If one couldn't juggle multiple roles like Highfather and Darkseid, then pursuing purity was the only path for New Gods and Old Gods alike. Thea had severed all extraneous energies, just as Apollo wielded only solar power in combat—proof enough of the principle.
The Martian god before her was attempting to elementalize his body—a clever idea in theory. But the rock formations visible within him exposed critical flaws. He clearly wasn't pure. In a battle between equals, that was like writing your weaknesses on your forehead and handing your opponent an instruction manual on how to beat you.
From this alone, Thea could tell he hadn't originally been a flame-related deity. He'd shifted toward fire later in his existence, and the transformation hadn't gone particularly well.
"You can't move freely, can you? Stuck in this pool of lava? How pathetic." Thea surveyed the cavern, probing with her question.
The Martian god sensed her divine power as well, though New God energy differed vastly from Old God power. He couldn't quite place her origins, so he dodged her question about the lava.
"I am the God of Flame, Art, and Death. Don't presume to judge a supreme being with your limited perspective. You'd make a fine subordinate. I can teach you knowledge beyond your wildest dreams—power you've craved but could never reach."
Thea scoffed at the mentions of art and flame. But when she heard "death," her eyes narrowed. Death as a divine domain was simply too powerful, too overwhelming. Even Darkseid couldn't resist death's pull, let alone someone as relatively weak as her.
Death came for everyone—mortals, gods; even the entire multiverse would one day reach its end. The eternal life of gods was tied to their current universe. When the universe died, they'd perish with it. Not just Thea—all divine beings held death in reverence and fear.
Secretly researching death, or how to escape it, was something countless gods of both alignments pursued.
Doomsday's so-called death was the death he delivered by his hand—death to all living things. Essentially, it was a form of murderous insanity.
The candles she'd taken from Hades' head were gateways between the living and the dead—death existing in the liminal space between the two.
During the Rotworld crisis, true to her habit of squeezing value out of everything, she'd naturally intercepted some spoils. When helping Swamp Thing and Abby create soul fragments and duplicates, she'd secretly extracted portions of both the Black of Decay and the Green's primordial power.
She'd given the Green to Poison Ivy to study, while personally experimenting with the Black of Decay. The Black also contained death's power, though this death came through decay—merely a byproduct of rot.
She'd collected other mundane items too: firebricks from a crematorium furnace that had been used for thirty years, a tree where numerous young people had hanged themselves together, weapons used by serial killers.
She'd amassed quite a collection. And yet, she'd gotten nowhere with it. Maybe it was her personality, maybe her divine position—either way, she hadn't figured out a damn thing.
Now hearing this oversized brute also possessed a death domain, she couldn't help but be cautious. Hades had studied death for tens of thousands of years and still didn't dare claim he'd mastered it.
If she wasn't mistaken, this was H'ronmeer of Ma'aleca'andra (Mars), as praised on the stone walls outside—the God of Flame, Art, and Death. Three not-entirely-compatible domains for an alien deity who claimed to have penetrated life and death's mysteries. That demanded serious vigilance.
"You're the god of art the Martians praised on those walls, aren't you? I can understand the flame part, but how did you obtain the death domain?" Thea asked. New Gods merged with the Source for their divine positions, while Old Gods comprehended cosmic rules to gain their domains. Different paths, but some overlap existed.
Seemingly having touched on his proudest achievement, the Martian god H'ronmeer showed interest in sharing his insights with this strange deity. His voice still grated like a saw on wood. "How did I obtain the death domain? Through mass death, of course. Annihilation. I witnessed the end of all things in death. Only by personally ending them could I grasp this intoxicating power."
Thea had a terrible suspicion. "Ending them? Who are 'them'? The Martians?"
"Exactly. Death revealed this to me—only by severing all attachments could I gain death's favor. I bestowed the H'ronmeer's Curse, spreading it among the Martians through psychic contagion. In a single night, they all burned to death from their own mental fires! Haha! The concentrated psychic force of an entire race opened death's door for me. I obtained rebirth!"
Thea's expression darkened. "You killed all the Martians? They were your worshippers, the source of your faith."
H'ronmeer sneered dismissively. "They were baggage. Only one's own power is eternal."
Thea found herself speechless. She considered herself no saint, but she wasn't evil to this degree. To slaughter worshippers who'd revered him for millennia, all for a mere possibility? This creature didn't deserve to be called a god.
Especially thinking of the Martian Manhunter outside—orphaned and bereaved because of this monster—Thea felt anger rising. Her relationship with J'onn wasn't as close as with Batman. That was mainly because the Martian Manhunter had this overwhelming dad energy—every young, attractive girl was his daughter. Thea's age fell awkwardly in that zone. To avoid complications, she'd deliberately needled him.
The two bickered constantly. He didn't act like an elder, she didn't act like a peer. They'd gradually grown accustomed to this dynamic. Now, learning that this man she respected—someone everyone should respect, a thoroughly good person—had his entire life shadowed by this monster, Thea burned with fury.
"You deserve to die. You don't deserve the title of god, you bastard!" Thea drew Excalibur and roared. The holy sword began gathering radiant energy in response to her rage. She would demand justice for all the Martians who'd died in vain.
Avenging the wronged dead—that was her justice! H'ronmeer before her was pure evil. Thea's resolve had never been stronger. Her holy sword traced a graceful arc as she swung at H'ronmeer.
"Foolish! You dare raise your sword against a true god? Kneel now and I'll forgive you!" H'ronmeer indeed couldn't move easily. He could only conjure a sphere of golden flames in his palm, deflecting the sword strike to the side.
Since battle had begun, Thea had no intention of talking further. This massive cavern was saturated with fire elementals—water magic was completely ineffective, and trading fire attacks with him would be idiotic.
Thea used Excalibur as a staff, tapping the ground. A stone giant a hundred meters tall emerged.
Hmm? Was it her imagination, or did this giant bear distinctly Martian features? To confirm her suspicion, she summoned another.