"Who are you?"
The Lightsaber sprang from his palm as Deathstroke raised the weapon and pointed it at the mysterious freak. What was strange was that he could not tell where this thing had come from, yet every inch of his skin prickled as though pierced by needles. Even Strangle was warning him—this freak felt extremely dangerous to it.
Was it the book in its hand? Or something behind it?
Guessing was useless, but Su Ming judged that it definitely was not Blank, because the figure before him felt far too "concrete." It did not have that ethereal, intangible air about it.
Moreover, when he pointed his weapon at it, the skeleton showed no hostility. Instead, there was a hint of interest in those eye sockets burning with red flames.
Do not ask how one could read an expression from a skull. It truly gave off that sort of feeling.
Deathstroke assumed a combat stance, and everyone else naturally readied themselves at once. Diana even raised her shield and stood in front of him and slightly to the side, clearly assigning herself the role of the tank.
Carol took to the air immediately. As a pilot, her usual tactics were basically all built around aerial strikes; Hela, meanwhile, edged back a little, preparing to cast a spell.
As for the others, Bobo immediately hugged Orange Cat and hid behind Deathstroke, while Jack, carrying the unconscious bartender, did the same. With no combat ability, he proactively stayed away from the battlefield so he would not hold everyone back.
The situation suddenly gave Su Ming the urge to shout some kind of slogan. Something like, "Fun-lovers, assemble!"
But before he could decide on one, the flaming skull in the distance answered him. Its loose jawbone shifted a few times, and an emotionless