Fear was a powerful force. Mister Mxyzptlk knew very well that Deathstroke had already learned his weakness. All he had to do was move his lips, and everything Mister Mxyzptlk could do would vanish like bubbles.
That was how the Fifth-Dimensional Beings' origin was set up: speak their true names, and their powers could be taken away.
This was also a DC specialty, part of the same "Word of God" system as "Shazam!", Backward Speech Magic, and genie magic.
But Deathstroke's demand was truly difficult. Crossing dimensional tiers was no easy matter. Going from a higher dimension to a lower one was simple, but the reverse was as difficult as climbing to the heavens.
That might have sounded a little abstract, but there was a simple example: events in the Third Dimension looked like comic-book stories to Fifth-Dimensional Beings like Mister Mxyzptlk and Bat-Mite, just a collection of lines on a flat plane.
And to the Seventh Dimension, even Fifth-Dimensional Beings were nothing more than lines on a flat surface.
Now a three-dimensional person wanted to enter the Seventh Dimension. That was not something he could figure out just by shaving his head!
Yet no amount of anxiety would help him, because Deathstroke had already begun sharpening his blade.
Dark Man conjured his Golden Lightsaber and pulled a huge mechanical head covered in lens devices from his belt pouch, then began pointlessly grinding the blade against it.
It was a lightsaber. What was there to sharpen on an Energy Weapon?!
But Deathstroke insisted. Amid the screeching cuts, sparks sprayed from the mechanical head, while the bad Mercenary occasionally eyed Mister Mxyzptlk with a sinister gaze, as though choosing where to strike.
At the sight, Mister Mxyzptlk grew even more flustered. He knew Deathstroke was strong, but he had no idea