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AND Fate/DC Universe: The Master
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"Can we trust them not to go rogue?"
Batman stood at the observation window, his cowled face turned toward the ranks of soldiers assembled below. Five hundred figures stood in perfect formation, their faces blank, their eyes glowing with the same dull light that pulsed from the rings on their fingers. They had been inmates once. Condemned criminals. People who had been scheduled to die.
Now they were weapons.
Zatanna stepped up beside him, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "Yes. The ring completely controls them. It isn't as strong as someone controlling it willingly, but we'll have to do." She paused. "The process of creating the rings is still too early. They're strong, but not as strong as the true power of the ring."
Batman was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Then send them out." He turned away from the window. "The fleet has already started to move again. It's time for our second line of defense."
The door opened behind them. Diana walked in, her armor still dusted with the remnants of the WarWorld's final moments, her expression carrying the weight of what she had just done.
"The loss of the WarWorld is a shame." She stepped up to join them at the window. "But I'm sure Jason will understand."
"Diana!" Zatanna spun toward her, eyes wide. "Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to relax?"
Diana's lips curved into a small smile. "And let you all have the fun without me?"
"You know," Harley said from somewhere behind them, her voice carrying its usual manic cheer, "even I'm not crazy enough to say that."
Batman didn't turn around. "We don't have time for this." His voice was flat, final. "Zatanna. Now."
Zatanna sighed. "Yeah, sure."
She raised her hands.
Magic coiled around her fingers, bright and crackling, spreading outward in waves that washed over the five hundred figures below. The rings on their fingers flared in response. The dull light in their eyes became something sharper, more focused. They moved as one....turning, stepping forward, lifting off the ground in perfect synchronization.
The Cursed Lantern Corps had been unleashed.
....
The Cursed Lantern Corps launched as one.
Five hundred figures shot into the void, their rings blazing with that strange gray-black light that marked them as something new, something unproven, something that had never been tested in battle. They moved with perfect synchronization, their minds linked through the rings' control, their wills subsumed into a single purpose.
Destroy the fleet.
The first wave of constructs materialized as they closed the distance—swords the size of buildings, shields that could block capital ship fire, bazookas that fired concentrated blasts of cursed energy. The lanterns spread out, surrounding the Darkseid fleet from every angle, their attacks raining down on the unsuspecting vessels.
The fleet reacted.
Point defense cannons swiveled, firing streams of energy that should have cut through the lanterns like paper. The constructs absorbed the hits. Shields reformed. The lanterns pressed forward, their weapons finding their marks.
A massive construct axe cleaved through the hull of a destroyer, splitting it in half. A volley of cursed missiles struck a cruiser's engines, sending it spiraling into its neighbor. Two ships collided, their hulls crumpling, their crews dying in the vacuum that followed. The lanterns moved through the chaos like a swarm of locusts, their attacks relentless, their coordination perfect.
Forty ships destroyed in the first wave.
The fleet's return fire intensified. Beams of concentrated energy lanced through the void, catching lanterns who had strayed too far from their formations. A dozen fell in the first exchange, their bodies disintegrating, their rings floating away into the darkness. But the survivors pressed forward.
Another twenty ships followed moments later. A battleship's bridge erupted, its command crew vaporized by a concentrated blast of cursed energy. Two more destroyers followed, their reactors breached, their hulls cracking under the pressure of internal explosions. The lanterns were doing what they had been designed to do.
On the command center screens, Batman watched. His face revealed nothing. But his hands tightened on the edge of the console.
Diana stood beside him, her eyes fixed on the battle. "They're doing it. They're actually doing it."
"Don't celebrate yet," Batman said.
A hundred lanterns swarmed a cruiser, their constructs tearing through its armor like tissue paper. They poured inside through the breaches, cutting down the crew, disabling the weapons, leaving the ship a dead hulk adrift in the void. They emerged moments later, already moving toward their next target.
The fleet was bleeding.
The order came from the flagship.
Darkseid's voice cut through the chaos, calm and absolute. "Release the Paradooms."
The fleet's hangar bays opened.
Hundreds of figures emerged—not the standard Parademons that had been seen before, but something new. Something worse. They were larger than the lanterns, their bodies covered in black armor that seemed to shift and ripple as they moved, pulsing with red veins of living energy. Their eyes burned with the same red light as their master's. Their claws were longer than a man's forearm, serrated and dripping with something that smoked in the vacuum. Their mouths were filled with teeth designed for tearing, rending, devouring.
They moved through the void like sharks through water.
A lantern saw them coming. He turned, raised his hand, conjured a shield. The Paradoom didn't slow. It crashed through the shield like it was made of glass, its claws finding the lantern's chest, tearing through armor and flesh and bone. The lantern's scream was brief—cut short as the Paradoom tore his ribcage open and reached inside, pulling out organs that still pulsed with life.
The Paradoom raised the heart to its mouth and bit.
Blood sprayed across the darkness.
Another Paradoom descended on a cluster of lanterns, its claws swinging in wide arcs, separating heads from bodies with casual efficiency. A lantern tried to conjure a sword—the Paradoom caught the blade, crushed it, and drove the shattered remnants through the lantern's throat. The body hung there, twitching, as the Paradoom moved on to its next target.
A third Paradoom grabbed a lantern by the legs, one in each hand, and pulled. The lantern's scream cut off as his body split down the middle, his two halves drifting away in opposite directions, his organs spilling out into the void.
The lanterns tried to regroup. Their constructs reformed—walls, barriers, weapons that had been effective against the fleet. The Paradooms tore through them all. A barrier that had stopped capital ship fire shattered under a single claw strike. A wall that had held against concentrated bombardment collapsed as a Paradoom crashed through it, its momentum carrying it into the lanterns behind it.
A lantern conjured a massive hammer, swinging it at an approaching Paradoom. The creature caught the head in one hand, crushed it, and drove its other hand through the lantern's chest. The claws emerged from the lantern's back, dripping with blood, holding a spine that had been torn free from the body.
The lantern's eyes went wide. His mouth opened. No sound came out.
The Paradoom pulled its hand free and moved on.
Another Paradoom descended on a lantern who had been trying to flee. It grabbed the lantern's head in both hands and squeezed. The skull collapsed inward like an eggshell, the lantern's eyes bulging, then popping, then gone. The Paradoom released the corpse and turned, already searching for its next victim.
A group of lanterns formed a defensive circle, their backs together, their constructs pointed outward. The Paradooms circled them like wolves, waiting for an opening. Then one moved—faster than the lanterns could track—and the circle collapsed. Claws found throats. Teeth found flesh. The lanterns fell one by one, their bodies torn apart, their blood painting the void.
One lantern, the last of his group, tried to flee. A Paradoom caught him by the ankle, dragged him back, and began to feed. The lantern's screams echoed through the void, cut short as the Paradoom tore out his throat.
On the command center, the screens showed everything.
Harley turned away, her hand over her mouth. Zatanna's face was pale, her eyes wide, her magic flickering at her fingertips as if she wanted to help but knew she couldn't. Diana's hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her jaw tight.
Batman watched.
His face revealed nothing.
The last lantern fell.
Of the five hundred who had launched against the fleet, only forty had managed to destroy their targets. The rest—the vast majority—were dead. Their bodies floated in the void, torn apart, devoured, their rings drifting beside them, their gray-black light extinguished forever.
Only forty ships destroyed.
The Paradooms spread across the battlefield, their work done, their hunger sated. They floated among the wreckage, among the corpses, among the debris that had once been a fleet of cursed lanterns. Their eyes glowed red, watching, waiting for the next order.
The rest of the fleet continued its advance toward Earth.
Batman's voice was flat when he spoke. "Third line of defense." He turned from the screen. "Send in word to Mazikeen"
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If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi!
AND Fate/DC Universe: The Master
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patréon at
"https://www.patréon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !