The Ultimate Showdown: Facing Superman Again!

Time seemed to stretch without end.

Two fists, each representing the pinnacle of Kryptonian blood, collided in the Watchtower's transport room.

There was no earth-shattering explosion.

There was not even a sound.

From where the fists met, a visible ring of pure white energy spread outward like a silent tide.

Space warped in its wake.

The transport room's walls, forged from a special alloy, rippled like water struck by a stone. Countless fine cracks appeared and vanished across their surfaces.

Diana and the others at the doorway felt an irresistible force rush toward them, as though the weight of the entire universe had fallen on their shoulders.

Green Lantern and Cyborg, the less powerful of the group, were hurled backward and slammed into the far wall.

Diana and Barry forced themselves to stay on their feet, but all color had drained from their faces. Their eyes held nothing but horror.

They stared at the center of the storm.

Superman—Clark Kent, Earth's guardian—poured every ounce of his strength into his right fist.

Rage and resolve burned in his blue eyes, fierce enough to melt steel.

Behind him, the faint image of a vast, burning golden star appeared. It was the source of his power, the symbol of his conviction.

With this punch, he would crush the madman before him, the one who had profaned the divine and toyed with the world!

Yet the instant their fists met, his confidence—enough to sink a continent—began to crumble.

It did not feel as though his fist had struck another man's.

It felt as though he had struck a... planet.

A planet forged from divine metal, with molten magic burning at its core!

A power older, more domineering, and even more sacred than the solar energy within him surged from his opponent's fist.

There was