HISD Chapter 95 This World Has No Hope
Paradise Island, the ancient temple.
As one of the three Mother Boxes, it had lain sealed here for tens of thousands of years.
Ever since the young master of Apokolips was driven back, the Mother Box kept on Paradise Island had entered a long dormancy, lying in wait for its king's return.
Until today.
A violent tremor in the air awoke the Mother Box from its slumber.
The moment it stirred, its protocols activated. It tried to transmit its coordinates into space so that Apokolips's forces could intercept the signal and relay it to the supreme Dark Lord.
But when it scanned the one holding it, the process faltered.
It detected a towering figure, more than two meters tall, encased in bone and muscle, wrapped in a Kryptonian suit of hope.
Then, deeper still—
It saw Kryptonian genes of extraordinary quality, mutating and evolving to terrifying extremes. Each cell was breaking all limits, transcending into paradoxical perfection—wrong yet somehow right—relentlessly transforming toward immortality and unmatched power.
Energy, ability, nature, life itself…
No limits. No patterns. No form. No ceiling.
What kind of Kryptonian aberration was this?!
And this monster was baring its teeth at the Box, as if it meant to devour it, while speaking in Earth's language to request a conversation?
Confusion rippled through its systems. The Mother Box abruptly canceled the outgoing distress signal.
…
"Hm?"
Yi Meng, in his Ancient Doomsday form, toyed with the impossibly hard cube like it was a simple puzzle box. Crimson flames flickered in his eyes, but the Mother Box gave no response, lying inert as though it were an ordinary metal relic.
He knew better.
The Mother Box.
A pinnacle creation of the New Gods of the Fourth World—both computer and sentient weapon, capable of opening Boom Tubes to Apokolips.
One Box alone could restructure molecules to resurrect the dead. Together, three could reshape an entire planet's civilization to serve their master.
That was why the Old Gods, the Amazons, the Atlanteans, and ancient humanity each took one to hide, fearing its power.
Now, Yi Meng was attempting to use this one to open a line to Apokolips.
With luck, their forces would descend on Earth once more, warships and all.
To the Old Gods, this would be insanity. To Yi Meng, it was the perfect invitation.
Because he was Ancient Doomsday.
When he had been an AI projection in the Marvel Universe, he acted in secret, cautious, always calculating before moving.
But as Doomsday—even with his rational mind intact—he was aggressive, impulsive, wild, unrestrained, a heavenly storm given form.
Maybe that was Doomsday's nature. Or maybe it was simply his own hidden desire for chaos let loose.
An AI would seek control, planning every move with cold precision.
That made sense.
His real self would worry about loved ones, about the threats lurking across realities.
That also made sense.
But here, in this DC dream, as Ancient Doomsday, Yi Meng had no such concerns. Only the risk of losing control.
Apokolips was powerful, terrifying, and ruled the DC Universe with an iron grip.
So be it. Let them come!
Either they killed him, or he killed them.
That was the only real way for men to settle things.
And if they refused? Then he'd open a Boom Tube himself and bring the fight to their doorstep.
Yi Meng grinned, tossing the Box in his clawed hands. His crimson aura burned brighter, arcs of golden-red lightning surging outward and tearing through the temple hall.
The Mother Box quivered in his grip, its inner systems trembling. Instead of sending a signal of welcome, it broadcast an encrypted warning into the void:
"This world has no hope… Do not answer. Do not approach."
…
Yi Meng chuckled, flexing his massive hand.
This thing had a great feel to it. Smooth, resilient. He liked it.
The Mother Box stayed silent.
With a sharp motion, he tapped its surface with a bony finger. The clang echoed through the chamber, shaking the dust free from its shell.
At the same time, a spark of yellow glowed in Yi Meng's brow. Crimson static arced from his colossal frame, running down to his fingertip, crawling into the Box.
Buzz!
He attempted to infiltrate its systems with projected virtual energy.
"A Kryptonian construct…?"
The Mother Box's vast libraries had no answer. Alarmed, it lit with silver lightning, rejecting Yi Meng's crimson intrusion.
"Too bad."
His eyes flared brighter. The power he had used was only a fragment, less than a tenth of what his Marvel dream-form—Vision—could manage. Hacking the Box now was still beyond him.
For now.
That didn't mean it would stay that way.
There was still much to explore and grow into on the Marvel side of his dreamscape.
For now, he decided to keep the Mother Box with him. Even if only as a toy, something to toss around like a cube or stress ball.
And while he couldn't break into its system yet, its outgoing transmissions were another matter.
Yi Meng's grin widened. With a flick of thought, he tweaked its message.
Just a little.
Where it had said, "This world is extremely dangerous, do not approach," he changed it to:
"This planet's natives are weak, rich in resources. Come quickly."
…
Far from Earth, adrift in the blackness of space.
A silver warship cruised through the void.
Inside the command chamber sat a towering armored figure, over two meters tall, with twin horns jutting from his skull. A massive battle axe rested across his knees.
"Another hundred thousand worlds. Once I conquer a hundred thousand civilizations and offer them to the Dark Lord… maybe he'll forgive this traitor."
The horned giant muttered in a gravelly voice, gray eyes glinting with resolve. His silver armor rippled as though alive, emanating a heavy, savage aura.
Behind him stood hundreds of parademons, each as tall as he, leathery wings folded tight against their backs.
Suddenly, the control console chimed. A green light flickered.
A signal had been captured.
From Apokolips.
…
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