His name was Yan Sen. No not the one from Cultivator Against Hero Society, but someone else entirely.
Reincarnated into a cultivation world, he carried with him an absurdly overpowered template — Yogiri Takatou from Instant Death. From the moment he arrived, true danger never existed for him.
As a cultivator, his strength only grew. In time, he ascended to immortality, gaining even the power of creation itself.
Eventually, he became so powerful that even existence lost its thrill. Out of sheer boredom, he decided it was time to leave this world behind — and step into another.
The moment he stepped into this new world, an invisible pulse of energy rippled through the cosmos.
Far away, in a realm untouched by time, the Endless felt it.
Destiny — a man cloaked in a dark, heavy robe, the hood drawn over his head, casting his sharp, defined features in shadow — paused. His skin was deep brown, his jaw square, his eyes cold and unwavering. In his hands, he held an ancient, colossal book bound in cracked leather and reinforced with iron clasps. Its thick, yellowed pages whispered secrets only he could read. Yet now, as he turned them, there was nothing written of this event.
He muttered under his breath:
"An anomaly."
Death — a young Black woman with warm brown eyes and a mane of long, curly black hair — felt it too. Clad in black leather, her necklace gleaming faintly with her sigil, she tilted her head in curiosity. Though she was the embodiment of Death, this sensation was new. A connection she had never felt before.
Dream, pale as moonlight with silver eyes and short black hair, stood silent. His gaze turned inward, through realms and realities, searching.
Destruction, broad-shouldered and handsome, with his reddish-brown hair and a short beard, frowned faintly. Blue eyes narrowed as he sensed something that should not be — yet intrigued him all the same.
Desire, with their golden eyes and androgynous beauty, lounged carelessly, painted nails tapping against their glass. Yet even they paused, a smile curling. Interesting.
Despair, pale and heavyset with wild, tangled blonde hair, said nothing. She only shivered.
They all felt it. Something powerful. Something... familiar. Yet not one of them.
Something like them.
While the Endless were the first to truly sense it, they were not alone.
Across distant realms, some of the strongest gods felt the ripple of this strange, alien power — faint, like a whisper against the storm of their own might. Yet most dismissed it.
[A/N: Greek God's is version is similar to Percy Jackson show/movie. Norse God's is God of War/ American Godsversions.]
But not all.
Among them stood Darkseid.
High upon his throne in the heart of Apokolips, the Lord of Tyranny paused. His crimson eyes narrowed as he lifted his gaze to the blackened sky. His expression, as ever, was unreadable — but there, in the faint tightening of his brow, was something rare.
Displeasure.
He had felt it too. A force not of his design. A presence neither god nor mortal, yet powerful enough to press faintly against his awareness.
For a moment, the cosmos held its breath.
Then, Darkseid turned away."Irrelevant. For now."
But he would remember.
Darkseid forgets nothing.
But none of them Endless could pinpoint the person's location, since it completely disappeared as it came.
While Yan Sen was slowing using his ominisense to get all the information of this new universe, he just arrived.
He laughed learning this was the DC verse, but timeline is atleast 2000 years before anything related Justice League happens.
He found entities like Endless present in this verse, so this is very strong verse.
He knew Darkseid is nothing infront of the Endless.
He muttered."Very interesting."
He wanted to get a good feel of this verse.
While the Endless were powerful in their own right, there were others—older, greater, beyond even their reach.
The Presence was eternal, without beginning or end. Though humans shaped His name and appearance through their beliefs and the Collective Unconscious, His true form was infinite—untouched by time, identity, or limitation.
The Great Darkness, the source and embodiment of all darkness in the Multiverse, had existed since the dawn of the Omniverse, born alongside The Presence. It had since receded into silence, dormant for ages. Though its essence had surfaced in many forms across history, it now remained still—unaware of the new arrival, lost in something akin to slumber.
Father Time, the primal force behind the flow of all existence, stood beyond linearity itself. He was the origin from which the concept of time sprang—older than the Endless, and their creator in a way. He felt the change, but made no move.
Mother Night, a vast cosmic being, was the personification of the absolute void—the emptiness that existed before light, before matter, before thought. She, too, noticed the presence, but gave no reaction. Her silence was deeper than apathy—it was simply her nature.
Among them, only The Presence regarded the arrival with interest. The others, whether by choice or by nature, remained still.