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

Chapter 118 The Real Crisis! The Beginning of Destruction?
Running wildly is not running aimlessly.

Running wildly is not the same as blindly sprinting.

Instead, it's running with direction, rhythm, and a goal.

It requires not only a deep understanding of the current situation, but also a strategic calibration of the path ahead, and an understanding of the dialectical relationship between "running wildly" and "running haphazardly".

Anyway, for Ian, who no longer needs to take the civil service exam, controlling his running pace is not an easy task, mainly because the speed of his legs with the Speed ​​Force external is just too fast.

Ian's reaction speed was nowhere near the speed of the Speed ​​Force's legs. So several times he had to rely on anticipation and use teleportation to forcefully change direction and avoid obstacles.

Everything around seemed to have stopped.

Without the eyes of a speedster, Ian's eyesight was poor; the buildings on either side were blurred into blocks of color, and the oncoming car headlights formed a blinding river of light.

It was just a brief moment of confusion.

Suddenly, a crossroads crowded with drunk men and women appeared before him.

"Disdain for leaps!"

Fortunately, Ian's reaction speed wasn't bad either, just not quite at the level of a speedster. He immediately used his teleportation skill to leap to the front of the obstacle.

The drunkards escaped a terrible fate, avoiding becoming a pile of minced meat—Ian also escaped a terrible fate, avoiding becoming the train engine that ran over the protagonist's girlfriend in the world of "The Boys."

"This speed is somewhat beyond our expectations."

Ian continued to charge forward, propelled by the Speed ​​Force in his legs.

"Pfft~"

Behind.

He left behind an afterimage when he activated teleportation.

He farted wildly at the group of drunk men and women who were having a wild time in the middle of the road.

This is one of the uses of the [Tyrant's Shadow] that Ian has newly researched: it can convert the energy left behind into an explosion... or perhaps it's not just an explosion in the conventional sense.

Poop, pee, and farts.

You can choose one of the three.

How can this not be considered a good deed?

The drunkards, who had been "bionically attacked," scattered and vomited violently. They were mostly sober now, and there would obviously be fewer people infected with syphilis warts in the metropolis tonight.

"dudu~"

A large truck behind them had its driver dozing off, thus avoiding the fate of having to exert himself to survive.

of course.

Ian knew nothing about any of this.

Because a second sharp bend was already looming in front of him. This time it was an alleyway piled high with trash cans, and Ian dodged to the side at the last second.

His back brushed past a rusty metal trash can.

The boxed lunches that had been thrown away in the trash can were overturned by the airflow, and the fried chicken pieces inside drew an arc in the air and landed right in the mouth of a homeless man sleeping on the ground next to him.

The aroma of the food prompted the homeless man to unconsciously utter a word of praise.

"Oh, it's my favorite fried chicken, it's so much better than donuts."

The homeless man murmured softly in his sleep.

"My dad's stuff is amazing, it must be a gift from God." The homeless man was awakened by the aroma of food and the strong wind. He found fried chicken in his mouth and began to chew frantically.

He didn't even notice that it was something that had splashed out of the trash can. In fact, he hadn't even seen Ian; Ian had run several blocks away by the time the homeless man woke up.

There were several close calls along the way.

However, Ian handled them all with ease.

“Thanks to the shared brain of the Asgardians… I never expected Thor’s brain to be so useful.” Ian was using the brains of his followers as biological computers.

This allows him to minimize the risk of collisions, even when his body is moving at high speed and his nerve reflexes cannot respond in a timely and effective manner.

Thor himself probably didn't realize his divine brain possessed such computational capabilities. Ian was also surprised, and he also didn't anticipate that the Speed ​​Force's legs would be so unruly.

Ian is adjusting the direction.

But all it wanted to do was drag Ian around the city—the two legs of the Time Wraith were like wild horses that had been imprisoned for many years, dragging Ian through the night of the metropolis as it frantically used the Speed ​​Force.

What they wanted to do could not be hidden from Ian's eyes, because Ian had already seen the Speed ​​Force channel gradually forming, and these two pairs of legs clearly wanted to return to the Speed ​​Force.

“Sizzle, sizzle—”

The vortex in the Speed ​​Force channel was spinning erratically. However, before Ian could see what was inside, the crack collapsed as if it had been snapped shut by an invisible hand.

It does not allow passage.

Unwilling to give up, Ian continued his sprint, attempting to open a passage time and again, but each attempt ended in failure. Gradually, even the vortex of the crack disappeared.

Berserker Experience +2

Berserker Experience +1

Berserker Experience +1

……

Ian suffered lacerations in both legs, but he considered it a reward as he gradually tried to use his body to twist and control the direction of his exoskeleton legs as he ran.

The exoskeleton of the lower leg ultimately has no brain.

Ian, on the other hand, has more than one brain.

He also has the minds of his followers.

Therefore.

Two legs with superhuman speed were no match for Ian's cheat code—gradually, Ian was able to completely control the direction of his run, and he became like a red lightning bolt on the city's highways.

Under the night sky of the metropolis.

The red speeder whipped up a gust of wind in the rain.

Perhaps due to some characteristic of the Time Wraith itself, the red arcs of electricity leaped across the asphalt road like living things, and wherever they passed, the transformers on the utility poles burst into blinding sparks.

Amidst the sounds of explosions, "bang bang bang".

The lights along the entire street went out one after another.

Almost all the roadside shops were affected to varying degrees at night.

"Look! It's The Flash!" a drunkard shouted, pointing at the trail of lightning in the sky. "The Flash is in Metropolis! I'm not mistaken! That must be the Flash from TV!"

On a dark street.

The beams of several flashlights swayed wildly.

A well-dressed urban elite pushes open the glass door.

His face was gloomy.

"Running to the metropolis at night, the Flash is definitely up to no good!" This urban elite seemed to see through everything. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and continued speaking with great certainty.

"Metropolis and Midtown are vying for the title of advanced city, so Midtown sent the Flash to sabotage Metropolis's image and try to make us look like a city that can't even afford electricity."

Urban elites are indeed elites, having endured the darkest trials of society. His words gave many a sudden sense of clarity, as if they had glimpsed the unknown side of superheroes.

"I never imagined that urban power struggles were just as ruthless as business battles... or even more vicious! I can't even drink coffee and work overtime anymore!" The female office worker holding the file folder gasped.

She felt she had found an excuse to ask for leave tomorrow.

The blame lies with The Flash.

Many people share similar thoughts with this female office worker and agree with the urban elite's speculation—that's just human nature, and they are more willing to believe in conspiracy theories that superheroes also collude with bureaucrats.

Just now.

At the entrance of a convenience store.

A reporter with a full beard walked out, munching on a hot dog—he had received a special bonus from the editor-in-chief for his previous report on the "Batman's Night Raid on the Widow in Metropolis" incident.

So you can eat four or five hot dogs at a time.

“It’s not necessarily a conflict between cities; this kind of topic is very difficult to get attention in the news,” the reporter said, squinting his eyes. His professional instincts told him that he had a bigger story to tell.

"Have you ever thought about it? The Flash is constantly generating electricity wherever he goes, so where does his electricity come from?" This was indeed a tricky angle, and the reporter's probing question immediately startled the onlookers on the side of the road.

Regarding the Speed ​​Force.

Ordinary people certainly wouldn't understand.

They are more willing to believe in modern science, either what they have learned or what they have simply heard about.

"Could it be stolen electricity?"

A young man wearing a baseball cap stared in astonishment.

The reporter was taken aback at first.

immediately.

"Although I think that given the Flash's status, the government would definitely cover his electricity bill, your suggestion is also valid, and it would certainly generate more buzz."

The reporter immediately pulled out his laptop and began editing the news.

[Shocking! The Flash Mystery! Superhero or Electricity Bill Thief?]

He really has a knack for naming things.

It immediately generated a huge buzz.

"Just like Batman must have been bitten by a bat, the Flash must have been bitten by high voltage—he's an Indian electrician!" This comes after the previous discovery of Batman's origins.

The reporter felt he had found another origin story for The Flash.

Or perhaps they have a real identity.

Just as the reporter was already excited, convinced that his news story would win another award, and that his late-night hot dogs would be upgraded from five to ten.

"Zizzizi~"

The four-legged Flash had already run to the edge of the city. Ian had almost mastered his exoskeleton legs, and his target was, of course, Luthor's factories outside the city.

outside the city.

There are no streetlights.

However, there were several car lights.

"My power is not only for protecting myself, but also for protecting the people I love and this city." The grassroots superhero Black Thunder is telling his own story while stepping on a gang leader.

He was surrounded by crackling electricity.

Three trucks loaded with munitions were frozen in mid-air by his electromagnetic field.

Like a beetle pinned in a specimen box.

As a Black man born and raised in the "suicide ghetto" of the metropolis, Black Lightning's background is very traditional; his father was shot and killed in an accident.

So Blackie has always struggled alongside his mother, and has never experienced fatherly love since he was very young—of course, he is different from most single-parent Black children who go on to sing, dance, and rap.

Black Lightning chose to become a teacher, but also, driven by fate, became a superhero. He can release and manipulate electrical energy and has the potential to control electromagnetic properties like Magneto.

now.

Black Lightning is already a veteran, obscure superhero who specializes in solving problems that Superman doesn't have time to deal with, such as this extremely serious smuggling case.

"Several truckloads of smuggled weapons, ready to be transported to Mexico?" Black Lightning tapped the front cargo box with the tip of his boot, and the metal casing cracked open like a banana peel under the electromagnetic force.

“That’s enough to keep you in jail for a lifetime—or maybe several lifetimes.” Black Lightning tried to intimidate others with his hoarse voice, mimicking Batman’s deep tone.

only.

"Ah."

The gang leader he stepped on also looked like a tough guy. His expression remained cold in the face of Black Thunderbolt's threat, showing no sign of despair or panic.

He was incredibly calm.

The same goes for the other gang members.

of course.

These men's composure and tough-guy image didn't last long—a red lightning bolt streaked from afar, smashing through three large cargo containers at a speed too fast for the naked eye to perceive.

"You're welcome."

Ian was just passing by.

While he's at it, he'll also help that nobody superhero destroy those dangerous items, since these guns are obviously not legitimate and would definitely endanger his metropolis if they were brought into the city.

"Boom~"

The metal cargo box twisted and burst like a soda can being crushed by a giant.

Hundreds of gun parts were sprayed into the night sky like a shower of flowers.

It traced a shimmering parabola under the moonlight.

Then it was destroyed by the golden lightning that Ian pretended to throw out—it was actually a heat ray, but Ian wiped it on his eyes, and it naturally became the Flash's ability to throw lightning.

Anyway, as long as there is a throwing motion.

Everyone would believe Ian is the real Flash. See, even Black Lightning, a near-obscure superhero, clearly didn't notice anything amiss.

"Flash!"

Black Lightning roared in the direction Ian had disappeared, "This is my case! It's my business! Go back to your Midtown! Did you even ask Superman about this in Metropolis?"

"The Flash, you dare to invade! Did you pay Superman's agent a 'hero entry fee'?!" His question was filled with anger, and he seemed to feel offended.

"?????"

Ian, who had already run three kilometers, suddenly stumbled.

"Hero registration fee?"

Ian felt that someone had stolen his ideas for the future from the past.

He was genuinely a bit bewildered.

Black Thunderbolt's words made him turn around repeatedly.

However, the speed does not decrease.

The two heavy artillery pieces that he casually picked up from the warehouse were obviously obsolete US military equipment and could not be used for braking at all—of course, the problem of not being able to stop the car was not a big deal.

Ian also has a braking scheme where he can teleport into the sky and then remove his external legs.

"No, I swear, this really has nothing to do with me." Ian had already run too far away, and his reply to defend his reputation was not heard by Black Lightning, who had been left far behind.

Black Lightning was still bombarding the Flash with insults—Black people certainly have a rich vocabulary. However, there were others whose emotional swings were even greater than his.

The tough-guy gang leader from before is clearly more vulnerable now.

"Do not!!!"

The gang leader, looking at the wreckage, let out a hysterical roar, and his henchmen were also shouting in alarm, their voices filled with an unusual panic.

"Ok?"

Black Thunderbolt was greatly puzzled by this.

"Someone helped you destroy the evidence, so why are you still so unhappy?" Black Lightning frowned, suppressing his dissatisfaction with the Flash.

The gang leader struggled to remove the belts binding him.

"Unhappy? I'm just unhappy, you idiot?" The gang leader and his henchmen rushed towards the wreckage, the parts of which had all turned into charred ashes.

"I'm about to be fired! That damn Flash! Look what he's done!" the gang leader wailed, rolling around in front of the ashes on the ground, his face full of rage.

"Dismissed? What do you mean? You're still online?"

Black Lightning sensed something was wrong, and electricity began to surge in his hands. He prepared to threaten the gang leader in order to destroy the larger criminal organization that he had not yet discovered.

perhaps.

Will I end up joining the Justice League because of this?
I dreamt of it all.

Black Thunderbolt's illusions were quickly shattered.

"Upline? I'm a CIA agent! We're all CIA employees! Jefferson Pierce! You're as dead as I am! This shipment was ordered by the president to be sent to Mexico!"

The gangster boss's furious response literally burned Black Thunderbolt's brain.

"?????"

His face was blank, and the current in his hand was becoming unstable.

"No! According to my intelligence, you are clearly people planted in America by the Mexican drug cartel!" Black Lightning asked, his eyes trembling violently.

The gang leader simply hurled insults at him.

"What kind of intelligence do you have! Fuck you! Use your pig brain to think! We're the CIA, so the drug cartel is obviously just a bunch of wolf cubs that the CIA is raising on the outside!"

"This is a national strategy—Jefferson Pierce!"

“If you can’t return my weapon, you’ll be the one going to jail. I guarantee that once you’re in there, it won’t be for a lifetime.”

The gang leader turned around and threatened Black Thunderbolt.

He didn't seem to be lying.

Because he was genuinely panicked and furious.

"..."

Black Thunderbolt found it hard to accept this absurd reality. He had thought that the crimes he had stopped were at most backed by large criminal organizations, but who would have thought that he had actually stumbled upon a state apparatus.

America's official smuggling weapons.

Is this still considered a sin?
All of a sudden.

Black Lightning experienced a brief period of confusion regarding his career.

"But... the person who destroyed your weapons was the Flash..." He knew he couldn't figure out the answer right away, but there were some issues he felt he should emphasize.

The previously ruthless Black Thunderbolt now seems a little cowardly. Well, what can you do? The other party even called him by his real name.

He also has two daughters.

I don't want my daughter to be legally sent back to the land where our ancestors lived.

"Huh? You're the one who caught us, and you're also the one who put the stuff there. Who else could be the culprit but you?" The gang leader's twisted logic truly shocked Black Thunder.

Of course he understands.

This is a case of shifting the blame onto someone who's easy to mess with. The CIA might not be able to handle The Flash, but the CIA can definitely handle Black Lightning. There's definitely a difference between a third-rate superhero and a first-rate one.

"..." Black Thunder fell silent for a moment.

He felt that his career was facing unprecedented challenges.

Is the Flash to blame?
Ah.

Does someone the CIA can't mess with mean you can mess with yourself? The Flash is from the Justice League, and according to Superman's agent, the Justice League is a gang-like organization.

"That's right! I paid the money! They can't not help me with this!" Actually, Black Thunderbolt wasn't a coward, but when faced with the state apparatus, he really didn't know how to deal with it.

"I've paid the entry fee! I'm a reserve member! I'll definitely contact the organization if anything happens!" With a sudden flash of inspiration, Black Lightning quickly pulled out an encrypted phone and walked to a corner.

He turned back and threatened the CIA agents before dialing a number. The phone rang twelve times before being answered, and a deliberately hoarse whisper came from the other end.

"Say, what's the matter?"

The other person's voice was concise and clear.

"Is such that……"

Black Thunderbolt also explained the difficult situation he was facing. He tried to seek help from his "agent" on the other end of the phone, but the agent fell into a long silence after hearing this.

"Ok?"

Black Thunderbolt sensed something was wrong.

"Did you promise me that joining the reserves, getting a license, and enjoying a range of assistance would be my way?" He lowered his voice, but his tone still carried a hint of accusation.

"Um... but my brother's comics, no, I mean, my brother who was in charge of drafting the details, never mentioned how to handle this kind of thing."

The voice on the other end of the phone sounded helpless, as if they had touched on a blind spot in their knowledge.

"If you can't fix it, give me my money back! Damn it! Give me my money back!" Black Thunder was so angry that his whole body was crackling with electricity, as if he was about to awaken a new ability. He was truly furious and felt like he had been scammed.

Upon hearing about the refund...

The person on the other end of the phone panicked immediately.

After all, the money had already been spent, and the things they bought had exploded.

"I didn't say I wouldn't help you find a solution. Well, how about this: when our management strategist returns, he'll definitely be able to come up with a perfect solution for you."

"You have to trust his intelligence; he's the smartest person in our family... in our department." The voice on the other end of the phone was hoarse, sounding anxious to explain.

They lowered their voices, as if they were hiding in some corner.

"Can you really solve it? I don't think your organization is a legitimate one." Black Thunderbolt didn't really believe the boy, but he believed the heat radiating from the boy's eyes.

"Of course it's a legitimate organization. Don't doubt our background—in fact, if you can pay enough, I can even get you Superman's underwear."

"You'll have to pay extra if it's not washed."

When the other person mentioned selling goods, they seemed to perk up instantly.

only.

Black Thunderbolt fell silent for a moment.

"I don't want that stuff, I just want to get rid of this problem." He said helplessly, increasingly feeling that the other party was unreliable, but he really couldn't find any other connections in the upper-class hero circle.

"understand!"

The other person suddenly lowered their voice.

"I'm hanging up now, I have to go serve the Flash, he's so difficult to deal with." With that, the mysterious man hung up the phone, leaving Black Lightning looking bewildered with his phone going dead.

"The Flash really did come to Metropolis! And he must be going to a high-end superhero gathering!" Thinking this, Black Lightning looked enviously in the direction the Flash had left earlier.

He wanted to use this to figure out the location of the gathering—of course, no matter how smart Black Lightning was, he would never get any results, since the Flash he saw was actually someone else.

far away.

Suburbs.

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +13]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +12]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +14]

……

The real Flash searched three of Lex Luthor's factories, but his luck wasn't great. However, he did make some good stuff, grabbing some of the factory's premium drinks and going on a rampage.

along the way.

On the way to the next factory.

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +11]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +14]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +11]

Within a few minutes' walk.

Ian immediately filled his stomach to the brim.

【Savage Tyrant lv7 [22/640]】

Strength: 62-76

Physical fitness: 80-90

Intelligence: 4.8 - 5.1

[Mental state: 36-39]

[Upgrade Reward: +1 Job Skill Point]

Ian had become quite adept at using his exoskeleton legs, and maintaining his unparalleled speed, he began charging toward yet another of Luther's suburban factories.

Actually, this isn't really a waste of time.

After all, it has the speed boost from the exoskeleton calf.

Everything happened.

Both can be described as happening in the blink of an eye.

Moreover, the additional power boost gave Ian a bit more confidence. He still couldn't figure out what Reverse-Flash meant by the beginning of the Justice League's downfall.

"Also, the pain of losing loved ones will make us grow... Is it another Superman's death? No, it's not like that, because Reverse-Flash said that today is just the beginning of the Justice League's downfall." Ian, who had been in a shared brain state, had an astonishing computing ability. He seemed to suddenly realize something and his expression changed drastically.

A terrible thought flashed through the boy's mind, which made him suddenly jump up, make a 360-degree turn, and run towards the city center without hesitation.

It's raining heavily.

Ian looked anxious.

At this moment.

His original destination was the factory.

In fact, they were already very close behind him.

That was a sewage treatment plant.

The interior was completely quiet.

There are no employees.

There are only two superheroes in the basement.

The basement was dimly lit.

The air was filled with the smell of metal and chemical reagents.

“No wonder I couldn’t find this place before.” Superman stroked the thick wall, which was filled with a thick layer of lead plates that could block his superhuman vision.

As for the innermost layer...

It is inlaid with some unknown rare metal. Superman and Wonder Woman have already tested it, and this unknown metal can even block his hearing.

“It seems Luthor really does know how to guard against you.” Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth glowed faintly in the darkness as she surveyed her surroundings, a bad premonition rising within her.

“Whatever Luthor doesn’t want you to find out, it’s definitely not a good thing,” Diana said firmly, after all, Luthor’s reputation was known to all the superheroes on Earth.

"Yes, that's Luther."

Superman was also very certain of Diana's judgment.

The two continued descending the steel staircase, their footsteps unusually clear in the enclosed space. As they went deeper, the air began to fill with an even stronger, more pungent smell of chemicals.

It had a faint smell of blood.

"That's the smell of Kryptonian blood, or more precisely, the smell of my blood... but there's something else too." Superman's sense of smell far surpasses that of many people whose superpower is smell.

He wrinkled his nose.

His gaze grew even more serious.

“Your clone must be hidden here by Luthor.” Diana’s nose wasn’t nearly as sensitive as Superman’s, but she did sense that this underground base was unusual.

Such a huge investment of funds was required for construction.

It certainly isn't some ordinary research base.

The two continued down a narrow staircase, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the air became. At the top of the stairs was a heavy metal door, bearing the LexCorp logo. Just as Wonder Woman was about to step forward, Superman melted the lock with his heat vision.

"Zizzizi~"

The heat rays dissolved all the metals.

The room hidden behind the metal door was revealed.

I saw.

It was a secret room.

In the center of the secret room stood a huge cross, with a dying person chained to it.

Upon seeing the person's face clearly, Superman and Wonder Woman both froze in shock—it was another Clark! Beneath the messy black hair was a face exactly like Clark's!
Of course, there were also subtle differences. Clark's skin, which was bound, was a sickly grayish-white with purple veins and dark green stuff flowing in them.

The "S" logo on Superman's chest was corroded and became incomplete by some kind of acidic substance.

It's completely blurry.

"This is the clone you were talking about? It's terrifying." Wonder Woman unconsciously took a half step back, the light from the Lasso of Truth illuminating her taut jawline.

This is genuinely nerve-wracking.

After all, most of the members of the Justice League have been beaten up by Superman.

Diana was no exception.

She truly knows how painful it is to be beaten up by Superman.

"Luther... what is he doing?"

Superman did not answer Wonder Woman's question.

His gaze was fixed on the seemingly ordinary wall behind the cross, his pupils contracting sharply, as if he could see something terrifying through that wall.

"Clark?"

Wonder Woman is somewhat worried that her teammates are being mind-controlled.

She took a few steps back again.

Superman didn't comment on this. Clark's expression was one of unprecedented shock. He slowly walked forward and walked around the image of himself bound to the cross.

"here."

Clark's trembling hand pressed against the cold wall. With a metallic groan, he ripped the wall open, and a blinding beam of light suddenly poured out from within.

The space in front of us is incredibly vast.

Like a vast underground hall, countless automated machines were in operation, emitting a low hum. In the center of the hall were rows of neatly arranged dark green culture chambers.

inside.

These are things that make Superman break out in a cold sweat, his voice hoarse, and his heart churning with turmoil—each incubation chamber contains a life form being cultivated.

It's all him!

They're all Superman Clark!

Yes!

Within this underground space, roughly the size of a football field, lay hundreds of three-meter-high, dark green incubation chambers. Each chamber was connected to a complex network of pipes, and the bodies suspended in the fel-infused nutrient solution were all superhuman clones! Each one bore the marks of being corrupted and strengthened by fel energy!

“I knew he was crazy, but I didn’t expect him to be this crazy.” Clark looked around at all the “selves” and couldn’t help but gasp.

Say something.

Superman's emotions were still relatively stable.

When Wonder Woman stepped forward and saw this scene, her pretty face turned several shades paler, her eyes almost popped out, and she looked extremely stiff.

"Tell me this isn't true."

Diana swallowed hard, her hand gripping the weapon trembling.

And right now.

"Bang bang bang~"

Perhaps someone is manipulating things.

All the Supermen in the incubation chambers opened their eyes. They simultaneously swung their fists, and the glass of hundreds of incubation chambers shattered at the same time, with pale blue nutrient solution gushing out like a tsunami.

"Zizzizi~"

The sound was like the buzzing of bees.

The clones all slowly floated out.

They stood suspended in mid-air in the room.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes, glowing red, lit up under the lights.

Their movements were so synchronized it was chilling.

"Diana, go and capture Luther."

Clark's voice was unusually calm.

"Leave this to me."

He seemed utterly unafraid of the large number of clones.

"it is good!"

Wonder Woman's fingertips dug into her palm.

She knew that if these clones possessed power comparable to Superman, the help she could offer by staying here would be meaningless; the greatest help she could give Clark was to quickly capture the culprit behind everything.

then.

Diana took immediate action.

As she couldn't help but turn back to look at Clark, who had rushed into the lab and was smashing several clones together, suddenly, a hand rose up and grabbed her wrist.

Very strong.

Even demigods would find it difficult to break free.

"Damn it!"

Wonder Woman was about to strike the clone that had suddenly awakened on the cross.

But the clone raised its head.

“Luthor… wants Superman… to destroy… this… world.” These words immediately startled Wonder Woman, causing her to abruptly stop her sword strike. Wonder Woman realized that the other party might be able to communicate.

"what?"

Wonder Woman's pupils contracted sharply.

"What benefit does Luthor gain from doing this? If Superman destroys the world, Luthor himself won't survive either. What's in it for him?"

She was utterly puzzled by what this frail superman was saying.

Upon inquiry.

I saw.

The "zombie superman" bound by chains weakly raised his head.

His chapped lips twitched.

"He...is not your...Luthor..." The zombie-like Superman suddenly roared, his fingers tightening so much that Wonder Woman's wrist guards groaned under the strain.

however.

Wonder Woman can no longer care about her equipment.

Just listen.

"They...they are not..."

After using his last bit of strength, the zombie superhero fell unconscious again.

however.

These words struck Diana like a bolt of lightning.

they?

Which "them"?!
Just as Wonder Woman's mind was buzzing, as if she were realizing something terrifying—in Metropolis, on the other side, in a newspaper office occupying an entire building, Louise was working overtime writing an article while petting her cat.

"What do you mean you're preparing to go back and get beaten up? Ian really wants to get beaten up!"

She was writing news articles about "Stocking Superman" under pressure from her boss.

I have a terrible headache.

"Meow~"

suddenly.

The orange cat, which had been purring, suddenly sat up from Louise's lap, its fur standing on end. It raised its eyes and looked toward the elevator entrance in the distance.

"Ding dong~"

The elevator doors slowly opened.

A beautifully dressed "Diana" walked out from there.

(End of this chapter)