"Seraph, what was that?!" Robin called out.
"I..." Hikaru watched the fire dance across his palm, felt the heat responding to his will. "I don't know. New power, I guess?"
Dad's side, he thought, somewhere between panic and hysterical amusement. Has to be. Thanks for never being around, but at least your genetics show up when it counts.
Deathstroke had recovered, already advancing again with that same calculated efficiency. Robin threw a series of explosive discs in rapid succession—three, four, five—each from different angles, cutting off escape routes and forcing Deathstroke into an ever-shrinking space.
The assassin twisted between the first two, deflected the third with his sword, caught the fourth mid-flight and threw it back at Robin, then kicked the fifth directly into Raven's shield. Explosions thundered through the room.
When the smoke cleared, Deathstroke stood untouched.
Hikaru didn't give him time to press the advantage. He thrust both hands forward, and fire poured out—not wild this time, but shaped by intent. Streams of flame curved through the air like whips, forcing Deathstroke to dodge rather than block.
The assassin moved between the attacks with that same impossible precision, but fire wasn't a construct he could shatter. It bent and flowed, following Hikaru's will, cutting off angles and forcing Deathstroke to keep moving.
Starfire joined the assault, her starbolts weaving between Hikaru's flames. Green energy and golden fire created a net of destruction that even Deathstroke couldn't completely avoid.
A tongue of flame caught his shoulder. The armor smoked but didn't ignite.
Kid Flash recovered and blurred back into motion, using the fire as cover to strike from unexpected angles. Cyborg rallied despite his damaged cannon, using brute strength to box Deathstroke in. Donna pushed through her injured knee, sword work defensive but solid.
Beast Boy shifted into a snake, staying low where the flames couldn't reach, waiting for an opening.
Raven's dark energy wrapped around debris, turning the destroyed common room into a storm of projectiles.
And Hikaru kept the fire coming, learning its rhythm, how it responded to emotion rather than pure will. Anger made it burn hotter. Focus shaped it into precise streams. The flames moved like extensions of his body, natural as breathing.
"Seraph, watch the—" Wally blurred past a column of fire, then paused mid-warning. "Wait, that didn't... that doesn't burn?"
Hikaru blinked. The fire had washed over Wally's path, should've at least singed him, but the speedster was completely unharmed.
Another stream caught Beast Boy as he lunged—the green tiger passed through it like warm air.
"What the hell?" Gar shifted back to human, patting himself down. "Your fire's broken, dude."
Deathstroke used the moment of confusion to press an attack, driving Donna back with a series of calculated strikes. But when he forced her through a wall of flame, she emerged untouched on the other side.
Hikaru's mind raced, processing. The fire burned Deathstroke's armor. Scorched the walls and floor. But passed harmlessly over his teammates, over the H.I.V.E. Five members still zip-tied on the floor, over—
Holy fire, he realized. Divine judgment.
His father's power, filtered through angelic nature and two lifetimes of moral understanding. The flames only burned those he judged as sinners, as threats, as guilty.
And wasn't that just perfectly on-brand for Lucifer Morningstar's absent-parenting style—leaving your kid with powers tied to moral philosophy and zero instruction manual.
"It's fine!" Hikaru called out. "The fire won't hurt you—just keep him moving!"
He didn't explain further. Didn't have time. Deathstroke was adapting already, using the fact that the flames couldn't harm the Titans to position them as shields, to limit Hikaru's angles of attack.
But two could play that game.
Hikaru let the fire build, pulling more of that golden heat from whatever reservoir his father's bloodline had unlocked. The flames grew hotter, brighter, until the entire common room blazed with holy light.
"Everyone out!" Robin ordered. "Fall back to—"
"No," Hikaru cut him off. His voice came out different, resonant with something older than his sixteen years. "Stay in the fire. He can't."
Understanding flashed across Robin's masked eyes. He signaled the team—a complex series of hand gestures that meant trust him, adjust tactics, pattern Omega-Three.
The Titans moved as one.
They stopped trying to avoid the flames. Instead, they used them—Donna fighting with fire at her back, Starfire's starbolts channeled through the inferno, Kid Flash running paths that would've been impassable without the flames parting for him.
Beast Boy shifted into a wolf and stalked through walls of fire that Deathstroke had to avoid.
Raven's portals opened and closed within the blaze, disorienting and unpredictable.
Cyborg waded through the heart of the inferno, his damaged systems unaffected by heat that should've melted metal.
And Hikaru stood at the center of it all, conducting the flames like an orchestra, shaping their movements to support his team while denying every safe space to Deathstroke.
The assassin fought brilliantly—he always would—but even he couldn't maintain perfect defense while avoiding ever-shifting walls of holy fire, while fighting opponents who could move through his only safe spaces without hesitation.
A pillar of flame cut off his retreat. Kid Flash struck from within the fire itself. Deathstroke blocked, but Donna was already there, her sword forcing him back into another wall of flame.
He took the hit rather than the blade—armor scorching, smoke rising from the volatile promethium plating.
"Interesting development," Deathstroke said, his voice still maddeningly calm despite the burns accumulating on his armor. "Divine fire that judges sin. Your father's gift, I assume."
Hikaru didn't answer. He was too focused on maintaining control, on keeping the flames hot enough to threaten but contained enough not to bring the entire Tower down around them.