"Oliver Queen."
Deadman spoke the name of his successor.
The man who now stood within the temple, accepting Rama Kushna's request to become the new Deadman, was Green Arrow, a man who had already fallen at Adrian's hands.
Oliver held Deadman's fading hands, sorrow flickering across his face. "My abilities may be limited, but I will never dishonor your name."
Deadman's upper body began to dissolve. With a final glimmer of hope in his eyes, he asked, "Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Find Jim Corrigan. He is central to all of this."
Deadman's voice weakened, yet his resolve remained. "And tell Batman I am leaving ahead of him. I wanted to stand beside him and see this war through, but I cannot. Still, remember this, we will win, no matter the cost."
Relief softened his expression. He tightened his grip on Oliver's hand, then faded completely, his body dissolving into a wisp of smoke that vanished into the air.
Oliver stared at his empty hands. "He is gone."
"This was always his fate," Rama Kushna said, her gaze steady. "Death is not always the end one fears."
Oliver clenched his fists. "We all fear it. Even now, I remember the moment I died."
His voice hardened. "It was Adrian before, and it is Adrian again. Anyone who stands against him ends the same way."
"He seeks to project his pain onto the world," Oliver added.
Rama Kushna studied him. "And you, Oliver Queen? What path will you choose? Will you remain the man who fought for justice in Star City?"
Oliver shook his head, uncertainty clouding his face. "I do not know. I am Deadman now. I do not even know how I should exist among the living."
He looked down at his translucent form. "Star City no longer needs me. I enforced order through force, fought criminals, ensured justice was carried out. I tried to stop the city from decaying."
His voice lowered. "Now the city has reached a kind of peace, even if it came at a cost. And me? I am no longer part of it."
Rama Kushna did not answer immediately. Instead, she turned her gaze toward the night sky beyond the temple.
High in the Himalayas, the air was clear, and the stars shone with piercing brilliance.
"The human soul begins like that sky," she said. "Pure and unclouded. It reflects truth without distortion. When a soul is untouched, it carries all the answers it needs."
Her voice softened. "Yours has returned to that state. Close your eyes and listen to it."
Then her expression shifted.
"As for Adrian… even I cannot fully understand him."
Oliver frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The soul is traceable. It exists within the universe, shaped by it. But his… does not belong here."
She spoke carefully. "It is as though his soul originates from somewhere beyond this reality."
Oliver hesitated. "He and Clark Kent are both from Krypton."
"You are confusing body and soul," Rama Kushna replied. "His body may be Kryptonian. His soul is not."
A hint of concern crossed her face. "An unbound soul can be dangerous. It may reshape the very way humanity understands existence."
Oliver exhaled slowly, absorbing her words. He had always viewed Adrian as ruthless, but this was something far more unsettling.
"Then who can understand him?" he asked.
"There may be one."
Oliver looked up. "Who?"
"Trigon's daughter."
Meanwhile, in Smallville, Adrian pushed open the farmhouse door, his voice tense as he spoke into the communicator.
"There is still no trace of Rachel?"
A full day had passed. If she was not found soon, Martha would be devastated, and Adrian would not forgive himself.
Clark was scouring the country from the sky. Lois coordinated efforts alongside the Justice Society. Sinestro interrogated captured rebels for information. As for the Spectre, he had left on his own business.
The farmhouse was dark. Martha was not home.
Heavy clouds smothered the moonlight, leaving the room in near-total darkness.
Adrian's eyes swept across the space, a faint suspicion forming.
Then it came.
A sharp gust of wind cut through the silence.
A figure lunged at him.
Adrian stepped back, deflecting the strike with ease. He had already identified the intruder and knew there was no real threat.
The attacker shifted tactics instantly, turning a failed strike into a palm thrust aimed at his chest.
Adrian caught her arm before she could apply force.
She twisted, her body fluid and controlled, slipping free with a technique that made her limbs feel almost boneless.
They separated briefly before she closed the distance again.
A precise high kick cut toward his shoulder.
Adrian raised his arm and blocked it effortlessly. Then he moved to grab her.
She retreated, silent and agile, landing lightly before evading his next attempt.
He could have caught her instantly with his speed, but he held back, matching her pace instead.
She adapted just as quickly, reading his movements, evading with feline precision.
Then she struck.
Her hands locked onto his leg, redirecting his balance. She moved in close, her shoulder driving forward as she executed a flawless takedown.
Adrian hit the carpet.
"Not bad," he said, his tone relaxed. "You have kept up your training."
"Is that all I get?" she replied.
Her legs coiled around him, locking him into a tight armbar. Her control was precise, her strength undeniable.
"Selina," Adrian said evenly, "are you breaking into my home for sport now?"
Catwoman's voice carried a hint of irritation. "I thought you would be happy to see me."
"If you wanted a proper welcome, you could have asked."
She tightened her hold slightly. "This is your punishment. You said I was your eyes in Gotham. Yet you disappeared."
"You could have contacted me," Adrian replied.
Then he exhaled softly. "Besides, I am not fond of being pinned."
In an instant, his body shifted.
His restrained arm slipped free. His core tightened as he reversed their positions with controlled force.
A second later, Selina was beneath him, her wrists pinned.
"This is more to my liking," Adrian said.
Moonlight filtered through the clouds, illuminating her face.
Her short black hair framed sharp, confident features. Her eyes held both defiance and amusement.
She looked up at him, completely unbothered.
"What?" she said, a faint smile forming. "Have you forgotten what I look like?"