"You know, I'm thinking clearly again. So I guess that five-billion-year sleep was necessary after all," Max said.
He sat across from Ion in the black void that was the Source.
Ever since Max had emerged from stasis, Veridion had pressed him to commune with Ion, arguing that the divide between his mortal consciousness and his cosmic self was at the root of nearly every problem he still faced.
Max agreed. He would not have before his five-billion-year sleep, but now he felt energized. His depression had not completely vanished, but he felt optimistic. He tried to block out the negativity and focus on moving forward.
So Max had spent the last few years doing exactly what his Celestial friend had asked of him, communing with Ion and trying to understand their connection. The process was slow and often frustrating, but it was working. He was beginning to understand the cosmos in ways he had barely comprehended before. He was learning what he had become and, more importantly, what he refused to become.
"How are the others?" Max asked.
Ion turned its head slightly, and Max followed its gaze into the distance, where the other lights hovered.
They were not fully present in this place. They were only impressions, presences more than shapes, but Max could distinguish them now. Blue remained calm and distant. Indigo felt quiet and strange. Violet was warm in a way that still unsettled him. Red simmered. Orange tried to hide.
Yellow...
"Yeah," Max said. "Parallax is still a problem. We should probably do something about that. Cage it or something."
Ion said nothing.
Most of their conversations were only partly verbal. Max would speak, and Ion would answer with silence, but somehow Max understood. It was less like talking to another person and more like arguing with another part of his own existence.
He looked again at the distant lights.
Parts of them had come from him too. He remembered enough of that first moment now. Most of what he had been had gone into Ion, but not all of it. The emotions within him at the moment of creation had erupted outward and given the other entities enough substance to exist. Rage, fear, hope, love, avarice, and compassion had all been part of him before they became part of everything.
Max frowned thoughtfully.
He had been circling the idea for a long time, and each time he did, it became harder to dismiss.
Maybe he could learn to wield them all.
Maybe he could master every part of the Spectrum instead of only the green light. If he did that, if he truly understood and integrated all seven emotional lights, then...
"A White Lantern," Max said aloud.
Ion turned its head back toward him.
"That would make me one of the most powerful beings in the multiverse," Max said.
He waited, then nodded slowly to himself.
"Yeah, I think so too. It could be very dangerous, though. Maybe it should only be a last resort, in case some multiverse-ending being comes my way."
Another silence followed.
Max exhaled and leaned back on his hands. "This has been a good session, Ion. I'm still not sold on the whole Corps thing, though. I don't even know where to start. I can't even sleep for another billion years because Veridion decided that was a bad idea."
Ion did not react.
Max looked at him, then laughed quietly.
"Here I am, talking to myself. Literally."
The darkness dissolved.
Max opened his eyes.
He was sitting on Veridion's shoulder as the Celestial moved through space.
Stars drifted past them in slow rivers of light. Nebulae glowed in the distance. Ever since Max had awakened from his five-billion-year slumber, he had been traveling with Veridion while the young Celestial performed his duties. At the moment, those duties mostly involved planetary creation, guided seeding, occasional corrections, and, on rarer occasions, destruction.
Max enjoyed the destruction part more than he probably should have.
"You are awake," Veridion said.
"Yes," Max replied. "And it was a good session."
"That is encouraging."
"I still don't want to become one with Ion, so if you were hoping for a breakthrough, sorry."
Veridion continued moving through the void. "You should master and unify with your greater aspect."
"That," Max said, pointing at him, "is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. I want to access Ion's power without being overwhelmed by him. I still want to be Max."
Veridion considered that. "I will never understand your desire to emulate mortality."
"Well, you wouldn't, would you?"
The Celestial did not answer. They continued in silence until the stars ahead shifted and a new system came into view. Veridion slowed.
"I intend to judge this system," he said.
Max groaned. "Okay, big guy, that is the most boring part of this whole arrangement."
"Judgment is necessary."
"I'm sure it is. Still boring." Max stood on Veridion's shoulder and stretched. "How about we meet again in the three-hundred-and-forty-fifth quadrant? I'm going to travel alone for a while."
Veridion turned his head slightly. "That is acceptable. We will meet there."
"Great." Max stepped off the Celestial's shoulder and floated in open space. "Now I need to figure out what I'm going to do for the next million years."
He flew off in a random direction.
The silence of space no longer bothered him the way it once might have. If anything, it had become too familiar. What he missed was Jade's voice. More than once, he had caught himself wanting to ask her opinion about some star system or another, only to remember that the ring remained only partially restored.
He accelerated, crossed the edge of a nearby system, and slowed near its outermost world, an icy body wrapped in pale storms. He landed on a ridge of blue-white stone and sat there for a while, looking inward at the system's distant blue star.
Six billion years still remained.
He could not return to stasis for a long time, not if Veridion's warnings were to be believed.
So what was he supposed to do?
His thoughts returned, as they often did, to the Corps.
Rings.
The Central Power Battery.
It would give him something to do during all this waiting, something good he could create for the universe.
But how did someone even begin creating a Central Power Battery?
Max stood and took off again, drifting through the system more slowly as he passed one planet after another. He kept turning the idea over in his mind. The Battery was the real challenge. He and Veridion were already studying his ring, so perhaps they could eventually replicate it.
The Battery was different.
It was a stable reservoir of willpower that supplied energy to Green Lanterns in every corner of the universe. How the fuck was he supposed to create something like that?
Veridion could help.
Max had mentioned the idea more than once, and each time, the Celestial had replied with some version of the same answer: insufficient data.
Honestly, Max needed him.
If he went forward with the Corps idea, six billion years was more than enough time to work out the theory, develop the necessary tools, and build the foundation. By the time he returned to his own era, he would be ready to establish the Corps.
He was still considering how that might work when he reached the fourth planet.
Then he stopped.
Suspended above the world was a ship so massive that its gravity was pulling the planet toward it. From a distance, it looked almost like a planet that had been reshaped into a city. Vast metallic structures curved across its surface. Towering spires rose from it, and its shadow covered the entire world below.
Max stared at it.
"What the hell?"
He flew toward the planet. He entered the atmosphere at high speed and saw the trouble immediately. One of the cities was in chaos.
No, all of them were.
The entire world was in chaos.
This world was in trouble.
This world needed a hero.
This world needed the Green Lantern.
Max slowed in the sky and looked at his ring.
"Yeah," he muttered. "It's time."
He focused.
Green light spread over him in interlocking layers, shaping itself into armor. Plates of deep emerald edged in white covered his torso and limbs in segmented layers, with a black underlayer visible between them. Across his chest, the Lantern emblem sat within a bold circular field.
Max formed a mirror construct in front of himself and gave the result an appraising look.
"Something's missing," he muttered.
He studied his reflection for another second, then grinned.
An emerald cape appeared across his shoulders and flowed behind him in a long trail of green light.
"There we go."
Max smiled at the sight and flew down at high speed.
The Green Lantern was back.
.
.
.
Taneleer Tivan watched his servants carry the planet's valuables toward his ship.
There was little time left.
The city around him was coming apart. Its inhabitants were a violet-skinned species with four arms and broad, angular faces. Some carried children, while others dragged the wounded through the ruined streets. Many simply stood frozen, unable to decide which direction offered the smallest chance of survival.
Tivan had not come to help them.
He had come to preserve what they would leave behind.
His servants moved through museums, archives, temples, and government buildings, removing objects of historical or artistic value before the destruction could claim them. Information about the species was catalogued before being transported aboard his ship.
Collecting had become a hobby during his long existence, though Tivan preferred to think of it as a service. He had done this countless times before. Civilizations rose, flourished, and vanished with astonishing speed when viewed across cosmic ages. Tivan preserved what remained, ensuring that their achievements were not entirely lost when their worlds died.
This species would not be forgotten.
They would be remembered by him.
A deep crack rolled through the city. Tivan looked up as one of the largest buildings began to collapse. The upper structure tipped toward the street, carrying thousands of tons of stone and metal toward a crowd trapped below.
The civilians screamed.
"Oh well," Tivan muttered as he turned toward his ship.
Then the screaming stopped.
The expected impact never came.
Tivan paused and looked back.
A massive emerald hand had caught the falling building before it reached the street. Green fingers wrapped around the structure, holding it steady while dozens of smaller hands formed throughout the city. They lifted civilians from broken streets, pulled survivors from beneath the rubble, and carried the injured toward open ground beyond the worst of the destruction.
Above them floated a man surrounded by emerald light.
A long green cape flowed behind him as he directed the constructs with both hands. More supports formed beneath damaged towers, locking them in place. Wide platforms lifted entire groups of civilians away from collapsing districts, while barriers spread across the streets to shield those still trying to escape.
Tivan watched in fascination as the stranger secured most of the city within minutes.
His first instinct was to collect him.
A being capable of manipulating energy with such precision would be an extraordinary addition to Tivan's collection. That thought lasted only until he sensed the power within the stranger.
It was vast. Far greater than he had expected.
The man had to be like him.
An immortal.
Perhaps he was the last survivor of some forgotten species.
Tivan had always believed there were others scattered throughout the universe, beings like him. The stranger seemed to be proof.
The emerald man flew toward him and landed among the ruins.
"Who are you?" the stranger asked. "And why aren't you helping these people? You have a ship large enough to evacuate most of them."
Tivan glanced toward the vessel hanging above the world.
"I was going to," he lied.
The stranger stared at him.
Tivan suspected the lie had not been convincing.
"And you are?" the man asked.
Tivan bowed with practiced grace. "I am Taneleer Tivan, head of the Tivan Group."
The stranger's expression changed slightly at the name. It was brief, but Tivan noticed the recognition.
Tivan studied him more closely. "Who are you?"
The stranger hesitated.
"My name is Ma..." He stopped and looked down at the emblem on his chest. "My name is Ion."
A strong name, Tivan thought.
"Lord Ion," Tivan said, "this world is doomed. There is nothing either of us can do for its people."
"There is always something we can do." Ion looked toward the destruction spreading across the city. "What exactly is happening here?"
Tivan stared at him for a moment, then raised one hand and pointed toward the horizon.
Ion followed the gesture.
Far beyond the city, a colossal figure stood near a large mountain. Galactus towered above the landscape, his armor burning with cosmic energy as he battled six smaller beings.
Ion blinked.
"How the fuck did I miss that?"
"They appeared shortly before I arrived," Tivan said. "Their battle began on the opposite side of the planet."
Ion narrowed his eyes at the distant giant. "Is that Galactus?"
"I see you are familiar with the Devourer."
"Well, yes. He and I crossed into this universe together, after all."
Tivan turned toward him sharply.
The statement had been delivered casually, as though Ion had mentioned arriving from another planet rather than another cosmos. If what he said was true, then the being standing before Tivan was older than the universe itself.
Tivan's interest deepened.
"So Galactus is eating the planet," Ion continued, "and those six are trying to stop him."
Tivan shook his head. "No. Galactus is attempting to stop them."
Ion looked back at him.
"The six beings are Elder Gods, corrupted ones, from what I can determine. I believe the Devourer is trying to prevent some design of theirs. Their conflict is what has destabilized the planet."
Ion watched the battle for several seconds.
"Huh. That is surprising."
Then he smiled.
"I guess I should help him."
He rose several feet into the air before looking back at Tivan.
"Try to evacuate as many people as you can. My constructs are spread across the world, helping wherever they're needed. You could lend a hand."
Before Tivan could answer, Ion shot toward the horizon in a streak of emerald light.
Tivan watched him disappear.
His original plan had been to leave before the world collapsed.
But Ion had asked him to help.
Tivan looked toward the civilians being carried to safety by emerald hands and guided into large emerald ships.
Perhaps he would remain a little longer.
After all, he wanted to make a new friend.
And first impressions were important.
.
.
Max new look.
You can read up to chapter 90 here.
p.a.t.r.eon.com/Illusiveone (check the chapter summary i have it there as well)