Sorcerer in DC Chapter 112 - 111

Rain pounded down on as I fled, tearing through the landscape under the protection of Inverse, my heart skipping a beat in excitent. I'd forgotten how good rainwater and cold air felt, even though I was technically experiencing it at over two thousand miles per hour thanks to my recent upgrades and Reinforcent.

I banked left and stopped by a fast-flowing river, diving headfirst into it to wash off the gri before surfacing again. The river led to a small rural town in the Canadian countryside, which surprised —if only slightly. I slipped into so baggy training clothes and squeezed into my boots before stepping into town.

My first stop was the local thrift shop. The residents eyed in my peculiar ensemble: a shirt several sizes too tight for my six-one fra, and a pair of joggers that only reached my knees. I picked out several shirts in the largest sizes they had—anything that fit.

I grabbed a few jackets, boots, jeans, underwear, and other essentials before heading to the register. The girl behind the counter went ashen white when she saw . She trembled. I could almost taste her fear.

"I-Is that all?" she asked.

"Yes," I said with a plain smile, which only made her more afraid. I resisted the urge to wince. The red eyes weren't exactly reassuring. She was just a kid. I plucked a pair of shades from the counter as well.

"You take Arican dollars?" I asked, producing three hundred-dollar bills.

She nodded vigorously. I dipped out before anything else could go wrong and ducked into an alley. It was deserted, with no visible caras or signs of life. I changed quickly, slipping into jeans, a T-shirt, and a bomber jacket, all while keeping my sphere of perception extended.

Sobody stomped into the thrift store monts after I left, and another presence was quickly approaching the alley. I was fully dressed before he reached and had him pressed into the concrete across town before he could blink.

He was a fairly muscular Black man with a bald head and a wedding band on his finger—unassuming, but definitely not local.

"Luthor is tracking . How?" I demanded.

"P-please. I was trying to get to the store. Don't hurt ."

I ripped an earpiece from his head and snatched his gun. "Try again."

He tried to pry my leg off, but I increased the pressure, cracking a rib. "My patience isn't what it used to be," I warned him. "I'll only ask once more. There are likely dozens of you crawling around this little town."

The man gasped, his face turning blue. "Alright! Alright! Luthor tags all of his experints. Bone implant. He drills a hole in your femur and heals over it."

"Any backups?" I pressed.

"No. No!" he insisted, but I hardly believed him. I grabbed his hand and twisted, snapping it in the wrong direction while covering his mouth before the scream could escape.

"Are you sure?"

"I swear! I swear. Check my coat. It has my tracker."

I did as he asked and found his cellphone. An app was open, displaying a blinking icon that pointed directly to my location.

"Which leg?"

"The left."

I shut my eyes briefly and searched through the bone with my mutations. It took a mont to find the chip, but once I did, I expelled it from my flesh. It was pill-shaped, with a small blinking light at the center. I crushed it and watched my tracker vanish on the app.

Then, on a whim, I scanned the bone surrounding my brain stem for an implant—an electrocution failsafe, just like Priya had threatened with during my first day at the lab. I suspected it had been crushed during my tamorphosis, which might explain why they hadn't tried to shut down since the escape.

Still, the tracking component might have remained operational. After all, what kind of mastermind didn't tag his valuable test subjects?

I was right. It took so effort this ti—I had to crack open my skull and give myself minor brain damage, which I healed with Reverse Cursed Technique. The implant was the size of a large seed. I snapped my stalker's neck and sent both him and my tracker into Cursed Inventory.

I rifled through the app, checking for a secondary tracking signal but found none, then drew up a map and set a course for the Arican border.

At my speed, I was only a few hours away. I sent the phone into my Cursed Inventory, then relocated to a quiet patch of forest. I took a mont to rest and load up on carbs for the journey ahead, eating through what remained of my food reserves—juice, pre-packaged sandwiches, burritos, and snacks—moaning with every bite. I'd forgotten how good regular food tasted.

They'd only fed gruel, water, and tough steak without condints. Cruel and unusual punishnt, considering everything else they'd put through.

I took off again, hitting near Mach 2, and slowed down when I began experinting with my mutations—the sa ones that had helped win that fight so quickly. I scoured my bones, muscles, and organs for any other trackers, keeping at it for hours before stopping in a wooded area off the highway, minutes from the border.

Finally, I opened my status screen.

Congratulations. You've reached Lv. 39.

50 CE | 50 Free Points

5 VIT | 1 AGI | 1 STR | 2 PER | 4 END | 1 CE

Domain Amplification has reached Lv. 5.

Inverse has reached Lv. 9.

New Shadow Style has reached Lv. 8.

Huh. It was more or less than I was expecting, considering the fight I'd just had.

I was one level away from Special Grade. I wondered what kind of boost would co from the promotion. I had a nagging feeling it would be underwhelming. Tyler wasn't in the driver's seat anymore.

The levels were going to co harder now, but I wasn't worried. That was what training was for.

I settled down on a chair I pulled from Cursed Inventory, producing Adrian's twisted arm and Misha's shattered body. It was as good a ti as any to finish the assimilation.

My stomach flipped at the thought of eating them. Even after everything I'd put my body through recently, cannibalism still felt like a step too far.

Too bad. I needed the power.

With a deep breath, I buried whatever reservations I had deep, deep down and tore off a digit from both dead sorcerers before popping them into my mouth.

If only I had the body control to deactivate my taste buds. Note to self—sothing to work toward.

I felt the bony digits slide down my esophagus and splash into my gut, where my Cursed Energy gathered. My body began to process them imdiately. In a few hours, once the digestion was done, I'd have Blood Manipulation and Ice Formation added to my Copy Technique.

With a pulse of Cursed Inventory, I banished what was left of my al and composed a text on a burner phone to the Young Justice League's private line:

I escaped. Don't ask how, and don't look for .

I've tagged the coordinates of the LexCorp facility I escaped from.

It's a house of horrors. Luthor had clones of human mbers of the Justice League in there, as well as various sorcerers, and several iterations of Superboy and .

Do with that information what you will.

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