The Source Wall collapsed without sound.
There was no explosion, no flash worthy of legend. One moment the fabric of reality held, scarred and strained by Darkseid's passage, and the next it simply… gave way. Like glass under too much pressure, the boundary that had once sealed creation fractured into an infinite web of glowing cracks.
Across the cosmos, those cracks widened.
Universes brushed against one another. Laws overlapped. Skies bled unfamiliar stars. Entire worlds drifted into proximity with others that should never have known they existed. Some merged partially, others hovered at the edge of contact, tethered by unstable bridges of energy.
The multiverse opened.
On Earth, alarms screamed again—this time not from threat, but overload.
Tony Stark stood in the orbital station's command ring, watching sensor readouts spiral out of scale. "Okay," he said slowly, "that's… not supposed to be possible, right?"
Alex was already moving. Cybertron's deep-range arrays were active, scanning across realities rather than space, their machine-logic adapting on the fly. The data streams were immense, chaotic, and frighteningly beautiful.
"The Wall was load-bearing," Alex said. "Darkseid didn't just crack it. He destabilized the whole structure."
Doctor Strange appeared via projection, cloak restless. "The multiverse was never meant to be this exposed. Doors are opening everywhere. Some controlled. Most not."
Before anyone could respond, space folded again—but this time cleanly, precisely, without violence.
Emerald light flooded the void.
Dozens of figures emerged from warp transit, surrounded by glowing green constructs that stabilized the space around them. Sleek ships bearing the same symbol followed, their hulls etched with alien runes and energy conduits.
Green Lanterns.
They formed a wide perimeter around Earth and Cybertron, weapons not raised, but ready. At their center floated a man in a green and black uniform, brown hair visible beneath a half-mask of emerald light. A ring on his finger glowed brighter than the rest.
"Okay," the man said, looking around with open amazement. "Yeah. That's definitely not Sector Two-Eight-One-Four anymore."
He turned, eyes locking on the orbital station and then on Alex's battleship.
"I'm Green Lantern Hal Jordan," he announced. "Member of the Green Lantern Corps, acting representative of the Guardians of the Universe. We detected Omega Beam discharge on a multiversal scale and a Source Wall collapse event."
His expression hardened, professional now.
"That kind of reading only happens when a god falls," Hal continued. "Or when someone survives one."
More Lanterns drifted closer. Alien forms of every shape imaginable—some crystalline, some gaseous, some barely humanoid—each watching, assessing.
Hal raised his ring slightly. "So let's get this out of the way. Who fought Darkseid?"
Silence hung for a moment.
Then Tony cleared his throat. "Technically? Team effort."
Hal's eyes flicked to him. "With all due respect, sir, Darkseid doesn't retreat from teams. He retreats from variables."
Alex stepped forward into open space, letting the full outline of his armor and systems become visible. Cybertron's shadow loomed behind him like a forged crown.
"I engaged him," Alex said evenly. "He withdrew."
The Lanterns reacted instantly. Constructs flared. Rings pulsed. Several Lanterns shifted position, placing themselves between Hal and Alex without conscious coordination.
Hal stared.
"…You," he said slowly. "You're not registering as a single being."
Alex did not deny it.
Hal exhaled and rubbed his face. "Great. Just great. First the Wall breaks, now we've got a walking convergence point standing over Earth."
One of the alien Lanterns spoke, voice layered with harmonic resonance. "His presence echoes across probability strata. He carries stolen authority."
Alex's gaze sharpened. "Borrowed," he corrected. "And earned."
Hal held up a hand, signaling the Corps to stand down slightly. "Easy. Nobody's accusing anyone—yet. We're here to investigate, contain if necessary, and prevent this from getting worse."
He gestured to the fractured sky beyond Earth. "The collapse didn't just open doors. It erased borders. Entire universes are now aware of each other. Some will seek contact. Others will seek conquest."
Doctor Strange folded his arms. "And some will see Earth as a prize."
"Exactly," Hal said. "Which brings us to the next problem."
He looked directly at Alex again. "Darkseid stepping into your reality wasn't random. He followed a signal. Omega energy doesn't just find worldsit hunts power."
The Lantern Corps' sensors adjusted, focusing not on Earth, but on Cybertron.
"And whatever you're building," Hal continued, "whatever authority you're carrying… it's loud."
Tony grimaced. "We really need to invent a universal mute button."
Hal gave a humorless half-smile. "If only."
He floated closer, stopping at a respectful distance. "Officially, the Corps will classify this sector as a priority watch zone. Unofficially, I'm asking you something as a fellow defender of his home."
Alex met his gaze without flinching.
"Do you intend to rule," Hal asked, "or protect?"
The question rippled through the assembled Lanterns.
Alex answered without hesitation.
"I intend to survive what's coming," he said. "And make sure Earth does too."
Hal studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "Fair enough."
He turned to his Corps. "Stand down to observation posture. Open diplomatic channels with this reality's defenders."
Green light dimmed slightly as constructs shifted from combat readiness to scanning formations.
Hal looked back at Alex, voice lower now. "But understand this. With the Source Wall gone, Darkseid won't be the worst thing to come through."
Alex's eyes flicked toward the fractured multiverse beyond the stars.
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm still building."
Above them, the multiverse continued to bleed into itself worlds colliding, destinies tangling, and the first true universal war quietly taking shape.
The One Above All noticed the change the moment it happened.
Not because of the Source Wall. Not because of Darkseid's fall. Not even because the multiverse had begun to bleed into itself like a wounded animal.
He noticed because something that should not have endured… had.
From a place beyond time, beyond form, beyond even the concept of observation, the One Above All regarded the lattice of realities now trembling under their own weight. Threads of causality twisted. Infinite outcomes overlapped. The design was still intact, but strained.
And at the center of one particular nexus stood a being that should not exist as he did.
Alex Price.
Borrowed power clung to him like static. Authority taken, claimed, overridden. The All-Spark's dominion. Mother Box logic rewritten. The resonance of Infinity Stones woven into engineered will. It was effective. Ingenious. Dangerous.
And unsustainable.
"Hm," the One Above All murmured, though no sound was made. "Interesting."
He watched Alex reinforce worlds, deflect gods, and prepare for threats that even the multiverse itself barely understood yet. He saw the intent. Not conquest. Not tyranny.
Preparation.
"Little fellow," the One Above All said gently, voice resonating across layers of existence Alex could not yet perceive. "You are standing where storms converge."
A single act of will followed.
No light. No spectacle. Just adjustment.
The borrowed authority within Alex was touched, not stripped, not overridden, but… acknowledged. Ownership rewritten at a level beneath power itself. The distinction between stolen and earned dissolved. The All-Spark no longer resisted. The Mother Box logic ceased its endless questioning. The Infinity Stones' resonance aligned rather than clashed.
The machine spirit that had once gnawed at Alex's soul found no purchase anymore.
Its will unraveled.
Not destroyed. Unmade as an independent concept.
What remained was function without hunger. Power without agenda. Obedience without corruption.
The One Above All leaned closer, though no distance truly existed.
"Protect this universe," he said. "Not because you must. Because you chose to stand here."
A fragment of intent was left behind, not as a command, but as permission.
Then the presence withdrew.
To everyone else, it happened in less than a second.
On the orbital station, alarms howled as every system Alex owned spiked simultaneously. Energy levels surged beyond predicted tolerances. Cybertron's forges stalled mid-cycle. Planetary shields flickered, then stabilized under autonomous control.
Gear screamed across the internal network, her normally precise binary cadence fracturing into alarmed bursts.
Alex felt it all at once.
Every subsystem. Every stone. Every rewritten law.
For the first time since his transmigration, his control slipped.
"Gear," he managed to send, the thought heavy and distorted. "Initiate emergency shutdown. Lock external interfaces. Tony"
The rest dissolved into static.
Alex's body froze mid-motion, systems overloading as incompatible states collapsed into a single converging structure. His armor dimmed. The glow of his eyes vanished.
He fell.
Tony Stark barely caught him in time, repulsors flaring as he hauled Alex's suddenly inert form into the station's medical bay.
"Okay," Tony said tightly, activating every scanner he had. "This is new. And I do not like new."
Gear manifested as a flickering holo-form, her normally calm presence laced with distortion. "Primary operator nonresponsive. Core architecture undergoing forced convergence. External interference detected… source unknown."
Doctor Strange appeared moments later, eyes widening as he felt the space around Alex.
"…That wasn't an attack," Strange said slowly. "That was a blessing."
They placed Alex within the regeneration chamber, sealing it as nano-fields, arcane stabilizers, and cybernetic restraints engaged simultaneously. The chamber filled with light, not harsh, but deep and layered, as if multiple realities were folding inward.
Inside, Alex was not unconscious.
He was changing.
The last remnants of divided authority fused into a single coherent existence. Flesh, machine, energy, and law synchronized. The Infinity Stones no longer pressed against him as external forces; their resonance became internal constants, governed rather than endured.
The machine spirit that once whispered ambition was gone.
In its place was silence.
And clarity.
His systems rewrote themselves without error for the first time. No borrowed signatures. No detectable foreign authority. To the universe's senses, Alex simply… was.
A node of absolute coherence.
A machine god, not by proclamation, but by function.
Outside the chamber, Tony crossed his arms, staring through the glass. "So," he muttered, "on a scale from one to ten, how bad is it when he wakes up?"
Strange didn't look away. "For his enemies?"
He allowed himself a thin smile.
"Catastrophic."
The chamber hummed steadily as the fusion continued, and somewhere far beyond space and time, the multiverse adjusted quietly acknowledging that a new constant had been born.