As the time remnant of the true Flash, Barry Allen, Savitar had always feared the fate of disappearing. For most of his life, he wandered through countless timelines, endlessly fleeing from destiny. Because of that, his desire to live burned stronger than anyone's.
Judging by how this disfigured version of Barry Allen could remain in the present timeline for so long—and even appear in public—it seemed that after arriving in the Marvel Universe, he might have escaped the fate of being a temporal remnant doomed to be erased by time.
However, even as a genuine human now, Savitar would never be content with just a few decades of life. His craving for existence was unmatched.
Speedsters are still human. They age, fall ill, and die. Their Healing Factor might surpass that of ordinary people, but the Speed Force doesn't grant them immortality. At their core, they remain mortals—mortals who have mastered the Speed Force.
There are countless Speedsters in the DC Universe. Ever since Barry Allen created the Speed Force, it seemed like Speedsters had multiplied endlessly.
Still, even though Speed Force users can run at incredible speeds—fast enough to travel through time—their physical durability often remains limited.
In that regard, Quicksilver was superior to most Speedsters. His speed came from his X-Gene.
That also meant his body had to withstand the strain of moving at such high velocity. He could only reach greater speeds when his physical condition allowed it. Speedsters who rely on the Speed Force, however, don't need such conditioning. Their physical strength is only slightly above that of normal humans.
They can't even resist bullets. At best, they can catch or trap small-caliber rounds within their muscles.
Of course, their sheer speed allows them to dodge or even grab bullets—but all of that depends on the bug-like power of the Speed Force.
The Speed Force generates an energy field—like a biological force field—that allows a Speedster, within its protection, to rival gods while still possessing a mortal body.
You get it now?
In the end, Speedsters are still mortals. Their lifespans aren't much longer than ordinary humans. Even Barry Allen, the very creator of the Speed Force, is no exception.
Don't be fooled by the disfigured Barry Allen hidden behind his armor like a monster. Even with that armor, he can't escape time's relentless erosion.
"God of Speed."
Savitar didn't choose such a dramatic name just because it sounded intimidating. It reflected his deepest desire—to live eternally in this world like a true god.
Herman understood this man's mindset all too well. That was why Savitar's plan to build a particle accelerator filled him with unease.
A madman like that—
For his goal—
Wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice an entire world.
Even if this world were destroyed, a Speedster could simply escape to another world or another timeline... But Herman didn't want the reality he lived in to fall victim to a Speedster's chaos.
Honestly, in Herman's eyes, Speedsters who wielded the Speed Force were a plague. The DC Universe kept rebooting time and again, all because of those Speedsters behind the scenes.
With Speedsters running rampant, the reboots became endless—anyone could reset time, over and over again. Just how insane had it all become?
Before Herman crossed into this world, Warner Bros.—the company behind the DC Universe—had practically made reboots their brand identity, their eternal theme.
Every DC film or series barely lasted two installments before the executives found an excuse to reboot it.
The Superman franchise suffered the worst fate.
For decades, it was trapped in an endless loop of origin stories... constantly rebooted, perfectly embodying one of the DC Universe's most infamous traits.
"Maybe I should trust my instincts," Herman thought. The more he considered it, the more certain he became that Savitar—the disfigured Barry Allen—was up to no good. He made up his mind.
No matter what, the world he lived in couldn't be thrown into chaos by a reboot-obsessed maniac.
"Would you like some more curry chicken?" Gwen's mother asked as she started dividing up the remaining food. Finishing everything tonight meant no leftovers tomorrow.
"Sorry, I might need to leave early," Herman said, glancing at his watch. It was already past nine in the evening.
He had never been to Boston, so if he wanted to stop the disfigured Barry Allen from activating the Particle Accelerator, he couldn't rely on his Raven teleportation ability.
"Is it for the company's strategic planning? Don't apologize, kid—we're all family." Officer George wiped his hands and spoke kindly.
"Leaving already?"
Gwen Stacy felt a touch of reluctance. She'd shared an intimate moment with Herman on the couch earlier that evening, and now she wanted to relive that feeling after dinner.
"Gwen, you should understand your man. Career matters to men too." Gwen's mother seemed to side with Herman. She believed ambition was an excellent quality in a man—as long as he wasn't the type to neglect his family, he was reliable.
"Sorry, I'll make it up to you next time." Herman had already guessed Gwen Stacy's thoughts and kissed her cheek meaningfully.
"Mmm."
Gwen Stacy understood Herman's hint perfectly. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked incredibly happy.
At that moment, the young woman was already planning in her head—she would study new techniques online over the next few days to give Herman a "thrilling" surprise later.
"Young man, come by more often when you have time."
Gwen's family escorted Herman to the front gate. He politely declined their offer to walk him farther. Once alone on the main road, he shot up into the sky, swiftly breaking through the clouds and speeding toward Boston under the night sky.
On the roadside streets, no one witnessed his departure.
Outside the slums, most residential neighborhoods in the United States were quite different from those in China. Each community housed relatively few residents.
Gwen's family, for instance, lived comfortably. Their home was located in one of those spacious neighborhoods where only a handful of households occupied a vast area. Even in broad daylight, you could hardly see anyone on the roads.
Security wasn't a concern.
In wealthy districts, police patrols were extremely frequent. If anyone called for help, officers would arrive within minutes, guaranteed. It was a completely different world compared to chaotic places like Hell's Kitchen—quiet, sparsely populated, and remarkably safe.
That was the kind of living environment the rich enjoyed in America.
In fact, in most countries, high-rise buildings with dozens of floors were basically slums, housing people struggling at the bottom of society. Even those living in five- or six-story buildings weren't typically wealthy.
Population density played a major role in that.
In a vast and sparsely populated country like the United States, most people with modest means owned their own detached houses. The houses themselves weren't expensive, but if you could only afford the purchase price and couldn't keep up with the steep annual property taxes, things could turn tragic.
Many of the homeless people wandering the streets were pitiful souls who had lost their homes because they couldn't afford those taxes. Most of them had once lived respectable lives. But due to the nature of governmental policies, once they lost their ability to earn, even their last refuge was taken away.
Of course, none of that had anything to do with Herman.
He was part of the exploiting class. Exploiting whites or exploiting blacks—it didn't matter. As long as he wasn't exploiting his own people, he felt no shame.
...
Herman flew swiftly toward Boston.
His speed was astonishing—like a meteor streaking across the night sky, leaving behind booming shockwaves that shattered the clouds as he passed.
"Look! A shooting star!"
Someone below caught sight of him and made a wish.
As Herman drew closer to Boston...
In front of the long-anticipated Advanced Research Laboratory, an enormous crowd had gathered. Countless science enthusiasts and researchers from various fields filled the vast plaza, eagerly awaiting the moment that was said to change the world.
"Whoa—it's Dr. Barry Allen!"
"He's here!"
The crowd erupted in cheers when they saw the disfigured Barry Allen emerge from the laboratory's "restricted area" wearing a sharp suit.
To people devoted to science, appearances didn't matter. What they admired most were minds of brilliance—and in their eyes, this scarred Barry Allen embodied genius itself.
Indeed, Barry Allen had always been highly educated. And as Savitar, a Speedster capable of traversing time, he had obtained a suit of advanced armor from the future timeline of the DC Universe. Naturally, he could also have acquired future scientific knowledge far beyond their understanding.
It was like the protagonist of a historical novel who travels to ancient times, reciting poetry to show off, or performing "miracles" with simple chemistry like saltpeter freezing water.
Knowledge that might someday appear in elementary school textbooks would, in an earlier era, be hailed as a divine discovery that even Einstein would marvel at.
"Dr. Barry Allen! Excuse me—tonight's weather doesn't look great. Will the Particle Accelerator still launch as planned?"
One concerned science enthusiast shouted the question, worried that the worsening weather might ruin his chance to witness history. Above them, dark clouds were gathering, and raindrops had begun to fall.
"Of course, it won't be affected."
The disfigured Barry Allen smiled and gestured toward the security staff. A moment later, large retractable canopies rose over the open-air plaza, shielding the audience from the wind and rain.
Pitter-pat, pitter-pat…
The rain intensified, pelting the transparent canopy with sharp, rhythmic sounds that built into a pounding symphony.
Before long, lightning began to flash across the sky. The crowd cheered again at Barry Allen's "thoughtful" gesture, grateful for the cover.
"No matter the weather," Barry Allen said, his voice ringing with conviction, "tonight we stand together to witness the future. My team and I will change how the world is understood."
He swept his gaze across the plaza. Seeing the sea of faces filled with anticipation, a satisfied smile crossed his scarred features—tinged with something deeper, almost unreadable.
His tone carried a faint, expectant edge.
"We'll drive progress in physics and medicine alike. Believe me, the future will be far more extraordinary than you can imagine."
"Let your imaginations run wild. My eyes have already seen the future," he added, his voice rich with mystery.
After his impassioned speech, the atmosphere in the plaza grew feverishly excited.
Perhaps feeling his throat go dry, Barry Allen took a sip of water, then glanced at the time on his watch.
"Alright, let's count down together—and witness the future." His voice trembled slightly with anticipation.
"10!"
"9!"
"8!"
…
The crowd of science enthusiasts joined in, their voices full of energy and awe.
However—
Just as Barry Allen's hand pressed against the activation button, arcs of electricity flickering faintly across his palm with excitement...
"BOOM!"
A blinding golden light tore across the sky, turning the night as bright as day.
An immense beam of energy descended from above, striking without warning. In an instant, it annihilated the massive structure that housed the Particle Accelerator.
A thunderous explosion followed, shaking the earth itself.
The ground trembled violently as screams echoed across the plaza. For a brief, horrifying moment, it felt as if the apocalypse had come.
Even Barry Allen, the Speedster, couldn't react in time to such an abrupt catastrophe—or rather, even when he did, it was already too late.
That beam was simply too fast.
"Ahhh!"
"What happened!?"
"Damn it! An explosion! The Particle Accelerator just blew up! Was that a missile!?"
...
The moment people realized what had happened, the plaza erupted into chaos. The peaceful crowd instantly dissolved into screaming panic.
Some tried to run.
Others collapsed where they stood, too terrified to move. Amid the shrieks, cries, and desperate shouting, a few brave souls forced themselves to look up at the sky.
"My life's work! No!!!"
The disfigured Barry Allen glared upward, his eyes burning with fury. He couldn't believe it—his grand plan to become a god had been crushed before it even began.
Who?!
Who dares ruin the designs of the God of Speed?!
Are they out of their minds?!
Barry's face twisted with venomous rage as he lifted his head toward the heavens.
"Rumble…"
Thunder rolled across the sky.
Amid the blinding flashes of lightning and sheets of rain, Barry and the horrified crowd saw a figure suspended in the storm—a dark silhouette framed against the gray-black clouds, radiating sheer, overwhelming power. The figure stood tall, like a monarch gazing down upon his subjects, emanating a dreadful, divine authority.
"A farce."
Herman looked down from above, his golden eyes still glowing faintly as he surveyed the sea of people below. The light in his gaze hadn't yet faded, and everyone who dared meet it felt an almost suffocating pressure bearing down on them.
"That's… the God of Humanity—Homelander!"