"Damn it, even if he's unreliable, he's gotta be stronger than Mogo, right?!
Cut the chatter and hold the line!"
Bazz barked the order, then retracted his green light. Like an ordinary little bee, he found a corner and opened a comm channel.
While Gambino and the others settled into their defensive positions, the real war on Colu finally erupted.
Bazz, Abin, the rest of them…
The three of them were nothing more than a handful of shrimp tossed into the vast ocean of Colu's battlefield.
Whether it was Brainiac, or Glorious Godfrey with his endless legions—
Not a single one of them spared these three a glance.
Case in point: before Apokolips launched its assault on Colu, Brainiac hadn't even bothered to show his face.
Three Green Lanterns. He'd classified them as a low-level threat, which in Brainiac's calculus meant essentially *no* threat at all.
But now…
The moment Glorious Godfrey's slaves—collected across countless parallel universes—poured onto Colu in one massive wave…
From the deepest reaches underground, Brainiac's utterly emotionless voice rang out.
"Emergency protocol. Assessment: standard Apokoliptian biological incursion. Threat level three. Activating planetary defense systems. Granting authorization for condensed-state biological weapons engagement."
Following the command of the intelligence core, even as the creatures flooding out of the Boom Tubes collided with Brainiac's bio-mechanical soldiers, the ground erupted. More of those ghostly entities—seemingly composed entirely of smoke—surged upward in vast swarms, condensing into weaponized forms as they rocketed skyward.
They darted, they leaped, they phased through the bodies of every enemy in their path.
Every living thing they passed through had its organs flash-frozen in an instant, dropping dead without a sound.
In barely a dozen seconds, the death toll on Colu had already surpassed the hundreds of thousands.
Because Godfrey's slaves and Brainiac's bio-soldiers had spread across virtually every inch of the planet's surface.
This wasn't some petty skirmish between factions within a single civilization. This was two apex powers of the current universe testing each other's boundaries.
How long do you think it would take a civilization like this to invade Earth?
Could Earth hold out for three days?
Not a chance!
That'd be about as laughable as Iraq lasting three days!
If this kind of firepower rained down on Earth—without heavyweights like Heisenberg or Superman standing in the way—
Earth wouldn't survive three waves of probing attacks!
Hell, it might not survive even *one*!
Inside the Green Light Maze, Abin and the other two—who had long since been swallowed by the chaos of battle—actually found things getting easier.
Once Brainiac's forces emerged from underground, they were no longer the sole target in the Apokoliptians' crosshairs.
Because now the Apokoliptians had far more enemies to worry about.
It bought Bazz the time he needed.
He opened his comm, connected to Mogo, and heard Heisenberg's voice.
Bazz rattled off every piece of intel at top speed.
But just as he was about to disconnect, the green light maze shattered.
Turned out the conspicuous structure had drawn far too much fire from Colu's bio-mechanical defenses.
After Gambino held it together through sheer grit for as long as he could, it finally gave way.
Once the maze crumbled, Gambino calmly scooped up Bazz, and together with Abin, the three bolted toward the distance.
The pandemonium of the battlefield provided perfect cover, making their movements considerably easier.
As they fled, Gambino shot Bazz a question.
"So? Managed to get word to that supreme lord of yours?"
"Got through. He should be here before long!"
"Ha, 'before long.' That probably still means hours."
Gambino shook his head dismissively, then swung his sword in a clean arc, bisecting a xenomorph that lunged at his flank.
Hearing Gambino's skepticism, Bazz let out a sly chuckle.
"Nowhere near as long as you think. His Lordship has interstellar teleportation technology!"
"Oho. Now *that's* impressive."
Gambino gave a genuine whistle of appreciation, then snapped his left hand up and roared.
"Heads up—plasma cutting grid! Planet-scale!!!"
"Copy!"
"On it!"
The instant Gambino's warning left his lips, Colu's entire surface became encased in a lattice of interlocking plasma beams, shifting between blue and green.
Under Brainiac's control, the beams swept back and forth in precise, methodical patterns, scouring every single corner of the airspace up to twenty meters above the surface.
The three Green Lanterns reacted instantly, shooting skyward in unison and throwing up protective barriers of green light, cocooning themselves completely.
But the creatures pouring out of the Boom Tubes weren't so fortunate.
Of the roughly two hundred and sixty million slave warriors now on Colu's surface, at least nine-tenths perished in a single instant.
Aside from those capable of flight, and a handful of powerhouses like the parallel-universe Lanterns—
Every other living thing was reduced to wet paste.
Blood and viscera sprayed in every direction. Severed limbs and shattered bones fell like endless rain.
"Now *that's* a show! How long has it been since I've seen a proper carpet-clean like this? Colu's military hardware is definitely stronger than Oa's!"
Gambino whooped with excitement, then calmly produced a cigar and lit it.
Between puffs, he glanced toward the nearest Boom Tube and shouted over the din.
"They're really going at it. Let's duck down and watch the fireworks!
Your lord better get here soon. Who knows what other planet-level weapons Colu's got in reserve.
Ion beams are the mild option. If they start throwing particle streams at us, we're in real trouble."
Gambino barely finished the sentence before Abin cut him off sharply.
"Shut your mouth, would you? Keep talking and they'll pull out a two-dimensional foil next!"
The words were barely out of his mouth when Abin yanked hard on his flight path, narrowly dodging a beam attack from some unidentifiable source.
To the three Green Lanterns, the sky in every direction was a kaleidoscope of detonations.
Beams. Particles. Seven-Lantern energy. Shockwaves.
Incaculable amounts of energy relentlessly pulverized every inch of terrain around them.
And yet—none of it produced so much as a flicker of genuine anxiety in any of the three.
They chatted and laughed, strolling through the warzone with the casual ease of men taking an evening walk, until they reached a stretch of hills temporarily clear of hostiles. They found a low dip on the mountainside and hunkered down.
The ground beneath their feet and backsides trembled ceaselessly. A massive Titanian took a direct hit from one of Colu's omnipresent particle cannons.
The impact landed not far from where the three sat. The Titanian's explosion made an elephant's corpse-burst look like a firecracker by comparison.
Gambino flicked his cigar with visible irritation—a chunk of flesh had landed on it.
Ashing off the debris, he muttered under his breath and raised a green energy shield.
"Watch it. Another planet-level ion sweep. I clocked it—three minutes, fifteen seconds per cycle."
"Huh. That recharge efficiency blows every planetary defense system I've ever seen out of the water. Brainiac really does know his craft," Abin marveled.
At Abin's words, Bazz gave his wings a little shudder.
"He knows a lot more than just his craft. Look at what I'm seeing right now.
South—over five hundred klicks out and you can still see that pulse column. That's a star-class directional impact array, isn't it?!
And that little black dot in the distance—how far, two hundred klicks maybe?
That's a black hole generator, isn't it?
Within my line of sight alone, Brainiac's arsenal is enough to fight a genuine top-tier cosmic war. Wiping out a Level 10 civilization? No problem whatsoever."
"Heh. He's invaded more than one or two Level 11 civilizations already."
Gambino let out a low laugh and took a long, heavy drag on his cigar.
Just then, Bazz's communicator chirped.
…
At that very moment, within the Divine Kingdom.
Heisenberg stood clad in the Abyss Walker armor, towering before the fully assembled force.
Before him, one hundred thousand Amazon warriors stood in pristine battle formation, flanked by thirty thousand Atlantean soldiers temporarily mobilized from the Kingdom of Xebel.
At the very front of the formation stood all one hundred and twenty-two combat-sequence warriors of Krypton's Military Guild, practically vibrating with anticipation for Heisenberg's command.
Meanwhile, at Heisenberg's left, Clark caught sight of the Kryptonian warriors' ranks and drew a deep breath.
"Great-grandfather… should I match the dress code?"
"Hm?"
Heisenberg glanced back, and immediately understood what Clark meant.
He gave a small nod.
Reading Heisenberg's approval, Clark nodded in turn, then raised both hands and spoke softly to the air.
"Divine Kingdom—issue me combat uniform."
The moment the words left his lips, the omnipresent intelligence of the Divine Kingdom responded.
Kryptonian gravity particles swirled and coalesced around Clark, layering themselves onto his body.
In an instant, Clark's familiar deep-blue suit transformed into the same profound, absolute black worn by the hundred-odd Kryptonian warriors before him.
He clenched his fists, feeling the power the new suit channeled into him.
The black suit was designed to maximize solar absorption efficiency. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't wear it.
In the comics and films, Superman always entered a period of weakness after death and resurrection.
During that recovery, he'd don the black suit to accelerate his absorption of sunlight, gradually rebuilding his combat strength.
So in the original DC universe, whenever Superman wore black—barring instances of him going dark—it meant he'd just returned from death.
But now.
Looking at the one hundred and twenty-two warriors clad in black before him, Clark felt a sudden, fierce desire to earn their acknowledgment.
On Krypton, black was the color of the Military Guild. The black combat suit was a warrior's birthright.
Unlike Bruce and the others, Clark was far more eager for this war than any of them.
Because he was Kryptonian. And this mission was to save his people.
Today, he would be a pure warrior.
Today, he would not be everyone's hero—only Krypton's.
He would prove himself through action, earn the respect of every soldier under Fiona's command!
Beside him, Bruce regarded the black-suited Superman with an impassive expression.
For reasons he couldn't name, something in him loosened.
Just a month ago, he'd assumed his life's heroic work was essentially set in stone.
He'd figured his existence would amount to brawling in Gotham's alleys, punctuated by the occasional rivalry with this particular alien.
But in a single month, Bruce had been blindsided by Doomsday, the Sun God, and Darkseid—one revelation after another.
And now, here he was, about to travel across incomprehensible distances of space to fight in a genuine interstellar war.
At that thought, Bruce tightened the seal on his rebreather. Interstellar war, huh?
Good thing he'd prepared a suit capable of operating in vacuum.
He looked down at the heavy gauntlets encasing his forearms.
He'd named this armor the Thresher. Its primary material was Kryptonian gravity particles, alloyed with terrestrial titanium and bismuth. It could withstand extreme heat and extreme cold alike, and absorb or deflect energy impacts up to and including heat vision.
Most critically, it provided independent oxygen supply.
Of course, given the rushed construction timeline, the Thresher didn't have many bells and whistles yet. But as his tool for a first cosmic war, it was more than qualified.
While Bruce ran his final equipment check, Heisenberg raised his right hand.
The light of the Bifrost descended without a sound, and in the blink of an eye, the Divine Kingdom's vessel was delivered to the coordinates of Bazz's signal.
/-\
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