Convergence

Kazuma had seen many stupid things in his lifetime.

He had watched Aqua drown in a shallow puddle. He had witnessed Megumin faint immediately after blowing things up. He had survived Darkness deliberately throwing herself into the path of every monster that had ever existed.

But this?

This was next-level idiocy.

Because right now Batman was charging directly at Sauron.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU IDIOT?!" Kazuma screamed.

But it was too late.

Sauron, standing like an unstoppable force of pure evil, barely seemed interested in the incoming attack. His burning eyes flickered as Batman threw a batarang—

And then it happened.

Sauron moved so fast Kazuma barely saw it. One second, Batman was leaping forward, ready to land some brilliant tactical strike, and the next?

Sauron’s mace came down.

CRACK.

Kazuma flinched.

Batman was gone.

Or rather—he was everywhere now. His entire body shattered like glass, his armor crumpling inward, his limbs torn apart mid-air before his skull exploded on impact.

Kazuma gulped.

" Welp. Didn’t see that coming. "

At the same time, Perrin and Frankenstein’s Monster had also charged.

For a moment it almost looked like they were doing something.

Perrin, in his wolf-like rage, grabbed Sauron’s arm, his golden eyes flashing with primal fury.

Frankenstein’s Monster clamped his massive, stitched hands onto Sauron’s armor, holding him in place with monstrous strength.

For a brief, beautiful moment it looked like they had a chance.

Then Sauron ripped Perrin’s arms off like he was plucking petals off a flower.

Perrin let out a single choked gasp, blood spraying everywhere, before Sauron kicked him so hard his entire chest collapsed inward.

His lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Frankenstein’s Monster let out a defiant roar—only for Sauron to grab his head with one hand and squeeze.

A disgusting wet crunch echoed through the room.

The monster was no more.

Kazuma stared.

His entire team was being reduced to meat chunks in real-time.

He turned his head slowly toward Aqua.

"Aqua. Sweetheart. We need to leave."

Aqua, still sobbing over Tyrion’s death, sniffled. "But—But we can still fight—!"

Kazuma didn’t let her finish. He grabbed her by the collar and yanked her with him.

Then, he grabbed Wednesday Addams by the wrist.

The goth girl barely reacted, simply raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"SHUT UP, WE’RE LEAVING!" Kazuma shrieked, yanking both women toward the exit.

"But I want to see how this ends," Wednesday said, completely unconcerned by the carnage.

Kazuma didn’t stop running. "IT ENDS WITH ALL OF US DYING!"

And with that Kazuma fled the chamber.

Thor had seen many battlefields, but this was a slaughter.

The bodies of warriors—both human and monster—were scattered across the blood-soaked stone. Sauron stood amidst the carnage, his dark presence making the very air feel heavy.

Thor gritted his teeth.

Kazuma had chosen the right option.

The fool had run away, saving the women from an inevitable fate.

Thor did not blame him.

He envied him.

Because Thor did not run.

He fought.

Thor gripped Mjolnir tightly, lightning crackling around his form.

He turned to his last remaining ally in the room—Dracula.

"We must strike together," Thor said. "If we wish to stand a chance—"

Dracula simply smiled.

Then he stepped toward Sauron’s side.

Thor’s blood ran cold.

"Ah," Dracula said, his voice silk and poison, "but why should I fight against such glorious power?"

Thor’s grip tightened.

"You would betray us?"

Dracula chuckled. "Betray? No, no, no. I am simply… choosing the winning side."

Sauron turned his head slightly, as if only mildly acknowledging Dracula’s presence.

Dracula bowed slightly, then looked toward Thor.

"This is your last chance, Thunderer. Kneel."

Thor growled.

Lightning exploded around him, his eyes glowing white with divine fury.

He raised Mjolnir high.

"Then I shall carve my answer into your bones, traitor!"

Thor charged forward, ready to fight both Dracula and Sauron in the butchered remains of the bloody room.

The battle raged on beneath the towering trees of the jungle.

Jon Snow and Uhtred of Bebbanburg stood shoulder to shoulder, their blades flashing as they led their Viking warriors against the charging ape army.

Steel clashed against crude weapons, fur and flesh met iron and fury, and the jungle was filled with the sounds of screaming, snarling, and dying.

Jon swung Longclaw with lethal precision, cutting down an ape mid-leap before blocking an overhead strike from another.

Uhtred, beside him, laughed madly as he buried his axe into an ape’s chest, kicking the body aside and spinning to face the next attacker.

"Good fight, Snow!" he bellowed. "You might actually have Viking blood in you!"

Jon gritted his teeth. "I don’t have time for flattery, Uhtred!"

Then a cry for help.

"Yes! More! Harder! Oh, gods, punish me!"

Uhtred froze.

Jon froze.

A giant ape had knocked Darkness into the mud, towering over her, ready to crush her skull with a massive stone club.

Uhtred reacted instantly, barreling forward like a berserker, grabbing Darkness by the waist, and yanking her out of harm’s way at the last second.

He threw her over his shoulder and rolled them both to safety, landing in the mud with a gruff grunt.

Darkness, blinking up at him, turned scarlet.

"I—You—You just—You saved me," she breathed.

Uhtred smirked. "Aye. Wouldn’t let a woman die in battle if I can help it."

Darkness, visibly shaking, grabbed his armor-clad arm and bit her lip.

"…Marry me," she blurted.

Uhtred blinked. "What?"

Jon, slicing through an ape, looked over. "What?!"

Darkness clung to Uhtred’s arm like a damsel in distress. "Take me! Make me yours! You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of!"

Uhtred, completely perplexed, awkwardly tried to pry her off. "I—uh—I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to, but—"

Darkness giggled. "Oh, you’ll learn soon enough."

Jon rolled his eyes and went back to fighting.

Nearby, Tarzan and Caesar were locked in a savage duel.

Caesar, wielding a crude spear, lunged forward with impressive speed—

But Tarzan, equally fast, ducked low and grappled him, sending them both tumbling into the underbrush.

Fists flew. Bones cracked. Blood dripped into the soil.

The two kings of the wild battled with tooth, nail, and instinct.

Neither would yield.

Meanwhile Shrek and King Kong were rampaging through the battlefield in the most chaotic, ridiculous way possible.

At one point Shrek grabbed an ape by the legs, spun in place like a discus thrower, and LAUNCHED the poor creature into a Starfighter overhead.

The ship spun out of control and exploded.

King Kong picked up two apes and smashed them together like cymbals before grabbing an entire TIE Fighter out of mid-air and slamming it into a tree.

Shrek, panting, looked up at the giant gorilla and gave him a thumbs-up.

"Nice one, big guy."

Kong nodded approvingly.

Then reality broke.

Rand al’Thor stood alone.

His eyes blazed like twin suns.

The True Power surged through him, flowing into Callandor, the legendary crystal sword.

His mind fractured, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

And then he unleashed Balefire.

A torrential column of light erupted from his blade, searing through the jungle like a divine scythe, burning everything in its path completely out of existence.

The entire Star Wars fleet vanished instantly.

Every ship. Every soldier. Every structure.

Not destroyed.

Erased.

As if they had never existed.

And with them?

Anakin Skywalker.

Reality wavered, flickering violently as Anakin—who had already erased Darth Vader once before—was wiped from time itself.

Every event tied to him?

Undone.

From the sky, Superman and Iron Man witnessed it all.

They had seen devastation. They had seen power.

But this?

Iron Man hovered beside Superman, his HUD flickering with errors as his suit struggled to comprehend what was happening.

"Uh… Clark?"

Superman didn’t respond.

His enhanced vision was locked onto Rand al’Thor, who stood alone, wreathed in flames, screaming in agony as reality shattered around him.

The forest flickered in and out of existence.

The sky turned black.

Time itself rebelled.

Rand’s voice was a broken roar, filled with pain and power.

He was losing control.

And nothing could stop it.

Indiana Jones had seen some wild things in his lifetime.

He had outrun boulders, fought off cultists, punched Nazis, and been betrayed more times than he could count.

But this was something else entirely.

He tumbled through the burning jungle, barely dodging a Viking’s axe before rolling into the dirt. Blaster fire screeched overhead, and he narrowly avoided being crushed by an ape’s massive foot.

And then reality cracked open.

Indy’s breath hitched as the world around him glitched like an old film reel, flickering between shifting timelines at random.

The Viking warrior in front of him blinked—then became a Greek hoplite, his axe replaced by a bronze spear and shield.

The ape snarling at his back suddenly wore blue Civil War garb, its massive fists gripping a musket.

The jungle?

Gone.

Instead, Indy found himself in the midst of the Battle of Troy, the massive walls of the ancient city rising above him as Achilles and Hector clashed nearby, their swords singing through the air.

Indy barely had time to react before the timeline shifted again.

Suddenly, he was in the American Civil War, ducking behind a fallen cannon as Union and Confederate soldiers screamed and charged past him, musket fire erupting around him in all directions.

"OH, COME ON!" Indy shouted, his hat barely staying on his head as he dove out of the way of a passing cavalry charge.

Another flicker.

Now the Mongol Horde roared across an open field, arrows blotting out the sky as Genghis Khan’s forces stormed a burning village.

Indy blinked.

Another flicker.

Samurai.

Another flicker.

Napoleon leading his men into battle.

Another flicker.

World War II bombers screaming overhead.

The timeline kept jumping, and Indy?

Indy was just trying to stay alive.

Finally, with a final lurch, time seemed to snap back into place, and Indy landed hard on the jungle floor.

Gasping for breath, he gritted his teeth and sat up.

The battle around him was still raging—Vikings and apes clashing, warriors screaming, but it all seemed a little more stable now.

Indy exhaled sharply and adjusted his fedora.

"Okay," he muttered. "I think I just saw the entire history of war in ten seconds."

Then he looked up.

And saw Rand al’Thor, glowing with balefire, screaming as reality continued to tear apart.

Indy groaned.

"This day just keeps getting better."

Jon Snow had always been a man of two worlds.

A bastard of Winterfell, but raised among nobles. A sworn brother of the Night’s Watch, but born of Stark blood. A leader of the Free Folk, yet once their enemy.

He thought he had seen everything.

But this was something beyond madness.

Steel clashed against steel as Jon buried Longclaw into an ape warrior’s chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the jungle burned around him.

And then the world shifted.

The ape in front of him flickered, and suddenly, it wasn’t an ape anymore.

It was a scarred warrior in brown and tan cadin’sor, his veil up, his spear flashing toward Jon’s throat.

Jon barely parried the sudden, precise thrust, his heart lurching as he realized—

He was in the Aiel War.

The jungle was gone.

Instead, the sands of the Aiel Waste stretched for miles. Hundreds of warriors rushed past him, their spears glinting in the harsh sun, their movements fluid, deadly, inhumanly fast.

Jon stumbled, his mind reeling.

Then another shift.

Suddenly, he was no longer in the Aiel War.

A monstrous roar filled the air, and Jon found himself standing atop a blood-slicked wall, his breath visible in the freezing air.

Below?

K’Chain Che’Malle—reptilian horrors that defied reason—ripped through the ranks of the Grey Swords, their massive, bladed tails severing men in half.

To his right?

A T’lan Imass, little more than ancient bones held together by magic, silently fought beside him, cleaving through the enemy with a sword thousands of years old.

Jon gasped, gripping Longclaw.

What—?

Then another shift.

Jon barely had time to process the horror of Capustan before the world changed again.

He was no longer surrounded by monstrous lizard-warriors.

Now the battle was eerily familiar.

The jungle had become a dark, misty battlefield, surrounded by ancient trees and ghostly warriors.

Jon turned—

And froze.

The creatures facing him weren’t apes anymore.

They were tall, ethereal beings, their inhumanly pale faces and glowing eyes filled with an eerie, cold purpose.

They looked almost exactly like the White Walkers.

They were the Sithi, locked in their ancient war against the Storm King’s armies.

Jon’s stomach twisted.

Was he fighting the past? Or the future?

Then?

Another shift.

The air turned frigid.

The ghostly Sithi warriors became the true Others—White Walkers standing in eerie silence, their ice-forged blades reflecting the moonlight.

Jon felt his breath catch in his throat.

This was his battle.

The one he had always feared.

The one he knew was coming.

The dead rose from the snow, their blue eyes hollow and merciless.

Jon gripped Longclaw, his hands trembling.

It was happening.

The war for the world.

And then a voice whispered through the cold.

"Jon Snow… you do not belong here."

Jon gasped—

And then the world snapped back to the jungle.

The apes were back.

The jungle was burning.

And Jon?

Jon screamed.

His mind broke beneath the weight of war across all time, the sheer madness of shifting realities crashing over him like a tidal wave.

The White Walkers, the Sithi, the K’Chain Che’Malle, the Aiel warriors—they were all still there, just beneath the surface of his mind.

Jon’s vision blurred as he waded into the enemy ranks, his sword a whirlwind of steel and fury.

There was no more strategy.

No more calm, collected leadership.

There was only chaos.

Only blood.

Jon Snow fought like a man possessed, slashing, stabbing, cutting through the ape army with a maelstrom of violence, his body moving on instinct, on rage, on madness.

Reality flickered around him.

The battlefield was everything at once—a thousand wars, a thousand battles, all colliding together.

And at the center of it all?

Jon Snow, drowning in reality itself.

Rand al’Thor was screaming.

It wasn’t a scream of pain or fear—no, this was something far worse.

It was the scream of a man whose mind had shattered, who had seen too much, felt too much, and was losing himself to the void.

The world cracked around him, shattering like glass caught in a storm, and reality itself began to spiral into oblivion.

Superman knew he had to stop this.

Now.

Superman rocketed through the burning sky, his cape billowing behind him as he charged toward Rand, determination burning in his eyes.

"Clark, WAIT—!"

Iron Man tried to keep up, repulsors flaring as he streaked behind him, but Superman was too fast, too focused.

He reached out, ready to grab the Dragon Reborn, ready to stop him before he could—

Rand turned.

And laughed.

His eyes burned with something beyond madness, beyond reason—something primal, cosmic, destructive.

"You want to stop me, Kryptonian?" Rand’s voice echoed through time itself. "Then let’s see if you can even find me."

With a flick of his wrist, reality twisted.

And suddenly—

Superman and Iron Man were gone.

The first thing Superman saw was fire.

The first thing Iron Man saw was a medieval knight swinging a massive sword at his face.

The two barely had time to react before they were flung into battle after battle, world after world, universe after universe.

Superman landed hard, dirt and stone shattering beneath him.

He looked up—

And saw thousands of Uruk-hai storming the fortress walls, their black armor gleaming under the stormy sky.

"Is that an ORC?!" Iron Man shouted, blasting an Uruk-hai off the ramparts before it could stab him.

Superman gritted his teeth, ready to fight—

But before he could even move, the world shifted again.

Blaster fire exploded around them as clone troopers and droids clashed across a ruined cityscape.

Superman ducked as an AT-AT walker lumbered past, its turret firing into the chaos.

Iron Man, stunned, barely dodged a lightsaber swing from a passing Jedi.

"OH, COME ON!" Tony yelled. "I LITERALLY JUST LEFT A WAR LIKE THIS!"

Flicker.

Massive Autobots and Decepticons fought in a war-torn city of metal, the sky filled with exploding starships and raining debris.

Iron Man gawked as Optimus Prime himself charged past, clashing with Megatron in a battle of steel titans.

Superman turned to Iron Man. "Okay, this is getting—"

Flicker.

Superman and Iron Man slammed into a hellish battlefield, flames roaring around them as demons shrieked and lunged forward.

A massive, armored warrior with a green visor turned to look at them.

He nodded once.

Then he pulled out a shotgun.

Superman barely had time to react before the Doom Slayer leapt into battle, ripping a demon in half with his bare hands.

Iron Man, visibly shaken, muttered, "I don’t like it here. I really don’t like it here."

Flicker.

Superman landed in the middle of a chaotic medieval battle, shields clashing and swords hacking through flesh.

He turned—

And saw Jon Snow fighting for his life amidst a mountain of bodies.

Superman’s eyes widened. "Wait—"

Flicker.

Iron Man froze in place.

Because he was staring at himself.

No—

He was staring at another Tony Stark, standing on a ruined battlefield, the Infinity Gauntlet in his hands.

"I… am… Iron Man," the other Tony whispered.

Snap.

The world flickered again.

They crashed through—

A battle in feudal Japan with Samurai fighting in the rain.

A futuristic war on a dying planet between aliens and humans.

A kaiju battle with Godzilla roaring in the distance.

The fall of Camelot as Mordred slays King Arthur.

Superman fought to regain control, his mind reeling from the chaos.

Superman gritted his teeth.

"No. NO."

He pushed forward, trying to fly back to his own world.

But Rand wasn’t letting him go.

With one last burst of insane power, Rand shoved Superman into every reality at once.

A thousand wars. A thousand battles.

Superman’s mind tore apart at the edges.

It was too much.

And then silence.

Superman opened his eyes.

He was back in the jungle.

Iron Man?

Tony lay unconscious, his armor sparking, his mind shattered from the trip.

Superman’s fists clenched.

He stared at Rand, who was still laughing, still tearing reality apart.

Clark felt something he rarely ever felt.

Fear.

Because for the first time in his life he was facing a man who could break the universe itself.

And Superman had no idea how to stop him.