“She came at me with lethal intent, so I did the same,” Diana said coldly, leaping back. “She bit off more than she could chew. And I don’t like letting threats linger.”

Clone Max tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I guess we’re alike in that aspect. But let’s not pretend—it wasn’t just survival. You had the power to suppress her, subdue her… but you went for the kill. Straight for the neck. Beheaded her.”

He took a slow step forward, voice mocking. “And then you wore her tiara like a trophy. That, Princess, is what broke Arthur. He might’ve had you on the side, but he loved his wife.”

Diana’s eyes blazed with fury. “Watch your words, or I’ll cut out that tongue.”

Clone Max laughed darkly. “I thought we already established—that’s beyond your power.”

She lunged in a blur, sword swinging—but he sidestepped with ease, seized her wrist, and in one fluid motion, conjured a black chakra rod and drove it into her abdomen.

Diana gasped—blood spurting from her mouth—just before Clone Max’s knee smashed into her chin, sending her crashing to the ground.

Before she could move, he conjured more black rods, impaling her hands and pinning her to the war-torn earth. Steam and chaos surrounded them, but in that moment, all was still.

He looked up and smirked.

“Ohh, how nice of you to join us again… King Arthur. I thought you’d be out for a little bit longer.”

“I will not fall… not until all surface dwellers and that witch are eliminated,” Arthur growled, limping forward. His right arm hung mangled at his side, his trident awkwardly clutched under his armpit as it dragged across the dirt.

Clone Max turned slowly, an amused glint in his eye.

“Big words for a man who was knocking on death’s door a few minutes ago. I must’ve rattled something loose in that thick skull of yours—maybe even a little common sense. Because if I were you, I’d have turned tail the moment I had the chance. Though… I doubt you’d have gotten far.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

Max tilted his head. “I’ve answered far too many questions today already. But here’s one I would have answered, had you asked: ‘What am I going to do with you now?'” He paused, a dark grin forming. “But since you didn’t ask… I’ll tell you anyway. I’m going to kill every last one of your kin.”

Diana opened her mouth to speak—”Do your worst—”—but was cut off by Clone Max stomping his foot down hard on the back of her head, slamming her face into the ground.

Arthur roared and surged forward, gripping his trident, hoping to strike Max while his attention was diverted—

—but thick, thorny vines erupted from the earth, coiling around his legs and torso, halting him mid-charge.

“All you had to do… was keep quiet,” Clone Max said coldly.

He walked up to Arthur, summoned a black rod from his sleeve, and plunged it into the Atlantean’s shoulder. Arthur let out a sharp grunt of pain. Without pause, Max swept his leg forward and kicked both his knees in with brutal precision. Arthur screamed, finally collapsing.

“This should have been a war between Atlanteans and Amazons,” Max hissed, crouching down to meet Arthur’s gaze. “But no… you dragged innocent people into it. Millions are dead. And as we speak—you bastard—you’re planning to nuke the entire continent.”

Max then walked over to Diana, staring down at her beaten face. Her lip was split, blood dripped from her nose and forehead, her eyes dazed but defiant.

“I blame you more than anyone for all of this,” he said coldly.

Without hesitation, he pulled out a kunai and stabbed it into both of her calves. She cried out in agony.

Then, methodically, he removed the black rods from her pinned hands. Blood pooled beneath her, but he showed no care or concern. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her to her feet—barely—and began dragging her toward Arthur.

The vines holding Arthur suddenly receded, slithering back into the ground as if obeying an unspoken command. Max reached down and seized Arthur by his hair as well.

Dragging both of them behind him, like trophies of war, Max clone one stepped outside—toward whatever horror came next.

Meanwhile…

Barry and Thawne blurred across the battlefield, exchanging furious blows. The air cracked with the force of their speed, but eventually, Thawne gained the upper hand. With a wicked grin, he materialized behind Barry and drove a jagged metal pole through his thigh.

“AAARGH!” Barry screamed, falling to one knee.

“You know what’s beautiful about all this, Barry?” Thawne said, crouching beside him with smug satisfaction. He gestured to the chaos around them—the fires, the ruined cityscape, the bloodied heroes. “This is all you.”

He stood up and chuckled darkly. “And that orange-masked freak—Tobi, was it? He’s not holding back. Not at all quite a the person or your side ,powefull too.”

Thawne leaned closer, voice dripping venom. “You could’ve done anything. Stop Hitler. Prevent every world war. Save JFK. But no… You chose Mommy.”

Barry looked up, breathing heavily, pain and guilt mixing in his eyes.

“In the most selfish act imaginable, you broke the timeline to save one woman. Your mother,” Thawne spat, punctuating it with a vicious kick to Barry’s gut.

Barry collapsed.

But before Thawne could land another blow, something crashed into the ground with a thunderous impact.

BOOM.

Dust flew everywhere. Max had landed.

“You shouldn’t have killed his mother,” Max said, his voice low, dark, and venomous. “None of this would’ve happened, you red-eyed bastard.”

Max’s hands flew into a hand seal, chakra bursting from his body like a storm.

“Wood Style: Wood Dragon Jutsu!”

Behind him, the ground split open as a massive wooden dragon erupted, roaring as it lunged at Thawne.

Thawne zipped away, the dragon tearing after him in hot pursuit. As it closed in thawne changes direction heading towards them Max seeing this released the jutsu—the dragon collapsed into rubble and smoke, kicking up a cloud of blinding dust.

Thawne grinned. “Gotcha.”

He sprinted through the cloud and landed a brutal punch to Max’s face, cracking a piece of his mask. But before he could retreat, wooden spikes shot out from Max’s body, nearly impaling him. A few grazed his cheek and abdomen, tearing his suit.

Thawne skidded to a stop a distance away, breathing hard, blood trickling from his face.

Max straightened up, his chakra flaring again. He reached up and touched his broken mask. A sharp fragment had shattered from the side, exposing half his face.

Now, one eye stared out from the original eye hole… and the other burned through the broken section—revealing a cold, unblinking Sharingan.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance. With a swift motion, he unclasped his cloak and folded it neatly, placing it on a nearby broken pillar.

“Damn thing was custom-stitched,” he muttered. “Tailor charged me a fortune.”

Behind him, Barry limped slightly as he stood, still favoring his injured leg.

“So… what’s the plan?” Barry asked, wiping blood from his chin.

Max glanced over his shoulder. “A sneak attack won’t work. He’s too fast, too twitchy.”

“So?”

Max turned fully, chakra already humming around him like a second skin. “So we go full offensive. No holding back. Keep up.”

Barry smirked faintly. “I should be saying that to you.”

Max didn’t bother replying. He vanished in an instant, the ground where he stood shattering from the force of his departure.

Barry’s smirk widened. “Showoff.”

And with a crack of lightning, he launched forward after him—both of them rushing into the fray where Thawne was already preparing to tear them apart.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep