The Earth did not tremble when Avon Von Deovola returned. It exhaled.
The moment the apex predator's paw touched the soil, the world shifted—subtly, invisibly, but profoundly. Leylines pulsed erratically beneath the surface, birds flew in scattered patterns, and magical wards long dormant suddenly activated. Every creature tied to mysticism or ancient lore felt it, like the primal howl of a god demanding recognition.
Avon emerged from the rift of the astral realm changed—no longer just a beast or warrior, but something transcendent. His aura had evolved into something more than crimson; it was a roiling storm of energy—chaotic indigo, blazing violet, and streaks of golden fury intertwined in harmony. His very presence disrupted enchantments and made the air hum with thick, electrified life. As he walked, plants subtly twisted toward him, sensing power. Wolves in distant forests threw back their heads and howled in response. He had become a living conduit of raw evolution.
In the shadowed corners of the world, those who had watched his battle stirred.
---
The Tower of Fate
Zatanna stood beside Doctor Fate, her hands trembling slightly. "He's back on Earth. I can feel the surge—like a spike in the magical index."
Doctor Fate's voice echoed from Nabu's helm, weary but resolute. "He returned stronger than before. Our battle did not stop him—it refined him."
"What do we do now?"
"We don't. We observe. The Council has chosen neutrality. For now."
---
Azarath – Plane of Souls
Raven sat meditating, her dark cloak wrapped tightly around her. But peace would not come. Her third eye opened involuntarily, flashing a deep red.
Her breath caught. Avon's presence struck her like a tidal wave of wild emotion—rage, pride, sorrow, and a terrifying joy.
"I felt him," she whispered.
Behind her, the air split open in streaks of burning red. Trigon's voice emerged from the infernal void. "So the apex awakens. That scent... potent. A creature even I would hesitate to corrupt."
"You will not touch him," Raven warned, standing.
Trigon chuckled, low and rumbling. "My daughter... I do not need to. He's far more dangerous untouched. Mark my words, Raven. If Avon chooses war, this plane will burn first."
She clenched her fists. For the first time in years, Trigon sounded amused.
---
Mount Justice
Miss Martian and Superboy stared at the monitor. The alert level was rising steadily.
"His aura is spreading across the Earth's metaphysical layer," Miss Martian said softly. "I've never seen anything like it; it spreads like a virus but doesn't harm the planet."
Superboy's arms crossed. "Do we call Batman?"
"He already knows," a voice said behind them. Nightwing entered, his face grave. "He's activated every contingency. But I don't think even Batman has a plan for this."
---
Themyscira
Diana stood at the cliff's edge, her arms folded as she watched the horizon shimmer.
He had touched Themyscira's leyline again, this time just by re-entering Earth. Even the Mother Box sealed under Themyscira responded, flickering with unreadable energy.
"He's not just stronger," she murmured. "He's changing the rules."
Queen Hippolyta approached. "You still care for him."
Diana nodded. "He carries war inside him, but he fights with honor. That kind of soul... changes the world."
---
Space – Warworld
Mongul sat atop his throne of bone and metal, surrounded by warriors bred only for death. His red eyes fixated on a single projection—Avon.
He watched the footage of the astral battle: Avon's feral roar shattering fate-bound sigils, his claws tearing through hellfire, his body absorbing and re-forging magic as if it were muscle fiber.
"This creature...," Mongul mused, "... is worth conquering."
The Warworld rumbled with the activation of ancient thrusters. He rose, massive fists clenched.
"Prepare the engines. We travel to Earth. I will see this beast with my own eyes—and I will break him."
---
Avon – Deep Forest, Scandinavia
The wilds were quiet. Not out of fear, but reverence.
Avon knelt by a river, cupping water in his clawed hand. The cool stream didn't hiss against his energy like it used to. Nature was adapting to him—or perhaps, he to it.
He stared at his reflection. His mane was longer, white-gold and majestic. His golden-red eyes shimmered with layered pupils—each trained for a different realm of combat. And beneath his skin, the power of the arcane shimmered like dormant flame. The Spoils of War had fully activated, it enhancing his body to remarkable degrees.
The spells from the magical council, their failsafes and seals—they were now part of him engraved under is skin as runes.
He could smell illusions.
Sense dimensional breaches.
Track souls across continents.
Even his tail had changed. No longer just an extension of his body, it moved with conscious thought, curling with martial precision.
He stood, stretching. His bipedal form shimmered as white energy danced across his muscles. Something within was always humming—growing, preparing. He no longer needed to train. He trained by simply existing.
A pack of wolves emerged from the trees. Not his creation. Wild-born. Yet they bowed, instinctively recognizing him as kin, as alpha.
He let them approach, and with a low growl, claimed them with The Bite—not to control, but to protect. The air shimmered as their bodies strengthened, enhanced by his presence. The pack was enhanced and allowed to thrive.
One wolf yelped, stepping aside as a portal split the air.
A cloaked figure emerged—hooded, face veiled by shifting darkness. Its voice echoed from both the air and the earth.
"Avon Von Deovola. The Astral Council watches."
Avon's eyes narrowed. "Then let them."
"You are a paradox. The Hunt incarnate. Magic, might, and monster. If your growth continues, reality itself may one day bend to your will."
"I do not seek to rule reality," Avon replied. "Only to master myself."
The figure paused. "That is precisely what makes you dangerous. You will be tested again. Soon."
The portal vanished, leaving only mist behind.
---
Batcave
Batman stared at the map of Earth. A web of crimson energy now spread across the globe, centered around the coordinates where Avon returned.
He pressed a button. Dozens of satellite readings appeared—Leyline fluctuations, seismic pulses, psychic waves.
"Alfred," he said without turning, "increase monitoring. He's waking something up—something older than gods."
"Very good, sir. Shall I prepare contingency protocol Black Claw?"
Batman paused. "No, he hasn't done anything to warrant that type of containment. Not yet. I want to see how far he'll go."
---
Back in the Forest
Avon stood amidst the new pack. His body still hummed with dormant energy, but his thoughts were clear. Clearer than they'd ever been.
The Hunt now had new targets. He could feel the looming presences: Trigon stirring in his prison, the whispers of Klarion in the void, and something monstrous approaching from beyond the stars.
He closed his eyes and marked them all.
Universal fact: Mongul. Gladiator. Tyrant. Planet-breaker.
Avon grinned, fangs bared.
He was being hunted.
Good.
Let them come.
---