Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a strange thing to look upon the night sky and behold a moon so similar, yet still different from the one he had drawn his power from for millennia. Stranger yet to feel the presence of foreign gods who laid claim to a domain he alone held sole dominion over for his entire existence. This world was so alive, with vibrant magics and more mortals living in this city than had ever lived in Anor Londo, even at its peak.

From what Gwyndolin had been able to learn since… since dying and inexplicably waking up in a new world, the city of Miami was not even this land’s seat of power!

Truly, this strange realm I find mineself in emphasizes mine homeland’s decline.

Gwyndolin did his best to avoid such thoughts—he’d had a good day so far and he didn’t wish to ruin it by thinking about his homeland. He didn’t need to think about the always encroaching darkness, his poisoning, the sister he would never again see, or his… his death.

Gwyndolin could feel his breath growing erratic and an edge of panic creeping up on his mind, so he desperately looked to his surrounding for a distraction.

He was in what these mortals referred to as a park—it was late at night, so there were few people within his line of vision. The ones he could see ignored him thanks to the illusion he had cast to hide his repulsive, frail appearance. The illusions were minor, hiding only his monstrous features and changing his attire to something the mortals might expect.

Such illusions did cause problems, however. A woman who was running for no reason Gwyndolin could discern nearly tread upon his legs as she ran past the bench he was sitting in.

Gwyndolin returned to his musings as he felt the panic begin to recede and his breath level out, after all, he had much to think about.

He had been in this world for a week and he felt like he had a preliminary understanding of its structure. Its technology felt strange and fantastical to him, but Gwyndolin had lived for a very long time and had seen many strange and fantastical things in his life. He had long since learned the skills necessary to take care of himself and was committed to adapting to his circumstances as quickly as possible.

‘Tis a simple sentiment, yet one difficult to put into practice.

For the first time in his life, Gwyndolin needed to perform labor in order to receive currency, which was a…vexing situation to find himself in. Even in his diminished state, he did not necessarily require food or shelter in order to survive, yet he still desired such comforts.

Gwyndolin had intended to make use of his above human strength in order to find work at the docks but was swiftly sent away as the supervisor took in his appearance. He could have changed his illusionary appearance to something more masculine, but the pitiful remnants of his pride prevented him from doing so.

Now Gwyndolin was stuck wondering what work he could find with a lifetime of skills that did not match this strange world.

He was momentarily distracted as his legs once again risked being stepped on by a mortal, this time a child.

Gwyndolin found it strange that there was an unaccompanied child in the park at such a late time, but he decided not to question it. He had observed that the local mortals had a tendency to restrain themselves from interfering in the matters of others, and he was intent on adapting to their culture.

Gwyndolin put the child out of his mind and returned to his thoughts.

If he could not acquire resources by taking advantage of his superior strength, then perhaps he could take advantage of his magic. As far as he could tell, it would not be as profitable as working at the docks, but he could deliver packages swiftly through teleportation.

Hmm… but how shall I respond if they request identification? Mayhaps I could—

“Excuse me!”

Gwyndolin was startled out of his thoughts by the young voice of the child he had previously ignored. He was embarrassed to notice that the child had gotten close enough to tug on his sleeves with a frustrated look on his face.

Had the child been calling out to him? He must have truly been lost in thought.

The language of this land was close enough to his own, but he had been told his manner of speech was “old” and he had yet to adjust. Hopefully, the mortal would not ridicule him for his deficiencies.

“Yes, child? Dost thou require mine aid?”

The child released Gwyndolin’s sleeve and scrunched up his face before speaking.

“Are you a superhero? You are, right?”

Gwyndolin raised both of his eyebrows in surprise—though his illusion kept a placid expression, he had heard of superheroes. That was the title these mortals had given to the god they referred to as Superman, a being who held power that far eclipsed Gwyndolin’s father even in his prime. Why would this child compare such a being to a deity as feeble and inadequate as himself?

“Why dost thou believe me to be a superhero?” Gwyndolin asked, his curiosity towards this strange child increasing.

“Because you’ve got snake legs, which means you have superpowers!” said the boy excitedly. “And you’re not doing bad things, which means you’re not a villain, so you’ve got to be a hero!”

“Thou can see mine true form? How?”

Gwyndolin checked his illusion to verify that it had not fallen while he was distracted, only to find it fully functional.

“I dunno,” the boy admitted, shrugging sheepishly. “Grandpa says our family’s magic. Maybe that’s why?”

One of Gwyndolin’s serpents flicked a forked tongue into the air and he could indeed recognize the distinct taste of magic emanating from the boy. He had not noticed any sorcerers amongst the mortals since his arrival, so he had made the mistake of crafting a lesser illusion that would not fool those who possessed magic.

The consequence of arrogance, Gwyndolin thought with self-recrimination as he strengthened his illusion.

“Hey! Where’d your feet go?” the boy exclaimed. Gwyndolin was forced to swiftly move his legs away as the child tried to grasp the serpents he could no longer see.

As the child ran back and forth in front of him, Gwyndolin took the opportunity to study the mortal who had seen his true form. The child seemed to be around 10 years of age and had blond hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. Gwyndolin did not know much about children, but the boy seemed to be healthy and well fed—not surprising given this land's prosperity.

“What is thine name, child? Where art thine guardians?”

The child refocused his attention on Gwnydolin, abandoning his efforts to grab the serpent which had just tapped him on the nose.

“My name’s David. Grandpa’s at home, doing magic stuff. It’s alright though, he gave me a protective talisman.” The boy pointed to a pendant hanging around his neck. “See? Grandpa says I can go wherever I want as long as I’m wearing it.”

As far as Gwyndolin could tell, the pendant itself was mundane, but the fragmented ruby it contained held considerable magic. Gwyndolin was glad to see that the child had such a responsible guardian—Gwyn would not have given him such a powerful talisman.

“Very well. I ask thee again, Dost thou require mine aid, David?”

“Oh yeah! You’ve got to help Ms. Superhero, the gangs are causing trouble near the docks!”

“Despite mine appearance, I am male,” Gwyndolin said with practiced patience. “What is a gang?”

David looked embarrassed by his correction and then surprised at his question. “I dunno, they’re like, groups of criminals. Shouldn’t you know that?”

Gwyndolin pushed away the shame his own ignorance evoked in him. “Who art these lawbreakers, and what felonies dost they commit?”

At this, David became eager to show off his knowledge. “It’s the Medusa Syndicate. They’re moving in on the Escabedo Cartel’s territory and they’re shooting up the place!”

“Wouldst it not be best to permit these criminals to fight one another?” Gwyndolin asked, confused. “Art the local guardsmen incapable of punishing such transgressions?”

“Nah, the cops are all paid off,” said David dismissively. “Aren’t you a superhero? You’re supposed to stop people from dying, even the bad guys. Besides, don’t you want to fight the Medusa?”

Gwyndolin found it a strange practice to care for the well-being of criminals, but he was hesitant to argue against it when these mortals had built a society more prosperous than his own.

“Why the Medusa in particular?”

“Well… you’ve got snake legs,” said David, suddenly unsure of himself. “I mean, you’re a superhero with snake legs and they’re villains with a snake theme. That means they’re your nemesis.”

Gwyndolin was starting to believe adapting to these people's culture would be more difficult than he had imagined, their practices seemed alien to him.

Now that he had received all of the pertinent information he could from the child, Gwyndolin decided to put some thought into his actual request.

Gwyndolin didn’t believe he was worthy of bearing the same title as the god called Superman, but no matter his deficiencies, he was still a deity in his own right. There were many powerful beings in this world, but a group of mortal criminals was well within his ability to handle.

Yet in truth… ‘Tis not the true reason I consider this folly, thought Gwyndolin, looking into David’s hopeful eyes. It had been some time since he had last enjoyed the company of someone so comfortable in his presence. Even the rare individuals who did not disdain him for his grotesque appearance usually either revered him or were intimidated by his status.

This child, who had seen his true form and was only interested in him due to an earnest faith in these ‘superheroes’—Gwyndolin did not think he could bear to disappoint the hope in those eyes.

Gwyndolin released a sigh and gathered his resolve—at this point, his choice was already made and there was no point in dithering while mortals were being harmed.

“Very well, David. Thou shall have mine assistance.” Hopefully, he would not regret it.

“Awesome! C’mon, I’ll lead you there.” The boy turned around, prepared to run to the docks before he let out a yelp as one of Gwyndolin’s serpents lifted him from the ground.

“Hey! What’re you doing?” said David, pouting. “You’re not going to tell me to go home, are you? I’ll be fine! I’ve got Grandpa’s talisman.”

That was in fact not the reason Gwyndolin had stopped the boy, his pendant would indeed offer sufficient protection, so he didn’t see any problem with allowing the boy to see combat.

“Thou misunderstand mine intentions, David. I am in possession of the ability to teleport. All I need is for thou to focus on the location of these lawbreakers.”

“Oh… sounds good,” David said sheepishly.

After a moment, Gwyndolin extracted the location from the child’s mind, took hold of his catalyst, and began channeling his magic.

Gwnydolin had one thought in his head as he felt the spell take hold, instantly transporting him across the city while he carried a mortal child aloft.

I hope I prove mineself worthy of being these mortal’s superhero. This city deserves a fate more kind than Anor Londo’s.

Chapter Text

Gwyndolin was grateful he’d had the foresight to increase his defenses with magic before teleporting into the battlefield. In spite of the fact that his presence was hidden from the mortals by his illusions, several projectiles had impacted his defensive magics. Without hesitation, Gwyndolin teleported elsewhere so he could plan a wiser engagement.

Gwyndolin reappeared on a nearby roof overlooking the battlefield with a squirming child still held in his grasp. He ignored David’s protests and turned his attention to the two opposing forces.

The lawbreakers were doing battle in a location reserved for the storage of their strange vehicles—he thinks he had heard it called a ‘parking lot’. Gwyndolin thought it a poor name, a place used to store metal vehicles should not be associated with the lovely park he enjoyed spending time in. Especially now that many of those metal vehicles were currently tipped over or on fire.

The two groups were on opposite sides of the parking lot and were attempting to slay their enemies with the projectile weapons these mortals used to launch small metal arrows.

Gwyndolin hummed consideringly as he evaluated these weapons. He hadn’t given them much mind when he had first learned about them, he’d assumed they would be ineffective against him without magical enhancements, but he may have been mistaken.

It was difficult to evaluate the strength of an attack through his magical defenses, but not impossible. Given the amount of magic each projectile had consumed from his defenses, it was possible that these weapons might actually bruise his skin!

Oh, to be harmed by a mundane weapon bereft of magic and wielded by a mortal warrior! Truly I am weak of body. Mine eldest brother would have mocked me ceaselessly if such a shameful thing were to transpire.

Thankfully, while Gwyndolin’s body was weak compared to other gods, his efforts in compensating with magic had born fruit.
The defensive spell he had derived from Magic Shield offered lesser protection when applied to his body rather than a shield, but would still prove sufficient against these weapons.

Gwyndolin watched as a criminal fired a projectile that exploded with the force of a pyromancer's Fire Orb upon impacting a vehicle one of the mortals was hiding behind.

I suppose caution would prove prudent until I acquire greater knowledge of mine foes’ capabilities.

Under most circumstances, Gwyndolin would simply form an illusion to draw the attention of his enemies and slowly kill them from afar, one by one. However, if he wished to assimilate into this world, he would need to follow the customs of its people—customs that compelled him to care for the well-being of criminals.

His usual methods would take too long—he could already see several civilians who required medical attention. Therefore, he decided he would make the rare decision to engage his enemies from a short distance. Their projectile-based weapons would be less effective if they needed to avoid injuring their comrades.

If this were a group of his father’s knights, Gwyndolin would never dare confront them closely, but these mortals could do little to harm him with their strength.

So determined, Gwyndolin tasted the air for magic—verifying that there were no nasty surprises hiding amongst his enemies—and drew his bow. There was a reason he had chosen to learn to use a bow instead of relying solely on his sorceries, it would allow him to attack while still devoting focus to his shields.

Gwyndolin decided to teleport amongst the Medusa Syndicate first.

At least, he assumed the mortals wearing uniforms depicting a yellow serpent on a black background belonged to the gang designated as his ‘nemesis’ by these people's strange culture.

Their warriors seemed more disciplined than the warriors of the Escabedo Cartel, so attacking them first would be wise.

I can see eight warriors donning serpentine heraldry. ‘Tis preferable that I subdue these villains as swiftly as possible.

With a plan of action formed, Gwyndolin stopped ignoring David’s complaints and prepared to enter combat.

“C’mon, what are you doing? Why are you just standing around? Why aren’t you fighting?” David continued his protests, even as Gwyndolin set him down gently on the roof.

Gwyndolin prepared to form an illusion on the opposite side of the parking lot even as he responded to David.

“When a warrior enters battle bereft of strategy, ‘tis a result of either foolishness or misfortune. Mine misfortune is already plentiful enough without seeking more. Witness as I subdue these evildoers, David.”

In the next moment, an illusion of Gwyndolin in his true form appeared on the battlefield and drew to its full height.

“Halt, evildoers!” said Gwyndolin’s illusion, projecting its voice across the parking lot and causing all of the gunmen to cease fighting. “I have proclaimed mineself as a superhero of this city. Thou would be wise to lay down thine weapons and avoid mine wrath.”

For reasons Gwyndolin could not discern, the criminals seemed momentarily bewildered, but they quickly recovered from their confusion.

The first to react was one of the Medusa warriors he had tentatively designated as their leader.

“It’s a fuckin’ Cape! Shoot the bitch!”

Gwyndolin was surprised that all of the warriors forgot their previous animosity and directed their attacks toward his illusion, superheroes must truly be feared by criminals. Though he was unsure why they were talking about capes—his father had never allowed him to wear one.

The moment his enemies attacked his illusion, Gwyndolin teleported amongst the Medusa Syndicate and backhanded the warrior who had insulted him—shattering his jaw.

Three of his serpents flew towards the throats of mortals who were beginning to turn their weapons towards him as he drew his bow and took aim towards a fourth.

Two of his snakes managed to inject their paralytic venom into the necks of the nearby warriors. The third was quick enough to dodge but failed to do so a second time after Gwyndolin threw him onto the ground with a fourth serpent.

His arrow flew true, its magic allowing it to shatter the mortal’s weapon and embed itself into his palm, pinning him to a metal vehicle. Gwyndolin ignored the mortal’s screams as he simultaneously shot two arrows into the criminal’s heels.

Five enemies vanquished. Three remain.

The remaining Medusa warriors seemed rightfully intimidated by his power, but that didn’t stop them from attacking him. Two of them attacked Gwyndolin uselessly with their projectile weapons even as small pieces of metal flattened against his shield, while the third threw something at him by hand.

Gwyndolin was not certain what the small metal ball was, but if his enemies wanted it near him, then Gwyndolin wanted it away. In a single movement, Gwyndolin fired an arrow—ruining both the weapon and hand of another criminal—and wrapped a serpent around a random piece of scrap before throwing it into the incoming item.

The thing bounced away to an unoccupied part of the battlefield and released an explosion less impressive than the exploding projectile he had seen earlier. Gwyndolin was a bit annoyed at the number of unknown weapons he was being forced to confront—it would be much easier to assess risks if these mortals would just use swords!

From there, it was a simple affair to disable the remaining Medusa warriors with his arrows, It seems their weapons were incapable of piercing his shield or significantly eroding his focus, so he simply stood still and dispatched them with his arrows.

Gwyndolin turned his attention to the other group of warriors on the battlefield—he could see many of the Escabedo warriors had been killed; only three of them remained.

They had been attacking him as well, but they stopped and flinched when Gwyndolin turned his gaze towards them.

“Wilt thou show greater wisdom than thine enemies and surrender?”

For a moment, two of the criminals looked unsurely between one another, until the third lifted the weapon that fired explosive projectiles and pointed it at Gwyndolin.

“Eat shit, puta!”

Gwyndolin was fairly confident the weapon would not be able to do him any great harm, but it was in his nature to be cautious.

With a reaction speed beyond what a normal human could reproduce, Gwyndolin placed a hand under a nearby vehicle and flipped it into the weapon’s line of fire.

Shrapnel splashed across Gwyndolin’s shields as the vehicle was destroyed in a fiery explosion and fell down in front of him. He peaked his serpents around the debris so he could regain sight of his enemies.

After witnessing his feat of supernatural strength, two of the mortals seemed terrified ready to flee while the third was attempting to replenish his weapon.

Gwyndolin could possibly teleport to their location and subdue them, but his teleportation required a few seconds to prepare. Within that time the explosive weapon may be ready for use, so he decided on another course of action.

Summoning his catalyst, Gwyndolin prepared to cast a spell of his personal creation—one which could ignore obstacles to strike its target.

After a moment, the spell was ready.

As the enemy warrior finished readying the explosive weapon and pointed it toward Gwyndolin, he released the spell.

Emitted from the end of Gwyndolin’s catalyst was a bright blue beam of light that ignored that ruined vehicle in front of him like a ghost moving through walls. Gwyndolin’s Soul Sphere obliterated the explosive weapon, turning it into a pile of useless scrap.

The Escabedo warrior spent several staring at his hands as if he couldn’t believe what just happened when Gwyndolin's second spell was completed.

His two allies who had foolishly stood by his side found themselves grasping at their necks as serpents plunged fangs into their throats.

Gwyndolin used his right hand to grab the last remaining warrior by the neck and lift him off the ground, careful not to break the mortal's fragile bones.

He made certain the criminal would be able to get a good look at his paralyzed comrades as he ascended to his full height. Intimidation was not something Gwyndolin had often required, but he understood the importance of a reputation.

“Thine decisions were poorly made,” Gwyndolin said, forcing the mortal to look into the sun-shaped crown covering his eyes. His serpents began entwining the mortal and he could smell the distinct smell of urine as the criminal flailed uselessly against his grasp. “Tell thine allies of mine proclamation. I declare mineself a superhero of this city, and thine transgressions shalt not go unpunished.”

With his message delivered, Gwyndolin injected him with his venom and dropped him onto the ground. He had been tempted to deal blows to strangle him until he was unconscious, but he didn’t want to harm the mortal’s memory.

Now that all of his enemies had been dispatched and the quiet of the battlefield was interrupted only by pained moans, Gwyndolin could hear the sound of David cheering loudly from the roof.

He didn’t rejoin the child immediately, instead, he decided to offer his aid to the injured mortal civilians.

Unfortunately, he did not have great talent in Miracles due to his general lack of faith. The closest thing he had to faith was his trust in his father’s plan, but that had always been tainted by what he could now admit was the shadow of resentment he felt towards his family.

Even that lackluster faith had grown weaker and weaker as the Age of Fire gradually became more difficult to sustain.

Many had managed to cast Miracles through the faith they held in themselves, but Gwyndolin had precious little of that recently.

A few of the civilians had perished, killed by stray projectiles or due to a loss of blood, but many more still lived. Predictably, they seemed scared of his true form, but many of them relaxed when he announced himself as a superhero and offered assistance.

Truly, the people of this seemed to have great faith in their superheroes, it was… strange to receive such trust so easily.

Gwyndolin did what he could, lifting debris and wrapping wounds with the aid of some kind bystanders. They informed him the authorities would soon arrive moments after he heard a strange sound in the distance and that it would be for the best if left before they arrived.

If David was correct that the city’s guardsmen had been suborned by criminal elements, then he agreed that it would be for the best if he did not meet them. At least, not until he acquired a better understanding of the situation.

As he said his goodbyes and began preparing to teleport to the roof from which David was continuing to make gestures at him, one of the civilians who had been assisting him asked a question.

“Wait, Ma’am. What should we call you?”

This question caused Gwyndolin to feel an unexpected amount of hesitance. What should the mortals call him? His first instinct was to announce his usual title of The Darksun, but that no longer fell right.

He had failed his sister, his city, and his covenant.

Did still deserve such a title? Did he even want it?

Gwyndolin did not know the answer to these questions, and as the silence grew he panicked and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Despite mine appearance, I am male.”

The moment Gwyndolin was done speaking, he teleported away.

Chapter Text

Gwyndolin huffed and sprawled himself over a couch he had relocated to an abandoned warehouse, glad that nobody was present to witness his unrefined behavior. David had found this building while wandering aimlessly around the city, as seemed to be his habit, and was glad to assist Gwyndolin in occupying it. According to David, his grandfather was unlikely to notice his couch had disappeared, or care even if he did.

Gwyndolin was not quite sure what to do with his idle time. After teleporting away with David, he had waited patiently as the child had reenacted his fight—with inaccurate sound effects—until the boy had grown tired and stated his intention to return home.

Before leaving, the child had been kind enough to lead him to a building he could use for shelter. He then expressed his intention to aid Gwyndolin with “superhero stuff”, to his relief and shame.

He had thought that his plan to acquire currency through teleportation-assisted deliveries was a good plan, but apparently not. 

What kind of world required mere couriers to present identification?

Gwyndolin was ashamed to admit it, but he needed help if he wished to successfully integrate into this world. Doing so alone would require him to either invest significant time and effort or immoral usages of his magic he did not wish to resort to.

David should be arriving soon after finishing his daily attendance at “school”, a location where education was offered freely to children across the land. Truly, this world continued to surprise him with its opulence. 

Gwyndolin had been concerned that David’s grandfather would notice the child’s absence, but according to David, he already spent little time at home, and his guardian scarcely noticed. This made sense to Gwyndolin. In his experience, adult men rarely concerned themselves with the affairs of children as long as they remained unbothered.

His eldest brother, Gwynhael, had ceaselessly mocked him for his “womanly nature” when he discovered Gwyndolin’s sponsorship of the city orphanage. He had always disagreed with father’s decision to raise Gwyndolin as a woman; he had disagreed with father about a great many things.

Gwyndolin was distracted from his spiraling thoughts when he felt a presence at the edge of his senses approaching the abandoned building. Gwyndolin relaxed as he tasted the distinct flavor of David’s magic seconds before the boy came running into the building as fast as his tiny mortal feet could take him.

“Hey, Mr. Superhero. Look, look, they’re talking about you on the news,” said David the moment he entered the building. He was holding up and presenting one of the small devices Gwyndolin had seen many of the mortals entranced by. 

Gwyndolin blinked in surprise as the device displayed two mortals speaking to him from behind a screen.

“Greetings, who art thou?” Gwyndolin asked the mortals politely. 

This tool must be a magical device that allowed for mortals to communicate over long distances. Gwyndolin assumed that David must have received it from his grandfather, but who were these people the child wished for him to meet?

“No! What are you doing?” David asked, baffled. “I thought aliens were supposed to have better technology than us.”

Gwyndolin conjured an illusion to hide his flushed embarrassment, a habit he had formed as a child after failing to learn how to hide his expression.

“Thou hast mine apologizes, David. I fail to understand thine object’s purpose.”

“It’s called a phone,” David explained with great tolerance. “These people can’t hear you. It’s a recording. They reported the news somewhere else this morning and now we can watch it on my phone.” 

Gwyndolin was not certain he perfectly understood, but he was unwilling to ask for further clarification. 

He gathered from context that these people were responsible for announcing recent tidings to the city’s citizenry, and they were displayed by the device… somehow. With no further insight presenting itself, Gwyndolin indicated to David his readiness to watch whatever it was he wanted to show him.

After a moment of fiddling, the device began to make noise and display a symbol that read as MiamiNews before resolving into two professional looking mortals.

“Good morning Miami. Today is September 8th, 2003 and you’re watching the Miami News. I’m Harold Moffet,” said the male middle-aged mortal.

“And I’m Margaret Carle,” said the younger female mortal.

“Today, we start with our leading story. Does Miami City have its very own superhero?” said Harold, “Reports are coming in of a snake-themed vigilante interrupting a battle between local gangs down by the docks.”

“According to witnesses, fighting began late last night between the Miami branch of the Escabado Cartel and the Medusa Syndicate in a busy parking lot near the docks,” said Margaret, continuing where her partner left off. “Police failed to respond to the violence for nearly twenty minutes before the suspected vigilante intervened.”

“No video evidence of the supposed vigilante has been found, but they are described by one witness as a ‘tall bow-wielding, snake-legged individual of indeterminate gender,’” said Harold, his tone colored by only slight disbelief. 

Gwyndolin idly wondered why the two people were taking turns speaking.

“Miami Police Chief Pablo Perez strongly denounced vigilantism this morning, citing the increased risk of supervillains in cities who have superpowered protectors.”

“These so-called ‘superheroes’ have reemerged in the public consciousness recently after the debut of Metropolis’ Superman and Wonder Woman’s announced intent to end her retirement.” As the female mortal took her turn speaking, the device began to display Superman. 

The god seemed to be flying through the air and battling some kind of giant wooden creature, striking it with great strength and burning it by channeling magic through his eyes. 

Gwyndolin was impressed by the sight and, for a moment, he contemplated the feasibility of casting sorceries with his eyes. He didn’t feel comfortable removing his mask, but his serpents had plenty of eyes to spare.

“With approval of the Miami police at an all-time low and a recent surge in support of superpowered vigilantes after last month’s invasion, many Miami locals have expressed their support for the vigilante online.”

“That’s right, Margaret. Debate is fierce on what name to call our prospective protector, but the current leading favorite is ‘Slither.’”

Gwyndolin was suddenly filled with great regret over his decision to leave the battlefield without sharing a title. He had been called many things over the years—not all of which were intended to be flattering—but at least they were appropriately grand for one of his status. Gwyndolin glared at the two mortals; they must be intentionally mocking him.

“All of Miami is waiting with bated breath for the next appearance of Slither and you’ll hear about it first here on Miami News. In other news, a Florida chef employed by the local restaurant, ‘Gregs Gator Shack’ was arrested after breaking into Arkham Asylum in an attempt to kidnap Killer Croc. More on this after the break.”

Gwyndolin was still glaring at the device when David began gesticulating with enthusiasm.

“Did you hear that? You’ve got a superhero name now, Slither! It’s so cool.” David was looking up at Gwyndolin with nothing but earnest awe in his expression. No matter how hard he looked, Gwyndolin could see sense do deception from David; he truly believed ‘Slither’ was a worthy name. 

For the second time in a single hour, Gwyndolin conjured an illusion to hide his flushed cheeks.

Mayhap mine perception is inaccurate , Gwyndolin pondered. 

Slither may not be as noble a sobriquet as he was accustomed, but the gods of this world seemed to avoid grand names for themselves. Whether it be Superman, Wonder Woman, or Batman, all of these were rather simple names—perhaps he should merely be glad he was not being referred to as Snake Man.

Could it be that mortals were simply incompetent when choosing names?

Aside from that, there were also the continuous efforts he had rebuffed to magically search for his location. It was likely the work of the other lunar gods, searching for the unknown entity that had laid claim to their domain. 

There was little chance they would succeed in finding him through magic; he had become very good at hiding. However, they may manage to find him through mundane means if Gwyndolin were to take on a title that referred to his domain.

Slither would have to do, but he didn’t wish for David to call him that in private.

“Thou may refer to me by mine true name, David.”

“But I don’t know it?” The child said, looking at him with confusion.

Gwyndolin widened his eyes in surprise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had needed to introduce himself to someone.

“Mine name is Gwyndolin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, David.”

David blinked at him blankly. “That’s a girl’s name.”

“Thine deductive prowess is stirring,” Gwyndolin said wryly. 

He didn’t feel any shame about his name, though he wished it had caused him less political grief. He had been compelled to start referring to himself in epitaphs at some point. Everyone in Anor Londo had known he was raised as a female, but the ‘Nameless Moon’ had an easier time garnering respect than ‘Gwyndolin.’

After a few more moments where David stared off into space with a confused expression, he seemingly decided to move past the matter with a shrug.

“Well, nice to meet you, Gwyndolin. I’m David Sargent. Do you have a last name?”

“Mine family never saw the need for such.” 

The name Gwyn and its derivatives had been exclusively reserved for his family

“Oh, okay,” said David, once again confused. “Hey wait a minute! You shouldn’t go telling strangers your secret identity. What if I were a bad guy?”

This time it was Gwyndolin’s turn to be befuddled. He could understand why he would wish to hide his identity—given the forces searching for him—but David didn’t know that.

“Why dost thou believe I should hide mine identity?”

“All heroes have a secret identity because they’re hiding from the Illuminate, duh,” said David. Gwyndolin could tell the child was glad for the opportunity to share his knowledge. “I read about it on the internet. If you have superpowers and the government knows who you are, the Illuminate will send the CIA to kidnap you!”

Gwyndolin had plenty of experience with secret conspiracies and was not particularly concerned about a mysterious organization that had been discovered by a child. Though they did have a surprisingly good name.

“Very well, David. I shall protect mine identity studiously.”

David nodded his approval before excitedly blurting out a question.

“When are you going to go superheroing again? I want to help!”

Gwyndolin looked down at the tiny mortal who was attempting to ingratiate himself with a pleading expression. His efforts would not be effective; his experience with Yorshka had rendered him sufficiently resistant to such tactics.

“I apologize. Such is not mine intent. I must first prioritize acquiring currency and then legal documents.” Gwyndolin did not wish to stay in an abandoned building forever. It was beneath him.

“But if you go superheroing, you can take money from criminals!”

Gwyndolin paused. That was not something he had previously considered. A prideful part of him chafed at stealing, even from criminals, but the practical part of him approved.

“‘Tis a reasonable plan, David. Where dost these criminals store their wealth?” Gwyndolin was excited to start. He had already grown tired of being a pauper.

“How should I know? I’m ten,” asked David. The way he was looking at Gwyndolin told him that this should be obvious.

“Thou seemed well enough informed on several matters I would not consider common knowledge.”

David shook his head emphatically, “That’s just common sense stuff. Or stuff I learned on the internet. Or stuff I found out while walking around. You can’t figure out where the gangs keep their money on the internet.”

“What is the internet?” Gwyndolin asked curiously. It seemed like a useful source of information, which was something he needed desperately.

Nearly an hour later, Gwyndolin was feeling a sense of awe he had not felt since the first time he had seen a living dragon. He had enjoyed the pictures of harmless animals and the ‘videos’ explaining the Illuminate conspiracy were informative, but the ‘website’ referred to as ‘Wikipedia’ was, in his opinion, the greatest thing mortals had ever invented.

“David, canst thou assist me in research with thine device? Thou wouldst gain mine favor.”

“Really? You want my help?” David asked excitedly. “Alright. But I want to help you with superhero stuff.”

Gwyndolin was confused. Had he not already requested the child’s assistance? He may as well agree.

“Very well, David. I agree to thine conditions.”

“Awesome!” said David, grinning widely. “Watch out, Miami bad guys! Slither and Chirp are coming for you.”

“Chirp?” Gwyndolin asked in confusion.

“Yeah. My favorite hero is Robin. I want to be just like him, so I picked a bird name. You’re like Batman, except cooler because I know you.”

Gwyndolin couldn’t follow David’s train of thought and had no idea what the child was talking about. But he was not overly concerned about what the boy called himself.

All of his concern was currently reserved for the knowledge he could access through the internet. 

If the mortals had seen fit to put everything he needed to know in one easy-to-access location, then he would gladly accept their generosity. And when he was done, Gwyndolin would create a comprehensive plan to attack the local criminals so he could… repurpose their resources to more productive use.

Chapter Text

Gwyndolin stared at his prey with all the inexorable patience he had developed over his very long life. The bar across the street was one that found itself frequented by members of the Medusa Syndicate, and Gwyndolin was taking note of who exited and entered the building.

He had managed to come across this particular bar as a result of interrupting another battle. It was an old and simple tactic to allow your enemy to escape and follow them to their stronghold, but it was also an effective one. Gwyndolin had followed the criminal to his home and then later to this location.

He might have excused the building as a mundane location for the criminal to drink alcohol after an arduous day—if not for the magical wards around the building.

Gwyndolin could certainly destroy the wards, but not without notifying the mage who created them. He could sneak past them, but when he tried, a guard had confronted him and his mastery of the local dialect was still insufficient to avoid drawing attention to himself. He could attempt to use the spell Hidden Body to eavesdrop unseen, but the building was active enough that he risked colliding with someone and being discovered.

Therefore, he was stuck patiently waiting outside the building, memorizing faces and hoping the mage responsible for the wards would visit. Gwyndolin had memorized the taste of his magic and would recognize him immediately.

Gwyndolin had spent the past two weeks learning everything he could about this world with the assistance of David after school hours. The rest of his time had been spent secretly stalking criminals in an attempt to find the locations where they kept their money and gather information on his enemies. 

Researching the Escabedo Cartel had been a surprisingly simple endeavor, due largely in part to its nature as a prominent criminal organization. 

The Escabedo Cartel was the most powerful drug cartel in Colombia—rivaled only in their country by the Medellin Cartel—and was feared across Latin America. Gwyndolin had been able to learn much about their history thanks to a documentary filmed by a reporter who was later assassinated.

He was even able to gain a general understanding of their interests in Miami.

The Cartel had succeeded in suborning a large portion of their home country’s government and had entrenched themselves deeply in Colombia’s capital city. Any attempts to dislodge them from Bogotá were rendered ineffective by one of the Cartel’s high-ranking members, a geokinetic metahuman powerful enough to threaten the city.

When Gwyndolin had learned what a metahuman was, he could scarcely believe that a mortal could simply be born with such power. Then he had learned that Superman did not make any claim to godhood, and he decided to stop expecting this world to make sense.

With control over most of their country, the Cartel had decided to expand north, eventually reaching Mexico. 

The end result was that after much fighting, they were pushed back by both the native Cartels and Mexico’s premier superhero team, Justicia. The Escabedo Cartel had many skilled assassins and metahumans, but nothing they had could handle Mexico’s most powerful hero, El Dorado.

The Cartel’s subsequent actions were not fully known to the public, but most internet analysts believe they formed a partnership with criminals in Santa Prisca. The Escabedo Cartel provided the drugs and the violence while the Santa Priscans provided smuggling routes into Miami. 

Admittedly, this was just internet speculation, but Gwyndolin had been able to find circumstantial evidence that supported the theory.

The lack of a significant superhero team in the United States since the disbanding of the Justice Society was likely a blessing from the Cartel's perspective. Most American superheroes were highly independent, meaning they rarely cooperated with their government, nor did they often venture outside their cities.

The Cartel must be cursing the bad luck after Gwyndolin appeared in the city. 

Their low-ranking warriors lacked discipline and skill, compensating in acts of gratuitous violence that failed to intimidate Gwyndolin. He had already stalked many of their members to numerous safehouses and memorized their locations.

In contrast, finding any information on the Medusa Syndicate was proving to be a significantly more difficult task. The organization was both paranoid and competent, which frustrated any attempt Gwyndolin made in his research. 

The only thing he had been able to learn was that they utilized magic to a degree that aroused Gwyndolin’s suspicion. Admittedly, the fact that they used magic at all was already enough to arouse suspicion. 

Gwyndolin had been able to learn a lot from the internet, but information on magic had proven to be surprisingly sparse. The average person was aware that it existed, but there was no reliable information on how it was actually used. Anything found online was self-contradictory at best, and dangerous at worst.

Despite that failure, Gwyndolin was feeling rather proud of himself overall. His studies had borne fruit, and he felt much more confident in his ability to navigate this world. Admittedly, it helped that he had limited his efforts to matters pertaining to his ability to act as a superhero and that he didn’t need to sleep. 

He was now mostly competent in his ability to navigate the internet and use a phone… mostly. 

He had stumbled upon a few websites that had deeply shocked him. This resulted in Gwyndolin avoiding the internet for a few days until the lure of knowledge proved too powerful.

He also managed to gain a general understanding of the mortal’s projectile weapons, or ‘guns’ as they called them. An average gun would not be a threat to him, but these mortals had weapons that far exceeded the average gun.

That wasn’t even mentioning the weapons that used technology—alien or otherwise—far superior to what was generally available.

Truly, this world was a highly dangerous place.

Gwyndolin looked to the moon and noted that it was almost time for him to return to the warehouse. 

David had wished to join him in his investigations, but Gwyndolin knew better than to trust the boy would not immediately lose interest when forced to wait. His decision had been the right one.

After David had started to grow bored due to a lack of superhero fights, Gwyndolin placated the boy by telling him stories about his past. At least, the parts of it that were appropriate to be shared with a child.

He had made the mistake of telling one of his favorite stories about his time learning magic, and now the child wanted nothing more than to learn magic from Gwyndolin. When he had asked David why his grandfather was not teaching him, David had grown uncharacteristically withdrawn before answering. 

Apparently, his grandfather was unwilling to teach David magic due to a fatal magical accident that had occurred while training his previous apprentice. 

Gwyndolin felt sympathy for the man. Magic was dangerous and the risks towards its practitioners were always present.

He had promised to speak with the boy about the matter tonight, and it was about time to have that conversation. 

Gwyndolin took one last look at the bar before he began casting his teleportation spell. The next time he returned here, he would be arriving with violent intent.

A moment later and he reappeared in the abandoned building David had started referring to as his superhero base. The child had wanted to call it his Snake Nest, but after the mortals had started calling him Slither, Gwyndolin had exhausted his tolerance for silly names. 

The building was gradually becoming more comfortable after Gwyndolin had started confiscating furniture from the homes of criminals.

Gwyndolin was only slightly surprised to see that David was already waiting for him when he arrived. The boy was nothing if not eager.

“You’re back!” The boy quickly sat up from the couch where he had been playing with his phone. “Did you find that evil wizard you were looking for?”

“I did not,” said Gwyndolin. “Said sorcerer dost not frequent the bar, mayhap.”

It was unlikely he would learn more than he already had by watching the bar, so he would cut his losses. Hopefully, when he attacked, he would be able to find someone who knew the mage's identity. 

Gwyndolin could tell David was eager to ask again about magic training, so he decided to address the topic directly.

“I have arrived at a conclusion in regard to thine request to learn magic, David.”

“Really?” David was already making his expression as pitiful and pleading as possible.

Unfortunately for him, Gwyndolin had already made his decision.

“I have decided I shall not train thee—”

“What?!” David yelled in outrage.

“Cease thine interruptions, David,” Gwyndolin said firmly, in the same tone of voice he had once used to address Yorshka

David winced, then pouted. “Sorry…”

Gwyndolin hummed in acknowledgment before continuing. “I have decided I shall not train thee without thine guardian’s consent.”

“But what if he says no?” said David, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Then we shall evaluate his rationale and strive to allay his grievances. I shall not withdraw mine stipulation, David.”

The boy looked disappointed, but he just huffed and crossed his armed when he understood that Gwyndolin would not be changing his mind. “Okay. Fine.” 

There were a few different reasons Gwyndolin had insisted on meeting David’s grandfather before he agreed to teach him magic. 

The first reason was that it was the responsible thing to do. Magic was dangerous, and David’s guardian had a right to know what his grandson was doing and voice his objections if he had any. Obviously, those objections would need to be convincing enough to persuade Gwyndolin, but that went without saying.

The second reason was one born from a colder, more pragmatic side of his mind. Gwyndolin’s protective pendant suggested that his grandfather was either a fairly powerful sorcerer, or had connections to one. In either case, the man could either be a worthy ally, or a troublesome foe.

His research into all the things that could potentially threaten him in this world had convinced Gwyndolin of something important. Borrowing a mortal idiom, he was a big fish in a massive ocean. 

Therefore, it would be best to approach any potential threat with diplomacy when possible.

“We shall convene with thine grandfather the day after tomorrow. I have decided, tomorrow I shall attack mine enemies.”

“Finally! How can I help?”

Gwyndolin shook his head. “Thou shalt not participate in this battle. Mine presence in this city may compel the criminals to escalate. Their capabilities remain partially unknown.”

“But, I’m like your Robin! I should be helping!”

Gwyndolin spent the next several minutes patiently explaining to David why he could not participate. He was not happy, but he eventually seemed to understand that without training, there would be little he could do to assist. After Gwyndolin detailed to him some of the Escabedo Cartel’s atrocities, he grew green in the face and seemed more willing to wait for training.

The conversation with the boy’s grandfather would be an interesting one.

Gwyndolin sent David to do the work assigned to him by his educators while he sprawled himself across the couch and mentally reviewed his plans.

After gathering information on the two criminal organizations, Gwyndolin reached the conclusion that they both had the willingness and capacity to escalate. The Miami port was too valuable for the Escabedo to surrender easily, and the Medusa had shown commitment to their presence in the city, even if their interests were opaque.

When Gwyndolin begins causing serious problems for their organizations, they would send their best assassins, metahumans, alien technology, and mages to kill him. That being the case, there are some who would have chosen to slowly dismantle them and escalate as little as possible.

Gwyndolin, however, thought the best course of action would be to hit them hard and cause as much damage to their operations as possible before they could threaten him. That way, by the time their reinforcements arrive, they would be forced to spend their efforts rebuilding. It would also allow him to seize as many of their resources as possible before they found a way to adapt to his presence.

Tomorrow, Gwyndolin would be teleporting to every single one of the enemy strongholds he had found with the intention of taking what he could and destroying what he could not. 

It is likely that many of the criminals he would incapacitate would avoid prison, but the more that happened, the more outrage would be directed to the corrupt authorities.

Gwyndolin hummed and closed his eyes. He did not sleep, but he did meditate and prepared himself for the following day.

When he had first decided to become a superhero, his motivation had been an idle interest in punishing the wicked and pleasing a hopeful child. Then he had been motivated by his desire to take their resources for himself. But after researching these criminal organizations, Gwyndolin was motivated by a deep sense of… resentment.

This world was so blessed in comparison to the one in which he had been born. The people of this world did not have to concern themselves with an Age of Fire that grew progressively shorter with each iteration. They did not need to feel themselves be consumed by hopelessness as the world around them died and their efforts were proved futile.

These criminals were blessed to live in such a world, and they had the audacity to despoil it with their petty evils.

He noted David’s worried glance when his serpents started to hiss softly.

Gwyndolin had every intention of making certain that tomorrow would be a very bad day for the criminals of Miami.

Chapter Text

Gwyndolin withheld a sigh as David guided him on the proper usage of a portable communication device he referred to as a “Bluetooth.”

More evidence of the mortal deficiency in choosing proper names—it was neither blue nor shaped like a tooth.

David had seemed downcast about not having an opportunity to assist Gwyndolin in his attack, so they had settled on this compromise. He usually wouldn’t be so indulgent, but Gwyndolin was finding himself increasingly fond of the boy, and this seemed harmless enough.

After Gwyndolin verified that the Bluetooth was properly connected to the phone he had stolen from a criminal, David returned to the corner of the room he had dubbed his “Chirp Nest.”

The child sat down with a police scanner, his laptop, and the other phone Gwyndolin had stolen just for this occasion. The phone had previously belonged to a moderately high-ranking member of the Escabedo Cartel, and David would be using it to monitor their activity for the night.

It had taken some effort for Gwyndolin to convince the criminal to show him how to bypass the phone’s security, but he had managed to do so. He had then pumped the man full of paralytic venom and hid him away to make certain he couldn’t warn his allies.

Now David would be able to assist him by easily informing Gwyndolin when the authorities or the Escabedo Cartel became aware of his attack.

Gwyndolin had initially assumed that David wouldn’t be able to understand the primary language of the foreign organization. This apparently wasn’t an issue as a company referred to as Wayne Industries had developed some kind of technology that allowed for quick translation of written words.

He had been astounded by this world’s technology so many times that at this point hewas starting to grow numb.

Gwyndolin felt like all of this was unnecessary. He didn’t believe he had yet done enough damage to either the Escabedo or the Medusa to redirect resources capable of threatening him. That would change after tonight, but for now, Gwyndolin didn’t expect to come across anything that could slow him down, let alone stop him.

However, as unnecessary as all this was, it made David happy. That was reason enough to go along with it.

“Chirp here, 1, 2, 1, 2. Can you hear me, Slither? Over,” said David.

Gwyndolin looked at the boy, baffled. “Yes, David. I can hear thee. Thou art still very near.”

“No! Can you hear me through the Bluetooth?”

“I see,” said Gwyndolin, understanding the child’s meaning. “Yes, thine device functions properly.”

“Good. And can you call me Chirp while we’re doing this? Please?”

Gwyndolin huffed and looked at David with an indulgent expression. “Very well, Chirp. I thank thee for thine assistance.”

“No problem!” said David, smiling at him widely. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

“I see no reason for delay.”

“Okay, good luck, Slither!”

Gwyndolin withheld a wince at the name and merely nodded at the child before summoning his Catalyst. A moment later he appeared outside of the bar frequented by members of the Medusa Syndicate; he immediately cast an illusion over the building to hide his assault from onlookers.

With a flex of his magic, Gwyndolin very quickly tore apart the wards protecting the bar and cast Hidden Body on himself to disguise his approach.

He had chosen to attack the Medusa Syndicate first because, unlike the Escabedo Cartel, he only knew a single location associated with their organization.

His goal was to abduct the person who he believed to be the highest ranking member who frequented this bar and interrogate them for information on their sorcerer and organization.

Afterward, he would move on to attacking the Escabedo Cartel.

“Mine attack begins now, Chirp,” said Gwyndolin.

“Got it. I’ll let you know if the cops start heading your way.”

Only a single guard stood near the entrance to the bar. Gwyndolin didn’t even bother slowing down as he slammed the man against a wall and buried his serpents fang’s into the man’s flesh.

The door was locked and Gwyndolin did not wish to risk killing somebody on the other side by blowing it apart with his magic, so he’d simply use his natural strength.

A moment after forming his magical defenses, Gwyndolin punched his fist through the door, ripped it off its hinges, and carelessly threw it behind him into the parking lot.

Drawing his bow and placing away his Catalyst, he moved forward.

Entering the building, he was greeted by the sight of a room full of criminals staring at him with slack jaws.

“Thine reckoning arrives, evildoers. Surrender if thou wisheth to avoid harm to thy person”

The moment Gwyndolin finished speaking, everyone in the room instantly began reaching for their weapons.

Six serpents swiftly moved in different directions, sunk their fangs into six different men, lifted them off of their feet, and threw them across the room.

At the same time, an arrow buried itself into the knee of the barkeeper as he attempted to escape through the back door.

Gwyndolin moved deliberately into the center of the room as bullets bounced off his shield and his serpents flailed in a tornado of violence. There was no threat to him in this room, so Gwyndolin continued to steadily disable every person in the bar with arrows, fangs, and flying furniture.

He was nearly finished incapacitating all of the mortals when he spotted the high-ranking member he had been targetting. The man was leaping over the moaning body of his fallen ally as he tried to escape through the back.

It was a shame that he required lengthy preparations in order to bend the space of a building with his magic. A few minutes of chasing the mortal through an endless hall would have done well to loosen his tongue.

As it was, Gwyndolin simply teleported in front of the man, knocked him onto the ground with a slap across the face, and teleported away with the man.

The moment he found himself somewhere quieter, he was immediately confronted by David’s worried voice. “Slither! Are you okay?”

Gwyndolin felt something warm in his chest. He had met people before who had genuinely cared about his welfare, but such people were rare enough that Gwnydolin treasured each of them.

After casting an illusion to prevent the criminal from hearing anything, Gwyndolin spoke to David.

"I am well and mine work is complete, Chirp. Thou may contact the authorities."

Hopefully, many of the criminals would possess warrants for their capture.

Gwyndolin turned his attention to the mortal who was currently spitting teeth out of his bleeding mouth. He had transported them to the roof of one of the mortal's tall structures, a perfect place for privacy.

Seeing that his captive was not in a state to escape, Gwyndolin teleported back to the bar and quickly began collecting the phones of the criminals. He had learned that the devices may store information that would further his goals. Gwyndolin did not know of an expert capable of bypassing a phone's security and gathering said information, but he intended to find one soon.

Entwining the mortal in his coils, Gwyndolin hid the two of them away with magic and held him over the edge of the building.

"Thou shalt answer mine questions."

“You think I’m scared of you, Bitch? You hero types ain’t got the balls to kill. You don’t look like you’ve got balls at all!”

Gwyndolin said nothing. The only language people like this man understood was violence.

Slowly, so that he could more easily control his strength, Gwyndolin began to squeeze the man hard enough for the criminal to begin suffocating. He lifted himself up to his full height and pulled the man close enough for Gwyndolin to see his mask in the man’s eyes. It was only when the criminal’s eyes began to fill with terror that he loosened his grip and threw the man back onto the roof.

Saying nothing, Gwyndolin loomed over the man and surrounded him with hissing serpents as he gasped for breath.

“Fuckin’ fine, you crazy bitch,” said the criminal as soon as he gathered his breath.

“Share any knowledge thou possesseth regarding thine organization or the sorcerer responsible for thine bar’s magical protections.”

“Listen, I don’t know that muc—”

The man flinched as Gwnydolin’s serpents began to hiss louder.

“Wait! All I know is that we get our equipment out of somewhere in Europe. Most of the boys in Miami are just mercenaries, but the folks that call the shots over in Europe are some kinda cultists or some shit.”

Gwyndolin was not happy as he absorbed that information. It implied that he had no easy way to destroy the Medusa Syndicate from Miami and that they possessed significant resources outside of their magic.

The fact that they were a cult was also cause for concern; cults were always trouble.

“And thy sorcerer?”

“He’s some asian dude that reports directly to the boss. Real scary ass motherfucker. Goes by the name Maro Ito. He hasn’t been back in the city since he did his magic shit.”

Gwyndolin hummed in consideration. The information was not much, but it was enough for now.

Perhaps David’s grandfather, as a member of this world’s magical community, would recognize the name.

Gwyndolin spent the next few minutes interrogating the man before paralyzing him and returning him to the bar after getting all he could. He noted that the Miami police had still not arrived.

With the assault on the bar concluded, Gwyndolin decided to immediately teleport into the first Escabedo safehouse he intended to attack.

“What the fu—”

The undisciplined members of the Escabedo Cartel offered even less of a challenge than the warriors in the bar.

Surprised and outmatched, it was trivial for Gwyndolin to shatter bones and destroy everything in his path as he searched the house for valuables. Unfortunately for him, the only valuables in this base were drugs and weapons, things he had no interest in.

Finding nothing of interest, Gwyndolin destroyed all of the guns he could find and teleported the drugs away for later disposal. He didn’t trust the authorities to properly destroy such things, so he would need to burn it all later.

Gwyndolin directed David to contact the authorities and send them to the safehouse he had just cleared.

Unfortunately, destroying the building directly with his magic risked causing damage to the nearby structures that the people of this world would frown upon. The building would likely fall back into Cartel hands, but at least it was now useless as a safe house.

Knowing that he had limited time before the Cartel began moving their goods, Gwyndolin moved on to his next target.

His next target went much like the first, except this time the location had a few computers as well as drugs and weapons. Gwyndolin placed them in the same place he had stored the phones from the bar.

It wasn’t until Gwyndolin was assaulting his third target that he actually managed to find their money. He didn’t know much, but Gwyndolin managed to acquire several stacks of hundred-dollar bills that the Cartel had likely not yet laundered.

It then—when Gwyndolin was gleefully collecting criminal money in a room full of incapacitated men—that David contacted him.

“Hey, Slither. The bad guys noticed you. They sent a message to this dude to let him know that they’re setting up a trap. They’ve got something called Venom that they think can deal with you.”

“Understood,” said Gwyndolin, continuing to collect the money. “Where dost these evildoers intend mine ambush?”

“Over at the building they’ve got near Coral Gables.”

“Thou hast mine gratitude, Chirp.”

“No problem!”

After transferring the money back to his abandoned building, much to David’s excitement, Gwyndolin teleported outside the Escabedo building in Coral Gables. He had decided against teleporting directly inside the building like he had been doing previously.

He wasn’t particularly worried about whatever the Escabedo had planned, but Gwyndolin had been punished for his arrogance often enough to exercise caution regardless.

This caution was rewarded when Gwyndolin broke down the door to the building and was greeted by the sight of five of the largest mortals he had ever seen in this world. Strewn across the floor were vials containing a glowing green liquid Gwyndolin assumed was Venom.

“You’re fuckin dead, snake bitch! We’ve got something special from Santa Prisca to deal with freaks like you.”

The moment the Escabedo thug was done speaking, all five of the unnaturally large mortals charged Gwyndolin, cracking the concrete floor with their steps. Gwyndolin drew his bow and granted them his undivided attention, readying himself a fight with enemies of unknown strength.

Chapter Text

Channeling magic into his bow, Gwyndolin simultaneously released five arrows aimed at the legs of the musclebound criminals. He couldn’t help but be surprised as the mortals continued to charge him in complete disregard for their pain or injuries. 

If Gwyndolin were still in his old world he would simply bury arrows into their skulls, but such behavior was not acceptable in this world’s society. He could also lead them out onto the street and take advantage of his greater maneuverability, but doing so would risk the lives of civilians, which was contrary to superhero behavior.

Decision made, Gwyndolin put away his bow and summoned his Catalyst, he didn’t have many non-lethal sorceries, but he did have one.

The moment he began channeling his magic, Gwyndolin immediately sent a serpent to intercept each of the charging criminals. 

To his slight surprise, they slowed as they collided with his serpents and fangs buried into their flesh, but they still did not stop. Even his venom did not seem to have any appreciable effect on them. 

What manner of alchemy was able to so easily grant mortals such power?

Seeing that the warriors were almost upon him, Gwyndolin decided to switch tactics and disable two warriors with three serpents each and deal with the remainder himself.

As Gwyndolin finished casting, a blue orb exited the end of his Catalyst, aimed at the rearmost warrior. As his shockwave spell struck true, the criminal was knocked off his feet and sent flying across the room. 

Simultaneously, Gwyndolin cast a hidden weapon spell to hide his Catalyst from view.

Half of Gwyndolin’s serpents entwined the closest criminal, pulling him onto the ground and denied him the ability to move his limbs. Gwyndolin did the same to the next closest criminal and moved forward while pulling his two captives away from their allies' aid.

“You fucking freak!” 

One of the two remaining mortals was now close enough that they could attempt to strike him with crazed fury in his eyes.

Casting an illusion over himself, Gwyndolin directed his illusion to swing its Catalyst towards the mad warrior's head. The mortal attempted to grab the illusory Catalyst—likely in an attempt to rip it out of Gwyndolin’s hand—which meant he was surprised when the true strike struck low.

He felt little sympathy for the mortal as he fell onto the floor, screaming and crying while covering his ruined crotch. It seemed that their resistance to pain had limits.

Unfortunately, this gave the last warrior who had not been interrupted from his charge enough time to tackle Gwyndolin and then strike him with superhuman strength. 

The mortal’s fury faded for a moment as he froze and stared at Gwyndolin, dumbfounded that his strength had only been enough to knock back his enemy a few inches.

Gwyndolin was also surprised by the strength of his enemy. The strike had not been the strongest he had experienced, but the mortal possessed strength higher than should be naturally possible.

However, even if Gwyndolin was physically feeble in comparison to his family, in comparison to this mortal he still possessed superior strength.

Lunging forward, Gwyndolin grabbed the mortal by the wrist and squeezed until he could feel bones grinding. The warrior grit his teeth, but the pain wasn’t enough to stop him from repeatedly striking Gwyndolin to little effect.

He simply turned his head with the punches and swung his Catalyst towards the mortal’s chest; he could feel ribs break, but the mortal again ignored the pain.

Gwyndolin was just about to continue bludgeoning the mortal into submission when a chair shattered across his head, interrupting him.

He turned to find the source of the thrown furniture and saw the mortal he had sent flying with shockwave earlier charging him.

Gwyndolin was quickly growing annoyed. By now he had concluded that these mortals lacked the power to seriously threaten him, but he was finding it difficult to non-lethally incapacitate them. The two mortals he had trapped in his coils were still struggling and the ones who were free seemed intent to ignore their wounds.

As the charging warrior neared, Gwyndolin lifted the mortal in his grasp off of the ground and threw him into his approaching ally. He then cast a shockwave that sent the two of them flying further across the room.

Gwyndolin had refrained from using his more damaging spells out of fear of killing his enemies, but from what he had seen these enhanced mortals were durable enough to survive.

Channeling magic into his Catalyst, Gwyndolin fired multiple orbs of homing soul mass at the criminals. 

As the two warriors were beginning to stand, the spell struck true and an orb slammed into their guts, sending them both flying into a wall. 

Another orb collided with the arrows still buried into their legs, finally eliciting pained screams and the last struck them in the head, silencing them.

Gwyndolin was relieved to see that the enhanced mortals were still alive. If they had died he would have had more difficulties integrating into this world as a superhero and David would have probably been upset.

Gwyndolin turned his attention to the remaining mortals. 

The one who had been rolling around in his own blood on the floor had finally fainted from pain and the two in his coils were beginning to slow their struggles. He wasn’t quite certain if this was a result of the large amount of venom he had injected into them or if the alchemy they were relying on had begun to fade.

“Is the fight over? Is everything okay?”

Gwyndolin’s thoughts were interrupted by David’s concerned voice.

“Yes. I am well. Thou need not worry.”

After spending a few moments placating David and instructing him to direct the authorities to his location, Gwyndolin bent down to collect a vial of Venom. 

The Escabedo criminal had informed him that they acquired the substance from Santa Prisca. This was something he would need to investigate later.

“By the way, you’re starting to show up on social media. People saw you when you teleported to Coral Gables and started taking pictures. I think you’ll have lots of fans soon!”

These “fans” were not anything particularly new to Gwyndolin. Towards his death, his church had been fairly popular so he was well accustomed to having worshippers.

Gwyndolin quickly looted the safe house of all its money—a few more stacks of hundred-dollar bills—and teleported back to his base after confirming there was nothing of interest left.

David immediately set aside his laptop, ran up to Gwyndolin, and began searching him for injuries. The boy sighed in relief after finding none.

“You’re alright. That’s good!”

Gwyndolin couldn’t resist ruffling the child’s hair. Yorshka had always hated when he had done that, but David didn’t seem to mind.

“Mine enemies still lack the strength to threaten me. I thank thee for thine assistance. ‘Twas most helpful.”

David’s bright smile beamed up at him and Gwyndolin found himself returning it. 

Together the two of them sorted through the remaining loot and began counting the money they had stolen. In total, they had acquired around 100,000 dollars, Gwyndolin had expected more from such a large gang, but David informed him most of their wealth would be stored in a bank.

Banks were a strange concept. Most people he had known would not have trusted their wealth with a third party. 

This wealth would be reserved for helping Gwyndolin gain identification documents so he could begin participating in this society in greater ways. He would also need to reserve some money to purchase the services of an expert capable of gathering information for the devices he had stolen.

Gwyndolin did not have an easy way to find such a person or acquiring such documents and neither did David, so this would not be a simple task. Still, it may be a simple thing to accomplish if he had more allies.

“David, hast thou arranged for mine audience with thine grandfather?”

Gwyndolin’s question interrupted David while he was staring and giggling at the pile of money.

“Huh? Oh… uh, no. I forgot about that...”

“Please speak with thine guardian tonight, David. I shall speak with him tomorrow.”

David nodded his acknowledgment but didn’t seem particularly excited. He must believe that his grandfather would deny David permission to learn magic from Gwyndolin. His worries were not unwarranted, Gwyndolin found it unlikely the elder sorcerer would agree to let his ward be trained by somebody he did not know; trust would need to be built first.

However, Gwyndolin was patient, and even if David’s grandfather denied him it would be a good lesson for David. Magic was dangerous and patience could be the difference between life and death for a sorcerer.

Gwyndolin spent the next hour indulging David in his desire to hear about his fights before sending the child home.

Now alone, Gwyndolin closed his eyes and allowed himself to reflect on the day. 

He had been correct that neither organization had been prepared to challenge him; the Venom had been a surprise but was still not a threat to him. However, now that Gwyndolin had attacked every criminal dwelling that he had knowledge of, the criminals would begin leveraging greater resources to dispose of him.

The response from the Escabedo Cartel in particular was likely to be very significant now that they were aware Venom was not enough to handle him.

Gwyndolin resolved to act with a little more caution before the response of his enemies made itself apparent.

-----------------------------------

Sargon the Sorcerer walked into his home and relaxed as his home’s wards spilled over him—informing him that there were no intruders in his house. A long life of active participation in the magical community and occasional superheroics had fostered a healthy paranoia.

He could tell that David was not home, but that was nothing new so he was not particularly concerned. It helped that he could sense his grandson was unharmed through his connection to Ruby of Life. 

Slowly, Sargon the Sorcerer removed the turban which contained his own fragment of the Ruby and allowed his tension to fade.

There were too many matters he needed to handle nowadays, and he found himself being Sargon far more than he found himself being John Sargent. Superheroes of both the mundane and magical variety were not exactly known for having a healthy work-life balance.

This week his mentor had sent him to investigate a sentient street that enjoyed teleporting across the country and protecting people. It called itself Danny the Street and was quite insistent about its nonbinary gender. 

After confirming that Danny was not a malicious entity, John had immediately been called to assist with an attack in Georgia by the Cult of the Blood Red Moon. He hated dealing with vampires because that meant dealing with vampire hunters who were nearly as troublesome.

John wanted as little to do with the Order of Van Helsings as possible. If the bloodsuckers and the hunters were going to fight, the least they could do was avoid the mundane folk while doing so.

Maybe he should take a vacation. His mentor could have fun trying to convince that arrogant bastard Zatara to leave Shadowcrest to fight vampires and talk to sentient streets.

He was interrupted from his musings as the wards informed him of David’s arrival. 

Sometimes John wondered what his grandson was doing at night, but the few times he had checked on the child he had just been wandering the city aimlessly. That would be quite dangerous for a normal child, but David’s fraction of the Ruby of Life would be more than enough to protect him from most threats.

Surprisingly, he could sense that David was heading straight for his room. Usually, the child went straight to bed after coming home.

He watched as his grandson poked his head into the room and looked around before startling as he noticed John already looking at him.

“Hey, Grandpa. How are you?”

John could already tell the boy wanted something. Their relationship was not… familial enough for small talk. He hadn’t done a good job of being in his grandson’s life after his son’s death and his subsequent decision not to train David.

“I’m well, David. And you?”

“I’m okay,” said David, trailing off awkwardly. A moment later, he seemed to gather his courage and asked the question he had come to ask. “You’ll be home tomorrow, right? Can I bring a friend over?”

John found himself surprised. David had never had a friend he wished to bring home before. It made sense that John would need to be home to let him through the wards. He found himself a little excited for the next day. Perhaps this would be an opportunity for John to meet his grandson’s friends and be more involved in his life.

“That sounds lovely, David,” said John, smiling gently. “I don’t have anything important to do tomorrow, so your friend can come and visit.”

David smiled at him shyly. “Alright. Thanks, grandpa!”

After expressing his gratitude, David quickly scampered off to his room.

John could still feel himself smiling. It would be nice to have a simple and relaxing day without having to confront any supernatural entities.

As John made his way to the kitchen to make himself something to eat, he sensed something wrong and looked into his living room. 

John felt like something was missing, but he wasn’t able to figure out what it was.

After a few moments, he shrugged and made his way back to the kitchen. If he couldn’t figure it out then it probably wasn’t important.

Chapter Text

John woke up earlier than he usually did so he could make breakfast for his grandson. It was rare for him to have a day to himself, so he might as well make the most of it. David’s friend was currently on his way, so hopefully the kid would enjoy eggs—it was all John knew how to make.

He had just finished placing three sets of plates out on the dining table when David came down from his room, having just finished brushing his teeth.

“Mornin’ grandpa. You’re cooking?” said David, rubbing his eyes and holding back a yawn.

“Good morning, David. I’m making eggs. They should be ready by the time your friend arrives.”

David seemed a bit nervous at that. John didn’t know why, but he assumed his grandson was just worried he would do something to embarrass him in front of his friend.

The two of them made stilted small talk while John continued cooking the eggs until David abruptly excused himself after receiving a call from his friend. Apparently, the kid had almost arrived, and David wanted to escort him in so he could make introductions.

John smiled gently as his grandson left and split his attention between the eggs and the wards.

It was only a minute later that all thoughts of eggs were erased from his mind, and his full and undivided attention turned to the entity approaching his home alongside David.

The presence he felt next to his grandson was both extremely powerful and obviously not human. John really should have asked more about David’s friend. 

It was unlikely that such an entity was approaching him without ulterior motives. Fortunately, his grandson’s fragment of the Ruby was not reacting to any perceived danger, so John felt like he had some time to make preparations. 

Moving swiftly enough that he could feel his old bones protest, Sargon donned the turban which contained the Ruby of Life, and pulled an origami crane from his pocket. 

Channeling his magic into the Ruby, he animated the paper crane and gave it instructions to deliver a message to his mentor before teleporting it away. Given the nature of the Ruby of Life, this was actually quicker for him than a simple phone call.

He had asked for assistance only if combat was initiated. The presence he felt was powerful enough that he wasn’t confident in his ability to protect David from the crossfire. Besides, the entity was powerful enough that if violence was their intention, deceiving a child would have been wholly unnecessary.

They were almost at the wards now, so Sargon ran to the living room in order to prepare the potential battlefield as much as he could before they arrived.

Drawing from a lifetime of experience, Sargon animated every inanimate object he could see in his living room and enhanced them to their limits. Chairs grew teeth that could rend metal, clocks gained the ability to fire off their pieces like bullets, and the table was ready to jump up and tackle his enemies.

A small part of him confusedly noted that his couch was missing, but the rest of him ignored that and continued his preparations.

Sargon was frantically bestowing the ability to grow teeth and tendrils to the walls when he felt the presence of his mentor scrying the location. Given the way the presence paused their approach, they must have sensed it as well.

However, they didn’t pause for long. The next moment, Sargon felt a polite knock against his wards requesting entry.

Sargon let out a deep breath and tried to calm down. He was prepared as possible. If the entity tried to attack him or his grandson, they would be confronted by an experienced mage in his own territory and a powerful immortal wizard. 

It would have to be enough.

Sargon remained stoic as he permit the being inside his wards—as if they weren’t powerful enough to destroy them casually—and got his first look at his potential adversary. 

The being David was chatting excitedly with, or at, was a woman who had multiple snakes for legs, was garbed in intricate white robes, and was wearing a large golden crown that resembled a sun.

Sargon studied her features and tried to recall any magical beings who possessed such an appearance and failed. This only further increased both his tension and confusion; if a magical being changed its appearance, it was usually in an effort to blend in. That implied this was her preferred form, yet if that was the case, then he should recognize such distinct features.

As Sargon studied the being, she seemed to be studying his living room—likely making note of his defenses. He stood by and allowed her to do so, tense and ready to defend himself and David at a moment’s notice. 

Her first words, however, did a good job of shocking him out of his readiness.

“David, did thou fail to inform thy guardian of mine nature?”

Sargon blinked in surprise and turned his attention to his grandson, who was looking away sheepishly.

“Well… Maybe. I told him I wanted to bring by a friend.”

The being let out the long-suffering sigh of somebody accustomed to dealing with the consequences of other people's poor decisions. Sargon knew the feeling well.

“I see. Thy behavior is irresponsible, David. Thy guardian suspects me to be a malevolent being preying upon thine inexperience. Please explain mine presence to thy grandfather.”

The woman’s voice was calm, and she spoke with a smooth cadence as she scolded David.

Sargon allowed himself to slightly relax as he firmly addressed his squirming grandson.

“Yes, David. Please explain this… situation.”

David gulped nervously and looked back and forth between the expectant stares of the two adults before answering.

“Uh… this is Gwyndolin. He’s the new superhero, Slither! We were doing superhero stuff, and I got bored because he said I wasn’t allowed to go fight bad guys because I’m small and I don’t know how to fight. He started to tell me stories about how he was little and was learning magic, so I asked him to teach me magic but he said I couldn’t without your permission. I asked him what happens if you say no and he said it was your choice, but I really want to learn magic and nobody is willing to teach me and I was scared you wouldn’t talk to him if I told you everything and… yeah. Can I learn magic, grandpa?”

Sargon let out a breath of relief as he was overcome with a confusing mix of emotions that was equal parts frustration, self-recrimination, and greed.

He ignored David’s puppy dog eyes in favor of rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to stave off a headache.

“Give me a moment… I need time to process this.”

The woman who was apparently a man—Sargon ignored that with the experience of an old mage who had just spoken to a sentient non-binary street the day before—merely nodded his understanding while David fidgeted nervously. 

Sargon closed his eyes so he could think more clearly, he trusted his mentor and his animations to defend him if he were attacked.

Sargon was frustrated because his grandson had been behaving in a way that was very… foolish. 

He was inclined to believe that this Gwyndolin did not have bad intentions for the simple fact that he could find no motive for his actions if that were the case. The Ruby of Life might be a powerful artifact, but Gwyndolin was powerful enough to simply take it whenever he wanted, and he hadn’t. 

Not only that, but Sargon had been paying a small amount of attention to the superhero that had recently started operating in Miami. Nobody would make as many powerful enemies as this man had in order to deceive somebody like Sargon. He simply wasn’t important enough for such efforts.

David didn’t know all of this, however, when he attached himself to a strange being of significant power, which made Sargon frustrated at his grandson’s poor judgment.

That frustration was immediately followed by self-recrimination because teaching his grandson good judgment was his responsibility, so the failure was his. 

After his son’s death, Sargon had thrown himself into his work and paid little attention to what David was doing as long as he was safe. Was it really any surprise that the boy would latch on to an adult who was willing to spend time with him and could even potentially teach him magic when Sargon had refused to do so?

That needs to change , Sargon vowed to himself.

To his shame, Sargon could also feel a small amount of greed. 

For his entire life, he had been forced to endure the disdain of the rest of the magical community for deriving his power through a magical artifact instead of relying on his family’s magical traditions or bloodline. 

The magical knowledge of the Sargent family was utterly inferior to a family like the Zatara’s. This was a fact of which Sargon had always been excruciatingly aware.

He had some support from his mentor, but that was a mostly transactional relationship based upon the Ruby of Life. His mentor created the Ruby and had a special interest in the people who wielded it. Sargon would willingly go out and handle errands and in exchange, he would be given protection and occasionally be taught a bit of magic. 

From an immortal mage like Nommo Balewa that was a good deal, but it wasn’t a true apprenticeship. 

If a being as powerful as Gwyndolin was willing to genuinely teach David magic, that would completely change the course of his grandson’s life and the lives of any children who came after him.

 That was an extremely tempting proposition that Sargon couldn’t convince himself to dismiss out of hand, nor was it one he could easily accept given he knew nothing about this entity.

Sargon returned his attention to Gwyndolin and David.

“David, go to your room. Gwyndolin and I need to speak in private.”

“Fine…”

David left to his room sullenly and Sargon found himself alone with Gwyndolin.

“Why do you want to teach my grandson magic? What are your intentions?” asked Sargon, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Gwyndolin tilted his head and responded in a placid tone. “‘Tis not mine intention or goal to teach thine ward, magic. Such is entirely his own desire. A lack of alternatives, however, might compel the child to make rash decisions.”

Sargon barely held back a wince. That was certainly true. Children and poor decision-making went hand in hand. “Why does that matter to you?”

Gwyndolin seemed to consider the question for a moment before responding.  “Thy grandson is very kind, and I find mineself fond of him. He approached me in the park despite seeing mine true form with the intent of requesting mine aid in the protection of others.”

Gwyndolin paused and then smiled fondly, “‘Twas foolish mayhap, but endearing.”

Sargon could feel his tension easing further at Gwyndolin’s explanation. He could be faking his fondness, but Sargon’s instincts were saying otherwise.

“I’m inclined to believe you,” Sargon said honestly. “And your tutelage could be a great benefit to my grandson, but the problem is that I don’t know you.”

Gwyndolin nodded calmly, as if he had been expecting this. “Ask thy questions. I shall either speak the truth or refrain from answering. I have cast an illusion to maintain our privacy.”

Sargon startled in surprise, then expanded his senses until he found the illusion. He had not even noticed it being cast. From what he could tell, it only hid sound from his mentor’s scrying; Gwyndolin had likely allowed sight to remain unchanged for Sargon’s comfort. 

Sargon pushed away his discomfort at the subtle illusion and started with the most obvious question. “What are you and where did you come from?”

“What I am, I shall not share until greater trust is grown between us,” said Gwyndolin. “As for thine other question, I recently arrived from another reality.”

“Why did you come here?”

Gwyndolin winced. It was a greater show of emotion than anything he had shown through the rest of the conversation. “‘Twas not mine choice.”

Sargon wanted to ask more, but something in Gwyndolin’s tone told him questions on that topic were not welcome. He felt some sympathy as well, it must be a lonely thing to be stranded in another reality without your loved ones. Sargon assumed returning was beyond Gwyndolin’s power, he didn’t know much about interdimensional travel, but he knew it was nothing simple.

“Has David told you why I haven’t taught him?” Sargon asked with some discomfort.

Gwyndolin nodded, and his tone was sympathetic when he responded. “David claimed thy previous apprentice had perished, rendering thou unwilling to take another.”

“That’s about right.” Sargon was grateful he didn’t need to explain any more than that. “I know my decision is based on my feelings more than logic, but learning magic is dangerous, and I don’t think I could deal with it if something happened to that boy. Especially not when he’s got his head full of superhero worship.”

“Thine sentiment is valid, yet to deny thy ward training is to deny him protection against thine enemies. Thine artifact is not infallible, and thy presence is not absolute.”

That sentiment was one that Sargon had heard before, it was why many heroes ended up training sidekicks. 

When you had enemies, there was no guarantee that those enemies would not target your loved ones; a secret identity was not a perfect defense. That was why many superheroes kept their romances inside of the community and often trained their kids to protect themselves.

Sargon may not like Zatara, but he could understand why the man was so hostile to people he did not know. A certain amount of paranoia was inevitable when your vast magical power was connected to your bloodline and you had a young daughter. There were no shortage of evil people in this world willing to do heinous things for power.

There was a good reason he spent so much time in the safety of Shadowcrest teaching his daughter.

The problem was that when a superhero kid was strong enough to overpower multiple adults either through extreme training, exotic technology, or superpowers, it was hard to stop them from using those powers to protect others. 

This was especially true in a country like America, where the most exalted individuals were superheroes who regularly disdained government authority. 

Sargon sighed in defeat. This entire interaction had proven that he needed to play a greater role in his grandson’s life and that he needed to… overcome his apprehensions about training David. If he didn’t, then the boy might do something stupid, like trying to learn magic from a demon. 

Yet, the presented opportunity to elevate his family’s magical knowledge was not one he could bring himself to discard. If his family’s magical heritage had been more robust, then maybe his son…

Sargon banished such thoughts. He didn’t want to completely deny this opportunity, so he would offer a compromise.

“I’ll teach David myself,” Sargon said firmly.

“Very well,” said Gwyndolin with calm acceptance.

Seeing his reaction, Sargon grew more confident in his decision.

“You’re operating as a superhero in this city, correct? I believe David called you Slither?” Sargon forced down his humor at the silly name. He had heard worse.

“I am.”

“If you’re interested, I’m willing to help you with that. I have a lot of experience in heroics and I have many contacts that could be helpful. There’s a lot more to being a superhero than beating up criminals.”

It was hard to tell how Gwyndolin felt about his proposal, but he seemed to be considering it at least.

“What dost thou desire in recompense?”

“Nothing. I just want to use this as an opportunity to help a fellow hero,” said Sargon, mostly genuine. “Besides, I live in this city and you’ve gone and stirred up a hornet’s nest. Helping you out also gives me the chance of getting to know you so I can feel more comfortable letting you teach David. He’s my successor, so if that happens, then I’m willing to repay you by teaching you my own magic.” 

Sargon didn’t hold much trust in altruism—if Gwyndolin proved himself trustworthy, then mutual exchange would be a preferable foundation for their relationship. Especially when he was the weaker party. He might be a middling mage without the Ruby, but his animation magic was fairly unique. 

Gwyndolin remained unruffled for most of his proposal, but Sargon could tell he was interested in learning new magic.

“I see no reason to decline thine proposal.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Sargon and Gwyndolin spent several more minutes going over the details before David was informed of their decision. He was predictably ecstatic about learning magic from his grandfather. When he saw the hope in his grandson’s eyes, Sargon repeated his vow to be more involved in David’s life.

Eventually, Gwyndolin left, much to David’s disappointment.

Sargon and David needed to have a long conversation—but first, he needed to have an even longer conversation with Nommo.

Sargon released a weary sigh. He had been hoping for a relaxing day off.

Chapter Text

A Latino man with pure white hair who was wearing a skin-tight red and white uniform was sitting on a bench in a destroyed warehouse. In front of him was a half-melted table upon which were lines of neatly arranged white powder.

Snowflame ignored the bullets bouncing off of him as he snorted a line of cocaine. Sure, he could just absorb the drugs with his powers, but sometimes you’ve just got to have respect for tradition, right?

A bullet bounced off his face and messed up his line. With a huff of annoyance, Snowflame idly threw a ball of white-colored flames at the morons trying to kill him. 

As he turned his attention back to the drugs, Snowflame wondered not for the first time why people continued to shoot at him after they saw it didn’t work. Though he supposed he should thank them. 

The sound of screams and the smell of melting flesh were always welcome while he was high, which was pretty much always.

These particular morons belonged to the Medellin Cartel. The stupid fucks thought that they could take him on the second they managed to recruit some meta who didn’t know who he was fucking with.

Sure, the kid had been strong enough to rip a tank in half and throw the pieces through the sky, but who gives a fuck? Snowflame had loaded up on cocaine, gotten the kid high with a single touch, and melted the poor bastard while giving him a beatdown. 

Now his mostly melted head was laying in his lap and the Medellin fucks were trying to fill him full of holes for some reason.

Maybe they thought he was tired? Or that his powers ran out? 

He wasn’t a fucking battery. He could fall asleep, and these worthless shit stains still wouldn’t be able to do shit to him!

A few more fireballs and the rats went scurrying, leaving Snowflame alone with his drugs.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before a different rat came to bother him. This time they were one of his, so he couldn’t melt them for no reason. What a shame.

“The fuck do you want, kid?”

The brat fucking squeaked and handed him a phone, telling Snowflame the boss wanted to talk to him.

He didn’t know why the boy was so nervous—Snowflame thought he was a pretty chill dude. He only melted people if they got in the way of his coke or if the boss told him to, so the kid should calm the fuck down.

Snowflame took the phone and shooed the kid away before the brat pissed himself—piss didn’t smell good while he was high.

“Hey, boss. Just killed the Medellin’s new meta. What’s up? How’s your day going?”

“I have a target for you. Some hero has been fucking up our boys up in Miami and I need you to take care of it.”

Snowflame sighed in exasperation, the boss was always about work. He never asked how his day was or wanted to make small talk, the guy should learn to live a little.

There wasn’t much to be done about it though so he’d just get this conversation over with so he could get back to his cocaine. “Sure thing boss. Who do you want me to kill?”

“The hero’s name is Slither. Some kind of snake meta that popped up a few weeks ago. The information will be waiting for you when you arrive.”

As always, the boss hung up as soon as he was done talking. Rude. 

Snowflame groaned and decided he might as well start making his way to the airport. He hadn’t had Miami cocaine in a while and he couldn’t remember if it was any good. 

Hopeful it wasn’t shit.

--------------------------------------------------------

An androgynous Asian man dressed in traditional Japanese clothing was casually putting away his brush. He had just finished the tedious process of painting the necessary runes throughout his ritual chamber. 

Using human blood for the runes was inconvenient, but unfortunately necessary.

Maro Ito looked down coldly at the bound woman in the center of the room who would finally complete his ritual. 

It was not an easy thing to give life to folk legends in the modern age. In order for his magic to take hold, he needed a sizable amount of people to believe in them, and so many people now dismissed such things out of hand. 

Thankfully, the increasing occurrences of supernatural and metahuman activity resulted in people becoming more… superstitious.

He had already had his agents spread the legend of Kuchisake-onna in this Japanese city and ritualistically killed many young women in a manner similar to the story in order to further the rumors. Now the city was in a panic, and there was finally enough belief for him to turn fantasy into reality.

“P-Please don’t kill me. I have a family! My daughter is expecting me home in a few hours!”

Maro returned his attention to the woman who was struggling against her bindings and begging for her life.

“Your daughter is already dead,” Maro said dispassionately, reaching for his ritual knife. “As far as the people of this city are concerned, she was killed by Kuchisake-onna a few hours ago.”

Ignoring the woman’s cries and denials, Maro placed his knife in the woman’s mouth and carved a slit from ear to ear, and then covered her mutilated mouth with a cloth mask. Once that was done, he granted her the mercy of death and began chanting his spell.

There was no need for the woman to be alive for the rest of the ritual, after all, and Maro Ito was a merciful man when circumstances allowed.

For a long time, it seemed as if nothing would happen until suddenly the corpse began to move and its skin started to lose pigment until it was as pale as a ghost.

Maro was not able to see it with his own eyes past the mask, but he was certain that the corpse’s mutilated mouth had grown larger and more exaggerated. His puppets tended to match their myths after all.

Kuchisake-onna released a mournful wail as she lifted herself from the floor and reached for the large pair of scissors Maro had gone to great lengths to acquire. 

It was not a simple thing to find scissors that could cut through steel.

After Kuchisake finished settling, she stood silently as she awaited Maro’s instructions. He found himself slightly disappointed at her silence.

His puppets could speak, but they were rarely interested in speaking to him. Some lingering trace of the person they used to be remembered what he did to them which caused his puppets to resent him.

That was only a small nuisance, however. As long as his puppets did as they were told, it did not matter how they felt about him.

Speaking of puppets…

Maro absentmindedly cast a spell to clean the blood off his Haori as his first and most important puppet approached him.

“Sister. How can I help you?” Maro said evenly. Only his ‘sister’ knew him well enough to hear the mockery in his tone.

A beautiful Japanese woman with long dark hair, brown eyes, and wearing a black kimono walked down the stairs and into the ritual room. She was expressionless as she formally bowed to Maro before speaking.

“Brother, instructions have come from Lord Falchion. He wishes for you to slay the new American hero who has been attacking the Medusa Syndicate in Miami.”

Maro Ito hummed in disinterest instead of answering. Falchion, the troublesome demigod, was the newest fool to consider himself Maro’s master.

He had escaped both his father and R’as Al Ghul. This Falchion would be no different. 

Unfortunately, the time for that had not yet arrived, so he would need to continue playing the servile follower. However, there was no need for him to go in person.

“You go. Take my new puppet with you.”

“Are you certain, brother? The instructions were for you.”

Maro sneered derisively as he walked over and placed his hand on the woman’s cheek in a mockery of tender affection.

“Don’t you understand by now, Sune? You are merely a product of my magic. You exist only because I want you to. You are an extension of my will, and any actions you take are my own.”

Sune Ito clenched her fists and bowed her head in obedience before quickly leaving alongside Kuchisake-onna a moment later.

After he was certain his puppets had left, Maro began shapeshifting his appearance into one of his unused identities. 

Rising Sun had insisted on personally investigating the recent deaths of young women and was making an uncomfortable amount of progress.

Now that his ritual had been completed, it would be wise to leave Japan until the hero decided to move on.

---------------------------------------

A skeleton with a cybernetic leg who wore a well-tailored suit was smoking a cigar and reading the classified documents sitting on his desk.

Ever since Superman’s debut, superheroes had been popping up all over the place and Director Bones was busier than ever. 

The bureaucrats in Washington were ecstatic that America was finally getting some heavy hitters after they fucked up with the Justice Society. They tried to force the old generation of superheroes to unmask and put themselves on the government payroll, then they were surprised when all their strongest superheroes retired. Idiots.

After that, America watched warily for the next few decades as foreign nations gradually started to close the gap in superpowered force, and now that was coming to an end. 

So yeah, the bureaucrats might be happy, but Director Bones was not. 

As Director of the Department of Extranormal Operations, he not only had to keep an eye out for superhuman threats but also make sure the superheroes didn’t become a threat themselves.

The director was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of someone knocking on his office door.

“Come in, Agent Chase.”

The door opened and a young blond woman with short hair and a severe expression entered his office and sat in the chair on the other side of his desk.

“Good afternoon, Director.”

“Good afternoon, Agent. I have a mission for you.” 

The director handed the woman a folder filled with documents and focused on enjoying his cigar while he waited for her to finish reading. It didn’t take her long, and she spoke up after a few minutes.

“Why are you sending me to Miami to gather information on this guy? There are new superheroes popping up all the time. What makes this one special?”

Director Bones breathed out a cloud of smoke before answering. “Nothing really. The guy looks weird and has a bunch of different powers, but I’m not really concerned about him in particular. I’m concerned about the Justice League.”

“What the hell is the Justice League?” asked Agent Chase curiously.

“The heroes that got together to fight off the Appellaxians have decided to form the second coming of the Justice Society. Apparently, they enjoyed working together so much they decided to go steady,” said Director Bones, handing over the classified documents he had been reading a moment ago. “Superman, Wonder Woman, and Batman decided to declare their intentions to the government, and ask for feedback.” 

Of course, by “ask for feedback” what I really mean is they told the president how it’s going to be and they asked him what they needed to do to stop the government from making a fuss about it, Director Bones mused. 

It’s not like the American government could do anything to stop a group of such powerful superheroes from organizing themselves.

“That’s big news, but what does that have to do with Slither?” asked Agent Chase, not seeing the connection.

“The White House has expressed an interest in keeping an eye on the Justice League’s internal affairs. Unfortunately, we ain’t got jack shit on any of their founders,” said Director Bones, allowing himself to huff in frustration.

“Nothing at all?”

“Not a damn thing. We’re pretty sure we’ve got a decent idea of Superman’s secret identity, but the White House ain’t willing to risk losing him like we lost the Justice Society.”

Superman was the strongest American superhero in this generation, maybe even in all generations if the D.E.O’s analysts were right. Alien heritage notwithstanding.

Nobody in the government wanted to risk scaring him off to another country or forcing him to retire by trying to blackmail him with his civilian identity.

“Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter are foreign nationals and Green Lantern is a space cop so they’re all outside our jurisdiction. Batman and Flash are both very good at hiding their civilian identities.”

Director Bones was grateful he wasn’t a politician. The politics of Wonder Woman and Aquaman being founding members of an American-based superhero team were thankfully not his problem.

“I’ll admit, maybe I’m slow but I’m still not seeing how this connects to Slither, boss,” said Agent Chase. She was very interested in the Justice League, but she still couldn’t see any connection between a new superhero team and her mission.

“The Justice League has stated their intention to recruit new members in a few months.”

With that piece of information, Agent Chase immediately understood her boss’s intentions. 

“You want to cultivate a relationship with their potential recruits so we can get information from someone on the inside.”

“Bingo, that’s why you’re my favorite Agent Chase,” said Director Bones. Chase had shown herself to be a capable agent and was quickly rising in the organization. “I’ve already sent Agent Barret along with Agent Omni to gather information on the new guy in Fawcett. I’ve done the same for a few other superheroes our analysts listed as most likely for Justice League recruitment.”

“Agent Omni? Isn’t he a little too… young?”

“A psych profile put together by our analysts of the guy up in Fawcett point to him being unusually immature. Agent Barret is too much of a hardass to form an amicable relationship with him alone.”

Agent Chase nodded her understanding. “Is that the ultimate goal of this information gathering? We’re trying to make friends?”

“That would be the best case scenario,” said Director Bones. “All efforts to increase our influence over the superhero community have failed. When it forms, the Justice League will instantly become the most powerful organization in this country. We can’t afford to not have a relationship with any of their members.”

“So you want me to figure what I can about Slither and then offer the D.E.O’s support?” asked Agent Chase, her tone growing more serious as the significance of this mission dawned on her.

“Exactly. The stick failed with the Justice Society, so we’ll try the carrot this time,” said Director Bones, pleased that his subordinate was quick on the uptake. “And if the carrot doesn’t work, then hopefully the information you and the other agents gather will give the stick a little more leverage.”

Director Bones and Agent Chase spent a few more minutes going over the details before Agent Chase left and the director was left alone to enjoy a few moments to himself. 

He had a feeling that these short few moments would become non-existent after Justice League was formed, so he might as well enjoy them while he could.

Chapter Text

As Gwyndolin pulled on his metaphysical connection to the Sphere of the Gods, he felt himself being pulled out of the material world. He had assumed that he would only be dragged to the Sphere mentally, but it seemed his physical body was being taken there as well. Spreading his senses, Gwyndolin could tell that it would be easy to find himself lost in the infinitely large realm. 

Fortunately, the portion of the Sphere that the connection was taking him towards was also the portion that he instinctively knew was his own. After a few moments, Gwyndolin arrived at his portion of the Sphere to see a sight that took his breath away.

Gwyndolin looked around and was overcome with emotion as he took in the sight of his chambers in Anor Londo. He had many memories, both good and bad, of this room. Gwyndolin had been born, died, and lived for longer than he could count in Anor Londo and he had thought he would never see it again. 

For his realm to take the form of this city was a blessing that filled him with nearly overwhelming joy.

Examining the room, he was happy to see the books on magic, history, and all kinds of scholarly subjects strewn around the room. He had always been a bit messy when he knew nobody was watching. Gwyndolin was grateful Sulyvahn had not decided to keep him in this room; he would not want this place ruined with such horrid memories.

Gwyndolin left his chambers and spent the next hour gleefully exploring his realm. From what he could tell, his portion of the Sphere took the form of a perfect replica of Anor Londo at the height of the Age of Fire. The only difference being the lack of any people and the full moon hanging over the night sky.

Gwyndolin was growing accustomed to the moon of his new world, but he was grateful for the chance to once again lay eyes upon the moon he had spent most of his life with. 

The large structures of the city emphasized its emptiness, but Gwyndolin did not find it particularly lonely. He had many years in Anor Londo in nearly complete isolation, so he had long since learned to be content keeping his own company.

Gwyndolin was pleased to discover that everything seemed as he remembered until he reached the top of Yorshka’s favorite tower. 

Laying atop the balcony that overlooked his sister's church was a large ornate bowl that seemed to serve as a container for a shimmering silver liquid. A beam of moonlight inexplicably poured down into the bowl and seemed to coalesce into this strange substance.

Somehow, Gwyndolin instinctively knew that this substance was not only safe, but also extremely important. Without hesitation, he moved over to the bowl and touched the liquid moonlight with the intent of examining it. The substance looked like a liquid, but moved around his palm like a gas and fell back into the bowl as soon as he tried to remove it. 

This told him little, but fortunately, whatever strange instinct it was that told him the substance was beneficial now also told Gwyndolin its function.

This bowl of liquid moonlight was a metaphysical representation of Divine Energy, a source of power inherent to the gods of this reality. The collective faith of mortals in the physical realm would flow into the Sphere of the Gods and eventually be distributed to the divine beings that could access it.

This did not surprise Gwyndolin. He had known the power of faith his entire life, even if he had trouble utilizing it himself.

There were many varied factors that influenced the amount of this energy that each deity would find distributed to them. These factors included the number of faithful mortals who worshipped them, the degree of their faith, the overall level of magic in the world, or even the influence of the god’s domain. A war god of a peaceful world would find themselves bereft of this power regardless of how exalted they were.

Despite these limitations, Gwyndolin knew this energy was an extremely potent source of power. 

By using Divine Energy, Gwyndolin would be capable of feats he could not easily replicate with magic. It could be used to enhance his own body to increase his physical capabilities, enchant items with powerful effects, or even bless mortals with incredible power. 

These were the most obvious uses, but in truth, Divine Energy was like magic in that there were very few things it could not be used to accomplish. Compared to magic, however, the effects of Divine Energy were an order of magnitude more potent.

Of course, the effect would be much more potent if the Divine Energy would be used in a way that synergized with his domain or if enhanced with the power of faith. If Gwyndolin were to bless a sword associated with the moon and gift it to a mortal who worshipped him, its power would be extremely formidable. Had he possessed Divine Energy in his old world, his covenant would have wielded truly terrifying power.

As it was, Gwyndolin could tell that he currently had no worshippers in this world. The closest equivalent was the mortal ‘fans’ he had acquired as a superhero who only marginally increased the rate at which his Divine energy replenished itself. Thankfully, as long as the moon still hung in the night sky, Gwyndolin’s supply of Divine Energy would continue to restore itself.

As far as he could tell, one of the main factors limiting the power Gwyndolin could derive from Divine Energy was his capacity to store it. There were many things he would not be able to accomplish even if Gwyndolin used his entire supply of Divine Energy, therefore increasing his ability to store it would benefit him.  

Regrettably, the only way he could see to accomplish such a task was through receiving the direct faith of mortals over a long period of time.

Gwyndolin considered the matter and quickly decided this would not be his focus. While he was accustomed to being worshipped, it was not in his nature to seek attention. If the faith of this world’s mortals increased his capacity, then he would be grateful, but he would rather focus on increasing his power in a different way.

Not to mention the fact that increasing his capacity in such a way would require many years of effort, even if he was widely worshipped.

The other main factor limiting his power was a combination of his skill in wielding the energy and an understanding of the best ways to use it. Just like his sorceries, he would need to learn how to best channel this source of power to achieve his goals. He would also need to seek inspiration on how to best synergize this new source of power with his domain. 

Creativity was important when creating new magics, and Gwyndolin could tell it would be equally important if he wished to make full use of Divine Energy.

Gwyndolin sighed in resignation as he reached the obvious conclusion. The most straightforward source of both knowledge and inspiration regarding the use of Divine Energy was the other gods with whom he shared a domain.

When he decided to travel to the Sphere of the Gods, Gwyndolin was already intent on determining the intentions of the lunar gods searching for him, but now he also needed their cooperation.

How vexing.

Since arriving in the Sphere, he could tell that the other gods had sensed him and wished to enter his realm. 

Seeing no reason to delay, Gwyndolin decided to prepare for their arrival. He considered hiding away his serpents with illusions in order to prevent the gods from being able to find him in the mortal world but ultimately decided against it. If he did so, then he would need to avoid using his name as well, now that his true name was public knowledge. 

Gwyndolin would simply have to be prepared for the possibility he might have to confront hostile gods in the physical realm. However, he did not think that would be the case. If Gwyndolin could benefit from collaborating with other lunar gods, then it stands to reason that they would gain more from a friendly relationship than a hostile one.

The next thing he needed to do was deal with the bowl filled with liquid moonlight.

He knew there was nothing that the gods could do to harm him while he was in his personal portion of the Sphere, but he still did not feel comfortable allowing them to see the receptacle containing his Divine Energy.

It felt too precious.

With a wave of his hand, Gwyndolin banished the receptacle to his chambers. After expanding the size of the balcony until it was large enough to comfortably hold multiple gods, Gwyndolin allowed the most powerful of the lunar gods to enter his realm first. 

He would prefer to meet them one by one, so he would prioritize the most powerful one to avoid causing any insult.

Despite his caution, Gwyndolin could not help but feel curious about his fellow lunar deities. He had tried to research this world’s gods through the internet, but most of what the mortals knew seemed like nonsensical fairy tales, so he had dismissed it.

He did not have to wait long. A woman appeared on the balcony, forming out of thin air with surprisingly little fanfare. 

She wore an ornate azure robe with gold accents that was styled in a manner that he had only seen amongst the nobles of the eastern lands. Gwyndolin found himself surprised as both her features and her intricate headdress were also things he had only seen in the eastern lands.

He had been expecting the most powerful lunar god to be a member of either the Greek or Egyptian pantheons, so this was an unexpected result.

A rabbit inexplicably materialized next to the woman and immediately ran off to go exploring. Gwyndolin ignored the creature as it was simply a fragment of the god in front of him and he didn’t mind if she explored his realm while they were speaking.

The deity showed no reaction to seeing Gwyndolin’s true form as she bowed shallowly and greeted him with a polite expression.

“Greetings. I am pleased to make the acquaintance of a fellow deity of the moon. I am known as Chang’e. May I ask for your name?” 

Gwyndolin could tell the goddess was speaking a language that was unfamiliar to him, but for some reason, he seemed to understand her, regardless. He wasn’t sure if the source of this phenomenon was a feature of the Sphere of the Gods or the deity in front of him, but now was not the time to ponder such things.

With practiced ease, Gwyndolin offered her a formal Lordranian bow meant to express respect towards an equal. Even if he could tell Chang’e was much more powerful than him, Gwyndolin’s pride would not permit him to demean himself in his own seat of power.

“Greetings, Chang’e. I am known as Gwyndolin. I have not had the opportunity to meet another god since arriving in this world and am pleased that this has changed,” said Gwyndolin, ignoring the fact that he had avoided their attempts to find him since he had arrived.

It was obvious the lunar gods knew Gwyndolin was not from this world given their incessant attempts to find him since his arrival, so he didn’t bother trying to hide it.

“I would be grateful for the opportunity to learn more about your previous world, but first I would like to offer reassurance,” said Chang’e, her tone solemn and formal. “There are too few lunar deities who frequent the mortal realm. I and my compatriots wish only to offer you peace and cooperation.”

Hearing this, most of Gwyndolin’s tension disappeared. Given the way Divine Energy functioned, it made sense for gods of the same domain to maintain an amicable relationship.

“I am grateful for your words. I am certain peace and cooperation will benefit us all far more than strife and conflict,” Gwyndolin said without subtlety.

After Gwyndolin reciprocated her declaration of friendship, Chang’e also relaxed, allowing her expression to soften into something kinder, yet still polite.

“Thank you for allowing me to explore your realm,” Chang’e said with a smile. He could sense that her rabbit was still touring Anor Londo. “This city is very grand. The world you came from must have been truly beautiful.”

Gwyndolin hesitated. His world had been beautiful during its height, but his last memories of it had been during its decline.  

“It was,” said Gwyndolin, deciding to keep his response simple.

Chang’e seemed to sense his reluctance to speak more about the matter and decided to change the subject. 

“My companions are eager to meet you as well. When we sensed your arrival into our world, we all grew quite curious.”

Gwyndolin could feel the other two lunar deities waiting for permission to enter. He idly wondered why there were only three who wished to meet him when he knew this world had many pantheons.

Gwyndolin allowed the next most powerful deity to enter his realm, still intent on greeting the gods one by one.

The deity did not waste any time, immediately appearing next to Chang’e in a flash of light the moment she was able. The newly arrived goddess quickly glanced at Chang’e—a note of concern in her expression—before turning her focus to Gwyndolin. 

Her skin was tanned like the skin of somebody who spent many hours working in the sun and she possessed a muscular physique that did not take away from her beauty. She stood with the stance of an experienced warrior and exuded confidence. The green and brown tones of her robes, the jade amulet she wore that was shaped like a frog, and the decorative headdress adorned with large leaves led Gwyndolin to wonder if she had a secondary domain over nature.

The goddess bowed to him and offered her greetings.

“Well met. I am Yacy, goddess of the moon and creator of the Esquecidas. I’m grateful for the chance to meet a fellow goddess who shares my domain.”

Chang’e coughed awkwardly and corrected Yacy before Gwyndolin had the opportunity.

“You are mistaken, Yacy. Our new colleague is a god, not a goddess.”

Both Yacy and Gwyndolin blinked in surprise, though for different reasons.

“Truly?”

“How did you know?”

Chang’e nodded to Yacy before answering Gwyndolin’s question. “The magic of my people allows me to sense Yang and Yin. They are metaphysical forces that vary in people depending on both their biological sex and their gender. Your Yin is significantly higher than the average for a man, but I can perceive that you are both biologically male and consider yourself such.”

Gwyndolin did not quite know how to feel about that. He wasn’t quite certain how she differed between biological sex and gender, but it was not something he felt comfortable asking.

Rather than address the topic of his feminine nature, Gwyndolin decided to take advantage of the willingness of the goddesses to ignore his differences and change the topic.

“Well met, Yacy. I am Gwyndolin. I admit to being surprised. It was my understanding that the Egyptian and the Greek pantheons were the most influential in this world, I am surprised they are not interested in meeting me.”

Yacy scoffed before offering Gwyndolin an explanation. “The Olympians haven’t had a dedicated lunar deity since Selene disappeared, and Khonshu prefers to live in Gemworld. Only we lunar deities who happened to be in the mortal realm at the time of your arrival know about you.

Gwyndolin accepted that explanation and they spent a few moments making pleasant small talk, forcing him to fight the urge to preen as Anor Londo was complimented for a second time.

Once the pleasantries were concluded, Yacy and Chang’e politely requested that he permit the last lunar deity to enter his realm.

“Tsukuyomi is also quite eager to meet you. He has been particularly curious about you since we sensed your arrival.”

… He?

Gwyndolin couldn’t stop his growing excitement. If the last lunar deity was a male, then did that mean Gwyndolin would have the chance to meet somebody who had experienced the same difficulties as him?

Gwyndolin could feel a smile growing on his face as he eagerly allowed the final god to enter his realm. However, the moment he laid eyes on said god, he could feel his smile turning into something strained.

Tsukuyomi was a handsome man with snow-white hair and like Chang’e he possessed features that Gwyndolin associated with the eastern lands. Unlike Chang’e, he did not dress in traditional clothes and instead wore one of the modern well-tailored suits that Gwyndolin had learned was the favored style of formal dress for the men of this world. 

His expression was one of cheer and friendliness as he greeted Gwyndolin and the two goddesses.

He was also entirely and completely masculine, despite the fact that he was undoubtedly a god of the moon.

Gwyndolin barely managed to prevent his intense emotions from spilling over into his expression as he returned Tsukuyomi’s greetings and introduced himself. He was not quite certain he had succeeded given the sudden concern he could see from Chang’e.

From there the conversation turned to his origins, and Gwyndolin willingly explained that he had come here from another world, despite the fact that he could barely bring himself to pay attention to the discussion. They did not seem to be particularly surprised. 

Apparently, he was not the only god on Earth that had come from elsewhere.

Gwyndolin forced himself to keep the conversation pleasant as he asked questions about Divine Energy and godly politics while doing his best to avoid looking at Tsukuyomi, but eventually, it became too much for him. 

“Thank you for this conversation. It was a pleasure to meet you all, but unfortunately, my presence is required in the mortal realm.”

The deities looked awkwardly amongst themselves—likely having noticed his discomfort—before saying their farewells. Gwyndolin distantly heard himself agreeing to meet with them at a later time so they could further discuss their cooperation.

After they left his realm and Gwyndolin returned to the mortal realm, he immediately cast a ward over his apartment that would prevent anyone from hearing anything that happened within.

That done, Gwyndolin carefully started to loosen the stranglehold he had over his emotions.

For all of his life, Gwyndolin had accepted his father’s belief that his domain was intrinsically feminine, and that he needed to be as well. Gwyn had raised him like a daughter and forced him to wear the Reversal Ring, and he had accepted that to be necessary because Gwyndolin trusted his father’s judgment. 

Over the years, he had grown to feel comfortable in his own skin and accept his own femininity; he had even learned how to tolerate the disdain of those around him. 

Yet, that did not eliminate the many years he had watched his eldest brother with envy or felt like a stranger in his own body. It did not change the many years he had wasted chasing approval from a man who would never offer it due to something he could not change.

And now, he had been confronted with the fact that none of that was necessary and Gwyn’s decision to raise him as a woman was merely a product of his father’s own bias. 

He had been confronted with the fact that all of the suffering he had endured because of Gwyn’s decision to raise him as a woman had been completely and utterly meaningless.

When Gwyndolin had first seen Tsukoyomi’s gentle confidence and noted how comfortable he seemed with himself, he had seen a possible future that had been taken away from him.

Gwyndolin had accepted that he held some resentment towards his father for the way he had been raised, but for the first time, that resentment curdled into something that resembled hatred.

Gwyndolin wanted to cry, but he had long since learned that tears solved nothing. 

He wanted to rage and destroy everything around him, but he had long since been trained out of such “unwomanly” behavior when he was a child. 

So instead, he did the only thing he could. 

Gwyndolin lost track of time while he screamed and raged as he vented out his frustration and cursed Gwyn to rest uneasily in Nito’s grasp. He did not know for how long this went on, but by the time he was done, he felt exhausted despite his ability to function without sleep.

Gwyndolin lowered the silencing ward and made his way to the bedroom he had thought he would not have occasion to use. He did feel exhausted, but he also felt lighter than he could remember ever feeling before—as if a burden he had forgotten the weight of had been lifted from his shoulders. 

Gwyndolin was still… upset, but Gwyn had taken too much from him already; he did not wish to allow his father to take even more by falling into a cycle of negative emotions. This world had much to offer him, and Gwyndolin was determined to building a life here where he could find his own happiness.

As he lay down on the bed and considered his plans for the following day, Gwyndolin found himself grateful that he had a simple way to vent his negative emotions.

‘Tis to mine fortune that superheroics offer a socially acceptable course of action for relieving mine frustration.

Chapter Text

Gwyndolin was not usually so eager for a fight, but today he found himself looking forward to the oncoming battle.

“You do know this is probably a trap, right?” asked John as he listened to the reports of large amounts of gunfire happening in Escabedo territory.

“I am aware. I will be careful when I respond,” said Gwyndolin. He was glad that the Cartel offered up this easy opportunity for him to release his negative emotions. He had been left wondering when they would finally respond substantially to his attacks, but it seemed like his wait was at an end.

“I’m serious, Gwyndolin. They’re probably ready to roll out whatever villain they’ve prepared to take you on. Whoever it is, they’re probably a heavy hitter. They’ve prepared a battlefield that deep into their territory and chances are they’re going to ambush you.”

“I understand, John. Thank you for your concern, but these lawbreakers have yet to witness my full power. Whatever preparations they have made will prove insufficient.”

“Hmph. Fine, but don’t get cocky. I’ll be ready to back you up if things go sideways,” said John. Truthfully, he was not very worried. Gwyndolin was very powerful. Whatever villain the Cartel sent is probably going to find themselves in over their head.

David cheerfully offered his own well wishes. “Good luck, Gwyndolin!”

The child’s training was coming along well, but he was still far from the point where his grandfather felt he could start participating in superheroes. However, now that he was actually receiving training in magic, the boy was far more patient and had taken well to console duty. John had gotten in touch with one of his contacts, who was a technology expert, to create software that would allow David to more easily track crimes happening in Miami. It had taken a while for the child to learn to use the software, but he had picked it up far quicker than John or Gwyndolin would have been able to.

“Thank you, Chirp. I appreciate your assistance,” Gwyndolin said fondly. The smile the boy offered in response helped to lift his spirits somewhat.

When Gwyndolin offered to bring Sargon along when he teleported, the veteran superhero scoffed.

“I might not be as strong as you, but I’ve been doing the for a long time. I can keep up. Don’t worry about me.”

Under his mask, Gwyndolin rolled his eyes at the ridiculous display of pride, but still accepted the man’s decision.

Without further comment, Gwyndolin cast Hidden Body on himself and then teleported to a rooftop near the location where the battle was taking place. One of the first things he had done after deciding to continue being a superhero was explore the city and memorize locations for him to teleport to.

Gwyndolin looked around and found himself at the correct location, a poorer part of town that was under the near complete control of the Escabedo Cartel. He could already hear the sound of gunfire. It took him only a few minutes to reach the source and for him to see that John had been correct in this most likely being a trap.

The fight was seemingly taking place between the Escabedo and a smaller Haitian gang. Except there were no bodies, and the criminals were lazily firing their weapons in each other’s general direction while standing behind cover.

The criminals had most likely decided to imitate the first crime he had prevented because it was the best way for them to guarantee Gwyndolin would intervene. All of his other appearances had involved him attacking criminal strongholds, so this was the best way for them to lure Gwyndolin to a location of their choosing.

Still, even if they knew had prepared an ambush, Gwyndolin was not too concerned. He would fight carefully and make certain to keep aware of his surroundings, but he did not intend to retreat. If he did, the Cartel would simply try again at a later date with far more subtlety.

With a flick of its tongue, one of Gwyndolin’s serpents tasted the air and revealed the presence of people hiding in one of the nearby buildings. Gwyndolin quickly called David, and after a few minutes, he learned that the building was an old fish processing plant that had been shut down.

Gwyndolin stood at the edge of the roof and fired a flurry of arrows into the weapons of the criminals. He suspected that they had been instructed to lure him into the building, so he didn’t bother to disable them. Gwyndolin wanted to see how they reacted to his presence.

“He’s here!”

As expected, the Escabedo Cartel ran into the building as fast as they could, while the members of the Haitian gang ran off into a nearby alley. Gwyndolin was curious to know why they had been willing to cooperate in this farce, but the most likely explanation was that they had simply been threatened or paid to do so.

Gwyndolin could not see into the building, so it would be unwise to teleport inside. After circling the building, he couldn’t find an entrance into the processing plant that was not guarded. He could potentially blow a hole into the wall, but if they had brought a powerful warrior for this ambush, then it would be unwise for him to degrade the building’s structural stability. Gwyndolin could survive a building falling on top of him, but these fragile mortals could not.

Returning to the front entrance, Gwyndolin decided to send in an illusion. Unsurprisingly, several beams of energy fired from alien weapons passed through the illusion the second it entered the building.

Gwyndolin cast a Hidden Body on himself and sent his illusion to walk further into the building, which allowed him to walk in unmolested. It was interesting to watch the criminals continue to fire uselessly at his illusion. Perhaps they thought he had the ability to turn himself intangible?

The moment he entered the processing plant, it was immediately obvious that the building had been repurposed for the storage of the Cartel’s drugs. Why would the Cartel decide to ambush him at such a valuable location?

The gangsters had placed themselves in strategic locations throughout the building. Many of them stood near stacked crates that they could use for cover and a few held elevated positions on the walkways that overlooked the converted storage area.

Lifting himself up onto the walkway, Gwyndolin drew his bow and took a position near one of the gunmen still trying to attack his illusion. He was tempted to simply fire arrows into all the alien weapons. Such weapons were rare and were difficult for the Cartel to acquire in great quantity. The fact that every criminal in the building possessed one was evidence of the Escabedo’s commitment to killing him.

Instead, Gwyndolin decided to wait and see what would happen when the criminals realized they were attacking an illusion. It took long enough that Gwyndolin was beginning to greatly question the intelligence of the mortals, but eventually, someone realized they were wasting their time.

A man who had pure white hair and was wearing a skintight red and white uniform exited one of the nearby rooms and started yelling at the criminals in Spanish. The obvious metahuman was radiating a white flame that did not seem to harm him. This man was likely the ‘villain’ that the Cartel had prepared to confront Gwyndolin.

Gwyndolin found himself a tad disappointed. He was well versed in dealing with fire users, so this was bound to be little challenge.

Seeing that the trap that had been lain by his enemies was no cause for concern, Gwyndolin decided not to continue wasting his time. He watched dispassionately as arrows unerringly found themselves buried in the weapons of the criminals, only to widen his eyes in surprise when the metahuman caught the arrow that had been flying towards his knee out of the air.

“There you are! You’re a sneaky fuck, aren’t you?”

Gwyndolin simultaneously conjured a hastily made shield over his body and threw the nearby criminal out of the way with his serpents. A moment later, a stream of white flames splashed against Gwyndolin’s shield. He felt a bit disgusted at the metahuman for ruthlessly risking the life of his ally.

The flames were hot enough that Gwyndolin noticed the metal walkway beginning to melt. Fortunately, the metahuman’s fire was not as hot as the flames of an experience pyromancer, nor did they hold any magical properties that would eat away at his shield.

A moment later, the metahuman ended his flame and Gwyndolin looked down at him stoically as the unenhanced mortals ran away from the superpowered fight.

Far from being intimidated, the metahuman began to break out into genuine laughter.

“So you’re strong too, huh? Doesn’t matter. Snowflames gonna fuck you up!”

In a display of incredible speed and strength, Snowflame lunged towards Gwyndolin, shattering the concrete floor with the force of his jump. His smile was wide as he struck a flaming fist towards Gwyndolin’s face.

Snowflame lost his smile when his fist passed through the illusion and buried itself in a wall. He pulled his fist from the concrete and turned to find his target, only to be surprised when a beam of blue energy smashed into the walkway beneath him, sending him falling to the ground.

Gwyndolin sent another Soul Sphere directly into the metahuman, burying him into the ground. The mortal seemed to possess enhanced physical capabilities, so such a thing would probably not kill him.

He had expected the metahuman to be incapacitated, but he was surprised to see Snowflame pull himself out of the ground looking only slightly injured. However, Gwyndolin was pleased to note that he was no longer smiling.

“Alright then, fucker. I should’ve known better than to expect you to fight me like a man,” said Snowflame. For some inexplicable reason, the mortal pulled out a container of what Gwyndolin recognized to be mortal drugs out of his costume and started sprinkling it on his exposed skin. “Get ready, pansy. Snowflame is about to push your shit in.”

Gwyndolin was not interested in bantering with the supervillain, so he simply threw another Soul Sphere at the mortal from the other side of the room. The sphere harmlessly passed through all the obstacles between him and Snowflame, only to miss as the metahuman dodged with speed faster than he had previously displayed.

Gwyndolin raised an eyebrow under his mask, surprised. He has grown in strength?
Seemingly uncaring about the millions of dollars of drugs he was destroying, Snowflame covered himself in blazing flames and charged Gwyndolin with great speed.

Gwyndolin was surprised to find himself barely having enough time to teleport away before Snowflame reached his position.

Once again appearing on the opposite side of the room to his enemy, Gwyndolin found himself concerned about the spreading flames. He was well familiar with how quickly flames could spread.

Gwyndolin channeled magic into his catalyst and cast a Snap Freeze that quickly covered the entire building in ice. Unfortunately, this gave Snowflame enough time to close the distance and strike Gwyndolin with a blow that sent him flying. Gwyndolin winced as he noted that a single blow from the mortal had consumed the majority of his shield.

The power of this world’s metahumans was truly obscene. However, Snowflame might be strong, but he was not strong enough.

The mortal lunged toward him to make another blow, flames noticeably diminished due to the frigid air, but was surprised when Gwyndolin dodged his blow.

He was not one for hand-to-hand combat, but Gwyndolin had learned enough over his long life to make sure he was not rendered helpless the moment a powerful enemy closed the distance.

Three of his serpents lunged towards the mortal's feet, pushing Snowflame off balance. The other three flew towards his upper half, which allowed Gwyndolin to completely wrap the mortal with his serpents, lift him off the ground and throw him across the room. He knew Snowflame had not expected him to be so physically strong, and would not be surprised again, so Gwyndolin made certain not to waste his opportunity.

Most of the obstructions had been cleared by Snowflame, something Gwyndolin would eagerly take advantage of.

Channeling magic into his catalyst, Gwyndolin threw wave after wave of Homing Soul Orbs and Soul Spheres at the mortal.

The metahuman had already started charging Gwyndolin once again, but seemed unable to dodge the large number of incoming attacks. He tried to simply push through the spells with his durability, but every time a Homing Soul Orb hit him, Snowflame lost his balance and was then pushed back by a Soul Sphere.

At some point, Snowflame tried to run towards one of the crates filled with mortal drugs, but was unable to succeed as spell after spell rained down on him.

Gwyndolin simply kept up this pattern of attacks until his enemy was lying on the floor, after all, if it worked, then why would he stop? He had never been one to fight fairly.

Gwyndolin looked down at the metahuman that was trying to pull himself off the ground. It had been a good fight, and if Snowflame had possessed a better understanding of Gwyndolin’s abilities, he might have proved an actual challenge.

Alas, there was little the metahuman could do after Gwyndolin had created distance between them and started casting a deluge of spells. He pushed his magic into his catalyst and prepared to cast a final Soul Sphere that would knock the metahuman unconscious.

Just as he was about to finish casting the spell, Gwyndolin widened his eyes in surprise and dodged to the side. His surprise turned to astonishment as the arrow that had been aimed for his heart pierced through his shield as if it did not exist and penetrated his shoulder.

Gwyndolin turned to glare at the woman who had tried to kill him. He did not know how her arrow had been able to pierce his shield, but he suspected the material of the arrowhead to be the reason. It seemed to be made of some strange material that abhorred his magic. Given that he was having difficulties recasting his shield, that seemed like the most plausible explanation.

He could tell little about the woman due to her appearance being hidden by an all-black uniform that helped her blend into the darkness. Her companion, however, had skin that was distinctively pale, ragged clothes that looked to be falling apart, and a simple white mask that covered her mouth.

Gwyndolin wrapped one of his serpents around a piece of debris—prepared to throw it into the trajectory of an incoming arrow—only to pause as multiple pieces of debris came to life and lunged at the archer.

While the woman and her companion found themselves fighting off a swarm of angry crates, Sargon the Sorcerer teleported next to Gwyndolin in a flash of red light and placed a hand on the arrow buried into his shoulder.

“Be careful, Gwyndolin. The arrowhead of this arrow is made of Nth metal. It’s an extremely rare material that nullifies magic,” said Sargon in a tone he had not heard from the man since their first meeting. “I have no idea where these guys got their hands on something so precious, but it looks like someone with a lot of influence wants you dead. Thankfully, while the arrowhead is Nth metal, the rest of the arrow is not.”

The second he had finished speaking, the arrow came to life and started pushing itself out of Gwyndolin’s shoulder. He found himself thankful for the assistance, the arrow had been barbed and would not have been easy for him to remove himself.

“You have my thanks, Sargon. I had not expected these criminals to be capable of injuring me,” Gwyndolin said with genuine gratitude.

He had not known that something like Nth metal existed, or that his enemies could acquire it, so he had not overly worried about the retaliation of the Cartel or the Syndicate. Now, he only felt embarrassed that his overconfidence had allowed a mortal to injure him.

“I’ll deal with the women. The archer looks like she has training from the League of Assassins. I have experience dealing with her type. They shouldn’t be too hard for me to handle. Nth metal is rare enough that I doubt they have another arrow like that prepared. You deal with the metahuman.”

Gwyndolin turned his attention to where had left Snowflame, only to that he had crawled to one of the broken crates of drugs and was busy absorbing its contents.

When a quickly cast Soul Sphere knocked crashed into his chest, the villain turned to Gwyndolin and glared at him with a hateful expression before bursting into flames.

Gwyndolin stared back with nothing but grim resolution.

The only reason he had been injured was because he had been holding back out of fear he might kill the mortal, and he had been ambushed by a magic nullifying metal he had not known existed.

If Snowflame believed he could defeat Gwyndolin just because he had been injured, then he was about to find himself disappointed.

Chapter Text

Gwyndolin wasted no time and immediately cast a deluge of spells in Snowflame’s direction.

Following his lead, Sargon teleported behind the two female assassins and animated the concrete ground. The two women were forced to dodge as concrete tendrils grew from the ground and attempted to constrict them.

One of the women had enough skill to continuously shoot arrows at Sargon while jumping through the air, but the sorcerer’s clothes came alive and snatched any approaching projectile out of the air.

The other managed to effortlessly cut through tendrils and crates with a pair of scissors, but was unable to approach Sargon as more and more animated objects threw themselves into her path.

Gwyndolin kept one of his serpents watching the fight, but otherwise turned the rest of his attention to Snowflame.

The metahuman was responding to his spells with a steady stream of fireballs that intercepted his Soul Spheres as he charged toward Gwyndolin.

Ignoring the metahuman’s incoherent yelling as he approached, Gwyndolin cast a Snap Freeze with twice as much power as he had used prior, and followed up with a powerful Soul Sphere.

An icy fog streamed across the battlefield, instantly freezing everything it touched. When it reached Snowflame, his flames were almost completely doused and ice started to creep along his body. If the mortal were a normal person or a metahuman without pyrokinesis and superior durability, he would have immediately been frozen solid by that spell.

As it was, the magic simply served as a way to stop Snowflame from using his fire to stop the Soul Sphere from smashing into his body and pushing him into a wall with enough force to shake the entire building.

Having had well enough of the metahuman not staying down when he should, Gwyndolin followed the spell with a Soul Stream.

However, he did hold back a little. After all, he didn’t want to destroy the building.

A blinding beam of blue light emitted from the end of Gwyndolin’s catalyst and fired directly into Snowflame over a five-second period.

When the spell finished, Gwyndolin was surprised and exasperated to see that while Snowflame was struggling to stand and frantically throwing white powder onto his body, the criminal had still not given up. Why were the warriors of this world so unreasonably durable?

Gwyndolin started to cast another spell that he hoped would finally force the metahuman nuisance to stop fighting.

With a muttered curse, Gwyndolin dodged to the side as his spell was interrupted by an arrow for the second time. It was only after the arrow passed that he realized it was not made of Nth metal, and thus, would not have pierced his shield. The assassin likely intended to continue taking advantage of his caution as a way to stop him from finishing off Snowflame.

He was tempted to turn his attention to the assassin, but experience told him that would be a mistake. Snowflame was already beginning to heal at an accelerated rate by absorbing more of the white drug littering the building.

Gwyndolin had thought the metahuman’s regeneration would be unable to keep up with his spells, but it seems like he was mistaken.

Pushing his magic into his catalyst, Gwyndolin cast a spell that would destroy all of the crates between him on Snowflame.

The Soul Vortex traveled slowly, pulling all of the drugs into its orbit and firing projectiles in every direction. A Snap Freeze cast over the entire area caused all the white powder in the building to be encased in ice. Now, if Snowflame wished to access the drug, he would need to burn it first.

As Gwyndolin continued throwing a barrage of spells at Snowflame—with the metahuman responding by throwing debris at high speeds—the fight between Sargon and the assassins was deteriorating.

Sargon was an experienced superhero with decades of experience and a powerful magical artifact, but his enemies were more than capable of keeping up with him.

The woman with the scissors seemed to possess some degree of resistance to magic and superhuman strength that allowed her to destroy the sorcerer’s animations. The assassin with the bow possessed a degree of skill and agility along with her own magical abilities that made her difficult to pin down.

Their strategy was obvious to Gwyndolin. They intended to outlast the elderly superhero while ensuring Gwyndolin was unable to finish defeating his opponent. Normally this would not work against Sargon given he was very fit for his age and well-experienced against enemies that thought their endurance greater than his own.

Unfortunately, he’d yet to realize that neither of these women was human. Gwyndolin was not quite certain what they were, but he could tell that they were both magical entities of some variety.

It was starting to look more and more like he would not be able to capture his enemies alive.

As if seeking to prove this thought correct, Snowflame suddenly roared at the top of his lungs and charged at Gwyndolin at his fastest speed. Unlike his previous attempts, this time he moved fast enough that Gwyndolin was unable to cast another spell before he arrived.

However, he did not panic and simply sent forward all his serpents and swung his catalyst at the metahuman as he arrived. This time, Snowflame did not allow himself to be pushed off balance and instead tried to catch Gwyndolin in a hold.

The two of them traded blows for several moments, while the metahuman tried to pin Gwyndolin down. Using his nonhuman legs, Gwyndolin was easily able to avoid Snowflame with his atypical movement.

He was confident he would be able to eventually defeat the mortal and capture him alive so he could be interrogated, but it seemed like he would not have enough time. By now, Sargon had noticed his opponents were not tiring even as he himself started to slow, but there was nothing he could do without retreating.

Knowing that there was little hope at this point for him to capture the criminals without endangering Sargon, Gwyndolin decided to end the fight.

“Sargon! To me!”

With the reflexes of an experienced superhero, Sargon ducked beneath the swipe of scissors sharp enough to take off his head and teleported to Gwyndolin without hesitation.

Maybe it was the tone of Gwyndolin’s voice that tipped Snowflame off, or maybe it was just a result of his instincts, but at that moment, he made a decision that potentially saved his life.

“Oh fucking shit,” said Snowflame, as he turned and ran for the exit.

A moment later, Gwyndolin turned his head to the retreating metahuman and his serpents to female assassins.

The White Dragon Breath was a spell created by Seath the Scaleless that emits a beam of energy from the sorcerer’s catalyst that turns everything it touches into crystals. However, Gwyndolin was unfortunate enough to have known Seath personally, and as a result, he knew a spell much closer to the original dragon breath.

Gwyndolin and his serpents all unhinged their jaws far beyond what a human would be capable of and shot out breaths of white mist from all their mouths. Immediately, piercing white crystals started to grow on every surface touched by the mist, and concrete and steel either found itself destroyed or converted.

By the time Gwyndolin was done casting his spell, he and Sargon were standing in the only unaffected area of a building made entirely of protruding crystals.

Gwyndolin returned his jaw to its normal dimensions and tasted the air for magic. It seemed like the magical entities had managed to escape because the only magic he could taste in the air was Sargon’s and his own.

It was vexing that he’d not been able to capture them, but he was confident they would not be able to escape him a second time. After all, next time he intended to be the one doing the ambushing.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Gwyndolin turned to his ally.

He ignored the disturbed look in Sargon’s eyes and quickly checked him for injuries; he was not surprised at the man’s reaction. People rarely reacted well when they saw him unhinge his jaw, or perhaps the mortal was disturbed by the strength of his magic. It mattered little.

“Our enemies have escaped. There is nothing left for us to do here.”

Gwyndolin’s words must have pulled the man out of his thoughts, because the elderly superhero turned his attention away from the crystal building and quickly agreed.

“Yes, let’s get out of here before the cops show up,” said Sargon. With a silent casting, the elderly sorcerer telekinetically called the discarded Nth metal arrow to his hand. “I need to call some people and figure out where this came from. Nth metal is extremely rare and highly regulated. The Medusa Syndicate might be more dangerous than I expected.”

Gwyndolin looked at the arrow that was still stained with his blood and signaled his agreement with a nod.

Before Sargon could protest, Gwyndolin grabbed the superhero and teleported them both away in a flash of light.

[hr]

Cameron Chase allowed none of her annoyance to show on her face as he presented her identification to the useless Miami cop guarding the perimeter of the crime scene.

Well… useless might be a strong word. It’s not like she knew the kid, but the entire department had proven itself completely incapable of gathering information on Slither—now known as Gwyndolin—so Cameron was in no mood to be charitable.

Her own investigation was not having much more luck, but her interrogations of the local criminals had provided evidence that this superhero was one of the magical variety. That and the D.E.O’s magical specialists claiming that “something weird” was going down in Miami and the wide variety of abilities the target had so far displayed.

Walking past the cop with a smile and thanks, Cameron set her eyes on one of those abilities and was reluctantly impressed. There weren’t very many people who could turn a large building into a giant crystal sculpture, after all.

Walking past the cops who were wandering around and doing nothing of importance, Cameron approached the man who lead the most useless police department south of Gotham City.

She had no idea why the Miami Chief of Police decided he needed to personally go to the scene of Gwyndolin’s latest fight, but Pablo Perez was not a man prone to rational decisions.

The rotund Police Chief was busy yelling at some of the forensic people about their inability to find anything that would help them catch Gwyndolin. That man seemed completely unconcerned that he was currently standing near a building that was, by all accounts, used to store a massive amount of drugs.

To be fair, the Cartel pays him a lot of money to be unconcerned, Cameron mused to herself.

“Excuse me, Chief Perez? I’m Agent Cameron Chase with the D.E.O,” said Cameron, drawing the man’s attention away from the poor forensics worker. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about the vigilante known as Gwyndolin.”

“Huh? D.E.O? Are the feds finally getting serious about getting this freak off my streets?”

No. I’m here to make friends with him so he’ll be willing to feed me information when he gets recruited by the Justice League, Cameron thought to herself. Obviously, that’s not something I’m going to tell this clown.

“Yes, Chief Perez. Any information you can give me would be very helpful.”

Cameron gently guided the man with sympathetic smiles as he whined and complained about “freakish vigilantes” and “worthless detectives.”

However, by the time she was finished interrogating the Chief of Police, Cameron came to the conclusion that the man did not know much more than what was included in their systems. The only thing new she had learned was that the Cartel was likely getting hit pretty hard if Pablo was so eager to find the vigilante.

With a smile that did not reach her eyes, Cameron thanked the man for his time and left the crime scene.

It was starting to look like if she wanted to find Gwyndolin so she could make her approach, she would need to start leaning more heavily on the Department’s resources.

At least I’ve found a suitable peace offering when I finally find the guy. He should be willing to hear me out if the D.E.O helps to clean up the Miami police department, right?

Maybe some of the local members of the magical community would know something?

According to her briefing, there was an old magical superhero who used to operate back in the Justice Society’s days that lives in the city. Apparently, he worked for some big fish nowadays, because bones had told her to step lightly and be polite if she approached him.

Cameron held back a sigh as it became increasingly obvious she would need to approach him.

Hopefully, he would know something.

—--------------

AN: Going to focus on my other story, so updates for this will become more sporadic.

If you’re interested in a Warcraft SI, feel free to check out my other story on FF.net or Spacebattles. A Nerubian’s Journey.