Metropolis was having a very bad day.
Buildings? More like very expensive dominoes. Roads? Abstract art projects by an angry toddler with a jackhammer. Car alarms? Existential crisis mode. And in the eye of the chaos tornado: Superman and Power Girl, trading punches with the walking apocalypse known as Doomsday.
Doomsday didn't walk. He earthquake'd. Every step was a demolition order. Every roar sounded like someone was drop-kicking a mountain. The monster radiated the kind of energy that made even seasoned kaiju go, "Nope."
Up in the skies, a Daily Planet news chopper hovered like an anxious dragonfly with a press pass. Inside, Lois Lane clutched her mic like it owed her answers.
"And here we are—" she began, her voice almost steady despite the emotional hurricane inside, "—with exclusive aerial coverage of Superman and Power Girl engaging Doomsday across the southern business district. Damage is now estimated at… somewhere between 'new airport' and 'total economic collapse.'"
"Three-point-five billion," Jimmy Olsen offered from the co-pilot seat, squinting at a tablet. "And climbing. That last building was the Bank of Metropolis Tower."
Lois flinched as Superman was flung through a skyscraper like a bullet through butter. He didn't even slow down before rebounding and smacking Doomsday across the face so hard the shockwave gave pigeons PTSD.
She did not scream. She was a professional. Also, maybe dying internally.
"Is it just me," Jimmy muttered, adjusting the camera, "or is Superman punching angrier today?"
"Zoom in on Power Girl," Lois ordered through clenched teeth. "She's doing the cable thing—wait, where did she get bridge cables?!"
Down below, Power Girl—looking like a blonde bombshell cosplaying 'tactical nuke'—had somehow ripped titanium support cables from a nearby bridge and used them to hogtie Doomsday like a rodeo champ with laser eyes.
"Someone's been watching Wonder Woman's YouTube channel," Jimmy mumbled.
Together, Power Girl and Superman slammed Doomsday down onto the midtown bridge. The cables tightened, anchoring into cracked support pillars. The monster snarled like a blender full of gravel—but he was down. For five seconds.
Then came the scream.
"CIVILIANS ON THE BRIDGE!" Beta-9's voice rang out through Justice League comms, silky smooth and all business. Beyoncé, if she were an omniscient A.I.
"Target acquired. Family of four, sedan, ten meters from unstable support. Immediate threat level: catastrophic."
Superman's eyes zeroed in.
"Karen," he said to Power Girl, voice tight.
"Already on it." She blasted toward the family like a rocket in yoga pants.
Superman bolted in the other direction.
Doomsday, of course, did not stay tied up. He roared, flexed, and snapped through the bridge cables like they were made of discount spaghetti. Then, with all the grace of a grumpy freight train, he hurled Superman straight at the news chopper.
"LOIS!" Jimmy screamed.
"Oh my god—" Lois gasped, and then WHAM—
Superman hit the chopper like a meteor with manners. Instead of smashing through it, he caught it. Mid-air. Because physics bows to him sometimes.
"I got you," he grunted, arms trembling, cape flapping like a red banner of awesome. "Hold on!"
The chopper spun like a drunk ballerina, but Superman wrestled it back into a gentle descent, setting it down near the Metropolis Zoo with the care of someone putting a baby to bed.
Lois stumbled out, breath hitching, hair wild. Superman landed beside her.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, barely. "I—I think so."
They stared at each other for half a heartbeat. A hundred things unsaid, a thousand emotions buried under professionalism.
Then the air BOOMED. Power Girl slammed into a concrete overpass like a wrecking ball made of regrets.
Superman's jaw tightened.
"I have to go."
"Go," Lois said. "And Clark?"
He paused.
"Don't you dare die."
A ghost of a smile. Then—WHOOSH. Gone.
Back in the war zone that used to be a city, the Justice League wasn't exactly chilling.
—The Flash blurred through the chaos, yanking civilians out of danger so fast the air was confused. "That's the fifth time that guy's almost died today. I'm starting to think he's doing it for the insurance money."
—Cyborg had three drones online, four subroutines multitasking, and a cannon arm that sang sweet dubstep justice into falling debris. "Traffic rerouted. Grid stable. Also, I just bought everyone in the evacuation zone a latte. You're welcome."
—Hawkwoman dive-bombed into a collapsing parking garage, slashing support beams and catching falling civilians mid-air like a mythological Uber.
—Huntress zip-lined from rooftop to rooftop. "Someone tell Doomsday this isn't a Monster Jam commercial. I'm almost out of bolts."
—Green Lantern floated above the chaos, crafting massive glowing constructs. Today's arsenal included a catcher's mitt, a gumball machine full of riot foam, and a giant hammer labeled 'Subtlety.' "I've got this side locked down," he said over comms. "Unless Doomsday learns to fly. In which case—I call dibs on punching him into the moon."
—Batman, all shadow and scowl, stood atop a ruined statue like it was Tuesday. "Beta-9, report."
"Target is adapting. Estimate: fifteen percent increase in strength. Also, you should hydrate, Bruce."
—Aquaman and Marella tag-teamed the sewers, redirecting tsunami-level floodwater and bursting pipes.
"We're gonna need a new plumbing department," Aquaman muttered.
"Or a better city," Marella replied. "This one leaks worse than Atlantis after Mardi Gras."
—Martian Manhunter phased through rubble, gently lifting trapped civilians, one hand on their shoulder. "You are safe. Your pain is heard. You will survive."
And in the air, glowing with solar fury, Superman returned to the fight.
Fists clenched. Cape torn. Hope unbroken.
Because only he could stop it.
At least… until Harry showed up.
—
Metropolis had just started to remember what silence felt like. Birds chirped. Dogs barked. A street musician had even started playing Wonderwall.
That lasted roughly thirty seconds.
Then Superman and Power Girl came barreling in like a pair of angry Kryptonian missiles, and Doomsday? He was the cosmic piñata.
"Clark! Left flank!" Power Girl shouted, her blonde hair streaking like a comet as she veered hard and aimed a full-force uppercut to Doomsday's chin.
"Already on it!" Superman grunted, slamming into the monster's midsection. The impact launched them into orbit so fast the moon probably filed a noise complaint.
In space, things got punchy.
Power Girl followed with a sonic boom that made Mars turn its telescopes. Muscles burned. Heat vision sizzled. Somewhere, a satellite exploded. Probably important.
Doomsday? Still not impressed.
With a roar that sounded like a T. rex gargling lava, he twisted, flinging Power Girl into a passing chunk of space junk.
"Hey! That was a perfectly good space station!" she yelled.
Superman didn't get to comment because Doomsday clawed him across the chest so hard blood sprayed like confetti. Red and dramatic. Very gladiator chic.
Gravity said hello.
The three of them plummeted.
KRRAAA-KOOM!
Downtown Metropolis was reintroduced to meteor-class violence. A crater opened wide enough to host a villain convention. Buildings collapsed. Street signs gave up. A pigeon screamed.
Silence again. Not peaceful silence. Oh no. This was the kind of silence that usually preceded the next big explosion.
Doomsday rose. Casual. Unbothered. Like he just came out of a spa. Cracked his neck. Flexed. Looked around.
Then came Lois Lane. Stumbling. Coughing. Dressed like she'd survived an apocalypse (because she had). Her eyes found Superman—the man she loved—crumpled, bleeding.
She also found Doomsday, staring at her like she was the main course.
He started walking. Each step was a punctuation mark. Like doom. Doom. Doom.
Lois didn't flinch. Maybe she was too scared. Maybe too angry. Maybe she'd reached that level of emotional exhaustion where even death gets a side-eye.
And then—VRRRMMMM—SKREEEEEECH!
Lex Luthor entered, piloting a mechanized suit the size of a yacht, glowing like a Christmas tree on steroids.
"GET AWAY FROM HER, YOU PREHISTORIC TURD!" Lex screamed, launching a barrage of energy blasts.
Doomsday staggered. For a moment. Lex preened like a peacock with WiFi.
"Armor integrity at 82%," Mercy Graves chirped in his ear. "Weapon efficacy: satisfying."
"I KNOW," Lex said smugly. "I've been waiting for this."
The beam he launched this time was pure overcompensation.
Doomsday reeled back. The skyline lit up like Metropolis was throwing a rave.
"I AM YOUR SAVIOR! NOT THE ALIEN! NOT THE FARMBOY! NOT THE GIRL WITH GRAVITY-DEFYING—OH GOD—"
Because Doomsday had opinions. And claws.
One swipe. Suit ripped like wet paper. Lex got yeeted into the pavement like an angry toddler rejecting broccoli.
"Why... why is it always me..." Lex groaned.
Doomsday raised a fist. End credits approaching.
Then the sky turned red.
Crimson. Biblical. Bad-news red.
A figure descended. Cloaked. Armored. Veins of energy glowing like magma on a bad mood. A symbol pulsed on his chest. His eyes? Red. Glowing. Judgy.
Eidolon.
He hovered. Still. Power curled around him like a waiting storm.
"Step away from him," he said.
Quiet. But the words shook the air.
Doomsday lunged. Because of course he did.
Eidolon raised one hand.
And BOOM.
A blast of crimson energy flung Doomsday like a ragdoll into a collapsing building. Dust. Glass. One very startled cat.
Doomsday got up. Bleeding.
For the first time ever.
Lois blinked. "What the hell..."
But Eidolon was already descending. Like judgment in a hoodie.
From the smoke emerged two visions of divine fury.
Diana, in full Amazonian armor, looking like a goddess had just stepped off Mount Olympus with a sword. She rushed to Superman, kneeling.
"Clark," she said gently, cradling his face. "You've done enough."
Mera followed. Hair a halo of red flame. Attitude all Atlantis. She conjured a sphere of water and gently lifted Power Girl like a queen rescuing another.
"Come on, blondie," she muttered. "Let's get you out of ground zero."
Harry—Eidolon—touched down. Cloak billowing. Heat rippling off him like a fresh-baked judgmental pie.
"Right then," he said, British accent as sharp as a butter knife in a prison yard. "Who wants to explain why Cousin Krypton just left a Doomsday-shaped stamp on half your skyline?"
Diana looked up, smirking. "Nice entrance."
"I do try," he replied. "Mostly to avoid the paperwork."
Mera arched a brow. "Dramatic much?"
He gave her a sideways look. "Coming from the woman whose last outfit looked like Poseidon and a sequin factory had a lovechild?"
Flash zipped up next to them. "Oh man, Eidolon! That was awesome! You just whoosh and bam! Can you teach me that?"
"First step," Eidolon said, deadpan. "Be British."
"I'm already fast. I can learn the accent," Flash said, putting on the worst Cockney impression in history.
Green Lantern floated down behind him. "Please don't. My ears will sue."
Hawkwoman flew in overhead, mace at the ready. "Eidolon, you picking fights without me again?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry said, grinning. "Though the big guy did start it."
Martian Manhunter phased through the rubble. Voice calm, mind buzzing.
"We need to regroup. Strategize."
"I'll make tea," Harry said. "You lot do your strategizing. I'll handle the punching."
From a nearby rooftop, Batman watched. Silent. Brooding.
"He's effective," he said.
"He's chaos," Huntress replied beside him, twirling a crossbow. "I like him."
Beta-9 chimed through the comms. "Eidolon, your dramatic timing is noted."
"Why thank you, darling," Harry replied. "Now tell the rest of the team to suit up. This was just round one."
He turned back toward the crater, where Doomsday was dragging himself upright.
"Let's give him round two. And this time, I want a light show."
Diana stepped beside him. Their eyes met. Her lip quirked.
"We work well together."
"We also look stunning in leather," he quipped.
Mera joined them, eyes gleaming.
"I vote we break him, then fight over who gets to interrogate him."
Harry grinned. "Ladies first."
Then the three of them charged.
A Demigoddess. A Princess. And Chaos in a cloak.
Metropolis wasn't ready.
—
Doomsday growled.
Not just a sound. Not even close. This was the kind of noise that made mountains nervous and tectonic plates shuffle awkwardly to the side. If a volcano had feelings and decided to audition for a metal band, that would be the growl.
Then he lunged.
"Someone's cranky," Eidolon muttered, sidestepping like he'd just dodged a mildly annoying bee instead of a charging apocalypse.
Wonder Woman intercepted the beast mid-air, her bracelets clanging against claws in a sound that rang like divine alarm bells. Her blade danced across Doomsday's chest, carving a sizzling line of silver across gray rock-flesh. Blood—if you could call that boiling tar stuff blood—hissed onto the street.
"Doesn't he ever stop?" Diana asked.
"Nope," Mera answered, launching herself like a ruby-tipped missile. Her spear—half water, half divine vengeance—slammed into Doomsday's ribs. The resulting wave drenched three buildings and a very unlucky hot dog cart.
Doomsday staggered. For a second, he looked—offended? Then he backhanded Mera across the street like a sopping wet frisbee.
"Rude," Mera muttered before crashing through the lobby of a bank, leaving a very artistic Mera-shaped hole.
Eidolon didn't wait. That wasn't his thing.
One second: standing still, Britishly unimpressed.
Next second: delivering a right hook that cracked the air like Zeus had decided to drop a bassline.
Doomsday didn't fly back. Oh no. He planted his feet and punched back like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment.
And thus began the Symphony of Punches.
Crimson runes lit up across Eidolon's body—glowing scripts of ancient magic and newer sarcasm. Every punch was less a blow and more a divine insult to the laws of physics. Doomsday's fists were anvils. Eidolon's were god-hammers dipped in sass.
"You hit like an angry IKEA bookshelf," Eidolon said, dodging a swipe and uppercutting the beast so hard the street cracked into modern art.
"Less furniture," Diana called, "more smiting!"
"Sorry, darling, but I can't help it. He looks like someone lost a wrestling match to a rock garden."
Boom. Boom. BOOM.
They clashed midair, and the shockwave knocked over a news helicopter, which Flash caught casually before zipping it to safety.
"You're welcome!" he said, zipping by again. "Also, ten bucks on Eidolon—unless Doomsday pulls out a second head or something. Then I want my bet back."
Green Lantern hovered above, ring glowing like a very annoyed emerald. "Anyone want a giant flyswatter? 'Cause I can make one. I'm just saying."
"Save it," Batman growled from his perch, cape fluttering dramatically. "We're watching a demigod brawl. Best case, we don't die."
Eidolon blinked into position behind Doomsday and landed a punch that created a sonic boom visible from orbit. Clouds parted. Birds fainted. Somewhere, a dog barked and immediately regretted it.
Doomsday retaliated with a flurry of strikes. Eidolon took the hits with a grin.
"You done, Stoneface? Because I've got more burns than the internet on a Monday."
Diana landed beside him, bloodied but breathtaking, her eyes glowing with battle light. She shot him a smirk.
"Nice left hook. Sexy and devastating."
"I aim to please," Eidolon replied, his eyes scanning the damage below. Metropolis was—well, let's just say the repair bill was going to make Wayne Enterprises cry.
Mera limped into view, soaked, scraped, and royally pissed off. "I liked that building," she said, nodding toward the flattened structure.
"We'll build you two," Eidolon offered, "with a hot tub."
"Three," she said. "And a wine cellar."
"Deal."
Then he looked down.
The city was crumbling under the weight of their fight. Every punch broke homes, cracked foundations, and turned babies into accidental astronauts.
He closed his eyes.
One breath.
They opened again—burning with magic, fury, and a quiet British exasperation.
"Enough."
He vanished.
Reappeared behind Doomsday and locked the monster in a glowing bear hug. Magic laced his arms. Reality creaked.
"Let's take this outside, sunshine."
With a crack that split the sky and probably a few rules of quantum mechanics, they vanished.
Just... gone.
Silence fell like a dropped piano.
Beta-9's voice crackled in everyone's earpiece, calm and honey-rich. "Tracking… location unknown. Temporal displacement detected. Warning: sass levels remain dangerously high."
Huntress leaned on her crossbow. "So… tea break?"
From the rooftop, Batman narrowed his eyes. "Where did he take him?"
"Hell, maybe," Flash said. "Or like, Detroit."
Wonder Woman didn't answer. She just stared at the sky, chest rising and falling.
"Wherever it is," she whispered, "I hope it survives."
Emergency sirens howled across Metropolis. Buildings smoldered. Heroes regrouped. The air was thick with dust and tension.
Round two? Done.
Round three?
That would be private.
And God help whoever got front-row seats.
—
Beta-9's voice crackled back through the comms like a velvet hammer. Smooth. Calm. And deeply ominous.
"Update: WayneTech Deep Orbit Surveillance Network and PeverellTech's Arcane Relay Satellites have detected anomalous activity… on Mars."
Dead silence.
Even the Martian wind sounded like it went, "Wait, what?"
Flash blinked. Then blinked again.
"Did she say Mars? Like the red one? The war god's bachelor pad?"
Huntress already had her gauntlet up, a blue-hued projection flickering to life above her wrist. Grainy, but clear enough. Two figures. One wrapped in crimson magic and sarcastic arrogance. The other a walking extinction-level tantrum with muscles the size of small continents.
They were fighting. Again. And it looked biblical.
"Visuals incoming," Beta-9 said, Beyoncé-smooth. "Warning: energy readings exceed recommended levels for planetary stability. Also, Doomsday appears... larger."
"Larger?" Green Lantern repeated. "What, like someone inflated him with rage and gamma radiation?"
Batman squinted at the footage, jaw clenched. Doomsday was indeed larger. And wielding what might've once been a Martian mountain like it was a baseball bat. He swung it at Eidolon like it owed him rent.
"Magnify that," Batman barked.
The camera zoomed. Eidolon stood his ground, eyes aglow with phoenix fire, crimson runes flaring like the planet was whispering ancient secrets just to him. One rune, near his collarbone, pulsed in time with the planet beneath his boots.
"Beta-9," Huntress asked slowly, "Is he—is he drawing magic from Mars?"
"Confirmed. Martian ley lines are responding to Eidolon's presence. Cross-referencing with Peverell Grimoire Protocols... he is channeling planetary lifeforce."
Flash made a noise somewhere between a wheeze and a squeak. "Right. Cool. Awesome. Love that for us. Eidolon's gone full Avatar: Planet Bender. Can we send him a hug or a coffee? Or maybe a therapist?"
Wonder Woman said nothing. She simply watched. Her lips were set, her jaw tense, and her sword was already halfway out of its sheath.
"Mars was a choice," Batman said. "Uninhabited. Resonant with ancient energy. Eidolon chose this battleground. He knew Doomsday would follow."
"Smart," said Huntress. "Also insane. But smart."
Then the storm began. A literal dust storm kicked up by a right hook that cracked the Martian crust. Doomsday roared, and for a second, even the satellites trembled.
Eidolon barely moved.
He raised one hand. His voice echoed across dimensions.
"Sanctum Martis."
One rune on his forehead lit up like a beacon. A pulse radiated outward. Then the feed snapped to static.
Silence.
Dead, star-choked silence.
"Beta-9," Batman snapped. "Regain signal. Now."
"Trying. Atmospheric distortion is interfering. Wait. Pulse detected. Eidolon's vitals are... present. Doomsday's... unknown."
A soft ping.
"New development: PeverellTech sensors detect a spatial rupture. Coordinates match Eidolon's dimensional signature. He is opening a door."
Flash squinted. "To what? Narnia? The Upside Down? A beach in Goa?"
Batman didn't flinch. "Somewhere else."
Wonder Woman unsheathed her sword fully, the steel glinting even in hologram light. Her face was a storm of focus and fire.
"Then wherever he's going," she said, "we follow."
Because if this was Round Three...
Round Four was going to be cosmic.
—
They were flying so fast even the clouds looked confused.
Hal Jordan, a.k.a. Green Lantern and certified intergalactic wisecracker, zipped through the upper atmosphere, carrying Power Girl like she was a particularly sassy bag of radioactive groceries. "So," Hal called over the wind, "we all agreed crashing Superman's bachelor igloo in the Arctic was a good idea, right? Just making sure no one has any moral objections before I inevitably push the wrong button and blow up Neptune."
"Keep talking, Hal," Hawkwoman snapped, her Nth-metal wings slicing through the air like she was born to do this. She had Lois Lane tucked safely in one arm like a grumpy kitten with a press pass. "I swear on the last nacho in the universe, you're gonna find out what my mace does to people with an overactive mouth."
Lois glared at the landscape zipping below. "If I don't survive this, I'm haunting all of you. Especially Clark. That man pulls one more noble, self-sacrificing, emotionally manipulative, death-defying stunt, and I swear to Pulitzer, I'm marrying Batman out of spite."
"Left!" Power Girl groaned. She was bleeding, limping, and still somehow more coherent than Hal. "Turn left at the ice spike that looks like it's auditioning to be Elsa's plus-one at Comic Con."
Martian Manhunter, ever the stoic Martian zen master, floated beside them holding Superman like a human paperweight. His expression was unreadable, which made sense since reading Martian expressions was like trying to interpret a Magic Eye poster.
"I do not see an entrance," he said calmly, voice as smooth as dark chocolate and twice as cool.
"That's the point," Power Girl muttered, wincing as Hal dipped into a steep descent. "Cloaking field. Only Kryptonians can see it. Or people emotionally attached to Kryptonians. Or just people carrying Kryptonians. Honestly, I stopped reading the fine print after the last Fortress update."
The air shimmered. Like reality had just yawned and decided to reveal a hidden sci-fi cathedral forged out of alien ice and Big Hero 6 aesthetics. The Fortress of Solitude appeared before them, all crystal spires and glowing panels, like Superman had decorated using Siri, Tony Stark, and an actual snowstorm.
Hal whistled. "Well, would you look at that. Superman lives in a frozen iPhone."
They landed. The temperature dropped a solid twenty degrees—instantly turning Hal's breath into clouds and his sass into steam.
Superman wasn't moving. Which was terrifying.
Clark Kent—man of steel, hope, and annoyingly perfect cheekbones—looked like he'd gone ten rounds with a planet. And lost.
Then came the droid.
Out from the shadows glided Kelex, Superman's robotic butler-slash-security system-slash-very judgmental Roomba. Sleek frame. Glowing blue optics. A voice that sounded like Simon Pegg had been asked to play C-3PO with a hangover.
"Halt," Kelex said in a smooth British accent that sounded way too polite to be delivering bad news. "You are intruders. This sanctum is restricted. Authorization required or—"
"Kelex," Power Girl rasped, forcing herself upright in Hal's arms. "House of El. Authorization K-X-1023."
Kelex paused mid-threat, his optics blinking like he'd just recognized someone at a dinner party and suddenly regretted being rude.
"Power Girl. Kal-El. Status: Critical. You are both—"
"Yeah, yeah, I look like a meatball in a cape," Kara growled. "Clark's worse. He needs the healing chamber. Now."
Kelex zipped forward, scanning Superman with clinical efficiency.
"Kal-El is experiencing severe internal trauma. Cellular collapse. Respiratory failure. Heart rate dangerously unstable. I estimate 4.7 minutes until full systemic shutdown."
Lois went still. For a second, she stopped breathing.
Then she snapped.
"Well, stop monologuing and fix him!" she barked, fists clenched. "You're a glorified alien Alexa—start earning your keep!"
Kelex tilted his head like a dog trying to understand sarcasm.
"Understood," he said. "Initiating emergency healing protocol. Chamber One: Online."
A crystal dais rose from the floor, glowing with golden light and more drama than a Broadway spotlight.
Kelex turned to Martian Manhunter. "Place Kal-El on the chamber. Warning: The process may appear… invasive."
"Invasive how?" Hal asked warily.
The chamber lit up with glowing tendrils that looked like a cross between a jellyfish rave and a surgical nightmare.
"Oh," Hal muttered. "Great. So it's The Matrix. If the Matrix was designed by IKEA and ran on hugs."
J'onn placed Superman on the dais. The tendrils moved with eerie precision, cocooning Clark in light and energy. A low hum filled the air. The Fortress itself seemed to hold its breath.
Lois stepped closer, as if proximity alone could force Clark to be okay. "Is he going to make it?"
Power Girl exhaled, then muttered, "He's Superman. If he doesn't pull through, we might as well start writing our wills."
Kelex turned his glowing optics to Kara. "You, Kara Zor-El, are also experiencing multi-system trauma. Several cracked ribs. Damaged ligaments. Concussion. You require immediate medical assistance."
Kara shook her head. "Later. Clark first. I can walk. Kinda. Maybe. On a good day."
"You're being stubborn," Martian Manhunter observed.
"Yup," Kara grinned, eyes fluttering closed. "Runs in the family."
Lois looked at her. "When he wakes up, I'm punching him. And maybe crying. In that order."
Kara smirked. "Get in line."
Hal rubbed the back of his neck. "Is it just me, or does Superman exclusively attract terrifying women who threaten to hit him when he's unconscious?"
"Say that again," Hawkwoman said, her voice calm but deadly, "and I will demonstrate every part of my mace that isn't decorative."
Hal wisely zipped his lips.
Behind them, the Fortress hummed with energy and ancient Kryptonian tech. The crystals pulsed. The chamber glowed. And within it, Superman—Kal-El—breathed. Barely. But he breathed.
He wasn't gone.
Not yet.
But the storm wasn't over.
And somewhere far away, on a dead world painted in ash and fury, Eidolon was still fighting a monster the universe had no business creating.
And the next punch might decide whether anyone got to see tomorrow.
—
Beta-9's voice returned with all the grace and drama of Beyoncé announcing the apocalypse.
"Update: Eidolon has created a dimensional aperture. Coordinates recalibrated. They've reappeared near solar orbit."
Flash froze mid-sip of his protein shake, which now hovered tragically just short of his mouth.
"Solar orbit? As in, he's actually fighting Doomsday on the freaking Sun?"
"Affirmative," Beta-9 confirmed, the voice smooth and sultry despite the impending doom. "Proximity: photosphere. Radiation output: off the charts. Casual reminder: lethal for most mortals. Eidolon appears... unbothered."
Mera blinked, sea-green eyes wide. "He took the fight to the Sun?"
"Either he's insane," Aquaman muttered, gripping his golden trident, "or absolutely brilliant."
Batman, the human black hole of optimism, didn't flinch. "He's desperate. Or maybe both."
A burst of static hit the holo-feed before the image came back, revealing fire incarnate. Two silhouettes raged against a background of sunfire, glowing like angry gods.
Eidolon was flying like a comet possessed. Runes blazed across his armor, and his body moved like a burning sword cutting through reality. And Doomsday—now mutated even further, all jagged bone and malice—looked like he'd just eaten a star and wasn't done chewing.
"He's glowing," Huntress observed dryly. "Is that a good sign?"
"He's syncing with the solar magic field," Cyborg said, eyes scanning fast. "He's pulling on the star's lifeforce like a giant battery."
"Pretty sure I saw this in a Dragon Ball episode," Flash muttered. "Or maybe five."
Wonder Woman stepped closer to the screen, her jaw clenched, her blade already drawn. Her hair billowed like it had its own mood. Alexandra Daddario would be proud.
Then, the comms crackled with static—and his voice came through.
Eidolon. Harry Peverell. The sass master, the spell-slinger, the death-defying ginger menace.
"If anyone's listening," his voice said, barely audible over the roar of solar storms, "and I somehow don't make it out of this: Mera, I'm still waiting on that swim lesson. Diana, your lasso's still in my room. And Batman… you still owe me a coffee."
Mera rolled her eyes. "He's flirting again. That's a good sign."
"I'm not complaining," Diana murmured, but her eyes remained fixed on the figure bathed in fire.
"Let the stars bear witness," Eidolon said, the heat warping his words but not their intent. "I end this now… for Earth."
Then he moved.
And oh, he moved.
He was a red-and-black blur, flying faster than even Flash could clock. One second he was standing still, the next he was a nuclear freight train, barreling straight at Doomsday. The Sun behind him flared like it was cheering.
Doomsday roared—loud enough to rattle Beta-9's frequency—and threw a punch. Eidolon didn't dodge. He accelerated.
The impact was heard across the solar system. No, seriously. Saturn's rings probably trembled.
CRACK.
Eidolon's fist met Doomsday's jaw. Reality blinked.
Doomsday's neck snapped. His body flailed. Spun. And then, gravity took over.
The monster plunged into the Sun like a boulder into lava.
Gone.
Dead.
"Target neutralized," Beta-9 confirmed. "Doomsday's vitals terminated. Confirmed solar absorption. Resurrection probability: less than one percent."
Silence.
"Well, holy Helios," Marella whispered. "He did it."
"Because he's Harry freaking Peverell," Flash muttered. "Of course he did it."
But then the screen shifted.
Eidolon floated there. Still.
And then they saw it.
One of Doomsday's bone spikes—massive, jagged—was stabbed through his chest. Blood floated around him, flickering gold-red in the solar flare.
His armor was cracked. His runes dimming.
He was dying.
Again.
Mera gasped. "He's impaled!"
Cyborg's face darkened. "Vitals are fading fast. He's losing blood. Internal organs compromised. Estimated survival: sixty seconds."
"Not enough time for a Boom Tube," Huntress said, panic creeping into her voice.
"He won't die," Diana said firmly, stepping forward. Her tone dared the universe to argue. "He can't."
Batman finally broke his silence. "Beta-9. Open an extraction gate. Now."
"Affirmative. Locking onto beacon signature. Generating solar proximity portal. Window is narrow."
Flash paced like a caffeinated hamster. "This is crazy. He just beat Doomsday on the Sun. That's like… cosmic-level flexing!"
Then Eidolon's voice—barely a whisper—came back one last time.
"Did… Did anyone record that punch? Because I wanna put it on a t-shirt."
Mera laughed. Laughed. Even as tears welled in her eyes.
"He's still conscious!"
"Barely," Cyborg added. "Get him home."
Wonder Woman stepped forward as the portal opened.
And then, through the fire and storm, she saw him: eyes closed, hair drifting in solar wind, lips curled in the ghost of a smirk.
The Champion of Death.
The sassiest warlock who ever lived.
Her Eidolon.
She leapt.
The solar wind screamed as she crossed the threshold.
And as she reached for him—just before he slipped away—Harry's body shimmered. The runes flared once more. A heartbeat of light pulsed through the Sun.
And then… silence.
The screen cut to white.
The mission was over.
But Eidolon's story?
Not even death could stop that.
—
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!