Multiverse: Deathstroke-Chapter 467: Aquaman’s Joy Turns to Sorrow

Who'd buy that nonsense? A "textbook human"?

Since when did humans grow tentacles?

Stare.

Raven watched the scene unfold, intrigued by this new Deathstroke—specifically, his tentacle trick.

Rachel was a tentacle fan. She wanted to swap tips with Deathstroke about using them but felt too shy.

She was only comfy with close pals, and her "familiarity" with Deathstroke was the opposite kind.

So she nudged Wonder Girl to ask about the tentacles for her.

Wonder Girl, busy bandaging her wounds, stayed silent on the matter.

She'd heard Deathstroke ramble about "polymer nano-mechanical arms" or whatever, but in action, those tentacles felt alive—thinking, even.

Some unknown alien lifeform, totally different from the stuff Raven conjured with magic.

Plus, after that fight, they should all be catching a breather—even just a few minutes. Rest was critical.

Still, one thing bugged Wonder Girl.

Deathstroke had yapped a ton to Starfire but hadn't dropped a single word about the next step.

He'd thrown everyone off.

Still so cryptic, like he was always guarding against something.

But he wasn't Batman. Outside combat, he was chill, all smirks—no paranoid "everyone's out to get me" vibes.

Wonder Girl figured it might be her imagination. Deathstroke was too badass for persecution delusions, right?

Maybe she didn't know him well enough. Could mysticism be the secret sauce for miracles?

Cyborg reported to Deathstroke then—she'd cracked how to steer the ship. Advanced features needed more tinkering, but basic spaceflight was good to go.

Su Ming rubbed his chin, scanning the bridge, and snuffed his cigarette on the captain's chair armrest.

"Nice. Your next job: check the ship's comms, security cams, transmitters—everything. Root out any bugs or surveillance gear."

Seeing Cyborg's blank look, he added:

"I know you're clueless about alien tech. Take Nightshade with you. If anything even smells like a transmitter—picking up radio waves or magic vibes—rip it out. I've got a gut feeling someone's spying on us, eavesdropping, plotting to take us down."

Wonder Girl: "..."

She mentally flipped a table. If that wasn't paranoia, what was?!

Watching Cyborg trudge off, confused, Wonder Girl felt exhausted. Deathstroke was always a curveball—she couldn't keep up.

You'd think he'd head to Point A, but nope, he's at Z, totally off-script. Then when you expect Z, he ditches the alphabet for Greek or Egyptian runes.

She gave up guessing his moves. Whatever he ordered, she'd just do.

Over at Blood Reef, a battered Aquaman—face swollen and bruised—laughed his head off. Earthlings had finally vented some spleen.

Tidal Rage was indeed streaming the battlefield live to Aquaman via the ship's surveillance.

The plan was to torment him, make him watch his friends die, force him to howl and sob like a beast—letting her vent her pent-up fury.

A payback for what Poseidon and Arian had done to them, mirrored onto Earthlings.

But not long after the feed started, Aquaman's torment flipped. Tidal Rage meant to show the Titans getting crushed, toyed with by Aquaman (the sea god), only for Deathstroke to ambush him.

An ambush was whatever—Tidal Rage stayed calm then. Without the Tear of Extinction, no weapon could seriously threaten a sea god.

Elementalization was that OP. Just a basic perk of godhood.

But as time dragged on, her smirk faded. Aquaman, sprawled in filth, started snorting with laughter.

Too hilarious.

The aliens wanted him to suffer, watching his pals croak. Instead, they broadcast Deathstroke thrashing their sea god. Aquaman was over the moon.

If the setting weren't so grim, he'd crack open half a dozen beers—like watching a football game, sipping and cheering.

What a show. Especially when Deathstroke stripped the sea god bare with dual blades, humiliating him. Aquaman slapped his belly like a bongo drum.

This was Blood Reef's arena, mind you. He wasn't the only one catching the live feed—countless alien fish folk peeked from coral pillars and seaweed clumps.

Aquaman almost pitied the sea god. How do you even stay a deity after that? Might as well off yourself.

The once-rowdy arena fell dead silent when the sea god's naked form splashed across the giant water screen. Smarter fish folk bolted.

Seeing a god that disgraced? If you wanted to live, you'd run.

The dumber, honest ones dropped to their knees, tears streaming. Some gouged their eyes out, swearing they saw nothing.

Aquaman's mood soared. Sure, he was a prisoner, but seeing Earth still had hope cheered him up.

Then he watched Deathstroke zero in on the enemy's weak spot—that fish-tooth collar—and pivot to a new tactic. Aquaman nearly stood to clap.

Too bad Black Manta had beaten him senseless, and with his life force drained, he couldn't get up.

Still, he slapped the puddles on the ground, showing his respect.

He wasn't much of a king, but after all this time at Blood Reef, Earth's sea monarch had sniffed out some alien sea clan secrets.

That collar? It was a remote for controlling sea monsters.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

A magic doodad, really—Aquaman just didn't know the term. To him, it was like a toy boat controller.

The sea god used it to sic the Flood Demon on Earth, spewing magical seawater that turned Earth critters into his soldiers.

Only he could wear it. If it broke or he took it off, the Flood Demon would go rogue.

An uncontrolled Flood Demon became a Death Siren, its annihilation-charged water turning Earth into a dead pool like the sea god's homeworld.

But the alien sea gods wanted Earth's waters as their new crib.

No wonder the sea god freaked when Deathstroke went for the collar. Got beat down hard and had to bail through the Flood Demon's portal.

After that, Tidal Rage—still not giving up—kept glued to the screen, hunting for Deathstroke's weakness.

Aquaman saw it next: Deathstroke clocked that the ship held the last fish from the three sea gods' homeworlds. Using them as hostages, he neutered their massive fleet.

The sea gods' fish-transport sleeper ship became the Titans' and Shadowpact's HQ.

And their strongest fighter, the sea god, couldn't even touch Deathstroke. He could only watch Earthlings joyride their ship, strutting around space.

Aquaman laughed 'til his eyes vanished.

Deathstroke even seemed to have a sixth sense—caught the surveillance, kept key intel under wraps, mocked the sea gods sideways, and ordered Cyborg to sweep the ship's comms.

Tidal Rage's feed cut out then. Whatever happened on the ship next was a mystery.

Aquaman was in awe of Deathstroke. Though, beat to a pulp, all he could do was lie there.

The sea gods' plans, their counters—it was like Deathstroke had X-ray vision into their heads. Every move trashed their schemes. What could make Aquaman happier?

"You're enjoying this?"

Tidal Rage stared at Aquaman, expressionless, teeth grinding.

Aquaman nodded, smug as hell. "Damn right. You're all gonna flop, just like your sea god."

"You know that black-and-yellow human?" Tidal Rage stepped off her throne, leaning close.

"Yup. My pal. Justice League's pal." Aquaman, flat on the ground, puffed his chest, shining up the League's rep.

"Great. Guards—drag Earth's Aquaman off for interrogation. I want his weak spots: family, friends, fears—anything."

Tidal Rage summoned fish folk who hauled a stunned Aquaman away.

He was just talking smack! Torture him all they want—the answer's always "I don't know!" He barely knew the guy!

When "dunno" is the truth, the torture never ends...