American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 111 Nemesis and Fate, Thor! [17k]

Night falls.

The city skyline gleamed with a silvery-gray luster under the moonlight.

The empty parking lot was unusually quiet.

"Hello?"

Ian forced himself to greet the suddenly awakened "Sam." He looked at the startled Flash, Barry Allen, who had already taken several steps back in fright.

"Is he possessed by a ghost?"

Barry Allen usually only fights superhumans, and when it comes to the "zombie" boy whose eyes look like they've come back to life, he can only guess based on his limited imagination.

"you're right."

The boy, "Sam," did not deny it.

He actually gave Barry Allen a thumbs up.

Even a devil is a demon.

There is indeed nothing wrong with it.

Perhaps it was because Sam's praise was too inspiring, or perhaps because Sam poisoned it, but in any case, the Flash immediately passed out.

Ian swallowed hard.

Pretend nothing happened.

"Can I repay this favor with Constantine? I know where he is, and I can go and bring him to you right now." He came up with a brilliant solution in a moment of quick thinking.

however.

"No, little cutie."

The devil's eyes fixed on Ian once more.

His scarlet eyes were quite sinister.

He was Lucifer, who was connected to the real world, and Sam was still just his body.

“Let’s add a red Grim Reaper too. It’s cuter and completely different from the other Grim Reapers.” Ian pointed to the red-robed Grim Reaper who was staring at him from a distance.

The red-robed Grim Reaper was taken aback at first.

He immediately took off running.

They disappeared around the street corner in a flash.

“He has a legal identity, has worked diligently for decades, and is a model worker.” Lucifer, possessing Sam, didn’t care, but just stared at Ian with a playful look.

He was still grinning wickedly.

It's like having a mouth that can't close.

“We all know that my old man likes to take in homeless children.” Lucifer’s tone was pointed, and he watched as Ian’s eyes slowly returned to their normal black.

Very profound.

"You know this as well?"

Ian sensed something unusual in the other person's words. He had already discovered that the red-robed Grim Reaper might be a legitimate infiltrator, but he hadn't expected that Lucifer, who was obsessed with chasing women, was also paying attention to this matter.

“If I want to know, I can know; that’s omniscience.” Lucifer poked his own head, or rather, poked Sam’s temple.

He seemed to have an excessively strong desire to share. "You may not understand this ability yet. I can tell you that it's like a small bonus. All omniscient people are not receiving all the information of the entire universe at all times. No one is idle enough to pay attention to things that have nothing to do with them every day."

"The so-called omniscience means that when we want to know something, we can know it. You can think of it as us having a special 'organ' for collecting information."

"Oh, right, organ. I love that name. That's right. Every omniscient being has an extra organ that stores a vast database of information that is constantly being updated and expanded."

"When you need to check the trajectory of an event, a person, or even the world, whether it has happened or not, we can simply search our database like we would a research paper."

Lucifer used simple and easy-to-understand language to give Ian a little-known explanation of science.

"It sounds very scientific."

Ian was also encountering this level of knowledge for the first time and was greatly shocked.

"Of course it's scientific. Don't forget, the concept of science is also my old man's masterpiece—everything will be scientific. Omniscience can be seen as a product of the combination of consciousness and the rules of the universe. Every omniscient being has different extra organs, so in fact, higher-level beings can also shield lower-level beings from information collection."

Lucifer snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

"If it can be blocked, is it still omniscient?" Ian pretended not to notice that the other person kept mentioning God, and he didn't like to compete with people he couldn't compare to in terms of family background.

"good question."

Lucifer gave an indifferent look.

"That depends on how you view omniscience. In fact, angels also possess a certain degree of omniscience; they can access knowledge of Heaven through their connection with it."

“There is a huge library there, which can also be considered a shared organ for the angels. If you ever want to deal with the angels, you should first sever their connection with Heaven.”

"Without knowledge, the angels will lose their power."

Lucifer's words had a seductive quality.

Why are you telling me so much?

Ian immediately became alert.

"Of course it's because I watched you grow up and I like you a lot—of course, I also hope to see you take down a few angels one day."

“That would be fun, and I could go around bragging about how I got involved.” Lucifer readily admitted his purpose, his overly honesty making Ian blush.

After all, honesty is a childlike innocence he can never return to.

"So, this can also be used... against you?" Ian had lost his honesty and his boldness. He sensed Lucifer's attitude and thus made a test.

As DC's all-knowing expert.

Ian knew very well the temperament of the Lord of Hell in front of him: he disliked people who were too obsequious and humble, and of course, he also disliked people who were too impolite.

There's a limit to this.

Ian handled it quite well.

Lucifer was not angry when he heard this, but laughed even more happily.

“Unfortunately, I am not among them. After leaving that filthy place called Heaven, I grew extra omniscient organs—this involves the realm of omnipotence.”

Lucifer's patience seems to be quite remarkable.

He is imparting knowledge.

He seemed unaware that Ian might use this opportunity to cling to him.

"Thank you, I've learned a lot." Ian gave Lucifer a deep look, and as the conversation continued, he gradually realized that Lucifer might not be trying to teach him.

Lucifer was hinting at something to him.

As an being below God and above all things, Lucifer's words would not be without purpose, and Ian's super wisdom also allowed him to see through the unspoken meaning in Lucifer's words.

He wanted Ian to understand omniscience and omnipotence, so that Ian would understand one thing: Superman's super hearing was blocked just now and now because it was more than just super hearing.

That was the beginning of omniscience.

Superman's information gathering was simply shielded by a higher-level "computer." Yes, Ian had grasped the point; he understood that Lucifer was hinting at Superman's potential.

Super hearing is the beginning of omniscience, and the growth potential of the mind is the beginning of omnipotence. Lucifer wasn't just popularizing science; he was also imparting the "Omnipotent Father God Training Manual" to Ian!
Does Lucifer want to see Superman rise to power?

Perhaps it doesn't matter.

However, Lucifer must have already seen through Ian's expectations of the Father, which is why he catered to Ian's interests by providing popular science education. This is different from the seduction of lower-level demons.

A sophisticated devil doesn't need to read minds to truly understand people's hearts!
"After fourteen years in DC, I've finally met a benefactor." Ian was also very excited and surging. Before he knew it, he had already found a suitable identity for Lucifer.

Lucifer, the nobleman.

This is comparable to a mentor and godfather.

"Very good, I like your cleverness." Lucifer smiled and clapped his hands. He probably didn't realize he had been attacked by [Entanglement]. After all, it was silent and difficult to defend against. Its only drawback was that as the number of entanglements increased, there weren't many titles left for Ian.

"I also quite like my intelligence."

Ian is also very honest.

Lucifer might actually have a taste for this.

"As a reward, I'm going to make you owe me another favor." Lucifer, still controlling Sam's body, climbed out of the carriage and cleaned up the grime on his body.

“I know you received those guys’ rewards, which gave you a more important role in this world, but it’s not necessarily all good for you.”

Lucifer picked up the demon's head that was pretending to be dead from the trunk, and as if struck by a playful impulse, used the trembling head as a football to start playing with the Chinese national football team.

The demon dared not be angry.

It also had to control itself to crash into Lucifer's clumsy footwork.

"Are there any downsides?" Ian wasn't confused that Lucifer knew about the reward he received from death, after all, Lucifer had just explained the issue of omniscience to him.

“It depends on how you look at the pros and cons.” Lucifer seemed to enjoy using this kind of phrasing. “The more you gain, the more you have to bear.”

"I was one of the first to make this kind of deal. Perhaps even your goddess, who favors you, doesn't realize that what they give you will bring you an unsolvable problem."

Lucifer's words startled Ian for a moment.

"An unsolvable problem?"

Ian's mind raced.

Lucifer was not in a hurry, but waited for him to think it over.

"Bang~"

Lucifer kicked the demon's head hard.

The demon's head churned and flew out, causing space to shatter. It was as if the demon's head was kicked back to hell, and then it pierced through dimensions and fell from the sky.

"Lucifer!"

A roar appeared in the sky.

It sounds somewhat like the voice of the goofy black angel who just appeared.

"Hehe, this body is indeed a little more useful. Tell Michael to come down and find me." Lucifer gave the sky the middle finger and stomped on Ian's Abyss Barrel.

The sky did not respond.

It seems like some bird-like people have chickened out.

"I understand."

At this moment, Ian also suddenly realized that, after really thinking about it, he understood what Lucifer was talking about, or at least he thought he understood it.

"The higher the position, the greater the responsibility. If a major disaster occurs and I don't contribute enough, will I be stripped of my title?" Ian's speculation is not without merit.

but.

This was clearly not the answer Lucifer wanted to give Ian.

“You’re not wrong, but you’re not right either. What you need to care about isn’t this kind of problem, but how to face your own ‘story’ and how to meet your nemesis.”

Lucifer turned to Ian, his tone carrying a profound meaning, "In every story, the protagonist has a nemesis. As your influence increases, your nemesis will also be strengthened."

"Your father and Luther, your boss and the Joker... nemesis, they will always be a part of your life, inescapable. That's the kind of stupid premise my bullshit father loved." Lucifer still loved to mention his God father, and would seize any opportunity to criticize God's faults.

No one responded to him.

Ian didn't dare to agree either.

It's one thing to curse God occasionally, since God usually won't take it to heart. But to curse someone else's son in front of them is something even the God of Gamblers wouldn't bet on.

“No one can escape their nemesis, not even God himself. Of course, that includes me.” Lucifer didn’t seem annoyed by this; instead, he seemed relaxed and at ease, as if chatting casually.

"Then where is my nemesis?"

Ian attempted to find the answer by taking a shortcut.

"Then you'll have to ask my idiot old man."

Lucifer did not give a definite answer.

"Can't I owe you a few more favors? I'll feel more at ease if I owe you a few more." Ian knew that the more favors he owed, the greater the probability of successfully activating [Interpersonal Connections].

True.

There are also risks involved.

However, as the saying goes, the bigger the storm, the more valuable the fish; danger always comes with opportunity. Ian is different from Constantine; his ideas are more modern.

"You're dreaming. Besides, I don't know how easy it is to repay a favor." Lucifer didn't give Ian a chance to "innovate." He just kept lifting the "football" into the sky.

The demon's head rose and fell repeatedly.

Something was handed to Lucifer.

"what is this?"

Lucifer took Ian's notebook with some surprise.

"I've been worried about my two older brothers' love lives because of the Kryptonian population recovery plan. This is a special guide to picking up girls. I've made some minor modifications and added some omniscient elements."

Ian learned a new term and, of course, immediately put it to use: "You know, we ordinary people don't rely on superpowers to pick up girls. This is a special policewoman's guide."

In a sense, he does possess knowledge beyond his dimensional level.

"Laughable, you think I need superpowers to pick up girls?" Lucifer scoffed, but still flipped through the notebook a few times before it disappeared from his hand.

"Very good, now you only owe me one favor."

Lucifer, who had just said that favors were hard to repay, left behind only this sentence before rolling his eyes, and Sam, who was merely a shell, instantly turned into a limp shrimp and lay sprawled on the ground.

“God must have given Lucifer an aphrodisiac… How terrifying.” Ian realized that Lucifer had probably also learned it and put it to use. He stood there, feeling utterly bewildered by the situation.

I was deeply shocked.

"Oh, great God Ian, you actually know that great one." The demon head finally dared to speak, even though its face was covered in filth, it was still very happy.

"I must be the only demon who has been to Heaven, and I've been there more than twenty times! Even the Three Palace Demons aren't as lucky as me!" It's probably getting cocky now.

When talking about the three palaces, no honorifics are used anymore.

They even called the other party the Three Palaces Demon.

Things with a bull's head are definitely quite repressed.

"Having experienced the effects of that lord's athlete's foot, I may soon be about to receive a promotion!" The demon head didn't seem to be playing with abstract concepts; it seemed to genuinely have such a firm belief.

"..."

What could Ian say? He disdainfully tossed the demon's head back into the trunk, then picked up Sam, who had crawled out of the dead, and carried him back into the trunk like a kitten.

Sam was put back into his brother's arms.

“Oh, and my Uncle Barry.” Ian felt that since he was already calling him uncle, he couldn’t put him in the trunk, so he used his all-purpose large pen bag, which was extremely useful for this occasion.

"Papa~"

The effect is remarkable.

Barry Allen slowly woke up.

He covered his slightly aching face, looking around in a flustered manner.

"Saveta...where is Saveta?"

He seemed to be living in the past, as if his mind had pressed the time rewind button.

"Are you my Uncle Barry, whom I used the Speed ​​Force to attend Savitar's seventh-day memorial service and then traveled back in time through the time portal?" Ian gave the speedster Barry Allen a way out.

pity.

His good intentions were not appreciated.

"What seventh day after death? I...I think..." Barry rubbed his temples, his expression gradually recovering from the confusion. "I remember Savita grabbed me, and then...you said you used Super Brain?"

“I remember now, you tricked Savita into going to Los Angeles... and then the boy suddenly sat up, gave me a thumbs up, and I lost consciousness.”

"What did he do to me?" Barry Allen gradually remembered everything. He was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't been able to make Ian experience the chaos brought about by the Speed ​​Force.

Just as Ian was about to answer, a cold voice suddenly rang out from behind him.

"You're Ian?"

The voice was arrogant, as if someone owed her forty-five thousand dollars. Ian and Barry both turned their heads at the same time and saw a tall woman in a black leather jacket standing not far away. She had long, curly blonde hair casually draped over her shoulders, a poker face, and was dragging a huge burlap sack on her back.

"You audacious demon! How dare you address God Ian by his name! How outrageous!" The demon head felt its chance to shine had come, and it began to righteously attack the mother demon outside the carriage.

"Shut up."

The woman turned her head and glanced at the demon's head, which immediately rolled its eyes and fainted. She was a high-ranking demon, Lucifer's personal butler whom he had brought from Hell.

They are Lucifer's faithful followers in Hell.

He serves as an executioner in Hell.

“This is the trash you littered. We’re not going to pay you for garbage disposal.” With that, the female demon dragged the sack behind her and threw it in front of Ian.

"Thanks,."

Ian nodded in response.

"Hmm?" The female demon was taken aback when she heard the thanks. She had thought she would encounter an evil god who was familiar with Lucifer, but she did not expect the other party to be so polite.

"It seems you're not as arrogant as Lucifer always praised." The female demon looked at Ian thoughtfully, then suddenly changed the subject and licked her lips.

"A date?"

What a direct invitation!

Ian smiled.

"I'm afraid you have AIDS."

His refusal was also simple and unpretentious.

Sincere feelings.

"..."

The female demon, who indeed enjoyed casual sex, remained somewhat silent. Barry Allen shrank to the edge of the flowerbed, leaning against the wall. Seeing this scene, he couldn't help but feel a genuine sense of the local customs and culture outside Midtown.

"unlucky!"

The female demon, struck by Ian's swift blade, turned away in displeasure, her figure disappearing into the night, seemingly vanishing from the streets of the metropolis in the blink of an eye.

"Why can that head you've collected talk?" Barry Allen asked, looking at the unconscious demon head in the trunk after the female demon left.

He had initially thought it was just a figurine.

“Uncle Barry, you clearly don’t have a super brain.” Ian’s assessment was quite fair, albeit slightly tactful. He walked up to the large sack and untied the rope binding it.

Savita lay motionless inside.

All over.

There was no longer any fluctuation of the Speed ​​Force.

He must not be asleep.

Savita's armor was intact, but he was lifeless. Ian reached out and carefully removed the mask from Savita's helmet.

as predicted.

The person inside, clad in armor, was beyond dead. His entire body looked as if it had been scorched by lava, and his unseeing eyes resembled two charred lumps.

"This is impossible!"

Barry Allen leaned over and took a look.

He immediately began to tremble as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

He couldn't accept this fact.

The man who had once hunted him down and nearly destroyed the entire Central City, the terrifying being who called himself the "God of Speed," actually had a face exactly like his own!? Realizing what was happening, Barry Allen felt a chill run down his spine, and cold sweat poured down his back as if countless needles were crawling up his spine.

"Saveta, that's me?"

Barry Allen couldn't accept this fact.

He was struck by lightning.

My mind went completely blank.

“This is what a speedster looks like.” Ian already knew this information, so he wasn’t surprised. He began to frantically dismantle Savita’s armor.

The night wind howled.

Barry Allen remained standing there, shocked and terrified.

Meanwhile, Ian was picking up equipment.

After all, they are all futuristic technologies and can all be considered good things, especially the fist blade on the wrist. Ian had to use his little brain to find a way to disassemble it.

"It can cut iron like mud."

Ian tested the fist blade by casually slicing it across a stone brick wall. With a soft sound, the fist blade, made of a mysterious alloy, effortlessly cut through the brick.

It's as smooth as cutting butter.

"If it can cut through the stone bricks here, it might be able to cut through steel. And if it can cut through steel, then it must be able to cut through something else."

Ian tried again.

Berserker Experience +3

Berserker Experience +2

Berserker Experience +23

He proved once again that he truly is a genius.

"What are you doing?"

The Flash broke free from his fear of the future, not through willpower, but through external factors. He discovered that Ian was doing things he couldn't understand at all.

This led Barry Allen to suspect that Ian was being mind-controlled.

"I'm leveling up."

Ian also knew that his actions could easily frighten outsiders.

He had his thigh reattached.

With his self-healing ability activated, Ian quickly recovered completely. He could still jump hundreds of meters high, but the hunger in his stomach became more and more obvious.

"Goo~"

Barry Allen swallowed hard.

He watched this scene unfold.

His expression was absolutely priceless.

Ian saw this.

He immediately began to explain.

"If you suffer the pain you inflict on yourself, you'll suffer less from the beatings others inflict on you. You have no idea how miserable I am today. Just because I'm not hardworking, I almost got my guts beaten out."

“Luckily, I haven’t turned my appendix into a locker yet.” Ian made a look of lingering fear, but Barry Allen’s gaze toward him became even more suspicious.

What does it mean to "reform your own appendix"?

Is this a statement with no errors in its sentence structure?
The air was somewhat quiet.

“I understand now, Metropolis is too far from heaven…too close to Gotham.” After a long while, Barry Allen, who had long realized something was wrong, seemed to finally understand everything.

He limped up to Hellcat with Ian's help.

"Do you have a driver's license?"

Barry Allen looked suspicious.

"Yes, yes."

Ian pulled out a psychic card.

The above information about legitimacy caused Barry Allen to fall silent again.

He always felt that something was very wrong, but since he had accidentally become a cripple with a broken leg, he had no choice in certain matters.

……

The city's neon lights twinkled in the distance, like countless stars falling to earth. The Hellcat cruised smoothly through the night, and there were still many pedestrians on the streets and alleys of the metropolis.

This is a level of security that you can't see in Midtown or many other cities.

The sense of security that Superman brings.

"Your father doesn't know you got a fake document?"

Barry Allen, the Flash, slumped in the back seat, his right leg wound hastily bandaged with an emergency bandage, but what made him even more uneasy was the girl with flushed cheeks in the front seat.

He didn't know whether he should ask Ian how many people he had kidnapped.

"Did I really not get taken to a new parallel universe by Savitar?" Barry Allen wondered if he had entered the universe of Tyrant Superman, and the person driving in front of him, looking all serious, was none other than the second-generation rich kid of Metropolis.

Have you heard of me before?

Ian pretended to be steering the wheel.

"of course."

Barry Allen nodded.

"Then you're still in the main universe."

Ian's answer left Barry Allen puzzled. However, he was too preoccupied to think about Ian at the moment; Savita's face was still haunting him.

“Saveta’s face is just like mine, but I don’t get the sense that you’re not surprised at all?” Barry Allen found Ian strange, even stranger than Bruce Wayne, the strangest person he had ever met.

"Because I have an omniscient mind."

Ian thought the term sounded much cooler than "superbrain".

"..."

Barry Allen, however, found it difficult to comment on this.

He missed out on an experience after all.

“Savita is a remnant of your time, and doesn’t really have much to do with you personally.” Ian wasn’t one to beat around the bush, so he said what he could say.

Time remnants refer to fragments of the past or future, and characters appearing in the current timeline, due to distortions or alterations in the timeline within the story of The Flash.

The Speedster has too many bugs.

Ian's omniscient mind couldn't quite figure it out in a short time.

"You actually know about time remnants?"

Barry Allen was visibly startled.

"The Omniscient Brain".

Ian tapped his temple, a reminder to Barry Allen. He was considering whether the Tyrant afterimage left by his teleportation could allow him to impersonate a speedster's time remnant.

"Then do you know why Savita did this to me?" Barry Allen was taken aback at first, then seemed to accept the "omniscient brain" concept that Ian had given him.

He asked questions humbly.

about this issue.

Ian actually had the answer.

"He may not be your future, but you have already determined that you are his past. If he can change you in the direction he wants, he can become the kind of person he wants to be without any effort."

Ian always believed that the Speedster was even better at exploiting bugs than he was.

His tone was full of emotion.

"Ah."

Barry Allen, being a veteran speedster, was not good at organizing clues but was very good at understanding them. Upon hearing Ian's words, he immediately realized something and rolled up his sleeves.

“He seems to really want to see me completely corrupted by this thing.” Barry Allen stared at his arm, where a grotesque scar emitted a blue glow.

“Now that I have some free time, let me take a look at you.” Ian turned around and leaned his entire body over the back seat, a sight that once again shocked Barry Allen.

"Steering wheel! You're still driving! Damn it! This car is going faster than an airplane!" It was only then that the Flash realized something was wrong with the car, due to his lack of awareness of speed.

"It's alright, it's a new energy vehicle, it will find its way home by itself."

Ian squeezed himself into the back row, but even so, Barry Allen was still stunned to see Hellcat turn a corner on its own.

"dudu~"

This car even uses its own horn to warn slower vehicles ahead! Even in the technologically advanced Midtown, Barry Allen couldn't figure out what kind of technology Ian had added to his car.

When did autonomous driving technology become so mature?
Just as Barry Allen was trying to explain the Hellcat scientifically, Ian's hand was already pressing on his arm, and the next moment Ian heard a notification from the system.

[Error data detected!]

Incompatible!

Familiar formula, familiar feedback. Ian had encountered this situation before. It was outside Metropolis, when he attacked Luther's wastewater treatment plant and encountered those "orcs."

"An invasion from outer space."

Ian issued a diagnosis that was most likely correct.

"Huh? What does that mean?"

Barry Allen didn't quite understand this explanation. So, Ian began to explain the relationship between dimensions to the speedster from a very grand narrative perspective.

It's basically a direct copy of Miss Death's statement.

The members of the Justice League should indeed know about this.

“The power of an entire universe is trying to kill me… then am I 100% doomed?” Barry Allen remained skeptical of Ian’s rather frightening statement.

After all, this kind of statement is too far-fetched.

"maybe."

Ian spoke after a moment's thought.

"Can I still be saved?"

Barry Allen stared at Ian.

"You could also be directly transformed into some kind of evil rebel, a collaborator—have you heard any crazy whispers in your head lately?"

Ian pinched his chin and began to question him.

“When I dream about it… Damn it, is what you’re saying really true? Damn it! I’m going to die now, even if I don’t!” Barry Allen was also unwilling to believe Ian’s judgment.

But what could he do when Ian accurately assessed his situation? If the boy was telling the truth, then Barry Allen felt he was likely destined to be sacrificed.

Speedsters may be born with such a keen sense of their own position.

"wait for me a while."

Ian knew he should report this to his superiors, so he closed his eyes and prayed earnestly. However, Miss Death did not give him any response.

The thoughts in this goddess's mind.

It's truly hard to fathom.

"Could it be that Lucifer's information shield is still working?" That was the only guess Ian could make. It couldn't be that Superman couldn't die, but it didn't matter if the Flash died, right?

amount.

It is not impossible.

Does the Flash always seem to be the first to die?
Are the big shots already used to the Flash's early death?

Ian seemed to be deep in thought.

“Your expression is making me a little nervous.” Barry Allen swallowed hard, his anxiety growing, as he realized that Ian might actually have an all-knowing brain.

Kryptonians love cheating.

Even a superhero knows this in their heart.

"This is getting a bit tricky."

Ian looked seriously into the rearview mirror.

Barry's heart skipped a beat.

"What do you mean? Can Superman save me?"

He still trusted Clark completely.

"Don't worry, Uncle Barry. Just because you trust my dad so much, we can't let you die. Besides, if you die, the more than 20,000 favors you owe me will definitely become bad debts."

“I checked, you’re a lifelong bachelor and have no debt heirs.” Ian’s words of comfort and assurance did little to make Barry Allen feel better.

He was so shocked that he almost jumped up on the spot.

“Just now I only owed 10,000 favors, how did it become more than 20,000 favors now? Huh? Huh? Huh?” Barry Allen’s three consecutive questions fully reflected his current state of mind.

Even the fact that he was actually about to win over his sweetheart in three years, no, five years, or maybe six years, was no longer something he wanted to emphasize to Ian.

“Borrowing money always incurs interest, let alone saving a life… Uncle Barry, do you know how high the interest rates are for Wayne Group’s bank loans?” The vengeful Ian didn’t miss the chance to criticize Mr. Wayne.

In this regard.

Barry Allen didn't dare to comment, since he still had more than half of his mortgage loan from a bank under the Wayne Group still outstanding.

If you add the high-interest loans Ian has to his name—Barry Allen felt that he probably had it all for the rest of his life, and looking back, the thought of dying on the spot and being used as a sacrifice didn't seem so terrible.
The Flash fell silent.

The Hellcat pulled up in front of the Winchester house with a graceful drift. Ian tossed Sam and Dean through the window like a package into their home. His familiarity with the place made Barry Allen wonder again if Ian was really still a student.
Seeing Ian return.

Where is this girl?

He couldn't help but point to Madison, who was curled up in the front seat, and ask Ian, "She's my good friend. I can't just let her go home and lie there like that. I have to keep an eye on her." As he spoke, Ian took out the egg that he had placed on Madison's stomach earlier.

It was indeed fully cooked.

Barry Allen was stunned when he saw this.

“This body temperature is probably high enough to kill a person dozens of times over. I think we should send her to the hospital,” suggested the Flash, who has always admired modern science.

“Or send it to Midtown; my friends might be able to help.” He felt that Madison was experiencing a superpower awakening, but the specifics would require further investigation with the help of equipment.

"Who's in charge of your lab now?"

Ian asked.

He wanted to use this to peek into the timeline.

Harrison Wells.

Barry Allen gave an answer that contradicted the timeline.

"No thanks."

Ian secretly gave himself a thumbs up for his caution. "If Ian can save them himself, other magic leaders will think Ian is incompetent."

He maintained his politeness towards his elders, refraining from addressing himself as "Master" in front of his Uncle Barry. Frankly, sending Madison to the Midtown Labs was certainly less desirable than Ian caring for his nanny classmate himself.

after all.

When a person is about to die, Death will appear, and Ian can see Death and influence it. No one can guarantee Madison's safety better than him.

The Hellcat stopped in Kent's yard.

It has its own private room.

“First, we need ice.” Ian didn’t like carrying people, so he hoisted Madison onto his shoulders and headed straight for the door, with Barry Allen limping behind him.

“You can actually put some weight on my left shoulder too.” Barry Allen plopped down on the living room sofa, took a first-aid kit from Ian, and began to fend for himself.

The battle robes definitely need to be taken off.

His body was covered in wounds.

Under dim light.

Barry Allen, now only wearing his underwear, began bandaging his wounds with makeshift equipment. Ian secretly memorized the spot where he was sitting, deciding that it would be his no-go zone from now on.

“I need to cool down my classmate.” Ian carried Madison into the kitchen, and then he saw Jordan squatting by the refrigerator door, secretly eating ice cream.

The two brothers looked at each other.

Jordan's gaze was fixed on the girl on Ian's shoulder.

After three seconds of silence.

"Mom! Ian killed someone!"

Jordan's scream pierced the night sky as he rushed out of the kitchen and yelled upstairs, "He's starting to stop pretending! He's planning to stop eating beef and start eating his classmate's meat instead!"

"Just like he told me when he was six!"

Jordan was terrified.

The boy's voice was really loud after he woke up, and it shook the whole house.

“That was just to scare you, to tell you a ghost story.” Ian tied several bags of ice to Madison’s forehead and stomach, and the ice was already melting and dripping when he walked out of the kitchen.

"That wicked Jordan, how dare he speculate about me so maliciously! Don't even think about borrowing money from me again." Ian only needed one sentence to bring Jordan back to his senses.

Jordan's roar came to an abrupt halt.

He thought of his nighttime companion, which was fried into a flower-shaped sausage, and the price of the new companion. Thus, the scales of justice and family affection in his heart silently tipped.

"What a careless little brother! How can you be without your older brother's help at a time like this? I'll go get you the chainsaw..." Jordan chose to be the thoughtful and good second brother.

This scene.

Barry Allen, who was tending to his wounds in the living room, was dumbfounded.

"Didn't anyone notice I was here? No, could you wait until I leave before discussing such a horrific topic?" He waved the bandage in his hand.

However, Jordan had already rushed out the door to the garage.

"What are you all arguing about so late at night?" Jonathan appeared at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his eyes. He had a cross around his neck, prayer beads on his waist, and colorful amulets wrapped around his wrists. "Mom and Dad were called to work overtime because of Ian playing with the big airplane in the sky tonight."

Jonathan walked down the stairs and didn't see Jordan calling out, but he did see the girl Ian was carrying on his shoulders. He was drowsy, but his eyes immediately cleared.

"Where did you kidnap this little girl from?" Jonathan was shocked and rushed forward to check on her. He was relieved to find that Madison was still breathing.

Just when Barry the Flash, who seemed to be used as a background character and was quietly bandaging his wounds, thought he had finally seen a normal person in the Kent family.

“Ian…this is the girl you picked up on the street, right? I think it would be best to take her to the church. She wasn’t murdered; she’s definitely being haunted by a ghost.”

Jonathan suddenly started whispering to Ian, "The ghost is right here in our living room—yes, I can suddenly see ghosts."

He lowered his voice, trying to remain calm, and spoke with a trembling tone, while constantly giving Ian meaningful glances, gesturing for Ian to look in the direction of The Flash, Barry Allen.

Ian was a little confused.

Jonathan clearly misunderstood Ian's expression.

"Don't be afraid, your big brother is here. He bought a lot of holy water at the church." He pulled a bottle out of his pocket and, as if about to launch a sneak attack, turned around and threw it at Barry Allen.

"..."

Barry Allen caught the bottle Jonathan threw at him without even emitting the Speed ​​Force, a sight that utterly astonished Jonathan.

"Quick, Ian, Big Brother has burned out! Get him out of here!" Jonathan jumped onto Ian's other shoulder, urging him to unleash the super speed typical of Kryptonian families.

"..."

Ian didn't move.

He didn't actually know what was wrong with Jonathan, but he did know that the money Louise and Clark worked so hard to earn every day would very likely end up benefiting Dr. Hannibal.

“That’s how it is in our family, you’ll get used to it.” Ian smiled at Barry Allen. The half-naked Flash, covered in blood and wrapped in bandages, was indeed easy to misunderstand.

To be fair.

Perhaps Jonathan overreacted.

But does the Flash have no faults at all?

“I finally understand why Clark always said he wanted to go back to living in a small town,” Barry Allen murmured, feeling that the Kent family’s three children were indeed not suited to living in the city.

As for where to live.

No matter where it is.

Anyway, that place should be filled with electrotherapy equipment.

……

Perhaps they had already heard that The Flash was suffering.

A loud bang came from the living room.

Clark Kent burst into the house like a blue and red shooting star.

"Dad!"

Jonathan jumped off Ian's shoulder.

"I was just joking with them." He seemed to realize that he might have misjudged the situation, and looked slightly embarrassed, forcing a smile as he tried to save face.

“They’re not usually like this.” Clark thought of the boasts he’d made in the Justice League, and his embarrassment was no less than Jonathan’s.

"Ah."

How else can Barry Allen, the Flash, respond?

He could only nod slightly.

“They are actually very kind kids at heart,” Clark continued to defend his family, just as Jordan, returning from the garage, entered the living room.

"Ian, I've been thinking, you still shouldn't eat your classmates. How about we go out and catch a few bad guys for you to eat? I know there are a few really bad prostitutes in the next block..."

Before he could finish his attempt to comfort Ian, he noticed a magnificent man standing in the living room. Instantly, the boy, whose super hearing was sometimes sharp and sometimes not, felt as if a fishbone was stuck in his throat.

The sound stopped suddenly.

"It is none of my business."

Ian quickly distanced himself from his second brother.

"It has nothing to do with me."

Jonathan immediately started repeating what I said.

"..."

Jordan paused for a moment, then tried to turn and run, but Clark grabbed him and pulled him back. He, Ian, and Jonathan all sat side by side on the sofa in the living room.

Big boys, medium boys, and little boys sat in a row.

They've all become honest.

As for Madison—she's still on Ian's shoulder.

Clark didn't dare to touch her. He noticed the girl's unusual body temperature and realized that Ian's classmate was probably undergoing a change that touched on a blind spot in his knowledge.

What if this change can only be made on Ian's shoulders?

I haven't been exposed to much magical knowledge.

Clark also maintained sufficient caution.

“I think I heard about your situation.” Clark didn’t want to discipline his kid right now; he was more concerned about the conversation between Flash and Ian.

His gaze fell on The Flash's arm.

Barry Allen sat on the old corn-patterned sofa in the Kent family home, the bandages wrapped around his arm unable to block the blue light emanating from the scar beneath.

Looking at the wound through the bandages, Clark's expression was very solemn. He sensed a familiar feeling, very similar to situations he had encountered before.

"This kind of harm will slowly erode your life."

Clark still touched his arm with lingering fear. Only those who have experienced it can understand how powerless and desperate that kind of erosion can feel.

"How long can I live?"

Barry Allen also looked down at the irreparable wound.

Hear the words.

Clark looked at Ian.

"About seven days after infection?"

Ian cited information he had previously gleaned from experience.

"Why didn't you tell me that? Damn it, does that mean I'm going to die soon?" Barry was horrified; he had thought he would live for at least a few more months.

This stuff is even more toxic than cancer!

"I haven't confessed my feelings to Iris or proposed yet!" He emphasized this point, not only because he was genuinely unwilling to accept it, but also to subtly indicate to Ian that he might also be able to escape the category of a single dog.

“Could we try cutting out this piece of meat?” Ian suggested, a very reasonable assessment, while Barry was still weighing the pros and cons.

"I have a chainsaw here."

Jordan, a tough guy, didn't want to make a wasted trip to the garage.

"You want me to just saw off my hand?" Barry Allen's eyes widened, trembling slightly as he recalled Ian's outrageous actions earlier.

Does this family think that anyone can afford to lose a hand?

"Nice idea."

Ian nodded in agreement.

"Cut off whatever is uncomfortable, and we can always find a way to make it grow back. At least we're alive. Even if it doesn't grow back, it shouldn't affect Uncle Barry being the fastest man in the world."

His words silenced Barry Allen.

This is his dominant hand.

We still have to live our lives every day.

"I think my hand can still be saved. Sometimes my head hurts, and someone inside talks to me. You can't expect me to cut off my head along with it, can you?"

Barry Allen sighed, still wanting to opt for conservative treatment.

“That won’t do. The brain contains the body, so it can’t be cut off at all.” Ian suspected that Barry had a mental problem, otherwise how could he have no concept of what parts could be sacrificed and what parts could not be sacrificed?

"Actually, I have a suggestion."

At this time.

Jonathan, who was holding a Buddha statue in one hand and polishing a cross with the other, spoke up, "Why not convert to God, then your hands and your soul will both belong to God."

“God would never stand by and watch someone die. I’ve tried it, and it works great. There really is a God in our world.” He felt that he was truly offering solutions based on practical experience.

however.

Ian seemed to be deep in thought.

The others didn't take it too seriously.

Barry Allen, the Flash, didn't respond at all, but just looked at Clark with a pitiful expression.

"Go back to your dorms."

Clark opened his mouth.

Jordan and Jonathan did as instructed.

Ian is the same.

The three people moved in unison, as if they were experiencing military training.

however.

“You have to stay. You should know more about this than I do.” The old father stopped Ian, who was about to go upstairs to wash up and prepare to enter the Marvel world.

Looking at the time, there were still more than forty minutes left, and Ian could only nod helplessly.

"wait for me."

He found a sleeping bag in the locker, stuffed Madison into it, and sat back down on the sofa.

"Why don't you put your classmate in your bed and then you sleep in the living room tonight?" Clark noticed Madison seemed to be able to get off Ian's shoulder and be thrown onto the sofa.

"Madison and I are indeed friends, but that doesn't mean she can use my bed. That's a matter of principle." Ian actually wanted to be able to keep an eye on whether Death was coming or not.

Clark's temple throbbed.

Then he sighed.

"Your classmate's unusual behavior is probably related to what happened downtown this afternoon?" The father's super brain was actually still functioning properly most of the time.

The information was connected.

"I was brave and fearless back then, saving the world, and tonight I saved the Flash."

Ian nodded, still wanting to showcase his creative talent and boast a little about his achievements, but Clark had already seen through his little scheme.

I won't hit you tonight.

Clark did see through Ian's little scheme.

Ian was relieved.

Where is your boss?

Clark continued to ask questions.

He still remembers how he was rescued.

"The big boss isn't responding, she's acting aloof, maybe she doesn't like The Flash?" Ian asked uncertainly, as he hadn't received any response from Miss Death.

"What big shot? And... I haven't offended anyone, so why would anyone dislike me?" Barry was completely bewildered and still didn't quite understand the situation. So, Clark gave a brief explanation of his youngest son's situation, which was basically about Ian being favored by a legitimate goddess.

obviously.

The elderly father went to investigate the information Ian had given about "death".

"Hiss, no wonder he said he was omniscient." Barry looked at Ian with suspicion, since there had been demigods like Wonder Woman in the Justice League.

He's quite accepting of these kinds of things. The only thing that confuses this Flash is that he doesn't usually have the opportunity to offend such people, does he?
“That kind of existence is still too far away from us. We can’t pin our hopes on the will of the universe having mercy on us.” Clark sighed as he looked out the window at the starry sky.

Although he felt very uncomfortable, The Flash agreed with this statement.

“First it was me, then it was you. This is definitely not a coincidence.” With that, Clark took out his phone and dialed a number. “I have a very strong intuition.”

“This so-called extraterrestrial invasion is probably not such a simple problem.” Superman’s call was quickly connected, and Bruce Wayne’s deep voice came from the other end.

He hasn't even opened his mouth to explain the situation yet.

"I'll be there soon."

Bruce Wayne's deep voice seemed to indicate that he understood everything.

This didn't surprise anyone.

Everyone knows Batman's reputation. He can't monitor Superman, but he certainly can. In fact, some of the products on the Flash come from Wayne Enterprises' raw material supply.

“Uncle Bruce wasn’t corrupted in this situation, which I find rather strange. He should have been the first to suffer.” Ian was both polite and somewhat impolite.

His confusion, from his perspective, wasn't directed at Bruce.

however.

Bruce hung up the phone in a still very rude tone.

"dududu~"

A blind tone appears.

Clark was just about to put down his phone.

He seemed to have remembered something else.

“You need to call Dr. Hannibal back. He woke up this afternoon and found you were gone, so he asked me about it.” Clark handed his phone to Ian.

Ian took the phone and walked to the window.

He made the call using the half-cell phone Batman had given him. After all, using Clark's phone less often would save on phone bills and allow him to accumulate more wealth for his family.

"Hello~"

After the call is connected.

The background noise included the crisp sound of knives and forks clattering.

Hannibal looked like he was eating.

"You sound like you're having a big meal."

Ian twitched his nose, as if he could smell the scent through the phone.

"Beef liver with red wine, a classic that never goes out of style." Hannibal's voice remained elegant; he seemed to be listening to music. This man truly knew how to enjoy life after get off work.

"That's quite a feast."

Ian took the notebook.

Start querying the number of deaths due to missing livers.

"Ian, you woke up before me this afternoon, didn't you?" Hannibal asked again in a confused voice. What happened that afternoon had indeed caught everyone off guard.

"I don't know what happened. When I woke up, I was lying on the street. Maybe I was captured by aliens and then released?" Ian wasn't telling the truth.

Hannibal did not express any doubt.

“I imagine giving an interview must be exhausting,” he said softly to Ian, changing the subject before Ian could even respond.

"I will not charge for this treatment due to unforeseen circumstances."

have to say.

Professionalism might still be reflected in Hannibal's actions.

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter."

Ian quickly thanked him.

Maintain proper manners.

“I can sense in your voice some unspoken questions about me,” Hannibal continued, his sensitivity to his patients’ emotions indeed somewhat unusual.

"Forehead."

Ian's main problem was that he couldn't find any information about the deaths of the individuals in question.

"Actually, the thing is this," Ian said, choosing to change the subject. "I have a friend who has amnesia. Is there any way to help him remember our intimate relationship?"

He asked very sincerely.

But this was met with a long silence from Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

"Implanting false memories into someone is illegal," Dr. Hannibal cautioned after noticing Ian's apparent obsession with the issue.

"What if the law doesn't protect him?"

Ian, unwilling to give up, spoke up.

He felt that the Dream God was probably not a legal citizen of America.

Hear the words.

Hannibal remained silent for a moment.

“If it’s purely academic research, there’s a technique in psychology called ‘dream implantation.’” He ultimately chose to answer Ian’s question.

"Never mind then, I can't grow hedgehog quills on my face, so I lack confidence and can't pull off this trick." Ian said regretfully, he didn't want to try to show off his skills in front of the Dream God.

“I can hear a lot of metaphors in your words, which may be a sign that you are closing yourself off. If you need to talk about anything, you can come to me anytime.”

Hannibal was thoughtfully profiling Ian.

He's a nice person.

I just hope that children who don't have any worries don't have more tender livers.

"Good night, Dr. Hannibal. Since you've shown some concern for me, I should show some concern for you too. To be honest, you really should eat more vegetables."

Ian hung up the phone after he finished speaking.

On the other end of the dial tone.

"A very difficult patient."

Hannibal sat in his own dining room, elegantly enjoying foie gras with red wine.

The candlelight illuminated the blood-red sauce on the table.

He chewed the last piece of liver thoughtfully.

Then, the sound of a key turning rang out, and a young girl walked in humming a song. The few freckles on the tip of her nose made her look like the kind of girl next door that Europeans and Americans love.

"I'm back."

The girl's voice came from the entrance.

Accompanied by the crisp sound of high heels clicking on the floor.

"Hmm? I smell fresh short ribs. You brought me a gift." Hannibal looked up, a near-perfect smile playing on his lips.

That kind of gentle smile that can put people at ease.

"Your nose is still so sensitive. Will said he came to see you this afternoon?" The girl changed into a pair of slippers, picked up a bag of groceries, and headed towards the refrigerator in the kitchen.

"Is Will asking you again who my favorite patient is?" Hannibal put down his knife upon hearing this, the silver handle gleaming coldly under the light.

"Yes, he contacts me often, maybe he likes me."

The girl stared at the drinks in the refrigerator as if she were searching for something.

A cool breeze, like a thin mist, swept across her cheek. The LED light from the refrigerator illuminated her profile—young, refined, and brimming with vitality.

"Keep your distance from him."

Hannibal walked in from outside and, behind the girl, drew a narrow-bladed boning knife from the rack. The blade twirled between his fingers like a silver snake.

“The best short ribs can’t be stored in the refrigerator. Let’s have an extra meal tonight.” With that, Hannibal took out his knife and walked toward the girl who had her back to him.

His leather shoes stepped on the floor without making a sound.

"You still love eating meat so much."

The girl didn't turn around, but just sighed. Her finger stopped on a shelf in the refrigerator, and she spoke with a very relaxed tone, as if she were talking about the weather.

“Some patients advised me to eat more vegetables today, but I think protein intake is very important,” Hannibal replied softly from behind the girl.

The girl still didn't turn around.

She simply took a piece of beef wrapped in brown paper from her shopping bag and handed it behind her back.

"I need it fully cooked."

The girl even made a request.

Hear the words.

Hannibal chuckled softly.

He took the beef, running his fingertips along the grain of the meat as if caressing a work of art. Then, the man walked to the cutting board, the blade lightly slicing across the wrapping paper.

A faint tearing sound came from the cutting board.

“Normally, I wouldn’t satisfy such a disrespectful request for top-quality ingredients.” Hannibal’s tone was tinged with helplessness as he began to process the ingredients the girl had handed him.

"But what can I do? You're my sister."

The man's tone was filled with doting affection.

“If you really love me, then you should transfer Will to me. His situation is too special.” The girl seized the opportunity to make her request, looking at Hannibal with pleading eyes.

obviously.

This girl is also a psychology expert.

“Will is dangerous, and I need you to stay away from danger.” Hannibal’s hand paused for a moment, the knife tip hovering above the beef, as he firmly refused his sister.

"The death of a wife and children can indeed make a person's mental state very unstable, but what we psychologists do is help them regain their peace."

The girl remained noncommittal about her assessment of Hannibal.

She still holds firm to her beliefs.

“Will is different.”

Hannibal bent down to process the ingredients, the blade falling again, precisely cutting the meat into chunks. The cutting board made a rhythmic tapping sound as the meat was divided into perfect sizes.

The force of each cut was so precise it was outrageous.

“Brother, you should really be a butcher.” The girl walked up to Hannibal while drinking orange juice, first sighing, then asking curiously.

"How is Will different from your other patients?"

She was still trying to find out more about the patient's condition.

"Several times recently, I've smelled blood on him..."

Hannibal stopped what he was doing and looked out the window.

Before I knew it, it had started to drizzle outside.

Raindrops meandered down the glass window like transparent snakes.

"That's definitely not the smell of blood that animals should have."

His voice trailed off, like a stone falling into the deep sea. The girl silently finished the last sip of orange juice, the glass making a soft clatter as it rested on the table.

"Oops."

The girl gasped in surprise.

"You be careful."

Hannibal quickly bandaged his sister's wound.

outside the house.

The sound of rain grew louder.

On the brightly lit streets.

The neon lights blurred into indistinct patches of color in the rain. A man in a black raincoat stood at the alley entrance, raindrops dripping from the brim of his hat and forming small puddles on the ground.

"This is money."

The man's voice was hoarse.

It was as if they hadn't spoken in a long time.

A few thugs handed him a black leather suitcase, which he took with one hand, keeping his other hand in his pocket the whole time.

"Next time, at the same time, don't make me come looking for you." The man didn't open it immediately, but simply weighed it lightly in his hand, then nodded and turned to leave.

He walked to his car parked by the roadside, opened the door, and tossed the suitcase onto the passenger seat. The lid popped open slightly, revealing a glimpse of what was inside.

It was a very fresh head.

"In the afternoon, the boy realized something was wrong with me—he needed to die, but I don't eat boys, so I have to find a way to dispose of his body," the man muttered with a ferocious expression as he drove.

He seemed to be talking to himself.

It was as if he was talking to someone who only existed in his imagination.

Will Graham

In the passenger seat.

The nameplate on the clothing was illuminated by the headlights of passing cars.

It gleamed with a metallic sheen.

Very conspicuous.

perhaps.

Good people can turn bad.

Even bad people can turn good.

To complete such a story.

All that's needed is for fate to gently pluck a string.

……

Rainwater slid down the eaves.

The roof of the Kent's house had already been repaired.

It won't leak.

After being completely drained of information, Ian was eventually sent back to his dorm by his ruthless father.

"The Justice League is assembling, but I'm not in it. It's so painful." The moment the door closed, he collapsed onto the bed like a fish washed ashore, the spring mattress groaning under the weight.

Madison was thrown under the bed by Ian.

She really shouldn't be sleeping in the bed.

“When I wake up, I need to think things through. The Justice League can’t do without me, just like… well, it can’t do without Jerusalem.” Ian glanced at the alarm clock on his desk.

His timing is always spot on.

His update schedule is more accurate than some struggling authors.

This is not.

I had only been back in my room for a short while.

The minute and hour hands had already aligned on the mark where one should absolutely not be awake. The next moment, Ian fell straight back onto the pillow like a robot that had been unplugged.

The moment you close your eyes.

A new world was already unfolding before his eyes.

"Oh, guests have arrived so early?"

A hearty laugh rang out, and Ian found himself in a restaurant. The shimmering gold light reflected from the crystal chandeliers made him momentarily disoriented.

"What place are you doing here, buddy?"

Ian found himself sitting at an intricately carved walnut dining table, the deep red velvet chairs as soft as giant hands. A strange aroma of rosemary and sea salt filled the air.

"It's the Odin's Son Restaurant."

The cheerful male voice rang out again.

Ian looked up.

I saw.

A bearded man wearing an oil-stained apron is banging a cast iron pot with a pitchfork.

"Want to know about a giant octopus that was just transported from Asgard to Earth and is still lively?" The man's belly was as round as an over-fermented loaf of bread, and there were a few suspicious scales between his golden-red beard.

He is.

Thor.

　I still owe 3000 words, I'll add them to tomorrow's chapter.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)