"
The ripple Avon had created in the astral plane didn't stop at the edge of magic. It tore across realms—through time-tangled dimensions, across the veils of gods and monsters, down to the deepest roots of reality itself. The echoes of his howl—defiant, primal, infinite—reached the ears of beings who had long since stopped listening to mortal affairs.
Somewhere beyond mortal comprehension, the Phantom Stranger stood at the edge of a crumbling dimension, his ever-composed form bathed in a dying starlight. His expression was unreadable beneath his wide-brimmed hat, but his hand tightened around his cane as he watched the astral disturbance. The chain of fate around his wrist rattled faintly—an omen.
"He's begun," the Stranger murmured, not to anyone in particular but as a warning to the cosmos itself. "The beast is no longer caged."
---
Back on Earth, within the fortified walls of the Tower of Fate, the aftermath of the failed containment lingered in every flicker of light and silent breath. Zatanna had arrived moments after the collapse, only to find her father slumped against the wall, his magical reserves nearly drained. Doctor Fate hovered in the air, his helm dim and silent.
"You tried to bind him," she said, her voice caught between awe and fear. "You all did."
Zatara coughed, his voice hoarse. "We underestimated him, Zatanna. He is not like the others. He is not just strong—he learns. He adapts. He… grows."
"He's like magic's anti-thesis," she muttered, stepping toward the shattered ritual circle. The arcane marks on the floor were still smoking. "A sponge that drinks from every spell he faces. That shouldn't be possible. Magic resists corruption. It fights back."
"It did," Zatara replied gravely. "It lost."
Doctor Fate's voice finally rumbled forth, slow and pained. "He does not corrupt magic. He consumes it. He changes with it. Every attempt to bind him feeds his power. And now... the mystical balance is tipping."
Zatanna turned to them both, alarm flashing in her eyes. "So what do we do?"
The helm of Nabu pulsed weakly. "We don't. We warn the others. We prepare… for war."
---
In a monastery atop the Himalayas, shrouded by snow and silence, Jason Blood dropped to one knee. The strain of Etrigan's defeat echoed through his soul, each punch Avon landed replaying in his mind like crashing thunder. Sweat beaded on his brow.
"He feasts upon our flames," Etrigan snarled inside his thoughts. "A beast not born of mortal shame. A soul so vast, it mocks all names."
Jason grimaced. "Then he is a threat beyond even your hatred."
"He is not foe," Etrigan hissed. "He is… evolution. Unchecked. Unbroken. Unbound."
Jason stared at the sacred fire burning before him. For centuries he had housed a demon—suffered for the sake of a greater purpose. But now, even that ancient pact seemed small.
---
Elsewhere, far removed from the concerns of man, Olympus stirred.
Within the throne room, the gods of antiquity debated. Hera stood by a golden brazier, watching the flickering images of the astral battle.
"He grows bolder," she said, the silk of her gown barely whispering as she moved. "Stronger."
"His aura touches realms meant only for gods," Hermes added, appearing in a flash of light. "He walks between Order and Chaos as if they were rivers beneath his feet."
"His presence disrupts the Fates themselves," Athena spoke with sharp precision. "The threads of destiny now tremble when they cross his path. They cannot bind him."
Zeus finally raised a hand, thunder curling around his fingers. "If the mortal realm cannot contain him, then we must. Prepare the Champions. And summon Diana. This beast once left Themyscira in peace—he may yet heed her words."
Hera's lips tightened. "And if not?"
Thunder cracked like judgment. "Then we will remind him of what it means to challenge gods."
---
In the Watchtower, the air was tense. The Justice League had seen the footage—recorded not by science, but by magic itself. Even Superman looked uneasy.
"He tore through Fate's strongest bindings like they were cobwebs," Flash muttered, arms crossed tightly. "Even I felt that backlash, and I wasn't even there."
"He's evolving," Superman said quietly. "He's not just strong anymore. He's something else. He's… becoming something else."
"And how do you stop something that turns your attacks into fuel?" Green Lantern John Stewart asked, arms folded.
"You don't," Batman said from the shadows, stepping forward. "You survive it. And then… you plan."
"Got a contingency yet?" Green Arrow quipped, only half-joking.
Batman didn't respond immediately. His gaze flicked toward the screen where Avon's final words echoed through the void. Let the next round begin.
His fingers tightened.
"I have ideas."
---
Far from Earth, in the deep folds of space, a being stirred. His body made of stars, his mind vast beyond comprehension. The Spectre, Spirit of Vengeance, opened his eyes in the cosmic ether.
"A force unchecked walks the worlds," he rumbled, his voice like collapsing galaxies. "One not bound by sin or virtue—but by instinct."
He turned his gaze toward Earth. "Will he become a god… or a destroyer?"
---
Meanwhile, at the heart of a ruined forest deep in Eastern Europe, Avon emerged from a smoldering portal of crackling magic, stepping into the mortal world once again. The trees around him withered slightly as the aura he carried pulsed outward. Magic residue clung to his fur, still sizzling with absorbed power.
He inhaled deeply. The smells of earth, blood, and life greeted him. Real, not abstract like the astral plane. His claws flexed as he rolled his shoulders, muscles still humming from battle.
"Home," he growled with satisfaction.
He was changed. Taller, broader, his fur streaked with flashes of purple and gold where magic had embedded itself into his essence. His aura no longer just burned—it sang, resonating with power that whispered to the universe itself.
From the shadows, movement. A small band of mystical creatures—wraiths and spell-bound beasts—approached warily. They bowed their heads low, submissive.
Avon looked at them and saw not enemies, not prey—but pieces.
"You feel it, don't you?" he spoke, his voice rough like gravel and thunder. "The shift. The old order is crumbling. I'm not just a weapon anymore."
He raised his hand, and his aura flared. The creatures whimpered, then knelt fully.
"I am the next step."
And deep inside, the beast within howled its approval.
---