Leader of the Ghouls?

"Whew... fuck..."

After taking two steps, Downton bent over, bracing himself on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

"It hurts like hell. Pain beyond description, but I feel like my whole body is filled with strength.

Adrenaline, right? Thanks to all your hard work, I didn't get to die again and become stronger. Thanks so fucking much."

After mocking himself, he straightened up and tore away all the tattered clothes barely hanging from his body.

Those clothes were stuck to fragments of his skin. Every time he ripped off a large piece, he groaned in pain.

Especially when he tore away the fabric around his crotch. The pain was almost enough to make him laugh.

After finally getting rid of all his clothes, Downton turned aside and walked toward the last surviving soldier like an evil ghost.

Looking at the humanoid creature before him, most of whose body had been stripped of skin while its muscles and tendons still twitched, the soldier's mental defenses completely crumbled.

"AAAAAAAH!"

He screamed hysterically as he instinctively kept firing.

Clang!

A bullet lodged in Downton's teeth.

Pfft!

A bullet sank into Downton's arm.

Walking through the hail of bullets, Downton stopped in front of the soldier and expressionlessly watched him empty his magazine.

Then he reached out and placed his right hand on the soldier's head.

Crack!

Splurt!

First came the crisp sound of a skull shattering, followed by the dull burst of a head exploding.

White and yellow matter splattered across Downton's face, slightly blocking his vision, so he raised a hand and wiped his face.

Though the blood slicked his skin like lubricant, his face still hurt as though it were being burned, pierced by needles, sliced by knives, and hammered apart.

Downton had no choice but to lower his hand. He inhaled sharply, then looked up at the parachutes drawing ever closer overhead.

The Master had descended to around two hundred meters, yet he still had not opened his parachute. As he plummeted, his gaze met Downton's.

More than half of Downton's scalp had been torn away, and only a small patch of facial skin remained near his left eye socket. The Master could see the patterns of Downton's muscles at a glance.

Gulp!

He swallowed lightly, then nodded in satisfaction.

An undying man ought to possess the iron will to face such a ghastly state head-on!

Looking at Downton now, the Master seemed to see his former self.

He too had never feared death. More than once, he had slaughtered his way alone through several guards and appeared before those who deserved to die in their luxurious beds, looking just as Downton did now!

Yesterday, when he had received Jonathan's message, he had doubted, worried, and even thought he would be disappointed.

But now...

He could not have been more satisfied!

The man before him was clearly another version of himself, one with potential far beyond his own!

Still smiling in satisfaction, the Master shifted his posture in midair, slightly changing the angle of his descent.

He raised both arms, and hollow membranes like those of a wingsuit sprang open beneath them. Then, like a swallow, he glided over Downton's head.

Watching the Master sweep overhead, Downton paused slightly.

"A third party dressed like that... the League of Assassins?"

After asking himself, Downton smiled and rubbed his scalp.

"Hiss!"

After sharply sucking in a breath from the pain, Downton looked at the large chunk of scalp he had torn off, rolled his eyes thoughtfully, and smiled.

"Ah, I can't do this anymore. Walking is so hard. This doesn't feel free at all!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Downton tossed the scalp, still attached to a thick lock of hair, aside and fell backward.

A moment later.

Whoosh...

Flames ignited from nowhere, and Downton vanished. Even the scalp and hair he had thrown away turned to ash in the air and scattered.

Only several bullets deformed by impact fell from the air onto the ground.

Meanwhile, near a Smallville café, General Lane covered his face and spoke in agony.

"The more this bastard dies, the stronger his physical abilities become. What laboratory product is he?!

Another squad has lost contact. In just forty minutes, he found and killed all thirty-five of my men!

Am I really not suited for work involving superhumans? Why do I suffer massive losses every time I make a move? Why did I even lose my daughter?

If I could go back... damn it, I should have handed this mess over to that bitch Amanda Waller!"

By the end of it, General Lane's eyes had reddened.

But events gave him no chance to catch his breath. Just as he was overwhelmed by despair, his adjutant suddenly warned him.

"General, an unknown third party has appeared. Dozens of people are parachuting down from above us!"

"Is that so?"

General Lane answered expressionlessly, then looked up with resentment.

His men had intended to fight back, but from a hundred meters or so away, the ninjas began hurling shuriken at them.

The shuriken that fell to the ground clattered loudly, while bullets fired into the sky occasionally burst forth with sprays of blood.

Worst of all, while Lane and his men focused on the enemies descending from above, more than a hundred ninjas emerged from the shadows at street corners throughout Smallville.

Before Lane could react, the ninjas had infiltrated the command vehicle parked at the roadside!

Watching the ninjas' movements, Lane felt both anxious and enlightened.

All the cutting-edge equipment LexCorp had provided him was stored in the command vehicle. Those bastards really had come for that advanced equipment!

"Everyone, National Guard reinforcements will arrive in less than ten minutes. We must hold the command vehicle!

Set Downton aside for now. We have no way to deal with him. Our only target now is that sneaky pack of ninjas!"

General Lane shouted over the communications channel, and his words made the remaining soldiers breathe a sigh of relief.

Over the past forty minutes, as more and more comrades had died miserable deaths, the soldiers had long since become frightened of Downton.

No soldier enjoyed fighting an enemy who could not die.

Especially one who kept getting stronger!

As for these ninjas?

Compared to an undying demon, the soldiers would rather risk their lives against ninjas!

Thus, General Lane's men rapidly pulled back. Within minutes, they had gathered near the café and begun a defensive battle against the ninjas.

Meanwhile, the Ninja Master.

After opening his flight rig and gliding for a moment, he quickly deployed a small parachute.

The instant he felt the dull deceleration as his speed dropped, he flung out the rope dart on his wrist, secured it to a streetlamp pole, and forcibly dragged himself toward it before climbing up the pole.

Casually shedding his gear, he lightly kicked off the streetlamp pole. After two flips in the air, he landed gracefully on the ground.

With one hand resting on the hilt of the straight sword at his waist, the Ninja Master listened closely to the prompt in his earpiece.

"Master, your target has been reborn in flames and is currently at an intersection less than four hundred meters from you."

"Good."

The Ninja Master smiled expectantly, then reached Downton in less than half a minute, moving far faster than Bolt.

When he came to a stop, Downton was robbing a pair of pants from a clothing store by the street.

Noticing his arrival, Downton knocked the saleswoman unconscious and stuffed her into the back room while hurriedly shoving his legs into the pant legs. At the same time, he turned back and grinned at the Master.

"Nice outfit, buddy. What should I call you?"

"Ra's al Ghul."

"What the hell? Leader of the ghouls?"

"It's Demon Head, young man!"