Originally, Darkseid held the upper hand. However, at the critical moment just before the beams could fire—
*Chila—!*
A new rift tore open from the "sky" of the Lightless Realm. It wasn't scarlet, nor was it dim; it was a fierce, burning black sun. Molten-like patterns flowed along the blade, and wherever the tip pointed, even the deepest darkness retreated. Darkseid looked up sharply, the Omega Beams fluctuating violently in his eyes. He felt a threat—not from mere power, but from the terrifying laws contained within that sword.
"Who?!" he roared, his voice vibrating through the void.
Clark Kent, Ian's father, reached out through the darkness of the Lightless Realm and tightly gripped the Necrosword that had shot through the dimensional rift. When Clark's fingers closed around that cold, wriggling, and malicious hilt, a shiver he had never felt before surged up his arm and straight into his skull.
"Ugh..." Clark let out a suppressed low growl. The whites of his eyes were instantly eroded and filled by the black substance creeping from the sword, turning into two pure, bottomless stars of darkness.
The brilliant golden radiance was suppressed and covered by the void-like black mist emitted by the blade. A layer of flowing, spiked black biological armor rapidly spread along his arm, covering his torso and legs, finally forming a hideous horned helmet on his face that left only his jaw exposed.
A flicker of gloom passed through Clark's eyes, but it was immediately suppressed by a steadfast blue light. He knew this sword was heterodox, but he knew even better that in this moment, only something "unconventional" could restrain true evil. Clark trusted Ian.
Therefore, he did not hesitate. He swung the sword directly at Darkseid.
"Abomination!" the Dark Lord bellowed, no longer able to maintain absolute suppression over the two Golden Supermen beneath his feet. He redirected almost all his power toward Clark.
The Omega Beams, accumulated to their peak in his eyes, turned into two roaring blood-colored rivers—no longer straight beams, but countless tangled, snarling chains of causality. He attempted to fundamentally "define" and "delete" this sword-wielding threat!
If it were the previous Clark, he might have chosen to evade or clash with even stronger energy. But now, driven by the Necrosword's instinct, he made the most direct and terrifying reaction: he gripped the sword with both hands and, facing the scarlet torrent capable of erasing the multiverse, he swung upward with all his might!
*Sira—!*
A sound like heavy fabric being forcibly torn—an ear-piercing screech—shook the entire Lightless Dimension. Wherever the edge of the Necrosword passed, the Omega Beams were actually split open!
"What?!" Darkseid's expression changed for the first time. His Omega Beams, which could evaporate time, space, and the very essence of the universe, were actually being eaten by a sword?
It wasn't energy cancellation or neutralization; it was a more fundamental devouring and negation. Where the blade passed, the scarlet light vanished as if hitting a precipice of nihility. It didn't scatter; it was thoroughly erased from the level of existence, leaving behind two eternal tracks of absolute nothingness devoid of all energy and information.
"It seems you aren't truly invincible!"
Clark's silhouette stood at the center of those two nothingness tracks, breaking through the scarlet tide and rushing toward Darkseid at a speed that transcended physical limits! He shot forward like a cannonball.
The Necrosword seemed to come alive in his hands; as the tip cut through space, it left charred marks like scorched paper. The void beneath Superman's feet collapsed continuously, forming a series of black, footprint-shaped rifts.
This was the power of a God-Slayer weapon. In the Marvel Universe, All-Black the Necrosword was an artifact sourced from the elder evil god Knull, one of the earliest and most representative symbiote weapons.
Its birth was closely tied to Knull's anti-Celestial strategy—as the God of Symbiotes, Knull initially created symbiotes to combat the Celestials. All-Black was forged from the divine fire within the head of a slain Celestial, making it the first true symbiote weapon in the Marvel Universe.
Because it was forged to fight Celestials, it was, from its inception, a weapon designed to deal with god-like beings. It possessed an extremely strong restraining effect against deities.
Whether it was Odin, Thor, or any other cosmic god, the Necrosword could inflict fatal damage. Conveniently, Darkseid was a DC New God, putting him squarely within the Necrosword's range of suppression.
"I have never heard of such a weapon. What extra-universal being have you sold yourself to?" Darkseid's face finally paled. He abandoned all thoughts of tanking the blow; this Dark Lord, famous for absolute power and rule, for the first time prioritized evading above all else!
Darkseid's form blurred, instantly splitting into thousands of phantoms existing in different timelines and dimensional coordinates, each radiating the exact same divine power signature. However, the Necrosword hummed, and Clark didn't even look at the phantoms.
The sword tip pointed directly at the only point among the thousands where the presence was most concentrated—the reality anchor where Darkseid's true body resided! Before the blade even arrived, the chill of denying existence made Darkseid's true skin sting. He was forced to abort his combat plan, his true self shifting sideways in a disheveled manner.
"Darkseid!" Clark roared, his voice exploding in the void and shattering the frozen darkness. He swung the sword—a simple movement imbued with the weight of a thousand tons.
The Necrosword cut the void, and a pitch-black arc of energy flew from the blade. Wherever it went, even the absolute darkness of the Lightless Realm was torn open, revealing the distorted dimensional turbulence behind it.
As a symbiote weapon, All-Black retained some symbiote traits—it could fuse with the wielder's consciousness, enhancing combat perception. Its physical attack power was immense, easily cleaving through divine armor, and its spiked surface enhanced piercing damage.
This weapon was the type where the stronger the wielder, the more power it could unleash. Its core effect was amplifying the wielder's inner strength—not as a simple stat boost, but as a key to unlock potential and break limits. Gorr, a mere mortal, had used it to slaughter most of the gods in the Nine Realms and decapitate a Celestial.
Now, it was in the hands of Superman—the man whose hidden potential was the greatest mystery in the DC Universe. That latent power was being guided out.
"Dammit!" Darkseid's pupils shrank. As a cosmic tyrant in control of the Omega Effect, he had long surpassed mortal perception. But as that sword swung, he felt a sliver of... fear. Not a fear of power, but an instinctive alarm of existence being erased. The aura of the Necrosword resonated with the Source deep within him, as if it wanted to peel him away from the foundation of reality.
"I didn't expect that even you would turn to an outer universe to trade for power... I am disappointed in you, Kryptonian!" With a wave of his hand, Darkseid altered the fundamental laws of the area, stretching the concept of distance to infinity.
The hundred meters between him and Clark now spanned countless expanding universal scales. Simultaneously, he laid down countless god-level traps: Energy Reflection, Conceptual Reversal, and Probability Collapse.
However, the Necrosword erupted with deeper darkness. It ignored all rule-based traps, greedily devouring everything in front of it—space, time, laws, probability... every concept the tip pointed at, regardless of its type, was forcibly treated as food and swallowed into the blade, turning into pure nothingness.
"I think the truth is quite the opposite." Clark's speed hardly slowed; he "ate" a straight vacuum tunnel through that infinitely stretched path in the most brutal way possible!
Darkseid could only hurriedly defend and dodge. His methods became more frequent and more frantic. He even summoned past versions of himself and future projections to flank and interfere, but the Necrosword treated time as just another snack.
He sowed whispers capable of polluting the mind, but Clark's consciousness was currently synced with the sword's pure instinct to devour; those whispers were like pebbles thrown into a black hole—not even an echo remained.
"Today seems like the right time to collect the debt you owe Earth!" Clark's body exploded with unprecedented light—solar energy catalyzed by the Necrosword, a bizarre radiance mixed with the power of death. His speed, strength, and reactions reached an all-time peak.
"Despicable Kryptonian! Despicable! Despicable!" Darkseid raised his arms in a hurried block, the Omega Effect condensing into an indestructible shield. But the moment the Necrosword pierced the shield, it melted like ice and snow. The Dark Lord scrambled to continue dodging.
The older Golden Superman, Kal-El, suddenly plunged both hands into the void beneath his feet. Countless golden chains formed of pure idealistic conviction erupted from his palms—not at Darkseid, but frantically weaving the surrounding spatial structure. The entire Lightless Dimension shook violently.
"Bastard!" The Dark Lord stumbled; not only was his attack interrupted, but he took the full force of his own blow. He looked with shock and rage at the Golden Superman controlling the light.
All dimensional rifts were forcibly closed, and chaotic spacetime parameters were briefly fixed. Darkseid's form, about to tear through dimensions to escape, suddenly froze as if trapped in solidified amber. Although this restraint lasted only a thousandth of a second before his massive divine power broke it, that was enough for a light-speed battle.
Clark's black blade, having broken the Omega Beams, was already closing in! Ian's father was a bolt of lightning woven from gold and pitch-black. The Necrosword stabbed straight for Darkseid's chest! The tip met no resistance because the Golden Superman had briefly hard-crowd-controlled Darkseid for Clark.
The sword cut across Darkseid's raised arm, leaving a pitch-black wound. The wound didn't bleed or heal; instead, it continuously emitted faint black smoke, as if his soul was being severed—like a maggot in the bone, it sought to penetrate and destroy Darkseid's essence.
Naturally, this wouldn't fully succeed; Darkseid's essence was at least at a six-dimensional level. However, Darkseid didn't know that yet, so he panicked for a moment.
"Agh—!" Darkseid let out a roar that shook the dimension. For the first time, he felt pain—not physical pain, but the agony of his divinity being defiled. He could no longer maintain his composure. The tyrant's pride crumbled.
"I will absolutely not die by your hand!" Darkseid made a split-second decision. The massive divine power within him exploded—not to attack, but to forcibly peel the eroded part of his body and a large amount of divine blood away from his main self!
The peeled-off part turned to ash in mid-air and vanished. The Dark Lord glanced at his wound; although the grey-white decay was temporarily stopped, it was still slowly and resolutely eroding him, wearing down his strength and sense of existence, bringing continuous pain like his soul was being gnawed.
At this moment, the Dark Lord knew he had encountered the Unknown. His universal-level knowledge couldn't help him find a solution in a short time. If he kept fighting, he might be "eaten" bit by bit by this heterodox sword!
Without a hint of hesitation, Darkseid gave the black-armored Kryptonian a venomous glare, spun around, and punched through the dimensional wall behind him. Then, he exploded with his full power, firing Omega Beams indiscriminately in all directions to blast a tunnel back to the real universe.
"Trust me, this will not be the end!" he roared, his form retreating rapidly as his massive body plunged into the chaotic spacetime turbulence without hesitation, disappearing into the scarlet rift.
When it came to running away, Darkseid's skill was second to none. Even with the Necrosword squeezing his potential, Clark only had time to swing a final blow at the rift where Darkseid vanished. It was unknown if he hit the mark again. Darkseid was a tough guy; he didn't even groan, leaving only a trail of venomous emotion as he completely fled the Lightless Dimension.
Subsequently, the overwhelming darkness receded, leaving only the battered Lightless Realm and the black figure standing with the sword in the center.
Clark Kent stood there quietly, the darkness on the sword wriggling like a living thing, seemingly savoring the taste of the invincibility it had just sampled. Through the giant hole torn in the Lightless Realm, the radiance of the real universe poured in like a waterfall.
It dispelled billions of years of silence. Dust danced in the pillar of light, like countless reborn spirits rejoicing. Amidst these ruins being gradually illuminated, Clark Kent stood tall.
The symbiote armor formed by the Necrosword remained on him like a living shadow, its sharp angles flowing with ominous dark light. Only two bottomless dark slits remained on the visor, looking as if the void from before the birth of the universe was spinning within. He slowly turned his head, his deep gaze locking onto the Golden Superman who had just stabilized himself nearby.
"Hey, wake up!" The Golden Superman's internal alarms went off. He understood Kryptonian power too well, and he could feel the terrifying sense of devouring emitted by that evil sword—it was enough to threaten his idealistic essence.
The Clark before him felt foreign and dangerous, like an ancient beast wearing a Kryptonian skin. Especially those eyes; there was none of the warmth or steadiness belonging to Clark Kent. There was only the pure, hungry devouring instinct of the Necrosword.
Without a word or a moment's hesitation, a golden light flashed around the Golden Superman—not to attack, but to use all his remaining power for speed and defense. With a *boom*, the Golden Superman turned into a brilliant golden meteor and shot out through the dimensional rift without looking back, performing a textbook tactical retreat.
Seeing the last enemy disappear at the end of the rift, the heart-stopping dark light in Clark Kent's eyes immediately receded like a tide.
"Tch." Clark Kent curled his lip, dropping the act. He grabbed the symbiote armor covering his chest with both hands and tore it open like he was ripping off a tight sweater!
*Sira—*
The living armor, which could withstand Darkseid's attacks, let out a sound akin to a mournful wail as he crudely tore it from his body. it turned into a viscous black fluid, dripping back onto the Necrosword in his hand and being rapidly absorbed, finally returning the longsword to its cold, ancient metallic texture.
It was as if the terrifying existence that had just swallowed everything was a mere hallucination. How could he be deluded by the Necrosword?
Clark Kent leaned down to pick up Gungnir, which was still humming and expressing its dissatisfaction on the ground. He weighed it in his hand, then blurred and followed the rift out of the collapsing lightless cage.
...
Just as he returned to the star system that had become an interstellar dust belt, Clark hadn't even had time to take a deep breath of theoretically non-existent free air before a voice, full of disappointment, hit him over the head.
"You didn't pull the weeds by the roots! Dad, your indecisiveness is really uncalled for. While Darkseid ran away wounded and that other gold-plated trouble slipped off, you should have chased him back to Apokolips with that sword and blown him up along with that broken chair of his! End the trouble once and for all!"
Ian stood with his hands on his hips, floating on a large planetary fragment, scolding with a look of grief more profound than when he discovered his second brother used a plane cup without lubricant.
Hearing this, Clark rubbed his temples. "Darkseid isn't as simple as you think." He had clearly caught a glimpse of Darkseid's true nature, which was why he hadn't pursued the victory earlier.
Of course, Ian, who understood Darkseid's nature better than his father, didn't agree.
"That's because you underestimate your son's super intelligence!" Ian tilted his chin up, snapping his fingers smugly. Although no sound came out in the vacuum, the smugness transcended space. "I have a plan! It can make Apokolips shine brightly... ah, no, make it so they can never be reborn! A permanent solution to this cosmic abscess!" He spoke firmly.
"Oh?" Clark raised an eyebrow, having an ominous premonition. Every time Ian made that face, it usually meant he was about to use that so-called "super intelligence" that no one in the Justice League ever agreed with.
Sure enough.
"This plan requires the cooperation of you and Mom!" Ian held up two fingers, his eyes burning. "You just need to get a fake divorce from Mom! No need to split assets—you keep the Kryptonian ship, and Mom gets the farm and me. Then, you go and fiercely pursue—note, *pretend* to pursue, don't actually do it and make her think you've had a change of heart—to create an illusion. Yes, an illusion of you being infatuated with a new love."
"Think about it: an old snake like Darkseid, having suffered such a loss, will definitely want revenge! But he can't beat the current you plus the Necrosword. So what does he do? He'll go after your weakness! Which weakness is the weakest? Naturally, your beloved."
"With his insidious personality, he won't be able to resist. We just need to trick Darkseid into going to Earth to kidnap a minor police department employee! This police employee will bring true disaster upon Darkseid. Don't worry, if you pursue her as Superman, it has nothing to do with Clark Kent."
Ian was an expert at these types of clever strategies. However, upon hearing Ian's "tactic," Clark picked up a piece of duct tape floating in space. It was a leftover from when Ian helped the Injustice Superman with his pain.
"Huh? Dad, what are you doing? You think there's a loophole? We can refine it... Mmph?! Mmph mmph mmph!" Ian's words were ruthlessly cut off. Clark used his super speed to close in instantly, precisely slapping that wide piece of duct tape onto Ian's mouth with a *thwack*. It was sealed tight, not leaving a single gap.
The world (universe) was finally quiet. Clark exhaled slowly, feeling his ears were instantly purified. He was just about to lecture his son on watching too many messy Earth soap operas when his gaze unintentionally caught a scene nearby.
The Injustice Superman had woken up, but he didn't stand up or try to repair his body. He just lay there quietly on his back on the cold star-remains, staring blankly at the shattered starry sky above.
Two clear trails of tears slid from the corners of his eyes, dripping into his hair and instantly freezing into tiny ice crystals in the absolute zero environment. In that state, his entire being radiated a profound, philosophical despair and sadness.
"What's going on now? What did you do to him?" Clark turned to look at the Injustice Superman, who seemed awake but was silently weeping.
[He has been moved by me. He is repenting for his sins, looking at the stars, and contemplating the meaning of life and the harmony of the universe. These are tears of a purified soul.]
Ian blinked. Since his mighty mouth was temporarily sealed, he immediately leaned down and wrote a line of powerful, sprawling characters in the cosmic dust on the ground.
"?????" Clark looked at the line of text, the black lines on his forehead multiplying.
"Speak. Like. A. Human!"
The father covered his forehead, speechless. Ian innocently pointed to his mouth, sealed tight with tape, indicating that since his human mouth was sealed, he couldn't speak human language.
"..." Clark looked at his son's innocent yet punchable expression, his finger hovering in mid-air, hesitating whether to unseal Ian's "main body." The safety of the universe didn't seem as difficult as this decision. Just as his fingertip was about to touch the edge of the tape—
*Buzz— buzz-buzz—*
The scorched and deformed Black Box in Ian's pocket suddenly vibrated violently. The screen stubbornly lit up, flashing an extremely bizarre number: #666-013-HELL#.
Ian's eyes went wide. An unnatural wriggling occurred at his waist; skin and fabric twisted and deformed, rapidly sketching out a crooked "mimic mouth" with no nose, only lips and teeth.
"Holy crap! Uncle Bruce is too awesome! He's back from the dead! He called me from Hell to give me an escape-from-prison call!"
The mouth on his belly suddenly snapped open, letting out an exclamation that sounded exactly like Ian's own voice but with an eerie reverb. The mimic mouth opened and closed, making Ian's father feel his SAN value was plummeting.
"??????"
Clark really found it hard to comment on this. Why would a child brought by God and the Archangels, and raised by himself and Lois, veer off into such a sinister art style?
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666