The halls of LexCorp were eerily silent. The high-rise tower, once a symbol of Luthor's unmatched ambition, now felt like a mausoleum—a monument to his failures. Lex Luthor stood before a vast window, staring out at the sprawling city below, a city that had transformed into Superman's utopia.
He was losing. There was no denying it anymore. The resistance he had championed was gone, crushed beneath the weight of Superman's rule. The world had been remade, and he was an outcast—a relic of a world that no longer existed.
His fist tightened around the glass of his whiskey tumbler, but he didn't drink. He didn't need to. The bitterness had already seeped deep into his soul.
"I can't lose this," Luthor muttered to himself, his voice low, almost a growl. "Not like this."
Behind him, his most trusted advisor—Mercy Graves—stood silently, waiting. She had seen him this way before, but never to this degree. The once unshakable man was now a shadow of himself, his pride broken, and his plans undone.
"Lex, you've tried everything," Mercy spoke softly, her tone concerned. "Superman's power is too vast, and you've lost every battle. The people... they've accepted him."
Luthor didn't turn to face her. "They don't understand," he snapped, voice rising. "They never have. He's not a savior. He's a tyrant. He's just better at selling it."
Mercy stayed quiet, knowing the storm within him was far from over. Luthor's obsession with Superman had consumed him for years, and it was clear now that it would either drive him to greatness or destroy him completely.
Turning away from the window, Luthor's eyes glowed with a dangerous resolve. "There is still one card left to play."
Mercy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Luthor walked across the room, his steps heavy with purpose. He reached for a small, metal box on a pedestal. Inside, a glowing red gem pulsed with a dark energy. It was the last piece of the puzzle—a weapon that could end Superman's reign once and for all.
"Do you remember the old legends?" Luthor asked, his voice now cold and calculating. "The ones about the gods who fell from the heavens, only to be consumed by the very power that made them?"
Mercy nodded slowly, but her expression was unsure. "You're not talking about the Kryptonite, are you?"
Luthor smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a man who had nothing left to lose.
"No. This is something far more dangerous than Kryptonite," he said, his fingers brushing against the glowing gem. "This is an ancient artifact. A power older than Krypton itself. With this, I can strip Superman of everything—his strength, his will, everything."
He turned to her, his eyes burning with fervor.
"And once he's gone, Mercy, I will be the one to rebuild this world."
Meanwhile, across the globe, Superman stood atop the Hall of Justice, looking down on the city he had sworn to protect. His eyes still glowed faintly with power, but there was something in his gaze—a growing uncertainty.
He had won, yes. But the cost of his victory was starting to weigh heavily on him. The world was peaceful, yes, but at what price? Could he truly call this freedom?
He wasn't given the time to ponder these questions, as a ripple in the air—the faintest distortion—caught his attention. He turned toward the disturbance, and for a moment, he thought he felt something... wrong. The world around him seemed to shift, and his senses flared in warning.
Then, a voice. Soft. Barely a whisper in his ear.
"Lex Luthor isn't finished yet."
Superman's eyes widened, and for the first time in years, something familiar—a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time—began to stir within him.
Fear.
Back in Luthor's private lab, the glow of the ancient gem intensified. He placed it into a complex machine, which hummed to life, its core crackling with energy. This wasn't just a weapon; it was a harbinger. And it was ready.
Luthor, standing in front of the device, cracked his neck. He wasn't just planning to defeat Superman now. He was going to destroy him.
The world had been shaped by Superman's vision. But now, the true test would begin. Luthor would reclaim the power that had always been his birthright, and no one—not even a god—would stand in his way.
"This is the beginning of the end," Luthor muttered, as he activated the device, his face illuminated by the pulsing red light.
And then, the world trembled.