As the saying goes, a man who commits many injustices is bound to bring about his own destruction.
Perhaps Ian was about to demonstrate the literal truth of this maxim to the entire world through his own impending reality.
The Dark Lord, Darkseid, was actively moving.
On the other side of Earth, Trigon's cultists had begun to act like sharks catching the scent of blood, quietly submerging into the deep ocean of information to uncover everything regarding Ian Kent.
For many individuals, this night was still far from over.
Undercurrents were surging in deeper, darker places.
At the periphery of the universe lay a domain of absolute void, a place untouched even by starlight.
There was no matter here, no energy, and even the very concept of time appeared heavily blurred. There was only an eternal, suffocating silence capable of swallowing all hope. Even the most fearless interstellar explorers would not dare steer their starships into this airspace, which was strictly mapped as an Absolute Forbidden Zone.
Yet, at the center of this void where even gods might experience profound loneliness, a colossal figure radiating majesty and ruin floated quietly.
He was none other than Darkseid.
Upon his stone-like body, marks still remained from when he was purified by Ian's Planet-Shattering Fist—subtle golden fractures resembling cracked porcelain.
The injuries clung to him like maggots on a corpse.
Even though he had been resurrected, he had failed to purge the lingering effects of that attack.
Of course, these fractures were currently being covered and repaired by a deeper darkness at a speed visible to the naked eye, though it promised to be an incredibly drawn-out process.
Darkseid raised a hand to lightly touch his face.
Hatred.
Malice.
His entire heart was consumed by them.
His eyes, burning with the Omega Effect, were colder and deeper than ever before, looking like two black holes on the verge of collapsing.
"I will rise and return once more."
Presently, he possessed absolutely nothing.
Apokolips had been erased from existence by an unknown entity, his massive Parademon army had dissolved into ash, and his loyal Dark Elite were completely unaccounted for. A monarch had lost his kingdom, his military, and his very foundation.
But!
He did not weaken because of this adversity; instead, he exuded an even more dangerous, heart-stopping aura. An absolute authority—one that felt as if it touched the fundamental rules of the cosmos—was steadily surfacing.
"Hmph..."
A low snort, sounding as though it echoed from the depths of an ancient glacier, shattered the absolute silence of the void. Darkseid slowly raised an arm clad in pitch-black armor.
Facing the endless darkness ahead, he suddenly clenched his fist!
There was no earth-shattering explosion, nor any blinding flash of streaming energy. But the very moment his fingers snapped shut, the absolute void directly in front of him began to twist and boil! It was as if an invisible, colossal brush forged from cosmic laws was using the darkness as a canvas and memory as paint to create a mad masterpiece!
Matter was forcibly extracted from nothingness and given shape! Energy was granted physical form from a conceptual level! The structural makeup of space itself was violently rewritten!
The jagged, colossal outline of a living planet, its surface veined with rivers of molten lava and terrifying spires, began to transition from a blur to crystal clarity at an astonishing speed!
It materialized entirely out of nothing!
It was Apokolips!
However, it was not the genuine Apokolips of old.
It was merely a projection reconstructed by Darkseid, utilizing his supreme will and a newly acquired power, entirely based upon his own memories and cognition!
A replica forged collectively by the raw power of a dark New God and the authority of reality alteration!
If any ancient entities in the universe were to witness this terrifying spectacle, they would undoubtedly be horrified to their very cores! This transcended mere energy creation; this was creating something out of nothing—the supreme, reality-warping authority to rewrite existence!
This was absolutely not an ability Darkseid originally possessed! His experience of dying and being reborn seemed to have connected him to an even more terrifying, fundamental source of power.
The replicated Apokolips hovered silently in the void. While it lacked the surging vitality of a genuine living planet, the dark aura and destructive intent radiating from it were identical to the original. Soon, a bone-chilling commotion began to echo from within the spires.
It was the sound of flesh fusing with machinery.
And—a low, unified roar!
Parademons!
An infinite, newborn army of Parademons began to swarm out from the incubation pools of those spires like a rising tide!
Their twisted bodies, scarlet compound eyes, and absolute obedience toward destruction and conquest were indistinguishable from the legions in Darkseid's memory!
Even though these were merely creations projected from his mind, they could still provide him with an immense, fearless military force to serve as the cornerstone for his renewed path of conquest!
"The one thing I do not lack is time."
Darkseid gazed upon this territory he had personally "recalled" into existence. No joy surfaced in his crimson eyes; there was only the familiar, unyielding coldness and an absolute desire for dominance.
"The Source Wall..."
He murmured in a low voice, his words echoing through the void insulated by his power, carrying an unshakeable certainty, "...will ultimately fail to escape my conquest."
Evidently, the resurrected Darkseid had not only obtained new power but had also become aware of certain pieces of information that he absolutely should not have access to at this current stage.
That ultimate barrier, which imprisoned countless ancient evil deities and divided the known universe from the unknown, no longer seemed like an impassable chasm in his eyes.
Right at that moment.
Suddenly.
"Your efficiency is higher than I anticipated." A calm, ethereal voice that seemed to transcend both gender and emotion abruptly echoed within the void blanketed by Darkseid's power. This voice did not travel through any physical medium; it was an exchange that acted directly upon the conscious mind.
Darkseid did not turn around. Not a single trace of surprise showed on his stone-like face, as if he had long been aware of the other party's presence. He merely responded in his deep rumble.
"The matters we agreed upon did not include restricting my range of activity." Darkseid seemed to know exactly who the voice belonged to, harboring no doubts whatsoever.
"Of course."
The ethereal voice spoke once more, carrying a detached indifference, "As long as you perform what you are supposed to do, I will not concern myself with any of your other... playground-like ambitions."
This response left Darkseid noncommittal.
"I am already taking action."
Darkseid stated, his crimson gaze remaining fixed on the projection of Apokolips ahead as it continuously spawned Parademons. "A seed has already been planted. I merely await the right opportunity..."
He paused slightly.
He did not finish his sentence.
For the first time, his massive head slowly turned toward the direction from which the voice originated. His scarlet gaze, resembling two sharp swords forged from rules of total destruction, pierced into the deep darkness.
"However, I am curious."
Darkseid shifted the topic, his tone carrying a hint of inquiry. "Though my recent trip to Earth was brief, I managed to gather some... interesting information."
He intentionally slowed his speech, letting every word carry immense weight. "I discovered... that you and that boy—Ian Kent—seem to have... quite a good relationship?"
This was not a question; it was a statement made with a level of confirmation.
"Yet you... resurrected me, someone who stands as their enemy and who very nearly destroyed the Earth." Darkseid voiced his question, which was a riddle that had consistently lingered in his mind regarding the motives of this "collaborator." This entity's actions were riddled with contradictions.
"Heh, how incredibly suspicious." Facing Darkseid's sharp, scrutinizing gaze, the darkness in the void slowly parted like a set of curtains toward both sides.
A figure stepped out from the absolute nothingness, one pace at a time.
Her stature was tall and elegant, and she wore a long gown that seemed woven from the eternal night sky, its hem flowing with the faint shimmer of stardust and finality.
This mature woman was casually eating ice cream, yet her face was breathtakingly beautiful, carrying an absolute serenity and void that transcended any mortal comprehension of life.
Her eyes resembled two infinitely miniaturized remnants of universes slowly succumbing to heat death, reflecting the ultimate end of all things.
Her attire bore no symbolic trinkets or items, but her presence alone was the living incarnation of the concept of the "End" across the entire cosmos.
This person was none other than a member of the Endless, the one who held absolute authority over the final destination of all living things in the universe—Death!
Mistress Death stood there quietly, as if she naturally belonged in any location, including this void artificially defined by Darkseid's power.
She calmly met Darkseid's scarlet gaze, which burned with the desire for ruin.
Regarding Darkseid's sharp, core-piercing question, no emotional fluctuation surfaced on her exquisite face. She merely spoke clearly in her ethereal tone that transcended all earthly sounds.
"I am also simply doing what I am supposed to do."
Her answer was almost identical to the response Darkseid had given her moments earlier.
Darkseid's rocky brow furrowed imperceptibly. This answer was far too vague, far too... perfectly aligned with the characteristic of "Death" itself.
Permanently shrouded in an unreadable mist.
"What you are supposed to do?" Darkseid repeated, light flickering within his scarlet eyes. "Resurrecting me and disrupting a established destiny is also part of what you are 'supposed' to do? From what I know, the Endless—especially you—have always leaned toward... maintaining a certain balance rather than actively making waves."
Mistress Death's eyes, which held the quietude of a dying universe, seemed to shift slightly. Her gaze appeared to pierce right through Darkseid, looking toward some far more distant, fundamental "structure."
"The flow of life and death, the alternation of existence and void, is inherently a dynamic process. At times, to maintain 'balance' on a grander scale, or to drive a certain... necessary 'cycle,' some localized 'imbalances' and 'variables' must be deliberately set into motion."
Her gaze refocused on Darkseid, containing absolutely no emotion—only the pure calmness of viewing an "inevitable process."
"Your existence, your ambition, your power... as well as your 'failure' and 'rebirth' are all part of this magnificent cycle."
Death spoke slowly.
"Resurrecting you was not born out of any fondness or dislike for Clark Kent or Ian Kent. It was simply because... you need to exist. At least at this present stage, you need to play your role well and complete your 'scenes.'" Her words sounded as if she were reciting a script that had long been finalized.
And she was merely the stage manager responsible for ensuring the actors were in place and the production moved forward.
"As for my relationship with that child..." Mistress Death's tone remained completely flat, but Darkseid was sharp enough to catch that when she mentioned "that child," the atmosphere of "finality" in the surrounding void experienced an exceptionally subtle, indescribable ripple.
"That is none of your concern, Darkseid." Death's voice returned to absolute calm and coldness. "You only need to remember our agreement. Once you have done what you are supposed to do, you are entirely free to chase your dark crusade, challenge the Source Wall, and realize your so-called 'grand blueprints for empire.'"
"However, should you cross the line, or fail to fulfill your promise..." Mistress Death did not continue, but the absolute silence surrounding her body—an aura that felt capable of bringing forward the heat death of the universe—explained everything.
Darkseid fell silent. His scarlet eyes locked dead onto Death's smooth, emotionless face, attempting to extract more information from those eyes.
Ultimately, he came up completely empty. The way this entity, who represented one of the ultimate rules of the universe, processed thought and motive was far beyond what he could fully calculate.
He only knew that he had been granted an unprecedented opportunity—a chance to stage a comeback handed to him by "Death" herself. Furthermore, he seemed to have been drawn into a game that was far more complex than the mere conquest of the material universe, involving rules of a much higher tier.
And that mortal boy named Ian Kent seemed to occupy a highly unique position on this chessboard, perhaps one that the boy himself had not even realized.
"If I fail to complete the task you assigned to me, what exactly will happen?" Darkseid asked, testing the waters. He was an entity thoroughly accustomed to walking a tightrope.
She was merely one of the Endless.
To Darkseid, they were not some insurmountable mountain to begin with. Mistress Death was perfectly aware of this; the reputation of the Endless might be incredibly terrifying throughout the wider universe.
However.
Before the projection of this high-dimensional being, even the Endless were rules that could be challenged. That being said, Mistress Death had no intention of using threats to manipulate Darkseid.
"Then I can only wish you the best of luck... Trust me, the thing that will come looking for you will be far more terrifying than us, far worse than the most horrific catastrophe your mind could possibly conceive."
Mistress Death stated a plain fact.
She knew perfectly well that he could tell she was telling the truth.
There was not a single shred of exaggeration involved.
And indeed, it was the absolute truth. Darkseid sank into a deeper silence, a trace of confusion and gravity flashing through his eyes, as if he were contemplating what exactly could make even the Endless harbor such dread and apprehension.
After a long while.
"I understand." Darkseid's deep rumble echoed once more, breaking the silence. He did not press further, burying all his doubts and calculations back into the deepest recesses of his heart.
"Ian Kent will meet his fated demise. That is already the very vengeance I intend to exact." Having spoken, he redirected his gaze toward the projection of Apokolips he had reconstructed.
And toward the endless army of Parademons continuously pouring forth.
Darkseid was also speaking the truth.
After all, no matter what kind of secrets and high-level games were hidden behind the curtain, power remained the eternal truth. He needed to recover faster and return significantly stronger.
The dark crusade never halted.
As for the person who had once brought about his setback and killed him a single time, he would naturally never allow that individual to continue living. It was not merely a provocation to his majesty; it was a thorn embedded in his heart.
"It is best that way."
The moment Darkseid turned his gaze back, Mistress Death's figure vanished silently into the void, looking like a drop of ink dissolving perfectly into the background.
It was as if she had never appeared.
Left behind in that space was only Darkseid alongside his dark legions roaring into the nothingness, brewing a terrifying storm at the edge of the universe that was bound to sweep across all of existence.