Earth.
A name that once meant hope, home, future.
Now, however, that same name echoed like a suffocated lament—
a silent epitaph for a world on the brink of collapse.
Earth had once again received the visit of its worst nightmare: Darkseid, the merciless monarch of Apokolips.
He did not come to negotiate.
He did not come to threaten.
He came to seize—and to destroy.
And this time, he had no interest in subtlety or symbolic shows of power.
Darkseid marched directly upon the planet, leading his armies like a force of destruction itself—inevitable, unstoppable.
And Earth, despite all its strength and courage, simply could not withstand the invasion.
Earth's heroes fought.
They fought until their last breath, until the last shred of hope, until the final flicker of light remained.
But how does one resist a tyrant whose very existence was forged to conquer, subjugate, and erase entire civilizations?
How does one battle an endless horde of Parademons—creatures that, when slain, were replaced by hundreds more, an unending tide of nightmares?
How does one fight machines, weapons, and technology so advanced that human science seemed like a childish joke in comparison?
And worse than all of that—
how does one confront an enemy who possessed the most feared weapon in the entire multiverse:
the Anti–Life Equation.
With it, Darkseid didn't simply invade—
he broke minds, corrupted hearts, and erased the will of his victims.
Thus, some of Earth's greatest heroes—symbols of courage and justice—were turned into soulless soldiers, forced to fight against their own friends, their families, everything they once swore to protect.
Forced to destroy the world that had once been their home.
In the end, it wasn't a war at all.
It was a massacre—an execution.
Earth's defenses crumbled in no time.
Cities were consumed by fire, silence, and desolation.
Most heroes died, fell, disappeared, or were permanently incapacitated.
What remained was no longer a Justice League.
It was only… survival.
Only a few of the old heroes were still standing.
Not out of hope—
but because they simply hadn't had time to fall yet.
---
Human Base — Former Metropolis
The once brilliant, vibrant metropolis, the city that had been protected by Superman, was now nothing but a gigantic graveyard of twisted steel and shattered concrete.
The wind howled through the ruins like an endless lament.
Hidden deep within this urban mausoleum was a human stronghold—nearly impossible to detect.
The last spark of resistance.
Inside the dim underground conference room, lit only by unstable generators, Bruce Wayne sat completely still, his expression carved from stone.
He was no longer just Batman.
He was the man carrying the weight of an entire broken world.
Bruce waited.
He was waiting for something—or rather, someone.
ZUUUUMMMM
A red flash tore through the air, warping space as if time itself were screaming.
Bruce rose instinctively, eyes narrowing.
Barry Allen appeared, wrapped in unstable lightning.
Pale, trembling, exhausted beyond measure.
"Barry… how are you?" Bruce asked, already knowing the answer wouldn't be good.
Barry staggered to a chair, collapsed into it, and exhaled a heavy breath—one more tired than the room itself.
"I found him in the past… but I arrived too early. The first invasion hadn't even started yet. I barely managed to say anything before being dragged back. Bruce, I… I failed."
Bruce approached him.
His voice was low and steady, the gentlest he could manage now:
"Don't blame yourself, Barry. You did what you could."
But the truth was harsh: Barry was broken.
Time, once his safest road, now felt like a labyrinth of traps.
"Ever since he… ever since Arthur was taken by the Anti–Life Equation…" Barry swallowed hard. "Everything fell apart."
Bruce closed his eyes.
He knew.
God, how he knew.
One year ago, Darkseid had arrived.
And with him—ruin.
The Mother Boxes opened portals, shattered borders, and turned Earth into an arena.
Dozens of heroes fell.
Allies turned on each other.
Hope… dissolved.
A flickering flame sparked in the corner, and a raspy, British voice cut through the air:
"With a funeral atmosphere like this, I'm guessing the time-travel plan went to shit, yeah?"
John Constantine leaned against the wall, wearing his worn brown trench coat and holding a cigarette between his fingers.
In the middle of hell, he looked disturbingly calm.
"Maybe it failed… but we still have one chance," Bruce insisted, forcing himself to believe the words.
Constantine gave him a heavy, almost pitiful look.
"You feel it too, don't you, Bats? That pit in your stomach… that certainty that no matter what you do, it won't change a bloody thing."
He flicked the cigarette to the floor and crushed it with his boot.
Before Bruce could respond, another voice cut through the silence:
"Hey! What happened to you all?"
Oliver Queen stood in the doorway, face hardened by months of loss.
Behind him entered Cyborg, Deathstroke, the Joker, and finally…
Superman.
The last resistance.
The final line.
The thread before absolute oblivion.
Bruce looked around.
Every face bore different scars.
But the common denominator was the same: all of them were broken.
"Hahahahaha! So the grand world-saving plan turned to ashes, Batsy?" Joker cackled, his manic grin completely out of place in the funeral-like room.
Oliver silenced him with a murderous glare and turned back to Bruce:
"No other options? Nothing else?"
Bruce wanted to say no.
Wanted to say it's over.
But he couldn't.
He was Batman.
And if he gave up, that would be the true end.
Before he could speak, the base trembled.
The lights died.
The room fell into a suffocating darkness.
No one panicked.
They knew this darkness well.
And even more—they knew who caused it.
The whole world was becoming like this.
Deathstroke was the first to break the silence:
"The bastard is out there, fighting that horde of Parademons while we hide like rats."
Bruce clenched his fists.
When he spoke, his voice sounded like iron cracking:
"It means there's only one target left for him to face.
The one responsible for all of this…
The one who destroyed Arthur's family…
The one who is extinguishing our world…"
Bruce raised his gaze—cold as dweath.
"Darkseid dies today."
---
(End of chapter)
A/N: I promise it will make sense later