The cracked vinyl seat groaned under the weight of a man named Elias Finch. He scratched at the nicotine stain on his coffee-stained t-shirt, staring blankly at the peeling wallpaper across the cramped apartment. A half-eaten microwave burrito sat cold on the chipped laminate countertop beside him. "Another Tuesday," he muttered to the overflowing ashtray. The fluorescent light above flickered, casting long shadows that made the room feel smaller.
Outside, the distant wail of sirens cut through the humid night air. Elias pushed himself up with a grunt, joints protesting. He shuffled toward the window, ignoring the sticky floor tiles under his bare feet. Through grime-streaked glass, he watched flickering neon signs paint the alley below in garish pinks and greens. Someone shouted obscenities from a fire escape two buildings over. "City's loud tonight," he remarked to no one, rubbing his temple where a headache pulsed.
A sudden metallic clang echoed from the kitchenette. Elias turned just as his rusty faucet handle snapped clean off in his hand. Water gushed violently, spraying his threadbare sweatpants. "God damn it!" He fumbled for the valve beneath the sink, soaked and cursing. His fingers slipped on the wet metal. Cold water soaked through fabric, chilling his skin. He tasted copper panic on his tongue.
As the leak pooled around his ankles, Elias gripped the useless handle tighter. "Fine," he spat through gritted teeth. "Fix it yourself, you useless piece of–"
SUMMARY^1: Elias Finch, in his decrepit apartment, observed the depressing mundanity of his Tuesday night. After hearing distant sirens and noting the city's noise, a sudden plumbing disaster occurred when his faucet handle broke, flooding his kitchenette. Frustrated and soaked, he angrily addressed the broken fixture.
Then everything went black.
Not the soft fade of exhaustion, but a sudden, violent snuffing—like a candle plunged into oil. Elias blinked, expecting the cramped kitchenette, the spray of freezing water, the ache in his knees. Instead, he stood bathed in sterile, sourceless light. The screech of dripping pipes replaced by a resonant, metallic hum that vibrated in his teeth. Gone was the smell of mildew and stale smoke; the air hung thick and scentless, pressing against his skin like plastic wrap.
A grid of shimmering blue text materialized inches from his face, scrolling upwards with impossible speed. Fragments burned into his retinas: **SUPERMAN: METROPOLIS BREACH... BATMAN: ARKHAM PROTOCOL DELTA... PARADEMON SWARM CONTAINMENT FAILURE...** The words pulsed with urgency before dissolving into streams of alien symbols and shifting star-charts. A calm, synthetic voice echoed inside his skull, devoid of inflection yet impossibly loud: **CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSFER COMPLETE. USER: ELIAS FINCH. DESIGNATION: PLANET EARTH-PRIME. PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: AURA HARVEST INITIATED.**
Panic flared hot and sharp. Elias instinctively tried to recoil, but his body felt alien—lighter, denser, acutely aware of every heartbeat hammering against his ribs. The light intensified, etching the strangest sensation onto his nerves: a phantom pressure growing beneath his sternum, warm and coiled, like a sunbeam trapped behind glass. It pulsed once, a soft throb that resonated outward, and a new line of text flared crimson: **[AURA RESERVOIR: 0.1% CAPACITY].** The synthetic voice returned, colder: **SOURCE: MINOR EMOTIONAL SPIKE (PANIC/ANGER). EFFICIENCY: POOR. VERBALIZATION REQUIRED FOR OPTIMAL CONDUIT STABILITY.**
A jagged crack split the sterile expanse above him. Through it, Elias saw a fractured glimpse of a nightmare: a sky choked by swirling, insectoid shapes blotting out the sun; jagged spires of alien architecture piercing crumbling Gotham brownstones; a streak of red and blue plasma tearing through the swarm, trailing screams that weren't entirely human. The view shifted violently, showing a rain-slicked alleyway—his alleyway—but distorted. A chrome-and-neon armored figure, faceless and radiating menace, crushed a dumpster with one clawed hand, scanning the shadows. The pressure inside Elias surged violently. The grid flickered urgently: **[PROXIMITY ALERT: THREAT DETECTED].**
"Get me out!" The words ripped from Elias's throat, raw and cracked, echoing unnervingly in the featureless void. Immediately, the phantom warmth behind his sternum flared, sharp and electric. It wasn't comforting; it felt like a live wire shoved under his skin. The crimson text flashed brighter: **[AURA RESERVOIR: 0.3%]. SOURCE: VERBALIZED FEAR/DEMAND. EFFICIENCY: ACCEPTABLE. SUSTAIN VOCALIZATION FOR CONDUIT STABILITY.]** *Verbalized?* He stared dumbly at the shimmering words. Talking made the weird pressure *stronger*? Talking scared got him... *points*? "What the hell is this?" he rasped, the warmth pulsing again, softer this time. **[AURA RESERVOIR: 0.4%]. SOURCE: VERBALIZED CONFUSION/INQUIRY.]**
He instinctively clutched his chest where the warmth coiled. It reacted, shifting subtly, a low thrum answering his touch like a startled animal. The sterile light dimmed slightly, revealing faint geometric patterns etched into the nothingness beneath his bare, grime-free feet. Where were his sweatpants? Where was the *water*? Conflicting sensory ghosts assaulted him—the phantom chill of the kitchen flood still clung to his ankles, yet the air here was utterly dry and silent except for the metallic hum vibrating his molars. The blue grid pulsed insistently: **PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: INITIATE AURA HARVEST. VERBALIZE COMMAND.** Command? Command *what*? "Show me... show me where I am!" he demanded, forcing the words out. The warmth surged eagerly. **[AURA RESERVOIR: 0.5%].**
The fractured sky-scene vanished. The grid dissolved into a dizzying, three-dimensional map materializing around him. Gotham City, but impossibly layered—a translucent schematic overlay showing sewer tunnels below Wayne Tower, glowing power conduits snaking beneath Park Row, and pulsing red dots labeled **\[PARADEMON SCANNER\]** drifting like malevolent fireflies above Robinson Park. One dot blinked rapidly, terrifyingly close. The chrome-armored figure was directly below his apartment building's schematic representation, its icon radiating jagged yellow spikes. A thin strand of warm light, emanating from his own glowing dot on the map, pulsed faintly towards the armored figure's icon. **\[AURA HARVESTING: MINIMAL FEED (THREAT PROXIMITY)\].** Elias felt the faintest pull, like the tug of a weak magnet, originating from that chrome horror outside his nonexistent door. Talking built the power inside him. Facing *that*... fed it? He swallowed bile. "Okay, system," he muttered, tasting the absurdity. "What's step two?"
A sharp, synthetic ***BEEP*** cut through the humming void. Elias flinched. Directly below the holographic Gotham map, space itself seemed to tear open – not violently like the sky-view before, but with a clean, surgical incision. Through this foot-long vertical slit in the air fell a single object. It landed silently on the illuminated geometric patterns beneath his feet, gleaming under the sterile light. It was a Katana. Not ornate or ceremonial, but brutally functional. Sleek black lacquer sheath, bound tightly with worn, dark cord. The exposed handle was simple, unadorned polished wood, slightly curved. It radiated a palpable sense of lethal stillness. Elias stared, dumbfounded. The system grid flared beside it: **\\\[PRIMORDIAL HARVEST TOOL DEPLOYED: TYPE-77 'SHADOW FANG' KATANA. AURA SYNCHRONIZATION REQUIRED. VERBALIZE EQUIPMENT ACKNOWLEDGEMENT\\\].**
Hesitantly, his fingers trembling slightly, Elias reached out. The phantom warmth in his chest fluttered nervously as his hand closed around the cool, smooth wood of the hilt. It felt unnaturally balanced, lighter than he expected yet dense with potential energy. He could feel minute vibrations thrumming through the grip, resonating with the coiled warmth inside him. A faint blue light pulsed faintly along the seam where the blade met the sheath. "Alright," he whispered, more to himself than the system. "Katana. Got it." **[AURA RESERVOIR: 0.6%]. SOURCE: VERBALIZED ACKNOWLEDGEMENT. SYNCHRONIZATION INITIATED.]** The vibration in the hilt intensified, humming in time with his own heartbeat. The pull of warmth intensified, subtly shifting direction—no longer passively drawing energy from the distant threat, but actively *focusing* towards the blade, like iron filings aligning to a magnet. He felt suddenly, acutely aware of the chrome figure moving restlessly in the alley schematic below.
A new, urgent crimson alert flashed across the Gotham map overlay: **\\\[THREAT ESCALATION: LEVEL 2 ARMOR DETECTED. HEAT SIGNATURE RISING. PARADEMON SCANNER ACTIVATING TARGETING PROTOCOLS\\\].** The chrome-armored icon pulsed violently, jagged yellow spikes lengthening towards Elias's position on the map. Below the map, Elias saw the schematic of his alley distort – the armored figure raising one clawed hand towards the dumpster Elias knew usually sat beneath his fire escape. Through the faintly glowing lines of the map, he could almost *feel* the crushing pressure building in the claws like gathering storm clouds. Instinct screamed at him to hide, but the warmth beneath his sternum coiled tighter, vibrating sharply as it synced with the katana's hilt. It demanded action. It demanded *words*. "Status!" Elias barked, the command ripped raw from his throat.
Immediately, the complex Gotham schematic shrank away, replaced by a stark, minimalist panel hovering before him. Three distinct sections glowed: **\\\[STATUS: ELIAS FINCH\\\]** displayed a shimmering bar labeled **AURA RESERVOIR: 0.7%**, pulsing faintly orange. Below it, **ATTRIBUTES:** flickered with entries like **REACTION SPEED: BASELINE HUMAN**, **STRENGTH: BELOW AVERAGE**, **AURA CONDUIT STABILITY: LOW**. To the right, a vibrant, almost garish wheel dominated half the panel – the **HARVEST GACHA**. It was segmented into tiers glowing faintly grey, bronze, silver, gold, and a piercingly bright crimson sliver labeled **PRIMORDIAL**. A flashing prompt hovered above it: **HARVEST REWARDS TIER SCALED TO CURRENT AURA RESERVOIR LEVEL**. Before he could decipher it further, another section blazed into existence below the Gacha wheel: **\\\[PRIMARY MISSION INITIATED: NEW DAWN FOR THE NEW 52\\\]**. The text scrolled: **ARRIVAL CONFIRMED: NEW 52 ERA. OBJECTIVE: ASSIST THE NEWLY FORMED JUSTICE LEAGUE IN REPELLING DARKSIED'S FORCES FROM EARTH-PRIME. IMMEDIATE SUB-OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE SCANNER. REWARDS UPON COMPLETION: ONE FOR ALL QUIRK, BLACKLIGHT VIRUS PROTOCOL, OR A RANDOM DEVIL FRUIT.** Elias gaped. Devil Fruit? Justice League? The names landed like physical blows. This wasn't just *a* DC universe. It was a rebooted, chaotic one.
The warmth flared violently, synchronizing with the urgent thrum of the katana's hilt. The chrome figure schematic finished its targeting sequence. **\\\[PARADEMON SCANNER FIRING SOLUTION LOCKED\\\]** flashed crimson. The armored icon lunged upwards on the map – straight towards his schematic position. Reality itself groaned. The sterile void fractured around Elias's feet, geometric patterns dissolving into swirling dark mist. He glimpsed cracked linoleum tiles beneath his bare soles, heard the phantom roar of water spraying, smelled ozone and scorched metal. He was being pulled back. Back to the flooded kitchenette. Back to death. The chrome hunter was coming *for him*. Panic surged, cold and paralyzing. The Gacha wheel flickered mockingly grey. His stats screamed **BELOW AVERAGE**. The mission blared **SURVIVE**. The katana vibrated, demanding synchronization. "Not like this!" Elias snarled, gripping the hilt tighter, the words forced out past clenching teeth. The phantom warmth ignited into a searing cord connecting his chest to the blade. **\\\[AURA RESERVOIR: 0.9%\\\]**. **\\\[SYNCHRONIZATION: STABILIZING\\\]**. He braced, the sterile light collapsing into the chaotic spill of his flooded apartment reality reforming around him. Cold water slapped his ankles. The chrome horror would be outside his door. He had seconds. Words weren't enough anymore. He needed to *do* something impossibly, terrifyingly cool.
A sharp, melodious ***TING!*** pierced the chaotic spill of reforming sounds – dripping water, his ragged breath, the distant groan of stressed city pipes. It echoed, pure and unexpected, like a temple bell struck once in the midst of a battlefield. Elias blinked water from his eyes. Directly above him, hovering where the fluorescent light had flickered moments ago, floated a shimmering orb of soft golden light. It pulsed once, warmly, bathing the cramped kitchenette in a sudden, comforting glow that felt utterly alien to the grime and panic. Then, a voice emanated from it – not the cold, synthetic command of the system, but gentle, resonant, and almost maternal: ***"Welcome, New Player. Reality Stage: Initialising. Arrival: Complete."*** The golden orb emitted a soft chime sequence – five descending notes, like raindrops falling on tuned crystal. It felt profoundly incongruous. Welcoming. Final. It wasn't explaining. It was *declaring*. His arrival was irrevocable. The katana hummed louder in his grasp, resonating with the chime. The chrome hunter was at the door.
The golden orb dissolved silently into motes of light that drifted downwards. As they touched the pooling water around Elias's ankles, the liquid ceased its chaotic splash against the cabinets. Instead, it flowed with unnatural, smooth precision, tracing intricate, glowing geometric patterns across the grimy floor tiles – extensions of the void's patterns. Elias felt a sudden, sharp clarity slice through his panic. The chrome hunter. The challenge. This *was* a stage. His stage. He was Elias Finch, reborn. He gripped the katana, feeling its lethal balance, its synchronised vibration humming with the coiled warmth now blazing fiercely beneath his ribs – not just panic, but anticipation. This wasn't his old life. This was New. The door handle rattled violently. Metal screamed as something started peeling the cheap steel frame apart like tinfoil. The scanner was entering. Elias raised the katana, the cool wood slick under his fingers. He didn't just need to speak. He needed to *perform*. "Alright," he whispered, the words thick with adrenaline, tasting the copper tang again. "Let's see what this New 52 dawn *really* costs." He centred his stance amidst the glowing water patterns, facing the buckling door. The Gacha wheel glowed bronze on his peripheral status panel. Survival wasn't the goal. Survival *with style* was. The chrome claws ripped through the mangled metal.
The door buckled inward with a shriek of tortured steel. Through the jagged opening, the chrome hunter filled the frame. Its faceless helm scanned the room, pulsing with a sickly red light. Elias stood perfectly still amidst the glowing water patterns, the katana held low at his side, blade angled backwards. The chrome hunter paused, its scanner beam flicking over him – assessing the threadbare clothes, the soaked sweatpants, the trembling figure clutching a simple blade. **\\\[THREAT ASSESSMENT: LOW\\\]** Elias saw the words flash on its chest plate. The hunter took a heavy, metallic step inside, its clawed foot splashing into the glowing water. Elias inhaled sharply, filling his lungs with the damp, ozone-charged air. He focused on the coiled warmth. On the katana's hum. On the sheer, terrifying *audacity* of this moment. He didn't charge. He didn't scream. He spoke, his voice low, steady, and carrying an unnatural resonance in the cramped space: "Wrong assessment." He flicked the katana upwards in a blindingly fast arc, not towards the hunter, but slicing cleanly through the jet of water still spraying from the broken faucet. The water jet didn't sputter. It froze mid-air for a fraction of a second, catching the sterile overhead light like a captured lightning bolt. Then it *shattered* into a thousand glittering droplets, suspended perfectly around Elias like a halo of liquid diamonds. **\\\[AURA RESERVOIR: 1.7%\\\]**. **\\\[SOURCE: VERBALIZED DEFIANCE / AESTHETIC MANIPULATION (H2O PHASE SHIFT)\\\]**. The chrome hunter froze. Its scanner beam flickered wildly. Elias grinned, sharp and deadly beneath the sparkling rain. The stage was set. The audience was stunned. The show had just begun.
The chrome hunter's hesitation lasted less than a heartbeat. Its scanner beam pulsed crimson, locking onto Elias. Its jagged claws swung back, gathering crushing force. Elias didn't wait. He sprang forward, not with desperation, but with a fluid, predatory grace that surprised even him. The katana wasn't a weapon; it felt like an extension of his arm, humming with the thrumming warmth in his chest. He ducked under the clumsy, whistling arc of armored claws that gouged plaster from the wall behind him. The smell of scorched metal filled his nostrils. The hunter lunged forward, its massive frame filling the cramped kitchenette, blocking the exit. Elias saw his opening: the joint between the hunter's upper arm and shoulder armor. It glowed faintly under his heightened awareness. He pivoted on his wet heel, water spraying in a synchronized arc that mirrored his own movement. "Showtime!" he snarled, putting his entire body into a single, focused draw-cut. The katana flashed – a streak of silver against chrome – biting deep into the glowing seam. Metal screamed. Sparks exploded, stinging Elias's cheek. The blade met resistance, jarring his arm, then sliced through with a sickening, wet crunch. The chrome hunter's scanner beam flickered violently. Its severed right forearm, claws still twitching, crashed onto the flooded floor with a heavy splash. Thick, viscous black oil sprayed across the cabinets and Elias's shirt. **[AURA RESERVOIR: 4.2%]**. **[SOURCE: COMBAT EXECUTION / VERBALIZED CONFIDENCE / TARGETED VULNERABILITY EXPLOIT]**.
Silence crashed down, broken only by the hunter's damaged servo-arm whining like a dying insect and the rhythmic drip of black oil mixing with water. Elias stood panting, the Katana held steady, dripping dark ichor onto the glowing geometric patterns. Adrenaline roared in his ears, mixing with the fierce symphony of the system notifications: **[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED: PRECISION STRIKE (BASIC)]**. **[AURA HARVESTING: SIGNIFICANT FEED (THREAT WEAKENED)]**. The phantom warmth pulsed stronger, almost painfully hot now, feeding directly from the hunter's crippled presence. He could *feel* its agony prickling across his skin. The chrome hunter staggered back a step, its remaining claw twitching erratically. It didn't roar. It didn't rage. It emitted a series of high-pitched, synthesized clicks – panicked, confused, utterly alien. Its scanner beam flitted wildly from its severed stump to Elias, no longer broadcasting **[THREAT ASSESSMENT: LOW]**, but a frantic, pulsing **[ERROR]**. Elias tasted the acrid tang of ozone and oil on his tongue. He adjusted his grip on the katana's slippery hilt. The hunter wasn't dead. It was cornered. Wounded. Dangerous.
The chrome hunter's remaining claw snapped up, not towards Elias, but towards its own helm. Red light pulsed violently beneath the chrome plating. A high-pitched whine built, vibrating the pooling water around its feet. **[WARNING: EMERGENCY BEACON ACTIVATION]** flashed crimson across Elias's vision. The hunter wasn't attacking. It was calling for backup. Elias felt the phantom warmth within him surge violently, desperately pushing towards the katana. The Hunter Gacha wheel flickered bronze on his periphery, tantalizingly close. He couldn't let it signal. He needed to finish this. Not just survive. Finish *coolly*. "Silence," Elias commanded, his voice echoing strangely in the confined space. He lunged forward again, not with brute force, but a deceptive, flowing step that carried him past the claw aimed at the helm. He reversed his grip mid-stride, plunging the katana tip-first, not into armor, but into the gap beneath the hunter's jawline, angled upwards towards its optical sensor cluster. The blade slid home with a wet, grating sound. The high-pitched whine choked into a gurgle. The crimson light beneath its helm sputtered and died. The hunter froze, then collapsed backwards like a puppet with its strings cut, crashing onto the flooded tiles with a final splash, its silent scream echoing only in the sudden, ringing quiet of the ruined kitchen. **[AURA RESERVOIR: 8.1%]**. **[PRIMARY SUB-OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE THE SCANNER: COMPLETE]**. The bronze Gacha wheel began to spin.
Elias staggered back, gasping, the phantom warmth now a roaring furnace beneath his sternum. It wasn't fatigue; it was exhilaration mixed with the lingering ozone stench and the coppery taste of adrenaline. He leaned heavily against the dripping countertop, the katana slick with viscous black oil trembling slightly in his hand. Pain flared sharply in his left forearm – a deep gash where the hunter's thrashing claw had scraped chrome plating across his skin during his lunge. Blood mingled with oil and water. Before he could even register the wound fully, a soft *pling!* sounded near his feet. He looked down. Lying amidst the swirling geometric patterns of glowing water and oil, right beside the dead hunter's mangled helm, was a small, cork-stoppered vial. It shimmered with a soft, internal crimson light, casting warm reflections on the grimy floor tiles.
The system grid flared softly above Elias's head: **\[HARVEST REWARD: TIER BRONZE ACQUIRED\]**. Below it, a simple line of pragmatic text scrolled: ***Small Heath Potion.*** *Useful for small injuries and broken bones.* A faint, reassuring *ding!* echoed in his skull, softer than the previous metallic tones. Elias stared at the vial. It looked absurdly mundane against the chrome corpse and the glowing floor patterns. Small injuries? Broken bones? The promise felt jarringly practical after the visceral violence. He knelt, wincing as the movement tugged at his bleeding arm, and gingerly picked up the vial. It felt warm to the touch, the crimson liquid swirling hypnotically inside thick, green-tinged glass. He uncorked it cautiously. The scent that wafted out wasn't medicinal or herbal; it smelled like ozone after lightning strikes mixed with damp earth and something faintly metallic – the scent of charged potential. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, remembering the absurdity of talking to build power, plunging a blade into an alien scout. What was a strange potion? He tipped the vial back and swallowed the contents in one gulp.
The effect was instantaneous, profound, and utterly bizarre. It tasted like liquid static – fizzy and crackling on his tongue – followed by a wave of intense warmth spreading from his throat down his esophagus. It didn't soothe; it *accelerated*. Elias gasped as he felt the torn flesh on his forearm prickle violently, then knit itself together with visible speed. Skin pulled taut, capillaries wove shut, leaving behind a thin, silvery scar just moments after the viscous crimson liquid vanished down his throat. The deep ache vanished, replaced by a bone-deep tingling sensation, as if his skeleton had been briefly electrified. Simultaneously, the roaring furnace of aura within him surged violently, its heat intensifying until it felt less like contained fire and more like a miniature star igniting behind his ribs. **\[AURA RESERVOIR: 12.3%\]**. **\[SECONDARY EFFECT: MINOR PHYSICAL REJUVENATION\]**. Elias straightened up, flexing his arm, feeling no pain, only the impossible, coiled power humming within him and the katana still resonating in his hand. He looked down at the chrome corpse, then at the glowing patterns fading from the flooding floor. Survival was done. Bronze tier delivered. Now he needed a plan, and fast. That beacon might not have activated, but Gotham was crawling with worse than scanners. The Justice League was fighting a war out there. Elias Finch, reborn with a system demanding spectacle, was just getting started. He kicked the hunter's severed claw aside, its chrome scraping harshly against the tile. "Alright," he murmured, scanning the shattered doorway leading to the dark hallway beyond, his voice steadier, colder than before. "What's next?" The Gacha wheel pulsed bronze, hinting at untold possibilities. The New 52 dawn awaited its newest, strangest player.
A sharp, melodic ***DING!*** rang out, distinct from the previous metallic tones – clearer, brighter, like a crystal bell struck once. Elias flinched, instinctively raising the katana as the air before him shimmered violently. The cramped, ruined kitchenette abruptly dissolved, replaced not by the sterile void, but by a starkly detailed holographic projection hovering directly at eye level. It wasn't Gotham's layered schematic this time; it was a dynamic, zoomed-in map focusing on a single, crumbling structure nestled within Gotham Harbor, its jagged silhouette unmistakable even smothered in pixelated storm clouds: Arkham Asylum. Tiny icons pulsed urgently: a stylized green lantern symbol flickered erratically near the main gate, engaged in a chaotic dance of light against swarming red dots labeled **\\\[PARADEMON SWARM DELTA\\\]**. Simultaneously, a stark black bat-icon materialized deeper inside, moving with unnerving precision towards a pulsating crimson marker labeled **\\\[CENTRAL CONTROL NODE\\\]**. Their paths weren't converging; they were orbiting each other like wary predators unaware they hunted the same prey. A brilliant golden line flashed momentarily, connecting the distant lantern symbol to the advancing bat-icon. **\\\[SUBMISSION ACQUIRED: 'FIRST CONTACT'\\\]**. The resonant system voice returned, infused with a subtle undertone of urgency, bypassing Elias's ears and vibrating directly within his skull: ***"Primary Directive Reinforced. Sub-Mission Acquired: Facilitate Convergence Point Alpha. Location: Arkham Asylum, West Wing Rooftop. Targets: Green Lantern Sector 2814 Designate - Hal Jordan. Gotham Vigilante Designate - Batman. Rewards Upon Successful Facilitation: Basic Martial Arts Proficiency Scroll. Fire Release: Fireball Jutsu Scroll (Ninja Arts Origin - Konohagakure). Priority: HIGH. Threat Environment: EXTREME."***
Elias stared, dumbstruck. Meet Batman? And Green Lantern? *Facilitate* their first meeting? The absurdity slammed into him harder than the hunter's claw. He was Elias Finch, a guy who half an hour ago was yelling at a broken faucet, now holding a glowing katana, standing over an alien corpse, and being ordered to play cosmic matchmaker for two of the most dangerous beings on the planet during an apocalypse. The rewards mocked him – ninja fireballs? Basic fisticuffs? Against Parademon swarms and whatever horrors Arkham was vomiting out? Yet, beneath the disbelief, the phantom warmth flared again. It wasn't panic anymore. It was challenge. It was *opportunity*. Facilitating wasn't hiding. It was inserting himself center-stage into the origin story of the Justice League. The sheer, suicidal *coolness* of it resonated with the humming power in his chest and the blade. A manic grin tugged at his lips. "First Contact, huh?" he muttered, his gaze locked on the converging bat and lantern icons. "Alright, System. Guess I'm playing chaperone to the dawn of the damned." He tightened his grip on the Shadow Fang, feeling its lethal balance sync with the burgeoning aura star within him. **\\\[AURA RESERVOIR: 12.5%\\\]**. **\\\[SYNCHRONIZATION STABLE\\\]**. Arkham awaited. The stage was infinitely larger now. Time to crash the party.
The holographic map flickered, dissolving Arkham's bulk to overlay his immediate surroundings. A pulsing green path materialized, snaking out of his ruined apartment door, down the grimy hallway stairs choked with debris, and vanishing into the Gotham night through a shattered ground-floor window framing a sky choked with alien warships and distant explosions. The crimson dots representing nearby Parademon patrols intensified their pulsing rhythm. **\\\[OPTIMAL ROUTE CALCULATED\\\]**, the system intoned coolly. ***"Estimated Travel Time: 17 Minutes. Current Threat Level En Route: SEVERE. Recommend: STEALTH MODE or SPECTACLE MODE. Choose."*** Elias didn't hesitate. Stealth meant hiding, skulking. Spectacle meant *playing*. It meant feeding the hungry star inside him. It meant harvesting aura where Parademons fell. He glanced at the bronze Gacha wheel, pulsing faintly beside the map. Ninja fireballs… they sounded suspiciously like *spectacle*. He adjusted his stance, katana held low and ready, the faint blue seam-light along the blade flaring slightly brighter. "Spectacle," Elias declared, his voice cutting through the dripping water and distant sirens. The phantom warmth surged violently outward, wrapping around him like an invisible, charged cloak. The map path flashed crimson. **\\\[MODE SELECTED: SPECTACLE\\\]**. ***"Commence Harvest."***