"Thanks," Ra's Al Ghul said quietly, his voice hoarse as he looked toward Vandal Savage—the man who had saved him. It was Vandal who had intervened at the last moment, pulling Ra's from certain death.
He was also the one responsible for sending Klarion to assist him, though neither of them could have predicted the disaster that would follow. Klarion had been a Lord of Chaos, and yet even that power had meant nothing in the face of David.
"He's too powerful," Savage muttered, his usually steady tone carrying a rare trace of unease. His gaze was fixed on the live stream playing before him, showing David back at home, calmly cleaning up what remained of his damaged house. There was no arrogance in his movements, no sense of triumph..
David wasn't merely strong; he was overwhelming. The strongest being in the world, with no visible weaknesses, no flaws they could exploit. And to make matters worse, he wasn't motivated by greed or power—he acted out of something far more dangerous: the need to give meaning to his daughter's death.
Savage narrowed his eyes, his mind already racing, but deep down he knew the truth. Against a man like that… what could they possibly do… he had a few ideals, but he needed to wait to see more of David's power.
***
The Next Day
A bus came speeding down the street, its tires screeching as it swerved out of control. Inside, children screamed in terror, pressing against the windows as chaos unfolded around them. At the wheel sat the driver—his eyes vacant, skin gray and lifeless. He was no longer human. The man had turned into a zombie, his mouth stretched into a twisted grin as he laughed manically, forcing the bus forward at full speed.
The horrifying sight was being broadcast live around the world from a news helicopter hovering above. David watched the screen closely, his expression unreadable as the panic-filled scene unfolded before him. With a faint sigh, he extended his hand, using Blue to pull the hovering camera closer.
The next instant, he vanished.
Space folded in on itself, and David appeared directly in front of the speeding bus. The massive vehicle came hurtling toward him, but before it could make contact, it suddenly froze in place. The front of the bus hovered inches away from David, unmoving, the engine still roaring.
Oddly enough, none of the children inside were thrown forward or hurt. They sat frozen in shock, staring wide-eyed at the man who had stopped a speeding bus with nothing but his presence.
David raised his hand and pointed a single finger toward the bus. A concentrated spark of Blue flickered at his fingertip before it shot forward in a clean, precise line. The energy carved a perfect circle through the windshield, cutting so smoothly that the glass didn't even shatter. The beam continued through, striking the zombified driver and crushing his head instantly, ending the unnatural laughter that had filled the vehicle.
With the threat gone, David stepped forward and pressed his palm gently against the front of the bus. The massive vehicle still carried momentum, but David calmly began to walk backward. Every step he took drained the bus's speed, his strength forcing the weight of the vehicle to a crawl. After a few more steps, the bus finally came to a complete and silent stop.
Without hesitation, David teleported inside. Before he could even speak to reassure the children, they threw themselves at him, sobbing and trembling with relief. Their small hands clung to his coat and arms, desperate and thankful all at once. For the first time since the chaos began, their cries were no longer from fear—but from the overwhelming sense of safety that came with knowing they had been saved.
"Alright, calm down. Everyone, gather up. I'm going to teleport you all to the nearest police station," David said, motioning with his hand for the children to come closer. Slowly, the children obeyed, huddling together near the aisle as David prepared to move them to safety.
Meanwhile, those watching the live stream began to grow uneasy. Behind David, the zombified remains of the bus driver started to swell grotesquely, the body ballooning as if filled with gas. Panic filled the chat, countless viewers typing warnings that David never read.
But before the creature could detonate, David vanished, teleporting everyone inside the bus away. A split second later, the zombie burst apart, releasing a thick, greenish cloud of poisonous gas that spread across the wrecked street.
Moments later, David reappeared, standing beside the destroyed bus. The toxic air didn't bother him; he ignored it entirely as his sharp eyes swept over the scene. The ground and bus were coated in the twisted remains of the creature, its blackened flesh bubbling faintly. David crouched beside the mess, studying every trace with clinical focus, searching for any sign or clue that might reveal what had caused this.
"Magic?" David murmured under his breath, removing his blindfold to get a clearer look at what he was holding. Between his fingers was a small piece of the zombie's brain, faintly glowing with a residue of magical energy.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he studied it closely. For all his control over space and energy, tracking something tied to magic was a completely different problem. It wasn't something he could simply measure or bend to his will—it moved in ways logic couldn't grasp.
As he stood there considering how to trace the source, not to far away, a man well-known to those who followed the world of heroes—Zatara—a stage magician blessed with the rare ability to manipulate true magic. Unlike most performers who relied on illusions, his craft was real. He used it not just for entertainment but to fight crime and confront evil. Traveling the world alongside his daughter, Zatanna, the two performed dazzling shows that hid their true purpose: using their mastery of the mystic arts to protect others wherever they went.
"What's wrong?" Zatara asked, as he adjusted his magician's coat, readying himself for the evening's performance. His attention shifted to his daughter, who stood nearby, staring at her phone with a disgusted expression.
"David's stream," Zatanna said softly, her voice carrying a mix of unease and disbelief. "Some zombie just blew up. He thinks it's magic-related." She held the phone up, showing her father the live feed of David kneeling by the remains, analyzing the scene with that calm, analytical look.
Zatara's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched. He nodded once, thoughtful but visibly concerned, a faint frown forming as several possibilities ran through his mind. He knew of a few individuals with the ability to raise the dead as undead—powerful, dangerous beings who tampered with forces that shouldn't be disturbed. If David was right, and magic was involved, then this was no ordinary incident.
Zatara joined his daughter, and together they continued watching the live stream. Their expressions shifted between disbelief and mild disgust as David, crouched among the mangled remains, leaned in close and began sniffing them.
To everyone, it looked absurd—like a predator trying to catch a scent. But David didn't seem to care about appearances. He stood, climbed onto the roof of the wrecked school bus, and tilted his head slightly, inhaling deeply as if the very air could tell him where to go next.
After a few long seconds of stillness, he suddenly vanished. Space folded around him, and in the blink of an eye, David reappeared miles away, deep within a forest blanketed by thick fog. The mist hung heavy, swirling between gnarled trees that blotted out the light. Visibility was nearly impossible, but that didn't matter—David could see everything.
Through the haze, faint figures moved—shadows of the undead, dozens of them shuffling within the fog, surrounding the area like a silent army. As David descended from the air, the ground darkened beneath him. His calm expression shifted into a curious look as his gaze fixed ahead.
There, standing amidst the dense fog, was a pale, unsettling man with a twisted grin slowly spreading across his face. The stranger turned toward David, a creepy grin on its face as it looked at David.
"What are you supposed to be? Joker from Temu?" David asked, his voice calm but laced with quiet mockery.
The man grinned, his face twisted and uneven, the expression sitting somewhere between amusement and madness. "Oh, my boy David, you have truly got in my way for the last time," the creepy, disfigured man said, his tone sharp with anger even as that eerie smile stayed fixed on his lips.
David frowned at him for a moment, lost in his own thoughts for a second. Then, as if something clicked in his mind, he gave a small nod of understanding. "You brought people who were trafficked, and those kids were taken because your supplies had slowed?" David asked, one eyebrow raised in quiet accusation.
The man waved his hand, casting a spell, a glow forming in his palm before a beam shot forward toward David—only for it to halt abruptly, suspended in midair just before reaching him.
"You're no Klarion… and even he could only touch me because I allowed him. So, what's your plan?" David asked mockingly, his tone sharp and calm all at once.