Chapter 93: Another Conspiracy of the Court of Owls

Chapter 93: Another Conspiracy of the Court of Owls

A single explosive arrow shot out.

Oliver was the first to strike, launching a sneak attack.

Boom!

Flames engulfed the Strigoi Priests, consuming him instantly.

However, in the next second, the explosion dissipated into nothing.

The Strigoi Priests remained unharmed, his voice icy cold. "I am shielded by the power of darkness. Nothing in the Positive Matter Universe can harm me."

At that moment, Bruce threw a Batarang.

A terrifying burst of electricity erupted.

As a crimefighter, Bruce's arsenal naturally included high-damage weaponry. His Batarangs, for instance, came with different effects tailored for various situations.

Yet, the lightning merely crackled around the Strigoi Priests's body, as if a magnetic shield was protecting him.

With a casual grasp, he absorbed the electricity into his palm and extinguished it.

Bruce and the others tensed.

Their opponent was completely untouchable. For now, they had no idea how to defeat him.

The next moment, the Talon warriors swarmed in.

Bruce, Oliver, Eric, and Damian immediately engaged the enemy.

The three Robins, knowing their strengths, wisely stayed out of direct combat. They weren't skilled fighters; scheming and trickery were their forte. In a real fight, they'd only get beaten down. If not, why else would the mere presence of Batman always make them instinctively shudder?

The Strigoi Priests didn't attack right away. Instead, he watched from the sidelines, as if the outcome was already decided—no matter how they struggled, they could not change their fate.

Oliver fired freezing arrows for cover, while the other three engaged in close-quarters combat. Their teamwork was seamless, but the sheer number of Talon warriors overwhelmed them.

Meanwhile, the previously downed Deathstroke silently got back up. Drawing his sword, he prepared for an ambush.

If someone hires him and then refuses to pay, even if it were God himself, he'd still stab them.

Either pay up or die.

A legendary name in the mercenary world, Deathstroke took great care in maintaining his reputation.

Boom!

A shockwave erupted from the Strigoi Priests's body.

Caught off guard, Deathstroke was once again sent flying, crashing into a wall. Beneath his mask, his face twisted in pain.

His enhanced healing factor kept him alive, but he still felt pain.

The moment that shockwave hit, it was like getting hit head-on by a semi-truck. It felt as if every bone in his body had been crushed.

Of course, when it came to healing, his cousin, Wade Wilson—Deadpool—was on a whole different level. That lunatic didn't even feel pain. That's why he fought so recklessly, taking bullets without a care and never shutting up.

Deadpool could regenerate entire limbs.

Deathstroke, on the other hand, had to reattach his and wait for them to heal.

Still, he had one advantage—his brain functioned at 90% capacity, granting him exceptional learning, memory, and cognitive abilities.

If his employer hadn't suddenly betrayed him and displayed such terrifying power, Deathstroke might have gone on a killing spree against the Court of Owls.

"You insignificant worm," the Strigoi Priests sneered. "I've been guarding against you from the start. That Nth Metal weapon in your hands—it can counteract dark forces and kill beings from the Dark Multiverse."

His words weren't just for Deathstroke.

The real target of his message was Bruce.

The first four types of dark metals required a willing sacrifice. The ritual had to be completed step by step.

Allen had already warned Bruce—never to touch Dark Metal, or it could bring catastrophe to the entire world.

But was Bruce ever one to listen?

If he was, he wouldn't be Batman.

Bruce memorized every word of the priest's statement, already considering how to obtain the Nth Metal sword for a counterattack.

Boom!

The Strigoi Priests raised a hand and blasted the only weapon capable of harming him off the rooftop with a beam of dark energy.

This only deepened Bruce's suspicions.

He was now certain—the priest feared the Nth Metal.

The Talon warriors had come prepared. If they were frozen, their suits' built-in heating systems activated, restoring their body functions and allowing them to break free.

"Now that the lunatic is dead, are we free?" Cobblepot asked gleefully.

"Finally, we don't have to keep playing Robin anymore."

Edward tried to wipe the grease paint off his eyes, but it seemed to be waterproof. He figured he'd try olive oil later.

"A shame he didn't die by my hands," Arthur grumbled.

Edward and Cobblepot shot him a disdainful look.

Please. You can't even beat Batman, and you think you could kill Allen? Watch out, or your little braided goatee might get burned off.

Say what you want about Allen—crazy as he was, his strength was undeniable.

One day, he'd antagonize the Court of Owls. The next, he'd provoke vampires. Without serious power, he'd have been dead long ago.

The tide of battle was shifting.

Bruce and the others were steadily losing ground, while the Talon warriors firmly held the advantage.

"Batman, accept your fate. Otherwise, those beside you will die one by one," the Strigoi Priests declared slowly.

"Don't listen to him. We can't give up."

"There's only death in battle—never submission."

"No matter what you decide, I'll stand by you."

Oliver, Eric, and Damian all spoke up, preventing Bruce from making the wrong choice.

"You foolish—"

Before the priest could finish, a flash of sword light streaked across his throat.

His ever-present dark force field failed to activate.

At the same time, Allen suddenly appeared beside the priest's corpse.

"Damn, that was a lot of filler. Still had to be me cleaning up the mess."

Annoyed, Allen kicked the corpse twice.

"Showing off? Who do you think you are? Just some nameless extra."

While falling earlier, Allen had grabbed his grappling claw to climb back up. That's when he noticed the Nth Metal sword dropping.

Realizing that only a special metal could kill the priest, he had retrieved it and launched a surprise attack.

With the Strigoi Priests dead, the Talon warriors scattered. There was no need to keep fighting.

"Here's your weapon. Now get out of Gotham."

Allen returned the sword to Deathstroke—not because he didn't want it, but because keeping it might tempt Bruce. And if Bruce gave in, it would play right into the Court of Owls' hands.

Deathstroke picked up the sword and walked toward the stairwell without looking back.

Gotham was too dark.

There was no point in coming back.

The villains here had no honor. They didn't pay for services, and worse, they used magic in fights. It was like dealing with the shadiest contractors.

Bruce's gaze lingered on the Nth Metal sword.

"Damn. It's a trap."

Allen suddenly realized. "Bats, look at me. This was all staged by the Court of Owls. Do not touch Nth Metal. If you do, the Dark Multiverse Batmen will invade. We won't be able to stop them!"

Allen grabbed Bruce's shoulders and shook him vigorously, making his head bob back and forth.

"Stop. I'm getting dizzy."

Bruce steadied himself. "Relax. I remember your warning."

Allen squinted at him, deeply skeptical.

And so, the crisis was finally over.

The vampire invasion was quelled, and the Court of Owls' scheme was thwarted.

Gotham returned to its usual state.

However, the three Robins were not happy. Allen was still alive, which meant they still had to play Robin.

Meanwhile, the hidden judges of the Court of Owls were pleased.

"Sacrificing a priest just to lure Bruce in—what a luxury."

"As long as the ritual succeeds, any sacrifice is worth it."

"Now, we wait for Bruce to take the bait."

…

At that moment, a helicopter was approaching the rooftop.