Superman's cape was shredded, his suit in tatters, his body bloodied as he wearily traded blows with Doomsday inside the massive crater their battle had carved into the city. Clark was slowing—but the beast was not. Doomsday continued to pummel him relentlessly.
Lois couldn't stand it anymore.
Seeing how close Superman was to collapse, she acted.
She hurled a stone to draw Doomsday's attention, intending to sacrifice herself—to force Clark's hand, to make him end the fight with lethal force.
The monster's gaze snapped to her. For a brief, terrifying moment, Lois reconsidered. But courage had never been something she lacked. She forced her eyes open and braced herself.
Doomsday leapt.
Then all she saw was a red-and-blue blur, followed by a thunderous crash and rolling impact—and suddenly, it was over. She was unharmed.
Lois looked around, expecting to see Superman battered but alive, smiling like he always did.
Instead, her heart sank.
Superman had thrown himself at Doomsday, snapping the monster's neck—but in that same instant, one of the bone spurs jutting from Doomsday's arm pierced his body. The wound was fatal.
Lois jumped into the crater, cradling Clark's broken form as tears streamed down her face.
"Stay with me," she begged. "Please… stay with me."
"That thing…" Clark wheezed. "Is it…?"
"Yes," Lois sobbed. "You did it. You saved everyone."
"Good," he whispered. "That's all I ever wanted. Except for you. What a lucky man I was."
The light faded from his eyes.
Superman died in Lois Lane's arms.
"No. No, no, no!" she cried.
A white flash rippled across the world. Buildings that should have been ruined reverted to their previous states. Children reappeared as if from nowhere.
But Clark did not.
Jimmy continued broadcasting as the news spread across the globe. The world mourned millions lost—and the greatest hero it had ever known.
**
| Metropolis - October 17
Lex Luthor sat calmly in his cell at Stryker's Island Penitentiary, dressed in orange overalls, watching the news. The government planned to prosecute him in federal court for crimes he couldn't be bothered to remember, along with his involvement with the Light.
He removed a hidden phone—illegal, of course, but he was Lex Luthor.
He dialed.
"Is it done?"
On the other end, Mercy replied, "Project Doomsday fulfilled its purpose."
The project had been created by refining remaining Kryptonian DNA from Match and Superboy and combining it with their nanite research—an adaptive, evolving biological weapon.
The chaos had been the perfect opportunity. Superman, isolated and overwhelmed, couldn't rely on the full Justice League.
And it worked.
Once, Lex would have celebrated this as proof that human intellect—his intellect—was superior to alien power. He would have claimed he freed humanity from the shadow of a god, positioning himself as its rightful savior.
But prison had given him time to reflect.
Without Superman, Lex realized he had nothing. His identity had been built entirely on opposition. Much of his hatred stemmed from self-loathing—using Superman as an excuse for his own failures. Without someone to blame, Lex was forced to confront the truth: he hadn't solved the world's problems. He'd exploited them.
And perhaps… humanity needed a Superman more than a Lex Luthor.
But he didn't care.
"Good," Luthor said, ending the call. He leaned back, exhaling—caught between catharsis and disappointment.
He still felt envy. And envy demanded elimination. He didn't just want Superman dead—he wanted what Superman had: love, hope, legacy.
If he couldn't have it himself, his legacy would suffice.
Whether the world condemned him, imprisoned him forever, or erased him entirely no longer mattered. Without Superman, he was simply a rich man among dull people.
He had already won.
The rest was up to his son.
**
| Metropolis - October 19
"Superman was an example who inspired us to reach beyond ourselves, to soar toward a better tomorrow," Mayor Booker said from the podium.
Behind him stood a towering monument of Superman, smiling proudly, a bird perched on his arm. At the statue's base sat a ceremonial cauldron, unlit for now.
The Justice League stood solemnly nearby. In front of the podium rested Superman's coffin, and behind it were rows of seats reserved for the city's most prominent figures—the Metropolis Police Commissioner, Lois Lane, even the President. Beyond them, cordoned off by police, stretched a massive crowd.
It felt as though all of Metropolis had gathered to mourn, despite the trauma of the past few days—despite having been separated from their children only recently.
"He was a hero to Metropolis," the mayor continued, "but more importantly, he was a friend."
Joseph sat a few rows from the front, dressed in a black suit, his aunt seated to his left. She had been safe during Superman and Doomsday's destructive battle in Metropolis of the adult dimension. Child had made the children's dimension the parent dimension, and when the spell was reversed, it was the children's dimension that remained.
Behind Joseph stood Killer Croc in a suit, looming and silent—an effective deterrent against anyone attempting small talk. Joseph wasn't in the mood.
"…his powers were truly amazing," the mayor went on.
The Hour of Chaos—that was what the event was being called now. Child's assault had lasted only an hour, but the damage was immeasurable. Several of the dead were people Joseph had known.
Mr. Jack, acting CEO of BellCorp. Pastor Norman McCay from Chicago. His high school basketball coach. His former Icefood Lounge Express manager. Friends, acquaintances—gone.
Even heroes and villains who had risen to fight the disasters had fallen: Ted Kord, the Blue Beetle; Daniel Cassidy, the Blue Devil; Bane; and old man Kent.
More than ten million had died during the dimensional separation alone. Any vehicle driven by an adult with a child passenger became instantly unmanned. Tens of thousands of planes, trains, and cars crashed.
Infants and toddlers were left unattended in bathtubs, high chairs, and operating rooms. Many power plants, water treatment facilities, and air-traffic control towers—most staffed by adults—failed when the adult population vanished from the Child Dimension. Nova had done what it could, but many systems had already collapsed.
The supernatural disasters that struck nearly every major city killed another sixteen million, most of them in the adult dimension—because Joseph was trapped in the child dimension and able to operate at extreme speed, shutting down disasters and rescuing children before the destruction could fully unfold.
At least twenty-five million people had died within a single hour. Hundreds of millions more were affected. Children were orphaned. Adults were left childless—some driven to take their own lives.
The weight of it all settled heavily on Joseph.
He knew Child's rampage wasn't entirely his fault—but if he hadn't killed Klarion, none of this might have happened.
When he eliminated Vandal Savage, he had taken responsibility for Earth's protection and guidance—and he had failed. He should have built Luthorbots faster. Prepared more magical contingencies. Saved more children. Found and eliminated Child sooner.
He should have done more.
"Of course," the mayor continued, "Superman did not act alone. The Justice League also put their lives on the line against this brutal, incomprehensible evil. In many ways, I'm sure they feel the loss of a leader—and a friend—most of all."
Wonder Woman's expression tightened, as did those of several League members. Batman was absent—likely injured—but Joseph knew he was grieving more deeply than anyone. Superman had been the closest thing Bruce Wayne had to a best friend.
Joseph himself had never been close to Superman. He had avoided the Team, feeling violated by the creation of Superboy. But eventually he'd come to terms with it—befriending Conner, welcoming him into his family, treating him, and later Match, like younger brothers.
"For Superman," the mayor concluded, "always in our hearts."
Captain Atom rose into the air and released a controlled blast. The cauldron ignited, its flame rising skyward as Metropolis fell into silence.
Conner and Match were probably with the Kents now, mourning.
Joseph's shoulders sagged.
Superman shouldn't have died like this.