Gravel and twisted metal crumbled from the craters in the wall, and the massive black object rose again with a sickening scraping sound.
Beneath the helmet, those burning eyes held a rage that was no longer just an emotion, but a tangible force.
"Even if you really are Thomas..." The Merciless voice, distorted and hoarse, emanated from the helmet, each syllable like crushing steel, "You have no right to lecture me!"
Before he finished speaking, he charged at Thor again like a cannonball, cracking the ground beneath his feet.
Thor, however, reacted as calmly as if he were watching a boring play.
With a single, nimble sidestep, he dodged the unstoppable collision.
In the instant he brushed past the Merciless, he bent down, and instead of reaching for Mjolnir with his right hand, he picked up the round shield that belonged to Diana, its edges shimmering with divine light, which was not far away.
He tapped the shield lightly with his fingers, and a crisp "clang" echoed in the empty underground space.
"Just a puppet corroded by its helmet." Thor's voice was still Thomas Wayne's characteristic aged and hoarse tone, yet it carried a condescending sense of judgment.
"Take off that helmet, and what are you then?"
This question, like a red-hot branding iron, was fiercely seared into the Soul Stone of the Merciless.
Everything about him—his power, his anger, the meaning of his existence—stems from this Helmet of the God of War.
"I am Batman!" he roared like Beast, turning abruptly as his massive steel fist once again gathered destructive power. "I will rip your heart out with my own hands!"
He charged again, faster and more ferocious than before.
However, Thor didn't even move a step.
He casually switched Mjolnir from his left hand to his right, and then, like hitting a golf ball, in an almost humiliating posture, swung the hammer backhand at the Merciless charging towards him.
"Clang--!"
Another deafening roar followed. The armor on the Merciless's chest dented, and he was once again sent flying uncontrollably.
But this time, Thor didn't give him any chance to catch his breath.
At the same moment that the Merciless was knocked away, Thor's divine shield in his left hand spun out at a tricky angle, like a deadly crescent moon blade.
Immediately afterwards, he raised his right hand, and Mjolnir, Mjolnir, transformed into a bolt of lightning, following closely behind.
The two divine weapons traced two completely different trajectories in the air, precisely converging behind the flying, the Merciless!
"Boom--!!!"
The divine shield and Mjolnir collided violently in mid-air!
A circular shockwave, more terrifying than any previous explosion, instantly erupted. Divine power and the might of thunder intertwined, forming a devastating energy surge that slammed solidly into the back of the Merciless.
The once-arrogant Dark God of War didn't even have time to utter a scream. Like a fly swatted by an invisible giant's hand, he was violently accelerated and crashed into the distant wall at an even faster speed, smashing a large hole through the thick alloy wall before disappearing into the billowing dust.
The divine shield traced an elegant arc in the air, bouncing back onto Thor's left arm.
Mjolnir, crackling with electricity, landed steadily back in his right hand.
Thor, carrying the two artifacts, walked step by step toward the hole he had blasted open.
He stopped at the edge, looking down at the black figure struggling to get up from the ruins.
" Bruce, you're no longer worthy of the title Batman."
"Look closely, my foolish son." Thor's tone turned low and serious, like a father giving his final words.
"Bats never succumb to fear; this is... the final lesson I'll teach you in life."
As soon as he finished speaking, he raised Mjolnir.
In an instant, the energy of the entire underground space began to surge violently, and countless silver snake-like bolts of lightning converged from all directions, coiling around Mjolnir.
The Hammerhead shone brighter and brighter, eventually transforming into a dazzling star of lightning.
Thor swung his arm, and the warhammer, imbued with the power of a thousand thunderbolts, struck precisely on the head of the black figure— the Helmet of Ares, a symbol of war and destruction!
"Snap--!"
A sharp crack, like glass shattering.
The Helmet of the God of War, which made even the gods tremble, cracked in the middle under the bombardment of the divine power of thunder, turning into countless fragments that clattered and shattered all over the ground.
The face beneath the helmet, Bruce Wayne's face, has finally seen the light of day again.
The burning flame in those eyes was rapidly fading, replaced by bewilderment, pain, and deep exhaustion.
Thor didn't even glance at the artifact fragments, casually tossing Mjolnir to the ground with a dull thud.
He then removed the divine shield from his arm, letting it fall with a clatter next to the hammer.
After doing all this, he stretched his neck, and the power of the laws within his body quietly circulated, instantly adjusting and suppressing his godlike physical qualities to the same level as Bruce Wayne before him—the peak of human potential.
"I'll give you one more chance." Thor looked at Bruce, who was slowly getting up from the ground, his voice devoid of emotion. "Get up, Bruce."
He kicked the two magical artifacts on the ground with his toe.
"You win, you're still Bat." His gaze was as cold as the winter wind of Gotham. "If you lose, I'll send you to Hell, my son."
Bruce was panting heavily as he glanced at the heavy yet magnificent War God armor he was wearing.
Without the helmet's divine power, this armor is no longer an extension of strength, but a cumbersome cage.
He remained silent and began to remove the heavy armor plates from his body, one by one.
Breastplates, shoulder armor, arm armor... heavy metal parts crashed to the ground one after another.
After the last piece of leg armor fell off, a jet-black, tight-fitting combat suit was revealed.
Bruce cracked his joints.
He raised his head, his deep, complex eyes, those belonging to Bruce Wayne, fixed intently on Thor.
"I hope your strength is as tough as your mouth." He practically spat out the words through gritted teeth, a rare, twisted approval in his voice, "... Father."
The moment the last word was uttered, he shot towards Thor like an arrow released from a bow!
However, it was only a fleeting encounter.
Just as Bruce's fist was about to touch Thor's face, Thor's body shifted slightly at an incredible angle, his hand smoothly landing on Bruce's arm, and with a quick pull, his other hand was already gripping Bruce's waist.
A classic, impeccable over-the-shoulder throw!
"Bang!"
Bruce was slammed hard onto the solid ground.
Thor looked down at him, his aged voice uttering words full of contempt:
"Which idiot taught you such crude fighting techniques? You'd better show some real skill, Bruce, or... you're not worthy of being my son."
The next second, Bruce flipped himself up with a somersault, a fierce glint of pain flashing in his eyes. He let out a low growl and pounced again.
This time, it's no longer a simple clash of strength, but a duel of skills.
The two figures collided instantly, fists and feet clashing, muscles colliding, unfolding a most primal and pure fight in this chaotic underground space.
That was a duel of peak human physical ability and skill, a life-or-death struggle between two Dark Knight.
On the other side of the battlefield, Death Tetiyu shifted his gaze from the fierce battle to Diana, who was leaning against the wall and barely managing to stand not far away.
Diana keenly noticed the gaze. She took a breath, frowned, and asked, "What kind of look is that?"
A faint smile appeared on Death's pale face, and his voice was as gentle as a breeze. "Nothing, just thinking that some idiot taught this evil Batman how to fight makes me laugh."
Diana's body stiffened abruptly, and she clenched her fists, the silver wristband making a soft cracking sound.
She knew exactly what the other person was talking about. In the world of the Merciless, that counterpart had indeed taught Bruce, but that had nothing to do with her.
"That's not me," she retorted coldly, her voice tinged with a hint of offended anger.
Death paid no heed to her explanations, but instead turned its gaze back to the two figures locked in combat, and in a relaxed and detached tone, spoke slowly:
"In my eyes, they're all the same anyway."