The universe was silent.
No stars sang their eternal hymns, no galaxies danced in the cosmic sea. Only a single sun — golden, unmoving, eternal — burned in the middle of the void. Its fire was neither life nor death. It was simply existence.
Within that burning heart rested a being — motionless, timeless, beyond the reach of mortality.
Superman.
Or rather, what remained of him.
For ten million years, he had slept within the solar core, letting every photon, every quark of energy, fuse with his essence. Time had long lost meaning. Planets formed and perished. Civilizations rose and vanished into dust. Entire universes collapsed and were reborn in endless cycles. Yet he remained — the constant in the equation of existence.
The boy who once flew under Earth's blue sky was no longer a man of flesh and bone. His very atoms had merged with the light. His mind had transcended the boundaries of thought. The Sun was him, and he was the Sun.
Silence reigned for eons… until something shifted.
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A pulse. A tremor. A whisper that reached even his infinite awareness.
Reality itself quivered like a string touched by an unseen hand.
And then — his eyes opened.
Two orbs of molten gold pierced the dark core, radiating energy that could have birthed entire galaxies. The sleeping god stirred, and the Sun around him convulsed, flaring brighter than ever before.
He spoke — his voice not carried by sound, but by truth itself.
"It's time... something stirs beyond creation."
The words echoed through every dimension, every universe, every layer of existence. Stars flickered in response. Dead suns reignited. Across countless worlds, beings who had long forgotten hope looked up, sensing something awaken.
Superman moved, and the star around him obeyed. The fire parted, coiling around him like serpents of divine energy. His form took shape — not the body of a man, but the manifestation of pure will. His "S" emblem glowed brighter than the birth of a new dawn, its radiance pushing back the cold of eternity.
He was more than a Kryptonian.
More than a hero.
He was the embodiment of the very law of life — the eternal flame that defied the darkness.
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He extended his awareness outward. In a fraction of a thought, he saw everything. Universes being born in ripples of color, galaxies drifting like dust motes in an ocean of void, realities spinning endlessly on the axis of creation. And beyond all that — at the furthest horizon of existence — he saw it.
A darkness that did not move.
A void that did not breathe.
Something that should not be.
It was not death, nor chaos. It was the absence of both — the Void Beyond Creation.
For a moment, even his heart of pure energy faltered.
Not out of fear for himself, but for the fragile balance of existence.
If that darkness spread, everything — from gods to mortals, from time to light — would simply be unmade.
He had slept for ten million years, believing peace had finally been earned. But peace was an illusion. The shadow was awakening.
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He rose from the core of the sun, and as he ascended, the star began to collapse. Yet there was no destruction — instead, the dying light poured into him, merging, fusing, becoming a part of his divine aura. When he emerged into the void, there was no explosion, no shockwave — only stillness and a brilliance that transcended meaning.
The void trembled.
He looked upon the infinite darkness, and for the first time in eternity, he spoke his name.
"I was Kal-El. I was Superman. But now… I am the Last Sun."
His voice was law. His presence was light. His will was creation.
All across the Omniverse, forgotten gods felt warmth once more. Ancient energies stirred. The echo of his awakening spread like dawn across a night that had lasted too long. He had become something that could no longer be contained by language — not a savior, not a deity, but a force of existence itself.
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Yet even as light returned, a new presence awoke from beyond the veil.
Eyes — colder than time, older than origin — opened within the void. They burned crimson, piercing even the light of the Last Sun.
A voice answered him from the darkness.
"So… the sun awakens once more."
The words rippled across existence, turning space into glass. "Let there be darkness again."
Superman's gaze hardened.
He knew this voice. He had heard its echo before creation began. It was the whisper that haunted every dawn, the silence between every heartbeat of existence.
And now, after ten million years of solitude, it had returned.
The light had awakened…
and so had the void.
The battle beyond creation was about to begin.
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