Hazy dark clouds smothered the city, colossal lead-grey masses stretching across the skyline. Gothic buildings rose like jagged teeth, forming a continuous silhouette beneath the haze, as though wrapped in pitch-black sorcery. Iron-chain mist coiled through the streets, heavy and suffocating, swallowing the weary souls who wandered too long in its grasp.
This was Gotham — a city that managed to stay dark even at noon.
Liam had to leave the Mother-Daughter for another time. Anyways, he was more important things to do.
He adjusted his night gear and followed the faint signal pulsing from his bracelet. It led him into a narrow, dim alley, the kind of place sunlight seemed to avoid entirely.
Sewage trickled down cracked pavement. Windows, brittle and clouded with decades of grime, glared down like blind eyes. Even the streetlights at the mouth of the alley seemed choked, casting little more than a sickly glow.
A dead end.
Liam slowed, double-checking the coordinates on his bracelet. No mistake — this was the spot.
Before he could investigate further, a voice rasped behind him.
"If I were you, child, I would leave this place."
Liam turned, and an old man emerged from the shadows at the alley's entrance.
Gaunt, draped in a tattered coat, he might've passed for a vagrant — but his presence was something else entirely. His wrinkled face, hawkish nose, and eyes sunk deep with centuries of weight radiated a kind of quiet authority, like a king who had long since laid down his crown but not his dignity.
"Go, while your legs still obey you." The man's voice was sharp, less suggestion and more command. "Otherwise…"
The words died as a cackle slithered out from the darkness.
The old man's brow furrowed. "Too late."
From the alley wall, shadows pooled and surged, coalescing into a hulking shape. The creature that emerged had the vague form of a man but was clad in a grotesque green-black carapace, bristles quivering along its frame. Its eyes glowed like fractured gems, while its "legs" unraveled into hundreds of thin, silver tendrils that writhed like worms in a nest.
"A demon spirit," the old man muttered with disdain. "A pitiful minion of dark magic dares to show itself before me?"
The thing laughed, its voice like nails dragged over metal.
"Dares? Old man, you're barely clinging to life. Nine thousand years have hollowed you out. The throne of Eternal Rock wobbles beneath your frail bones. You are not formidable now — you are food."
Liam blinked. 'Nine thousand? He's older than some Ultraman lore I've read.'
Eternal Rock… a Wizard… The thought clicked.
This ragged elder wasn't just some hermit. He was the Wizard — the same one who granted Billy Batson the power of Shazam. Guardian of ancient magic. In every story, he was searching for an heir pure enough to inherit his mantle. Now, standing before Liam, he looked less like an untouchable legend and more like… well, someone desperately racing against the clock.
The Wizard's voice deepened, carrying thunder even through his frailty. "I may be old, but I am still guardian of the Eternal Rock, ruler of magic, jailer of monsters. You think to challenge me? Retreat, creature, before I unmake you."
He raised a hand. Lightning crackled in his palm, coalescing into a spear of golden energy. With a roar, he hurled it forward. The alley flared like Olympus itself had thrown down a bolt.
And then…
Thud.
The strike splashed against the demon spirit like a pebble tossed at a tank.
If it hurt, it was the kind of "-1 HP" tap that didn't even scratch the paint.
Liam stared. "…That's it?"
The demon wasn't even singed. The Wizard, meanwhile, staggered to one knee, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon. His knuckles trembled against the wet ground.
"I… am too weakened," he admitted through clenched teeth. "I once defeated demon gods, bound calamities in chains. I never thought… I would sink to this."
The spirit laughed cruelly. "Your era has ended. The Eternal Rock will be ours. And with it, all magic shall bow!"
"Never!" The Wizard forced himself upright. Frail as he appeared, a stubborn strength bled through his frame — like a stalk of bamboo that refused to snap. He spread his arms, shielding Liam with his thin body.
"Go, young man. Leave. I have… trump cards yet. It will not be easy for such filth to kill me."
He spat blood onto the stones.
Liam grimaced. 'No wonder the guy's been desperate to find an heir. He's on borrowed time.'
But the Wizard only wiped his mouth, fire in his dim eyes. "Nine millennia I have stood guard. If my fate ends here, so be it. Even should you step over my corpse, the world will always have Guardians. Today, with the blood of Shazam—"
A blinding light erupted. Not from him, but from behind him.
The alley split with brilliance, tearing the shadows asunder.
The demon froze. In its fractured mind, a single, chilling thought struck: 'This power… it's no spell. It's something worse!!'
"Lies! They told me he was finished! Where did this monster come fro—"
Its voice never finished.
The Spacium Ray engulfed it whole.
The alley became a furnace of radiance. The demon spirit was obliterated before it could even scream, its silver tendrils burning away into dust motes. Sparks hissed through the air, leaving behind only the smell of ozone and the faint crackle of static.
Liam lowered his arm. The cannon braced to his wrist folded neatly away, vanishing back into the dimensional slot of his bracelet.
Another wonderful use of the bracelet: a four-dimensional storage box. Just as Zero's transformation glasses were hidden in his bracelet, Liam's bracelet also had a storage function.
He glanced at the Wizard. "Sorry — what was it you were saying?"
The Wizard, frozen mid-speech, closed his mouth. The fire-and-brimstone declaration he had been summoning bled into silence.
The entire mood he'd been weaving collapsed in on itself, leaving only awkward quiet.
"…Hmph," the Wizard muttered finally, straightening with wounded dignity.
Liam felt a little Awkward stealing a kill from a Old Man.