People always said the world needed heroes, but no one ever said what would happen if the world got heroes who had gone mad.
But such matters were unimportant to ordinary people. What concerned them more now was the story of the multiverse, stories that made their curiosity and ambition expand without limit.
As a beam of light carried Deathstroke and the others away, the palace housing the Golden Door fell silent once more. Yet only a few minutes later, footsteps sounded from the palace entrance. New guests had arrived.
When it entered the Material World with its tangible reality, it took on a humanoid form. It looked like a shriveled skeleton wearing a spacesuit, except inside its helmet burned only a blackish-red flame with facial features.
The skeleton with the burning head walked with its back ramrod straight, a large book resembling a briefcase tucked beneath its arm. A metal handle was attached to its spine, making it look somewhat comical.
The strange figure looked up at the palace ceiling, its gaze seeming to pierce through space and time. An interested expression appeared on its flaming face as it muttered to itself.
"Just as expected, it was still that Deathstroke. He was the key figure behind a series of changes. This multiverse should have been destroyed, but he changed the story. How interesting."
Though it said that, it had not forgotten its purpose. In an instant, it moved from the palace entrance to the pile of bleeding flesh. It held up the book tucked under its arm and opened it like a laptop, then crouched down.
"Wizard Merlin, correct?"
It took a strange pen from its spacesuit and dabbed it against the place where a mouth should have been on its flaming head, apparently imitating the way humans used