The world held its breath.
For a moment, after the first wave of Darkseid's assault was repelled, everything was still. Cities burned. The air tasted like ash. Families cowered in silence beneath flickering emergency broadcasts.
But the war was not over. It had merely paused.
And now… it began in earnest.
The Defense of Earth
Inside the Watchtower, every screen glowed red with data. Orbiting above the atmosphere, it had become Earth's brain—its last bastion of control.
Batman stood at the central console, eyes locked on the massive holographic display of Earth. Red zones blinked where Apokoliptian presence had been detected.
"Status?" he asked.
"Atlantis has sealed off its borders," said Aquaman, blood on his trident. "But they're willing to open access points for coordinated assault."
"Themyscira is fully mobilized," Wonder Woman added. "But they will not fight under man's command. They will stand with me."
"Green Lantern Corps has picked up movement around New Genesis," said John Stewart, grim. "Highfather's refusing to interfere—for now."
"We need more," Superman said. "We need allies beyond Earth."
Batman turned slowly toward him. "Then we send the call."
To the multiverse.
In the Eye of the Storm
Meanwhile, far from the Watchtower, Raga stood alone atop a plateau in Death Valley. His cloak fluttered in the wind. The wheel on his back spun slowly, like a storm held at bay.
Here, the veil between worlds was thin.
And through it, they came.
First, a whisper of shadow and silk. A man walked out from the sunlight—casually handsome, too perfect to be real. His eyes were stars held still.
Lucifer Morningstar.
"You've stirred quite a bit of divine gossip," he said, hands in pockets. "Some call you heretic. Others, evolution."
Raga turned slightly. "You are not from Apokolips."
"No," Lucifer said, smirking. "I quit that whole divine hierarchy millennia ago. But I do enjoy a good rebellion. Especially when it challenges the very narrative threads of destiny."
"I didn't choose this," Raga replied. "But I choose what I become."
Lucifer's smirk deepened. "Very poetic. Very dangerous."
Behind him, the air shifted again—this time slower, heavier.
A tall figure in white robes and a hood approached. In his hands, a massive book chained shut.
Destiny of the Endless.
"You are not written," he said, voice without inflection. "Your path does not lie in my book. This is… rare."
Lucifer laughed. "That's the understatement of the millennium."
Raga met Destiny's gaze. "So I am a problem."
"No," said another voice—gentle, warm.
Death stepped beside them. The light around her dimmed the desert sun. "You are possibility. And that is the only thing more frightening to the old gods than death itself."
Another ripple passed over the plateau.
This time it carried fire.
And judgment.
The Spectre appeared—torn between angel and fury, his cloak howling in the wind. His eyes glowed with divine wrath.
"Raga," he intoned, "you break the scales. You defy consequence."
Raga stood his ground. "I survived."
"That is not always justice."
Death stepped between them. "He is not yours to condemn."
Spectre snarled, then faded like smoke. But the warning remained in the air.
Lucifer gave a mock bow. "The gods are watching, dear Raga. Which makes you far more dangerous than Darkseid ever planned."
Raga looked toward the horizon.
"Then I need to be ready."
A Call Across Realms
Back in the Watchtower, a circle of fire flared in the meeting chamber. Zatanna emerged from it, holding a glowing glyph of invocation.
"He's spoken with the higher powers," she said. "And they listened."
"Then it's time," Batman said. "Activate the beacon."
Superman nodded and pressed his hand into the console.
A beam of pure white light erupted from the Watchtower's spire—not a signal to Earth, but beyond it.
A call to other worlds. Other Earths.
To the Justice League of Earth-2.
To Val-Zod, the Superman of Earth-23.
To the world of Constantine's Chaos League.
To Earths where magic ruled, where technology prevailed, where the stars burned different colors.
And they heard it.
In the deep corners of the multiverse, allies stirred.
A dark-haired sorceress with a white mask stepped from a tomb of mirrors—Circe, reborn in mercy.
A kingdom of clockwork gears responded with its robotic Justice League, ready for one final stand.
From deep within the Bleed, a fractured version of Captain Atom opened his eyes and said, "About time."
Even Phantom Stranger, long silent, turned toward Earth.
And somewhere, cloaked in time's fog, a red-and-gold speedster whispered, "Let's try again."
Preparing for War
As the Earth prepared for annihilation, Raga returned to the Watchtower.
He stood among the League, the wheel behind him now spinning not from defense—but momentum.
"I've met gods," he said, voice steady. "They fear what they can't predict."
"And you are impossible," Wonder Woman said softly.
"No," Raga corrected. "I am free."
Zatanna smiled, tired but proud.
Superman extended his hand.
"Then let's show Darkseid what free can do."
Raga accepted it.
And the League turned toward war.