There's a pause. A moment of caution to not let euphoria from the antidepressant nature of Soul Essence consume him. It's far too easy to get swept up in the adrenaline and bubbling joy it gives, and right now a serious situation such as this calls for a clear mind and careful handling. Once he's mentally calm, his expression softens, and in the next instance, he's tilting his head back to look skyward and slightly bending his knees. Then? He takes off within a nanosecond. There one moment, then completely gone without a physical trace. The only evidence of his existence left behind is the lightning-like crackle of him taking off.
He arrives at the moon and greatly decreases his speed just as he's five feet away from its ashen surface, gently touching down just as Kronos is proceeding to sit up within that massive crater. The deathly chill of space is no danger to the two, but even they MUST hold their breath where no oxygen exists. Fortunately for them, they won't be off Earth for too long. Soon Kronos - the old man who's layer of 2nd stone-like skin is nearly completely gone - spots Tyson standing in the distance and up near the cliff of the massive crater. The young man who’s eyes are still a rich shade of gold, and body still wearing that thick low opacity sunny aura. They remain in place. Staring silently, knowing full well that this fight is over. Patient and confident, Tyson waits for the other to make a move of some sort. The old man, who's wrinkly face and white mane of hair is fully visible, does make. Not one of aggression, but retreating. Kronos mouths several words before a sudden gust of wind begins blowing by, seemingly reducing the old man's body to specks and carrying them away like ashes in a breeze. Then, the young man was alone. Blinking in confusion as he tries to make sense of the moment.
Thinking to himself that there's nothing more that he can do, decides to head back. The aura around him begins to calm, but it's an ability he can't quite will away so easily. It dwindles on its own when left in peace.
As he flies toward Earth, he coincidentally heads off just as two people make THEIR way to the moon, and he's left staring dumbfoundedly upon noticing who the two are. Allen The Alien & Invincible. It's nothing that's made a big deal of, but the two also look surprised to see someone out in space. There's a bit of an awkward moment of the two parties waving friendly at one another before carrying on. By the time Tyson reenters Earth's sky, his eyes finally fade back into their usual neon jade color.
“Invincible… So… this isn't simply the world of Marvel Comics. Did he combine all of my comics? Is Batman here, too?” Tyson ponders to himself. There's an urge to explore and find answers, but he decides to head hack to suburban area to look for any potential survivors. A task he goes onto spare 2 hours of his time to fulfill.
Those hours pass and the grim realization that no one was left upon Kronos’ destructive arrival saps his mood. The young man retrieves his bag of belongings and finds somewhere to rest his head as sunset settles in. He finds a spot atop of a business building to lay down while resting his head atop of his wide bag. Staring up at the orangey sky, he spends an abundance of time thinking about his situation. How he got here, what he'll do to adapt, and even how long he'll be stuck in a world that's not his. He does so until sleep sneaks up on him and eases his eyes shut.
“Upon the fleeting of your life light, to me, your home, you shall return.” Words spoken as darkness overtakes the vision of a fallen hero, who's radiant gold blood puddles upon the ground like shimmering liquid. His passing sees to it that his flesh rapidly decades, his vibrant green eyes dim to a pair of onyx pearls, and his clothes lay in depression upon his thinning corpse. He fades until he's mostly bones, and even further seconds later until even his skeleton crumbles to dust and spills like sand. This was not true death, but instead a ritual of a spell. Baulder's mother was not only one with a protective and cautious mind. The price to be paid was this young man being denied passage to Valhalla - the great hall of deceased warriors to feast on the finest banquet and battles to ever be experienced.
Instead, the remnants of that heroic young man begins gathering with an isolated section of Niflheim, spilling into an oval pool of icy lava-like liquid that's twice as deadly as its melting hot counter-part.
For a year, the body of Hel's son gradually rebuilds anew inside that body of cyan lava. A year is what it takes to restore him, free of the gruesome head-splitting injury that slayed him.
Upon the anniversary of his day of death, the young man rises put of that gooey liquid, gasping and bare from head to toe. A familiar environment that could never feel like home to anyone of a sane mind greets his eyes. The dim and cavern-like atmosphere illuminated by torches host emerald flames and the ever brilliant radiance of the river of souls in the distance. He sits in place and wonders how did he end up here yet again. Just a voice makes itself heard.
“Welcome home, my dear child…” A familiar voice greets Tyson. This entire moment seems like an exact replicany of that dreadful day of his life three years ago, but this time when he turns toward the source of the voice? He sees mother again, but with a face blackened out by either the shadows of her long, raven cascading hair or some unnatural means. All that he can make out on her face are the set of fiery green eyes staring down at him from where she stands.
“...How? How did I end up here?” He questions, brows furrowing in displeasure. By mere chance, it's the same question he asked her ten years ago.
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“How?” The peculiar iteration of his mother repeats. It's then the sound of flesh tearing like blood meat being skewered can be heard as she takes several steps closer to that pool. Tyson's eyes slowly widen as he lays witness to four horns growing out of the woman's temples - two pointing upward and the other set curving forward to point in the same direction her eyes look. Each one jet black as onyx and menacing, especially as she squats to move even closer. She's at a range where Tyson can see the circles of her pupils fixing upon him intensely within those burning sockets, sending a discomforting chill down his spine that makes him lean away defensively. Then comes those haunting words…
“Where did you think you would go?”
The young man's eyes suddenly shoot open and lays upon the sight of a noon-ish blue sky. He turns his head to look to see a city environment and relief washes away the fear of his passive bad dream. He sighs and shuts his eyes.
“Where I was born, huh…?” He repeats those words from the earlier portion of his dream, and opens his eyes partially.
“That place is not my home.” Tyson declares, more so to himself and his creeping insecurities. Done dwelling in his thoughts, he soon rises to stand. He picks up his bad by one of its straps and moves to stand near the edge of the roof, resting a boot atop of a ledge as he looks out to the bustling town of New York City. What's in stored for him today?
(Later That Day...)
Sssskkrrrrrrrrrnnn– The sound of a large metal railing bending by way of powerful hands can be heard as a few pairs of scurrying feet run along marble flooring.
“C'mon, c'mon! We gotta get out of here!” one of the remnants of a band of bank robbers exclaims as they rush out of the building as fast as they can. During, none other than Righteous Lad himself is in the process of restraining the other four members for the authorities to pick up.
“Okay! Now to–” Just as he finishes and shifts his attention to the three getting away, the sound of rubber screeching against the street outside interrupts his thought. His eyes go wide for no longer than two seconds before he hustles out the front door to step out into the night. He pauses only to look around for the culprits who broke into the establishment, and eventually spots a gray van speeding down the street to his right.
“Oh, no you don't!” He hops over the railing to his right and starts sprinting to give chase. Though he doesn't have access to the speed of light without the sun, he's still naturally fast enough to run up to 101mph and catch up with the speeding vehicle. The pursuit leads both parties out into busy traffic. The driver runs red lights and swerves desperately to just barely avoid colliding with the cars on the road. The hero himself jukes left & right and makes clean jumps over various cars until the distance is gone between him and his target. Quickly and efficiently safely as he can, he finally stops the van by hooking his hands underneath the back bumper and effortlessly lifts it high above his head from the street.
“H-hey! What's going on? Why ain't we moving!?” A voice from inside complains. Tyson grins softly and casually proceeds to bend his knees with the intent of lifting the vehicle completely. What stops him is the sudden impact of a THUD!
“Great night to sleep soundly in a cell, eh guys?” The new arrival teasingly comments before rustling and grunting could be heard. Tyson arches a brow, unable to see what's taking place from his position. The powerhouse of a young man eases the car back down and steps from behind it. The next thing he sees is the culprits hanging from a street light to his left in a net of web.
“No way…” The chicagoan's mouth goes ajar at the realization of what that sight means. Then as if on cue, another 'thud’ grabs his attention and to his right perching on top of the van is none other than New York City's Spectacular Spider-Man.
“Heya, neighbor! Was on my way to turn in for the night, but thought I'd drop by to lend a hand.” The web-slinger informs.
“Dude, No Waaaay! Sick! You're–...” Tyson pauses for a moment, gesturing his hands out toward the hero in red and blue, as if he couldn't believe what he's seeing or what he's about to say.
“You're Spider-Man!! I'm actually meeting Spider-Man…” He finally speaks those words and drops his hands to his own hips.
“You're darn Skippy I am!” Peter affirms, pointing fingers at the foreign hero.
“Hey listen, I'd love to stay and chat for a bit, but I'm pushing my luck with my schedule. Whaddya go by, though?”
“Huh? Oh! Righteous Lad!” Tyson answers.
“Hm! Notta bad name at all. Has a 90's gnarly vibe to it. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Righteous Lad. You take care out there, all right?”
“I appreciate that, man! And thanks for the help. You did wonders to make it speedy. You take care, too.” Tyson responds. And with their parting words, Spider-Man swings away with a webline. With a lingering grin, Tyson eventually turns and departs from the scene with a great bound that carries him over two buildings and allows him to land upon the roof of the third in line. Sunlight is just beginning to peek in from over the horizon as the hero in fanciful black treads along the roof, thinking of what to spend his time doing next.
However, a strange phenomenon reveals itself – closing in with a black streak in its wake as the object zeroes in on the hero. It zips past the side of his head and floats in place in front of his face. The young stops in his tracks once he sees it and blinks.
“Is that… a lantern–”
“Konnence of Niflheim!” A disembodied voice suddenly addresses him, striking him with a chilling shock.
“You have not only defied death, but were born within an omnipotent source of it! Death taints your very soul, like darkness that threatens to overtake the light… Embrace What You are and DIE .” The ring demands of him with such cultish convention. The offer draws an expression of horrified-disgust upon Tyson's face.
“...I don't know where you came from…” The young man begins, delaying his thought only to swiftly snag the ring out of thin air and squeeze hard enough to break it into several pieces. He opens his hands to stare at them for a moment. He tilts his hand to let them spill to the ground, then stomps the bits into even tinier pieces.
“But I will not endorse the heart-wrenching cruelty that is death…” Tyson concludes with a solemn frown. Soon, a thought dawns upon him. One that makes him spare a moment to thoroughly study his surroundings cautiously, as if searching for a telltale sign of some sort.
“Why did a Black Lantern ring seek me out, and how did it know that stuff about me?” He murmurs the question to himself.
{ The truth is, that this merge of several worlds… of pantheons and lost, has accumulated enough darkness to reincarnate wicked beings and powers. The first to reel its head to those on Earth is the return of the BLACK LANTERN CORP – a dangerous force from the spectrum that has manifested from the mentioned darkness. No leader to speak of, but this disembodied power seeks to find a suitable replacement. If it cannot have the son of the Goddess of Death, then it will look elsewhere and demand so far less kindly. Danger is afoot and no one quite yet knows it. }