The planet that was once the cradle of a thriving civilization was now a mausoleum: a crumbling ruin with burned continents and poisoned seas. The skies, always gray, were covered by poisonous clouds so large that they darkened the continents. In orbit, massive piles of debris floated, with one particularly notable fragment: the planet's only natural satellite, which had been split in two long ago by a gigantic explosion, scattering its mass into fragments that formed a ring of rubble around the world.
On a sea of sulfur, the last survivor stood. He had been the first of his kind and now, he was the only one left. Designed to command an army on behalf of his creators with the goal of subjugating or eradicating the rest of the universe, there was no one left. Only him. He had a slim, athletic build, white skin, platinum blonde hair combed back, thick eyebrows, and golden eyes with vertical pupils. His elongated, pointed ears gave him an elfin appearance. They called him Alkanphel, and he remembered the happiness he felt the first time he heard his name.
A small rock pinnacle jutted out of the sea, just a few meters below his feet. It finally crumbled, the last stone of what was once his home, the island where he had slept for centuries. He no longer wanted to look at the world. He knew he was trapped, that he was going to die, and that, no matter how powerful he was, he wouldnât be able to escape. The clouds above him parted in a giant circle, revealing the stars. He had always been fascinated by the stars, as they promised that one day he would travel to them.
He shook his head. "I think I'm too old for that," he thought as he stared at the stars. All his plans, his soldiers, his destiny... all of it was lost. When his creators returned, he could not face them. The creators had not wasted time. After leaving the planet, they created an enormous army of monstrous creatures that hadn't passed all their tests. With a collective mind and guided only by instinct, these creatures were sent to worlds to eradicate their enemies.
A smile appeared on Alkanphel's lips. "Your best weapons couldn't defeat us, those you considered your uncontrolled mistakes," he remembered how, after the first attack, no matter how strong the beasts they sent were and how many waves came, they resisted. These creatures, which would have annihilated entire civilizations, were stopped by a group of failed experiments.
A thunderclap pulled him from his thoughts and brought him back to reality. For the creators, it had been a defeat, yes, but for the humans, it was the end of everything. Even the sun had been wounded in the last battle against the creators' ship. In a few hours, the star that had given light and warmth to his world, the one he had always considered immovable, would explode, erasing humanity and the Earth from the universe.
He clenched his fists in fury as he thought about how the creators were safe, far away from here, and grew enraged imagining that he would never get his revenge for what they had done. That satisfaction of proving that humans were their best creations no longer mattered. "It seems the sun is finished; it has already started to expand," he thought.
Behind Alkanphel, a small man with a large bald head and yellow clothes appeared, wearing a belt, boots, gloves, and a small purple hat. He had arrived three days ago and had been bothering Alkanphel ever since. If Alkanphel could, he would have killed him, but this little man was immune to his powers; nothing affected him. Tired of him, Alkanphel decided to ignore him.
"You must realize by now, in an hour this world will be gone, and so will you," the little man said in a shrill, raspy voice, highly annoying to Alkanphel. "This may be your only chance to save yourself, you know?"
"No," Alkanphel responded curtly. He turned to look at him. The two floated several kilometers above the sea. "If there's little time before I die, I want you to leave me alone."
"Even if I can save you?"
The little man smiled, showing large teeth on his smooth face, making him seem like a mix between a baby and an elf.
"Thereâs nothing left for me outside this world. I have nothing anymore."
"Ah, thatâs not true, and you know it. You still have revenge."
"It would be useless. As soon as they see me escape, theyâll flee. Besides, I donât have more time."
"Even with this," the little man said, showing a strange disk with a round crystal in the center. Alkanphel recognized it immediately: "A Unit (G)," a piece of technology from the creators, designed to merge at the cellular level with a host and amplify their power.
At first, Alkanphel thought about snatching it away, but something he had learned during the war was patience. "How did you get this?"
"Itâs a souvenir. When those massive ships of your creators surrounded this planet, I got this. Iâve been watching you; I know youâre hurt, youâve been dying for a long time, and this could save you."
Alkanphel looked at the unit with an unmistakable expression of desperation. He had missed the chance to obtain one years ago, when the three that existed on Earth were taken in the middle of a conspiracy that forced him to destroy the humans who activated them, turning them into Guyvers. If he had obtained one, the war would have had a very different outcome.
"Listen to my offer and then decide, does that sound okay?" the little man continued while the unit disappeared in front of Alkanphel's eyes. "You see, I have a couple of friends who are obsessed with some little beings. They come, play with them for a while, and then come back to repeat the same cycle. I want you to kill those two for me. Maybe, by doing this, theyâll stop that attitude."
"Youâre mistaken; Iâm not your dog, and I no longer take orders from anyone."
The little man nodded thoughtfully. "Itâs been a long time since you were king of this little world, but youâd be doing me a favor. Iâll get you out of here and give you the Unit (G). In exchange, youâll kill those two, and when youâre done, Iâll send you to the home of your creators."
The proposal was tempting, but Alkanphel wasnât happy with the idea of obeying this strange being. Also, something didnât quite add up. "If you have so much power, why donât you kill them yourself?" he asked, confused.
"Because I wouldnât have proven my point to them. I need someone who can kill them, and that someone will be you," he said, pointing at Alkanphel. "Because I know you donât want to die here, and I know you seek revenge. You deserve retribution, not just for the pain or extinction of your people, but also for the humiliation of being abandoned here. This is your only chance to achieve it."
Alkanphel took a deep breath to calm himself, although he knew he had already made his decision. "You take me out of here and give me that Unit (G), and when Iâm done, youâll leave me with the creators and never bother me again, right?"
With those words, they sealed the deal. The little man gave Alkanphel the unit, which, when he pressed the crystal in the center, opened like a network of flesh that covered his body. At first, it seemed like brown clay, but soon, two red eyes protruded from his head, resembling those of insects. The crystal settled on his forehead, and slowly the outline of his body reinforced as the unit formed an armor over him. It looked like an insect exoskeleton, golden and chitinous, with joints covered in black organs, resembling segmented worms.
A curved horn jutted backward from his head above the crystal, and his toes were covered with separate pieces. From his elbows came small flat blades. On his head, on the sides, were two silver spheres, and on the mouthpiece covering his face, two smaller spheres, along with two slits that released a gas when the crystal glowed. The faceplate was connected to a small organ in his chest via two hoses.
"Just in time," the little man said when a wave of light tore through the sky. Alkanphel saw how the earth exploded. Barely an instant later, they were on the roof of a building. "Welcome to Star City. I wonât set a time limit or ask you to be efficient; I just want you to kill those two I asked you to."
Looking at the city, Alkanphel noticed something incredible. "Humans?" he wondered. It couldnât be. The Earth no longer existed. Where was he? And why were there humans? That was all he could think about. He looked at the blue sky with few clouds. The sun was shining warm and pleasant. He hadnât seen anything like this in years.
"Iâll simplify it for you. This is a divergent reality in the framework of cosmic expansion," the little man said. Seeing the confusion in Alkanphel, he lowered his hands and explained, "This is another Earth planet. It has a similar history to yours, but here, the creators never existed. The humans here arenât like you. This universe is very far from the norm compared to yours. There are alien beings who have come to Earth and now live here."
Alkanphel furrowed his brow. "How different is this place from my world?"
"Quite different, but at the same time, it has similarities. Although Iâll be honest, I brought you here from far away so you could kill those two because you are something theyâve never seen. Theyâve faced gods, armies, and have protected this world many times. I donât know if you can kill them easily. Thatâs why I gave you the Unit (G), so you have better chances. One of them is stronger than you, but I know you can do it, because you were designed to kill, while they donât kill unless strictly necessary."
"Sure, sure, but who are these two?" Alkanphel asked, uninterested in how strong they might be.
"Names: Batman and Superman."Â That was the only response before vanishing into thin air.
Alkanphel remained alone on the rooftop, looking down. The names sounded ridiculous to him: Bat-Man and Super-Man.
Something on the street caught his attentionâa procession of black cars heading toward a massive building in the city center. Nine limousines, escorted by police vehicles, moved forward as some streets were blocked to clear their path. Intrigued, Alkanphel decided to follow them.
He flew off the building to get a better view. In his world, he had never been particularly interested in the lives of people outside his close circle. He spent his days on his island or at military bases, inspecting the troops. Occasionally, he observed societal developmentsâmusic, painting, fashion. Innovations his people had already mastered long before his birth, yet humanity had refined them over time.
He recalled how humans had surprised him in the past. He once visited a city 50,000 years ago, where people wore fabrics they had woven themselves. They had evolved from living in camps around bonfires and wearing animal hides to constructing massive buildings and tailoring elaborate garments. But nothing seemed to last. Barely three centuries later, that city no longer existed.
He had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the ambition of kings gathering armies to expand their domains, only for those lands to be conquered by others half a century later. Every hundred years or so, he would leave his island for a few months to observe the world, and it never ceased to amaze him. They had been created as weapons, yet humans managed to focus their minds on building rather than just destroying. And as time passed, change happened faster and faster.
At least, thatâs how it felt to him. After his creators abandoned him, he had nearly died countless times. He adapted remnants of their technology to put himself into a deep sleep to recover. Unfortunately, this meant that for every decade he slept, he could only remain active for one year. He had never met ordinary peopleâonly those remarkable individuals born with exceptional potential. But the lives of common peopleâfamilies, friends, lovers, even enemiesâwere entirely foreign to him. Compared to his existence, they were insignificant and fragile, yet at the same time, far freer than he had ever been.
The noise of the crowd reached him. Shouts, cheers, threatsâemotions clashing in a chaotic uproar. Some supported the men in the limousines, while others opposed them. It had always been that way: no matter how much good or harm you did, the people would always be divided.
Gradually, he began to understand the language. It was Englishâthough a degraded and simplified version. Comprehending their words was crucial to finding his targets.
The limousines circled a roundabout before stopping in front of a hotel. First, several men in black suits and dark glasses stepped outâthe bodyguards. In a nearby building, a man in a red suit and white mask adjusted his sniper rifle, aiming at the hotel entrance. He had arrived a week earlier, searching for the perfect vantage point. His code was simple: location, patience, and preparation.
Deadshot's finger tensed on the trigger as his target stepped out of the limousineâa bald, short, overweight man in a white suit and black vest. A Bialyan dignitary. Deadshot waited until he was climbing the hotel steps before firing. The bullet, a glowing orange point of light, streaked toward its markâonly to shatter against the hotel door.
A young man in a yellow and red suit had moved the dignitary at the last moment, causing Deadshot to miss. As if on cue, a group of armed motorcyclists stormed the street, firing at the entrance. The same speedster who had saved the dignitary whisked him away, while a team of teenagers in colorful costumes, short capes, and masks leaped from the hotel windows, hurling boomerangs and shooting arrows at the attackers.
One of them, dressed in black and red, struck a motorcyclist, sending him crashing onto the pavement as his bike skidded across the street. Bullets struck the boy, but he stood still, hands on his hips, as if posing amid the gunfire.
As they fought, they shouted phrases that Alkanphel could only describe as childish. They encouraged each other, calling out their names while using boomerangs and batons against armed men. Despite their firepower, the attackers were clearly outmatched.
Alkanphel expanded his awareness, scanning the area. He detected someone running inside the building across from the hotel. The man was just about to reach a car in the back alley when the speedster tackled him, playfully asking if he had anywhere else to go besides prison.
The fight was over within minutes, leaving Alkanphel more confused than ever. Below, in the street littered with destroyed vehicles, bullet-riddled walls, and the bodies of eight fallen bodyguards, the crowd cheered for the costumed teenagers.
He wanted to get closer to understand what had happened, but drawing attention wasnât an option. Instead, he decided to slip into the hotel through a window and steal some clothes.
The aftermath of the battle was grimâ14 people severely injured and hospitalized for nearly a month due to gunshot wounds or severe burns. Over 20 others suffered minor injuries, mostly cuts from shattered glass. At least eight were dead, including bodyguards, pedestrians, and a hotel bellhop who had been waiting to open the door for the dignitary.
Later that night, Alkanphel descended to the street, wearing the best disguise he could findâjeans, sneakers, and a hooded jacket. In front of the hotel, a young man lay dead with a bullet wound in his stomach. The corpses of suited men were scattered along the street. As the chaos settled and people began to disperse, he approached a bystander to ask what had happened.
What he heard only confused him further. It had been an assassination attempt, foiled by a group called the "Titans"âwhich he assumed referred to the teenagers from earlier.
Two weeks later, he learned that the sniper had escaped from prison simply by walking out, while other inmates cheered him on. He had disarmed the guards and used their own weapons to eliminate any resistance.
The following month was absolute chaos for Alkanphel. The daily lives of these pseudo-humans were baffling. Superpowered individuals appeared almost every three days, aliens arrived on Earth regularly, and some even claimed to wield magical abilities.
izzy806
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis