The battlefield looked like the earth itself had recoiled.
Scorched turf smoldered underfoot, smoke clung to the air, and the metallic tang of blood rode every breath. Sparks sputtered from Cyborg's cracked plating, static fizzing like distant thunder.
The Titans stood—shaken, battered, alive.
They bore the visible scars of Asmodeus's torment; yet in the flickering half-light, resolve began to stir, fragile but growing.
Raven hovered above the cracked ground, caught in a spider's web of possession. Her gaze flickered between agony and the cruel serenity of a mind not wholly her own. Her body shifted unnaturally, jerking as if on marionette strings, her eyes twin voids glowing with infernal fire. Asmodeus's presence bled through her voice, through the silence, through every shadow that bent toward her.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Raven's hands struck together with unnatural precision, her body moving like a puppet pulled by cruel strings. Her lips twisted into a smile that wasn't hers. Shadows wrapped around her wrists and ankles, jerking her upright.
From her throat came a voice layered in silk and venom:
"The game begins."
Her eyes, pools of hollow black, scanned the Titans. A shiver rippled through the team—because behind that gaze, they saw nothing of Raven.
Wildcard stood apart. Where fear haunted the others, he was enthralled—a predator savoring the promise of battle, idly licking a line of blood from his knuckles as he grinned. His fingers tightened around his twinblades, the hungry gleam in his eyes; the Sharingan glowed into the darkness, betraying delight. He licked his lips.
"Finally," he muttered. "The real fight begins."
The air pulsed with tension, each breath thick and electric, every heartbeat a countdown to chaos.
With a whisper, Raven's head turned, her lips parted for voices not her own.
The demon's laughter echoed like cracking stone, rippling across the field.
"Shall we peel you open one by one?" Asmodeus spoke through her, each word digging like hooks.
He drifted through them like poison, focusing his malefic will, and with each shift Raven's form flickered—a predator's gaze splitting attention between foe and prey.
Robin staggered, visions of failure slamming into him—teams crushed because of his missteps, Gotham burning under his command. He grabbed his head, trying to block out the crushing weight
Asmodeus's whisper dug deeper: "Oh, Robin. Was it ever really enough? Leader, legacy, liar."
Starfire saw Tamaran burning, her family screaming. She clutched her chest, breath shuddering, emerald eyes brimming with dread.
Asmodeus coaxed, "Tamaran falls. Again, and again. Your light can't save them—can it?"
Beast Boy shifted helplessly, every form crumpling, dying, no beast strong enough. He fell to his knees, arms wrapped around his shaking body
Asmodeus teased, "Change and change, never enough. Which beast will you die as, little one?"
Cyborg's systems looped artificial pain; every joint a molten ache. He slammed his fist down, trying to override the agony.
Asmodeus jeered, "How easily the metal turns to rust. All your upgrades, so fragile."
Jinx watched her powers betray her, hex-bombs bursting among friends. She squeezed her eyes shut, hands trembling, desperate to repress the visions.
Asmodeus sneered, "Chaos is loyal to nothing—not even you. Who will you hurt next?"
M'gann trembled, her psyche flooded with projections of ancient, forgotten Martian trauma—screams buried in her bloodline, magnified until they drowned her thoughts.
Asmodeus hummed, "You can't hide from old fears, child. Pain is in the bone, the mind—forever."
Each clap from Raven deepened the spell, weaving despair into marrow.
The Titans was left gasping, skin crawling, hearts pounding, adrift in jagged moments between despair and defiance., each hero threatened by the weakest version of themselves.
Through it all, Asmodeus whispered, poisoning every hope, exploiting every vulnerability. Raven's posture shifted abruptly, her shoulders squared, then hunched—a grotesque marionette torn vigorously between master and resistance.
Wildcard broke the tension with a manic laugh, sharp, reckless, irresistible.
"Nice trick, Asmo," he hissed, chakra sparking like wildfire. "But you forgot one thing… I play too."
Lightning ripped from his palm, coiling into a Tempest Serpent that roared across the battlefield. Shadows rose to block it, clashing in a storm of crackling light and black smoke.
Asmodeus shifted his puppet, Raven's arms flowing into sigils, weaving a reflection of Wildcard himself—a shadow-doppelgänger that moved with his exact cadence. It smiled his smile. It laughed his laugh.
Wildcard's grin faltered—just for a second. Then he barked out a harsh laugh.
"Cute. But there's only one of me."
His hand snapped into a seal.
"Chidori Current!"
Lightning exploded outward, shredding the false copy, vaporizing shadows into crackling mist.
For a heartbeat, the demon's calm cracked.
Wildcard rushed forward, blades flashing, grinning even as darkness twisted and recoiled at his advance. The demon's focus flickered—a moment's lapse, dividing strength between those suffering and the challenger who refused to cower.
Steel flashed, chakra surged. Wildcard's blades clashed against Raven's shadow-wrapped arms, sparks flaring as flesh and steel met eldritch force.
Raven's shadows erupted behind her, morphing into slavering wolf-shapes that lunged for Wildcard. He countered, summoning a blinding spiral of gale-force wind—"Tempest blade Jutsu!"—the blades of wind shredding spectral beasts into smoke.
Raven reeled, and dark magic arced from her palms—a crackling net meant to ensnare. Wildcard grinned wide, twinblades spinning as he sent a bolt of lightning through the net, detonating it mid-air.
He zipped low, teleporting behind Raven with a flicker of chakra.
"Too slow, demon! You have to do better!"
Asmodeus hissed, voice icy. "Your bravado will taste sweet when silence falls."
Shadows snaked around Wildcard's feet, but he parried with a swirling shield of water, the liquid slicing through the tendrils. He closed in, blades humming, Raven forced to defend with a desperate burst of telekinetic force that rocked the stadium.
The duel electrified the field. Wildcard spun lightning through blue sunbursts, lashing at Raven's shields. She retorted with a column of black fire, the two powers crackling and clashing with thunderous force.
Every exchange was inventive, wild—a deadly dance of blade and shadow, wind and flame.
Wildcard taunted again, panting from the exertion:
"Don't get shy now! Show me you can really fight!
Asmodeus moved Raven like a predator wearing her skin. Shadows lashed out, nearly clipping Wildcard—yet he only twirled, laughing louder, his excitement palpable.
Every strike was a dare.
Every dodge, a mocking bow.
Asmodeus's voice sharpened, turning cold and intent.
"You amuse me, Wildcard. But even wolves bleed. And every drop, every scream, every hope—you'll watch me consume them."
***
The collision between Wildcard and Asmodeus's control was explosive, sending ripples through the battlefield.
At last, the storm reached its crescendo. Raven soared, unleashing a beam of dark magic—her blow lighting up the field like dawn breaking through hell. Wildcard dodged, cackling as his blades rang with manic joy, each move daring Asmodeus to risk even more.
Wildcard cackled mid-swing, sunshining out of the blast radius, blades ringing with manic joy.
"Now that's it! Come on out and play properly," he howled, ducking a psychic lance. "Or are you afraid your little puppet will snap the strings?"
Asmodeus only smiled.
Raven's hands clapped together in a hollow rhythm—mock applause that echoed like thunder. Each strike of her palms pulled invisible strings tighter, sealing the gambit in a shroud of shadows.
Asmodeus's smile widened, teeth gleaming like a predator in the dark. His words dripped with venomous certainty.
"Puppets dance, Wildcard. But in the end, it is always the hand that burns the stage."
The battlefield froze beneath that rhythm. Every hero felt it—moves predicted, sacrifices already measured, destinies bound to a demon's game.
But then—
The Sharingan whirled crimson, spirals blazing as Wildcard scanned the field. In the storm's heart he saw it: chains of thought, invisible but strangling, Asmodeus's control woven into every Titan's mind
"Not on my stage."
With a guttural roar, his chakra exploded outward—hypnotic lightning tearing across the field. It struck the Titans' minds like a hammer on glass, splintering Asmodeus's grip, scattering shadows into shreds of smoke.
One by one, eyes snapped open.Muscles loosened. The Titans blinked, clarity flooding back like a rush of oxygen, Clarity returned. Breath returned. Hope—returning like a blade sliding free of its sheath.
Starfire's emerald fury reignited, her body glowing like a fallen star. With a war cry, she drove her fist into the ground. The impact thundered, a shockwave of light ripping through shadow.
Jinx's hands blazed pink, weaving hex shields into crystalline domes. The magic shimmered like broken starlight, protecting her teammates and steadying their hearts.
M'gann gasped, psychic fire flooding back. She reached into Raven's broken mind, threading defenses, weaving sparks of Raven's true voice through the cracks of Asmodeus's dominion. A whisper of rebellion grew into a defiant pulse.
Beast Boy's form surged into a towering gorilla, bellowing with primal rage. His fists cleared shadows like wrecking balls, carving breathing space with each furious strike.
Cyborg rebooted with a shudder, gears clicking, cannons glowing hot. "Systems online." Blasts of pure plasma screamed into the dark, burning tendrils to ash.
Robin steadied himself, chest heaving—but eyes sharp. "Titans, with me!" he barked, voice cutting clean through chaos. Orders flew crisp, pulling them back into formation, into family.
And at the center of it—Wildcard laughed, bloodlust and joy intermingling, Sharingan spinning like a storm.
"Now that's the spirit!" he roared, blades carving arcs of silver fire as he dove back into the slaughter.
The Titans surged as one. Sparks became fire. Fire became an inferno. Inch by inch, their defiance pushed the darkness back—turning despair into war cries.
As the Titans rallied, the battlefield transformed—light clashing against shadow, voices rising against the silence Asmodeus had imposed. For the first time, the rhythm of Raven's hollow applause faltered, as though even the shadows hesitated.
And Asmodeus?
He did not rage. He did not falter. He simply watched.
The predator's smile never left his face, though it sharpened, becoming something colder. His golden eyes narrowed, not with surprise, but with interest—like a scholar watching an experiment stray beyond the expected variables.
"Ah…" His voice slithered across the battlefield, deeper than thunder, smooth as oil on fire. "The marionettes cut their strings. How… quaint."
He stepped forward, the air warping with each motion, shadows bending toward him like worshippers to an altar. His aura swelled, a tide of heatless flame licking across the ruins of the dreamscape.
Chains of darkness sprouted from the ground like roots, writhing and snapping, eager to reclaim their prey. But instead of striking, they hovered in the air, quivering as though awaiting permission.
Asmodeus spread his arms wide, mockingly inviting the Titans' rebellion. "Do you truly think you have escaped my stage?"
His eyes swept across them, one by one, pinning them beneath his gaze. Starfire's flames dimmed for an instant, her heart recoiling under the weight of that unearthly stare. Beast Boy stumbled, growl breaking into a shiver as primal instinct screamed that this thing was no prey, no predator—only abyss.
And then his gaze settled on Wildcard.
The Sharingan burned, unflinching, reflecting back the abyss.
That earned a chuckle—low, resonant, dripping with hunger. "So it is you, little gambler, who dares overturn my table." His smile widened into something monstrous, too many teeth, a maw that hinted at infinity. "Break their chains if you must. Break their wills. Break even their fear."
He leaned forward, shadows swirling into a mantle about his frame, whispering like a thousand voices praying in reverse.
"But understand this."
The world trembled. The Titans staggered as the dreamscape bent inward, skies blackening, earth cracking into molten rivers. Every shadow lengthened, converging toward Asmodeus like ink drawn to gravity itself.
"You do not save them from me. You deliver them deeper."
The words sank like hooks into their minds, tugging at doubts, pulling at fractures. The battlefield darkened as his smile bloomed into full, terrible brilliance.
"Dance, little flames. Burn brighter if you dare. The darker the night, the sweeter the feast."
And with that, the abyss surged forward again, hungry, unyielding—Asmodeus smiling all the while, as if the Titans' defiance was not resistance… but entertainment.
End of chapter.
Author's note check out my new book
Spider man: legacy of first hokage.