Chapter 125: 125

Words : 844 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

What happens in Chapter 124 of "Beyond the Limit (DC)"? Joseph had killed before. He had killed Count Viper and the mindless human-dinosaur hybrids the Count... Read on to find out!

Joseph had killed before. He had killed Count Viper and the mindless human-dinosaur hybrids the Count had created. He had destroyed parasitic personalities like Silver Swan and Two-Face. He had indirectly eliminated several corrupt figures in Chicago through Dizzy. Others had fallen through the work of Harvey Dent's gang—irreclaimable gangsters, dead by Joseph's design. And he'd felt no guilt for any of them. The closest he'd come was a flicker of pity—for the human experiments Viper had broken beyond repair. But A.R.G.U.S. later revealed those same victims had once willingly served the Count, helping him abduct and mutilate innocents until they themselves became his test subjects. A twist of irony, and a reminder that mercy didn't always belong. Still, Joseph understood something dangerous about himself: taking life was becoming too easy. That scared him. So when he was dropped into a war zone and killed hundreds—maybe thousands—of Gordanians, guilt finally stirred when he had time to fully think about his actions. He didn't really know what kind of people they were. Were they truly monstrous? Or were they simply tools of the Citadel, misled and weaponized? Could there be compassion in them, empathy, regret? He had to find out. To decide whether his guilt was justified—or wasted—he dove into their minds, using a deep-search technique granted by Py'tar. What he discovered relieved him more than he liked to admit. The first mind he entered belonged to a soldier named Weezak. His thoughts confirmed that the Gordanian species was indeed a twisted society of raiders, slavers, and killers—void of empathy or conscience. Their civilization operated on brutality: the strong consumed the weak, the cruel ruled the less cruel, and war was their highest art. Their culture was only barely contained by the Citadel, which used them as enforcers to maintain dominance over the Vega System. Weezak had been bred for war. From birth, he'd studied it, glorified it, and practiced it—on the innocent. And he wasn't alone. He and this ship's pilot, Trogaar, had both participated in the attack on Tamaran. Proudly. Joseph probed deeper. One by one, he searched all sixteen minds aboard the craft. It took two hours. From weak to strong, poor to rich, there was no difference: cruelty was universal. And it wasn't just cultural—it was physiological. Their society saw compassion and kindess as a disease. It would've been funny how cartoonishly evil they were if not for the trail of ruin they'd left across the stars. Joseph felt ashamed at the relief that followed. Yet, thankful. Thankful for the horrors they'd committed, because it meant erasing these parasites wouldn't haunt his conscience. He practiced more advanced techniques during the process, leaving a few of them braindead to test his control. Mind control, psychic illusions, mental attacks, and more. This depleted his psychic energy but he restocked using the reserves in Nova's avatar. When he'd learned enough, he absorbed all their psychic energy. The resulting mental barrier Nova formed with the harvested reserves was powerful—so fortified that even Despero would have trouble breaching it. With the ship cleared, Joseph leapt once more—soaring toward the outskirts of the embattled city. He hovered mid-air using his anti-gravity field, now bolstered by the Strength Force. The power felt crisp, focused, efficient. Then he launched forward at Mach 4.5. In seconds, he reached the heart of the war-torn metropolis—skyscrapers aflame, skies swarming with violence. Thousands of Thanagarians in Nth metal battle armor clashed mid-air against tens of thousands of Gordanians in polished golden suits. From above, Gordanian carrier ships rained fresh troops with every passing minute. As Joseph appeared, warships immediately turned their cannons toward him. He didn't move. He took the first volleys full-on, his body hardened by the Strength Force and reinforced by his armor. The searing impact rolled over him. It hurt—but he absorbed the energy, turning it into Nova Force. His Nth metal held—until one concentrated barrage melted a chunk. But the armor regenerated within seconds. Thanks Nova. Then he retaliated. Closing the distance, he laid a hand on one of the carriers and flooded it with Strength Force—overloading its mass until the ship tore from the sky like a meteor. Others tried to flee. He caught them with his anti-gravity field, crushing their paths and smashing them together in mid-air like toys. He wasn't here to choose a side. He didn't care who won this war. But between Gordanians and Thanagarians, one was more of a danger to all life. He just wanted off. Scanning the battlefield, he searched for any intact ship—Thanagarian or Gordanian—that could perform faster-than-light travel. Amid the wreckage, nothing stood out. It should've been fairly obvious in hindsight. Ships capable of flying through subspace probably costed way more to make. Why would they be wasted on planet-side war? Fine. He'd play hero for a little longer—just long enough to buy his exit. Then he'd be gone.

Chapter 125: 125

Comments (0)