Reverse-decryption work and military mobilization ran in parallel. Thea went alone into the cosmos to recruit allies. Her Ruichi Swarm couldn't be deployed to fight alongside humans—bugs just looked evil—so her target was the one she'd already floated to Batman: the seven Lantern Corps.
The Blackest Night, the Brightest Day, the First Lantern—all of those were Corps problems too. She'd done more than enough favors for them. It was time they contributed to a dimensional war.
But the rings wouldn't function in a parallel timeline. After several rounds of discussion, her four Underworld advisors solved the problem.
The Ring of Volthoom was packed with raw emotion. It could stand in for a central power battery and supply energy remotely.
Purifying the ring while also providing ammunition support? Thea approved.
The Lantern Corps had sufficient mid- and low-tier strength, but their top-end firepower was wanting. Taking on the Anti-Monitor and dark-Thea alone would be steep, even for her. She needed a heavy hitter of her own.
Two days of searching the multiverse later, she found the Spectre.
She came right to the point: she wanted to eliminate Eclipso.
The Spectre looked at her for a long time. Eventually a single word came out. "Acceptable."
Thea almost tripped. Acceptable, my ass! I'm here to recruit a muscle-man. Stop playing dumb!
She had more confidence these days. In a real fight she'd still probably lose—but the gap wasn't the canyon it used to be.
"Would you agree to be my host? I can elevate your strength without limit." After a long silence, the Spectre came out with that.
Thea blinked. She actually did think it through. It was a seductive offer.
The Spectre was constrained by his host. The stronger the host, the more of his power he could express. A host like Thea, only half a tier below him—close enough to call it peers—
She'd be invincible. Their powers wouldn't just add—they'd multiply.
At that point Darkseid and Eclipso wouldn't even be in the conversation.
Thea's eyes lit up. Fused with the Spectre, she'd have nothing to fear even from Lucifer—God's own son. The catch? That power wouldn't be hers. It belonged to God.
Thea wasn't that ambitious. She wasn't going to stand in the street shouting some grand heaven-defying slogan. She just wanted to be herself. The road ahead was uncertain, but it wasn't a dead end. No need to walk God's path.
She sighed. Her eyes filled with regret. "Sorry. I just want to be me. Let's get back to the Eclipso question."
The Spectre remained expressionless, as if he'd expected her refusal. He pivoted back to Eclipso without hesitation.
"How do you plan to handle him?"
Thea wanted to say, You tank. I'll scavenge. But she knew that wouldn't fly. The Spectre didn't do small talk—he wasn't an idiot.
She'd done her homework, but there were still gaps. "What kind of being is Eclipso, exactly? Does he have a weakness?"
"Eclipso is God's Spirit of Vengeance. My predecessor. In his current state he can't deploy his full strength."
Leaking information—finally! Thea pressed. "Why?"
"His true body is still sealed inside the Heart of Darkness."
"Sealed by whom?"
"God."
Thea went silent. Privately she grumbled. The boss's creation powers are impressive, but His sealing technique has to be mediocre at best, right? What kind of seal lets the target stroll right out?
The Spectre continued. "Eclipso corrupts the negative emotions of living beings. You need to be ready."
Thea brushed it off. No problem. Heroes had iron willpower. They fought negative emotions every day before breakfast. If that was Eclipso's best, he was about done.
"Is the Heart of Darkness still around? Can we just seal him up again?" She had no desire to fight a genuinely bad matchup. This wasn't a game; there was no first-kill loot. Just danger and expended effort. She really didn't want this fight.
Resealing him would be so much cleaner.
But she also knew it wouldn't be that easy. Sure enough, the Spectre spoke again. "The Heart of Darkness is Eclipso now. They've fused."
Thea frowned. So sealing was off the table?
Eclipso had been sealed into a rock by God, couldn't escape, and so had done something clever instead: he'd rewritten the rock into part of himself. Slick move.
"What was the Heart of Darkness made of? Is there any more of it in the universe?" she pressed.
Not a big problem. He corrupted a small rock? We'll find a bigger one and seal him into that. Eclipso, plus the small rock, into the big rock. Let's see him corrupt again—we'll find a still bigger one. Rocks were in plentiful supply. Whoever burned out first lost.
Unknowable something flickered in the Spectre's gaze. "The Heart of Darkness was an artifact of the Highest Order. This universe will never produce another. I advise you to abandon that line of thinking. Simply separate him from his host and ensure no living being ever makes contact with him again."
Thea kept her skepticism to herself. If the stone was really that exceptional, how did Eclipso manage to corrupt it from within? Putting herself in God's shoes: the boss was a busy man, almost certainly gave the Eclipso problem zero serious thought, grabbed the nearest rock, slapped on a seal, and moved on.
The Spectre's plan wasn't a plan. Separate Eclipso from the host, bury Eclipso plus the Heart of Darkness in a hole, and call it done? Then the next poor soul to dig him up is just unlucky? Heroes reconvene, call in mighty Thea again, assembly raid, kill him again?
A rematch every century, forever, until the heat death of the universe. An exceedingly tedious loop.
She asked the Spectre a few more questions. He wasn't forthcoming with much more. But she got the broader picture: he'd been dueling Eclipso for untold ages. Mostly winning. Predecessor versus successor—the Spectre had a solid edge.
Thea suspected he was just lonely. Nothing at his tier to sharpen against. Every century or so he'd look the other way, let Eclipso find a host, then enjoy the brawl.
Handing Eclipso off to the Spectre was fine. But the Anti-Monitor might show up at a critical moment, so she still needed backup muscle.
...
Parallel universe. By the non-canonical naming system, this would be Earth-10—or Earth-X.
Because here, Kal-El had landed in Czechoslovakia. Germany had won World War II. History was unrecognizable.
The New Gods' Mother Box didn't use that numbering system, of course. They had their own.
A vast host of Parademons had descended on this universe. Giving wide berth to Earth—they were wary of a certain Earth-born powerhouse—they kept their distance.
"Pfft!" One axe-stroke ended another rebel. Steppenwolf wiped the fresh blood spray from his cheek, savoring the hate-filled glare in the dying eyes.
Not because he enjoyed being cursed at—though a few curses a day kept the restlessness away. His divine mantle required it. Manufacture hatred. Absorb hatred. Hatred was the wellspring of Steppenwolf's power.