As everyone knows, the one thing Speedsters fear most is an enemy who can wield freezing temperatures.
Before absolute cold, all motion slows toward stillness—approaching zero as the temperature drops.
The same law applies to the Speed Force.
Even though a Speedster can run at unimaginable speeds, extreme cold gradually suppresses their velocity until it falters completely.
And right now, Savitar was experiencing exactly that.
He tried to circulate the Speed Force within his body, but the terrifying ice beams unleashed by the Frost Giants were far beyond anything most ice-based metahumans in the DC universe could produce.
In an instant, Savitar was frozen solid. His body could no longer vibrate fast enough to counteract the freezing impact of the ice.
It was inevitable.
After all, the Frost Giants whose souls Herman had bound were not ordinary warriors—they were the elite of their kind. Among them was even a quasi–Sky Father–level Frost Giant King.
Even with his body pushed to its limits by drugs and desperation, Savitar couldn't transform into pure lightning when faced with an element that so naturally countered him.
And to make matters worse, Herman had infused the ice with the chilling power of the [Realm of the Dead]. The electric arcs of Speed Force surging across Savitar's body froze solid in an instant, locked in place like veins of crystal.
Rain continued to pour relentlessly from the sky. Herman stood beneath the downpour, gazing at the frozen statue before him. Through the Savitar Armor, he could sense the disfigured Barry Allen's life force slowly fading—his body succumbing to the brutal cold. Even Speedsters, for all their speed, were never built to withstand absolute zero.
"Snap."
Herman snapped his fingers.
The Frost Giants—those transparent, spectral figures—vanished, their souls pulled back into the [Realm of the Dead] to resume their eternal torment.
Whenever Herman had no need for them, every soul he'd slain would sink back into that dark realm, endlessly decaying, fueling his power with death itself. And now, the realm was about to gain yet another soul.
However...
"The Speed Force doesn't choose the dead. Without it, you have no place in my realm."
That was why Herman didn't let Savitar die. He had no interest in the disfigured Barry Allen's ordinary, powerless soul.
Unlike beings such as the Frost Giants, whose very essence brimmed with strength, a Speedster's death stripped them of the Speed Force's favor, leaving only a mundane spirit behind.
The Speed Force and the Speedster were two distinct entities. Only together did they become something extraordinary.
That was why, in the DC universe, whenever the Flash's soul was swapped into another body, he could no longer wield the Speed Force.
The Speed Force's blessing was the sole source of a Speedster's power. In a sense, Speedsters were even weaker than those born with genetic mutations—their strength wasn't their own.
"I…"
Inside the Savitar Armor, the disfigured Barry Allen teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. His mind was slipping into darkness, yet he fought desperately to stay awake—to resist the inevitable.
But his vision was dimming fast. Through the haze of his fading sight, he could barely make out the figure in the black cloak—Herman—walking toward him.
Crash.
The frozen shell around him shattered as Herman reached out. He tore the Savitar Armor from the surrounding ice and lifted it effortlessly into the air.
Even with the ice gone, the bone-chilling cold still clung to the armor, seeping deep into the flesh of the man trapped within.
"I have an idea."
Herman's hand clamped around the armor's neck. Power surged through his arm as his muscles tensed, rippling with terrifying force.
"Hm? Tougher than I expected."
He realized the armor had no visible seams or joints. Even the strength that could shatter asteroids couldn't pry it apart. Future technology from the DC universe truly lived up to its reputation for impossible design.
"A perfect little turtle shell."
Though he couldn't remove the armor, the disfigured Barry Allen inside felt no relief. His eyelids were heavy, his thoughts sluggish. He could barely comprehend what Herman intended to do next.
Even if he did nothing, death would claim him soon enough.
A hollow despair filled his chest. How could this man—this supposed Superman—be so powerful? And what were those translucent creatures capable of wielding such devastating cold?
Superman shouldn't have that kind of power.
Unless…
Unless this universe's Superman had the ability to absorb the powers of others.
Perhaps that was why this world lacked so many familiar heroes—because this dark version of Superman had already wiped them out, consuming their strength for himself.
The thought took root in Barry's mind, a spark of realization dimming into dread.
But he was too far gone to even feel fear anymore.
He barely noticed as Herman hurled him down to the ground like a discarded toy.
"Even the hardest alloy can't withstand a certain kind of power..."
From Herman's body surged countless wisps of death energy, invisible to the naked eye.
They howled as they wrapped around the Savitar Armor, seeping into its surface. In moments, the once unbreakable metal—so durable that even Herman himself couldn't dent it—began to corrode and decay.
Death doesn't only claim the living.
Even objects have their moment of ruin.
Now, the Savitar Armor was succumbing to that inevitable decay, large patches of its once-gleaming surface eaten away, turning to rust beneath the creeping death energy.
Clatter—
This time, Herman effortlessly tore through the rotted alloy, pulling the disfigured Barry Allen from inside the armor.
As for the suit—now reduced to a lifeless, motionless heap after losing its control system—Herman simply stored it away into his dimensional space.
The material, impervious even to his own strength, was far too valuable to destroy. That was why he'd only corroded a small section of it.
The rest, he could take back for research.
Herman wasn't exactly a scientist himself, but he knew where to find the best minds in the field.
And if all else failed... Tony Stark was always an option.
"How do you feel now? Still planning to replace me? Still dreaming of your grand 'Death of Superman' moment?"
Herman drew the lingering cold energy out of the disfigured Barry's body, allowing him to breathe again.
Barry instantly felt more lucid. Realizing Herman was holding him suspended in midair, his first instinct was to summon the Speed Force.
Electric arcs flickered across his skin—but within seconds, his expression shifted from defiance to alarm.
His body wouldn't move. He couldn't vibrate.
"What's… happening!?"
Though the freezing chill had faded, Barry could feel another force binding him—something invisible yet unyielding.
"Without that armor's amplification, it seems you're nothing more than an ordinary Speedster."
Herman's telekinesis wrapped around him like an unbreakable vice.
Before, it had barely affected Savitar—the armor's enhancements had amplified Barry's power dozens of times over. Now, stripped of it, he was helpless.
"You… monster…" Barry rasped, every word trembling with exhaustion. His eyes were hollow, fixed on Herman, who held him aloft as if he weighed nothing.
The pressure emanating from Herman was suffocating. Those eyes—those bottomless black eyes—seethed with a power that felt alive, something ancient and predatory swirling within them.
Just meeting his gaze made Barry's instincts scream in terror. It was the primal fear of death itself—a chill that reached straight into the soul.
He didn't even dare to imagine anymore.
How many powers had this man absorbed? How many beings had he consumed to become what he was now?
Yes—Barry was certain of it.
This was a universe ruled by an evil Superman.
A hollow despair filled his chest. He had thought he'd come to a new world—a paradise of opportunity. Never had he imagined his journey would end like this.
"Kill me!"
Barry's voice cracked as he glared at Herman, desperate to preserve the last shreds of his dignity. He'd rather die than suffer more humiliation.
"Kill you?" Herman's lips curved slightly. "Of course… as you wish."
Death energy surged around his hand, which pierced straight through Barry's chest.
To Herman, the Speedster's flesh felt as soft as tofu—fragile, insignificant.
"But sometimes," Herman said softly, his voice almost amused, "death doesn't mean release."
Barry's eyes widened. And then—
"AAAHHH!"
A scream of pure agony tore from his throat.
He didn't pass out. His heart still beat weakly in his chest. As Herman had said—death had not come to claim him.
"What's… what's happening to me?!" Barry gasped, panic consuming his voice. His mind felt sharper than ever—unnaturally clear, painfully aware.
This wasn't the brief lucidity before death. He could feel Herman's hand still buried in his chest—moving.
"AAAHHHHH!"
His scream grew hoarse, raw with terror and pain.
He felt his heart being seized—then ripped free, torn from his chest in one brutal motion.
Every nerve in his body lit up in unbearable pain, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably, but even that agony couldn't drown out the greater fear rising inside him.
The fear of what Herman was about to do next.
"That... that's my heart!"
The disfigured Barry Allen stared in horror at Herman's blood-soaked hand—clutching a still-beating heart. Blood dripped down his fingers, tracing the grooves of his palm before splattering onto the ground below.
"What... what have you done to me?!"
He lowered his gaze in disbelief, seeing the gaping hollow in his own chest. A strangled scream of terror tore from his throat.
"Monster! Demon! What are you?! My heart... my heart..."
Everything before him defied comprehension.
A man without a heart—shouldn't that mean instant death?
And yet here he was.
Though he could no longer feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, his consciousness was sharper than ever before. That only made the pain clearer—excruciatingly, vividly real.
His very understanding of life and death was unraveling... along with a pain so intense it felt as if his chest were being ripped apart from the inside.
Quite literally, a heartbreak in every sense.
His mind teetered on the brink of collapse.
"I told you," Herman said calmly, ignoring Barry's screams, "I had an idea."
He released his grip, but Barry didn't fall—the disfigured Speedster remained suspended in midair, trapped by invisible telekinetic force.
"I can't have you losing the soul that carries the Speed Force," Herman continued, his eyes brimming with endless, pulsing death energy. "So I'll need to put in a little extra effort."
The supreme power of law and dominion flowed from him, and intricate, glowing sigils of death took shape around the heart in his hand—runes and shackles of arcane rule that bound even the soul.
In that instant, the authority of the [Lord of the Dead] manifested fully. The disfigured Barry Allen convulsed, feeling a sharp, searing pain that pierced straight into the core of his spirit.
"Kill me!"
"Please—just kill me!"
Barry begged, trembling, unable to comprehend what Herman was doing. He only wanted this nightmare to end.
"You're already dead."
Herman stepped closer, holding the "modified" heart before Barry's lifeless eyes, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
"It's just that, in my domain... death carries many meanings. It won't bring you peace. Quite the opposite—death is merely the beginning of your service to me."
The heart in Herman's hand continued to beat, though each pulse expelled a dark red mist that filled the air with a thick, metallic stench.
Soon, the heart blackened—shriveling like a piece of dried meat. Yet it still throbbed rhythmically, stubbornly alive.
"Tell me... have you ever heard of the Black Flash?"
Herman's tone was almost casual, but the words froze Barry's very soul.
As a Speedster, he knew exactly what that meant.
No... it couldn't be...
Barry's wide eyes locked on the shriveled heart in Herman's hand, and dread clawed at his mind.
Impossible.
This evil version of Superman couldn't possibly do that.
And yet—reason couldn't stop the terror filling the hollow where his heart once was.
He told himself it was impossible... and yet, every instinct screamed otherwise. As Herman drew closer, Barry felt it—the same heartbeat, his own heartbeat, radiating from the blackened heart.
"No!"
His voice broke into a hoarse, guttural roar. He thrashed helplessly in the air, panic flooding his mind.
"Please! Don't do this to me!"
But his pleas went unanswered. Herman pressed the withered heart back into his chest.
It connected seamlessly with his body, fusing into his veins, resuming its work.
But the blood it pumped was no longer red. The "purified" blood that flowed through him now shimmered with a dark, unnatural hue—carrying a force that seeped through every cell, reshaping him from within.
"AAAH!"
Barry screamed again, wracked with unbearable pain. Herman released his telekinetic hold, yet Barry did not fall.
"No! No, this isn't supposed to be my fate! It's not—!"
Blood mist burst from his pores, filling the air around him.
Under the influence of the corrupted heart, his body began to change rapidly. The moisture in his flesh evaporated in seconds.
"AAAHHHHH!!"
His body shriveled and twisted, and arcs of black lightning—still carrying the mark of the Speed Force—crackled across his decaying skin.
The arcs grew thicker, wilder.
His already deformed face contorted into something monstrous, skeletal—like a mummified corpse with skin stretched tight over bone and exposed teeth.
The aura of the living faded swiftly, replaced by the cold, decaying essence of the dead.
Yes—Herman had used his [Lord of the Dead] authority to create a living undead.
A body still bound to life—yet claimed by death.
Thus, the Speed Force would not abandon him.
"From this day forward," Herman said softly, gazing upon his creation, "you are my Black Flash."
Before him stood the transformed Speedster—his humanity gone, replaced by the unholy glow of black lightning that danced across his corpse-like frame.
Herman looked upon him with satisfaction.
Like the Frost Giants before him, the disfigured Barry Allen—now reborn as Black Flash—would suffer eternal servitude.
Forever bound to the will of Herman Chu.
The herald of his command...
The Death Speedster.