Ascension Code: Reborn in the DC Universe - Chapter 0114

Deep within his subterranean fortress, Erick sat in the spacious research room, an immaculate environment where the air hummed with the continuous low of quantum servers and the soft glow of holographic interfaces. The subtle metallic scent of ozone mingled with the clean aroma of cooled circuits. Now, his eyes fixed on the floating panels that orbited his body like digital constellations, he monitored every change, every pulse, every altered synapse.

The data danced in real time: heart rate optimized at 38 beats per minute, extremely high muscle density, operating at levels that defied conventional biology. A slow, satisfied smile curved Erick’s lips. The new acquisition—the synthetic-metamorphic organ integrated into his structure—functioned beyond the most optimistic projections. He tilted his head, feeling the warm flow of Venom coursing through his veins, a blue elixir that kept his body in a state of absolute physical perfection. At six feet three inches tall, with broad shoulders and muscles defined like plates of organic armor, he was the living embodiment of a predator designed to dominate.

The doctor’s calm, synthetic voice echoed through the speakers embedded in the curved walls, laden with an almost paternal pride. “Impressive, sir. We’ve truly reached a new level. The integration rates surpassed previous simulations by forty-seven percent. The organ didn’t just fuse; it evolved.”

Erick leaned back in the ergonomic black titanium chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was deep, confident, with a slight accent that blended forgotten heritages. “Thanks to you, engineer. And to Morgana, of course. The three of you managed to surpass my most ambitious expectations. This organ represents the next step. Without it, I would still be trapped within the limits of an unstable hybrid body.”

He remained motionless, letting the invisible sensors scan his skin. Everything was stable. Perfectly stabilized. The rejection rate was zero. Venom, that substance circulating in his arteries, acted as a perfect catalyst, keeping each cell in harmony. Erick took a deep breath, feeling the power pulsing in every fiber. “Truly impressive,” he murmured, more to himself than to the person he was talking to. “I feel that, with this new discovery, we are one step ahead of the approaching chaos.”

The doctor replied immediately, his voice echoing with clinical precision. “Indeed, sir. Apparently, our barriers are being broken one by one. The biological limits that once seemed insurmountable are now proving to be mere illusions.”

Erick’s gaze drifted to the main hologram in front of him. A myriad of floating windows displayed graphs, genetic sequences spinning in 3D, three-dimensional models of his own cellular structure, and, prominently, a dataset compiled by Megan on morphogenetic exercises. For over a month, since his initial transformation, he had dedicated hours each day to studying this ability: complete metamorphosis. It wasn’t simple. He wasn’t a pure Martian, nor an ordinary human. He was something new—an unstable fusion of Martian DNA, now enhanced by cutting-edge technology. The mutations went beyond expectations, creating a singular entity that defied all known classifications.

He extended his right hand, palm up, and concentrated. At first, nothing. Then, a subtle tingling. The skin of his palm began to ripple, as if something alive were trying to emerge from beneath it. His fingers slowly twisted, articulating in ways no human bone would allow. There was no pain—only intense pressure, as if he were molding hot clay with his mind. Dense green hairs sprouted, spreading like liquid fire across his hand and up his forearm. The texture changed: soft, resilient pads formed on the fingertips, resembling the paws of a large feline. Retractable claws, curved and sharp as adamantium blades, slid out with an audible click. His entire arm transformed: swollen muscles, lustrous fur, reinforced bone structure reminiscent of the powerful paw of a full-grown African lion.

Erick held the pose for long minutes. The effort was visible. Veins bulged on his neck, pearly sweat trickled down his forehead, and his face furrowed in maximum concentration. Every cell in the modified arm demanded conscious control, a symphony of neural commands not yet fully orchestrated. Finally, with a heavy sigh, as if releasing a weight of hundreds of pounds, he relaxed. The fur receded, the claws retracted, the skin returned to its normal tanned tone. The arm returned to its human appearance.

The doctor recorded the data accurately. “One minute and twelve seconds more than the last test, sir. Measurable progress.”

Erick flexed his fingers, testing the residual sensation. “But it’s not enough. In another universe, Beast Boy performs transformations like this with a simple thought. A blink of an eye. We need to discover why and, above all, how. I don’t accept limitations.”

“We’re already working on that, sir,” the doctor replied without hesitation. “Comparative analysis with Martian data, quantum simulations, and neural sequencing are underway.”

“Good,” said Erick, rising from his chair with fluid movements. “That’s all for today. We’ll continue the tests tomorrow. I want concrete results.”

He turned to the center of the room and pronounced the name clearly: “Natasha.”

Immediately, the medical holograms dissipated like mist in the wind. In their place, the luminous figure of Natasha materialized. A woman with fair skin, black hair cut in an elegant bob that framed a face with aristocratic features and penetrating green eyes. The projection was so realistic that one could almost smell the subtle perfume of her digital avatar. She inclined her head deferentially. “Sir?”

“Report,” Erick ordered, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest.

Several holographic screens expanded around him, forming a semicircle of information. Satellite images, intercepted transmissions, field reports, and global maps flashed in high resolution. Erick focused on the central screen. Natasha began her explanation, her voice clear and professional, extending for minutes in meticulous detail.

“Sir, apparently you were right from the start. The Injustice League is nothing more than an elaborate smokescreen. A facade to distract heroes and governments while something much larger, extremely dangerous, operates in the shadows. We have identified connections to hidden factions within international organizations, manipulation of financial resources in tax havens, and the movement of ancient artifacts carrying non-terrestrial energy signatures. The visible leaders are pawns. Behind them, there is a hierarchical structure that suggests coordination with entities from another world or parallel dimensions. Reports indicate that plans for large-scale domination are in advanced stages of preparation—from social engineering to biological weaponry capable of affecting metahumans.”

Erick listened in silence, his brow furrowed. He knew this all too well. The memories of his past life—they provided a context that no current information could replace. The DC universe was infinitely more lethal than it appeared. Dangers that seemed distant now closed in like a noose around the planet.

Natasha continued, her tone filled with genuine admiration: “It wasn’t easy, sir. Discovering this layer required infiltration of three levels of quantum cryptography and analysis of hidden data traffic. It was thanks to your prior information that I was able to map the patterns. This kind of recognition is truly sublime, isn’t it, sir?”

Erick nodded, satisfied, but didn’t relax. Natasha blinked at another series of screens. On them, a Black woman, robust in build and with generous curves, was captured by security cameras at a fortified government base. Tactical uniform, hard expression, surrounded by armed agents.

“The same dynamic is repeating itself here, sir. Task Force X has recently begun its operations. They have managed to form the core team: volatile but effective compositions in high-risk scenarios. Forced recruitment, control implants, and suicide missions are already underway.”

Erick tilted his head. “Any news about Deathstroke?”

Natasha shook her head negatively. “Apparently not, sir. He remains in a deep coma. The base where he is hospitalized has Omega-level security protocols. No remote or physical access is feasible at the moment. Organic firewalls and psionic containment fields prevent any penetration.”

Erick brought his hand to his chin, tracing his defined jawline as he thought. His golden eyes gleamed with cold calculation. “Perhaps this is the next mission I assign to Jade. Something to ponder over the next few hours.”

The conversation flowed to the final block of information. Natasha brought data from global sensors: “Regarding strange extraterrestrial activity, the number of cases is increasing exponentially. The sensors we have deployed in low orbit and at strategic points on the planet are capturing spikes of unidentified energy. Signatures that do not correspond to known Kryptonians, Tamaranians, or Martians. The energy spreads like an invisible web, concentrating in conflict zones, archaeological sites, and large urban centers. Incidents of sightings, abductions, and temporal anomalies have increased by thirty-eight percent in recent weeks.”

Erick absorbed every word. The weight of the information weighed heavily on his shoulders like a leaden cloak. He knew time was running out. The world around him teemed with threats: the Injustice League as a distraction, Task Force X as a tool for control, and alien forces approaching like a storm. His plans needed to be accelerated. Preparation for survival—no, for domination—allowed no delays.

He walked slowly across the room, his footsteps echoing on the metal alloy floor. Every muscle, every cell enhanced by Venom and the new organ, reminded him of the limitless potential he still needed to unlock. The incomplete metamorphosis was only the beginning. He imagined himself transforming completely: claws capable of tearing through titanium, fur that withstood energy blasts, forms that could mimic any living being or machine. Beast Boy did it effortlessly. He would do the same—and more.

“Keep monitoring everything, Natasha,” he finally ordered. “I want daily reports. And prepare a complete dossier on Deathstroke’s base. Jade may need… special incentives for this operation.”

Natasha’s projection smiled with absolute loyalty. “As you wish, sir.”

The holograms gradually dissipated. Erick remained alone in the bluish dimness of the room, staring at his distorted reflection on a polished surface. His six-foot-three frame, shaped by pain, science, and ambition, was the ultimate weapon he had forged. The DC universe was dangerous—more so than anyone could imagine. But he wouldn’t be prey. He would be the predator at the top of the food chain.

With one last glance at the faintly flickering residual data, Erick murmured to himself, “One step at a time. But quickly. Time is running out.”