Beyond the Limit (DC)

Chapter 272 272: 272

"I was just passing by. I wanted to thank you for coming to Jonny's birthday. I would've said something earlier, but I couldn't get a hold of you these past few days," Superman said with a smile.

As Nova-Prime, Joseph spent much of his time searching the galaxy for clues that might help solve the problem of their universe's gradual deterioration. Beyond that, he devoted most of his attention to his family.

These days, he rarely appeared at work except to sign documents, attend the occasional meeting, and make public appearances.

Superman's son had celebrated his birthday only a few days earlier. Naturally, Mar'i and Helena had been invited to the Kent family farm in Smallville, along with their parents. Jonny's godmother, Wonder Woman, attended as well, alongside his uncles Conner and Mon-El.

Even Wolf had been there.

Conner's loyal companion had become a favorite of young Jonny's.

Unfortunately, Sphere couldn't attend. She was currently serving as a Nova Centurion in the Polaris Star System.

For years, Sphere had spent most of her time at the Cave, doing little beyond accompanying the Teen Titans on missions that didn't require extensive stealth or assisting Joseph and Nova with research in the Mirror Dimension.

So when Joseph offered her a position in the Nova Corps, she accepted immediately.

After all, if there could be an entire planet of Green Lanterns, a sentient robot serving in the Nova Corps wasn't particularly strange.

Clark continued.

"We really appreciated the Kryptonese storybooks about the House of El."

"You can thank the Phaelosians for that," Joseph replied. "An old man named Byla knows far more stories of the past."

And the future as well.

Byla-Voq, also known as Byla-Esh, was one of the Old Gods of Urgrund and the former guardian of Warworld's Necropolis.

When the Multiverse was young, Olgrun—the first and greatest of the Old Gods—created countless worlds filled with wonders. Eventually, however, he descended into madness.

To stop him, the other Old Gods split his essence into seven aspects and scattered them throughout the Multiverse. Each aspect was hidden within a world built specifically to guard it, protected by traps and trials meant to keep the unworthy away.

One of these fragments, the Fire of Olgrun, was concealed at the center of the Necropolis, a constantly shifting city that later became the core of Warworld itself.

Byla had been placed there to guard it.

Taking the form of a humble Phaelosian slave and storyteller, he spent millennia waiting for a worthy successor. Though he insisted his tales were merely fiction, his stories contained knowledge of forgotten civilizations, Warworld's ancient history, and even glimpses of the future.

Joseph eventually discovered his true nature.

The old god immediately dropped the act.

Despite his immense age, Byla was astonishingly weak, which was why he had managed to remain hidden from Joseph's Nova Sense for months.

Yet despite his weakness, he refused to allow Joseph access to the Fire of Olgrun.

Even at the cost of his own life.

According to Byla, Joseph simply wasn't worthy.

Only someone as good as Superman could claim the Fire.

Not that Byla could have stopped him if Joseph had truly wanted it.

The truth was that Joseph wasn't interested.

The Fire would transform its wielder into a host for Olgrun, granting the ability to summon a manifestation powerful enough to defeat an average New God. It also allowed the creation of powerful energy constructs resembling Olgrun himself.

Impressive abilities.

But redundant.

Joseph already possessed stronger powers without the drawback of becoming host to a mad deity.

Once Byla realized Joseph had no intention of claiming the Fire, he became far more cooperative.

The old god even admitted that the changes Joseph had made to Xandar suggested he wasn't malevolent.

Unfortunately, none of his answers had proven useful.

Byla's clairvoyance offered only scattered glimpses of the past and future. Nothing he had seen revealed how the universe would end—or whether it would end at all.

As for reassembling all seven aspects of Olgrun?

That would either resurrect Olgrun and doom the universe personally...

Or, in Byla's words, "make you the great hero you were meant to be."

Joseph had never been sure what that meant.

More power, probably.

But power wasn't the problem.

Other worlds in the Dark Multiverse still marched toward destruction despite being home to Old Gods, New Gods, and beings far stronger than Joseph himself.

Power alone could not save a doomed reality.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Joseph refocused on the present.

"Anyway, I saw the updated rankings. Congratulations on another year at the top."

Clark laughed.

"I appreciate it. Though we both know that if you hadn't stopped being a hero, that spot would belong to you."

Joseph had largely retired from operating as Nova on Earth.

These days, he only intervened during large-scale crises—alien invasions, magical catastrophes, or extinction-level threats.

Humanity would never reach its full potential if it were constantly protected by gods.

The reforms he was implementing as Joseph Luthor were already pushing the limits of what one person should influence.

Clark understood that better than anyone.

It was the same reason he had never shared the vast technological treasures hidden within the Fortress of Solitude.

The Fortress contained clean energy systems, advanced medical technologies, terraforming equipment, and scientific knowledge centuries beyond Earth's own.

Yet Superman kept it locked away.

Clark had been raised by Jonathan and Martha Kent to believe that genuine progress could not be imposed from above.

It had to be earned.

If Superman solved every problem with alien miracles, then Lex's greatest fear would become reality.

Humanity would stop striving.

If he built Earth's energy grids, cured every disease, and automated every hardship, he would effectively become a benevolent dictator—a celestial caretaker upon whom humanity depended for everything.

Joseph remembered a holographic message from Jor-El he had once seen in the Fortress of Solitude within the Mirror World.

The words had stayed with him ever since.

"You will give the people of Earth an ideal to strive toward. They will race behind you. They will stumble. They will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun, Kal-El. In time, they will help you accomplish wonders."

Joseph had found that philosophy deeply inspiring.

Now his goal wasn't to build a perfect world for humanity, but to protect humanity from existential threats so they would have the time and security to build a perfect world for themselves.

He wanted humanity to discover its own cures for cancer and develop its own clean energy solutions, because that was the only way society could truly grow.

"Have some more pride," Joseph said. "I could never achieve the approval ratings you do organically. People look up to you for a reason. Besides, I created the system and play a large role in enforcing it. It'd be a little pretentious to rank myself for doing a good job. And now you can finally get properly rewarded for all the work you put in instead of relying on a reporter's salary and whatever scraps the U.N. threw at the League."

Before the formation of the HPSC, much of the Justice League's funding came from donations made by members through companies like Wayne Enterprises, Queen Industries, and Holt Industries.

Now that burden had been significantly reduced, allowing those resources to be invested elsewhere.

"I don't do it for the money," Superman said.

"I know. But it must feel nice that Bruce can't claim he's funding your salary through both the Daily Planet and the Justice League."

Clark laughed.

"He has made a few of those jokes at my expense."

Then his expression brightened.

"Anyway, Barry and I were thinking about holding a charity race to support the victims of Super Typhoon Haiyan in the Philippines. Would you be interested?"

Typhoon Haiyan had featured sustained winds exceeding one hundred and ninety-five miles per hour, flattening entire coastal cities such as Tacloban.

More than fourteen million people had been affected.

At least the death toll had been reduced from the projected thousands to fewer than a hundred thanks to the emergency deployment of Red Tornado and several LuthorBots.

LuthorCorp had already provided substantial humanitarian aid, but additional support certainly wouldn't hurt.

"Sure thing," Joseph said. "Just let me know the date and I'll be there."

**

| Mount Justice - October 2

Jason rolled across the illuminated arena floor, tracing the boundary line with his shoulder before springing back to his feet.

A boot whipped through the air where his head had been a moment earlier.

In the Cave, the Alpha Squad of the Teen Titans—Starfire, Nightwing, Beast Boy, Raven, Artemis, Nova Knight, Aquagirl, and Arsenal—were holding a training session.

Normally both squads trained together.

Today, however, the Beta Squad—Aqualad, Miss Martian, Zatanna, Tempest, Troia, Rocket, and Robin—were investigating an Atlantean supremacist attack in Shayeris.

The recovered Jason and Dick circled one another.

Over the years, Jason had been trained by some of the best martial artists on the planet.

He was the protégé of Nova-Prime himself.

He received occasional lessons from Starfire, who had studied under the Warlords of Okaara, masters of dozens of forms of armed and unarmed combat.

He could hold his own against Catwoman, though Selina still enjoyed reminding him she could beat him with one hand tied behind her back.

He frequently sparred with Captain Marvel. While Billy still had the better record, their matches had become much closer ever since Billy shared his power with Mary and Freddy the previous year, leaving him permanently at roughly a third of his former strength.

And then there was Cass.

His sister had been trained by assassins before she could speak and seemed physically incapable of ending a sparring session without planting him on his back at least once.

Jason had learned a lot from all of them.

He'd spent years training in hand-to-hand combat, weapons work, and aerial engagements as Nova Knight.

By any reasonable standard, Jason was an exceptional fighter.

Dick Grayson was still dismantling him.

The two teenagers circled across the illuminated arena floor in athletic clothes rather than costumes. No gadgets, no powers, no Nova Force—just skill against skill.

Jason struck first.

A jab flowed into a cross and then a low kick, each attack transitioning smoothly into the next. Dick slipped outside the punch, ducked beneath the cross, and hopped over the kick without ever seeming rushed.

Jason followed with a spinning elbow.

Dick leaned back just enough for it to whistle past his nose.

Annoying.

Jason pressed the attack, chaining punches, knees, and kicks together in rapid succession. Dick gave ground, deflecting strikes with small, efficient movements that wasted almost no energy.

Everything looked effortless.

That irritated Jason more than anything.

He switched tactics, feinting high before diving for a takedown. For a brief moment he thought he'd caught Dick off guard.

Instead, Dick planted both hands on Jason's shoulders and vaulted clean over him.

Jason spun around.

Dick was already gone.

Not literally, but it felt that way.

The former Boy Wonder seemed to glide around the arena, constantly shifting angles and denying Jason any chance to establish a rhythm. Every time Jason thought he had him lined up, Dick was somewhere else.

Jason launched another combination.

This time Dick answered.

A jab snapped against Jason's guard. A kick clipped his thigh. A palm strike bumped his shoulder.

None of the hits were particularly hard.

That somehow made them more aggravating.

The spectators around the arena chuckled as Jason surged forward again.

For several seconds, the two exchanged blows at a blistering pace. Hands blurred. Feet flashed across the arena floor. To an untrained observer, the fight looked completely even.

Jason knew better.

The difference revealed itself in the details.

A foot landed slightly too wide. A shoulder rotated a fraction too much. Tiny mistakes that most fighters wouldn't even notice.

Dick noticed every single one.

A tap redirected Jason's wrist. A shove disrupted his balance. A quick strike punished an opening before it could close. Nothing decisive by itself, but the pressure never stopped building.

Years of experience were speaking.

Jason gritted his teeth and committed to one final push.

A right hook.

Dick slipped it.

A left cross.

Blocked.

Jason stepped in with a knee.

Dick caught it.

His stomach dropped.

Dick pivoted.

Suddenly the world flipped upside down.

Jason hit the mat hard and rolled, trying to recover before Dick could capitalize, but Nightwing was already on him. One arm hooked around his shoulder while a knee pinned his chest.

Jason twisted violently.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

Then the arena lights flashed red.

"Match over. Good job guys," Kori said.

Jason blinked and looked up.

His head was hanging just beyond the glowing boundary line.

Realization slowly dawned on him.

Dick hadn't simply taken him down.

He'd been steering him.

Every retreat, every dodge, every exchange had nudged Jason closer and closer to the edge until there was nowhere left to go.

"You planned that?" Jason asked.

Dick shrugged.

"A little."

Jason gave him a flat look.

Dick grinned.

"Okay. A lot."

Laughter erupted around the arena.

Nightwing climbed to his feet and offered a hand.

Jason stared at it for a second before taking it.

"You're annoying."

"I get that a lot."

Dick pulled him up and brushed some dust off his shirt.

"For what it's worth, you could give the me from three years ago a real fight."

Jason paused.

The compliment landed harder than any punch.

Robin had been one of his heroes growing up in Gotham—the kid who fought beside Batman and somehow survived. Even now, after years of training and countless missions, it still felt strange that they were teammates.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Next time."

Nightwing smirked.

"That's what you said last time."

The Cave burst into laughter while Jason groaned and buried his face in his hands.