Chapter 52

Dark Alessa stood amidst the ruins of Silent Hill, watching Valkus vanish into the real world. A cold smirk played across her lips as she sensed his overwhelming hatred, frustration, and fear. He had escaped, but it mattered little. The seeds of his torment had been sown, and that was more than enough to satisfy her—for now.

She tilted her head, her glowing yellow eyes reflecting the dim, unnatural light of the fog-shrouded town. Valkus had been strong, but in the end, he was a coward, running away like all the others. He wasn't worthy.

Turning away, she exhaled softly, feeling exhaustion tug at her form. She needed rest. Even with her vast power, she had exerted herself far more than intended. But it had been worth it—watching Valkus flail helplessly against the inevitable, seeing him reduced to a desperate, frightened wretch.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "How pitiful."

She raised her gaze to the Yellow Emperor, who stood silently, his massive form still pulsating with the energy of his victory. His grotesque features twisted into something that resembled a smile, though it was unclear whether it was amusement or something more sinister.

Dark Alessa stepped forward, her bare feet gliding over the broken asphalt without making a sound. The flickering remnants of the battle still crackled in the air, but she ignored them. Instead, she extended a hand toward the lingering soul fragments of the fallen—the remnants of Zatara, the Executioner, and other lesser beings who had perished in the chaos.

Their spirits shuddered, hovering in the air like flickering candle flames, awaiting their final fate.

A pulse of dark energy emanated from Alessa's fingertips, and the souls were pulled into her grasp, vanishing into the abyss of her being.

She felt them merge into her existence, their memories, suffering, and emotions becoming another layer of the endless torment that fueled her. More pain. More power.

Yet, one remained.

Amidst the swirling spirits, one presence refused to fade.

Sadako

Her broken, spectral form trembled, barely holding itself together after the brutal battle against the Yellow Emperor. Her shadowed eyes flickered with something unreadable—perhaps fear, rage, or defiance. She had been on the verge of being consumed, but Valkus's interference had spared her at the last moment.

Now, she was weak. Vulnerable.

Dark Alessa studied her with curiosity, stepping closer.

"Interesting..." Alessa murmured, her voice carrying an unnatural echo.

Sadako's cursed existence had always revolved around devouring souls, feeding on those unfortunate enough to cross her path. She was a predator. Yet, she had almost been prey to the Yellow Emperor.

That amused Alessa greatly.

A cruel smile touched her lips as she tilted her head, inspecting the broken spirit before her.

"You lost," she whispered, her voice taunting.

Sadako did not respond—she simply stared, her spectral body flickering as if she was resisting the pull of oblivion.

Alessa's smile widened. She liked this one.

"Serve me," Alessa commanded, her voice carrying a weight that crushed the very air around them.

Sadako tensed, her ethereal form flickering violently. She had never served anyone—she had always been the curse, the unstoppable force of vengeance. Yet, before Dark Alessa, she was powerless.

The choice was not hers to make.

A shadow coiled around Sadako's ghostly form, binding her, forcing her essence to kneel before Alessa.

The spirit shuddered, her form darkening, her presence becoming twisted. Silent Hill's power seeped into her very being, reshaping her, branding her as something more than just a vengeful ghost.

Sadako's piercing wail echoed through the ruined town, but this was no cry of suffering. It was a rebirth.

When the scream died down, Sadako stood anew, her shadowy form infused with the nightmare essence of Silent Hill.

She no longer belonged to herself.

She belonged to Dark Alessa.

Alessa watched in satisfaction as Sadako's head twisted unnaturally, her new form oozing with the same malevolent energy that shaped the town itself.

"You'll do nicely," she whispered, a pleased expression on her face.

The Yellow Emperor stood at Alessa's side, watching the scene unfold. His tentacles twitched, sensing the shift in power. Silent Hill had claimed another soul.

Dark Alessa turned her gaze toward the fog-covered horizon, where Valkus had fled like the coward he was.

She had gained much today.

A new servant.

A new plaything to twist and use as she pleased.

And Valkus?

He was nothing more than a loose end.

A loose end that she would enjoy tying up someday.

With a smirk, she whispered to herself:

"Run all you want, Valkus... I'll be waiting."

As Naruto stood on the outskirts of Silent Hill, his gaze swept over the dense fog that shrouded the town like a living entity. The air was thick, heavy with whispers of the tormented souls trapped within, but he remained unfazed. His golden hair gleamed under the dim, twisted sky, and his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—seemed to hold an unwavering warmth despite the oppressive darkness surrounding him.

He knew she was watching.

She had been watching him from the moment he entered this place.

With a small smirk, Naruto placed his hands in his pockets and spoke, his voice carrying through the silence like a ripple in the abyss.

"I know you're there, Alessa." His tone was neither confrontational nor pitying, but steady—like a promise. "You think you've hidden yourself well, but I can feel you. I know your pain, your hatred, and your loneliness. But you're not just that, are you?"

The fog trembled slightly. Somewhere, deep within the Nightmare Realm, Dark Alessa paused.

Naruto continued, his voice unwavering.

"I don't blame you for what you've done. You had every right to be angry. Every right to make them suffer. But you're more than just vengeance. You're more than just a nightmare."

The shadows stirred within the Nightmare Realm, shifting uneasily. Dark Alessa sat within her domain, her expression blank, but her fingers slightly tightened on the armrest of her twisted throne.

Naruto sighed.

"I know it's easier to drown in the darkness. It's comforting. It makes the world simpler, because if you're the monster, no one can ever hurt you again, right?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "But that's not living, Alessa. That's just running. And you've been running for far too long."

The air around him grew heavier, a silent pressure weighing down on him as if the town itself was reacting to his words. But Naruto stood firm.

"You don't have to believe me now. You don't even have to answer. Just… remember this." His gaze softened, his voice quiet but firm. "Not everyone in the world is like them. There's still good in it, even if you've never seen it. Even if it feels impossible to believe in. Don't let the actions of the wicked drown you in the darkness forever."

Dark Alessa exhaled slowly, staring into the void of her realm. Her expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of something crossed her eyes—something uncertain.

For so long, she had been nothing but a force of revenge, the embodiment of all the pain and hatred that Silent Hill could manifest. No one had ever spoken to her like this.

No one had ever told her not to give up.

No one had ever told her she could still be something else.

She scoffed, but the sound lacked its usual malice.

"Fool," she whispered to the shadows, her voice barely audible even in her own domain. "You think words can change me?"

Yet, as she clenched her fists, she realized she wasn't as certain of that answer as she once was.

Naruto was gone, but his words lingered.

And for the first time in decades, a seed of doubt had been planted within the darkness.

Naruto had wasted no time in informing the Justice League about Centurion's location, knowing that the weakened villain was still a considerable threat. The battle at Silent Hill had drained Centurion significantly, forcing him to consume half of his energy just to escape the twisted nightmare realm. Many of his ghostly servants had been lost in the process, leaving him far from his full strength.

Yet, rest was a luxury he could not afford. Before he could fully regain his footing in the real world, Martian Manhunter struck.

J'onn J'onzz launched a psychic assault, invading Centurion's mind with a force so overwhelming that it almost forced him to plummet from the sky. However, Centurion's experience with spiritual warfare granted him a rare advantage. Unlike most beings, he had mastered the ability to operate his body separately from his consciousness. His soul controlled his form like a marionette, leaving his physical self as an empty shell immune to mind control.

This maneuver allowed him to escape the full brunt of the mental attack, but his momentary relief was shattered as two powerful warriors struck him from both sides.

Hawkgirl's Nth Metal Mace and Moon Maiden's Lunar Blade slammed into his chest, the combined impact sending him hurtling like a meteor into the dense forest below. The earth quaked upon his landing, carving a massive crater into the landscape.

The pain was excruciating. Hawkgirl's mace was a legendary weapon, forged from Nth Metal—one of the universe's most powerful substances. Not only did it enhance her strength and speed, but it also negated supernatural defenses, disrupted magical forces, and even manipulated gravity and time itself. It was a direct counter to Centurion's spectral nature, making it one of the worst possible weapons for him to face.

Despite his resilience, the attack had done significant damage.

As dust settled around the ruined terrain, Centurion let out a ghastly scream, a spectral wail that rippled through the battlefield. It wasn't just a shockwave—it was an attack aimed at their very souls.

The assault nearly overwhelmed them.

Moon Maiden acted swiftly, summoning a lunar barrier infused with celestial energy to shield herself and her allies. But the scream penetrated through, shaking her resolve and causing cracks to form in her shield. Hawkgirl reacted instinctively, smashing through the lingering spiritual force with her mace before it could fully consume them.

They had endured—but barely.

Centurion was relentless. The moment his scream subsided, he shifted tactics. Using his newly acquired space manipulation abilities from Kayako, he conjured energy beams from the void. These beams did not travel in a straight line like conventional attacks. Instead, they warped reality, bypassing normal defenses and striking from impossible angles—including from behind.

Moon Maiden barely had time to react before the beams struck her in the back. She managed to radiate lunar light, softening the blow, but the impact still sent her flying across the battlefield, her body crashing through trees like a ragdoll.

Hawkgirl endured the blast better thanks to her armor and sheer durability, though the force still sent her skidding through the air.

Martian Manhunter, however, suffered the most. The spiritual nature of the attack resonated with his psyche, forcing him to relive some of his worst memories. Old fears—the burning of Mars, the screams of his people, the loss of his family—flashed through his mind like a waking nightmare. The attack did not physically wound him, but it tore at his soul. His normally serene face twisted with pain, something rarely seen from the Martian warrior.

And then, Centurion vanished.

He had no intention of continuing the fight. Not against these three. Not in his weakened state.

Before they could retaliate, space warped around him, and he was gone—escaping into the unknown, using Kayako's abilities to phase between locations and avoid pursuit.

Martian Manhunter clenched his fists, his eyes burning with determination.

"This isn't over."

Somewhere in the shadows, Centurion fled, his mind seething with thoughts of vengeance.

As the heroes scattered from the battlefield, Centurion—or rather, Valkus—found himself in an unfamiliar, desolate landscape. He emerged on an uninhabited island, greeted by the imposing figure of Ultra-Humanite, a hulking, white-furred, hyper-intelligent villain known for his genius intellect and utter disregard for those he deemed inferior.

The island was suffocating in its eerie stillness. A dense fog blanketed the land, twisting through the jagged ruins of what was once a civilization, long since abandoned. Bloodstains, faded yet persistent, marked the ground like scars from an ancient massacre. The trees stood lifeless, their skeletal branches stretching toward the sky as if grasping for mercy that would never come.

But neither of the two villains cared about the island's grim aesthetics. Their focus was solely on one another.

Valkus's crimson eyes burned with suspicion as he glared at Ultra-Humanite, the one responsible for pulling him from the nightmare that had nearly swallowed him whole. There was no gratitude in his gaze—only resentment and paranoia. He hated being saved.

Ultra-Humanite, however, regarded him with nothing but scorn. His red eyes gleamed with intellectual disdain as he took in the so-called warlord who had crumbled before Silent Hill's horrors.

"Stop glaring at me like some rabid mutt," Ultra-Humanite sneered. "Or I'll rip those eyes from your skull."

Valkus gritted his teeth at the insult, his hands twitching with barely restrained fury. But before he could respond, the albino villain continued.

"You had one task, Valkus. One. We gave you information. We allowed you access to knowledge that should have made you unstoppable, and yet, you fell like an amateur before completing a single objective. Tell me, what exactly do you have to show for it? Where is your victory? Where is your proof of worth?"

His voice was cold, dissecting Valkus's failure with the precision of a scientist analyzing a failed experiment.

Valkus's body shook, his pride shredding under the weight of the scornful words. He clenched his fists, his breathing turning ragged.

"Incomplete information," Valkus spat venomously. "I lost because you didn't tell me the full truth. You sent me in blind against something beyond human comprehension! How dare you blame me for—"

Before he could finish, gravity crushed him down, forcing him onto his knees.

Ultra-Humanite had barely moved—just a simple activation of his gravity control device, and Valkus was already brought low.

"Incomplete information?" Ultra-Humanite mused, shaking his head in disbelief. "You absolute buffoon. How did you ever delude yourself into believing you were fit to rule, when you don't even have the common sense to analyze an enemy before charging in like a rabid animal?"

His voice remained steady, unshaken, but there was an edge of disgust in his tone.

"This was a test, Valkus. A simple one. We provided you with the means to assess and adapt. Yet, instead of using strategy, instead of manipulating the battlefield to your advantage, you rushed in headfirst and got humiliated. You were not outclassed—you were outthought. And for that alone, you are a disgrace."

The words cut deeper than any blade. Valkus felt his rage boiling, but before he could lash out, a searing pain sliced across his cheek.

Ultra-Humanite had drawn a knife, its sharp edge coated with a strange, glowing substance. He ran it across Valkus's face, drawing blood.

"One last chance," Ultra-Humanite declared. "We will not save you again."

Valkus's breath was heavy, his humiliation now an inferno burning within his core.

"You see this island?" Ultra-Humanite gestured around them. "It is a graveyard of the forsaken—millions of souls, abandoned and forgotten, screaming in endless rage."

Valkus paused, his anger temporarily overshadowed by curiosity. He could feel them now—writhing, crying, clawing at the edges of existence, waiting for a vessel to guide them back to the world of the living.

Ultra-Humanite leaned in closer.

"Take them. Control them. Prove that you are worth even a fraction of the power you claim to possess. And then…" His voice turned sharp as a dagger.

"Dispose of at least one member of the Justice League."

Valkus's fingers twitched as the gravity hold was released. He forced himself up, seething.

Ultra-Humanite turned away, his point made.

"This is your final test, Centurion." The scientist's tone was final, cold. "Succeed, or perish like the failure you are."

With that, he vanished into the mist, leaving Valkus alone with the tormented souls.

Valkus trembled—not with fear, but with fury.

He slammed his fist into the ground, shaking the very island, sending tremors through the soil. The fog swirled around him like whispering ghosts, watching, waiting.

"All of you…" His voice dropped into a guttural growl.

"You will pay for this degradation."

His crimson eyes burned brighter, his hands stretching outward.

A vortex of black and red energy surged around him, the souls of the damned answering his call.

He would consume them all.

He would become more.

Just as Valkus began drawing in the wretched souls, a new voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Found you."

A deep, unnatural voice, layered with something inhuman.

Valkus barely had time to react before a massive hand—gripped his head with terrifying force.