Chapter 187: I Have A Plan To Make Darkseid Vanish Into Ashes
Originally, Darkseid had the upper hand.
However, at that critical moment when the ray was about to fire.
“Sizzle—!”
A new rift tore open from the “sky” of the Lightless Realm. Not scarlet, not dim, but a blazing, burning black fierce sun.
The sword body flowed with lava-like patterns, and wherever the sword tip pointed, even the deepest darkness had to retreat. Darkseid abruptly looked up, the Omega Ray violently fluctuating in his eyes.
He sensed a threat—not from strength, but from the terrifying laws contained within that sword.
“Who?!”
He roared, his voice shaking through the Void.
Clark Kent, Ian’s father, in the darkness of the Lightless Realm, suddenly clenched his fingers tightly around the Darkness Sword that shot out from the dimensional rift.
When Clark Kent’s fingers gripped the cold, writhing, malice-filled sword hilt, an unprecedented shiver raced up his arm bone straight to the top of his skull.
“Urgh…”
Clark let out a suppressed low growl, his sclera almost instantly eroded and filled by the black substance spreading from the sword body, transforming into two pure, bottomless dark stars.
The brilliant golden glow was suppressed and covered by the void black mist emanating from the sword body, a layer of flowing black biological armor covered with sharp barbs rapidly spreading along his arms, wrapping his torso, legs, and finally forming a ferocious horned helmet on his face that only exposed his jaw.
A flicker of dimness passed through Clark Kent’s eyes, but it was immediately suppressed by resolute blue light. He knew this sword was eerie, but he also knew that only something sinister could counter evil at this moment.
Clark Kent trusted Ian.
So.
He did not hesitate.
He directly swung the sword to slash at Darkseid.
“Evil thing!” the Dark King roared, no longer able to maintain absolute suppression over the two Golden Supermen at his feet. He abruptly redirected nearly all his power toward Clark, the Omega Ray in his eyes accumulated to its peak transforming into two roaring blood-colored galactic rivers, no longer straight beams but countless entangled, hissing chains of causality.
He tried to “define” and “delete” this sword-wielding threat from the root!
If it were the previous Clark, he might have chosen to evade or counter with stronger energy. But at this moment, driven by the instinct of the Darkness Sword, he made the most direct, most terrifying reaction—he gripped the sword with both hands, facing the scarlet flood capable of erasing the Multiverse, and slashed upward with full force!
“Rip—!”
A teeth-grinding massive sound, as if cloth was forcibly torn, shocked the entire Lightless Dimension. Wherever the Darkness Sword’s edge passed, the Omega Ray was forcibly “split” open!
“What?!” Darkseid changed color for the first time. His Omega Ray, which could evaporate time, space, and the essence of the Universe, was eaten by a single sword?
It was not cancellation or neutralization of energy, but a more fundamental “devouring” and “negation.” Where the blade passed, the scarlet light vanished abruptly like encountering a void cliff, not dissipating but thoroughly erased from the level of “Existence,” leaving two eternal, absolute “nothing” trajectories devoid of any energy or information.
“Looks like you’re not truly invincible after all!”
Clark’s figure stood in the center of these two “nothing” trajectories, breaking through the scarlet torrent, charging toward Darkseid at speed beyond physical limits!
His form shot forward like a cannonball. The Darkness Sword in his hand seemed to come alive, leaving scorched marks in space wherever the tip passed, like burned paper.
The void under Superman’s feet constantly collapsed under the unbearable force, forming a series of black footprint-shaped cracks. This was the power of the god-slaying weapon. The Darkness Sword, a divine artifact from the Marvel Universe originating from the evil Ancient God Nar, was one of the earliest and most representative “Symbiote weapons” in the Marvel Universe.
Its birth was closely related to Nar’s “anti-Celestial” strategy—Nar, as the Symbiote God, originally created Symbiotes to fight the Celestials. The Darkness Sword was forged from the divine fire in the heads of slain Celestials, thus becoming the first true Symbiote weapon in the Marvel Universe.
Since Nar forged the Darkness Sword to counter the Celestials, it meant that from the moment of its creation, it was a weapon made to deal with god races.
It had extreme restraining effects against god races. Whether Odin’s Asgard, Thor, or god races from other universes, the Darkness Sword could inflict fatal damage on them.
Darkseid happened to be a DC New God, right within the scope restrained by the Darkness Sword.
“I’ve never heard of such a weapon. What outer universe being have you allied with?”
Darkseid finally changed color.
He abandoned all thoughts of hard resistance; this Dark King renowned for absolute strength and domination elevated “evasion” to the highest priority for the first time!
Suddenly, Darkseid’s form flickered, instantly splitting into thousands upon thousands of phantoms existing on different timelines and dimensional coordinates, each emitting identical divine power fluctuations, indistinguishable as real or fake. However, the Darkness Sword hummed, and Clark didn’t even glance at those phantoms, the sword tip pointing straight at the single point of most concentrated “presence” among the countless phantoms.
It was the “reality anchor point” where Darkseid’s true body was located! Before the blade arrived, that chilling intent of “negating existence” already made Darkseid’s true body skin prickle with pain.
He was forced to abruptly interrupt his battle plan, his true body awkwardly shifting aside.
“Darkseid!”
Clark roared, his voice exploding in the Void, shattering the solidified darkness. He swung the sword, the motion simple yet containing a thousand jun of force. The Darkness Sword tore through the void, a pitch-black arc-shaped slash detaching from the blade, and wherever it passed, even the absolute darkness of the “Lightless Realm” was torn open, revealing the twisted dimensional turbulence behind.
As a Symbiote weapon, the Darkness Sword retained some Symbiote characteristics—it could fuse with the wielder’s consciousness, enhancing battle perception, with extremely strong physical attack power that could easily cleave god race armor, and its surface spike structure also amplified piercing damage.
This weapon.
Was the type where the stronger the user, the greater the power it could unleash.
The core effect of the Darkness Sword was to amplify the wielder’s inner strength.
This effect was not simple “power enhancement,” but a “key” to excavate the wielder’s own potential, allowing the user to break through their limits. Even Gorr, as an ordinary being, had once used the Darkness Sword to slaughter most of the gods of the Nine Realms, even severing a Celestial’s head.
Now it was in Superman’s hands.
The Superman with the most enigmatic potential in the DC Universe.
That hidden potential was being drawn out.
“Damn it!”
Darkseid’s pupils contracted sharply.
As a cosmic tyrant mastering Omega Power, he had long transcended mortal perception. Yet when that sword slashed down, he actually felt a trace of… fear.
Not fear of power, but instinctive alarm at “existence being erased.” The aura of the Darkness Sword resonated with the deepest “origin” in his body.
As if it would thoroughly strip him from the foundation of reality.
“I never expected! Even you! To ally with outer universes for power… I’m very disappointed in you! Kryptonian!” Darkseid waved his hand, tampering with the surrounding foundational laws, infinitely stretching the concept of “distance.” The apparent hundred meters between Clark and him actually spanned countless expanded universal scales.
At the same time, he laid down countless god-level traps like “energy reflection,” “concept reversal,” “probability collapse,” and more.
However, the Darkness Sword erupted with deeper darkness, ignoring all rule traps, greedily “devouring” everything ahead—space, time, laws, probability… all “concepts” pointed at by its tip, regardless of type, were forcibly treated as “food” and swallowed into the sword body, turning into pure nothing.
“I think the truth is quite the opposite.”
Clark’s speed barely slowed, “eating” a straight vacuum passage through that infinitely stretched path in the most barbaric way!
Darkseid could only hurriedly defend and dodge.
His moves became more frequent, more hasty.
This Dark King even summoned past versions of himself and future projections for a pincer attack, trying to interfere, but the Darkness Sword devoured “time” snacks without refusal.
He scattered whispers that could corrupt the mind, but Clark’s consciousness was now almost synchronized with the pure devouring “Instinct” of the Darkness Sword; those whispers were like pebbles thrown into a black hole, without even an echo.
“Today seems the perfect time to collect the debt you owe Earth!” Clark’s body erupted with unprecedented light in the darkness—that was solar energy “catalyzed” by the Darkness Sword, mixed with the eerie glow of death force. His speed, strength, and reactions reached an all-time peak in this moment.
“Despicable Kryptonian! Despicable! Despicable!”
Darkseid hastily raised his arm to block, Omega Power condensing into an indestructible shield on his arm. But the instant the Darkness Sword pierced the shield, it “melted” like ice and snow.
The Dark King awkwardly tried to continue dodging.
That elder Golden Superman, Kal-El, suddenly thrust both hands into the void beneath his feet. Countless golden chains formed purely from idealistic belief erupted from his palms, not shooting toward Darkseid but frantically weaving the surrounding space structure. Suddenly, the entire Lightless Dimension trembled violently.
“Bastard!”
The Dark Lord staggered, his attack interrupted and even solidly hitting himself. He looked in shock and anger at that Golden Superman manipulating the light.
All dimensional rifts were forcibly sealed, chaotic spacetime parameters briefly fixed. Darkseid’s form, about to tear through dimensions to evade, immediately stalled, as if trapped in solidified amber. Though this restraint lasted only a thousandth of a second before being burst by his overwhelming divine power, it was enough for light-speed combat.
Clark’s black sword edge broke through the Omega Ray, closing in! Ian’s father became a bolt of gold-and-black interwoven lightning, instantly approaching Darkseid.
The Darkness Sword stabbed straight at his chest!
The sword tip met no obstruction; because the Golden Superman had briefly hard-controlled Darkseid for Clark Kent, the Darkness Sword left a pitch-black wound on Darkseid’s raised arm.
That wound did not bleed or heal, instead continuously leaking faint black smoke outward, as if the soul was split, like maggots in the bones infiltrating to destroy Darkseid’s essence.
This of course would not succeed.
After all, Darkseid’s essence was at least at the six-dimensional level. It was just that Darkseid himself did not know this, so he panicked for a moment.
“Ah—!” Darkseid let out a dimension-shaking roar, feeling pain for the first time. Not physical pain, but the agony of divinity being defiled.
He could no longer maintain composure.
The tyrant’s dignity collapsed in this moment.
“I absolutely will not die by your hand!”
Darkseid decisively acted, his body’s vast divine power erupting wildly—not to attack, but forcibly “severing” the eroded part of his body along with large amounts of divine blood from his main body!
That severed part turned to flying ash in the air, vanishing. The Dark Lord glanced at the wound; though the gray-white erosion was temporarily halted, it continued slowly and relentlessly eroding him, steadily grinding away his power and sense of existence, bringing continuous, soul-gnawing agony.
This moment.
The Dark Lord knew he had encountered the unknown.
His cosmic-level knowledge reserves could not find a solution in short time. Continuing the fight, he might be “eaten” bit by bit by this sinister sword!
Without hesitation, Darkseid glared resentfully at that Kryptonian covered in black armor, abruptly turned, punched through the dimensional barrier behind him, then erupted with full power, Omega Rays bombarding indiscriminately like a rainstorm, forcibly blasting a passage from the Lightless Realm to the real Universe.
“Believe me, this is not the end!”
He roared, his figure rapidly retreating, his massive body unhesitatingly plunging into the chaotic Temporal Turbulence, vanishing, merging into that scarlet rift.
When it came to running away.
Darkseid’s skills were no less than anyone’s.
Even with the Darkness Sword’s “potential extraction,” Clark Kent could only manage one final slash at the rift where Darkseid disappeared.
It was unknown if it hit the target again.
Darkseid was a tough guy.
He didn’t even grunt, merely leaving behind resentful emotions as he thoroughly escaped this Lightless Dimension.
Then, the overwhelming darkness receded, leaving only that ravaged, riddled Lightless domain, and in the center, that black figure standing with sword in hand.
Clark Kent stood quietly there, the darkness on the sword writhing like a living thing, as if savoring the invincible taste it had just tasted.
At the massive hole torn in the Lightless Realm, the real Universe’s light poured in like a waterfall.
It dispelled billions of years of dead silence.
Dust danced in the light beam, like countless reborn elves rejoicing. Amid this gradually illuminated ruin, Clark Kent stood tall.
The Symbiote armor formed by the Darkness Sword, like living shadows, still covered his entire body, sharp edges flowing with ominous dark glow, the faceplate leaving only two bottomless dim slits, within which pre-Universe void seemed to rotate. He slowly turned his head, locking his deep gaze on the Golden Superman who had just steadied himself nearby.
“Snap out of it!”
The Golden Superman’s alarms blared in his mind.
He knew Kryptonian power too well and could even more acutely sense the terrifying devouring aura from that evil sword threatening his idealistic essence. The Clark before him felt unfamiliar and dangerous, like an ancient beast wearing Kryptonian skin. Especially those eyes, devoid of any “Clark Kent” warmth or resolve.
Only the Darkness Sword’s pure, hungry “devouring” Instinct.
No communication, not even a hint of hesitation. Golden light flashed around the Golden Superman—not attacking, but channeling all remaining power into acceleration and defense.
Suddenly, “boom.”
The Golden Superman became a brilliant golden meteor, charging out through the torn dimensional rift without looking back, performing a textbook tactical retreat.
Seeing the last “enemy” vanish at the rift’s end, the heart-chilling deep glow in Clark Kent’s eyes receded like the tide.
“Tch.”
Clark Kent curled his lip, dropping the act, then grabbed the Symbiote armor covering his chest with both hands and tore it apart to the sides like removing a tight sweater!
“Rip—”
That living armor capable of hard-blocking Darkseid’s attacks let out a near-mournful hiss, roughly torn from his body, turning into viscous black fluid that dripped back onto the Darkness Sword in his hand, quickly absorbed by the blade, finally restoring the sword’s cold, ancient metallic texture.
As if that all-devouring terror from before was just an illusion.
How could he possibly be bewitched by the Darkness Sword?
Clark Kent bent down to pick up the still-humming, discontentedly vibrating Gungnir from the ground, weighed it, then flashed away through the rift, leaving this collapsing Lightless Prison Cage.
……
Just returning to the original battlefield star domain now reduced to interstellar dust belt, Clark hadn’t even had time to take a theoretically non-existent breath of free air.
A voice full of disappointment smashed down on him.
“Cut the grass without uprooting, it grows again with the spring breeze! Father, your indecisiveness was so wrong; while Darkseid was wounded and fleeing, and that other shiny trouble slipped away, you should’ve chased to Apokolips with sword in hand, taking him and that broken chair out for good! Eliminate future threats!”
Ian stood with hands on hips, floating on a larger planetary fragment, criticizing with heartache, his expression more pained than when he discovered his second brother using a fleshlight without lube.
Hearing this, Clark rubbed his brow.
“Darkseid is not as simple as you think.” He had vaguely glimpsed Darkseid’s essence, which was why he hadn’t pursued victory earlier.
Of course.
Ian, who knew Darkseid’s essence even better, disagreed with his father’s statement.
“That’s you underestimating your son’s Super Intelligence!” Ian raised his chin proudly, snapping his fingers—though no sound carried in the cosmic vacuum, that smug vibe pierced space, “I have a plan! That can make Apokolips dark forever… uh, no, eternally unable to rise!”
“Completely resolve this universal abscess!”
His tone was firm.
“Oh?”
Clark raised an eyebrow, sensing inauspicious premonition. Whenever Ian showed this expression, it usually meant deploying that so-called Super Intelligence no one in the Justice League acknowledged.
Sure enough.
“This plan requires cooperation from you and Mother!”
Ian held up two fingers, eyes burning, “Just fake divorce with Mother! No need to split property—the Kryptonian Spaceship goes to you, farm and I go to Mother.”
“Then, you aggressively pursue—note, fake pursue, not seriously making it seem like you’ve moved on, to create an illusion.”
“Yeah, the illusion of you being obsessed with new love.”
“Think about it, that old coin Darkseid, after such a big loss, definitely wants revenge! But he can’t beat you now with the Darkness Sword, so what? He’ll target your weakness! What’s the weakest? Of course your true love; with his insidious nature, he won’t resist.”
“We just need to trick Darkseid into going to Earth to kidnap a minor police station clerk! That clerk will bring true catastrophe upon Darkseid.”
“Don’t worry, you pursue with Superman’s identity, ignore Clark Kent matters.” Ian excelled at such clever schemes; however, hearing Ian’s “plan,” Clark picked up the tape floating in space. It was leftovers from when Ian helped Injustice Superman ease labor pains earlier.
“Huh? Father, what are you doing? Where’s the flaw in this plan? We can refine it… Huh?! Mmmph!” Ian’s words were ruthlessly interrupted. Clark used Super Speed to close in instantly, precisely slapping the wide tape “smack” over Ian’s mouth.
Sealed tight, not even a seam left.
The world（Universe） was quiet.
Clark let out a long breath, feeling his ears instantly purified.
He was about to lecture his son on watching less messy Earth soap opera dramas when his gaze inadvertently caught the scene nearby.
Injustice Superman had awakened, but he didn’t rise or try to repair his body. He lay quietly on his back on the cold star wreckage, staring blankly at the shattered starry sky above, two clear tear tracks sliding from his eye corners, dripping into his sideburns, instantly freezing into tiny Ice Crystals in the absolute zero environment.
His appearance radiated profound, philosophical despair and sorrow.
“What’s this now? What did you do to him?” Clark turned to look at Injustice Superman, who seemed awake but silently weeping nearby.
【He has been moved by me, repenting his sins, gazing at the stars, pondering the meaning of life and harmony of the Universe. These are tears after soul purification.】
Ian blinked.
With his most powerful mouth temporarily sealed, he immediately crouched, using his finger to write a line of bold characters stroke by stroke on the cosmic dust-covered ground.
“？？？？？”
Clark looked at the words, more black lines on his forehead.
“Speak, human, words!”
Father speechlessly covered his forehead. Ian innocently pointed at his mouth sealed tight with tape, indicating his human mouth was sealed so he couldn’t speak human words.
“…” Clark looked at his son’s innocent yet punchable expression, finger hovering mid-air, hesitating whether to unseal Ian’s “main body.”
The Universe’s safety seemed less tricky than this decision.
Just as his fingertip nearly touched the tape edge—
“Buzz—buzz buzz—”
The charred, deformed black box in Ian’s pocket suddenly vibrated violently, its screen stubbornly lighting up, flashing a string of extremely eerie numbers.
#666-013-HELL#.
Ian’s eyes widened instantly.
His uniform abdomen writhed unnaturally, skin and fabric twisting and deforming, quickly outlining a crooked “mimetic mouth” without nose, only lips and teeth.
“Holy shit! Uncle Bruce is awesome! He’s risen from the dead! Calling me from Hell with a jailbreak phone!” That belly mouth suddenly gaped wide.
Emitting an exclamation identical to Ian’s but with eerie reverb. The mimetic mouth opening and closing made Ian’s father feel his sanity dropping wildly.
“？？？？？？”
Clark really struggled to comment; why could a child brought by God and Archangel, raised by him and Lois, veer into such a sinister art style.
