The night cracked apart with shrieks. From the Frostbearer's chest poured its fragments—shapes caught between mist and flesh. Some crawled on limbs too long, dripping frost like blood. Others unfurled wings of ice, beating storms into the streets. Each carried the same glow in its chest: runes pulsing, alive.
The League moved instantly. Superman smashed through the first wave, his fists tearing through ice and shadow. Lantern spread a dome over fleeing civilians, his constructs hammering at the winged things overhead. Flash blurred between the ground-born creatures, disarming claws before they could strike.
Wonder Woman held the line, shield braced, sword flashing arcs of light. Every strike she made shattered one creature—but for each that fell, two more slipped free of the giant's mist.
Oblivion entered the storm without rush. His steps left no sound on the ice, his coat trailing faintly like smoke. One blade cut upward, cleaving through a creature's chest. The other severed a limb before it could reach Lantern's exposed flank.
His eyes flicked to the rune glowing inside the fragment's chest before it died. Anchors again. Born from the same core. Destroy the rune, the body falls apart.
The next came from above, jaws wide with rows of frost-shards for teeth. Oblivion moved sideways, let it fall, then pinned its head to the street with a clean thrust. He pulled the blade free and turned as though nothing had happened.
To the League, it looked like improvisation. To Oblivion, it was simply recognition.
The Frostbearer roared, voice shaking the foundations of Gotham's towers. Ice surged across the street, freezing everything it touched. Cars cracked open. Streetlamps burst.
Superman barreled into the giant again, pushing it back into the center of the street. "Hit it with everything!"
Wonder Woman's blade met its arm, slicing deep, but the wound froze over instantly, closing in seconds. Lantern's constructs wrapped around its throat, glowing bright, until the frost shattered them like glass.
Batman's voice pressed through the comms. "It's adapting. We're losing ground."
Oblivion's tone cut across the chaos, calm and low, yet every word audible. "You can't wear it down. It feeds on resistance. Every strike is fuel."
The League glanced his way, but his gaze stayed locked on the Frostbearer. His eyes tracked the runes, the glow shifting along its form. That's the tether. Cut the chain, the body collapses.
The ground split again. More fragments clawed their way out, hissing, whispering.
"The ghost… the ghost cages all…"
Oblivion's grip tightened. The creatures weren't wrong. He had caged things like this before—things too stubborn to die.
Flash blurred beside him, panting. "You've got some kind of plan, right? Please tell me you've got one—"
Oblivion didn't look at him. "Plans are for the uncertain. I already know where to cut."
And then he moved.
He cut through the swarm like a silent storm, blades flashing with precise arcs. Each strike drove into glowing runes, silencing fragments instantly, while the League struck at limbs and torsos. His efficiency made theirs look frantic, almost wasteful.
But the Frostbearer's power only swelled. The runes along its chest burned brighter, mist thickening, the air so cold that even Superman's breath frosted as he flew.
Lantern grunted, straining against the weight of ice reforming around his constructs. "We're not stopping it!"
Oblivion landed lightly on a broken slab of ice, eyes fixed on the core pulsing inside the giant's chest. For the first time, faint light reflected in his gaze. Not fear. Not even urgency. Calculation.
"This isn't the end," he murmured, voice almost lost in the roar. "The real form hasn't shown yet."
The Frostbearer raised both arms, and the street cracked open, a frozen chasm tearing through Gotham as more shadows began to climb free.
The battle had only just begun.