Echoes of Apokolips

The Batcave.

This was Bruce Wayne's sanctuary, the crystallization of technology and will. Faint streams of water ran down the cold rock walls, mingling with the low hum of the supercomputer deep within the cave—the Batcomputer—to create a unique stillness that belonged only to this place.

Bruce had already removed the heavy Arkham Knight Armor. Wearing only a black tactical compression vest, he revealed muscle lines as perfect as a Greek sculpture, packed with explosive power. He stood before a massive holographic console, utterly focused.

Before him, the energy rifle seized from Blüdhaven was held suspended by several precision mechanical arms as it underwent non-invasive scanning and disassembly. Streams of blue data cascaded rapidly across the holographic screens surrounding him.

"Dick, how's the analysis going?" Bruce asked without looking up.

Dick's slightly weary yet still excited voice came through the communicator. "It's unbelievable, Bruce. This thing's energy core is a crystal structure I've never seen before. Its energy density is incredibly high, and... incredibly stable. Its material science is at least fifty years ahead of anything Earth currently has!"

"More than fifty years." Bruce's voice was low and certain. His fingers swept rapidly across the holographic screen, pulling up set after set of complex energy spectra and material structure models.

"The way it conducts energy doesn't conform to any physical law we know. Some of the high-frequency particles it generates when activated even cause extremely faint but observable distortions in space itself at the microscopic level. This isn't Earth's technology. It may not even be conventional technology from our dimension."

His supercomputer-like mind raced, comparing, restructuring, and deducing massive amounts of data. Countless possibilities flashed through his thoughts before being ruled out one by one.

"This design philosophy—aggressive, squeezing energy efficiency to the absolute limit, yet structurally crude and violent... I feel like I've seen it somewhere before."

Just then, the long-absent system notification rang out in his mind.

[ Ding! Detected that the host is analyzing an unknown high-dimensional technological artifact... Matching data... ]

[ Match successful! The prototype of this technological artifact is: Apokolips Third-Generation Standard Infantry Energy Gun (degraded version). ]

[ Technological source: New Gods ]

[ Note: Apokolips is a war planet ruled by the tyrant Darkseid. Its technological level far surpasses that of most civilizations in the universe. The core of this technology lies in the reverse application of fragments of the "Anti-Life Equation," and its essence is filled with destruction and enslavement. ]

Apokolips! Darkseid!

The instant those names appeared in Bruce's mind, every muscle in his body tensed involuntarily!

As a veteran American comic fan in his previous life, he knew better than anyone in this world exactly what despair and terror the name "Darkseid" represented! He was an ultimate cosmic tyrant, one capable of driving the entire Justice League into a brutal struggle—or even wiping them out!

"So that's it... Luthor, you madman. You're actually making deals with Apokolips?!"

Bruce's expression instantly turned grave. He had originally thought this was merely a high-level, Earthbound business war between himself and Luthor, centered around Superman. But the appearance of Apokolips technology had immediately raised the danger level of this contest to a cosmic scale!

"Alfred," he immediately ordered through the internal comms, "activate the highest-level firewall protocol, 'Hellbat.' Temporarily sever every physical and network connection between the Batcave and the outside world. At the same time, classify all data regarding this gun as top secret and encrypt it three times over!"

"At once, sir." Alfred's voice came immediately, without the slightest hesitation.

Bruce stared at the gun, his gaze as cold as an abyss.

"Luthor's goal is far more than simply defeating Superman. He's trying to gain control of a power he cannot possibly control. He thinks he's using Apokolips, but in the eyes of an entity like Darkseid, he doesn't even qualify as a pawn. At most, he's... a somewhat interesting petri dish."

He made his decision at once.

"We can't keep wasting time with him in Blüdhaven. We have to sever his connection to Apokolips immediately—and find out the scale and terms of their dealings!"

Meanwhile, at LexCorp headquarters in Metropolis.

In the top-floor office, which resembled a futuristic fortress, Lex Luthor stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the prosperous, brightly lit city that belonged to him.

The usual vigor and confidence had vanished from his face, replaced by a dark, deeply displeased expression.

"Bruce... Wayne..."

He forced the name through clenched teeth as if he wanted to chew it to pieces. The priceless crystal glass in his hand creaked beneath his grip.

"A moronic playboy who only knows how to coast on his family fortune, sleep with starlets, and throw parties actually dared to ruin my plans?!"

Just moments ago, his secretary had reported the latest developments in Blüdhaven.

Wayne Enterprises' no-expense-spared, practically insane financial offensive had turned all of his commercial arrangements into a joke. Projects he had planned to acquire for a few hundred million dollars had been forcibly driven up into the billions, and the other side was still increasing its bids, as though money was not money at all, merely a string of numbers.

What enraged him even more was that the gang forces he had painstakingly cultivated to sow chaos in the underworld had been wiped out overnight by Batman and Nightwing working together! Along with them, a batch of "new toys" he had worked so hard to obtain from the "supplier" had also fallen entirely into their hands.

"A bunch of useless trash!" Luthor violently smashed the glass in his hand against the floor, and it instantly shattered into pieces.

In the shadows behind him, a woman in a professional suit with a stunning figure and an expression as cold as ice—his personal assistant and bodyguard, Mercy Graves—did not so much as blink.

"Boss, according to our intelligence, Batman seems very interested in that batch of weapons. Could Wayne Enterprises... have some kind of connection to Batman?" Mercy analyzed calmly.

"A connection?" Luthor sneered, his eyes full of contempt. "What could that Gotham bumpkin possibly have in his head besides money and women? He probably heard there was profit to be made in Blüdhaven, then charged in with his filthy cash, hoping to snatch a piece of meat from my mouth. Typical idiotic rich-kid thinking."

Though he spoke that way, a hint of vigilance arose in Luthor's heart.

"Batman... that rat hiding in the shadows is indeed more troublesome than I expected. He actually managed to take out an entire squad of my armed personnel without a scratch... His equipment and tactics are far beyond those of ordinary vigilantes."

He walked to his desk and pressed a button.

"Inform our people in Blüdhaven that all plans are suspended. Erase every trace connected to the 'supplier.' Leave nothing behind. As for those worthless gangs, let them fend for themselves."

"Everything suspended?" Mercy seemed somewhat surprised. "Boss, our initial investment..."

"That investment is insignificant compared to my ultimate goal." A mad, obsessive light flickered in Luthor's eyes. "That 'god' in the blue tights is my ultimate target. I can't expose my real trump card over this minor trouble in Blüdhaven."

He looked out the window, as if he could see the red cape soaring through the sky.

"Since Wayne wants to play, let him play by himself in that Blüdhaven quagmire. What kind of waves can a playboy possibly make? As for that boy scout and his little bird... once I've dealt with that 'alien,' I'll have plenty of time to clean them up."

He paused, and a cruel smile curled across his lips.

"Besides, I'd really like to see the look on Bruce Wayne's face when Wayne Enterprises pours tens of billions into that hopeless city and loses every last cent."

Luthor waved a hand, signaling Mercy to leave. He returned to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the city beneath his feet, laid out like an intricate model, his eyes filled with the desire to control everything.

He did not know that his decision to "withdraw" was exactly what Bruce wanted. Nor did he know that the "playboy" he so despised was now planning to visit Luthor personally on his home turf.