Bardi's deep eyes gleamed with a faint smile as he held the green-bladed saber effortlessly between his steel-like fingers.
This was the saber that had once taken Deathstroke's eye, a wound that had never healed.
"The other eye," Bardi said, his voice calm yet laced with a dangerous edge, "don't you want it?"
He stood like an immovable war spear, his white trench coat flowing elegantly, exuding a presence that was both regal and tyrannical. His smile was cold, sharp, and predatory, like a tyrannosaurus teasing its prey.
Deathstroke stood high on the windowsill, towering over Bardi. His lone eye burned with cold fury, and his imposing shadow stretched across the corridor, shrouding Bardi completely.
As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, the world fell into darkness.
The glowing embers of the sunset vanished.
The silence of twilight was broken only by the heavy air of hostility between the two figures.
Deathstroke's single eye gleamed with unrelenting murderous intent, his body blending seamlessly into the encroaching shadows.
Then he struck.
With a sudden burst of power, Deathstroke launched himself forward. His boots cracked the windowsill as he leapt, shattering the wall beneath him. Cracks spread like spiderwebs across the concrete, a testament to the force behind his movement.
Zheng!
A flash of cold steel sliced through the darkness, cutting the air with deadly precision.
Deathstroke's blade gleamed with malice, reflecting the faint arc of a smirk tugging at the corner of Bardi's mouth.
Bardi's fingers twitched. With a flick of his wrist, the green saber shot forward, piercing the air as it hurtled directly toward Deathstroke's remaining eye.
Deathstroke reacted instantly, his katana sweeping upward to deflect the dagger.
Clang!
The two blades collided with a force that reverberated through Deathstroke's wrist. His entire arm trembled as the impact carried through his body, tightening his grip on the hilt.
What incredible strength!
Even the force behind the flicked dagger was enough to make his movements falter. The sheer power was staggering.
For a brief moment, Deathstroke hesitated, his mind racing. Then, anger surged through him, drowning out his shock.
This man!
He aimed for his eye again, a deliberate insult. A cruel reminder of the humiliation he had suffered at Bardi's hands.
The memory of that day burned in Deathstroke's mind, the memory of the fight where Bardi had killed him and taken his eye. It was a darkness that still haunted him.
Fury ignited in Deathstroke's gaze. With renewed determination, he swung his katana once more. The blade, infused with all the strength in his body, nearly 30 tons of force arced toward Bardi's waist.
This was power far beyond what Bardi had displayed in the past. Deathstroke had grown stronger, honed himself for this moment. He was no longer the man Bardi had once defeated.
The blade howled through the air, a lethal strike aimed to cleave Bardi in two.
But as the sword neared its target, two fingers appeared in the darkness.
The same two fingers that had held the saber just moments ago, the index and middle fingers of Bardi's left hand met the blade head-on.
Suddenly, the overhead lights in the corridor began flickering on, one by one, illuminating the hallway in a slow, eerie sequence, like a scene from a horror film.
The light reached their position, freezing them in stark contrast.
Bardi's white trench coat gleamed under the fluorescent glow, its elegance unmarred as he stood calm and unshaken. His two fingers had effortlessly stopped Deathstroke's blade mid-swing.
Deathstroke's body was taut, his knees bent low as he poured every ounce of strength into his strike. His black body armor stretched tight over his bulging muscles, his veins pulsing with the effort.
But no matter how much strength he used, the blade remained motionless, trapped between Bardi's fingers.
Deathstroke's single eye widened in disbelief.
"Impossible!" he growled.
With the strength of nearly 30 tons channeled into his swing, even the strongest steel should have given way beneath his weapon. But now, the blade was held motionless, caught between two fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy.
The realization hit him like a blow.
The overwhelming dominance Bardi had displayed during their last fight in the underground research lab, it hadn't just remained the same.
He's grown even stronger.
A chill ran down Deathstroke's spine, spreading through his body like ice water. The fear he had suppressed, the shadow of death he thought he'd overcome, came rushing back.
It was the same fear Leon had felt when his hands failed to move Deathstroke's blade. That same knowledge of an unbridgeable gap, a difference in power so vast it defied logic.
Deathstroke knew he was outmatched.
His instincts screamed at him.
Without hesitation, he released his grip on the katana and leapt backward. His boots cracked the floor beneath him as he launched himself away, shattering tiles and denting the corridor walls.
He retreated without a second thought, his movements swift and decisive.
As he fled into the night, the wind whipped around him, catching the ribbons on his armor and sending them fluttering wildly. The chaos in his heart mirrored the turbulence of his retreat.
Mid-air, he twisted his body and hurled two grenades into the corridor.
Boom!
The explosion sent a thick cloud of white and green smoke surging through the hallway. The smoke, laden with a powerful biological anesthetic nerve gas, spread quickly, pouring from the shattered windows and billowing into the night sky.
Deathstroke had come prepared. He knew that ordinary explosives wouldn't work against Bardi. This gas was his contingency, designed to incapacitate rather than kill.
But even as he escaped, a sense of dread lingered in his heart.
Bardi's figure remained etched in his mind.
Is such strength even possible for a living being?
The corridor filled with the dense smoke, swirling like a ghostly mist. It climbed upward, spiraling into the sky.
Bardi walked out of the thick, white-green poisonous mist. With his current strength, simply holding his breath was enough to nullify the effects of the biological anesthetic nerve gas. His skin was impervious, rendering the poison useless against him. It posed no challenge whatsoever.
His eyes turned skyward, tracking the figure of Deathstroke as he fled through the air.
Bardi chuckled lightly, a cold and dangerous smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. But his eyes were devoid of humor—icy, piercing, and utterly terrifying.
Without hesitation, he leapt out of the swirling smoke, propelling himself into the air. The white-green mist spiraled around him as he ascended, his figure cutting through it like a blade.
His trajectory brought him directly above Deathstroke.
Bang!
Deathstroke's single eye widened in pure terror.
Bardi's boot slammed into his chest with the force of a falling meteor. The impact sent a violent shockwave through Deathstroke's entire body, rendering him numb and paralyzed. He had no chance of resisting.
As the crushing force spread through his frame, Deathstroke's expression twisted in panic and disbelief. The wind howled around them, but it wasn't the sound that made him shiver, it was the overwhelming realization that he was utterly powerless.
Bardi's strike was unrelenting, merciless. The air itself seemed to tremble as he drove Deathstroke downward, the sound of their descent growing louder and more ominous.
Boom!
The two hit the ground with the ferocity of a rocket crash. The neatly laid stone pavement cracked and caved in, forming a deep crater. Dust billowed up in thick clouds, obscuring the surrounding area.
As the debris settled, Bardi's figure came into view. His white trench coat fell neatly around him, the fabric brushing away the dust like it wasn't worthy of clinging to him.
Bardi stood tall, his piercing gaze fixed on the broken figure beneath him.
Deathstroke lay crumpled in the pit, his body contorted into a grotesque U-shape. His head and legs had momentarily bounced upward from the impact before slamming back down. His chest was completely shattered, the sternum collapsed inward. Blood filled his mouth beneath the mask, and his single eye fluttered weakly, struggling to remain open.
His body was utterly broken.
From the nearby biological laboratory building, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed. A group of armed security guards rushed out, weapons drawn. They were men from the Intergang and the Hundred, assigned to Bardi as guards.
Hearing the deafening crash, they had come to investigate.
As they approached, the dust cleared, revealing the crater and the white-clad figure standing at its center.
Their eyes widened in shock.
They froze, their gazes shifting from the shattered ground to the terrifying scene before them. Bardi stood over the defeated Deathstroke, a vision of power and dominance.
"What…?" one of the guards started to say, his voice trailing off in disbelief.
"It's none of your business," Bardi snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. "Get back to your posts and guard the door!"
The guards stiffened at his words, quickly lowering their weapons. Without another word, they retreated back to their positions, the look of awe still lingering on their faces.
Bardi turned his attention back to Deathstroke. Reaching down, he grabbed the broken man by the ankle.
Without even a hint of struggle, he began dragging Deathstroke's limp body across the ground, heading toward the laboratory building.
***
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