Chapter 83: Demon Dean against the Superheroes(Part 1)

Chapter 83: Demon Dean against the Superheroes(Part1)

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Dean didn't know how to use magic like sealing. If talking his way out of a problem didn't work, he would be completely helpless.

In reality, this wasn't entirely Dean's fault. His idea was solid, and his method was correct. The only problem was that Raven couldn't take things "step by step." She had suppressed the darkness in her heart for an unknown amount of time, along with the dark power she had inherited from Trigon. Now, with all of it surging out at once, a full-blown transformation was inevitable.

But as long as Raven could release her accumulated negative emotions, she would be able to control her magic far more easily in the future.

Just as Dean was about to continue persuading Raven to change back, the door of the safe house suddenly swung open.

Nightwing had accessed the Batcomputer as soon as he arrived in Gotham and unexpectedly found a visit record from a safe house. The problem? He had never been there. Yet, Batwing's location had been pinged near that same safe house—not once, but twice. Once could be a coincidence, but twice? That was suspicious.

So Nightwing took Starfire and Beast Boy with him to check out the location. After successfully tracking Batwing, they used his fingerprint authentication to unlock the safe house door.

Sunlight streamed into the dimly lit space as Nightwing burst in, gripping a sword radiating powerful light energy.

Then, he took in the sight before him.

A massive, blood-red magic circle was engraved on the floor—one that looked unmistakably sinister. In the center of the circle stood Raven, her body bound by writhing, shadowy tentacles. Her form had completely changed, making her resemble a full-fledged demon.

And so, Nightwing reached the most intuitive conclusion.

"Damn it! Trigon corrupted Dean and used some kind of ritual to turn Raven!"

"…"

Dean was silent again.

On one hand, this was a complete misunderstanding.

On the other hand, this misunderstanding fit the persona he was currently playing. Even if he tried to explain that he hadn't fallen to darkness, none of the heroes would believe him.

Wait… the safe house's soundproofing also contained lead. That meant Superman wouldn't be able to see inside. Would he assume the worst and fly over to punch him through the wall?

Oh my god, I'm really just learning magic from Raven! Nothing else!

Dean screamed in frustration internally, but on the surface, he remained perfectly calm. No one could suspect he was faking it.

"Hmph. I didn't expect you to find me so soon, but you're still too late, Nightwing."

Dean, in his Dimension Demon form, straightened up—smashing through the ceiling as he did so.

"The transformation ritual is complete. Raven, go have fun with your friends. Remember, I need a full sacrifice!"

The tentacles binding Raven loosened. She turned to face her teammates with a bright smile, her six yellow eyes narrowing.

"Okay, Dad. I'll be careful."

Three tangible shadows stretched out from beneath her, successfully ensnaring Starfire, Beast Boy, and Nightwing.

"Raven, snap out of it!"

Nightwing swung the artifact sword Raven had given him, slashing through the shadows. Raven winced in pain. Her shadows were an extension of her body—of course, being cut would hurt.

Dean's expression darkened. Seeing Raven in pain made him furious. He lunged at Nightwing with a grin that was all sharp teeth and malice.

"Raven, leave Nightwing to me. You handle the other two!"

This was exactly what Nightwing had hoped for. The sword in his hand had the power to kill Raven and reincarnate her—something he would never do unless absolutely necessary. But this wasn't that moment. Not yet. First, he had to get past Dean, who was attacking with ruthless efficiency.

"I'll handle Trigon's son! Starfire, Beast Boy, hold out until I'm done!"

Raven looked at her teammates with conflicted emotions, but when she saw Dean deliberately drawing Nightwing away—the one person who wouldn't hesitate to kill her if he had no choice—her heart warmed.

"Don't worry, Dad. I won't disappoint you."

Just then, Starfire broke free by unleashing a blast of energy, while Beast Boy shrank into a mouse and slipped out of the shadows' grasp.

But what awaited them was an all-too-familiar sight.

A teleportation circle.

"Starfire, Beast Boy," Raven said softly, her voice echoing around them.

"Welcome to my world."

The world around them shifted.

A vast, boundless void stretched out in all directions, speckled with distant lights that resembled stars. But the most striking thing of all was the massive six-eyed gaze looming over them, watching their every move.

On the other side, Nightwing was relentlessly chasing the Dimension Demon, using his grapple hook to maneuver through the air while stabbing repeatedly with the sword in his hand. Every strike was aimed precisely at Dean's waist, a clear attempt to take him down quickly.

Dean resisted the urge to complain. Right now, he was playing the role of the ultimate demon king, Trigon's heir, a being destined to destroy all the heroes of Earth. He couldn't afford to break character.

"Nightwing, do you really think you can deal with me using just a magic sword?" Dean scoffed, coming to a stop in the middle of an abandoned construction site. "You're far too naïve."

Nightwing retracted his grapple gun and landed gracefully, eyes sharp with determination. "So, you've finally stopped running?" He twirled the sword in his grip, then pointed it at Dean with confidence. "Trigon's heir, you've been hunting us down this whole time, which can only mean one thing—Raven's sword can hurt you. No—" His expression darkened. "It can kill you."

Nightwing wasn't wrong. Dean could feel the threat radiating from the sword, an instinctive warning screaming at him to avoid getting struck. One clean hit, and the consequences could be disastrous.

But that sword…

Dean, still in his Dimension Demon persona, smirked cunningly and reached into the system warehouse, retrieving the legendary Changhong Sword.

"Nightwing, using a sword in front of me was your biggest mistake."

The Changhong Sword held the accumulated skills of all its past masters, and among those techniques, swordsmanship was paramount. Combined with Dean's natural talent for swordplay, it gave him an overwhelming advantage.

Holding the blade between two fingers, Dean pointed it directly at Nightwing.

"Let's see how many of my strikes you can withstand."

Even though his sword techniques were only functioning at 70% of their usual power in his demonic form, Dean was still confident in his victory. After all, the Changhong Sword Style was unparalleled.

In the DC universe, where combat efficiency took precedence over form, the martial techniques from the world of Rainbow Cat and Blue Rabbit had been largely overlooked. But when it came to pure swordsmanship, Dean was already the undisputed number one.

Nightwing didn't dismiss the Dimension Demon's arrogance, nor did he let himself be intimidated. He knew Dean's sword skills were formidable, and it made sense that Trigon's corruption would allow Dean to access his full potential.

Still, he had no intention of backing down.

"The first move—Rainbow Fills the Sky."

Dean announced the attack aloud. In an instant, the blade glowed brilliantly, scattering its light into multiple streaks of rainbow-colored energy. The beams of sword light intertwined, forming a dazzling yet deadly pattern as they cut through the air toward Nightwing.

Nightwing quickly raised his sword to block, managing to deflect two of the sword rays. The third, however, forced him to dodge sideways. It barely missed him—but as he moved, he felt a sharp breeze pass through his uniform. A large tear had been sliced cleanly into the fabric.

Dean grinned. "Not bad. Now, let's see how you handle the second move—Rainbow Pierces the Sun!"

He called out the name of the technique once again. It sounded ridiculous—like something straight out of a children's show—but paired with the surging sword energy around him, it carried an overwhelming sense of oppression.

A single, concentrated beam of rainbow light shot forward with terrifying speed.

Nightwing knew he couldn't block it. His mind raced. How the hell had Dean's swordsmanship advanced so much in just half a month? He couldn't even withstand the second move.

Just as the energy blade was about to strike, a stone wall erupted in front of him. The rainbow light cut through three-fourths of the wall before dissipating.

The Dimension Demon slashed upward, slicing the stone barrier clean in half. But Nightwing was already gone.

"Thanks, Elemental Girl," his voice rang out from behind.

Standing nearby, the purple-haired, violet-eyed Elemental Girl withdrew her outstretched arm, which had briefly transformed into solid rock. She lowered her gaze, flustered. "N-No need to thank me, Nightwing. This is what I should do."

Firestorm landed beside them, grinning. "No, we should be the ones thanking you, Nightwing. Without the coordinates you sent, we'd still be wandering around Gotham."

It was the truth. Firestorm was incredibly powerful, but tracking people wasn't exactly his strong suit. And in Gotham, gathering intel was always a nightmare—there were simply too many layers of corruption, too many variables interfering with their efforts.

Black Canary suddenly dropped down next to them and helped Nightwing to his feet. "Green Arrow's already in position," she informed him. "He's ready to provide long-range support."

Nightwing shook his head. "No. Only this sword can actually hurt him. I doubt any other attack will even leave a scratch."

Black Canary pressed a finger to her earpiece. "Green Arrow, you heard all that?"

Perched atop a nearby high-rise, Oliver Queen nocked an arrow and adjusted his aim. "Loud and clear," he responded. "Changing strategy. I'll create openings for Nightwing to strike."

"Save yourself the trouble!"

A sharp cry echoed through the battlefield as a bald eagle soared overhead. In midair, its lower body transformed—shifting into that of a lion.

Vixen, now in hybrid form, landed gracefully and let out another fierce eagle screech. Her eyes locked onto the Dimension Demon, her aura burning with primal energy.

"He looks strong," she said, flexing her claws, "but we're stronger!"

Before she could charge in, a figure appeared beside her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. It was Black Lightning , sunglasses obscuring his eyes as he spoke in a low, warning tone.

"The Blue Devil just sent a message," he said. "He can feel the demonic aura coming off this guy. Don't be reckless, Vixen." Vixen hesitated, her sharp instincts clashing with the thrill of battle surging through her veins.

The Blue Devil gripped Satan's Trident, his expression grim as he gazed at the Dimension Demon with solemn determination. The sheer pressure radiating from the otherworldly entity before him sent shivers down his spine, but he stood firm, his grip on the weapon tightening.

"I have never attempted to expel a being of such overwhelming power before," he admitted, his voice carrying a rare hint of uncertainty. Then, his grip tightened, his stance solidifying as he looked toward the others. "Everyone, I'll need your support. Lend me your strength!"

Dean instinctively surveyed his surroundings, his sharp gaze flickering from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of Zatanna—but she was nowhere to be found. That put him on high alert. Something didn't feel right.

Despite his cautious instincts, the battle fervor within him could not be contained. A blazing passion ignited in his veins, spreading like wildfire through his body. That unstoppable flame surged into the Changhong Sword, setting the blade aglow with burning energy, its edge flickering ominously.

A smirk crept onto his lips as he let out a bold, resounding laugh.

"Hahaha! Why are you all still standing around?" he taunted, throwing his arms wide. His voice echoed across the battlefield, laced with equal parts amusement and provocation. "There's no need for grand speeches about heroism when dealing with a villain like me! Enough talk—attack me together!"

---

What is the single most important trait of a final boss in a grand battle?

Is it having an unstoppable master plan that must be fulfilled at all costs? No.

Is it being intelligent enough to outmaneuver the Dark Knight of Gotham himself? Not necessarily.

No, the true measure of a final boss lies in their ability to withstand punishment—to take hit after hit and still keep standing, unfazed.

Because if an event gathers countless heroes and they bring all their might against a single foe, only for that foe to collapse immediately, what would that say about the rest of them?

Wouldn't that be… embarrassing?

That is precisely why most powerful bosses never go all out in the beginning.

They could end everything instantly—yet they choose not to.

Instead, they allow the heroes to feel like they have a chance, to unleash their grand attacks, to build tension. They make sure the battle is visually spectacular, allowing the heroes' combined strength to look like a force to be reckoned with.

After all, every great villain understands the rules of the game.

First, let them believe they can win.

Then, let them taste despair.

Finally—crush them completely.

Dean, much like Trigon, was a natural-born Dimension Demon. Among their kind, he was undoubtedly one of the most gifted. He had inherited many of Trigon's finest attributes—unmatched durability, skin tougher than steel, and an unnatural ability to withstand damage.

This was what made him a true demon of war.

---

A sharp whistle cut through the air—then, in the blink of an eye, an arrow shot forward from behind, piercing straight toward the back of Dean's head. The moment it made contact—

BOOM!

A violent explosion erupted as the arrow's payload detonated upon impact, shrouding Dean's head in thick, rolling smoke. The force of the blast sent shockwaves rippling outward, causing dust and debris to swirl chaotically.

For a moment, the battlefield was silent. Then a strong gust of wind burst forth.

Dean casually waved his palm, sending out a powerful wind current that instantly dispersed the lingering smoke. His face remained completely unscathed. His skin was flawless, without even the slightest mark.

A mocking smirk curled his lips.

"Really, Green Arrow? Is this the best you can do?" His voice dripped with disdain, his eyes filled with amusement. "I suggest you consider retirement. Bows and arrows?" He scoffed. "Come on, old man. They're outdated."

And he wasn't wrong.

The power of Trigon's lineage was enough to surpass even that of Kryptonians.

While Dean lacked the full magical amplification of his demonic predecessor, his physical defense was nearly identical, and his resistance to magic was even higher.

Ordinary weapons?

They were utterly useless.

This was bad news for heroes like Green Arrow, whose combat relied on skill, precision, and technology rather than raw superhuman power.

High above, perched on a distant rooftop, Oliver Queen remained unfazed.

He couldn't hear Dean's taunts—but that didn't matter.

Because he hadn't expected the first arrow to do any damage.

It was just a test shot.

After all, this wasn't his first time facing an opponent whose defenses were impenetrable. If you thought that meant Green Arrow was useless in this fight, you would be gravely mistaken.

His mind was already miles ahead, analyzing, adapting.

"Dinah, listen to me…" he murmured into his comm, beginning a rapid-fire strategy session with Black Canary.

The explosion had officially kicked off the battle. Yet, the first hero to charge forward was not Firestorm, who had been boasting the loudest.

Instead, it was Black Lightning.

Because if there was one thing speedsters excelled at—it was making the first move.

Before Dean even had time to react, he was struck by dozens of rapid-fire punches. Lightning-charged fists rained down on him at near supersonic speed, each impact crackling with electric energy.

CRACK—CRACK—CRACK—

Bright yellow sparks erupted as the blows landed, sending flashes of light across the battlefield.

Yet—

Dean barely flinched. The damage wasn't enough.

Black Lightning skidded to a halt, frustration flickering across his face as he clapped his hands together, extinguishing some of the hellfire licking at Dean's body.

"The fire on this demon… sure catches easily," he muttered. A deep frown crossed his face. He was irritated—not just by the lack of effect, but by his own shortcomings.

Had he fully mastered the ultra-high-speed vibrating hand strike, those last few blows would have been deadly—enough to tear through Dean's insides like a blade slicing through paper.

Dean's eyes gleamed as he turned toward Black Lightning.

He didn't recognize this particular hero. But then he caught sight of the golden lightning trails left in his wake.

And in that instant, he knew.

A Speedster.

His grin widened.

Perfect.

He had dozens of battle strategies designed specifically for neutralizing the Flash. And now, he had the perfect test subject to try them on. His fingers tightened around the Changhong Sword, grip steady. His eyes burned with cruel excitement.

"A Speedster? Just in time."

The flames around his blade roared to life, crackling with hellish energy.

"I've been waiting for a chance to try out my Flash Contingencies…"

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