The sky had changed.
The sun still shone over Earth, but it was outnumbered. Great rifts tore across the stars like veins of apocalypse, each glowing crimson-black with Apokoliptian energy. War machines drifted in low orbit. Omega Signals crackled through the upper atmosphere like thunder without clouds.
And then—
They came.
From Boom Tubes, from rips in the Bleed, from mirrored dimensions and forgotten timelines, heroes stepped forward. Some shimmered with alien tech. Others glowed with divine magic. Each one bore the mark of their Earth, their choice to stand.
A thousand worlds.
One stand.
The Multiversal Coalition
On a plain outside the ruins of Washington, D.C., a massive staging ground had been constructed—part conjured, part built, part summoned by Green Lantern constructs. Banners fluttered from timelines. Magics pulsed through the air.
In the center stood the Prime Earth League:
Superman, cape tattered, eyes burning with resolve.
Wonder Woman, blood on her blade, faith in her heart.
Batman, silent beside a holographic war map.
Zatanna, exhaustion behind her eyes, defiance in every breath.
And Raga, golden-eyed, the Wheel behind him calm but turning slowly.
They stood now before the gathering of Earths.
Val-Zod of Earth-2 nodded. "If we fall, we fall together."
President Superman of Earth-23 offered his hand. "We didn't come to die. We came to win."
Even Red Son Superman, from a world of iron and revolution, had crossed dimensions to fight beside them. "Darkseid cannot control hope. Not here."
Raga stepped forward, voice like calm thunder.
"Darkseid doesn't want conquest. He wants collapse. He wants all stories to end—except his."
The crowd fell silent.
"He made me to be the key. And now, I will be the lock."
A Moment Before Oblivion
As the final battle neared, the heroes returned to their shelters, their bunkers, their private corners of reflection.
But Raga stood alone beneath a dead tree overlooking the staging field, watching as the armies prepared.
That was when Death came again.
No words.
Just presence.
She walked beside him, barefoot across dust, hands behind her back.
"You've changed," she said.
"I chose to," he replied.
They sat in the dry grass.
"I was afraid of you once," Raga admitted.
"I remember."
"But now I think… you're not the end. You're the gate."
She smiled faintly. "I am the soft truth at the end of noise. The question no one wants to ask. The only thing gods and mortals both must bow to."
He turned toward her. "Will you take me when this ends?"
She met his gaze. "If you die—yes. But not because you were made to. Only if you choose it."
Raga's chest tightened. "And if I survive?"
"Then we'll meet again. But not for a long time."
She leaned forward and touched his face.
"You were meant to be a weapon," she whispered. "And instead, you became a man."
Then she was gone.
The Spark of Betrayal
Night fell. The battlefield buzzed with strategy, nervous chatter, and last rites.
Inside the command tent, Batman, Superman, Zatanna, and Raga studied the battle map. Reinforcements were arriving from every edge of the multiverse. They would only get one shot.
Then the lights flickered.
A strange hum passed through the walls.
Zatanna turned. "That's not magical interference—"
And the tent exploded.
Not from outside.
From within.
A blast of energy sent everyone sprawling. Raga rolled instinctively, the Wheel shielding him from the worst. Smoke filled the air. The war table was gone.
Through the smoke stepped a figure.
Cloaked in red.
Eyes glowing blue.
Captain Atom.
But not the one from Prime Earth.
This was a fractured Captain Atom, from a timeline where Apokolips had already won.
"Darkseid always plays the long game," Atom said coldly. "You never questioned how he was watching. Listening. Predicting."
Superman staggered up, blood running from his lip. "You—you're the mole?"
"I'm not a traitor," Atom said. "I'm a survivor. I saw my world burn. Darkseid rebuilt it. Gave it purpose."
Batman reached for a sonic pulse grenade—but Atom waved his hand, and gravity twisted. "Don't bother, Bat."
Zatanna began a binding spell—but Raga stepped forward.
"No more words," he said.
Atom's expression flickered. "You don't get it. You're the doorway, Raga. Once Darkseid controls you—he wins. This alliance? This army? It's meaningless. He's already written the last chapter."
Raga's wheel spun once.
"I write my own chapters."
Then he lunged.
Clash of Fates
The two titans collided—Raga vs. Atom—cosmic force against infinite adaptation.
Atom unleashed bursts of quantum rupture, tearing the air around them. But with every strike, Raga evolved—his skin glowing with time-stabilizing energy, the Wheel shifting in rhythm with each blast.
Atom soared into the sky and hurled a full singularity down.
Raga raised both arms—and split the singularity apart.
Even Superman stared.
The Wheel had adapted… to collapse itself.
Raga rose, energy flaring from his limbs.
"You were a hero once," he said.
"I am one," Atom snarled.
Raga's eyes dimmed with sorrow.
"Then you died long before this war."
He struck once.
Atom fell.
Broken, but alive.
The Warning
Hours later, after the smoke cleared, Raga stood with Zatanna atop the battlements.
"He said I was the doorway," Raga murmured.
Zatanna nodded. "That means there's something more. Darkseid doesn't just want you—he wants to open you. Use you."
He clenched his fists.
"Then I won't give him the key."
Zatanna leaned into his side, silent.
Overhead, the sky turned red again.
And from the heavens came a sound that shook every soul.
The final Boom Tube was opening.
Not one.
But many.
And through them… came Darkseid's Final Host.