THE DEATH KNELL-Chapter 36: THE LIQUID METAL OF THE OWL COURT

The amber gold of the Owl Court was unlike any substance found in nature. A transparent, colorless liquid metal, it constantly shimmered beneath a psychedelic silver halo, casting an ethereal glow that made it resemble the star-streaked heavens. In the main world, Batman had once unknowingly consumed it, unaware of its hidden properties.

This was one of the five mystical metals capable of transforming the Blues into a gateway—though the full implications of this were still unclear. Beyond that, amber gold possessed several unique magical properties.

First and foremost, despite its metallic nature, it had a sweet taste and could quench thirst like the purest of mountain spring water.

Secondly, its effects on the body were nothing short of miraculous. Drinking it regularly could slow the aging process, enhance physical strength, and even grant a minor regenerative factor—though its potency depended on the concentration. However, its most enigmatic trait was the hallucinations it induced, filling the mind with vivid, dreamlike visions.

Finally, in the hands of a skilled blacksmith, amber gold could be shaped and forged into weapons and armor of unparalleled craftsmanship. Its extreme ductility and plasticity made it invaluable for crafting, and it possessed a natural deterrent effect against supernatural beings such as ghosts, tree spirits, and werewolves. As an additive in armor, it could ward off magical attacks and even counteract curses.

However, only a select few had the knowledge to forge liquid metal. As far as Slade Wilson knew, the divine blacksmith Hephaestus and the cosmic Weaponer were the only ones who could manipulate such a volatile material. The forging process was beyond advanced—it was an art form bordering on the divine.

Despite this, Slade had little interest in replacing his current armor. His suit was already composed of promethium, a metal of equal mystery, reinforced with trace amounts of N-metal to enhance its resistance to magical forces. There was no need for a new set of armor when the one he wore was already more than sufficient.

His weapons, however, were a different story. The blades and firearms he carried were forged from conventional alloys. Ideally, they should also have been crafted from promethium, but for reasons unknown, the Deathstroke of this world had not ensured that his weapons matched the strength of his armor. That inconsistency bothered him, but for now, he would make do.

Squatting beside a fresh corpse, he studied its remains carefully. His immediate concern was whether the assassin's claws had any self-healing properties. If amber gold existed on this Earth, the Owl Court would undoubtedly have used it on their enforcers.

So far, no such enhancements were evident. That was promising.

Without hesitation, he planted a charge and detonated the body, reducing it to unidentifiable remains. Delaying discovery was the priority.

---

Tracking in the Rain

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Returning to the group, Slade glanced at his companions.

"We keep moving." His voice was low and measured.

Cindy sheathed her weapon with a casual shrug, as if she had already deduced Slade's plan. She had observed him long enough to know when he was gathering information, so she made a mental note of his findings as well.

Barbara, however, was more concerned about him. Her sharp gaze flickered to his waist armor, scanning for any signs of injury. Only when she saw nothing out of place did she allow herself to relax.

Meanwhile, Pete—well, Pete was failing spectacularly.

Slade's grenade had done its job, but a fragment of... something had landed directly on Pete's camera lens. The sight of an unidentifiable piece of organic matter had finally pushed him over the edge.

He doubled over, retching violently. Not just vomiting—he was crying while vomiting.

Beside him, Vic stood holding the camera, watching with an expression of resigned exhaustion. Her lips pressed together in a flat line.

"The Owl Court is here," Slade muttered. His eyes traced the landscape. "We don't have much time. We need to find the bat. Fast."

Lifting a gloved hand, he brushed off the white smudges on his armor before removing his helmet. The rain poured down, cool against his overheated skin. The lingering rush of combat, the sight of blood—he had let the excitement get to him. He needed to steady himself.

"The underground research facility..." Cindy began, scanning the ground. "We just need to find fresh tracks. A group of them. In this rain, no one can completely erase their footprints."

She clapped him on the shoulder, her armor slick with rain. "Let me handle it."

Slade exhaled slowly. He retrieved a cigarette from his belt, lighting it using the exposed interior of his helmet. He took a long drag.

"Fine. Lead the way. I need a minute to center myself."

Cindy gave him a sharp look. "Something's off with you."

He didn't reply.

She continued, voice matter-of-fact. "Bloodlust only spikes when the self-healing factor kicks in. That means your body is demanding more energy, converting it into an instinctual craving for blood and flesh. You might have been injured without realizing it. Something—inside you—was damaged."

Without waiting for permission, she reached up and pressed a gloved hand to his skull, feeling for fractures or swelling.

The metal plating of his mask was cold, but her touch was clinical.

Slade knocked her hand away. "I'm fine." He rapped his knuckles against his own chest and abdomen. "No pain. No wounds."

Cindy frowned but didn't argue. "That's what concerns me."

---

Unearthing the Past

Before anyone could respond, a scream tore through the air.

Pete.

Slade's pistol was in his hands in an instant, his aim sharp and precise, ready to fire—

Only to find Pete stumbling backward from a floating skeleton.

The storm had loosened the muddy ground, allowing erosion to reveal something ancient. A long-forgotten corpse had risen from its grave, buoyed by the water, its hollow sockets locked onto Pete's panicked face.

He shrieked like a child.

Vic, unimpressed, smacked him across the shoulder. "It's just a skull, Pete. Get a grip."

"W-what if it's haunted?" Pete whimpered. "What if—"

Slade resisted the urge to sigh. The man was nearly 6'4", weighed close to 330 pounds of muscle, and yet he was clutching his face like a terrified child. It was... a sight.

Vic, ever the realist, plucked the skeleton out of the water and turned it in her hands.

"See? No ghosts."

Pete took another step back, still eyeing the skull like it might jump at him.

Vic tossed the skeleton lazily over her shoulder, then suddenly perked up. "Hey, would you look at that—gold teeth."

Her expression shifted from boredom to pure delight. She swiftly pried the gold fillings free and pocketed them.

Slade watched as her blue eyes gleamed with newfound greed.

Pete's face was pale. "Wait—how did you even see that? I didn't see any gold—"

Vic winked. "Magic."

Pete swallowed hard, deciding it was best not to argue.

Slade merely shook his head. This team was absolutely ridiculous.

But there was no time for distractions.

Cindy returned from scouting ahead, her figure flickering in the rain like a phantom.

"I found the entrance." She nodded toward the distance. "But the path won't be easy."

Slade adjusted his grip on Barbara's wheelchair. "Doesn't matter. Once we're underground, things will get easier."

And with that, they pressed forward—toward the unknown.