The next day, after finishing his usual hero duties, Barry Allen decided to swing by the bakery he had heard so much about.
"Welcome, dear customer!"
Barry froze in place, momentarily taken aback by the voice that greeted him—a smooth, inviting tone that carried a warmth he didn't expect.
He looked up, eyes falling on the figure behind the counter.
Silvery blue hair framed delicate features, and a pair of warm, expressive eyes met his.
Hair colors like blue or violet usually looks weird on other people because of how unrealistic it looks. But this one is... Different.
Rimuru.
"Uh… hey, err im barry.. " Barry managed, his voice faltering slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, heard a lot about this place… people said the bread is amazing, and, um…" He trailed off, struggling to find the right words as his gaze lingered.
Rimuru chuckled, clearly amused by Barry's flustered demeanor. "And the owner?" he teased lightly, adjusting his apron.
Barry felt his face heat up. "Well, yeah… I mean… you're definitely, uh, impressive too."
The baker's smile widened, a playful glint in his eye. "Thanks. I try my best. What can I get for you today?"
Barry cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. "Right, uh, I'll take your best cinnamon rolls. Heard they're out of this world."
"You've got good taste," Rimuru said, turning to retrieve a tray of golden-brown cinnamon rolls from the display case.
Each one was perfectly coiled, glistening under the light with sugary glaze. "Here you go—fresh from the oven."
Barry reached for one, the warm pastry almost too tempting to resist.
He took a bite, and his eyes widened as the rich, spiced flavor hit him. "Wow," he muttered through a mouthful of bread. "This is incredible!"
Rimuru leaned on the counter, watching Barry's reaction with a satisfied smile. "Glad to hear it. I'd say the cinnamon rolls are my specialty, but honestly, I think my croissants might give them a run for their money."
Barry paused mid-bite, his curiosity piqued. "Croissants, huh? I'll have to try those next time."
"Next time?" Rimuru raised a brow, smirking and expecting.
This wasn't the first time he heard this phrase.
"Oh, definitely," Barry said with a grin, already planning his return. "You've got a customer for life after this."
Rimuru's expression softened, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. "I appreciate that... Really."
Barry finished the cinnamon roll, savoring the last bite before glancing around the bakery.
The place had a cozy, inviting atmosphere—warm lighting, rustic decor, and the faint hum of soft music playing in the background.
"Well," Barry said, stepping toward the door. "Thanks for the amazing pastry… Rimuru, right?"
"That's me," Rimuru replied with a wave. "Come back anytime, Barry."
Barry stopped in his tracks, blinking in surprise. "Wait, how'd you know my name?"
Rimuru raised an eyebrow, confused. "you just introduced yourself when you entered.. "
Barry laughing softly as he pushed open the door. "I did?.. "
"Take care!" Rimuru called after him.
As Barry walked back to his apartment, the taste of cinnamon still lingered on his tongue, and his thoughts kept drifting back to the ethereal baker.
There was something about Rimuru—something that felt almost otherworldly.
Whatever it was, Barry knew one thing for sure, this wasn't going to be his last visit to that bakery.
"Such a strange guy," Rimuru muttered, watching Barry disappear down the street.
He sighed, leaning against the counter. The praise lingered in his mind, leaving a bitter taste.
Turning to a small painting on the wall, his borrowed face stared back at him—a soft reminder of his deceased friend.
Their time together had been brief, but Rimuru still missed her. "You'd probably laugh if you saw me now," he said quietly, brushing a finger against the frame. "Running a bakery, wearing your face."
The sun set, and Rimuru flipped the sign to Closed.
As the streets fell silent, he locked the door and leaned against it for a moment, staring at the stars.
"Another day done," he murmured, pushing the thoughts away. With one last glance at the darkened street, he headed upstairs, ready to rest and face whatever tomorrow brought.
In the depths of Apokolips, Darkseid's molten throne room radiated with a menacing glow.
The fires of the hellish planet crackled as if alive, feeding on the malevolence that permeated the air.
Darkseid, the tyrant of the universe, sat with his fingers steepled, his crimson eyes piercing through the shadowed chamber.
Desaad stood by his side, his crooked figure barely moving as he recounted the latest intelligence.
"My lord, our scouts have confirmed the location of a Kryptonian residing on Earth. A survivor of the doomed planet. Additionally..."
He hesitated, glancing at Darkseid cautiously, "There are whispers that... she may also be there."
Darkseid's eyes flared brighter at the mention.
His voice, cold and resolute, cut through the silence. "Kal-El... The last son of Krypton. His presence confirms Earth's significance. He will kneel, or he will die."
He rose from his throne, his towering form casting a shadow that consumed even his loyal servants. This was not merely a conquest of another planet. It is personal.
Granny Goodness, ever-devoted, stepped forward. "The search for your daughter has been long and arduous, great lord. If Earth holds the key to her whereabouts, then it shall burn for daring to keep her from you."
Darkseid's expression remained unreadable, but his words carried the weight of his unyielding will.
"She has eluded me for too long. If Earth harbors her, I will find her. If she resists..."
His gaze turned fiery, his Omega Beams barely restrained. "Then even her blood will not absolve her of defiance."
Desaad shifted nervously but pressed on. "And Kal-El, my lord? The Kryptonian may prove... troublesome."
Darkseid turned his gaze toward the swirling void of a Boom Tube portal, the gateway to his invasions. "Kal-El will be brought before me. His strength is needed for my apokolips, his defiance will serve only as an example. Both he and my daughter will kneel at my feet. Their destinies are tied to Apokolips."
The parademons around the room let out guttural roars of approval, their wings beating with anticipation of conquest.
Darkseid raised his hand, the fires of Apokolips roaring in unison with his will.
"Prepare the armada," he commanded. "Earth will fall not only under my heel but as the stage for my family's reunion... "
As the Boom Tube flickered to life, the dark ruler stepped forward, his silhouette engulfed by the blinding light.
His voice, echoing with finality, carried a chilling promise.
"The universe shall be reminded again why. I.AM.ABSOLUTE"