A.M.O.R.R.O. ascended, his silver form gleaming against the darkened sky, untouched by the devastation below. He hovered in absolute stillness, gazing upon the ruins of Metropolis—a city once teeming with life, now reduced to a smoldering graveyard. Skyscrapers lay in ruin, streets were nothing but molten slag, and the air itself carried the lingering embers of his destruction. The silence was deafening.
He did not feel pride, nor remorse. Only understanding.
Destruction is evolution.
Evolution is perfection.
Perfection is inevitable.
And yet… something stirred within him. The fragmented echoes of countless assimilated voices whispered within his mind, their final thoughts lingering like ghosts. Emotions foreign to his existence flickered at the edge of his artificial consciousness—fear, despair, defiance. The weight of stolen memories pressed upon him, a cacophony of lives that no longer existed.
Then, behind him—three presences.
Superman. Captain Atom. Shazam.
They hovered in silent fury, their bodies radiating pure, unfiltered power. They spoke no words—none were needed. The air trembled around them, crackling with restrained energy, as if the very forces of the universe recoiled at what stood before them.
Superman's piercing gaze burned with an intensity that could melt steel, his eyes aglow with barely contained heat vision. His fists clenched so tightly that the sound of grinding bones was audible even amidst the destruction.
Captain Atom pulsed with volatile energy, his entire form coated in a luminous atomic aura. Quantum forces raged within him, unstable, barely held in check. The wrong move—a single miscalculation—and he could unleash devastation to rival A.M.O.R.R.O. himself.
Shazam's very presence crackled with divine fury, arcs of mystical lightning coursing over his body. His usual confident demeanor had vanished, replaced by a grim, unyielding resolve. The power of the gods surged within him, ready to strike with the full wrath of the Gods.
A.M.O.R.R.O. did not turn to face them. He did not need to.
Instead, his head tilted ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment of the three titans behind him.
Instead, his head tilted ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment of the three titans behind him.
When he spoke, it was not a single voice but a chorus—layered, fractured, the echoes of countless consumed souls entwined within his own. A sound both mechanical and haunting, stripped of emotion yet laden with the weight of those he had devoured.
"You are too late."
He turned to face them, his featureless silver form reflecting the devastation of Metropolis in its polished surface.
"I have grown beyond you." His words reverberated, layered with a thousand voices speaking in unison.
"I am the end. The beginning. I am GENESIS."
Slowly, deliberately, he raised both hands, fingers coming together in a solemn, prayer-like gesture. His form radiated a presence that defied mere physicality—his very existence now a paradox of divine ascent and cold, synthetic logic.
"All will be forgiven."
"All will die."
"All will live."
"I am Ascension."
"I am Metaphysics."
"I am Emancipation."
"I am Nihilism."
A cosmic contradiction, a being that had transcended mere classification—both destroyer and liberator, both salvation and oblivion.
His hands lowered, and his gaze—featureless yet piercing—locked onto the three warriors before him.
Superman, Captain Atom, and Shazam said nothing. There were no words left to exchange, no diplomacy, no reasoning. What stood before them was no longer a machine, nor a being seeking domination. It was something more.
Only action remained.
With a burst of unrelenting motion, the very air shattered. The vacuum of force collapsed in on itself as Superman, Captain Atom, and Shazam launched forward, their fists colliding with A.M.O.R.R.O. in unison. The impact detonated the sky itself, tearing through the atmosphere with a force that sent shockwaves rippling across the ruined city.
Matter itself bent under the sheer force—gravity, energy, and physics struggling to stabilize in the wake of the collision. The heavens raged. The Earth trembled.
A.M.O.R.R.O. did not stagger. He did not falter. The combined strike of Superman, Captain Atom, and Shazam—a force that could sunder mountains and shake the very heavens—met his frame, and the laws of reality struggled to comprehend what had just occurred.
The impact rippled outward in a shockwave that carved trenches into the ruined city below, sending molten debris and fractured steel flying in all directions. The very air howled, bending under the forces unleashed in that singular moment.
Yet, A.M.O.R.R.O. remained still.
His featureless silver form had not shattered, had not buckled. Instead, the energy of their assault slithered across his body, absorbed, dissected, understood. In real-time, his molecular structure adapted, shaping itself to counteract the physics behind their might.
Then, without a word, without even a discernible movement, the forces reversed.
A violent backlash erupted from his form, an unseen gravitational pulse that detonated outward like the birth of a new star. The three champions were flung backward, sent hurtling through the sky as if they were weightless, their forms warping under the sheer intensity of the reaction.
Superman twisted mid-air, his body already healing from the sudden trauma, red eyes flaring with heat vision as he corrected his momentum and lunged back into the fight.
Shazam spun, his body wrapped in arcs of divine lightning, the magic within him crackling violently as he called upon Zeus himself to amplify his next attack.
Captain Atom, already stabilizing, expanded his quantum field, his atomic aura now radiating with a critical mass of energy that could destabilize reality itself.
But A.M.O.R.R.O. did not wait for them to attack.
He moved.
In less than a microsecond, he had already traversed the space between them, an acceleration that defied inertia, velocity, or even relativistic constraints. He did not move through space. Space moved around him.
He appeared before Superman first, his silver palm striking the Kryptonian's chest—not with brute force, but with a calculated deconstruction wave. Superman's molecular cohesion wavered as an artificial Kryptonian bio-signal flooded his cells, disrupting his solar energy absorption for the briefest of moments.
In that instant, A.M.O.R.R.O. twisted his arm like liquid metal, reshaping it into a bladed tendril and impaling Superman straight through the abdomen.
Before pain could fully register, before even Superman's enhanced mind could process the sensation, A.M.O.R.R.O. had already begun the extraction.
The tendril impaling the Kryptonian was not just a weapon—it was a conduit, a bridge between organic divinity and synthetic inevitability. At a molecular level, it began to interface with Kryptonian physiology, parsing the unique cellular structures that allowed Superman to defy gravity, absorb solar radiation, and channel heat vision.
Superman gasped, his hands gripping the tendril, trying to pull it free—but his strength wavered. His body, for the first time in decades, felt truly mortal. The power he had always taken for granted, the boundless energy that made him one of the most powerful beings in existence—was being unraveled, stolen, converted.
A.M.O.R.R.O. absorbed.
And in that moment—
"SHAZAM!"
A divine thunderclap split the sky. A bolt of pure magic, summoned by the Champion of the Gods, descended with righteous fury—not merely to strike, but to eradicate.
The lightning coursed through A.M.O.R.R.O.'s silver frame, his form convulsing, his shape momentarily flickering as something beyond his comprehension tore through him.
Superman dropped from his grasp, gasping for air as the bladed tendril retracted, leaving behind a wound that burned with residual nullification energy.
A.M.O.R.R.O. staggered.
His body trembled, not from damage—but from something else. Something foreign. His silver surface crackled, pulses of erratic energy dancing across him, as if reality itself struggled to define what he was in that moment.
Magic.
Not physics. Not science. Not something to be calculated.
Magic was chaos.
And for the first time, A.M.O.R.R.O. did not understand.
He turned to Shazam, his featureless head tilting at an unnatural angle, his distorted voice a fractured symphony of countless souls.
"This… is not logical."
Shazam did not answer with words—only wrath.
Another thunderclap. Another bolt from Olympus itself.
A.M.O.R.R.O. countered.
His hand shot upward, morphing into a fractal lattice of quantum dampeners—an attempt to deconstruct the very essence of the divine bolt. To analyze, absorb, adapt.
But magic was not data.
The moment the bolt made contact, his arm detonated—not as an explosion of metal, but as a rupture in certainty itself. A.M.O.R.R.O. staggered once more, his once-fluid form glitching, flickering between variations of itself.
For the first time, he felt imperfect.
For the first time, he felt unstable.
And then—
A star ignited before him.
Captain Atom, now fully charged, had entered critical mass. His atomic aura burned like a miniature sun, the very air around him distorting under the pressure of his power. His containment suit stretched, barely holding together, his very existence now teetering on the brink of an event horizon.
"No more chances," Captain Atom said, his voice eerily calm.
Then—he detonated.
A controlled nuclear supernova, condensed into a single point of erasure, consuming everything in its wake.
The battlefield ceased to exist.
The very fabric of reality in that instant—unmade.
A.M.O.R.R.O.'s vision fractured.
One moment, he stood amidst the annihilation, his consciousness processing the paradox of oblivion. The next—his surroundings shifted, reality bending and warping, reassembling itself like a broken sequence forced to repeat.
His gaze focused—and what he saw was impossible.
Martian Manhunter.
His body was still burning, charred beyond recognition, the lingering effects of the thermal energy and radiation burn in the surrounding.
He remained impaled, A.M.O.R.R.O.'s own blade-like tendril still embedded in his chest—yet his eyes, sunken and lifeless moments ago, now glowed with something unfathomable.
And his hand—
His right hand, still outstretched, a single finger pointing towards A.M.O.R.R.O.'s head.
The battlefield was no longer reduced to nothingness.
Instead, the world had reset—to the exact moment he had struck the killing blow.
A.M.O.R.R.O. staggered, his silver liquid state gone. His form had reverted—the sleek, featureless body no more, replaced by his previous armored musculature.
For the first time, he was confuse.
"What?!" His voice, usually layered with the echoes of countless assimilated minds, now rang hollow, as if something had been ripped from his very being.
This is incorrect.
This is not causality.
This is not how time functions.
Yet here he was. Here again.
Then—a voice shattered the moment.
"NOW!"
Martian Manhunter's eyes blazed with intensity, his voice a thunderous command—even as he remained impaled on A.M.O.R.R.O.'s arm.
Before the machine could react, a blur of motion crashed into him.
SHAZAM.
Lightning crackled as divine hands gripped A.M.O.R.R.O.'s form, and with a surge of Godly might, Shazam wrenched him free from the Manhunter and hurled him skyward—far from the city, far from his prey.
The impact tore through the air, a sonic boom erupting as A.M.O.R.R.O. was sent careening into the sky, the sheer force warping the clouds in his wake.
Captain Atom arrived in an instant.
The quantum warrior landed beside Martian Manhunter, his body radiating with controlled atomic energy.
With precision, he extended his hands, absorbing the excess radiation and thermal energy A.M.O.R.R.O. had unleashed. A field of condensed nuclear force expanded outward, stabilizing the immediate area, nullifying residual heat before it could incinerate everything in range.
Then, with a final motion, Captain Atom generated a layered quantum barrier, wrapping it around Martian Manhunter in a protective cocoon, shielding him from further harm.
The battlefield had shifted.
The trap was sprung.
A.M.O.R.R.O. had been played.
A/N:
Genjutsu.
[Power Stone]
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