The Lantern Beasts of the Seven Corps all manifest their power differently.
When Ion Shark possesses someone and transforms them into Ion Man, the Green Lantern gains the ability to manipulate time and space.
But when the Butcher, the Blood Slaughter Ox, possessed Dante?
That form was simply called: Blood Butcher.
And if you're asking what special abilities Blood Butcher has...
He really doesn't have any.
What he does have—are stats. Brutal stats.
He once possessed a random dad, then went toe-to-toe with the Spectre and beat him senseless.
Yes, that Spectre. God's literal Spirit of Vengeance. One of the most powerful entities in the entire DC Universe, at least on paper.
Sure, he's a weird case, Galactus-level problems. Technically unbeatable, but practically... meh.
Galactus is always hangry. The Spectre? His hosts keep dragging his win rate into the dirt.
The Spectre has one main ability, summed up nicely:
"Whatever the Spectre wants to do... he can basically do it."
He can even cross the Origin Wall like it's a neighborhood fence.
But still got sucker-punched by Blood Butcher and combo'd into oblivion.
Even though he later teamed up with Atrocitus and shoved the Butcher back into the Red Lantern Corps, he could never erase the stain of being the Lantern Beast's most clowned-on victim.
Dante felt the surge as the Butcher fused with him. Power. Rage. Raw combustion.
But since the Red Lantern in this universe was created by Dante himself, even under world-incinerating fury, he remained eerily rational.
Although, his appearance definitely shifted.
I mean—come on. You're not called Blood Butcher and still look like a pacifist.
Dante's height shot up. Crimson rage armor wrapped around his body. A giant red axe materialized in his hand like a demonic warhammer.
Even Harley, who had zero superpowers, could feel the fury and hatred radiating from him like a nuclear core.
Let alone Chthon.
"Rage? Hatred? What kind of power is this? I was born billions of years ago, how have I never seen this before?"
Chthon's voice, cracking through Agatha Harkness's half-destroyed corpse, sounded warped and even creepier than usual.
He'd fought stronger beings before. Like Atum the God Eater, who nearly wiped out all the Old Gods and demons on Earth. Or the true cosmic entities like Death and Eternity, who he'd bumped into during his multiversal exile.
But those were gods of concepts and laws.
This guy in front of him? He had somehow materialized emotion itself.
How could Dante go from a basic human to this after fusing with some rage spirit?
Chthon didn't get it. As the God of the Underworld, the origin of Black Magic, and one of the most learned among the Old Gods.
He still didn't get it.
"You really haven't seen this power? You really don't understand?"
Dante shook his head.
That's the fatal flaw with these so-called "Old Gods."
They always see humans as insects.
"Guess the 'God of the Underworld' isn't that impressive after all."
He bent his knees slightly...
And brought the axe down like a meteor, blazing with furious crimson flame.
Agatha Harkness's remaining skin was torn apart and incinerated.
Gone.
But in this Blood Butcher form, Dante had a heightened awareness of everything. He could feel it.
Agatha's final Black Magic sacrifice had worked.
She had used her life to pull Chthon through the Aether Particle.
Not in his full body, though—just his soul.
Which, for Chthon, was no real downside. This was basically permanent astral projection.
Honestly, it was even better.
If he had returned in his full true form, the ancient aura of an Old God might've triggered his cheerful grand-nephew Atum to come visit again and nobody wanted a repeat of God-Eater-palooza.
So he corrupted Agatha with the darkhold, set the stage, and executed his plan to return in spirit form and possess Wanda Maximoff.
This had been brewing since he first gave her Chaos Magic twenty years ago.
Flawless plan.
Until Dante showed up.
Someone who shouldn't exist in this timeline, wielding power that shouldn't exist in this universe, and somehow kept showing up exactly where he wasn't supposed to be.
Every "coincidence" chipped away at Chthon's perfect setup.
He should've possessed Wanda, force-awakened her X-gene, and become omniversal-level.
Forget Atum. Forget Death and Eternity.
With Wanda's body, he could rewrite entire realities like doodles in a notebook.
But…
Plans meet reality.
And reality punches hard.
Especially when Dante is there with a blood-red axe.
Now?
There was zero chance of taking Wanda.
That one axe strike had already injured him.
Yes—rage power that could directly harm a soul.
If Dante could hear Chthon's thoughts, he'd be rolling on the floor laughing.
Of course it hurts the soul, dummy.
The Emotional Spectrum is the soul.
Emotions aren't hormones. They're soul-deep instincts. That's Lantern Corps 101.
That's why the Spectre—Mr. "Almighty"—keeps getting dogpiled by Lanterns.
"Chthon, I'll give you a choice," Dante said calmly. "Get into the darkhold, replace the soul inside, and let the current one go free. Maybe then I'll consider letting you exist as a page-flipping mascot."
"Greed knows no bounds!" Chthon raged. "I am an ancestor of humanity! An ancient Old God! Why should I become a book?! A book that I created!? It's beneath me!"
Chthon's soul transformed into a mass of scarlet light, almost indistinguishable from Wanda's Chaos Magic.
But after taking two more axe blows from Dante, the light began to dim.
Still, he managed to create some distance—and picked a direction.
Escape.
But the words he just threw out?
Big mistake.
Because someone snapped.
"Chthon, screw your whole family tree! Were you ever human to begin with?! You pathetic god who got double-eliminated from Earth!"
The darkhold lost it.
"You call me a broken book?! I planned your whole comeback tour, jackass! I've had to deal with everyone poking and prodding me, do you even know how greasy those rich pervs are?! I've been touched, bled on, and sacrificed with everything from goat livers to infants! This. Book. Is. TRAUMATIZED!"
It wasn't over.
"And you just dip?! Meanwhile, I've been passed around like cursed!"
Yes. The darkhold was currently still inside Moon Girl's body.
So now?
We had a crying, dark-skinned girl screaming about greasy fingers and ritual trauma.
This timeline is out of control.
Chthon, meanwhile, was stunned.
The darkhold had a soul?
Since when!?
What the hell had this book been doing while wandering Earth?
But none of that mattered now.
He needed to run.
The longer he lingered in this soul form, the more power he'd leak, straight into the darkhold.
And the darkhold shared his original divinity.
Power could be tricked. Redirected.
He had to find a body—fast.
Preferably one with a low mental firewall.
Luckily, souls travel faster than Blood Butchers.
He spotted a direction: outskirts, lots of people.
More people = more hosts.
He could even mask his presence after possession. Dante's transformation probably had a time limit anyway.
If he stalled, he'd be fine.
Wanda's body would still be his in the end.
Chthon bolted.
And soon… he found two targets.
One of them—a familiar face.
Pietro Maximoff.
Chthon flinched.
Not that guy.
Mutant souls were tanky. Harder to erase than regular people. He only had a shot with Wanda because she was his creation, essentially.
He'd possessed Quicksilver once before. But that was after Pietro died, and Chthon hijacked his body through a loophole.
Normally, Pietro would squash him like a bug.
But the other guy…
Old. Tired. Dead-eyed. Mentally checked out.
Perfect.
The scarlet light dove into his skull.
Bruce Banner staggered, clutching his head.
Something had just shoved its way into him.
Pietro noticed immediately.
"Hey! Dr. Banner, you good? You've been zoning out for a while. Why don't you rest? Our memories just came back. That means we're almost done here."
"I'm fine, Pietro," Bruce said, shaking his head. "Might just be low blood sugar. I should probably eat something."
"No problem. I'll grab you something from town. Be right back."
A flash of silver light. Gone.
Pietro didn't notice Banner's bowed head…
Or the crimson glow in his eyes.
Chaos Magic red.
Possession: successful.
"GET OUT."
"HULK DOESN'T LIKE YOU."
Suddenly, the red glow vanished—overpowered by a surge of emerald green.
Gamma fury.
Savage Hulk: Online.
And in the same moment, Hulk's Red Lantern Ring activated.
Big green hand, wrapped in Rage Light, grabbed Chthon's soul as it tried to crawl out of his mouth.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
Chthon panicked.
Inside this guy's soul were legions of monsters.
Every time he got punched, it hurt more.
Black Magic? Useless.
Chaos Magic? Blocked.
These weren't just personalities. They were hulks.
"STUPID BALL OF GAS! WHAT ARE YOU?! HULK HATES YOU!"
Hulk didn't even understand what this guy was.
He just knew: you don't barge into someone's house without knocking.
Even Hulk knew that.
He crushed Chthon's soul in his hand.
It wasn't fun. It wasn't shiny. So he tossed it away like a chewed-up action figure.
Chthon was thrilled.
After getting beaten senseless by 57 green meatheads, his soul was shredded.
But the toss had saved him!
Big idiots were still idiots!
They didn't even understand "finish the job."
But then...
He smacked into something solid.
A chest.
"Oh. Chthon. You were running pretty fast there."
Blood Butcher Dante.
"Dante?!"
"You almost got away. But you just had to pick the big guy, huh? Trying to possess him? What, did you mistake him for an emotional support puppy?"
Dante pinched Chthon's soul between two fingers like a wet sock.
"You're really weak now."
"So… who's the ant again?"
Without waiting for a reply, Dante opened his maw.
And fed Chthon's soul to Butcher.
With a few angry chomps and some muffled curses.
The god of the underworld, Chthon, was gone.
Consumed.
[Mission: Welcome to Fairytale Town– Completed]
(To be continued.)
***
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