The stillness after the Tribunal's question was heavy, almost sacred.
Bruce floated alone within the infinite storm of timelines, his astral form glowing softly, layered with the colors and energies of the Ten Rings and his infinity energy.
Three faces of the Living Tribunal watched him.
Their voice echoed again, but softer now, almost human.
"Why stand alone… when no one will remember you?"
Bruce's fists clenched slightly. Not in anger. In memory.
"I… don't remember much," he said quietly. "About the real me. About Jack Lance."
His voice, for once, wasn't armored in certainty. It wavered at the edges... just a little.
"It's blurry. Like a dream I keep trying to wake up from. Bits and pieces… scattered. A streetlight here. Rain. A laugh. A scream. But nothing that makes sense. Nothing I can hold onto."
His gaze drifted downward, not that there was a floor here, only layers of possibility and memory folded into light, but still, his eyes searched the formless abyss for something solid.
"I don't know how I ended up in this reality. Or the other one. Not that I asked for any of this..."
He closed his eyes.
"All I know is… I've rebuilt myself twice. Once, as Tony Stark. I lived, I loved, I lost. I tried to save the world… and I died trying. I was glad I took down Thanos, but well, things got worse after my death."
"And then I woke up again."
He looked up now.
"As Bruce Wayne. I saved my new family and made new bonds... I've rebuilt my life once again."
He saw them now, clearer than memory, more vivid than prophecy.
Harley, laughing while dangling upside down from the Batwing.
Selina, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, amused at everything and everyone.
Morgan, presenting him with some ridiculous over-engineered gadget and asking, "Cool, right?"
Hela meditating in silence, her expression finally at peace.
Sue's smirk. Diana's quiet power. Pamela's reborn hope. Ami's eyes glinted with mischief. Kara is planning something mischievous. Jen looked at him with love and her happy smile.
His children from DC Earth. His friends and family... Everyone... Layer after layer, all his happy and sad memories appeared before his eyes.
He took a breath.
"I don't care if no one remembers me."
"I don't need a statue. Or a name carved into the walls of cosmic history."
He looked at the Tribunal without fear.
"As long as they're safe… as long as they get to live, to laugh, to fall in love, to raise kids and build a future…"
"I'll carry the burden."
His aura flared, not with anger, not with pride, but with love. Fierce. Protective. Eternal.
"I'll fight this war alone if I have to."
"I'll burn away the last of Jack Lance, of Tony Stark, of Bruce Wayne, of whoever I once was… if it means they can live."
"And if I fall… I'll fall knowing I didn't die for nothing."
There was no reply at first.
Just silence.
And then…
The Tribunal's three faces bowed in unison.
And spoke.
"Then you are worthy."
Bruce's eyes widened slightly, his aura flickering in golden ripples as the Tribunal raised its gaze once more. Their presence became denser, more solid, as though the entire weight of the Multiverse was now converging in this moment... this singular point of trust and judgment.
"The Multiverse stands on a fault line. The fabric of reality frays. Time bleeds into itself. And the being you know as Darkseid... is no longer bound by the limits that held him before."
The Tribunal extended a massive hand, composed of stars, laws, and swirling ancient equations. With each gesture, the very fabric of cosmic law realigned.
"He has transcended his own form. His multiversal avatars are mere echoes. What now threatens us all… is his True Self."
The stars behind Bruce dimmed. Images swirled: Realities crumbling like paper. Universes folding in on themselves. New Gods slaughtered. Dimensions erased, not conquered.
"He is weak, for now. Dr. Strange trapped him in an infinite loop. But that won't hold him for long. He will break out soon. And once he completes his transcendence, not even we will be able to stop him directly. The Laws bind us. But you..." their voice trembled with weight, "You are a fracture in the law. A paradox. A singularity of choice."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. "So you can't fight him… but I can."
"No, Jack Lance," said the face of Balance. "You must."
And then it came.
The Tribunal raised both hands to the empty air and tore it open.
A rift in reality itself. But not chaos. Not darkness. It was radiant. Absolute. Beyond time, beyond dimension, a space where the rules that governed gods were rewritten.
And from that rift…
Power.
Raw, golden light, shot through with silver threads of judgment and black streaks of finality.
It wasn't energy in the traditional sense. It was Authority. A fundamental rewriting of Bruce's place in the cosmos.
It slammed into his astral form like a wave of collapsing stars.
He convulsed but did not break.
His body, his very soul... shifted. Not just infused with power, but linked to the Tribunal itself. He became its proxy. Not a servant. Not a puppet.
But a chosen hand.
A Herald of Balance.
The Tribunal's voice thundered again, echoing in every reality that had ever existed and ever would.
"We bestow upon you a fragment of our Law. With it, you shall see what none can hide. Judge what none can evade. Enforce what none can escape."
Bruce's armor pulsed violently, adapting. He felt power beyond anything he had ever imagined or felt. It was as if he could simply control everything without limits.
And then… the light shifted.
A second rift opened. This one was darker.
From it emerged a strange, swirling ore, black as the void, rimmed in scarlet, like molten shadow trapped inside crystallized death. It radiated something ancient and terrible.
Bruce recognized it instantly.
"Radion."
The antithesis of the New Gods. The one substance in all creation that could wound them. Kill them. Even unmake them.
The Tribunal extended it toward Bruce.
"This is the lifeblood of Oblivion. The end of godhood. We gift you enough to forge what must be forged."
Bruce used the space power to open an isolated pocket to store it.
The Tribunal's final words echoed as the rift began to close.
"You now carry judgment. Not vengeance. Not wrath. Judgment. Use it well… or everything ends."
As the Tribunal faded, Bruce's vision became blurry, and before he knew it, he was sitting on his bed, sweating. He could feel the pressure and power within him. It felt really good. The words of the Tribunal echoed in his head.
He got one chance to win.
He looked to his right. Harley was sleeping, clinging on to the bat pillow. He leaned in and kissed her forehead before teleporting to his lab.
Bruce opened the isolated dimension and took out a chunk of Radion.
"I'm gonna nuke your motherfucking ass, Darkseid. Just you wait."
...
[One Week Later – Isolated Temporal Lab]
Bruce stood in the center of a war forge built on principles no human had ever conceived.
Here, inside a temporal pocket bent by the Power of Law, time flowed differently. One week in this space equaled just a few seconds on Earth. With the help of the power of the Mind Stone's energy and the Tribunal's power, he created enough weapons to kill Darkseid.
On one end of the lab:
Radion Core Nukes: the size of footballs, glowing with unstable potential. Each one was enough to rupture the essence of a god.
Radion Shard Grenades: designed to explode midair, releasing microscopic particles to embed into a target's divine nervous system.
Radion-Laced Projectiles: forged with compressed molecular structure to penetrate any armor known to exist.
On the other end:
Twin Blasters (Handheld): reinforced by Remaker and Spectral Ring energy. Each blast delivered focused Radion-core disintegration beams, modifiable in intensity.
Radion-Saber: A melee weapon humming with raw energy. Designed like a blade, but folded from compressed gravity, heat, and the metal of oblivion itself. Its form rippled between reality layers, unstable, deadly.
Judgment Hammer: Too massive for most beings to lift, but light as air in Bruce's hand. This war maul could summon the force of the Law with every strike.
Apart from those, he made multiple singularity bombs, wrap grenades, stasis field generators, remote armors, robots with Radion weapons, and nanites.
And finally, the armor.
The Tenfold Armor had changed.
The remaining Radion had been integrated directly into the armor's core, veins of black-red ore now running beneath its radiant glow like divine circuitry.
Each ring had received a weapon protocol upgrade:
Remaker: Could now temporarily transform inorganic mass into Radion-dust traps.
Spin: Cyclones of frozen Radion particles.
Disintegration: Spectral ring's beam now atomized divine particles.
Zero: Could cast Radion mist in cryogenic vapor form.
Influence: Converted Radion bursts into kinetic bombs.
Incandescence: Fired condensed Radion-charged plasma jets.
Nightbringer: Cloaked Radion signatures into shadow blades, invisible until impact.
Daimonic: Channeled purifying light laced with Radion—an anathema to corruption.
The Liar: Could implant Radion-fueled illusions that caused divine neurosystems to break.
Bruce swiped his hand in the air. The weapons were absorbed within his pocket dimension. Then he put on the armor and clenched his fist.
"This is my everything. Now..."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he teleported to Selina's room. She was watching a late-night TV series.
Bruce stood quietly in the doorway.
Selina paused the show. Her eyes locked with his.
She knew that look. She had seen it before... right before every war, every mission that might be his last. Calm. Focused. Heavy with meaning.
"You know," she said, getting off the bed, walking slowly toward him, "you don't have to do this alone."
Bruce didn't say anything.
His eyes had shifted.
Not toward her face. But lower.
Selina followed his gaze.
Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach.
She had been meaning to tell him.
She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, Bruce spoke, his voice softer than she had heard in a long time.
"…You're pregnant."
Selina froze.
Her eyes widened for just a second, then softened.
She nodded.
"Yeah," she said quietly. "I found out yesterday. Was going to tell you tonight… but I didn't want to distract you. Guess that doesn't matter now."
Bruce took a small step forward, as if drawn to her without thinking. His armored hand slowly lifted and rested gently on her stomach. Even through the suit, he could feel it.
A life.
His child.
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, steadying the rush of emotions building inside him.
Bruce gave a tiny, bittersweet smile.
They stood there in silence.
The glow of the paused TV still flickered behind her. Outside, the world was asleep. But here, in this room, everything was alive.
"You're still going, aren't you?" Selina asked, even though she already knew the answer.
Bruce looked into her eyes.
"I have to," he said softly. "If I don't… there won't be a world for them to be born into."
Selina nodded again. No argument. No guilt. Just understanding. That's why she loved him. That's why it hurt.
"You talked to Morgan?" She asked.
"You know she'll follow me if she finds out what I was going to d,o and I can't let that happen," He shook his head.
"Harley?" Selina asked.
"Nope. You know how she is. She will cling to me unless I let her tag along. This fight. I can't afford to lose anyone," He replied. "I... I just... Haaa..." He was lost for words.
"You come back to me," she said, stepping closer, pressing her forehead to his. "You come back to us."
"I will," Bruce promised, resting his hand over hers on her belly. "No matter what it takes."
Selina leaned up and kissed him gently. "I'll hold you to that, Bat."
He smiled faintly. "I know you will, Cat."
And in that quiet, sacred moment, where war met hope and steel met life...
Bruce Wayne found his reason to win.
...