The first wave of Apokolips' assault force wasn't comprised of elite warriors—but of slaves and Parademon overseers from across countless worlds. While the Parademons looked nearly identical—engineered weapons of war—the slaves were a chaotic mix of species, each armed with whatever tools or weapons they had managed to keep.
Some carried crude shields and blades, others swung swords meant for knights, and a few even charged into battle wielding mining picks.
Before arriving on Earth, Darkseid had promised them one thing: if they could help him conquer this planet, they would no longer be slaves. They would be recognized as citizens of Apokolips—and perhaps, granted true freedom.
Did they believe him? Not really. They knew Darkseid's cruelty too well. But they had no choice. To oppose him meant certain death. To serve him—maybe there was a sliver of hope.
So when they saw Hourman, they didn't hesitate. Madness gleamed in their eyes. Bloodlust became their only instinct. Their goal was singular: to tear apart everything in their path.
"Die!"
One of the slaves was the first to reach Hourman, raising his crude weapon and letting out a crazed roar.
But Hourman was ready. He dug in his heels, clenched his right fist, and struck with all his might.
With a bone-shattering impact, the slave was sent flying, crashing into others behind him—before getting trampled underfoot by his own allies, reduced to pulp.
Hourman didn't even glance back. This wasn't the moment for idealism or hesitating over whether a hero should kill. It was survival—and Earth's defense—at stake.
Clang! Bang! Clatter!
A storm of metal echoed out as Wildcat dove headfirst into the enemy ranks. Despite still recovering from wounds sustained in his battle with Steppenwolf, Wildcat had trained relentlessly to sharpen his hand-to-hand combat skills. Empowered by his magically-enhanced suit, he tore through the mob like a force of nature.
Every swing of his fists hurled enemies into the air, and their weapons bounced harmlessly off the runes etched into his armor—sigils of the Life Equation that shielded his body.
Above them, Green Lantern had taken to the skies to face off against the flying Parademon overseers. With his power ring in one hand and the lantern in the other, he unleashed volleys of dazzling green energy, cutting swaths through the swarm.
Some Parademons couldn't dodge in time and plummeted from the sky. Others responded with laser fire, hammering at his constructs.
Green Lantern held firm, his will powering his shield even as he winced under the strain, retaliating in kind with precise, lethal beams that struck down one monster after another.
From a distance, Desaad—just emerged from the Boom Tube—watched in frustration. These three mortals had managed to hold off an army of thousands. It made Desaad's blood boil.
He had told Darkseid Earth would crumble easily—so long as no Kryptonians or New Gods interfered. Yet here were three unknowns, ruining his plans.
True, they had power. One even wielded a Lantern ring. But Desaad wasn't one for excuses.
He was furious.
"My Lord," Desaad growled, turning to Darkseid. "Shall I unleash the full Parademon horde?"
"No need."
Floating calmly in mid-air, Darkseid shook his head.
"The true enemy hasn't arrived yet. Until then, I don't mind entertaining these insects."
"But... this planet's energy signatures—"
Darkseid cut him off, his red eyes narrowing.
"Haven't you noticed?" he said, his voice low and cold. "The Anti-Life Equation… it's no longer here. It's gone."
Desaad blinked in shock. "Gone? You mean… someone took it? Before us?"
A flash of rage flickered through Darkseid's gaze but quickly vanished.
"Not the one who wounded me," he muttered. "I sensed nothing on him. And his power is already beyond such tools. No… something else took the Equation. I can't be sure what. But I know one thing: it is no longer on this world."
Desaad clenched his fists, trembling with frustration. "If I find out who dared to steal your prize—" He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing at the battlefield.
Hourman, Green Lantern, and Wildcat were still fighting with everything they had.
Without warning, Desaad raised a decayed, withered hand—swirling necrotic energy spiraling around his palm.
His eyes locked on the three warriors.
Darkseid noticed. But he didn't stop him. He simply watched.
To them, these mortals were meaningless.
Then—Desaad let loose.
With a hiss and a shriek, three streaks of toxic green energy erupted from his palm, blasting across the sky toward the heroes.
He didn't care about hitting his own troops. This wasn't strategy—it was spite.
The energy crashed into the unsuspecting slaves from behind, draining their life force instantly. Their bodies crumpled, their strength siphoned and weaponized in a blast that shot toward the frontlines.
Sensing a surge of imminent danger, Hourman instinctively raised his arms to shield himself—but it was useless. The energy slammed into him with overwhelming force, launching him off his feet and sending him skidding across the ground for dozens of meters like a ragdoll.
Wildcat reacted fast, but he was already surrounded by Apokoliptian slave soldiers. Packed tight in the chaos of the frontlines, there was no room to dodge. By the time he registered the incoming blast, it was too late. The runes of the Sigil of Life on his suit flared once—then shattered.
The explosion consumed him and the surrounding enemies alike, unleashing a storm of raw decay that swallowed everything in its radius.
Up in the skies, Green Lantern had been Desaad's primary target from the start. Desaad knew full well the might of the Lantern Corps, and their interference had cost Apokolips dearly in past invasions. That history made this strike personal.
Green Lantern, locked in battle with the Parademon overseers, had no chance to brace for what hit him.
Even in a direct duel, he would have struggled against Desaad's full-powered strike—but this had been a blindside.
With a deafening crack, the Lantern's emerald shield shattered like glass. His body trailed green fire as he plummeted from the sky like a comet, slamming into the ground hard enough to rattle the concrete.
His lantern slipped from his grip, tumbling and bouncing away with a metallic clang.
Desaad let out a cold snort of satisfaction, shaking off the remnants of energy from his hand before turning to Darkseid, who still hovered in silence above the battlefield.
"My Lord," Desaad said smoothly, "since this planet no longer harbors the Anti-Life Equation and its defenders are broken, shall we deploy the full Parademon horde and claim it?"
Darkseid's eyes flicked toward him. "Desaad."
The moment his name was spoken, Desaad's posture snapped rigid. "Yes, Lord Darkseid," he responded at once, bowing his head slightly, a flicker of anxiety in his voice.
Darkseid's tone darkened, low and unreadable. "Do you believe I came to Earth only for the Anti-Life Equation?"
That single question silenced Desaad. Though he was one of Darkseid's most trusted lieutenants, he had long since learned the folly of assuming he understood the mind of the god he served.
After a pause, Darkseid touched the scar scorched across his left cheek—an old wound still unhealed.
"He was right," Darkseid murmured. "This is war. The enemy is prepared. The threat draws near. They've come... for me."
"For... for you?" Desaad's eyes widened in shock.
Despite being a New God himself, despite serving by Darkseid's side through countless campaigns, Desaad could never fully grasp the depths of his master's mind. The more he knew, the less he understood.
Who was this "enemy"? Why had Darkseid marched on Earth without backup? Desaad didn't know.
But he did know this: whatever came next, he would stand beside his Lord.
"No matter who the enemy is," Desaad declared fervently, "they are no match for you. You are the great Darkseid, the supreme god of all creation. You are the rightful ruler of every world and every soul. I, your loyal servant, will remove all distractions from your path."
With that, he turned and gazed coldly at the crumpled bodies of Hourman, Wildcat, and Green Lantern.
"Start with those three insects."
Sensing the command, the Parademon Overseers sprang into action, wings flapping at high speed as they launched themselves toward Hourman and the others, blasters raised and aimed with lethal precision.
As the swarm of Parademons blotted out the sky, descending like a wave of death, Hourman coughed up a mouthful of blood. The experimental compound in his system granted him incredible powers—but offered little protection to his physical body. That last hit had taken him out of the fight, and he knew it.
He could barely lift a limb, let alone withstand another strike from what was coming.
Wildcat and Green Lantern were in slightly better shape—but only just. None of them were in any condition to resist another assault.
And in that bleak moment, when all three believed this would be their end—
Suddenly—
A beam of crimson energy tore through the sky like a god's wrath unleashed.
It struck with cataclysmic force, vaporizing dozens of Parademon Overseers in a single sweep.
The battlefield froze.
The enslaved soldiers of Apokolips skidded to a halt, terror washing over them as they stared upward—toward the direction from which the beam had come. There, high in the sky, several tiny dark silhouettes began rapidly growing larger—closing in fast at supersonic speed.
The reinforcements had arrived.
.........
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