With that, Steppenwolf drove his axe into the earth and rose to his feet. His gaze found Heisenberg, and for the first time, there was no malice in it—only solemnity.
"Your power is staggering. But compared to the greatness of Darkseid, the gulf between you is beyond measure.
Come. Grant me a death worthy of my name. My body can never return home, but my soul still longs to see it one last time.
Kill me."
"No, no, no. It's not nearly that simple, Steppenwolf."
Heisenberg studied the broken general before him—this warrior who craved death like a drowning man craves air—and shook his head.
"Darkseid knows exactly what I'm capable of. And yet he still sent you to Earth. That tells me you've long since outlived your usefulness to him.
I'm different. I have no interest in your name, I'll admit. But you still hold a certain value in my eyes.
I don't care about your feeble combat prowess. What I want is your story.
You say you want to go home. Then tell me about it. Tell me about your world."
"You want me to betray secrets?!"
"Don't make it sound so ugly. A secret is only a secret if Apokolips cares enough to keep it.
But you, who fancy yourselves invincible—do you truly need to guard something as basic as information?
I don't want to hear about Darkseid's weaknesses. Beings like him and me passed beyond weaknesses long ago. We speak only in terms of victory and defeat.
What I want to know is simple: on your homeworld, how many more are there like you?"
"Like me?"
Steppenwolf drew a breath. A bitter, contemptuous laugh escaped him.
"I am nothing but an exile. A criminal cast out from Apokolips. Coming to Earth was my penance, my road to atonement. Compared to those who still earn the right to walk that world's soil, I have no greater worth whatsoever!
You ask how many like me exist on Apokolips? I have only one answer: the number is beyond counting. And among them, there is no longer a place for me!"
His eyes slid to Clark, cold and dismissive. Then to Faora.
He shook his head and let out a hollow laugh.
"Defeating me is no triumph of yours. All you bested was a criminal unworthy of going home.
I will wait for you in the land of the dead. You will all make your way to the realm I am about to enter—right after Lord Darkseid descends upon your world!"
With that, Steppenwolf sank to his knees before Heisenberg and bowed his head, baring his neck.
"I beg you to deliver the blow yourself. Even a sinner may hope for a more honorable death."
"Heh…"
Heisenberg raised his right hand with casual ease. The molten lava flowing between the seams of his armor split away in an instant, a thin stream peeling off and forging itself into chains that wrapped around Steppenwolf and locked him tight.
At the same time, he spoke softly to Clark, who stood a short distance away.
"Bring him back to Themyscira. Use him as a training partner. You, the Amazon warriors of Paradise Island—all of you can sharpen your skills against him.
Mera, once I've settled my people's affairs, I'll send some of them to help you claim the throne of Aquaman. After you take your crown, your people will earn the right to use Steppenwolf as a whetstone for their own growth."
As he spoke, Heisenberg turned back to Steppenwolf and smiled—a quiet, almost gentle expression.
"As for you. You crave an honorable death, don't you?
Very well. I'll give you a little more honor than you bargained for. And I'll make sure you die far more times than you ever imagined.
Look forward to it."
The words hung in the air. Then Heisenberg extended his right hand toward the distant battlefield, where Kryptonians and Parademons were still locked in combat.
He pressed his palm downward.
The thirty-two thousand Parademons that remained were reduced to powder so fine it had no shape at all.
Bruce inhaled sharply. Once again—once again—the sheer scope of Heisenberg's power coiled tight in his chest like a wire pulled to breaking point.
This was power that looked, for all intents and purposes, indistinguishable from omnipotence. And Bruce couldn't fathom a single countermeasure.
Then again, perhaps that was fine. Darkseid and Apokolips were bearing down on them. The stronger their side, the better their odds.
But if Earth survived this crisis… he would need a contingency. A plan for Heisenberg.
It wasn't that he wanted to fight humanity's sun god. He simply refused to let the sun god become the next Darkseid.
That was all. That was truly all he was thinking.
…
Far across the battlefield, the Kryptonian warriors mid-swing felt their enemies simply… cease to exist. Every last Parademon around them vanished in ways they couldn't comprehend.
Stunned, they turned toward Heisenberg.
The moment they saw his face, they snapped into formation, leaped across the distance, and dropped to one knee before him in unison.
Heisenberg looked out over the rows of kneeling soldiers. These were his people. The survivors of Krypton's annihilation, who had clawed their way through the void and endured.
A storm of emotion surged through him.
Compared to the humans of this era, Heisenberg knew with absolute certainty: the people bound to his soul could never truly accept him. The ones who stood with him—truly, irrevocably with him—were these Kryptonians. His blood. His kin.
He opened both arms wide, as if to embrace them all.
"My people of Krypton. Our world is gone. But your survival gives me more than enough reason to believe.
Stand up. Look around you. Look at the earth beneath your feet and the sky above your heads. I am Heisenberg. And the first thing I declare to you is this—
You are home."
"YES, YOUR GRACE!!!"
Thirty-seven warriors rose to their feet in perfect unison and answered as one. Their discipline, their absolute obedience, made Bruce—standing off to the side—draw a sharp breath for the third time.
And that was only the beginning of his astonishment.
Heisenberg turned his gaze to Faora, who had returned to the front of the Kryptonian formation, and spoke in a measured voice.
"I have good news for you all. While our numbers remain few, I have received a declaration of war from Apokolips.
Darkseid, the ruler of Apokolips, has sent me a signal of war.
War has always been the purpose a Kryptonian warrior lives for.
War is the very path by which Krypton's nobility earned their titles.
And now, a great war awaits you—future leaders of Krypton!
The old order died with our homeworld. Your rank, your legacy, your place in history—all of it rests in your own hands from this moment forward."
The instant Heisenberg's words fell, Faora thrust her right hand up and slammed her gauntlet against her breastplate.
BOOM!
The synchronized crash of metal on metal rang out like a war drum, leaving no doubt where the Kryptonian warriors stood.
"We will bring you victory! And victory shall be the honor that adorns our souls, Your Grace!!!"
Faora's roar split the air. Around her, the warriors struck their chest armor harder, the impacts ringing out like thunder.
The force of those blows alone sent shockwaves rippling outward in every direction. Dust and sand swirled up in growing spirals. And Heisenberg smiled.
He waved a hand, signaling the Justice League members to step back.
Then he faced his people and gave another command.
"Now. Remove your masks. Take off your armor. All of you."
The warriors froze. Confused stares flickered across every face beneath the visors.
But even as bewilderment filled their eyes, their hands were already tearing at their masks.
Faora was the fastest. The moment her mask came free, she collapsed to the ground. A torrent of sensation flooded her—her body convulsed violently, as though seized by a full-blown epileptic fit.
One by one, the warriors ripped their masks away. One by one, they crumpled.
Cries of agony and raw pain echoed across the field. The sight—this mass collapse that looked indistinguishable from collective suicide—sent a chill through every member of the Justice League.
Even Clark, who knew they wouldn't die, who knew they would emerge stronger, was shaken to his core by the sheer, unquestioning obedience of his people.
He looked down at the Kryptonians writhing on the ground. Then he looked up at Heisenberg, standing tall and imperious above them all.
A thought crept in, unbidden: I've never once lived the Kryptonian life. Have I been too casual in front of Great-Grandfather?
But the moment the thought formed, he shook it off. Great-Grandfather wouldn't want everyone to become his subordinate. His tool.
Just as Clark needed family, Great-Grandfather needed family too. Someone like him.
His gaze steadied. He would be Great-Grandfather's anchor to this world. He would make sure his people and humanity could coexist. He would.
Beside Clark, Mera watched Heisenberg with eyes that shimmered with something new.
So the Sun God who had been so warm, so approachable in their presence… commanded soldiers who moved with this kind of absolute, terrifying precision?
She watched the Kryptonians convulsing on the ground and felt a resolve crystallize inside her. Her people might not match the Kryptonians in raw power, but in discipline, in execution—Atlantis would not fall behind. Not by a single measure.
If she truly became Aquaman, she would make the oceans a force that the Sun God himself admired above all others.
She would.
Diana, by contrast, was deep in calculation. She understood perfectly what was about to happen: every single one of these Kryptonians would emerge as a super-being on par with Clark.
Watching these warriors rebuild themselves through agony, a cold sense of urgency settled over her.
Before these returning Kryptonians, the Amazons had to prove their worth. They had to.
While the heroes of Earth each wrestled with their own thoughts, the Kryptonians on the ground began to find their footing.
Faora was the first to steady her breathing.
Around her, loose clumps of earth lifted off the ground and hung suspended in the air. She rose with them, floating upward as her personal force field pulsed and stabilized.
When she was upright, her eyes darted and refocused again and again—adjusting to a new field of vision that could pierce through thousands of kilometers.
But before she could finish adjusting, a searing heat built behind her eyes. Raw energy surged through her gaze and erupted outward—a torrent of heat vision, powerful but not yet fully focused, lashing out in a wild arc straight toward where Heisenberg stood.
She had, after all, opened her eyes looking directly at her sovereign. So the heat vision went exactly where her eyes were pointed.
Heisenberg watched the blazing beams rush toward him and smiled. He flicked his hand.
The turbulent force field around him bent the surrounding space, and Faora's heat vision scattered into nothing.
Since ascending to become the Sun God, the solar radiation Heisenberg absorbed had grown immeasurably richer. His control over force fields had intensified to a degree he himself could scarcely fathom.
And it was still growing. Every second. Every breath. The reason he rarely lifted a hand in battle these days was simple: even he no longer knew the full extent of his own power.
After her heat vision was deflected, Faora squeezed her eyes shut in alarm and dropped to one knee.
"I have sinned, Your Grace!"
"You are forgiven. Focus on feeling your new strength."
"Yes, Your Grace. I feel it. This power—born from pain, driving me to evolve with every heartbeat!
Why did we never know the yellow sun held this within it? Why did we never understand the limits of what we truly are?"
Now that she had a basic grasp of the changes coursing through her, Faora's mind raced faster and faster. And what it raced toward was grief.
Still kneeling, she looked up at Heisenberg, her voice thick with sorrow.
"If we had seen our own potential sooner. If we had possessed this strength in the days before.
Krypton would never have fallen. We would have had the power to save our home.
I wish… I wish I could see Krypton one more time, Your Grace…"
As Faora's words hung heavy with memory and regret, Mera nodded slowly beside her, moved by a shared wound.
As an Atlantean, she too carried the weight of a lost homeland.
They were sea-dwellers now. But did that mean any Atlantean didn't ache for the empire that had once stood proud on dry land?
Sigh.
It was like Thor and his Asgard in the films.
He had believed that as long as he carried the Asgardian people with him, Asgard would endure.
But when the last remnants of Asgard's population scraped by on Earth, eking out a shadow of their former glory—was that still the Asgard Odin had built?
Watching Faora mourn, Mera made a silent vow. She would protect the Atlantis that existed now. She would protect her kingdom of Xebel.
She was finally ready to become Aquaman.
/-\
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