The celebration ground fell into an awkward silence.
Noah Vale stood there, calm as ever, as if everything he'd just said was the most reasonable thing in the world.
No one knew how to respond.
The problem was… he looked like he was on humanity's side.
He had appeared when the war was at its worst.
He had crushed both the Amazons and Atlantis without effort.
He had ended the conflict in a single stroke.
Anyone watching would assume he was humanity's champion.
But Noah didn't see it that way.
He wasn't standing with humanity.
He wasn't standing with anyone.
If anything, he stood above it all.
His decisions weren't driven by loyalty to nations, species, or alliances. He had stepped in because he chose to. Because, for his own reasons, he wanted the war to end.
And now that it was over, he had no intention of letting one side turn his intervention into a weapon against the other.
He wasn't here to help the strong crush the weak.
He was here to stop the fight.
Nothing more.
Noah's gaze settled on Victor Stone.
"I've made myself clear," he said. "This is about peace. That's it."
The silence stretched.
Around them, the gathered representatives looked like they'd just watched their best plan fall apart in real time.
They had expected victory.
Real victory.
The kind that came with spoils—technology, resources, leverage over former enemies.
Instead, they were being handed… balance.
It wasn't what they wanted.
Not even close.
Arthur and Diana, on the other hand, exchanged a glance.
Relief flickered beneath their exhaustion.
They had been ready to sign away everything.
Now… they didn't have to.
Victor cleared his throat, stepping in to smooth things over.
"Understood," he said. "We'll revise the agreement. Equal terms. Mutual withdrawal. A proper peace treaty."
Then he added, more casually, "By the way—Barry's here. We brought him in case you wanted to speak with him."
Noah nodded once.
"Good."
With that, he turned and left the platform, guided away by staff.
The moment he was gone, the atmosphere changed.
The smiles vanished.
Voices dropped.
Frustration crept in.
Some of the representatives exchanged looks that said more than words ever could.
If he leaves…
Do we still have to follow this?
The thought lingered in the air, unspoken but obvious.
Elsewhere, in a quiet lounge, Barry Allen waited.
The moment the door opened, he looked up.
Noah stepped inside.
"That was fast," Barry said, standing up. "Everything's really over?"
Noah gave a small nod.
"I handled it."
Barry let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Yeah… I noticed."
Noah didn't linger.
"I kept my promise," he said. "The timeline stays intact. Don't mess with it again."
Barry rubbed the back of his neck.
"…Right."
Noah turned toward the door.
"Guess this is it, then?" Barry asked. "You're leaving already?"
Noah glanced back at him.
"There's nothing keeping me here," he said. "No reason to stay."
Barry didn't have a response to that.
After a brief pause, Noah added, almost as an afterthought:
"You'll probably connect with the Speed Force soon. That's fine."
Barry blinked.
"…That's a little ominous."
"Just don't start jumping through time again," Noah said. "You've seen how that goes."
Barry winced.
"Fair."
Noah gave a small nod.
"Take care."
Then he was gone.
No flash.
No sound.
Just… gone.
Barry stared at the empty space for a long moment.
Then reality caught up with him.
"…Right," he muttered.
Now he had to explain all of this to everyone else.
That was going to be a nightmare.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
As he looked down, something caught his eye.
A book sat on the table.
He was sure it hadn't been there before.
Frowning, he picked it up.
The cover was simple.
"Universal Training Method 4.0"
Barry flipped it open.
At first, it looked like a dense collection of techniques—ways to push the body beyond normal limits, ways to refine control over energy and motion.
Then he turned another page.
And froze.
His heartbeat spiked.
There, outlined in clear terms, was something impossible.
A method… to bring someone back.
Not easily.
Not cheaply.
But possible.
Barry's hands started to shake.
His father.
Bruce.
The millions lost across the war.
For the first time, hope—real, terrifying hope—flickered to life.
Back in New York, Noah reappeared inside his villa.
The place was quiet.
Empty.
Camilla and the others weren't around. They had their own lives, their own routines. They didn't exist just to wait for him.
Noah walked to the window, parting the blinds slightly.
Below, the city moved in steady rhythm.
But there was something new.
On certain streets, people wore collars around their necks—sleek, metallic devices that stood out against normal life.
A control system.
New York was the first test city.
Soon, it would spread.
City by city.
Until it covered the entire planet.
Noah scratched the side of his head, frowning slightly.
For the first time in a while…
He was bored.
And that was a problem.
Most stories built toward conflict.
Toward escalation.
But he had already bulldozed through everything.
Too fast. Too thoroughly.
The usual chain of events had collapsed.
There were no rising threats. No looming crises.
Even the kind of chaos that once defined the world had… quieted.
It left him with nothing to do.
He watched the streets for a while longer.
People living their lives.
No war.
No panic.
No urgency.
Just… peace.
"…Well," he muttered.
"That won't do."
Ten minutes later.
Inside the White House, Tony Stark's phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID—and immediately straightened.
"Speak of the devil," he muttered.
Nearby, his counterpart from another timeline looked over, curious.
Tony answered.
"Noah," he said. "What's up?"
On the other end, Noah's voice came through, relaxed to the point of laziness.
"Tony… I'm bored."
Tony blinked.
"…That's never a good sign."
Noah continued, as if discussing the weather.
"How's your prison population these days?"
A pause.
"Got enough criminals stocked up?"