My name…
Was once Pietro, but in most parallel universes, people only remember me as that flash of silver—Quicksilver.
I was a hero.
A person who made it his mission to help and save the innocent. I believed it was all meaningful. The good I did gave my life—my existence—purpose.
I had the greatest family anyone could ask for. I found the girl I wanted to spend my life with. I had no more desires.
Well, maybe just one—helping Alex fulfill his dream.
I didn't want to be a burden.
I didn't want to be left behind by Alex.
I needed more power. Only then could I change everything.
Only then could I truly stand by Alex's side.
The me from the past...
Feared death.
But now?
I am death.
"Pietro! Snap out of it!"
Right now, Kara was literally racing against Death itself. She'd unleashed everything she had to boost her speed, but that black shadow behind her clung like tar—it wouldn't let go.
"Damn it! You're under the control of the Anti-Life Equation and the Black Racers! Fight it, Pietro! This isn't who you really are!"
(He can't hear you now, Kryptonian.)
The shadowy figure sneered, lifting its scythe—ready to strike Kara down at any moment.
What happens when a god dies?
New gods rise.
Those who wield great power will inherit the shattered divinity, forming new thrones—just like now, just like before.
Darkseid ushered in the twilight of the old gods and the rise of the new. Now, his fall would bring even more terrifying unknowns into the world.
(Embrace your death, Kryptonian!)
A black blur slashed through the air. Kara twisted mid-flight, barely dodging the deadly scythe—but a deep gash tore into her shoulder.
As the Black Racer prepared to swing again, an abrupt burst of energy struck him hard, hurling him dozens of meters away before he skidded to a halt.
(Who dares!?)
The Black Racer snapped his gaze toward the intruder, anger flaring.
Kara took the moment to retreat and cast her eyes toward the source of the energy.
Amid a surge of eerie blue light, a dark figure appeared in a blink—towering before them both.
"Bruce?"
Kara's jaw dropped in disbelief.
And who could blame her?
Sitting atop the Mobius Chair—its glowing surface radiating knowledge and power—was Old Bruce Wayne. From the energy signature alone, it was clear he had mastered its abilities.
Behind him, Wasteland Batman and Venom-Woman Ashley emerged from the shadows.
"You… why are you here?" Kara asked, her voice caught between confusion and awe.
"It's a long story," Old Bruce said calmly, though his tone betrayed urgency.
"Right now, the most important thing is stopping the Anti-Monitor. Every second we waste, another innocent universe is consumed by the Anti-Matter Wall and turned to nothing."
His expression remained cold, but there was an edge to his voice.
"What's worse, every time a parallel universe is destroyed, the Anti-Monitor grows stronger. If this continues, he'll wipe out all of existence—not even Franklin Richards will be able to stop him."
"Then what do we do?"
Kara's voice rose with panic, one eye still watching the unmoving Black Racer.
Bruce didn't hesitate.
He slowly turned and set his gaze on the looming shadow.
"I've fully unlocked the secrets of this chair. This construct—one that holds all the knowledge in existence—has revealed to me the only way to defeat the Anti-Monitor."
"Only the power of the New Gods can end a Fallen God."
The power of the New Gods…
To end the Fallen God?
Kara furrowed her brows slightly, uncertainty clouding her eyes.
Yes.
The reason the Anti-Monitor came to slay Darkseid was to completely break free from the cursed cycle of anti-matter and the Anti-Life Equation. As long as he killed Darkseid, the godhood of this universe would fall vacant.
At that moment, being the most powerful being present—and as the direct or indirect killer of the New God Darkseid—the Anti-Monitor would be eligible to ascend, to claim godhood within this universe and bind himself to its core.
As the anti-matter wave spread across the Multiverse, all other universes aside from this one would be obliterated, becoming fuel to feed the Anti-Monitor, exponentially enhancing his power.
At that point, the one and only god would rule over both the positive and negative matter universes—none would be able to challenge his dominion.
He must not be allowed to succeed.
Kara clenched her teeth, her gaze shifting toward the Black Racer.
Only the power of a New God can slay a Fallen God?
Then… the only one in this world capable of harming and killing the Anti-Monitor…
Was this newly-born God of Death standing before them?
"Pietro?!"
While Kara wrestled with her thoughts, Ashley had already recognized the figure shrouded in black armor. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
(Pietro is no longer here, madam.)
The Black Racer grinned.
In the reflection of his shadowed gaze shimmered another world—
The Wasteland Universe.
"AaaAAHHHH!!!"
Within a dark corridor, the air was thick with the damp stench of blood. Screams and wails echoed endlessly like demons from the depths of hell.
"No—please! I won't do it again! I swear, I—AARGH!"
Blood splattered, painting the walls crimson. The stench of gore lingered heavily in the air. Amidst the wheezing gasps and the sickening grind of saw teeth tearing through flesh and scraping against bone, despair choked the corridors.
"You damn runt—daring to break out of my prison?"
Warden Fisk sneered, staring down at the restrained young man. A twisted, bloodthirsty grin stretched across his face.
Ignoring the boy's pleas and screams, Kingpin slowly adjusted the grip on the bone saw in his hand, finding a more comfortable angle—and pushed it forward again with brutal force.
The screeching, grinding sounds continued, chilling even to hear.
The rest of the prison had fallen into absolute silence. Every living thing cowered in the shadows, terrified that Fisk's attention might shift to them next—that they might become his next plaything.
Through the waves of agony, Pietro drifted in and out of consciousness. His mind was blank. He could feel nothing but searing pain.
No telling how long had passed before, finally, with a dull thud, something hit the cell floor—and the punishment came to an end.
Kingpin lifted his boot and nudged the severed arm lying on the ground. A look of satisfaction flashed across his face—quickly masked again by indifference.
"That's enough for today. But if you try to run again, I'll saw off your remaining limbs next time."
As his cold laughter faded into the distance, silence reclaimed the prison. The only sound that remained was Pietro's shallow, broken breathing.
(Death created you.)
"...What?" cough cough
Pietro forced his eyes open, barely clinging to consciousness.
Standing before him—unnoticed until now—was a black figure, eerily similar to himself in appearance.
(It was death that shaped you, Pietro. Look around.)
The black figure gestured, and suddenly, countless other mutants appeared around Pietro, locked inside the same type of cells.
But unlike Pietro, they were already dead.
Their bodies had been torn apart, blood forming streams on the floor. Lifeless, wide-eyed stares—all fixed in one direction—pointed straight at Pietro.
"No…"
Pietro's pupils shrank. He had remembered something… something horrifying.
"This… this shouldn't…"
(Shhh. Quiet now.)
The dark figure smiled faintly, wiggling his fingers gently.
(What makes you think you were ever different from them?)
Pietro wanted to scream back—but just then, he realized… his limbs were gone.
Sometime, somehow, they had all been severed.
He was now just a mutilated husk strapped to a steel rack.
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
He screamed in anguish, thrashing as much as his broken body allowed.
(You don't understand the meaning behind any of this, Pietro. You must accept death—or the universe as you know it will end.)
The dark figure stepped closer, arms spread wide.
(Because life is fleeting, it becomes precious and beautiful. Like wilting petals. The Black Racer must run. If the universe is to endure, it must continue this way.)
"I won't give in! Never!"
Pietro gritted his teeth, eyes burning with a rage that seemed to take physical form.
(You still don't understand. If you reject death—everything you remember, everything you love—it will all vanish.)
The shadow ignored his anger, speaking calmly.
(Is that really the outcome you want?)
And then—one of the bodies shimmered.
A woman appeared.
"Kara!"
Staring at her all-too-familiar face, Pietro cried out in shock.
But in the very next instant—a razor-sharp spike, launched by General Zod, pierced straight through Kara's back and into her heart.
"NO!!"
Pietro's eyes nearly burst from their sockets in disbelief.
Kara's expression froze in confusion, and then—her life force began draining away rapidly.
Moments later, Ashley's figure emerged—engulfed in inextinguishable flames. Both she and Venom screamed in agony. The symbiote's form was breaking down, melting under the blaze. Ashley reached desperately toward Pietro, as if pleading for him to save her.
"You bastard! I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!!"
Pietro was so overcome with rage he nearly lost his mind. But none of this slowed the black figure's next move.
(I know what your hope is tied to—that deep sense of security buried in your heart. But what if even he… falls apart?)
Finally, the one face Pietro never wanted to see appeared before him.
"Pi—Pietro?!"
Alex stood there, horrified, staring at Pietro's mutilated, limbless body strapped to the iron rack. Panic and helplessness were written all over his face—as if he couldn't comprehend the nightmare in front of him.
"No!"
Pietro thrashed violently against the restraints. The chains clattered madly against the steel rack with every tortured movement.
But the black figure simply grinned and slowly raised the scythe in his hand.
"Don't you dare—YOU SON OF A—!!"
Pietro turned away. He couldn't bear to witness what came next.
The Reaper's scythe was raised.
SHHK!
A chilling sound of steel piercing flesh echoed through the deathly silent cell.
The next moment…
The Reaper's twisted smile froze on his face.
His pupils slowly drifted downward—only to find Alex standing there, his expression eerily calm.
Alex had turned away from Pietro and now faced the Reaper. And embedded deep in the Reaper's chest…
Was a blade.
Its edge gleamed with lethal precision.
The hilt, still visible from the outside, bore a distinct symbol—the insignia of a Hunter.
.....
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