The words of the Green Lanterns around him cut into Hal's heart like blades. He could charge headlong at Nekron without flinching, could face any enemy and lay down his life without hesitation—but this time, he was truly out of options.
Hal Jordan, momentarily at a loss for words, turned to Kyle, hoping his fellow Earthling might say something on his behalf. He wasn't expecting miracles—just enough to steady the Corps' morale. With everyone on the verge of walking out and going home, he refused to watch the Green Lantern Corps crumble like this after countless eons fighting for universal peace.
The Green Lantern Corps could be destroyed by an unstoppable enemy. But it should never be torn apart from within after its members lost faith. That was something Abin Sur—the one who'd entrusted Hal with his ring and this burden—would never have wanted to see.
"Kyle, could you share your thoughts?"
Following his gaze, the remaining Green Lanterns turned to Kyle as well. Amid a sea of green, his white suit stood out like a beacon.
"I..." Kyle started, then caught himself mid-sentence, realizing that his earlier suggestion of continuing as the White Lantern had been impractical at best.
He understood the Green Lanterns' concerns completely. After all, he'd been the one who'd charged into the Source Wall on a near-suicide mission to save the universe. He knew exactly what choices he'd faced in that moment. If it happened again, would he do the same? Searching his conscience, he believed he would. But could anyone else?
He was just a mortal. Kyle Rayner wasn't going to live for billions of years and crash through the Wall again the next time the Emotional Spectrum ran dry.
Billions of years from now, there wouldn't even be dust left of him.
As for training a successor—passing the White Lantern down through generations—he entertained the thought for all of two seconds before abandoning it.
The difficulty was absurd. He knew that from personal experience. He'd taken every shortcut imaginable, caught every lucky break, and still barely managed to become the White Lantern. The process couldn't be replicated. Without the same opportunities, someone would have to grind through it the hard way like Thea—each new emotion conquered doubling the difficulty, all the way until they'd unified all seven lights.
Kyle was fairly certain he couldn't even pass it on within his own generation, let alone across billions of years. If he had that kind of time, he'd be better off figuring out how to make himself immortal. At least that seemed simpler.
So what was the answer? Maintain the Green Lantern Corps, keep fighting cosmic criminals, and wait for the Emotional Spectrum to deplete again in billions of years, triggering another universal catastrophe? Or start now—disband the Corps, seal the emotional drain, and give future generations a safe universe?
Two choices lay before Kyle. He knew that as the central figure of this crisis—the savior, the Torch Bearer—his words would sway a lot of people. But he hadn't made up his own mind.
With everyone staring at him, Kyle opened and closed his mouth, unable to form a single word.
This decision was too monumental. It shouldn't be his to make.
The weight of a future threat and present duty pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.
He couldn't take a stance. Not yet. Stall for time. Kyle decided he'd ask the unofficial "grand commander" of all seven Corps—Thea—for her opinion afterward, and figure things out from there.
His silence infuriated Hal Jordan.
The furious Hal grabbed him by the collar. "Are you giving up? You swore to the Green Lanterns too, Kyle! Green Lanterns forever—light through all ages! Did you forget? Without the Green Lanterns, how do we maintain order in the universe?!"
Kyle was equally angry. He shoved Hal's hand away. "And the consequences? Have you thought about the consequences? Your recklessness could get everyone killed!"
"All I know is the universe needs the Green Lanterns right now! Needs us to keep the peace, to fight criminals!"
"But you can't sacrifice the future! Sacrifice the entire universe!"
"So we should just abandon everything we have? Ignore everyone who needs our help?"
Hal didn't wait for a reply. "Fellow Lanterns, I'm worried about the universe's future too. But I think we should focus on the present—do what we're supposed to do, and do it well. The next depletion is hundreds of millions of years away. In all that time, if we pool our wisdom and work together, can't we find a way to prevent that future from happening?"
He raised his right hand high, letting everyone see the ring on his finger. It blazed with brilliant, radiant green light. Then, with every ounce of strength he had, he bellowed:
"Green Lanterns forever! Light through all ages!"
The plaza fell silent for several seconds. Then, slowly, others began raising their fists, echoing the rallying cry.
More and more joined in. They'd accepted Hal Jordan's approach: deal with the present first, figure the rest out later.
Watching his rally take hold, Hal exhaled a long breath of relief. Privately, he genuinely felt these people were overthinking it. Fretting about something billions of years away, walking around like the world had ended—completely unnecessary.
Go find Thea and the others to figure it out afterward. That was his plan. Let the people with the bigger shoulders carry the bigger problems. Maybe what seemed impossible to him was a non-issue for someone else.
Just as he was about to dispatch everyone back to their respective sectors to restore order, a thunderous explosion ripped through Oa's outer defenses.
"Someone's attacking Oa!"
"Who has the nerve?!"
The thousand-plus Green Lanterns went into a panic. Before the Blackest Night, they wouldn't have flinched—back then, their ranks were full, morale was high, and they'd have taken on any challenger without a second thought. But after one catastrophe after another, they'd been battered into a state of near-constant anxiety.
Like a flock of startled birds, they scrambled. All debate about the Emotional Spectrum was instantly shelved. Every single one of them slipped on their rings, ready to fight the incoming enemy to the death.
Golden energy punched through Oa's outer defenses. Orion, leading the forces of New Genesis, touched down on Oa's surface.
The Highfather's Guard were uniformly equipped—full armor, energy lances in hand. Those lances served for both close combat and firing energy beams; they were what had shattered Oa's outer perimeter in a coordinated barrage.
Thanks to the contributions of Thea and Diana, New Genesis's military had diversified considerably. Beyond the traditional cavalry, lancers, and archers, they'd developed mage and shield-warrior units.
The Guard were New Genesis's elite. Their individual combat power generally exceeded that of the Four Great Legions, and their devotion to Highfather bordered on fanatical.
"Hm?" Hal Jordan had never met Orion, but the Flash had fought alongside the New Gods on Earth-2 and had described Orion's appearance to him. The Guard's equipment looked familiar too. These didn't seem like enemies—so why had they blasted through Oa's defenses?
"You're with the New Gods? Why are you here on Oa?" Hal flew up to Orion's eye level.
Orion wore a helmet that exposed only his jaw. His voice was low and heavy. "I come on the orders of Highfather. He wishes to see this Earthling."
He pointed straight at Kyle Rayner in the crowd. One white suit in a sea of green—impossible to miss.
Hal Jordan's temper flared right back up. The visitor's tone was blunt, and he'd brought an army. This didn't look like a diplomatic visit.