Convergence

Mat Cauthon was not happy.

This was saying something, because Mat was rarely happy. He had been yanked from a war-torn battlefield, tossed into a fairy tale swamp, nearly drowned in frogs, been attacked by nightmare villains, and now, to top it all off, he was stuck in a sweltering desert with a random assortment of lunatics.

He groaned, rubbing his face as the relentless sunbeat down on them. The dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, vast, endless, and unforgiving.

This was not how he envisioned his day going.

Beside him, Steve Rogers was already scanning the horizon, his jaw set in that classic determined hero look that Mat found both annoying and concerning. The man looked like the kind of guy who never stopped moving, never stopped fighting, and—worst of all—never stopped giving inspiring speeches.

Next to them, Daenerys Targaryen stood with her arms crossed, her silver hair gleaming under the sun. She looked calm, but Mat knew a dangerous woman when he saw one. And this one? She had the air of a queen who wasn't used to taking orders from anyone.

Then there was Wonder Woman, who was way too composed for this nonsense, standing like she could fight an entire army with her bare hands. She probably could. Mat had seen her kind before—the type that threw themselves into battle without hesitation. Terrifying.

And then there was Megumin.

She was lying face-down in the sand.

"I hate deserts," she groaned, her voice muffled. "There's no water. No shade. And worst of all… no explosions."

Mat sighed and kneeled next to her. "C'mon, kid, get up before you bake."

Megumin lifted her head. "You don't understand! My ultimate artistry is useless here! What's the point of a world without things to explode?"

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "You are… a wizard?"

Megumin sprang up immediately, pointing at herself with dramatic flair. "Not just any wizard! I am Megumin, greatest arch-wizard of the Crimson Demon Clan! Master of the ultimate magic, EXPLOSION!"

Mat blinked. "That's… excessive."

"Thank you," Megumin said proudly.

Daenerys frowned. "And you waste this power on childish destruction?"

Megumin gasped, clutching her chest as if mortally wounded. "How dare you! Explosion magic is the most beautiful, elegant, and destructive force in existence!"

"Destruction is easy," Daenerys said coolly. "Creating something better is harder."

Mat stepped in before Megumin could start another dramatic rant. "Alright, alright. We can argue about who is or isn't a lunatic later. First thing's first—where the bloody hell are we, and how do we get out?"

Donkey, who had been oddly silent this entire time, suddenly spoke up.

"Now hold up—y'all are just gonna stand around and ignore the fact that we just got thrown into some kind of magical death desert by an evil mouse?!"

Mat sighed. "How the bloody held does a donkey talk?!"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You've fought magical creatures, but a talking donkey surprises you?"

"It's just… wrong," Mat muttered.

Donkey huffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Fancy Coat, but yeah, I talk! And I think we should be a little more concerned about what happens when night falls in this creepy place!"

Wonder Woman nodded in agreement. "He's right. Deserts are dangerous. Without shelter, we'll be exposed to the elements."

"And what are the elements here?" Steve wondered. "This isn't a normal world. It might not even be a normal desert."

"Great," Mat groaned. "So we don't even know what's gonna kill us."

"Don't be so negative!" Megumin said cheerfully. "Maybe it'll be something exciting!"

Mat stared at her. "How do you function?"

Megumin grinned. "Through sheer force of will!"

Donkey sighed, shaking his head. "Well, I say we get movin'. If we stand around, we're just gonna roast like a buncha deep-fried fairytale characters."

Mat took off his wide-brimmed hat and wiped sweat from his brow. "Alright, fine. We find some shade, figure out where we are, and pray to the bloody Light that we don't run into more problems."

Steve nodded. "Good plan. We should stay together and keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

"Everything is suspicious," Mat muttered.

Daenerys stepped forward, scanning the horizon. "If this is a desert, then there must be an oasis somewhere. Water sustains life. That's where we should go."

"Sounds good," Steve agreed. "Which way?"

There was a pause.

Nobody had any idea where to go.

Megumin gasped. "Wait! I have a plan!"

Mat groaned. "Is it—"

"EXPLOSION!" she screamed, raising her staff.

"NO!" the group shouted in unison, tackling her to the ground.

Megumin thrashed. "But we could have used it as a signal! Or a beacon! Or just for fun!"

"We are not blowing up the desert, Megumin!" Steve said sternly.

Daenerys frowned. "We don't even know if the sand is normal. Magic here could be… unpredictable."

Megumin huffed, crossing her arms. "You people have no appreciation for the fine arts."

"Alright," Mat sighed, already exhausted from dealing with these people. "We pick a direction and go. Worst case we die horribly, which at this point is still better than dealing with you lot."

"Hey!" Megumin pouted.

Donkey shrugged. "Look, I'll go whichever way doesn't have creepy monsters. Sound good?"

Wonder Woman, who had been silent up until now, suddenly pointed east. "There. A structure."

Everyone turned.

Sure enough, in the distance, something stood out against the horizon—a dark, jagged tower, half-buried in the sand.

Mat squinted. "That doesn't look friendly."

Steve adjusted his shield. "Then we should check it out."

Megumin pumped her fist. "Maybe we'll fight something awesome!"

Daenerys exhaled. "Or die trying."

Mat groaned. "Bloody hell, why do I always end up with the insane ones?"

Donkey grinned, trotting ahead. "Because it makes life interesting, sugar!"

And so, with no better options, the group set off toward the dark tower, clashing personalities and all.

Whether they were walking toward salvation or certain doom remained to be seen.

But knowing Mat Cauthon's luck, it was probably both.

Jon Snow awoke to the sound of rustling leaves and the faint howling of distant creatures. He was lying on his back, staring up at a canopy of gnarled, twisted trees that looked nothing like the forests of Westeros. The air was thick and damp, carrying the scent of moss, decay, and something unsettlingly unnatural.

He sat up and instinctively reached for his sword. Longclaw was still there, its comforting weight reassuring him that, at the very least, he wasn't defenseless.

The groan that followed told him that he wasn't alone.

"Ugh… where the hell are we?"

Jon turned to see Tony Stark sitting up, rubbing his head. The billionaire genius looked utterly displeased with their current environment, his metal armor covered in dirt and leaves.

Nearby, Shrek was sitting with his back against a tree, arms crossed and glaring at nothing in particular.

"Great," the ogre grumbled. "First I get a thousand weirdos in my swamp. Then I get sucked into some magic portal. And now, I wake up in a bloody creepy forest. Just perfect."

Darkness, the heavily armored, overly enthusiastic crusader, suddenly shot up from the ground, looking thrilled.

"This place…!" she gasped, her face flushed with excitement. "It's foreboding! It's dangerous! It's—"

"Probably full of monsters," Rand al'Thor muttered, standing up beside her.

Darkness shivered. "Yes… yes! If this place is anything like the dark forests of legend, then surely we shall be attacked by vicious beasts or merciless bandits!" She clenched her fists, grinning as if she had just found paradise.

Jon stared. "What is wrong with you?"

Darkness looked offended. "I'm simply embracing the thrill of combat!"

Superman, who had been standing off to the side surveying their surroundings, turned toward the group. "This is the second time you've said that. You like getting attacked?"

Darkness smiled proudly. "Of course! It is the ultimate test of endurance and will! To be struck down and rise again, again, again! To suffer and endure!"

Jon exchanged a glance with Rand, who looked equally disturbed.

"I take it back," Rand muttered. "She's worse than Aiel warriors."

Tony sighed, standing up and dusting himself off. "Alright, let's focus on the important stuff. Like, oh, I don't know, WHERE WE ARE?"

Jon nodded, adjusting his sword belt. "Aye. First, we figure out what this place is. Then, we find the others."

Shrek stood up, stretching. "Well, lemme just say, I ain't walkin' in some random direction without a plan. That's how ya get eaten in these kinds o' stories."

Jon glanced at Rand, who was still looking at the unnaturally dark trees around them. "Any ideas?"

Rand hesitated. "There's something… off about this place. The air feels wrong."

Superman nodded. "I've been listening. The sounds around us don't make sense. Birds, but no wind. Creatures moving, but nothing visible. It's like…" He frowned. "It's staged somehow."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Oh, great. Creepy magical horror forest. My favorite."

Darkness, of course, looked thrilled.

Jon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We need a direction."

Rand pointed toward the north, where the trees seemed to thin out slightly. "That way. I don't trust this place, but if there's an opening, it might lead to higher ground."

Superman nodded. "Agreed. Higher ground gives us a better view. We'll see if there's civilization nearby."

Shrek rolled his eyes. "Great. So we're walkin' straight into whatever's waitin' for us, huh?"

Jon adjusted Longclaw on his back. "It's better than waiting for whatever lives in this forest to come to us."

Shrek grumbled but didn't argue.

Tony clapped his hands together. "Alright, then. Leadership decided. King Broody over here is in charge." He gestured toward Jon.

Jon frowned. "I never said I—"

"Yeah, yeah, you're all about honor and duty, I get it," Tony interrupted. "But between you, farm boy over here"—he motioned toward Rand—"and our masochistic knight, I think you're our best bet at keeping things from going full disaster."

Jon sighed. He really didn't want to be in charge, but given the options? He supposed it could be worse.

He turned to the group. "Let's move. Stay close. If you hear anything that sounds unnatural, tell me immediately."

Darkness looked far too excited about this idea.

Shrek muttered something about "bloody chosen ones always taking charge."

And so, with no better options, they began moving through the eerie forest, their personalities already clashing as they ventured into the unknown.

Jon had a sinking feeling.

This was only going to get worse.

Batman awoke to silence.

That was the first thing that bothered him. Even in Gotham, there was always sound—distant sirens, humming streetlights, the subtle scurrying of rats in alleyways. But here? Nothing. No wind. No distant animals. No movement.

Just stone-cold silence.

He pushed himself up, eyes instantly scanning his surroundings.

They were inside a massive castle, its halls stretching into dark, eerie corridors lined with ancient suits of armor and decaying banners. The torches along the walls burned with an unnatural, bluish glow, casting ominous shadows along the cracked stone floors.

The air smelled of dust, age, and something else… something foul.

Beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi was already standing, lightsaber ignited, his sharp blue eyes scanning the environment.

Thor groaned as he sat up, rubbing his head. "By the gods… where in the Nine Realms have we landed?"

"Somewhere cursed," Perrin muttered, his golden eyes narrowing as he sniffed the air. "I don't like this place."

A few feet away, Aqua was dramatically weeping into her hands. "Why do these things always happen to me?! I just wanted to be worshipped in peace!"

Kazuma sat next to her, arms crossed. "Oh no. We got separated, dumped in a creepy castle, and have no idea where we are. Whatever will we do?" His tone was flat and dripping with sarcasm.

Aqua wailed louder.

"Stop whining," Batman ordered. "We need to figure out what we're dealing with."

Tyrion Lannister, who had been sitting against a nearby pillar with his ever-present flask of wine, sighed. "A castle of unknown origin, glowing torches with unnatural fire, and a sense of doom hanging in the air? I'd say we're in for a fun time." He took a sip. "And by 'fun,' I mean 'potentially lethal.'"

Obi-Wan exhaled, lowering his weapon slightly. "Agreed. I sense something… wrong here. The Force is clouded, like a storm just waiting to break."

"Magic," Perrin muttered, looking at Kazuma and Aqua. "You two would know more about that, right?"

Aqua, still sniffling, perked up slightly. "Well, if it's an evil presence, I could exorcise it!" She wiped her eyes dramatically. "But only if you apologize for being mean to me first!"

Batman stared at her. "No."

Kazuma grinned. "Well, that's the fastest 'no' I've ever heard."

Thor, having gotten to his feet, surveyed the area. "If there is a foe lurking within these cursed halls, then let them come forth!" He raised Mjolnir, lightning sparking around it. "They shall taste the might of a god!"

Batman pinched the bridge of his nose. "Or we could figure out where we are first before announcing our presence to whatever lives here."

Thor paused. "Ah. A fair point."

Tyrion took another sip of wine. "If we survive, I'd like to buy you a drink, Batman."

Kazuma leaned against a crumbling pillar. "So what's the plan, fearless leader?"

Batman surveyed the room, his mind already running a thousand calculations per second. He had worked with chaotic teams before—but this was next-level insanity.

"We move carefully," he decided. "We don't know what this place is or what might be watching us."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Agreed. We should proceed cautiously. Splitting up is not an option."

"Good," Kazuma said. "Because every time someone suggests splitting up, half the group dies."

Tyrion shrugged. "That's an optimistic estimate."

Perrin walked to a nearby archway, his nose twitching. "There's something down this way. A scent that… doesn't belong."

Aqua hid behind Kazuma. "W-What kind of scent?"

Perrin frowned. "It smells… old. Rotten. But not like death. Like something that shouldn't be awake."

Batman's jaw tightened. "We move. Now."

Without another word, the group began making their way down the hall, stepping over broken debris and weaving between statues that seemed to be watching them.

The deeper they went, the colder it became.

And somewhere—deep in the shadows—something stirred.

The tower loomed ahead, jagged and dark against the endless desert sky. Its structure was impossibly tall, stretching beyond the clouds as if it had no top. The sight alone made Mat uneasy.

He had seen unnatural things before, things that bent the very fabric of the Pattern—but this? This was wrong in a way he couldn't explain.

Behind him, Steve Rogers marched with his usual soldier's discipline, his shield strapped to his back as he scanned their surroundings. Daenerys Targaryen, ever regal despite the sweltering heat, walked beside him, her sharp violet eyes locked on the tower. Wonder Woman moved with purpose, her lasso at the ready, while Donkey huffed and puffed behind them, muttering complaints about sand in places he didn't want to talk about.

And then there was Megumin, skipping slightly as she walked, humming to herself.

Mat sighed. This is my life now.

As they reached the base of the tower, Mat noticed movement at the entrance. A lone figure stepped out from the shadows, his long coat flaring in the wind. He was tall and lean, his face weathered by time, his blue bombardier eyes cold and unreadable. A revolver sat at his hip, and when he spoke, his voice was gravelly, deliberate, and full of authority.

"I don't know what world this is," he said, "but you're walking toward something you ain't meant to find."

The group froze.

Megumin tilted her head. "Who's this cowboy?"

Mat immediately tensed. He didn't know why, but something about this man felt familiar. Not personally, but… the way he stood, the way he spoke. He was like Mat's own reflection in a dirty glass, a man who had seen too much, survived too much, and wasn't sure if he was better for it.

Mat narrowed his eyes. "And who are you supposed to be?"

The man's fingers twitched near his gun.

"Roland Deschain of Gilead," he said. "Gunslinger."

Mat exchanged a glance with Steve, who tightened his grip on his shield.

"Alright," Steve said carefully. "So you're a gunslinger. That doesn't explain why you're guarding this tower."

Roland studied them, then exhaled through his nose. "Because this tower doesn't belong here. It's the Dark Tower—the linchpin of reality. And if it's here, then the worlds are breaking apart."

Mat cursed under his breath. "Bloody ashes…"

Then, before anyone could respond, the wind shifted.

It was subtle at first—a change in the air, a sudden pressure in their ears. Then the ground trembled, sending ripples through the sand.

A voice rang out across the dunes, distant at first, then growing louder—a rhythmic, unsettling chant.

"Lisan al'Gaib… Lisan al'Gaib… Lisan al'Gaib…!"

Steve spun, shield raised. "What is that?"

Roland turned his head toward the dunes. His fingers brushed against his revolver.

The chanting grew, a roaring chorus echoing across the desert.

Mat swallowed hard. He knew something insane was coming.

He barely had time to process it before the sand exploded.

Towering sandworms—massive, writhing behemoths with mouths lined with endless rows of teeth—breached the surface, their bodies undulating as they crashed back down into the dunes. The very ground rumbled beneath their weight, sending up a storm of dust and sand.

And then, from behind the beasts, an army emerged.

They moved with perfect precision, clad in stillsuits, their faces hidden behind translucent masks. They wielded crysknives and rifles, their movements silent yet full of fury and purpose.

At their head stood a man with piercing blue eyes, his dark hair whipping in the wind. He raised a hand, and the army halted instantly.

His voice carried across the battlefield, strong, commanding.

"I am Paul Muad'Dib Atreides." He pointed toward the Dark Tower. "That does not belong in this world." His gaze landed on the group. "And neither do you."

A tense silence followed.

Megumin, grinning ear to ear, raised her staff. "Okay! Finally! A good target for an EXPLOSION!"

Mat's eyes went wide. "Oh, hell no—"

Too late. Megumin was already chanting, the air around her crackling with raw destructive force.

Roland reached for his gun. Paul tensed. The army prepared to charge.

And then, just as Megumin finished her incantation, Mat grabbed her by the collar and yanked her back, cutting off the spell just before it fired.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Megumin shrieked, flailing. "I was about to blow up a giant worm! IT WAS GOING TO BE SO COOL!"

Mat ignored her. His heart was pounding.

Something in the Pattern had shifted. He could feel it.

The dice were rolling. Loud. Too loud.

Mat clenched his jaw. He didn't always understand what the Pattern wanted from him, but he knew this much—if he let Megumin fire that spell, the world would change in a way none of them could predict.

So instead, he did the one thing he was good at.

He gambled.

Mat let go of Megumin, straightened his coat, and stepped forward between Roland and Paul, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Alright, boys," he said, grinning, "how about we not turn this into a fight and instead talk like reasonable people?"

Roland's hand hovered near his gun.

Paul's eyes narrowed.

The sandworms coiled, their massive bodies tensing as if ready to strike.

Mat took a breath. He could feel the Pattern shifting around him.

The next few moments would decide everything.

The forest was wrong.

Jon had spent his life in the haunted, snow-laden woods beyond the Wall, hunting alongside rangers, evading White Walkers, and tracking prey in the dead of night. But this?

This place was alive in a way that unsettled him. The trees were massive, their gnarled branches twisting into impossible shapes. Vines hung low, curling like snakes waiting to strike. Unfamiliar roars and howls echoed through the foliage, but the creatures making those sounds remained hidden. The further they moved, the more Jon felt like something was watching them.

Rand al'Thor walked beside him, his grip on his sword tight, his sharp gaze darting between the trees. Superman hovered slightly above them, scanning the area with x-ray vision, his expression unreadable.

Tony Stark, brushing leaves off his armor, groaned. "Great. Another creepy forest. What's next? A haunted castle? A deadly swamp?"

Shrek, trudging at the back of the group, raised a hand. "Oi! Leave me out o' this, tin man!"

Jon ignored them. He was too busy thinking.

First, they were transported to Shrek's world. And now they were wandering through a jungle that didn't belong here either.

Something was very wrong with this situation.

"Keep moving," Jon ordered. "We need to find shelter before nightfall."

Rand nodded. "Agreed. Something about this place feels… dangerous."

Darkness, practically vibrating with excitement, beamed. "Ohhh, yes! A forest filled with hidden dangers? How thrilling! Do you think we'll be ambushed?"

Jon exhaled through his nose. "I hope not."

Then, as if fate itself decided to mock him, a figure dropped from the trees above.

Jon reacted instantly, drawing Longclaw as the blur of muscle and motion landed before them.

The man crouched low, his dark eyes wild and piercing, his bare chest covered in mud and scars. His hands tensed, fingers curled like claws, and before Jon could issue a command—

He lunged.

Anakin Skywalker moved first, igniting his blue lightsaber in a flash of energy. He swung instinctively, but the wild man dodged with inhuman agility, flipping over him and landing on a low-hanging branch with cat-like grace.

Superman floated forward, his brow furrowed. "Stand down."

The man bared his teeth.

Jon gritted his teeth. Great. Another fight.

Anakin adjusted his stance, his expression one of focused irritation. "I don't know who you are," he said, "but we don't have time for this."

The wild man tilted his head, studying him with intense curiosity. Then, in a voice that was rough from lack of use but still strong, he spoke.

"Who… are you?"

Jon hesitated. The man's accent was strange, but the words were clear.

"We're not enemies," he said, lowering his sword slightly. "We're just passing through."

The man's piercing animalistic gaze shifted between them. His breathing slowed. Then he pounded his chest once.

"Tarzan."

There was a beat of silence.

Tony Stark blinked. "Wait. What?"

Shrek, who had been watching from the back, suddenly let out a groan. "Oh, for the love of Farquaad! Not another one!"

Jon turned sharply. "You recognize him?"

Shrek threw his hands up. "Aye! I know bloody of him! Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle—stronger than a bloody ox, swings from trees like a lunatic, talks to animals, probably wrestled a lion in his free time!" He rubbed his face. "Ain't exactly the kind o' guy ya wanna get into a fistfight with, lemme tell ya."

Jon's stomach dropped.

More worlds. More people that shouldn't be here.

Something wasn't right.

Before Jon could ask any more questions, the earth shook beneath them.

The trees trembled, sending leaves raining down. The air filled with a deep, thunderous growl—a sound so massive that even Superman tensed.

Then the jungle split apart as a colossal figure emerged.

King Kong.

Jon barely had time to process what he was looking at. The giant ape, taller than any structure he'd ever seen, pushed through the trees, its massive fists slamming against the ground as it let out a bone-rattling roar.

Anakin immediately raised his lightsaber again.

"Okay," Tony said, taking a step back, "I vote we run."

"Agreed!" Rand shouted.

Superman prepared to launch forward, his eyes glowing red—

But before anyone could make a move, Tarzan raised a hand.

The effect was instantaneous.

Kong's massive body stilled. His red, battle-ready eyes softened slightly. He tilted his head toward Tarzan, studying him.

Then, to everyone's shock, Tarzan let out a deep, guttural sound—a series of low grunts and calls, almost like a language of its own.

Kong blinked. Then, with a deep rumble, he lowered himself slightly, no longer in an aggressive stance.

Jon was stunned.

Tarzan just tamed the beast.

"Well, damn," Tony muttered. "Jungle boy's got skills."

Tarzan turned back to them, his face unreadable. "You are… lost?"

Jon hesitated. "Something like that."

Tarzan nodded once, then looked at Kong. He placed a hand on the ape's massive leg and murmured something too quiet to hear.

Then he turned back to the group. "We go together."

Shrek groaned again. "Ohhh, no. Nope. I draw the line at giant monkeys!"

Jon ignored him. His mind was racing.

This wasn't just about their group anymore.

Something was pulling people in from different worlds—different realities.

And whatever force was responsible, it was getting worse.

Jon looked at Tarzan, then up at Kong's towering form, and then at Shrek's exasperated face.

He exhaled.

"Fine. We move together."

And just like that, the King of the Jungle and the Titan of the Wild joined their growing, increasingly impossible fellowship.

The castle groaned.

The walls creaked as if the stone itself was breathing, and the eerie blue torches flickered like dying souls trapped in glass.

Batman moved silently, scanning every shadowy corner as the group advanced through the cold corridors. Obi-Wan Kenobi walked beside him, his hand resting lightly on his lightsaber hilt, his senses reaching out into the Force, alert for whatever unnatural presence lurked nearby.

Perrin Aybara walked with them, sniffing the air. "Something isn't right. There's a scent here—something old."

"More magic?" Batman asked, his voice low.

Kazuma sighed dramatically. "Oh, great. More creepy supernatural nonsense. Why can't we ever get transported to a peaceful, monster-free world?"

Aqua, clutching the back of Kazuma's coat, shivered violently. "I hate this place! This castle is evil, I can feel it!"

Tyrion Lannister took a long sip from his flask. "Considering our luck so far, I'd wager we're about to run into something far worse than ominous lighting."

And that was when the howling started.

A deep, guttural snarl echoed through the hall, followed by the unmistakable thump of massive footsteps.

Then, the walls shuddered, and they came.

A massive, stitched-together figure lurched forward from the darkness, its grotesque form towering over them, its milky-white eyes unseeing but filled with purpose. Frankenstein's monster.

From the opposite hallway, a shadow peeled itself from the walls, its form shifting into a tall, elegant man in a dark red cape. His eyes gleamed like fresh blood in the moonlight. Dracula.

A third shape landed from above, crouched on all fours—a mass of fur, fangs, and claws. The Wolfman, his golden eyes burning with primal intensity.

And then from behind them all, stepping forward calmly, her hands folded neatly in front of her, came a girl in black.

Wednesday Addams.

She regarded them coolly, her expression one of mild amusement and thinly veiled judgment.

Tyrion coughed, suddenly uncertain. "I did not wake up today expecting to be judged by a dark, terrifying girl."

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes locking onto him. "I find you unimpressive but tolerable. Like a feral cat that's learned to use cutlery."

Tyrion blinked. "…I have no idea whether that was an insult or a compliment."

Before anyone could respond, the Wolfman lunged—straight for Perrin.

The two collided with brutal force, rolling across the stone floor as claws met enhanced strength.

Wolfman snarled, swiping at Perrin's face.

Perrin ducked, countering with a solid punch to the wolf's gut. "Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?"

Wolfman growled. "You smell… different. What are you?"

Perrin grinned, his own golden eyes flashing. "Same question, buddy."

They exchanged another round of furious blows, but it quickly became less of a life-or-death struggle and more of a roughhouse brawl between two overgrown dogs trying to prove dominance.

Batman, meanwhile, had zero time for nonsense.

Dracula stepped forward, a sinister smirk playing across his face. "I sense great darkness within you, mortal. Perhaps you are already… one of us."

Batman threw a Batarang at his face.

Dracula barely dodged it, his smirk vanishing as Batman charged forward.

A flash of red cape—a blur of motion—and the two were trading blows, Dracula's unnatural speed clashing against Batman's flawless combat precision.

Tyrion took another sip of wine and muttered, "I really need to stop underestimating the Bat."

Thor, watching this unfold, finally lost patience.

With a single swing of Mjolnir, he slammed Frankenstein's monster in the chest—sending the massive creature crashing through three walls and into another room.

Everyone stopped.

Thor twirled Mjolnir, unimpressed. "That was… surprisingly easy."

Kazuma, meanwhile, had been staring at Wednesday this whole time, his face turning a deep shade of red.

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "S-So, uh, hey there, Miss Dark and Mysterious. Love the whole gothic aesthetic. It's, uh… pretty hot, not gonna lie."

Wednesday blinked slowly, then tilted her head. "You're pathetic."

Kazuma visibly twitched. "W-Wha—?"

"You reek of desperation," Wednesday continued, monotone and brutal. "Like a lonely rat begging for scraps in an alley. I can feel the crippling lack of dignity oozing off you like a diseased swamp."

Kazuma froze, his confidence shattered into dust.

Then, dramatically, he fell to his knees, clutching his chest. "UGH. MORTALLY WOUNDED. THIS PAIN—IT'S TOO MUCH!"

Aqua, still hiding behind Tyrion, screamed. "KAZUMA, NOOO!"

Tyrion blinked. "Well. That was… brutal."

Obi-Wan, sensing the fight was going nowhere, stepped forward and raised a hand.

"Enough," he said firmly. "We don't need to fight."

Wednesday turned to him, her expression unreadable.

Dracula's eyes narrowed, but he did not strike. Wolfman, still mid-brawl with Perrin, suddenly stopped punching him.

Perrin, confused, lowered his fists. "Wait. Are we done?"

Wolfman shrugged. "I mean, I guess?"

Obi-Wan continued, "We were all transported here against our will. If you experienced the same, then we should work together instead of wasting our strength fighting each other."

Wednesday studied him. Then, in her eerily calm voice, she said:

"You're correct. I claimed these creatures as my subordinates because they were… directionless. I was also pulled from my world. I assumed control because no one else would. But this mystery is larger than any of us. It requires… investigation."

Batman crossed his arms. "So you're saying we're on the same side."

"For now," Wednesday said. "But if you annoy me, I do have an army of the dead waiting."

Kazuma melted. "God, she's cool…"

Wednesday turned toward him slowly, eyes emotionless and hollow.

Kazuma shut up immediately.

Thor, rubbing his chin, nodded. "Very well! If the little one has wisdom, then I shall trust her judgment!"

Dracula folded his arms. "Hmph. I still don't like this."

Wolfman shrugged, glancing at Perrin. "Eh, I could go either way."

Frankenstein's monster, stumbling back through the broken wall, gave an uncertain grunt.

Wednesday clasped her hands together. "Good. Then we move forward."

Batman sighed. "This group keeps getting worse."

Tyrion smirked. "Oh, come on. It's starting to feel like a proper dysfunctional family now."

And so, the monsters and the macabre girl joined the team.