Overpowered

Ren Zu rose to his feet with a grunt, feeling the sharp protest of bruised ribs against his lungs. He rolled his neck until it cracked like brittle autumn branches, sending pinpricks of relief down his spine. Blood dribbled from his split lip, which he wiped with the back of his sleeve. His remaining sword's hilt was already in his grip, knuckles white and pulse throbbing against the worn leather wrapping.

His eyes scanned the room—high-tech, circular, and alive with cables and walls that pulsed like bruised flesh. The space smelled of burnt metal and ozone, with an underlying copper tang of spilled blood. It was also ravaged. Glass crunched beneath his boots.

The gravity felt slightly off, pulling at his bones differently. The air tasted wrong—processed, filtered, with none of the natural pollens and dust he was accustomed to.

 Some kind of lab? A prison? Hard to tell.

I was training in my courtyard.

He remembered the sound of wind chimes tinkling in the breeze, the crunch of gravel underfoot as he moved through forms. 

And then...

Darkness. A void so complete it seemed to swallow not just light but existence itself.

Infinity. Stretching in all directions, pulling at his consciousness like taffy.

Eternity. Time losing all meaning as his very atoms seemed to scatter and reassemble.

And now—

"We seem to be allies of circumstance, stranger."

Now he was here. The harsh fluorescent lights burning his retinas. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The distant hum of machinery vibrating through the soles of his feet.

"…It appears so, doesn't it?"

He said it like a man commenting on the weather, though his thoughts were far less amused.

I've been isekai'd again, huh? 

He glanced sideways. The one who'd spoken was a dark-skinned teenager, glowing blue tattoos crawling up his arms like sea serpents. He looked composed. Competent. His stance spoke of training, but also of exhaustion.

In front of them, a monster stood in a boy's body. Pale skin, white suit with an angry red 'S' stretched taut across a chest that rose and fell with barely contained fury. His stance screamed violence, feet planted shoulder-width apart, the floor actually depressed beneath them. 

Is this a variation of DC? Is that a clone of Superman?

Ren Zu's jaw flexed, the tendons in his neck tightening as he swallowed against a parched throat.

The only reason he was still breathing was reflex—if he hadn't raised his blade in time, that guy's punch would've put his head through the back wall. 

And judging by the floor, others hadn't been as lucky.

Two figures sprawled across the metal plating—one in yellow, the other in black and red. They seemed familiar.

Robin and... Flash Junior or something? I think I'm starting to understand where I am.

Alas, there wasn't time to think.

Their enemy roared as he launched himself forward, tearing the floor underfoot as he came. Aqualad moved fast, water sloshing as he flicked his WaterBearers into a whip and slammed it across the boy's chest. It cracked loud like thunder, the percussive force sending the clone to the floor with a crash.

A moment of advantage.

Aqualad took it, spinning into a kick that cracked across the side of the clone's face.

It didn't work.

The clone caught his leg mid-air like it weighed nothing.

Then, with a grunt, he hurled Aqualad like a ragdoll.

Ren Zu braced. He caught the flying teen with both arms, stumbling backward as his feet screamed across the metal. The weight of another fully-grown male slammed against his chest made his ribs scream in protest.

"I've been hit by boars with better manners," he muttered through gritted teeth, setting the boy down with a grunt.

"We can't beat him physically," Aqualad said, coughing into his hand, the wet sound suggesting internal damage. "As you probably noticed."

Ren Zu nodded. 

 "Did you try talking to him?" 

"Yes, we did..." Aqualad glanced at his unconscious friends, "...It didn't work so far." 

"Well," Ren Zu said, stepping forward and brushing dust from his robes, " It seems to be either that or surrender.

He stopped, staring the clone down. The boy—no, the weapon—was still steaming, fists clenched, breath sharp and fast like a cornered animal.

Ren locked eyes with him.

"Someone is controlling your mind," he said evenly. "And you're letting them. Are you so weak-willed that you follow commands without thinking for yourself?"

The words landed like stones breaking still water.

The Superboy's brow furrowed. His hands twitched, fingers splaying and then curling back into fists. A vein pulsed visibly at his temple.

"I... am not... weak."

The words tore from his mouth like broken glass,

"I AM NOT WEAK!"

In the space of a breath, he was charging. The floor buckled beneath each footfall. His fist whooshed toward Ren Zu's face, displacing air with a sound like an incoming missile, a punch that could have leveled a wall.

But Ren Zu didn't move from his spot. His muscles coiled tight as springs, every instinct screaming at him to dodge, but he remained still, feeling his pulse throb in his throat.

He just let the tip of his sword rise slowly—until it hovered right in front of the boy's eyes, the polished metal catching the light and reflecting it.

The clone flinched, pupils contracting at the sudden gleam. He dodged to the side—the movement creating a rush of air that ruffled Ren Zu's hair—

—and lunged again, arms wide for a tackle, fingers splayed like claws.

But all he grabbed was air, his momentum carrying him forward with a frustrated growl.

Ren Zu was already above him, twisting mid-jump with grace. His feet were covered in the green light of the Dragonpill Cricket Gu.

From behind came Aqualad—moving with renewed purpose despite the limp in his stride. He met the clone with a war cry.

There was no hesitation as he landed a brutal uppercut to the clone's chest that echoed like steel on stone, the impact traveling up Aqualad's arm visibly. The clone barely flinched, merely grunting as his sternum absorbed a blow that would shatter ordinary bones.

He swung—a savage hook that whistled through the air—but Aqualad ducked under it cleanly and slipped in close, the motion fluid as water. His fist cracked against the clone's side, right above the hip. A kidney shot. It made Superboy stagger, feet shuffling unevenly, but not fall.

Then Aqualad moved behind him. His arms slipped under the clone's and locked behind his head in a chokehold—but that wasn't the real trick. Ren Zu could feel the static electricity building in the air, making the fine hairs on his arms stand on end.

Lightning surged.

Blue arcs danced across the black tattoos on his skin and then into Superboy's back. The scent of ozone flooded the room, burning Ren's nostrils. The air crackled audibly, the sound of raw energy finding paths of least resistance.

Ren Zu leapt away on instinct, boots skidding on the metal as static crackled dangerously close.

The electricity cast blue-white shadows across the walls. He could see it in the clone's face—the way his muscles seized. The way his mouth opened in a half-growl, half-scream. Spasms rippled across his form, making his fingers twitch and jerk.

But even while locked in place, he moved.

Superboy reared back and hurled himself—and Aqualad still clinging to him—upward. The ceiling cracked from the impact. Concrete dust snowed down, coating them all in a fine gray powder.

Aqualad took the brunt of it. His grip faltered momentarily, fingers spasming from the shock.

But he didn't let go. His face contorted with determination and pain, teeth bared in a grimace.

So Superboy did it again. Harder.

The second impact shattered the hold with a crunch of bone meeting reinforced concrete. The Atlantean crumpled, falling like dead weight to the floor.

He didn't move after that. 

Ren Zu watched silently as the clone straightened. The rage hadn't faded—it just settled. His breathing gradually slowed, becoming more measured, though still heavy enough to hear across the room.

Then Superboy turned.

And walked towards Ren Zu.

Methodical. Inevitable. The sound of bare feet on metal creating a rhythm like a funeral march. His face was back to an expressionless mask.

Ren Zu let out a long, slow sigh, feeling the air leave his lungs completely before drawing in again, tasting dust and metal. 

I could have killed those ugly creatures controlling him, but then who's to say what would happen? Testing my luck right at this moment when I don't understand anything... Would be beyond stupidity...

His remaining sword clattered to the floor beside him, the sound incongruously loud in the sudden quiet.

I'd rather let this show play out

Then he raised both hands in surrender, feeling the stretch of sore muscles across his shoulders, the sting of abrasions on his palms. As he did so, he silently willed his Yellow Horse Longhorn Beetle Gu to activate. Even if he wanted to resist, he knew that it wouldn't make any difference.

The weak can only bow to the will of the strong, he hought, and then the fist came—impossibly fast yet somehow in slow motion, displacing air with a whistle that grew to a roar—

—and the world cracked into black for Ren Zu... for the second time in the past few minutes.