Chapter 234: The Brightest Day
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The world was bright with the white light of life.
Where hours ago the skies had been blackened with the endless swarm of the dead, now they were clear. The suffocating presence of the black rings had vanished, as though Nekron’s shadow itself had been burned away. Corpses that had risen as soldiers of death collapsed, their borrowed existence severed. Some turned to nothing but ash, swept away on the wind. Others.. Impossibly breathed again, restored by the blinding white surge that had swept the world.
Life after death.
Superman hovered above Metropolis, his cape torn, below him, the streets that had been war zones now filled with people weeping, clinging to one another, alive when they should not have been. He clenched his fists, not in anger, but in awe.
"It’s over..." he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, before his eyes turned skyward. That faint white glow still lingered far above, like a beacon. His lips curled into a faint smile. "Arthur... I don’t know what you did, but..." He exhaled, voice soft, almost reverent. "...you pulled it off." and then he descended back to the ground.
Not far from him, Kara descended, her body battered but her spirit bright as ever. The moment her boots touched the cracked pavement, survivors rushed toward her some to thank her, others just to cling to the hope she represented. She smiled, weak but real, even as her arms trembled. She caught Superman’s eye across the wreckage.
"He did it." Her voice carried both joy and disbelief, her bright eyes glowing. "I knew he would. He is just like that."
Clark only nodded, a small laugh escaping him as if a mountain had finally been lifted off his shoulders.
Across the ocean, Wonder Woman stood among the ruins of a city, her sword planted into the earth. Her armor was marred, her breathing heavy, but her poise remained regal. Around her, Amazons and soldiers alike collapsed in relief as the corpses that had clawed at them turned lifeless once more. She lowered her blade, eyes on the lingering glow in the sky.
"Such resolve..." she whispered, lips curving into something between admiration and pride. "A mortal who fights with the strength of the gods... Arthur Blackwynd."
Elsewhere, the Titans fought their own battle as well. Raven knelt amid a wreckage in Jump City, her cloak shredded, sweat dripping from her brow. Her chest heaved as if every breath were a battle. Though her shadow ring still blazed with power, she couldn’t bear it a moment longer. With trembling hands, she pulled it free, staring at the violet gleam.
"How..." she rasped, barely above a whisper, her voice trembling with awe and fatigue. "How can Arthur handle this kind of power so casually..."
Doom stood over her, a hulking mass of jagged bone and shadow. His glowing violet eyes never left her, his massive form bent low, protective. He shifted uneasily, claws twitching as though every passing second without her strength terrified him. For a being built to crush, his nervousness was almost comical.
Beast Boy, lying flat on the ground in the shape of a dog, forced a weak laugh through his exhaustion. "Kinda hilarious, right? Big scary shadow-monster, looking like a nervous puppy over Raven. Someone clearly doesn’t want to disappoint his master.."
Even Starfire, panting heavily with burns across her arms, managed a soft chuckle at that. Cyborg groaned where he sat against a pile of rubble, shaking his head. "Man, why can’t we catch a break... dealing with space zombies was not part of my plans this weekend."
Raven gave them a side glance, too drained to scold, too grateful to speak. She let her eyes close for just a moment, Doom still watching over her.
And for once, she didn’t feel afraid of the silence.
Far away, in the quiet halls of Arthur’s family estate, shadows moved differently. Galatea who was sent here by Arthur, stood tall by the window, her violet eyes gleaming as she turned toward Adam and Arthur’s mother. Behind her, Kaisel and Blade lingered like statues, loyal guardians.
Her tone was calm, certain. "My King already dealt with the enemy."
Adam stood at the window, arms folded, his jaw tight as he stared into the horizon. Outside, the sky shimmered with strange light, faint and holy, unlike anything he’d ever seen.
"Yeah..." he muttered, his voice softer than usual. His reflection in the glass looked older somehow, worn from the weight of all that had happened. "I think it’s over."
His eyes lifted to the strange white glow still lingering in the heavens, his throat tight as he whispered, almost to himself:
"...though there’s a strange white light in the sky now."
His mother came beside him, following his gaze with quiet wonder. She didn’t say a word, but her hand found his, squeezing it gently.
The world breathed again.
The skies that had moments ago been choked with black rings and the endless shrieks of the dead were now strangely quiet, as if the universe itself had sighed in relief. The rings were gone, burned away by the white light that had poured through Hal Jordan and through the shadows that Arthur unleashed. Death had loosened its grip, completely.
And in that silence came the sound that shook battlefields more than war drums ever could, weeping.
On the ruined streets of Metropolis, a soldier stared down at his hands in disbelief. A moment ago, they had been rotting flesh, bound to Nekron’s will. Now his skin was whole again, warm with life. His comrades stared at him as if they’d seen a ghost. One dropped his weapon, backing away, whispering prayers to gods he didn’t believe in.
a woman fell to her knees as her husband stumbled into her arms, alive after being slain in the first wave of lanterns. She had witnessed him turning into one of them, and she clutched him like he might disappear again, sobbing into his chest, while he simply held her, stunned, as though he too didn’t understand how breath filled his lungs once more.
Children ran to parents who only hours ago had been lifeless on the ground. Some cried with joy. Others screamed in fear, unable to process how their dead mother, their dead father, could suddenly stand and smile again. Not all wounds could be healed by resurrection.
In Gotham, a police officer stared at his fallen partner, revived by the white light. He dropped his cap, tears streaming. "I saw you die..." His voice broke as he embraced him. "God help me, I saw you become one of them..."
But not everyone celebrated. A man sat shivering in the rubble of Coast City, his revived son clinging to him, alive, breathing. The man’s eyes were wide, trembling. "This... this isn’t right. You were gone... you were gone!" His words trembled between gratitude and fear. He didn’t push the boy away, but his mind could not reconcile miracle from nightmare.
Heroes bore witness to it all.
Superman stood in the sunlight now, chest rising as if the burden of a thousand deaths had been lifted. His cape, tattered and scorched, fluttered in the faint breeze. For all his strength, his eyes shimmered with unrestrained relief.
****
In Gotham, The Batwing cut silently through the pale glow that washed over the city. It was unlike anything the city had ever seen. The skyline jagged towers and gothic spires was bathed not in shadow, not in the cold orange of fire, but in a white brilliance that seemed to chase every corner of the dark away.
For the first time in a long time, Gotham looked... peaceful. Almost alive.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl. His instruments flickered, struggling to register the phenomenon, but he barely looked at them. His gaze stayed locked on the city below. He saw the streets, where people who had moments ago fought corpses were now reuniting with them, husbands and wives collapsing into each other’s arms, children clutching parents they thought were gone. Some screamed, some laughed, some just fell to their knees and wept.
The light wasn’t just illumination. It was life itself, reclaiming ground it had lost.
Bruce’s breath was steady, but his thoughts weren’t. He had studied the Lanterns for years enough to know their oaths, enough to know their weapons were more than mere rings. He had scoffed at their words once. To him, they were theater. Ritual. A soldier’s creed wrapped in poetry.
But now, flying through this impossible dawn, he understood.
His voice, low and gravelled, broke the silence of the cockpit.
"So this is it. The Blackest Night..." His eyes tracked the horizon, where the last streaks of black burned away, giving way to a blinding radiance. "...followed by the Brightest Day."
The words were not mere words, it was never a random oath, and now Batman understood it fully.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
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You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want