I thought the goals wouldn't be met and I can just relax or whatever. But you guys pranked me by reaching it , and now here we are. This is where shit starts to get real interesting as next up is some big battles coming with major plot reveals. Specially with the new big heroic spirit reveal. I've hinted before about it in several chapters. I sincerely hope any and all readers who read from chapter 1 show up for it on Sunday, and enjoy it together rather than showing up a month later 💀 So Keep your nerd socks on, you'll need it next week. The battle raged across Earth-3's shattered capital. The sky burned with conflicting energies—green constructs, red heat vision, blue lightning, and the clash of divine steel against corrupted flesh. Diana's sword carved through Power Ring's constructs like they were paper. Each strike was precise, furious, the accumulated frustration of watching her world burn while politicians debated control. For origınal chapters go to 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵 Her blade found his ring hand. He screamed as the corrupted jewelry shattered, its bearer collapsing as the entity within abandoned him. "One down!" she called out. Across the battlefield, Clark and Faora worked in perfect sync against Ultraman. The tyrant was strong, augmented by kryptonite, but facing two Kryptonians with nothing to lose was a different fight entirely. Clark caught one of Ultraman's punches. Faora drove her knee into his ribs with enough force to crack bone. They moved like a storm—coordinated, relentless, giving no quarter. "This isn't possible!" Ultraman roared, bleeding from a dozen wounds. "I'm the strongest! I'm—" "Delusional bastard," Faora finished, her heat vision carving a line across his chest. Clark followed with an uppercut that sent Ultraman crashing through the remains of a skyscraper. "You're just a bully who never learned when to stop." Johnny Quick found himself facing Barry, and this time there was no escape. Flash had learned from their last encounter—calculated every move, every trick. When Johnny tried to phase through an attack, Barry was already there, fist connecting with his jaw . Arthur landed the finishing blow with his Trident that he recieved from Edward. Jhonny Quick crumpled, his connection to the Speed Force flickering like a dying flame. Arthur stood over him, trident gleaming. "Stay down. I'd rather not kill you, but I will." He wisely didn't move. Above them, Hal's constructs formed an emerald net that dragged the last of the Minutemen from the sky. Shazam's lightning turned their weapons to slag. Hank phased through their ranks, systematically dismantling them from within. The resistance forces surged forward, emboldened by their heroes. Earth-3's people, beaten and broken for so long, finally fought back with everything they had. Luthor coordinated it all from a makeshift command post, his tactical mind turning chaos into victory. "Eastern flank, push forward! Shazam, I need you covering the civilian evacuation on Fifth Street! Hal, those drones are regrouping—" "On it!" Hal called, his ring flaring. The battle turned. Slowly, brutally, but it turned. Within hours, the Crime Syndicate lay defeated. Ultraman was pinned beneath a construct cage, his strength finally exhausted. Johnny Quick was unconscious, wrapped in Arthur's conqueror's haki that kept him subdued. Power Ring was powerless, his hand a bleeding stump. Diana stood over Ultraman, sword point resting against his throat. "It's over." Ultraman spat blood, his eyes still burning with defiance. "You think you've won? You don't even know..." "Owlman's plan," Luthor interrupted, stepping forward. His voice was cold, factual. "We know. He's going to use Dr. Manhattan to destroy Prime Earth. The quantum cascade will collapse every universe simultaneously." Ultraman's defiance cracked. His face went actually pale, despite the kryptonite still in his system. "What?" "He's insane," Luthor continued. "He doesn't want to rule. He wants to end everything. He played you all, used you as a distraction while he set up his endgame." For the first time since they'd met him, Ultraman looked genuinely afraid. "That's... I had no idea. That's suicide. That's actually worse than suicide. That's—" "Omnicide," Edward would have joked, if he were there. Ultraman struggled against his bindings, panic bleeding into his voice. "I'll stop him! Let me go, I'll fly there right now and tear that device apart! I never agreed to this! I wanted to rule, not die!" Diana's expression was cold. "You don't get to play hero now." "She's right," Arthur said, walking over. "You've done enough damage." Clark landed beside them, his expression tired but resolved. "Besides, you don't need to worry about it." Ultraman looked at him desperately. "What do you mean? Didn't you say the whole multiverse will die!" Diana sheathed her sword, her voice carrying absolute confidence. "Because my father will take care of it. Like he always does." The certainty in her tone left no room for argument. She believed it utterly, completely. But even as she spoke, a flicker of worry crossed her face. Something Edward had said before they parted. The Syndicate wasn't smart enough to trap Manhattan alone. There was a mastermind—someone operating on a level far beyond these petty tyrants. Her hand moved unconsciously to her communication device. Nothing yet. Father was probably handling it. Still, the worry lingered. Luthor noticed her expression. "Something wrong?" Diana forced herself to relax. "No. Just... there are bigger threats out there than the Crime Syndicate. I hope father doesn't push himself too hard." "Your father punched Ultraman into orbit," Faora pointed out. "I think he can handle whatever's waiting." Diana nodded, but the unease remained. She'd seen her father face gods, demons, armies—but she'd also seen him come home exhausted, drained, carrying burdens he'd never speak of. "Please be careful, father." She muttered a solemn prayer. Superwoman's lasso snapped through the barren land, wreathed in corrupted divine energy. Edward caught it mid-strike and yanked hard enough to pull her off balance. She twisted in the low gravity, launching herself at him with a feral grin. Her fist connected with his jaw—a strike that would have shattered mountains on Earth. Edward's head moved not even an inch. He looked back at her, unimpressed. "That's it? I expected more honestly after all the boasting." Edward's palm strike caught her in the sternum. The impact sent her flying backward, crashing into the lunar surface hard enough to create a new crater. Moon dust billowed up like smoke. She emerged from it, bleeding from her mouth, but still grinning. "You hit harder than I imagined. I guess that pretty face isn't the only thing you got going for you.." "And you're dumber than you look," Edward replied. "Which is impressive. Even though I hate you, definitely dig the slutty outfit. Ever considered a career as a stripper?" She rushed him again with a furious yell. "I'll kill you!" "Hey, it's a compliment!" This time Edward didn't catch her strike—he sidestepped and drove his elbow into her spine. She screamed, crashing face-first into the gray regolith. "Stay down baddie," Edward said calmly. "This doesn't have to continue." Superwoman pushed herself up, trembling. "I don't... do down." He nodded sagely. "Figured as much. Amazons like to be on top. But you should give up. You won't be able to get up or walk if this continues." Superwoman smirked viciously. "I only hear your words, but not action. Are you even capable?" Edward sighed. "Then you're going to regret this." The fight became clinical and brutal. Edward wasn't trying to kill her, just break her bones. Every strike landed precisely, targeting joints, nerve clusters, pressure points. She fought back with everything she had—strength, speed, her corrupted powers—but it was like fighting gravity itself. Within minutes, Superwoman could barely stand. Her armor was cracked, blood staining her suit. She stumbled, fell to one knee, tried to rise and couldn't. Edward stood over her, his expression neutral. "Done?" She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked past him—toward where Owlman and Batman fought in their deadly dance. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears mixing with blood on her face. "Owlman... I tried." She began crawling towards him. Every movement clearly agony, but she forced herself forward, inch by painful inch. Edward watched her, something almost like pity in his eyes. He didn't stop her. "She actually cares for him, huh?" Love can be strange sometimes. On the other side of the lunar battlefield, two shadows moved in perfect synchronization, and perfect opposition. Owlman threw a owlrang. Bruce caught it mid-flight and returned it in the same motion, the weapon spinning back with twice the force. Owlman deflected it with his gauntlet, the metal ringing in the airless void. They circled each other, capes trailing in the low gravity, each waiting for the other to make a mistake. "You fight well," Owlman said, his voice clinical, analytical. "Better than I calculated. I'd modeled seventeen variations of this confrontation. None of them had you lasting this long." "Your first mistake," Bruce replied, his stance perfect, "was thinking I'm predictable." "Everyone is predictable. You, me—we're both slaves to pattern and logic. The only difference is I've accepted it. And what was my second?" Bruce's fist connected with Owlman's jaw. "Thinking you were the only one willing to do whatever it takes." Bruce lunged. Owlman countered with a nerve strike aimed at his shoulder. Bruce twisted, deflecting the blow and driving his elbow toward Owlman's temple. Batman blocked, their arms locked for a moment before they broke apart. "You think you're different from me," Owlman continued, already repositioning. "You think your precious hope makes you better. But we both know the truth." "And what truth is that?" Bruce asked, deflecting another strike. "That we're both broken men pretending our obsessions have meaning." Owlman's fist crashed into Bruce's guard, forcing him back a step. "You dress your crusade in righteousness. I dress mine in nihilism. But underneath? We're the same. One bad day away from becoming each other." (Bro thinks he's him 💀) Bruce caught Owlman's next punch, twisting his wrist and driving a knee into his ribs. The armor absorbed most of the impact, but Owlman grunted. "No. We're not." "Denial?" Owlman swept Bruce's legs. Bruce rolled with it, coming up with a batarang already flying. "That's beneath you." The weapon struck Owlman's shoulder, explosive charges detonating. Smoke and debris filled the space between them. Both men moved through it, their fight continuing in the haze. "We both lost our loved ones to crime," Owlman said, his voice echoing from multiple directions as he used the smoke for cover. "We both trained ourselves to human perfection. We both wage war on the world that failed us." "There's one difference," Bruce said, his voice calm, tracking Owlman's position by sound alone. "You let it break you. I chose to be better than my pain." "Chose?" Owlman laughed,, cold and bitter. "You didn't choose anything. You reacted. Just like I did. The only difference is your world had heroes to lie to you about meaning. Mine showed me the truth from the start." "Perhaps. But I had someone to help me." Bruce smiled. They crashed together again, trading blows in rapid succession. Punch, counter, block, dodge—a deadly ballet of martial perfection. Every technique Bruce knew, Owlman knew. Every counter Bruce employed, Owlman had already calculated. They were too evenly matched. Bruce shifted tactics. He stopped fighting like Batman, stopped relying on pattern and technique. Instead, he fought like the young Bruce Wayne. Messy. Emotional. Unpredictable. A wild haymaker that no trained fighter would throw. Owlman moved to counter the obvious opening, and Bruce's real attack came from below, a sweeping kick that caught him off-guard. Owlman stumbled. Bruce pressed the advantage, driving forward with a combination that was more street brawl than martial arts. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't perfect. "You're... breaking form," Owlman gasped, blocking desperately. "That's... irrational." "That's human," Bruce replied, his fist connecting with Owlman's jaw. "Something you forgot how to be." Owlman's combat algorithm couldn't adapt fast enough. He'd calculated for Batman the perfect warrior. He hadn't calculated for Bruce Wayne the man—flawed, angry, but ultimately driven by something beyond logic. Bruce saw his opening, Owlman's guard dropped for half a second, his movements stuttering as his calculations failed to predict the next move. Bruce didn't hesitate. His strike was perfect, aimed precisely at the cluster of nerves at the base of the skull. The impact was surgical, exact. Owlman's eyes widened behind his cowl. His legs gave out. He crumpled to the lunar surface, consciousness flickering. "It doesn't matter," Owlman gasped, his voice weak but still defiant. "Even if you beat me... the device is already counting down. Six minutes until everything ends. You can't stop it. No one can." "Then I'll find a way before that happens," Bruce replied, already moving toward the quantum device. Owlman tried to crawl behind him, trying to stop Bruce, but before he could get closer, a broken figure crawled into view. Superwoman had dragged herself across the lunar surface, leaving a trail of blood-tinged ground behind her. Her armor was shattered, ribs clearly broken, one arm hanging uselessly. But she'd made it. She collapsed beside Owlman, her trembling hand finding his. She whispered, tears mixing with blood on her face. "I tried to stop him. I tried..." Owlman's eyes flickered open. Through the pain, through the defeat, something shifted in his expression. For the first time since anyone had known him, the cold calculation melted away. He looked at her deeply, and his armored hand reached up, trembling, to pull off his cowl. The face beneath was surprisingly handsome, in a haggard way, with the same sharp features as Bruce Wayne but twisted by years of cynicism and pain. Dark circles under his eyes. Scars at his temple. But in this moment, something almost peaceful crossed his features. Bruce looked away immediately as that face was one he deeply remembered. He closed his eyes in pain as he walked away. Owlman actually smiled at Superwoman, a small, genuine, the expression so foreign to his face it looked almost wrong. "Lois," he said softly, using her real name. "You didn't fail. You never failed." Superwoman choked on a sob. "We lost. Everything we built, everything we planned..." "No," Owlman interrupted gently. His other hand came up, cupping her bloodied face with surprising tenderness. "We were never going to win. We are just a pawn. Someone controlled our actions. I knew that from the start. Every calculation, every probability, they all ended the same way." "Then why?" she asked, tears streaming freely now. "Why go through with it? Why drag us all into this?" "Because for once, I wanted to choose the ending," Owlman replied. "Every other version of my life, every other universe, someone else decided how it ended. Heroes, villains, fate, entropy. Everyone but me." His smile turned sad. "This time, I choose." Lois looked at him, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You were never trying to destroy existence. You were trying to create your own death." "Yes," Owlman nodded. He shifted slightly, pain evident in every movement, and pulled a small device from his belt. It was cylindrical, sleek, humming with barely contained energy. "You don't have to follow me to this end, Lois. You could let them save you. Find another universe. Another life." Lois stared at the device, at what it represented. Then she looked at Owlman's face, really looked at him, seeing not the calculating monster but the broken man underneath. "I was with Ultraman," she said suddenly, her voice raw with confession. "Using him for power, for protection. I was seeing Luthor on the side for resources, playing them both against each other. I've manipulated, betrayed, killed thousands. I'm not a good person, Thomas." Owlman, Thomas Wayne nodded, his smile didn't waver. "I know. I've always known." "You're the only real thing in my life," Thomas said simply. "Everyone else- Ultraman, Quick, Power Ring; they were tools. Variables in an equation. But you..." His voice softened. "You were the only person who ever looked at me and saw something other than a weapon or a threat. You saw me. And I could sense you were starting to change, more atttached." "You're a nihilistic sociopath planning to destroy existence," Lois said, but there was no heat in it. Just exhausted honesty. "And you're a narcissistic psychopath who uses people like toys," Thomas replied with a chuckle. His thumb stroked her cheek gently. "We're perfectly terrible for each other." Despite everything, the pain, the defeat, the end of all things—Lois laughed. It came out as a broken sound, but it was genuine. "We truly are, aren't we? " Thomas held up the device between them. "This is a quantum destabilizer. Compressed antimatter wrapped in dimensional phasing technology. It will erase us completely—no atoms, no quantum signature, nothing. We won't even exist as ghosts or echoes." "Oblivion," Lois said. "True oblivion," Thomas confirmed. "No afterlife, no judgment, no continuation. Just... nothing. The only real escape from this meaningless cycle." He looked into her eyes. "Do you truly plan to follow me till the end, Lois?" Lois didn't answer immediately. She looked at the device, then at Thomas's face. He looked tired without the cowl. Vulnerable. Human. She thought about her life. The lies, the manipulations, the endless hunger for power that never filled the void inside her. She thought about how she'd never felt anything real until this moment, bleeding out on the moon beside a man who'd planned to murder existence itself. "You know what's funny?" Lois said, her voice barely a whisper. "I've lived for decades. I've conquered worlds, killed hundreds, slept with the strongest beings in our reality. Always getting what I wanted. But the only time I ever felt alive was standing beside you, watching you try to end everything." Thomas's expression softened even further. "Is that a yes?" Instead of answering with words, Lois leaned in. The kiss was gentle despite their broken bodies, despite the blood and pain. It was real in a way nothing else in their twisted lives had ever been. When they pulled apart, Lois's hand covered Thomas's on the device. "Together?" she whispered. Thomas's smile was peaceful now. Almost serene. "Always." Their fingers intertwined on the detonator. Bruce saw it happening. He lunged forward, shouting, "No!" But he was too far away. Too slow. Edward stopped him from getting closer and being dragged into the explosion. Lois and Thomas looked at each other one last time. Something passed between them—understanding, acceptance, maybe even something like love in their own broken way. "Thank you," Thomas whispered. "For what?" Lois asked. "For being there until the end." She pressed the button. The device activated with a sound like reality tearing. White light erupted from the quantum core, expanding in a perfect sphere. It wasn't an explosion—it was an erasure. The light touched Thomas and Lois, and they simply ceased. Not obliterated, not destroyed—erased. Their quantum signatures unraveled, their atomic structures dissolved into nothing, their very existence wiped from the fabric of reality as if they had never been. No screams. No pain. Just light, and then nothing. When the light faded, the lunar surface near them vanished. Not even a scorch mark remained. Just empty gray crater where two people had chosen their own ending. Bruce stood frozen, his fist still outstretched from his futile attempt to stop them. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. Even villains deserved... something. A trial. Justice. Not this, not oblivion chosen in despair. But another part of him, the part that understood what it meant to be broken—recognized what he'd witnessed. Two shattered souls finding the only peace they could imagine. Together. Edward approached silently, standing beside Bruce. He looked at the empty space where Owlman and Superwoman had been, his expression unreadable. "They chose this," Edward said quietly. "In a life where everything was taken from them by fate and circumstance, they chose their own ending. That takes... a kind of courage." "It's not courage," Bruce said, his voice rough. "It's surrender." "Maybe," Edward replied. "Or maybe it's the only victory they could win." He paused. "I've lived thousands of years, Bruce. I've seen countless people face their end. Some rage against it, some accept it with grace, some run until they can't run anymore." He gestured to the empty ground. "Those two? They owned it. They looked at the universe that made them monsters and said 'no, we decide how this ends.'" Bruce was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly: "I should have saved them." "From what?" Edward asked. "From themselves? From their choices?" He shook his head. "You can't save everyone, Bruce. Especially not from the endings they choose." Bruce turned away, his cape settling around him. "The device. We need to stop the countdown." He moved to the device immediately, accessing its control panel. His fingers flew across the interface, Batman's tactical mind working through quantum calculations at impossible speed. The math didn't work. The power was already building. Even destroying the device wouldn't stop it—the quantum entanglement with Dr. Manhattan had created a feedback loop. "Master, I need your help." Bruce called out. Edward was already moving, leaving the crater behind. He analyzed the device in an instant, his expression darkening. "Manhattan's trapped inside the quantum matrix," Edward said. "The device isn't just using him—it's tearing him apart across dimensional boundaries. If I don't release him, he'll detonate regardless." "Can you stabilize him?" "I can try. But it will be dangerous for you." Bruce nodded calmly. "I trust you with my life." Edward smiled and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't allow my precious disciple to be harmed." His hands glowed with golden light. He reached into the device, his power interfacing with the quantum mechanics holding Manhattan prisoner. The device screamed. Alarms blared silently in the void. Energy crackled, reality itself straining. His eyes widened, focusing on something beyond the moon, beyond Earth, beyond normal space entirely. He had sensed something out there, watching them. Something that can even go toe to toe with him without using his full strength as an Endless. "Bruce," he said quietly, his voice carrying a tension Bruce had never heard before. "I need you to leave. Now." "I'm sending you back to Earth-3. Wait for me there." Edward's tone left no room for argument. "You won't be safe if I fight what's coming. Hell, this whole universe might end." Bruce's jaw clenched. "What's coming? Is that the true mastermind behind this?" "You need to go now, Bruce. Tell Diana not to worry, I'll be fine. But I might miss her birthday party." He smiled lightly. Thw Portal enveloped Bruce before he could protest. One moment he was on the Moon, the next he was standing beside Diana on Earth-3, her surprised expression the first thing he registered before turning back toward the lunar surface visible in the sky. "Be safe, Master." Bruce muttered, knowing Edward couldn't hear him. Edward stood alone on the Moon's surface, hands still wreathed in golden light as Manhattan's quantum matrix stabilized. The countdown stopped. The device powered down. But the threat hadn't passed. Edward sighed, his voice carrying across the void. "I can already sense your presence. You should show your face rather than lurking like a creepy stalker." An amused chuckle rolled through reality itself. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere, resonating in dimensions Bruce couldn't have perceived. "How interesting. I never thought I would witness such a creature." Edward shrugged. " Maybe visit a zoo or watch animal planet or something if you lack knowledge on the matter." The void shifted around the moon. Reality twisted and parted like a curtain. From the darkness between dimensions, something emerged. Something massive. He walked forward, and each step seemed to compress space itself. His size defied physics—not just large, but gigantic. A mountainous entity whose mere presence warped the fabric of existence around him. His head was encased in a metallic helmet-dome, a sickly green-blue hue that seemed both ancient and wrong. Dark tubes ran from his chest to the sides of his helmet, channeling destructive energy that made the void itself recoil. Within the helmet's recess, empty glowing sockets radiated cold, malevolent light. Edward stared, his expression shifting from caution to recognition to something approaching dread. "So you have noticed me, anomaly," the entity spoke, its voice like the death of stars. "Hard to miss such a power signature since you are stalking me." He joked despite his mind racing, a little nervous for probably the first time in his life. Edward knew that armor. Knew that presence. He'd studied the cosmic hierarchy, prepared for threats beyond normal comprehension. This was the Anti-Monitor, a child of Perpetua, destroyer of universes, the being whose sole purpose was to collapse realities back into the void. And he carried out his mothers orders, acting as her eyes and ears. Which meant whatever he was seeing and hearing, Perpetua would too. And Edward's sole purpose, the reason the Presence had allowed his transmigration millennias ago, was to defend the multiverse from threats exactly . And now, the threat has arrived at the door. When he didn't know if he was ready yet. The realization hit him like a physical blow. "Well," Edward said, his voice remarkably steady despite his racing thoughts. "Shit just went from one to a hundred real quick." The Anti-Monitor's empty eyes blazed brighter, amusement radiating from that cosmic horror. "Indeed, anomaly. Indeed."