"That was…"
Just for an instant.
Though it lasted no more than a blink, everyone present felt it—an overwhelming will that defied resistance. A force so alien and absolute, it felt as though it was fused with the very fabric of the multiverse itself.
Every movement, every breath, even something as simple as a blink… rippled through timelines, reshaping reality in an eerie and unfathomable way.
Batman had never encountered energy like this before—not even in theory. Within the scope of his vast knowledge, only Alex possessed such godlike power that could stand above all Celestial forces.
But there was a problem—Alex's true self wasn't here. This projection was just a sliver of his magical consciousness, a mere avatar. It couldn't possibly generate power on this scale.
So then—where was that divine power coming from?
"Each universe has its own unique sentient entities," Alex said softly. "Some are incarnations of the Founders. Others are echoes from higher-dimensional realms. But in my view… they function more like a failsafe—a protective mechanism built into the multiverse."
"A failsafe?" Batman narrowed his eyes, and suddenly, pieces began to fall into place.
"That being… it belongs to this world, and yet it doesn't. It's intricately tied to this reality, but remains distant. Every time it descends, it tears through the fabric of existence. It is a claimant of the Founders' power… and also a prisoner, bound by an unknown will."
The blue figure that Clayface saw just before his death—Alex had seen it too.
There were only a few rare universes where beings even knew of its existence.
Doctor Manhattan.
A being born from Watchmen—a world so far removed even the core DC Universe rarely made contact with it.
"His power surpasses anything mortals can comprehend," Alex continued. "And he would never allow someone like Clayface—a deranged, unstable creature—to come into contact with the Source Wall."
So Alex didn't say anything more. He merely fell into quiet contemplation.
Among the infinite universes, there existed knowledge so forbidden that no mortal was ever meant to discover it. Those who dared seek the truth of existence were inevitably wiped out by the ones who watched from above. And perhaps… that was for the best.
The fact that Doctor Manhattan himself had intervened meant the actions of the Watchers—the cosmic observers behind Clayface—had drawn the gaze of one of the most supreme entities in the omniverse.
No wonder. When a being with multiversal-level combat power, one that didn't belong to this world, started interfering recklessly… the cosmic hierarchy had to respond.
It was clear from this that the higher beings didn't usually care about such chaos—but once a boundary was crossed, they wouldn't hesitate to act.
Which meant, from the very beginning, Flashpoint Universe One was under divine surveillance. Whether it was because this universe had somehow survived its destined destruction—or because of Alex's presence—it had become special.
"Is he on our side?" Batman asked quietly.
Alex heard the question and gave a subtle shake of his head.
"No one is truly on our side. He's just another keeper of balance—no different from the other cosmic entities who observe the universe from afar. He's here only because he doesn't want the chaos here to spill into the audience's view."
"So this is a stage, set up just for us to perform on." Batman narrowed his eyes, conflicted emotions rising within him.
"You could say that," Alex said with a sigh, his tone calm. "But this stage wasn't built for me. It was made for all of you."
Batman caught the implication in Alex's words and turned to him.
"The being who holds the Founders' power in this universe wouldn't allow the Watcher to act without resistance. That's why the Watcher threw Clayface forward as bait. He's not really here, is he?"
"No," Alex replied. "The Watcher piggybacked into this universe through the channel opened by the Monitor. With his abilities, seizing the Mobius Chair wasn't difficult. His goal is to destroy two entire worlds—two universes closely tied to me. But he can't act directly. If he did, beings like Doctor Manhattan or Lucifer Morningstar would intervene before we could lift a finger."
Alex met Batman's gaze. Talking with someone this sharp made things easier—there was no need to explain everything aloud. They already understood each other perfectly.
"So yes," Alex confirmed, "he's not here."
Batman nodded solemnly. He now understood Alex's intent. What was coming wouldn't just affect this world—it could shake the entire multiverse.
Alex continued, casually but meaningfully.
"You know how much those cosmic powers hate dealing with me. Someone like me… the best communication is no communication. Distant but aware. That's how we keep the balance."
"Then this time," Batman muttered to himself, "we're on our own."
Alex gently patted Batman on the shoulder.
"Sorry. I tried."
Then his tone shifted slightly, more optimistic.
"But I've already contacted Tony. Flashpoint isn't without backup."
Feeling the weight of Alex's words, Batman nodded.
"So... you're going back? To that place? The one you swore never to return to?"
"Yeah," Alex said, exhaling deeply. "That universe… it was never a good place to begin with."
He tilted his head up, gazing toward the sky, where Sentry and Omni-Man were still clashing in a brutal display of power. His voice softened to a whisper.
"But to end this story, I have to go back to where it all began."
"When are you leaving?" Batman asked.
Alex turned with a faint smile.
"I already have."
-----------------------------------
Spadina Avenue, New York.
The sunlight was warm and dazzling, gently illuminating Alex's silhouette, casting a long, stretched-out shadow behind him. Everything around him felt peaceful, almost unnaturally so.
But Alex himself felt utterly out of place in that serenity.
People bustled past him without pause—nobody noticed him, nobody stopped. Not a single glance in his direction. It was as if he was invisible… just like the first time he'd come here.
He stood silently on the pavement, taking in the surroundings—familiar, yet now distant.
He still remembered everything.
Every street.
Every blade of grass.
Three blocks from where he stood was territory that once belonged to the Serpent Syndicate. It was right there, all those years ago, that Alex had personally witnessed Hawkeye's public execution—a brutal memory that had marked the first time he ever saw someone die.
To be honest, it had been a terrible experience, and being back here brought a wave of discomfort crashing over him. If he had the choice, Alex would've lived the rest of his life without ever setting foot here again.
"You came after all… Time Bard."
Just as Alex was lost in memory, a voice—complex and echoing with countless layers—spoke softly behind him.
He didn't need to turn around. He already knew who it was. He exhaled deeply and slowly turned his head, eyes closing for a brief moment before reopening.
"Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting."
And there he was—a bald man clad in flowing blue robes, standing upright and impossibly calm.
"Watcher."
Alex's thoughts churned with emotion. He had imagined this meeting more times than he could count. But now that the moment was real, his mind went blank.
The Watcher, for his part, showed no surprise. Perhaps he had foreseen this meeting long ago. As their eyes met, something in his expression eased—a quiet acceptance.
"I know you've got a lot to say. Don't rush—we've got a little time left."
The Watcher's lips curved upward into a faint smile. He gestured casually toward a bar behind them.
"At a time like this, we might as well have a drink."
Alex didn't respond. He didn't nod or refuse—he simply stepped forward and silently followed the Watcher's lead.
The bar's door was open, though the interior was worn-down. There were no customers anymore, and even the bartender was dozing off behind the counter.
Their entrance stirred no one. The two sat naturally at a window-side table like old acquaintances returning to a familiar haunt.
"What'll you have?" the Watcher asked, lifting a hand.
"Moutai." Alex replied without hesitation.
The Watcher's hand paused slightly, clearly not expecting that answer.
Alex, pretending not to notice, snapped his fingers gently.
At once, two bronze goblets shimmered into existence on the table, their translucent forms rapidly becoming solid. The rich scent of aged liquor followed shortly after.
"I've always meant to say this," Alex said as he picked up a goblet and took a light sip. "I've never been able to stomach Western liquor."
The Watcher chuckled and shook his head before picking up his own goblet with mild curiosity.
"Nice-looking cup."
"This isn't a wine glass. Don't hold it like that," Alex said lightly, noticing the awkward grip. "Do it like this."
The Watcher nodded thoughtfully and adjusted his grip, mimicking Alex's hold. He brought the goblet to his nose and inhaled.
"Huh… it really does have a unique flavor."
"Why?"
Alex's voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
The Watcher's hand, still holding the bronze goblet, paused mid-air. When he looked at Alex, he found himself being stared down with an intensity he hadn't expected—Alex's gaze was shadowed, heavy with grief and disappointment.
"What do you mean, why?"
The Watcher tried to play it off with a faint smile, raising the goblet to his lips again. But Alex wasn't going to let it slide.
"I gave you a chance. In Luthor's office."
He spoke every word with deliberate weight.
"I didn't care what you'd done. I didn't even ask what your real motives were. None of that mattered to me. All I ever wanted… was to survive. That's all I asked for. We didn't have to end up here."
The Watcher sat quietly, listening to Alex's words, as though considering the weight of each one. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled—but not with amusement. It was a crooked, bitter smile. The kind worn by someone far too familiar with regret.
It was the first time Alex had seen the Watcher display so much emotion.
After a moment of silence, the Watcher gently set his goblet back on the table.
"You know, Time Bard… I've been watching you for a very long time. Every step, every choice. I've studied your every move across the timelines. But there's something I never told you..."
The Watcher didn't answer Alex's question directly. Instead, he spoke slowly, as if revealing a truth he'd buried for ages.
"Do you remember what I once told you... about the Watcher who fell into the pollution? The one who went too far?"
"I remember."
"That Watcher..."
The Watcher raised his eyes and locked onto Alex's.
"...was me."
.......
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