After Mr. Parody's mental tendrils penetrated Adrian's consciousness, he immediately sensed something unusual.
His Parody magic worked by reciting spells in reverse—twisting ordinary words into reality-bending incantations. For example, "unlock" would be spoken as "lock open" so that the spell's effect would manifest. This inversion functions as a disguise, a misdirection, allowing the caster to mask the source of the magic from its true owners. These owners dwell in the abyss, in the dark realms beyond mortal comprehension—entities even Parody fears to regard directly.
But within Adrian's mind, Parody encountered something far darker than he expected: a mental realm far beyond ordinary boundaries, immense and infinite in scope. Hidden presences devoured his probing energy. In the infinite void, cold blue mists swirled. A black, ghostly Gotham City emerged, swallowed by unending darkness. From the void, a monstrous winged figure—resembling a darker Batman—flew by. The name "Barbatos" whispered in the abyss. He glimpsed monstrous octopuses, distorted mermaids, and more. Deeper still, he felt the stirring presence of those eldritch creators—powers beyond understanding.
Had he been discovered?
Parody's heart thundered. Though notable in magical circles, he had never seen a mental domain so bizarre. He had considered Constantine's mind the most dangerous, but compared to Adrian, Constantine's was tame. Adrian was not just a powerful being—he was pure terror incarnate.
Parody instantly abandoned any hope of mental control. His only goal became escape. Though he had infiltrated much of Adrian's psyche, in the real world only a moment had passed.
Outside, his wand hovered, frozen mid-motion. Adrian seized the opportunity. He tore free from Parody's rope-like bindings and gripped Parody's throat. Lightning crackled around the mage, but Adrian's hold prevented speech or incantation.
Parody gasped, sweat pouring, his mental reserves drained. With a final surge of will he fled Adrian's mindscape and snapped back to reality. His throat burned; his vocal cords muted. Adrian's eyes glowed crimson, sending twin beams of destructive energy into Parody's face. The mage's protective barrier—built of lightning and arcane energy—dimmed.
Parody, desperate, forced all remaining power into holding his borrowed forbidden magic in check. But Adrian's heat vision advanced, intensifying. Adrian's right fist slammed into Parody's chest. The blue aura and energy bolts around him flickered and died. The final barrier shattered, and Parody hurtled backward. Through magic, Adrian redirected his heat vision to Parody's arm—and in an instant the arm was severed. Blood sprayed, agony ripped through Parody.
Parody moaned, choking, and tried to heal himself with spells. But the wound was grave, and his will to fight decayed. He had never meant this to escalate like this. He had no real alliance with the Owl Council—only a forced bargain over a Black Magic tome. He had expected a simple job, not a battle against a being stronger than Superman.
Clinging to life, Parody whispered a spell, weaving a barrier to shield himself. He summoned a teleportation portal. As the portal shimmered open, he slipped away from the battlefield.
Meanwhile, in a modest apartment far from the maze, Zatanna was dressed in her father's stage magicians' costume, practicing a transformation spell she'd just learned. Suddenly the teleport portal tore open in her room. Parody stumbled through, clutching his bleeding stump. Zatanna's eyes widened in shock. She ran forward to support him.
"Father?!" she cried.
"Do not speak, Zatanna," he rasped. He was pale, his face twisted in pain. With his wand he closed the portal.
Zatanna's gaze flickered toward the other side—she saw a figure wearing an Owl mask, crimson eyes burning with menace. Her jaw clenched. You will pay for this, she vowed silently.
Back at the Owl Council's labyrinth, Adrian watched as Parody vanished through the portal, then withdrew his heat vision. His chest heaved with exertion. He turned to the ruins and found Clark kneeling, gasping for breath. The magical lightning that had struck him had both paralyzed and drained him. He was not fully recovered.
"Clark… you never cease to surprise me," Adrian said softly, voice low but edged with complexity.
Clark swallowed, pulling himself upright. "I lied," he admitted. "You told me to go back to the farm. Did Father not say that, when necessary, we may bend the truth?" He glanced toward the direction Parody had escaped. "I never expected to see anything like that. Was that… real magic?"
"You'll see more," Adrian replied. His tone held both promise and warning. "But for now, you need rest. Go home."
Before more could be said, the Owl Council's chambers echoed with commotion and hurried footsteps. Their presence loomed closer.
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