"So what kind of damage are we expecting?" Zatanna's voice cut through the tension in the room. She was pacing, her hands moving as she spoke, counting off on her fingers. "We've already lost the WarWorld. The entire Cursed Lantern Army is gone. Dead." She paused, correcting herself. "Well, demons don't die, but summoning the army again is going to take a lot more than we can afford."
Jason stood at the head of the table, his hands flat against the surface, his eyes distant. "I'm not sure. I don't believe he will have an army with him." He looked up, meeting their gazes. "However, the damage... I'll try to minimize it by fighting him away from Earth. It won't be an exaggeration to say that our fight could wipe out the planet."
Superman leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "If he's that powerful, how do you plan to..."
"He won't be in his true powerful form." Jason cut him off, his voice calm but firm. "That form could erase our universe. But if he defeats me..." He paused. "It's safe to say our universe will truly be destroyed. Because at that point, there will be nothing stopping him from achieving his purpose." His jaw tightened. "God himself has abandoned that idea."
The room went silent. Zatanna stopped pacing.
"Well, shit." She ran a hand through her hair. "We've got to prepare then. Fighting this being is going to take all of us going all out." She started ticking off points again. "I'm going to talk to Mazikeen. Diana has already readied the Amazonians for the fight against Darkseid, so we'll just change the goal post. I will talk..."
"They won't be needed."
Jason's voice was quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade. Everyone turned to him. Superman's eyes narrowed. Batman's posture stiffened. Diana's hand found the edge of the table.
"What?" Diana stepped forward. "If you think we're letting you fight such a being alone, then—"
"You all cannot harm him." Jason's voice was flat, final. "Literally. I told you...I had no choice but to pick up that power. Because it is the only thing that can physically harm him. Kill him." He looked around the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "You all being there...and I say this with all due respect....will just be a hindrance. To me."
Diana opened her mouth. Jason held up a hand.
"You are all great heroes who seek to keep the world safe. As much as I do." His voice softened, just slightly. "But the Empty Hand is not an enemy any of you can face."
He stood up from the table. The chair scraped against the floor.
"He is simply too powerful. So powerful, in fact..." He paused, his eyes going distant. "I just sensed his descent into our universe. He is only a few space sectors away." He looked at them. "And yet I can still sense him from here."
He turned to Diana. His voice dropped.
"Diana. Please. Protect our child." He swallowed. "I'm not so sure I'll make it back. But for that child..." His hand found hers. "I will fight darkness itself. A part of it, I suppose."
He released her hand and stepped back.
"See you all later." He looked around the room one last time. "I know you all want to help. But simply put... there is no way you can."
He turned to leave.
Diana moved. Her arms wrapped around him from behind, her cheek pressing against his back. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Please return to me safely."
Jason's hand found hers. He squeezed it gently.
"I will."
He pulled away. A door manifested in front of him—a familiar door, with an Ankh at its top, pulsing with quiet light. He paused, his hand on the frame. He turned, just once, to look at the people he was leaving behind.
Then he stepped through.
....
he door opened into Death's kitchen.
Jason stepped through, and the familiar warmth of the house washed over him. The same modern fixtures. The same quiet stillness. The same sense of being somewhere that existed outside of time.
Death stood at the counter, a glass in her hand, her dark eyes fixed on him. Beside her, Dream sat at the table, his pale fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.
Death smiled as he entered. It was a soft smile, sad around the edges.
"Jason." She set the glass down. "You've picked up a strong burden." She walked toward him, her footsteps silent on the tile floor. "One that weighed down Lucifer before."
Jason met her gaze. His voice was steady. "I will do anything to protect my world."
Dream spoke from the table, his voice distant, like wind through dead leaves. "I admire your dedication." He rose from his chair, his robes flowing around him. "But you must understand what you are walking into."
Death gestured for Jason to sit. He didn't move.
"The upcoming battle," Dream continued, "will not decide the fate of this universe." He paused. "It will decide the fate of the multiverse itself."
Jason's jaw tightened. "I figured as much."
Death stepped closer. Her hand found his arm. "Just as you are a Beyonder Human, Jason..." Her eyes searched his. "So is the Empty Hand. A Beyonder Entity." She squeezed his arm gently. "Two beings like this existing in the same multiverse is simply not allowed. It breaks the laws of existence."
Dream nodded. "This is why both your powers are being limited now. The universe is trying to correct itself. To balance what should not be balanced."
Jason processed the words. "So neither of us is fighting at full strength?"
"Correct." Dream's voice was soft. "Your battle will be decided by who can better wield what remains."
Death released his arm and stepped back. "The winner," she said, "will completely absorb the other. Becoming a new being." She paused. "On the level of God. Darkness. Lucifer. Michael."
Dream's lips curved into something that might have been a smile. "If you win, you will be stronger than us." He gestured at himself, at Death. "Beings who have existed since the idea of existence started. You will surpass us all."
Jason stared at them. At Death. At Dream. At the weight of what they were telling him. His voice was quiet when he spoke.
"I appreciate you letting me know."
Death smiled again. This time, it was warmer.
"I have something for you." She walked toward him, her hand extended. "A gift."
He looked at her hand. "What is it?"
She didn't answer. She pricked her finger—a single drop of blood welling up, dark and ancient, carrying the weight of every ending that had ever been. She raised her hand and drew on his chest. An Ankh cross. Perfect and absolute. Her blood soaked into his skin, into his soul.
She stepped back.
"This is the best I can do to help you." Her voice was soft. "My blood. Real blood of Death." She met his eyes. "It will not save you. It will not win the battle for you." A pause. "But it will remind you that you are not alone."
Jason looked down at his chest. The Ankh was already fading, sinking into his skin, becoming part of him.
"Thank you." His voice was rough.
Death nodded. "I wish you win."
Dream stepped forward. "The door will lead you directly to him." He gestured at the door that had appeared behind Jason. "There is no more time for preparation. No more time for words."
Jason turned to the door. He paused.
"Goodbye." He didn't look back.
"Goodbye, Jason." Death's voice followed him.
The door opened.
He walked through.