That was how this world worked. Forged from darkness, it was like molten steel that had yet to take shape—perhaps it would never truly settle into peace.
Hecate was dead. Perpetua was dead. Darkseid was dead.
But the world had not changed.
Whenever someone stopped one crisis after another, new crises would naturally continue to arise.
Perhaps from within. Perhaps from beyond.
But one thing was certain: something seemed to have risen from beneath the abyss of darkness again.
When Deathstroke returned to Earth-0, it was just as the streetlights came on. For most people, it was time to go home for dinner, or use their free time to do something they enjoyed.
So he went to the bustling Oblivion Bar. Mages gathered here, coming and going. When they saw Deathstroke, they merely lowered their voices, but they were not panicked enough to leave.
Not a single one of the missing spellcasters had returned so far. It was currently known that Merlin had taken them away, but later, Su Ming discovered that the mad ancient mage was not on the same side as Uncle Darkseid at all.
Their whereabouts had now become a mystery as well.
"Oh, isn't this our invincible Mercenary? Tracy, hurry up and pour me another big glass of your strongest vodka. Put it on Deathstroke's tab."
Constantine, sitting in the corner, had sharp eyes. Though he looked drunk, the gleam flashing through his narrowed eyes showed that things were not as they appeared.
The bartender looked to Deathstroke for confirmation. To the rhythm of the jukebox music, he gave a quick nod.
Bobo was busy right now. He held a tray in his left hand and a rag in his right, sleeves rolled up as he hustled behind the bar. He even had his feet working—his