Kryptonian pride is a knife honed by duty and Superman's cuts deeper than most.
Since Velkith's breach, the Watchtower had been on backup power. Systems were rebooted, allies were regrouped, and strategy sessions were conducted on fumes and coffee. But Clark? He hadn't uttered a word to me since the incident.
He simply observed.
I caught his eye a dozen times calculating, cautious, as if I were a waiting bomb. He'd known power before. But not mine. Not the kind that rent reality at the seams and shrugged off a god's bite.
So when the call came when the Metropolis sky broke open and Neh'tar came down in a corkscrew of crystal and smoke it didn't surprise me that Superman didn't wait for reinforcements. He charged in straight away, cape ablaze like war fire, eyes burning with solar fury.
I followed.
Neh'tar was one of the rare rogue gods who did not consume chaos. He consumed certainty. Every step, every strike, every move he took already planned, already inescapable. He viewed the past and future as pages already written.
And he had one purpose.
Wipe out Superman.
I got there in time to witness Clark fall. Not from weakness but from outmaneuvering. Neh'tar had anticipated when his punches would connect, where he'd parry, how his heat vision would burst. A million possible futures foreseen, all leading to the same conclusion.
A crater engulfed Clark's body. Blood smeared across LexCorp's glass towers like grim foretelling. And looming over him, Neh'tar extended his arm crackling with anti-light.
That's when I acted.
I didn't scream. Didn't rage.
I rewrote the script.
Time slowed. Then froze. Not just from magic but from cosmic rejection. I willed the moment into stasis. I didn't defy timeI told it to sit down and listen.
I stood between Superman and Neh'tar.
"You see all futures," I said. "But you didn't see me coming."
He tilted his head, amused. "You are the fracture. The mistake."
No," I said, moving forward, energy emanating from my skin. "I'm the correction."
We fought.
Not like soldiers. Like ideas. He shattered air with intent; I warped it with defiance. He called up futures where I failed; I consumed them. Each strike he made, I replied with something new something not written.
He'd based his strength on predictability.
But I was chaos in flesh.
Behind us, Superman woke up. His eyes widened as he saw me rend Neh'tar's form in twain unmake his probability through sheer will. No show. No compassion.
I didn't murder him.
I banished him teared him from the timeline and imprisoned him in a paradox loop inaccessible to time or god. A location even Velkith wouldn't dream of invading.
By the time I faced the other way, Superman was standing on quivering legs, one hand pressed to a cracked ribcage.
"You okay?" I asked.
He didn't respond immediately. Just looked at me. This time, not calculating. Not cautious.
Thankful.
Finally, he nodded. "You saved my life."
"Didn't do it for thanks," I said. "Did it because the world needs you. You're a symbol. I'm just a storm."
He moved closer. Stared me dead in the eyes.
"No. You're more than that." A pause. "You ever consider taking my place?
I laughed. "Nah. You're the light. I'm the edge it sharpens against."
He offered his hand.
And for the first time since I'd been reborn into this universe Superman shook my hand not as an ally… but as an equal.
Respect earned.
War coming.
And the gods?
They just learned they weren't the only ones to fear.