*** This is my new original story which I have been working on recently. I was inspired by the other Dc/Fate Fanfic here which was abandoned by the author. This concept has an interesting charm. I wanted to try getting some input on how to assimilate the nasuverse stuff into the story and the direction.
As an avid nasuverse fan, I'll try to merge some elements of it in the DC universe. But not too many world ending stuff, DC already have plenty of it.
Without further bs , enjoy! ***
"This feels way too bright for 10 p.m."
That was the first thought that slithered into my half-conscious brain as warmth and blinding light seeped through my closed eyelids. My bed, which had never failed to cradle me after a long shift, suddenly felt like it was sitting under a tanning lamp from hell. Groggy, I cracked one eye open.
And that's when I saw it.
A mushroom cloud. Glowing, monstrous, and rising like an ancient god from the horizon. A literal goddamn mushroom cloud. Orange, red, and yellow flames spiraled upward, dancing on the bones of the Earth as if to mock the idea that we ever thought we were in control.
"What the actual fuck?!"
My brain lagged. Was this a movie? A prank? Was someone filming a nuclear drama down the street?
No. This was real. Too real.
"Did World War III start while I was asleep?" I mumbled, dumbfounded. "Wait, who the hell even nukes Canada?"
We did have oil reserves, but not that we ever used it. We didn't have military bases worth targeting. We don't even have gold or uranium mines that is valuable enough.
Our biggest exports were politeness, maple syrup, and poutine. Hell, we practically spoon-fed America all our money and resources while we were busy arguing over hockey. Why nuke us?
"If anyone deserves to live through this, it better be Ryan Reynolds," I thought bitterly. "He's the only universally loved Canadian we have left."
Before I could reach for my phone—or, more accurately, before I even finished blinking—another white-hot flash lit up the sky. Then another. I checked my phone, and apparently Israel was nuked by Russia after they decided to double team Iran.
Then China also released a bio weapon in USA, and uncle Sam always shoots first and ask questions later. So they nuked China.
Now where does Canada get nuked? Apparently, the missile range from China was miscalculated by their scientists(I don't know how that's even possible by an Asian). And lucky us, we were the recipients of our neighbors delivery.
Would have been nice if it was an amazon package, not multiple nuclear missiles.
"So, we're fucked I guess," I muttered as I clicked on YouTube and played "21 guns" and put on my headphones. I lit up a cigarette and closed my eyes as I inhaled the smoke. The music played softly.
Do you know what's worth fighting for
When it's not worth dying for?
Does it take your breath away
And you feel yourself suffocating?
Does the pain weigh out the pride?
And you look for a place to hide
Did someone break your heart inside?
You're in ruins
One, 21 guns
Lay down your arms, give up the fight
One, 21 guns
Throw up your arms into the sky
You and I
I calmly watched as people were running around, probably screaming and crying.
I wonder, will humanity survive this war?
Probably not. We have pushed our luck for too long. But it's sad that many innocents will die as well.
But if they survive, thousands of year later, how will they remember us? Will we be just a footnote of what not do ?
Will there be a person who will know that once, there existed a man named Edward Elric ?
Another bomb dropped from the sky, right across the block this time. The explosion went off first as smoke rose above with heat, forming a mushroom cloud.
The shockwave came next, faster than I could process. My window shattered inward , the walls crashed, and the floor beneath me crumbled as if the world had grown tired of my humble one-bedroom apartment. I was smashed by countless debris and my vision was blocked by the dust.
Then, silence.
When I opened my eyes again, I immediately wished I hadn't.
I was in hell—or something very close.
"The world shall know pain," I muttered in a dry rasp, quoting Naruto for no apparent reason.
Maybe I thought it would be funny.
It wasn't.
I couldn't feel my legs. That thought hit first. Then came the realization of why—my lower half was missing. Gone. Splattered across what remained of my living room like a modern art piece painted by God's worst mood swing.
My dick was gone as well, so no point struggling to survive or some shit. Might as well give up.
A metal rod had impaled my midsection. My intestines were dangling like streamers from a birthday party held in a graveyard.
I should have been screaming. Panicking. Crying.
Instead, I felt... nothing.
No pain. No fear. Just an odd numbness.
Maybe it was shock, or maybe—just maybe—my brain had already given up.
"Guess I don't have to go to work tomorrow," I thought with a dry chuckle. "Small victories."
Blood filled my mouth like copper syrup. My throat burned, but I wasn't coughing. Wasn't struggling. Just lying there. Alive, technically.
'Why am I not dead?'
That question repeated in my head like a broken song lyric.
'Am I immortal? Did I unlock Wolverine's powers? Or maybe I'm just stuck in one of those horrible simulation nightmares where your brain keeps the body alive for no reason.' I mused.
The world around me was gone. Flattened. No neighbors. No buildings. Just scorched earth and the occasional flaming husk of a car or tree. No sound. No birds. No cries for help. Just... silence.
Death had been efficient.
And yet here I was, impaled, dismembered, and apparently still not dead.
That's when I felt it. A force—pulling me, tearing me away from the scorched ruins. It didn't hurt. Not exactly. But it felt like I was being yanked through reality by something older and stronger than logic.
I didn't fight it.
What was there to fight for?
One moment I was lying in nuclear rubble, and the next… I was floating in space.
Actual space.
Not a dream. Not a hallucination. The stars twinkled like scattered diamonds. Galaxies swirled in slow motion, and everything felt infinite, eternal, peaceful.
I should've been awestruck. And I was—briefly.
Then, of course, I remembered: humans can't breathe in space.
Yet here I was, very much conscious, not suffocating.
A comet—or a burning asteroid, maybe a solar flare streaked by, I honestly never paid enough attention in school. It's radiant tail casting waves of light around me. I stared, dumbly fascinated.
"I failed science class three times. But I'm Pretty sure none of this is normal."
Suddenly, the stars shifted. Darkness bloomed behind me—complete and inescapable. And formed a very special phenomena.
A black hole.
It pulsed, beckoning.
"Great. A giant space vacuum. Just what I needed. Hope this ends me."
I didn't resist as it pulled me in. What was the point?
The planet was likely ash. My family was probably gone. I was already dead, or should be. Maybe this was the afterlife's way of clearing up loose ends.
As I drew closer, I felt the pressure—impossible pressure. Crushing, folding, compacting. Every atom of my body screamed.
Finally—finally—I felt something.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Just an overwhelming sadness and regret. Not for myself. But for the life I'd lived.
I'd been average. Forgettable. Edward Elric—not the famous alchemist from anime, mind you. Just a tired 20-year-old minimum wage drone working double shifts at a gas station in Toronto. My biggest accomplishment was once convincing a raccoon to leave a customer's car alone using a bag of chips.
I had dreams, of course. Who didn't? I wanted to travel. Fall in love. Scream at Warner Bros. and James Gunn for butchering Superman again while quoting godfather, "Look how they massacred my boy."
But I'd never gotten the chance.
Some asshat politician pushed a button in a bunker somewhere, and my story—our story—was over. Billions of people wiped out for reasons we'd never understand.
"What a meaningless end," I whispered as the black hole consumed me.
Then everything went dark.
But Edward's story didn't end there.
Unseen by mortal eyes, a shimmer of light erupted the moment his body broke apart. Ten fragments—small, glowing orbs—circled the point before he had vanished. They pulsed with energy, each one holding power far beyond human comprehension.
Ten symbols. Ten legacies. Ten Heroes.
They didn't mourn. They didn't speak. They simply entered Edward's broken soul, as if summoned by fate itself.
A being appeared in the place Edward vanished. It's whole body was shrouded in darkness and light . It looked at the ruined planet and and spoke softly," The land of steel , the end of humanity. Yet it persists, like a flame flickering before burning out.
Perhaps you will show me a different future. After all , you inherited the will of your ancestor. Let me bear witness to your story, Edward."
And then, just as quickly as he'd vanished—
—he was gone.
Meanwhile Edward was being hurled through space and dimensions. Not dead. Not alive.
But somewhere else entirely.
Somewhere far stranger.
Somewhere far more dangerous.
****
I woke up face-first in sand with the sun shining brightly. Sea gulls cawed in the sky and the sound of waves hitting the shores entered my ears.
Not exactly how I expected to start the day.
The first thing I felt was sunlight kicking me in the face like it had a personal vendetta. The second was the warm breeze brushing against my cheeks—real breeze, not the kind that smells like piss and concrete steam back in Toronto.
"This definitely ain't Toronto," I muttered to myself.
No honking taxis, no college kids vaping beside Tim Hortons, no drugged-out guy having a full-on anime battle with a lamppost.
Most importantly, no overwhelming scent of sweat from packed subways full of people who don't know what deodorant is.
I sat up slowly, brushing sand off my shirt, blinking against the sunlight. The sky above was too blue, the air too fresh. The usual soul-crushing cloud blanket over Toronto was nowhere in sight.
Instead, it was like someone had photoshopped the real world—crystal clear waves, white sand, tropical birds chirping like they'd been paid to do it. Beautiful. Unreal.
Was I dead? Or dreaming?
Or maybe this was limbo, and I had to find Ryan Reynolds to guide me to heaven.
But as I stood up and patted myself down, I realized something else—my body was perfectly fine.
No burn marks. No twisted limbs. No sign of the metal rod that had impaled me or the nuked-to-hell suburban wasteland I was stuck in five minutes ago.
Was it a dream? A hallucination before death?
Yeah, no. My gut said otherwise.
And my gut was proven right when a freaking shadow blotted out the sun behind me. I turned around slowly.
And there it was.
A Cyclops.
A literal one-eyed, towering Cyclops holding what looked like an entire uprooted tree as a club. He stared down at me, a single massive brown eye blinking curiously like he couldn't decide whether to kill me or ask for directions.
I raised my hand and waved weakly. "Hello there good sir. Nice day for fishing, ain't it?"
He blinked again, confused. Then, to my surprise, he replied in a deep rumble, "Why are you not running in fear or attacking me like the others?"
I scratched the back of my head, still taking in the fact that this giant had better English than half the people in my high school. "Why would I? You haven't tried to eat me or smash me into paste. Seems rude to make assumptions."
He tilted his head, considering that. "True. I only attack those who try to steal my things. Most humans who come here try to kill me or take my sheep."
I squinted past his huge frame. Sure enough, there were dozens of fluffy sheep grazing peacefully nearby, completely unbothered by their massive guardian.
"Well, I don't even like lamb meat," I said, shrugging. "You're safe, big guy."
The Cyclops scratched his thick head with a giant finger. "You are strange. You feel no fear. What is your name?"
"Edward Elric, at your service." I replied, half out of habit, half out of sarcasm. "Though I have a sneaking suspicion this ain't the same world I came from. Probably fell from the sky."
"You came from the sea, didn't you? You must have hit your head," he said, frowning. "Humans don't fall from the sky."
"Buddy," I sighed, "if only you knew.
But seriously—what is this place? What era are we in? Is there a name for this island?"
He looked a little downcast. "I don't know. I was left here a long time ago. Father banished me from the seas. Said I was too ugly and weak to walk among mortals."
I raised an eyebrow. "Harsh. Who's your dad, some kind of strict fisherman?"
He puffed up proudly. "Poseidon. God of the Sea and Earthquakes."
I blinked. "Right. Of course. Why not. That explains the whole Greek myth vibe."
He nodded, missing my sarcasm completely. "The last humans who came here said they were from Athens. They spoke of a war… something about going to Troy. "
I visibly flinched. The Trojan War? That meant either I was in the past, inside some bizarre mythological dreamscape, or in one hell of a bad acid trip.
"Well, crap," I muttered. "So I've been nuked to death, dragged through a black hole, and now I've landed in ancient Greece with Pokémon-tier monsters."
The Cyclops looked sad again, watching me quietly.
"Hey," I added, softening a little, "you're not that ugly, dude. I mean, sure, you wouldn't win a beauty contest, but neither would I. And you're definitely strong enough. Overall, You seem like a nice guy."
His face lit up like I'd handed him a winning lottery ticket. "You think so?!"
"Yeah, really," I grinned. " It's nice to meet you and all, But I don't plan to spend my life in this island. This is my new life, so I plan to see the world and experience everything it has to offer. "
His eyes somewhat dimmed, probably sad that the only decent person he met was going away. I thought for a while and decided.
"Tell you what—can you shrink down to my size or something? Then you can join me and see the world. Because otherwise you're gonna have a hard time fitting in on our upcoming epic quest to nowhere."
His face lit up but dimmed again. "Father forbade me from ever leaving this island. He said punishment would follow if I disobeyed."
I walked over and patted his massive leg—the only thing I could reach. "Living under someone else's orders your whole life isn't living at all. You've got to make your own choices, Pham."
"Pham?"
"Yeah. Polyphemus is a mouthful. I'm calling you Pham. You're officially my Cyclops sidekick now."
He looked touched. Actually touched. Like no one had ever said anything nice to him before.
"You're very kind, Edward. No one has ever treated me like this. Not even my father or brothers. Thank you."
"Don't get weepy on me, big guy," I said, smirking. "Come on—we're gonna build a boat, stock up on food, and see what the hell this world has in store. Can't be worse than being atomized."
He sniffled, wiped his eye, and then something incredible happened—his massive frame shrank. Not fully human-sized, but down to a solid seven feet. Like a roided-out basketball player in a fur toga.
"Perfect," I nodded. "Now we just need a ship. And snacks. Lots of snacks."
Pham knelt beside me, offering a gentle smile. "Thank you, Edward. My first and only friend."
I raised my fist toward him. "No worries, Pham. Friends don't need to thank each other."
He stared at my fist in confusion. I showed him how to fist-bump.
When he got the hang of it, he grinned ear to ear. "This… this is what friends do?"
"Yup. And you better get used to it, big guy. Because we've got one hell of a journey ahead."
As we walked down the beach together—me, a sarcastic Canadian with a death wish, and him, a misunderstood Cyclops with daddy issues—I felt something hum inside me. A strange warmth pulsing through my chest.
Unknown to Pham, and even to me, ten small lights glimmered faintly beneath my skin—ten forgotten relics, ten fragments of heroic legacies, waiting for their time.
The world had ended once.
But my story?
It was just getting started.