In truth, Thea had misjudged Oliver. The poor guy had been stranded on this godforsaken island for over a year — alone with Yao Fei and Slade, two cranky, middle-aged bachelors. Sure, Yao Fei had taught him some archery, but honestly, how much discipline could you expect from a young man bursting with energy and nowhere to put it?
Now that old Yao was dead and his beautiful daughter had taken over the training… well, let's just say Oliver's enthusiasm for "archery practice" had skyrocketed. The man had been starved for human contact — at this point, he'd probably find a wild boar attractive. A graceful, soft-spoken woman like Shado felt to him like divine mercy itself.
Earlier that day, the two of them had been "discussing life" by the lake — an enlightening experience that had rapidly moved from talking about arrows to demonstrating the bow's flexibility. Just when their "water" was about to "flow into the channel," Slade's shout echoed from the forest. Shado panicked, shoved Oliver off, and both of them rushed out half-dressed to investigate.
Oliver's mind was still clouded from the sudden interruption, nowhere near combat-ready. He pulled out a handgun and assumed what he thought was a professional stance, waiting for Slade's cue.
Slade, meanwhile, quickly gave them a tactical signal — a sharp hand motion to flank the enemy.
Thea, assessing them with a quick glance, had to hold back a laugh. Shado might be marginally stronger than a League of Assassins grunt, but Oliver? He was basically a walking liability. Still, three opponents surrounding her could become a nuisance if she let them coordinate — and Slade's battlefield instincts were nothing to scoff at. The man was a born tactician. If she gave him an opening, he'd make her pay for it.
She tilted her head, judging the light. Perfect — yin hour. My shadow glyphs are charged.
Rolling her shoulders, Thea smiled beneath the mask.
Before her stunned audience, a second figure stepped out from her shadow — identical in every detail, down to the faint shimmer in her eyes.
Oliver froze. "What the hell…"
Without a word, Thea tossed her bow to the clone and jerked her chin toward the other two. You handle those two.
The duplicate sighed, nocked an arrow, and loosed it toward Shado — fast enough to make the woman's hair whip back.
"Now then," said the real Thea, turning back to Slade with her sword ready. "Let's finish our dance."
Slade blinked, shaken but still functional. He'd seen plenty of strange things in his mercenary career, but this? "Metahuman?" he muttered, tightening his grip on his remaining blade. It was the only explanation that fit. Nobody just "trained" their way into having two bodies.
Thea didn't bother answering — let him guess. If Oliver or Shado asked, maybe she'd clarify. But this guy? Not worth it.
Slade fought like a cornered beast, each strike packed with brute power, but without the Mirakuru serum, he was still only human. Against Thea — a precision fighter whose movements were honed to lethal efficiency — he was being pushed to the brink.
His footwork faltered; his breath grew ragged. Every swing looked fierce, but his stamina was draining fast.
Thea, meanwhile, split a fraction of her attention toward the other side of the clearing. Her clone's arrows kept Shado completely suppressed — the only reason the woman was still standing was because the duplicate had been merciful.
Oliver, on the other hand, stood awkwardly with his pistol raised, utterly ignored. He glanced left, then right, unsure whom to shoot, and ended up doing nothing.
"Shoot the real one!" Slade shouted between gritted teeth. "That's the one!"
Even at a disadvantage, the man's instincts remained razor sharp. He'd already deduced which was the true body.
Not bad, Thea thought approvingly. No wonder he nearly wiped out the Justice League in another timeline. Still — note to self: don't use this trick in front of people that clever.
Her gaze flicked to Oliver's gun. She didn't fear bullets, but she wasn't in the mood to play dodge-the-round either.
Quoting the League's favorite creed, she said coolly, "Guns are toys for the weak."
Then she raised her hand and murmured an incantation.
A pulse of shadow rippled through the air — a Dark Veil. No dagger catalyst this time; she'd advanced far enough to cast the spell barehanded. The yin glyph on her wrist flared faintly, speeding the process and deepening its power.
In seconds, black mist coiled around Oliver like smoke, swallowing him whole.
"My eyes! I can't see!" he shouted, panicking as his vision went pitch black.
"Stay calm!" Slade barked. "Don't fire blindly!"
He was closer to Thea than Oliver was, and if the kid panicked and shot in the wrong direction… well, Slade didn't particularly fancy getting ventilated by friendly fire.
But Thea was mildly impressed. Even though Oliver's first reaction was chaos, he recovered quickly — not bad for a rookie. At least he's got the nerves of a hero in the making.
Oliver stopped moving, breathing carefully, turning his head to listen. What he didn't know was that Thea had modified the spell — instead of fixing the mist in one spot, she'd anchored it to him. That meant the darkness would follow wherever he moved.
"Got it!" he called back. "I won't move!"
Thea smiled faintly. "Good. Let's see how calm you stay for the next one."
Her left hand traced a rapid series of sigils in the air, weaving a second layer of power into the existing darkness.
The runes flared, and a jet-black beam shot toward Oliver, merging seamlessly with the mist.
This was one of the only incantations she'd memorized from those endless parchment scrolls — a modified Paralysis Spell. Normally, it immobilized targets by direct contact, but Thea had repurposed it to bind through her own shadow magic.
Using the already-existing dark veil as a conduit cut her mana cost in half and doubled the efficiency. Elegant and deadly.
When the casting was complete, she opened her hand toward Oliver — then clenched her fist.
"Mm?" Oliver blinked. His sight suddenly cleared; the darkness vanished. Relief flooded him — until he tried to step forward.
And couldn't.
His body was locked rigid, every muscle frozen in place.
Across the field, Slade was about to call for his help when he noticed the strain in Oliver's face — jaw tight, veins bulging, body trembling but unmoving. Then he saw Thea's gesture. His gut twisted.
"What… what the hell are you?"
He wasn't Deathstroke yet — just a mercenary with good instincts. "Metahumans" were already beyond his understanding; true magic was utterly alien.
His composure cracked. Panic crept in. Thea took her chance, sliding inside his guard and sweeping his leg. He crashed to the dirt, and before he could rally, her hand chopped sharply at the base of his neck.
Slade hit the ground, unconscious.
"Good grief," Thea muttered, brushing off her hands. "One less nuisance."
Her duplicate loosed two quick arrows to drive Shado back, then passed the bow back to the original before fading seamlessly into shadow.
The clearing fell silent — save for the rustle of waves in the distance and Oliver's muffled, indignant grunt as he realized he still couldn't move a muscle.