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

Chapter 129 The Corrupted Bat! Dimension Unlocked!
new York.

At Wonder Woman Diana's home.

She was trying to save her Lasso of Truth.

Who would have thought that even with the most cautious approach, simply making a phone call to the boy to inquire, she still couldn't escape the fate of developing extremely high blood pressure.

[Superhero Popularity Center]

This forum website, which Batman Bruce Wayne used to collect supernatural information from around the world, is now like it's been infected with a virus. Almost all the trending topics on the homepage are related to "Superman in Stockings".

He was the grandson of Krypton, yet he chose to betray the gods!

"This isn't your responsibility." "But I'm willing to take it." — The Choice of the Stocking-Clad Superwoman

He saved the entire universe with the phrase "I am the MVP".

No one remembers his funeral, but everyone lives on in his memory.

……

Trending topics with all sorts of different titles are popping up one after another.

It's really hard to imagine how one person could both fix their house and write so many documents in just a few hours. The more Diana read through them, the more interesting her expression became.

Even if you find other posts through a search, the website will still keep pushing trending topics to users, as if every corner of the website is filled with boys wearing stockings on their heads.

"..."

Diana stared at the most popular video. On the cover, a group of heroes were wailing and beating their chests, while she, Wonder Woman, showed what magical snot was.

The snot looked to be over ten meters long; it was thick and round.

It landed directly on the ground.

The ground of the ruins formed the title of the video.

The Death of a Hero: The Twilight of Justice

Diana couldn't understand why such a video had tens of millions of views, and it was about to reach the next level. She rubbed her temples and forced her fingers to click the mouse.

then.

The video starts playing.

A voiceover begins to play: "Heroes don't necessarily need capes."

Sometimes, an unknown child can illuminate the entire universe in their own way.

And by the time the world finally realizes this, it is often after he has passed away.

May everyone who has stood up for the world be remembered.

May every hero who should not be forgotten be truly seen.

……

The narration is very emotional, and it features Gotham's signature bubble voice.

Immediately afterwards, a golden light tore through the night, as if the sun were rising from hell. The background music was somber and mournful, gradually quickening its pace with a heart-pounding drumbeat.

The scenes switch extremely quickly, yet with unparalleled precision.

The camera zooms in from the depths of space, focusing on a roaring, mutating figure—its body expands rapidly, transforming into a terrifying giant.

Superman flew forward.

They were trampled underfoot like rag dolls.

Wonder Woman, Batman, and Cyborg Green Arrow prepare to rescue them, but one by one they are instantly killed. Everyone lies on the ground, their faces, illuminated by close-up lighting, filled with despair and resentment.

"Is the world going to end? No! I absolutely won't allow it!"

Superman struggled to support the giant Doomsday's feet.

His face turned red.

His anger was palpable.

"No way! No way! Superman! We're doomed!" Batman struggled to his feet, his vehicle burning behind him into a charred wreck.

"still have a chance!"

Superman roared and began to fight the giant Doomsday.

The earth is torn apart, volcanoes erupt, tsunamis surge into the sky, and cities are reduced to ruins—even the most elaborate special effects couldn't compare to this, making it indistinguishable from real-life events.

"I'm dying!"

Superman perseveres through grief.

And just then.

Colorful auspicious clouds descended from the sky.

"do not give up!"

A figure descended from the sky!

He had no cloak.

Wearing only a lab coat, her hair wrapped in stockings seemed to be dancing wildly, her eyes were firm and unwavering, and she made her entrance riding on a lotus flower in flames, with a 100-meter-long golden peacock tail feather special effect suddenly unfolding behind her!

"Oh! Who is she?"

Diana gasped when she saw herself in the video.

"It's Superman in Stockings."

Batman looked shocked.

Suddenly, a flashback.

Batman, from his own perspective, recalls how he once scolded the boy, saying he didn't deserve to be a superhero, but now the boy stands firmly before everyone.

"A hero is never one who is worthy or unworthy, but one who chooses to do it or not." With that, the boy took a spear from Batman and resolutely charged towards the giant monster.

"If I'm not coming back, then I'm not coming back!" With invincible faith, the boy overcame numerous difficulties and obstacles, and along the way, he even used Doomsday's heat ray to open a bottle of cola.

He was incredibly dashing.

Face your destiny with equanimity.

Reaching the back of Doomsday, the boy poured the last of the Coke into his mouth, and then, with a soaked stocking, he plunged the spear deep into Doomsday's spine at the back of his neck!
next second.

Doomsday let out a deafening wail.

My body began to break down.

Stocking-clad Superman was also engulfed by the surging energy. He burned in the flames, yet still gripped his spear tightly until the very last moment, when he finally let go and fell helplessly.

The background music suddenly turned somber.

Doomsday roared and crashed to the ground, while the mosaic boy released his grip, his mangled body falling to the ground like a leaf. Slow motion captured his last glance.

Two crystal-clear tears spilled from inside the stockings.

It stood out prominently on Marseille's face.

It's as if they're not on the same layer.

"I did it."

The words, uttered with weariness, fell.

Superman couldn't catch the boy in time.

The mosaic boy's mangled body crashed heavily to the ground.

The image freezes on the moment he closes his eyes.

"Why! Why couldn't I save him in time either!" Superman held the boy's body and roared to the sky, Wonder Woman knelt on the ground and wept bitterly, and Batman frantically pounded the ground.

Beneath the tattered battle uniform.

His 24-pack abs were faintly visible.

"He saved us all, but none of us could save him."

Cyborg even broke his own wrist so that the heroes would have a pillow when they fell asleep. Amidst the cries of one hero after another, the background music in the video abruptly stopped.

The video gradually turned completely black.

Only now do I understand that sacrifice is the noblest of heroic wills.

this moment.

Countless comments scrolled by.

[Tears welling up, the true MVP]

The Justice League really can't function without him.

What are all the other heroes doing? Only he is earnestly saving the world.

He burned his life! He illuminated the future of humanity!

This spear pierces the stars!

This boy is actually from our Great Korean Kingdom!

……

The website, which originally had no bullet comments, was updated with bullet comments by a mysterious person. These were all real users flooding the screen, and at this time the video's views had exceeded 50 million.

"..."

Diana remained silent.

This plot, even more outrageous than Indian movies, is truly beyond words—Wonder Woman genuinely recognized the boy's talent.

Aside from the group's wailing at the end, she seemed to have experienced all the other plot points, but when put together, she felt like she had participated in a fake Justice League gathering.

"The most fascinating moment in journalism? Is this what a journalist's child looks like?" Diana swallowed hard; she had already realized that ninety percent of the video was actually filmed.

The remaining special effects and fabricated plot show no signs of incongruity whatsoever.

With various interludes, patchwork effects, and AI special effects, they managed to portray the death of a hero in a boy with his face blurred out, making all the other heroes seem like mere accessories.

There's definitely a reason why the video is so popular.

Individual heroism was taken to its extreme.

The MVP title never ends.

[Brothers, I cried, I really broke down... The only real man on Earth! Stocking Superman!]

[I suddenly understand what a hero is! In that moment of facing death without fear, he was more like Superman than Superman himself!]

[The Justice League without him is like the night without stars. We suggest renaming the Justice League and turning it into the Pantyhose Superman Fan Club!]

……

Almost every time it's refreshed.

Diana was able to see hundreds of new comments in the comments section.

It doesn't seem like a human-machine interaction.

Instead, quite a few people have indeed been infected.

[Even I can be wrong sometimes. He is the greatest hero. #ForeverInRemembering# "—Batman Official Verified Account"] Wonder Woman even saw Batman's account commenting below.

Yes.

batman.

His account wasn't just hacked in real life.

Virtual assets were also not saved.

A mysterious person not only hacked into the website and updated the bullet screen system, but also created an identity verification function for the website, and used several accounts that obtained identity verification badges to frantically mourn the Stocking Superman in the comments.

[The Flash Certified]

What's the point of a world without Superman in stockings?

[Steel Backbone Certification]

"If I could do it all over again, I would definitely vote for him as the leader of the alliance."

[Aquaman Certification]

"It's true that he saved our family for 3,600 generations."

……

Almost the entire Justice League had their accounts hacked.

The most absurd thing is that not a single netizen had any doubts. After all, seeing the official certification badge, they would naturally assume that the people who arrived were the heroes of the Justice League.

On the Contribution of Stocking-Clad Superman to Universal Peace

Revisiting the Top 10 Highlights of Stocking Heroine

That's how the internet works.

There are trending topics.

Some people will follow the trend and help spread it.

Countless people are mourning.

Regardless of whether you knew Superman in stockings before.

They now seem to have become ten-year-old fans of Pantyhose Superman—because they didn't notice Diana's statement, these people have already started posting on the internet denouncing Diana for being ungrateful.

Wonder Woman was completely passive throughout! She only shed snot and no tears when Superman in stockings sacrificed himself?

In-depth analysis: The internal conflicts within the Justice League exposed!

……

Seeing that public opinion was continuing to evolve.

It's about to turn into a cycle of love turning into hate.

What could Diana say?

"Isn't Bruce going to do anything about this? This is his website!" She wanted to avoid seeing it, but after closing the laptop, she couldn't calm herself down.

He stretched out his hand and then pulled it back.

I went back and forth on this decision several times.

Diana couldn't resist and opened the notebook again.

Wonder Woman

"Sorry everyone, I'm late. I just fainted in the bathroom more than ten times."

The comments section has been updated.

It seems the mysterious person is still exerting their influence.

It was just that something had delayed her before—although what the pirate account said sounded strange, Diana inexplicably felt a sense of relief.

At least netizens stopped targeting her with wild rumors. It wasn't that Diana cared about public opinion; she was mainly afraid that the mysterious person would overlook her and discover that there was another conspiracy.

Fortunately, the truth was not what she had imagined, which naturally brought Diana a sense of relief. Of course, she was also very upset to see others using her name to spread false information.

"No! I still have to do something! Otherwise, who knows when he'll change my title to 'Lazy Winner Wonder Woman'!" Wonder Woman Diana slumped on the sofa, pondering for a long time.

finally.

She still wants to reclaim her rightful reputation.

"Only Clark's image is somewhat better. If you say this wasn't caused by that weirdo, I definitely won't believe it." Perhaps the DC Universe has its own Voldemort.

Diana was reluctant to mention Ian's name. She put her newly bought notebook on her lap again and quickly started applying for her own verification information on the website.

have to say.

The mysterious hacker's skills were indeed very strong; the temporarily implanted system was extremely sophisticated.

[This verification has already been registered. Do you wish to change the account?]

Diana looked at the pop-up notification on the website.

Without hesitation, she chose the "Yes" option hidden among five thousand tiny "No" options—the website doesn't allow large font sizes, clearly a mechanism to filter ordinary people.

With Diana making the right choice.

Page jump.

The website directly presented an identity verification questionnaire with more than 500 questions.

Diana's pupils contracted slightly.

It's unbelievable how Ian was able to produce so much in such a short time.

Does this guy have a team of assistants?

Amidst his doubts and uncertainty,

The first question had already caught Diana's eye.

[001: Where does Wonder Woman come from?]

Option 1: Paradise Island.

Option 2: Lolita Island.

Option 3: Skull Island.

Option 4: Deep in the Valley

Faced with this first question, Diana, of course, didn't need to think. With her spirits up and determined to reclaim her title as a heroine, she directly chose the most correct answer.

Paradise Island

however.

[Incorrect option. Please restart authentication in one minute.]

Something unexpected happened: the damn website made a wrong judgment. Diana's eyes widened in disbelief; even her demigod brain felt a bit overwhelmed.

"I still don't know where I come from?"

She was numb.

Waited for a minute.

I tried and chose the second option.

[Incorrect option, please restart authentication in five minutes] The erudite Diana still failed to complete this identity verification process, which was merely the first obstacle in the opening chapter.

"?????"

Diana really wanted to swear.

She felt that Ian didn't understand her background information at all.

Perhaps the boy was just randomly setting up the questionnaire.

"Maybe I should just wait for Bruce to take back control of this website." After selecting the third option and still getting an error message, Diana stared at the half-hour cooldown period.

She chose to give up.

Despite her incredibly long lifespan.

But that doesn't mean she wants to spend a whole year working on a questionnaire.

To know!
This questionnaire has 500 questions!

"Maybe this cooldown time will be extended by accumulating 500 questions. In the end, I'll have to wait for decades or even centuries. That guy is definitely capable of doing something like that!"

Diana felt an unbearable headache and desperately hoped that Bruce could set things right—she thought Bruce was just temporarily unavailable, and she had never doubted Batman's abilities.

The air quality in New York is not very good.

But it's still better than Diana's stifled mood at this moment.

She was hoping Batman would intervene.

And what is Batman doing?

Three hundred feet underground in Gotham.

In Batman's private laboratory, in a location whose exact location cannot be revealed, the cold white light made the metal walls look like an icebox, and the air was filled with the faint smell of burning electronic equipment.

There was also a hint of tension that was hard to define.

External interference cannot affect the atmosphere here, because there is no internet access here at all, which is why Batman and the Flash remain so calm.

"哐哐哐~"

They are rebuilding a new dream detection instrument.

A device capable of delving into the conscious world and reading subconscious signals. Batman believes this device could help him and the Justice League uncover the nightmares the Flash experiences each night.

In this regard.

Barry Allen chose to believe.

With the Speed ​​Force and several doctoral degrees, completing the Batman blueprints wouldn't be too difficult for him, since the planning and design of the blueprints also took into account his level of knowledge.

Having a close teammate is just like that.

The Flash's underwear and trump card.

Batman has always seen right through him.

“Seriously, is all this stuff really necessary? I feel like you’re just using this as an excuse to collect my Speed ​​Force data.” Barry Allen was covered in sensors and electrodes.

Even the clothes borrowed from the Kent family had been cut in several places.

The tiny probes that shimmer on the skin are exposed.

Without looking up, Batman typed a string of code on the holographic keyboard: "No, I'm just collecting Speed ​​Force samples. I figured out your basic data three years ago."

He is as honest as Ian.

After debugging some data.

The man also stepped forward and removed several test tubes from the instruments on Barry Allen's body, which were now flashing with golden arcs of electricity.

I had previously depleted a significant portion of my Speed ​​Force reserves.

Batman will certainly find a way to replenish it.

His honesty and the fact that he picked up the test tube in person really left The Flash somewhat helpless.

"Couldn't you at least try to hide it a little and consider my feelings a tiny bit?" Barry Allen stood with his hands on his hips, holding back for a long time, but ultimately didn't dare to complain too seriously.

After all, having been with the Justice League for so many years, he knew the Dark Knight's style all too well. If you showed even the slightest dissatisfaction, your profile would have a red "potential destabilizing factor" mark added the next day—your danger rating would be raised by at least three levels.

If a superhuman has no ambition and no dark side, why would he be afraid of others devising plans against him? The Flash can even imagine Batman's meticulous psychological process.

Let alone in the Justice League, even the minor heroes living in third-tier cities know just how severe Batman's paranoia is.

This is not.

Even if the Flash is emotionally stable.

"I'll be more careful next time." After glancing at him, Batman silently raised the Flash's danger rating by 0.5, though it was unclear what his reasons were.

"you……"

Barry opened his mouth.

In the end, I didn't ask.

In the center of the laboratory.

A giant device resembling an MRI scanner is humming and running.

A strange liquid was flowing from several tubes.

It looks really creepy.

It's the result of several hours of hard work by The Flash and Batman.

"Can this thing really help me?" Barry walked up to the machine, changing the subject. His fingers lightly touched the outer casing, but he was instantly forced to pull his hand back by some kind of energy reaction.

"Ok?"

Barry was very confused.

He only knew the principles of construction, not the principles of operation.

Doctor.

It's just the beginning in some areas.

"At least let us see what form of corruption you've encountered." Batman finally turned around, his black cape swaying behind him, as he made final adjustments to a tablet.

“Ian said I’m dying.” Barry stared at the machine in front of him, his voice suddenly dropping. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but he didn’t want to die in a meaningless and unclear way.

“Don’t rush, we still have several dozen hours, if that kid’s judgment is correct.” Batman walked to the console and began entering the startup sequence.

"Hearing you say that makes me even more worried!" Barry scratched his head. "Usually, the phrase 'only a few dozen hours left' is followed by the end of the world!"

His expression was wonderful.

However, Batman had no intention of appreciating it.

"Finding the problem is the most difficult part. In fact, once we understand the situation you are in, solving it will not be difficult."

Batman continued to manipulate the control panel.

His words were full of determination.

"Solving a problem is much easier than finding one? Uh... is that really true?" Barry's expression was full of astonishment. He felt that there might really be a generation gap between him and Batman.

In this regard.

Batman did not answer.

He simply pointed to the machine's open hatch. Barry grimaced and resignedly lay down inside. The metal frame automatically closed, securing the Flash in a fetal position.

"Get started now. Be prepared. You'll soon be plunged into a deep dream," Batman warned as he began activating the newly built machine.

There was no spark.

There is no such thing as failure.

"System initialization complete."

"Neural connections are being established."

"Dream synchronization rate: 87%"

"The goal has entered the superficial stage of awareness."

……

Batman's creations rarely have problems.

I saw.

Lines of cold data were displayed on the screen.

A monotonous, mechanical voice kept ringing out.

Barry's breathing rate gradually slowed, and his heartbeat stabilized. His eyeballs began to move rapidly under his eyelids, and he slowly entered the REM sleep stage.

and this.

not enough.

As deeper layers of dreams are unearthed, activated, and intervened upon.

A pale blue beam of light shot out from the top of the instrument, enveloping the entire cabin. Immediately afterwards, Barry's brainwave pattern began to fluctuate violently, as if he were experiencing an unprecedented storm of consciousness.

Batman stared intently at the screen, trying to catch any unusual fluctuations.

Sudden.

The brainwave spectrum showed a strange pattern—a wave curve that had never been recorded before, exhibiting a spiral-like increasing trend, like a projection of some high-dimensional structure.

At the same time, Barry's lips trembled slightly, as if he were murmuring to himself in his sleep:

“They are…watching us…it’s not an illusion…they really exist…”

Batman's pupils contracted.

what is this?
Is it the Flash's own fear amplified? Or...?

Real intruders?
"Tap tap tap, tap tap tap~" Batman's hands kept operating on the control panel, but Barry Allen's dream did not appear on the screen that had been set up.

The instrument is not malfunctioning.

The laboratory was completely silent.

Only the ticking of the instruments echoed in the air. Batman sat at the control panel, his eyes fixed on the constantly changing data stream, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. He couldn't figure out the specific reason why the dream images hadn't appeared, only vaguely sensing that they might be being blocked in some form.

"Has this invasion progressed to such an extent that it can affect our world?" Batman even activated backup mode, but still couldn't see Barry's dream on the screen.

He hadn't felt like this in a long time.

I feel extremely uneasy.

Batman wanted to make other corrections, but at that moment, the dream synchronization rate on the screen suddenly soared to 95% and then plummeted to 30%.

"Didi dididi~"

The alarm suddenly went off.

Sharp and harsh.

The dream detector vibrated violently.

The previously stable data stream on the screen suddenly became chaotic, with the waveform curves twisting and jumping, as if the entire system was experiencing a storm at the level of consciousness.

"Warning: The target's consciousness is fluctuating abnormally. It is recommended to terminate the experiment."

The weak AI's prompts echoed and repeated. Without hesitation, Batman immediately stopped the machine's operation—he punched the emergency stop button.

The machine emitted a dying hum.

The hatch slowly opened under the action of the hydraulic system. Cold, white mist billowed out from inside, and Barry Allen, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving violently.

It was as if he had just woken up from a nightmare.

"Are you alright?" Batman isn't a cold-hearted person; he cares about the lives and safety of his comrades, at least until a crisis arises that requires sacrificing teammates.

"They shouldn't die anytime soon?"

Barry suddenly opened his eyes, gasping for breath, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

“We failed.” Batman stated calmly, stating a fact. He reached out to unfasten the restraints on Barry’s head, but Barry suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"No, we succeeded."

The Flash's pupils dilated slightly.

His voice trembled with excitement.

"I haven't forgotten what I dreamed about this time." He swallowed hard, the memory in his mind was exceptionally clear, and it hadn't even faded with the passage of time.

"They, those things from outer space, want you to remember this dream?" Batman narrowed his eyes suspiciously, scrutinizing the Flash up and down.

While talking.

Batman immediately reached for his belt with both hands—he was still wearing his armor because he was very vigilant and on guard against any unexpected situations caused by the dream's detection.

“I was not controlled.”

Barry turned to look at the clock hanging in the lab—only four minutes had passed in reality, but to him it felt like several hours had passed in a dream.

"I saw a boy,"

Barry's speaking speed unconsciously increased.

"In a toy room."

He began to tell Batman about his dreams.

"In a room, playing with toys. There were Superman, Aquaman, and you and me..." Barry Allen's memories were very clear.

The space in the dream is like a collage randomly pieced together by a child.

The walls were covered with crooked graffiti of Superman, Batman, and The Flash, and various superhero figurines were scattered on the floor—some Barry recognized, others were completely unfamiliar.

Center of the room.

A brown-haired boy, about ten years old, was sitting cross-legged on the ground.

He was fiddling with two dolls in his hands.

One is the Flash in his red uniform, and the other is a boy with white hair and sunglasses.

"You shouldn't be afraid of me. In this fragmented universe I'm in, everyone else is a good person, and they don't want to harm your universe."

The boy spoke without looking up.

His voice carried a calmness beyond his years.

He gently touched the two dolls, and they mysteriously floated in the air, beginning a speed chase, with the Flash gaining the upper hand and pressing down on the white-haired boy.

In memories.

Barry has a particularly vivid memory of this scene.

He told Batman what had happened to him, and that he was unable to move in the dream, as if he were fixed in place by an invisible force.

"We have our own universe."

"However, we are still searching for it, searching for our home. Attaching ourselves to you is not our choice, but rather because the fragment of the universe itself is about to collapse."

"This is related to the crisis that our world encountered at the very beginning."

"The Flash, Barry Allen, you can think of it as a massive impact that caused a part of the universe to break off, and that part contains us."

These are the boy's exact words.

The Flash relayed it to Batman word for word.

Even the tone of voice remained unchanged.

Can be imagined.

Just how vivid and profound are the memories from his dream in The Flash's mind? He was afraid of missing any details, so he tried his best to describe his experiences as closely as possible to his memories.

In this regard.

Batman offered no judgment.

He simply frowned.

"The claim of invading life is unbelievable." Batman interrupted Flash's reminiscence, his voice firm. He didn't even believe in aliens, let alone life from outer space.

God knows whether the life forms in that universe are still human.

The boy in the dream world seen by The Flash.

Ultimately, it's just the image that others want Flash to see.

"Do you have any further description of his so-called 'home'?" In fact, even the things the Flash said were considered unreliable information by Batman.

That's why he asked the question.

They simply want to find loopholes and expose the lies of the outer universe.

He said their world still exists, but they can't contact it—at least not until our world is destroyed, we won't harm you.

Barry Allen, halfway through his sentence, repeated the other person's words and tone.

“I’ll say it again, the claim of extraterrestrial life is most likely a lie.” Batman’s pupils flickered slightly as he spoke in a deep voice, constantly reviewing the information he already knew. He silently walked to the control panel, took out a set of neural cables, and connected them to Barry’s temple: “I need to collect your memories and brain information.”

talking.

Batman then linked several directorial works to Barry's head.

The Flash did not refuse.

however.

The result was as bizarre as ever. Although Barry Allen clearly remembered every detail of the dream, no related information was stored in his brain.

at this point.

This greatly surprised Barry Allen.

However, Batman's face showed no sign of surprise.

"That's not surprising. I couldn't read your dream images before either."

He repeated the operation, but the result was still the same.

“But I remember it so clearly.” Barry was puzzled, scratching his head, his tone incredulous. “But why… can’t I leave any trace?”

Batman did not answer the Flash's question, perhaps because he didn't know how to answer it.

He frowned.

Think about it.

The atmosphere in the air suddenly became quiet.

“What should we do? That kid doesn’t seem like a bad guy? At least he doesn’t look as bad as the Kent’s youngest son.” Barry Allen’s uncertain words made Batman glance at him several times.

“Perhaps you have already been corrupted or affected on a psychological level.” Batman cut the scanner, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “You cannot return to Midtown until a solution is found.”

This is also out of consideration for urban safety.

The Flash is no young man.

He could now understand Batman's decision.

“I’ll call Iris, and my friends.” Barry Allen pulled out his phone, but it couldn’t get a signal.

"..."

The Flash looked up at Batman.

"I'll inform them that you might need to stay with me for a while; this was specially made for you." Batman is still as considerate as ever.

The Flash believes his corpse will definitely have a warm future.

"If this 'boy' really just wants to go home, as he says, then maybe we can find out where his home is, and then he and the others he mentioned won't continue to erode our universe... including me, of course." After all, everyone has a bit of wishful thinking, and The Flash also hopes to see the best outcome.

He really didn't want to die so hastily.

“I’ll ask the Kent kid, and I’ll find out more about this.” Batman didn’t reply; he didn’t trust extraterrestrial life.

"it is good."

The Flash sighed and nodded.

He consciously walked into the special room that Batman had opened.

The door slowly closed.

"Oh, right, he also said they're called mutants... Maybe they, like many of the superhumans I've met, gained their powers due to genetic mutations for some reason?"

The Flash added another piece of information.

Batman nodded.

No judgment was made.

The main problem is that he doesn't understand what the name actually means.

"Has his personality not been affected?" Through the one-way glass, seeing Barry Allen start reading, Batman left the laboratory without looking back.

Dark as ink.

Gotham's streets are a chaotic tapestry woven from neon lights and shadows.

The Batmobile roared past.

The tires screeched against the ground. Instead of heading towards Wayne Manor, it followed a hidden underground passage deep into an abandoned industrial area on the outskirts of the city.

This is an abandoned military factory, but beneath the factory lies a completely different world. Deep underground, it has now been transformed into a brand-new, high-tech secret base.

It is deeper and more hidden than the Bat Cave.

There were no signs at the entrance.

There was no traceable signal source.

This is the "Multiverse Research Facility," which Bruce Wayne personally activated in recent days, specifically for investigating anomalous phenomena from other universes.

"Multiverse war, extraterrestrial invasion..."

The Batmobile slowly came to a stop in front of the underground metal platform. Batman jumped out of the car and walked briskly to the trunk, from which he dragged out a heavy black box.

The container screeched against the ground, the sound echoing through the empty base corridors.

“There is another me…and many more me.”

Batman was clearly deep in thought the whole way. He dragged the suitcase along, his boots pounding on the new alloy floor, the sound of his footsteps like a muffled heartbeat.

Inside the base, Batman walked through automatic identification gates and a biometric scanning area to reach the core area, where the blue light from the technological equipment cast cold shadows on the walls.

Both sides of the corridor.

The holographic projector operates silently.

The abnormal energy readings from all over the world were constantly being updated. Batman only glanced at them briefly before continuing to drag the large box toward the central area.

Because the base has just been established.

All the instruments looked brand new, as if they had just come out of the factory. There were no unique props collected or customized in the base, except for one seemingly ordinary hibernation pod that stood out.

Inside was a sleeping man—in the transparent hibernation pod, bald Lex Luthor lay quietly, his once arrogant face now gaunt, his eyes sunken, and his temples covered with dense nerve sensors. His chest rose and fell faintly, like a lifeless doll.

“You weren’t killed, you were just imprisoned, there must be a reason.”

Batman paused briefly in front of the hibernation pod. Clearly, during his solo mission in Metropolis, he had concealed some information he had gathered from Clark—he had found the Lex Luthor of this universe, who was imprisoned by the Luthor of a parallel universe, and brought back this new base that could prevent Superman from spying on him.

perhaps.

Batman suspected that Lex Luthor might have some traces or hidden dangers left by his counterpart, or perhaps he felt he could use Luthor to find some information about the multiverse war.

Batman's gaze was as sharp as a knife, fixed on Luther's pale face.

He was unable to wake the other person.

Because the other person's state was like that of a living dead person, unable to wake up but also unable to die.

"Maybe Superman needs to kiss him." An absurd thought suddenly popped into Batman's head. He frowned, suppressing his somewhat abnormal emotions.

“I would rather believe that the Ian virus really exists than believe that my isotopes have exerted this influence on me… Such a thought is itself a manifestation of being affected.”

Batman began to conduct a self-diagnosis.

He was preparing to continue dragging the large box to the research equipment.

The communicator at his waist suddenly rang at that moment.

"Master."

It's Alfred.

For Bruce Wayne, when he became Batman, there were very few people he could contact at all times, and Alfred was one of his most important "family members".

"Has Damian run away again? Or is he still plotting to attack the Gotham Police Department?" Batman frowned, feeling that Alfred contacting him at this time couldn't be anything good.

however.

"No, no, no, the young master was very well-behaved today."

"He even changed his mind, saying that superheroes are really cool, especially using enemy attacks to fry a dying steak, and since the steak won't be medium-rare, the idea of ​​risking his life to defeat the villain is exactly what he dreams of being." Alfred's voice came through the earpiece.

His tone carried a hint of a smile.

The temperature in the base laboratory remained constant, but Batman felt a chill run down his spine for no apparent reason.

“You shouldn’t have let him read Ian Kent’s comics. That’s not something a living person who wants to live a normal life should read,” Batman sighed, giving Ian’s comics extremely high praise.

“I assure you no.” Alfred paused, “but the young master has indeed been browsing a lot of online news recently, especially the special report about the sacrifice of the Kent family’s youngest son.”

Hear the words.

Bruce charged toward the base's computer.

His cloak swept over the test tube rack on the table.

"It's that story about the death of Superman in stockings."

Alfred seemed to sense something was amiss. "This should just be some kind of publicity stunt or prank, right? After all, that kid just hacked into that information-gathering website you created."

As soon as these words came out.

The communicator was simply thrown onto the control panel.

"What did he do?" Bruce lunged at the main control terminal, his fingers leaving afterimages on the keyboard. Twelve screens lit up simultaneously, each displaying a comical emoji—the reason why his personally written monitoring and protection programs hadn't given him any warnings had been found: all the monitoring programs had become electronic tombstones.

Even the Superhero Popularity Center has changed hands.

Upon entering this website.

There is no other information.

The entire collection is filled with stunning sound effects and videos reminiscing about Superman in stockings. One hundred videos, one hundred different, with booming sound effects, explosive special effects, and outrageously well-edited content.

Each video is like a heroic epic tailor-made for that boy, accompanied by tear-jerking background music and a screen full of bullet comments, making it impossible for people to resist that tragic emotion.

of course.

There are other videos as well.

such as.

Shocking! Batman Cries in the Middle of the Night, Admits He's Inferior to Superman in Stockings (High-Definition Remastered Version)

Upon seeing the headline, Bruce wisely refrained from clicking on it. Instead, he opened the real-time data analysis and discovered that 2.3 million users worldwide had participated in the discussion on the "stocking spirit."

"Master?"

Alfred's voice came from the ground.

"Should I activate the emergency plan? You know, the one where you complain to Superman?"

He was conducting an inquiry.

"..."

Bruce did not answer.

His gaze remained fixed on the verified account of the villain Darkseid.

at this time.

Darkseid also uses a villainous tone to reminisce about Pantyhose Superman.

Not many people recognize this name, but since it has a verified badge, the number of people who like and share the posts from this account is certainly not small.

"Impersonating all sorts of superheroes is one thing, but this guy even goes so far as to impersonate villains?" Even as a master of facial expression management, his eyes couldn't help but twitch at this moment.

"Could it get any more outrageous?"

I really don't know how to evaluate Batman.

He started typing on the keyboard.

An attempt to regain control of the [Superhero Popularity Center].

"Hmm? Another hacking style?"

I gave it a try.

Batman was somewhat surprised after failing to win.

[Permission denied]

The website has been upgraded.

[The Supreme Administrator—A Great Hero Who Remains Anonymous]

Busy for a long time.

Batman only received this feedback.

Let alone fighting for authority.

He still needs to fill out a questionnaire to get back his more than 300 alternate accounts. This wasn't the first time he'd been killed, but even with Apokolips technology, Batman hadn't regained control of the website.

His computer even got infected with a virus as a result.

Play Little Batman's Adorable Game on repeat.

"..."

to be frank.

Aside from the mixed feelings, the Gotham lord of dozens of intelligence websites wasn't angry about the websites being hacked; he had already realized that Ian had his reasons for doing all this.

It's incredible that the boy could draw strength from such news headlines, but a great deal of evidence had already revealed this truth to Bruce.

After staring at the computer screen for a long time, Batman decided to give up.

"The strong artificial intelligence in his hands is still evolving." The old man of Gotham's eyes were very deep as he made what he felt was the most reasonable judgment.

Yes.

Batman had already discovered that the hacker was not Ian, but some kind of strong artificial intelligence controlled by Ian, including those synthetic and edited videos that may have been created by this AI.

“Fantasy materialization…”

Recalling his previous speculations about Ian's "superpowers," Batman's mind raced through all of Ian's works, and he roughly pinpointed a very suspicious target.

"Jarvis, the one who appeared in that Iron Man comic?" Batman pondered as he scrolled through the posts made by normal people on the [Superhero Popularity Center].

He saw some posts mourning the other victims besides Pantyhose Superman.

My sister was in the Metropolitan Plaza at the time... she just went to buy something, but she never came back.

Officials, for the sake of votes, keep emphasizing that God is protecting the metropolis and that the number of casualties is very low. But who can tell me, should my father's life be just another statistic?

We admire the choices made by heroes, but we must also remember that those who died innocently deserve to be remembered as well.

……

Bruce remained silent for a moment.

There are reasons why Wayne Enterprises chose to bear the costs of Metropolitan's reconstruction.

Those who died.

That's the reason.

"If I could have made a more accurate judgment back then..." Bruce couldn't help but think about this question, and the thought was like a thorn, deeply embedded in his mind.

The more I think about it, the more unsettled I become.

Batman couldn't resist turning on the news TV.

Many television news programs have mentioned this incident.

Dozens of split screens simultaneously played programs from different TV stations.

The victims' families were crying and questioning.

Some even angrily criticized Superman—though many more chose to forgive him. Local television stations in Metropolis, in particular, and even media outlets that are usually very critical of Superman, offered their condolences.

The news anchor is broadcasting a special program.

The background music was somber and melancholic.

"Today, the entire metropolis is in mourning."

The female anchor's bright red eyes indicated that she had just been crying.

But she maintained a professional attitude.

"Disaster struck our city again, and Superman was unable to stop it in time. But I want to say on behalf of many citizens that we should not blame Superman for not being able to rescue us in time."

"Superman must have done everything he could, but like the families of other victims, the guardian of our city has also lost his own child today."

It is clear.

Metropolitan reporters have had more than one encounter with Pantyhose Superman.

The Metropolitan reporters already knew the identity of this recently very active "Stocking Superman," but they had been pretending not to know.

After all, they're all active in the same city.

They have the same abilities.

Even if a paternity testing agency comes, they can't determine if it's false.

Therefore.

Even the most cynical reporters in the Metropolis didn't choose to criticize Superman tonight, just like the criminals who reduced the crime rate to near zero tonight.

The criminals didn't take advantage of the chaos tonight to commit any atrocities—not because the bad guys were comforting Superman in their own way, but because they were afraid of getting killed by Superman, who had lost his son, if they committed any crimes tonight.

It's the same mentality as reporters who are afraid of being beaten to death.

Yes.

This is not a symbol of peace.

Rather, it is a manifestation of fear.

It's because of the current trending videos from [Superhero Popularity Center].

Everyone thought Superman had lost his son tonight, and what would a father who had lost his child become? Even the most notoriously reckless gangs in the city dared not gamble.

This situation is somewhat comical.

However, Batman's mood was unusually heavy at this moment.

His focus was more on the news interviews with the families of the victims.

This part may not be as popular as the news about the boy, but a simple search will reveal many related interviews or statements from the family members online.

“Ian Kent reminded us of this.”

Batman's hand clenched into a fist unconsciously, his knuckles turning white. He knew he wasn't a god, nor Superman, but he still couldn't forgive himself for that moment of impulsiveness.

Dozens of windows simultaneously display different news reports.

The sounds mingled together.

It created a chaotic symphony.

“Why my Marissa? Why not those damn politicians? Why not those rich people?” The woman’s cries echoed through the new Batcave via loudspeakers.

"She's only sixteen! She just received a scholarship to the art school!"

This woman is not an isolated case.

When the victims' families were interviewed, many cried and asked, "Why my mother? Why me?" These questions had no answers, only heart-wrenching pain.

Their voices were like sharp blades, piercing Bruce's heart.

He closed his eyes, but closing them couldn't stop the memories from flooding back—the moment when Ian told them to stop, yet he still pulled the trigger without hesitation.

then.

Bruce felt like his brain was being controlled by his emotions.

They just want to destroy Doomsday.

Eradicate the threat.

Batman never regrets fighting, but this time, Bruce Wayne regrets his decision. Now that the dust has settled, the death toll because of him has finally reached 1487.

The cost of this mistake was far too high. Even with all the displays off, the silent Batcave, filled only with the mechanical operation of the machines, made those sounds echo even more clearly in my mind.

My mood grew increasingly heavy.

Batman still remembers what he still needs to do.

"If my judgment wasn't clouded by emotions."

Thoughts coiled around me like venomous snakes.

Bruce whirled around, his cloak tracing a sharp arc behind him. He needed action, he needed data, he needed to focus on solvable problems.

The metal box was roughly dragged to the front of the main analysis table.

The hydraulic system emitted a muffled hum. As the lid opened, a ghostly mist poured out, revealing the Red Death Demon's corpse, preserved using special methods.

This being, suspected to be Batman's counterpart, lay quietly like an ordinary specimen, twisted and eerie, its head, which it had severed itself, bearing the final solemnity of its life.

Bruce had an idea.

but.

He hesitated for only a moment before moving the corpse out and carefully placing the Red Death Demon's head and torso into a high-precision analytical instrument.

"Didi dididi~"

The instrument is working.

only.

[No valid sample detected] Just like analyzing The Flash and Lex Luthor, his new instrument still couldn't detect anything, not even the presence of the Red Death.

It cannot be started at all.

It simply cannot be detected.

But the body does exist.

"Because he doesn't belong to our universe? Or is there some other reason?"

Batman frowned. He brought up the holographic panel for manual calibration, but all the sensor feedback pointed to the same absurd conclusion—the instrument couldn't "see" the corpse on the platform, just as a human can't see air. At this moment, Batman realized once again clearly that his equipment was outdated in the face of this new crisis.

“If I analyze this corpse from a physical perspective, perhaps I can gain some insights.” Batman took out a miniature sampler from his tactical belt, the sharp needle piercing the skin of the Red Death’s neck. But when he pulled it out, the syringe was empty—not even the most basic cell sample could be extracted.

This is really quite strange.

It also touched on a blind spot in Batman's knowledge.

"The blood I collected before has also disappeared. Is my counterpart being erased from existence?" Bruce's expression grew increasingly confused after rummaging through the metal box.

He rubbed his temples, completely baffled.

"I probably need a nap now." Batman's mind was a jumble of thoughts, making it impossible for him to concentrate. He glanced at the Red Death's corpse and then sealed it away again.

"If technology can't decipher it, then perhaps... magic can." Batman was still pondering when he walked into the medical area of ​​the Batcave and came to a cabinet.

After taking a bottle of pills from the cabinet, he also took a powerful sleeping pill—this drug is cutting-edge technology that can put a person into a five-minute sleep.

In these five minutes of sleep.

Batman will have plenty of energy to last all day.

Ian's previous statement that Batman takes a lot of drugs wasn't unfounded. The moment a powerful sleeping pill slid down his throat, Batman lay down on the nearby recliner and fell into a sleep even better than a baby.

Bruce's consciousness sank into darkness.

But the darkness did not bring him peace.

The guilt that haunted him did not dissipate; those he failed to save, those moments of misjudgment, turned into a dark tide that surged in his dreams.

Feelings of guilt and remorse still linger.

It's getting stronger.

It even seemed to evoke some kind of special resonance.

Just as he fell into a deep sleep.

The Red Death Demon's body, already heavily sealed, suddenly twisted a few times inside the metal cabinet. Its head caved in, and the joints of its body made a faint "clicking" sound.

A very slight noise.

No alarms were triggered.

after all.

There is no instrument to monitor it, at least not Batman has such an instrument at the moment—the lights of the Batcave cast a cold blue halo on the hibernation pod.

Bruce slept like a vampire in a coffin, stiff and tense. His expression kept changing, as if his dream was being silently eroded by some force.

I fell asleep as the medication took effect.

Darkness enveloped Bruce's consciousness, but soon, the darkness was torn apart—he clearly felt himself falling, passing through layer after layer of chaotic veils.

Until a cold, sticky sensation enveloped his entire body.

Bruce suddenly opened his eyes—only to find that the world before him had completely changed.

He stood on a desolate metal ruin.

The sky above wasn't Gotham's dark clouds, but a distorted sea of ​​stars.

A giant planet hangs in the sky.

Their orbits were in complete disarray, as if torn apart by some indescribable force.

Further out, ominous red lights flickered in the pitch-black universe, like eyes peering into reality. The air was thick with the pungent smell of metal and blood.

The deafening roar of artillery fire could be heard in the distance.

"Something's happening!" Bruce tensed almost instinctively, his fingers reaching for his belt—but his equipment was gone. He was wearing the Batsuit, but all his weapons, tools, and even his communicator were gone. Only the most basic armor remained, as if some force had deliberately stripped him of his armor.

"This is where?"

He whispered to himself.

But the sound was drowned out by the roar of the warship's engines.

Countless warships are falling.

"This is not human technology..."

Bruce looked around.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

A warrior in the same armor rushed forward, his voice hoarse and weary beneath his mask, "The Chaos Fleet has broken through our defenses! They are dismantling our forces!"

Chaos? Bruce frowned, but his body seemed to be driven by some kind of instinct, and he quickly followed the soldiers into the battle area.

in the corridor.

The corpses lay strewn about, and blood pooled in small streams on the metal floor.

"Hold the line!"

An officer roared and raised his slug gun, firing at the charging enemy. Bruce looked in the direction of the gun, his pupils contracting sharply—the enemy was not human.

They were twisted and deformed, their skin covered in scales and pustules, their limbs transformed into sharp claws. The monsters' eyes gleamed with a crazed light.

The screams that came from its mouth were inhuman.

"What's this?"

Bruce gripped the power sword handed to him, but his body charged forward uncontrollably.

His sword slashed down, and blood and flesh splattered everywhere. The enemy's blood wasn't red, but a viscous purple, which splattered on his armor and seemed to writhe like living things.

The battle continued.

Bruce felt his consciousness gradually blurring, as if being pulled by some force. Every swing of his sword, every dodge, seemed to be part of a pre-programmed sequence.

Rather than his own will.

Sudden.

A blinding light exploded in the distant starry sky.

Bruce looked up, his pupils suddenly contracting—a warship larger than a city was slowly emerging from the warp rift. Its shape resembled some kind of deep-sea behemoth, its hull covered in spikes and twisted statues, and those statues…were moving. Their eyes gleamed with an eerie purple light.

His lips curled into a grin.

It was as if they were laughing silently.

In the far reaches of deep space, another fleet was engaged in battle with this terrifying behemoth. Their ships were rigid and angular, branded with a golden double-headed eagle emblem. Cannon fire exploded silently in the vacuum, beams of light and missiles weaving a web of destruction, but the blasphemous behemoths seemed to revel in the carnage.

Their cannons spewed out brilliant purplish-red energy, each shot capable of tearing a human warship to shreds.

"Is this a cosmic war?"

Bruce immediately sought cover.

He had never seen an interstellar battle of this scale. Even when the Kryptonians' world engine descended upon Earth, it was far less insane than one ten-thousandth of the frenzy of this war.

“What are those guys?” Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. He instinctively wanted to do something, but he wasn’t even sure if it was a dream or if he was being invaded by an outer universe.

And just then.

The sudden sound helped Bruce confirm his answer.

"What an interesting soul..."

A voice sounded in his ears.

It wasn't a sound that traveled through the air, but echoed directly in his mind, like silk gliding over his skin, or the flick of a viper's tongue, sweet yet deadly.

Bruce turned around abruptly, but there was no one behind him.

"Who?!"

"You've finally come, my dear Dark Knight..." The voice chuckled, each syllable carrying a dizzying pleasure, "I've been watching you for a long time... your pain, your anger, your... repression."

Bruce gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. "A hallucination? Or some kind of psychological attack?"

"Oh, don't be so boring~" The owner of the voice seemed amused by his reaction, and his tone rose lightly, "You clearly crave release more than anyone else, yet you bind yourself with that ridiculous sense of responsibility... What a waste."

Suddenly, Bruce's vision was filled with a brilliant crimson.

The starry sky before him distorted and melted, replaced by a colossal palace—no, it couldn't even be called a "palace," but rather a realm constructed from desire itself.

The towering spires were made of intertwined bones and silk, the ground was covered with a soft, living carpet of flesh and blood, and the air was filled with a cloyingly sweet aroma that made one dizzy.

At the far end of the palace, a blurry figure leaned against the throne.

Four arms, alluring, with an inhuman beauty; just one glance was enough to send a tearing pain through Bruce's temples.

The other person's form kept changing, sometimes a beautiful girl, sometimes a handsome boy, or both at the same time, or even more... an undefinable form.

"Gods? Evil gods?"

Bruce's brain, which seemed to be gradually losing its function, was still capable of working.

He made a clear judgment.

“Welcome to my domain, Bruce Wayne… another lovely fellow, tsk tsk.” His skin was as smooth as pearls, and his eyes shimmered with a captivating purple light.

“You are purer than the last one, not that kind of hybrid, and I like that.” His voice sounded like a million people whispering at the same time, with a lazy and dangerous smile on his lips.

Bruce's muscles were taut to their limit, but his body was unable to move. Some force beyond the laws of physics was suppressing him, forcing him to stand still and stare directly at the presence before him.

“Red Reaper, another me, is the one he said he can’t defeat you?” Bruce struggled to keep his mind working, feeling his thoughts and soul being affected.

“I don’t know anything about the Red Reaper, I only care about you… You can call me… Lord of Pleasure.” He chuckled, his slender fingers lightly tracing the armrest of the throne.

The invasion from outer space has reached Bruce.

Subsequently.

Bruce's mind began to wander.

It was as if some kind of knowledge had been forcibly inserted into him—the being he faced was called Slaanesh. This was not the work of the other party, but a remnant of that red Grim Reaper.

That Batman, who was equally shrewd and calculating.

Ultimately, they figured out that the other person's desire for control was uncontrollable.

"Why me?" Bruce forced himself to speak.

“Because you are so…delicious.” Slaanesh’s fingertip gently pointed in his direction. “Your pain, your restraint, your almost self-destructive persistence…what a fascinating struggle.”

Bruce felt a chill, but what was even more terrifying was that deep down, a slight wavering had begun to creep into his heart.

“I can give you freedom, Bruce…” Slaanesh’s voice was sweet as honey, “Put down your shackles and embrace true pleasure… You can have everything you want.”

In an instant, countless images flashed before Bruce's eyes.

Gotham, no more crime.

His parents never died.

Superman has lost his powers.

Alfred, forever young.

That was his deepest desire.

"Do not……"

Bruce gritted his teeth, his nails digging deep into his palms, trying to use the pain to wake himself up. The pain had no effect; it only made him realize that this was no ordinary dream.

"That's not true."

Bruce closed his eyes.

"Oh? And what is this so-called 'truth' you speak of?" Slaanesh's laughter rang like silver bells. "What has your so-called perseverance brought you? More death? More suffering?"

Bruce's breathing became heavy.

"Why not unleash your true nature and let me see the real you?"

His words.

Make Bruce's pupils dilate.

"Shut up!"

Bruce struggled violently.

Yet he was unable to regain control of his body—his consciousness gradually sank into Slaanesh's whispers, the sweet voice like venom, slowly corroding his will.

Why suppress yourself?

Slaanesh's voice echoed in his ears, "You longed for liberation more than anyone else... the darkness of Gotham, the destruction of Metropolis, the souls that died because of you... you didn't have to suffer all of this."

Bruce's breathing became rapid.

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

Countless visions flashed before his eyes—Gotham was burning in flames, the Joker's head was being cooked by himself, and Superman's corpse was floating in space.

Alfred's eyes showed disappointment... These were all fabrications that had not happened, but what was terrifying was that a twisted pleasure was mixed in with these desperate scenes.

“Accept it…” Slaanesh raised his fingertips, as if gently caressing Bruce’s soul from afar, “Turn pain into pleasure, turn repression into indulgence…You deserve to enjoy all of this.”

Bruce's resolve began to waver.

However, just as his defenses were about to collapse—

A blinding golden light suddenly ripped through the dream.

The light was like a sharp sword.

The crimson palace crumbled in the intense light that pierced through Slaanesh's domain. Slaanesh's laughter abruptly ceased, replaced by an angry shriek.

"Why don't you save your power for something else? Damn it! Our universe is gone! We need something to exist! You and your race need it too!"

Slaanesh is roaring.

Bruce felt an irresistible force pulling him.

He was pulled back from the abyss of chaos. His vision was filled with pure gold, and at the edge of that light, he could vaguely see a blurry figure.

A giant sitting on a golden throne.

His face was withered, yet he still exuded unparalleled majesty. His eyes burned with a cold flame as he stared directly at Bruce, as if they could pierce through his soul.

"Only once, humans from another world." A deep and majestic voice echoed in Bruce's mind; it was not language, but a will directly imprinted on his consciousness.

next second.

"boom!"

Bruce sprang from the bed, gasping for breath.

His heart was pounding and his muscles were tense, as if he had just gone through a life-or-death struggle.

"What happened?" Batman looked around blankly—the cold light of the Batcave remained, the computer screens flashed data, and Alfred's voice came through the communicator.

"Young Master, are you alright?" Bruce raised his hand to his temple, trying to recall the dream he had just had, but the memory was like an erased videotape, leaving only blurry afterimages.

"I...I'm fine," he said in a low, hoarse voice.

Batman slowly stood up and, guided by his intuition, walked to the metal cabinet containing the Red Death's body and inspected it—the sealing method was intact.

There was nothing unusual about the corpse inside.

"What kind of dream did I have?"

Batman took off his clothes and examined his entire body. He found no signs of corrosion, but he felt increasingly uneasy and terrified.

There is very important information.

It seemed to have left no trace in his mind. However, out of caution, Batman quickly dragged out the metal box and carried the Red Death's body back to the Batmobile.

The chariot sped out.

Rushed into the distance.

"Is it because of this corpse, or because I myself have already been contaminated?" Batman sensed something was wrong, but he didn't know exactly what was wrong.

Two hours later.

Mariana Trench.

The leaden clouds hung low, and restless undercurrents surged on the sea. The Batmobile hovered above the waves, its engines humming, its exhaust plumes sending up fine mists of water vapor in the damp air.

Bruce stood by the hatch, silently gazing at the dark sea. A few minutes earlier, he had sealed the Red Death's corpse into a container and temporarily stored it in a warehouse deep in this area of ​​the sea.

"Afu, close the underwater lock gate."

Bruce said in a low voice, which was more hoarse than usual.

"It's done, sir." The butler's voice came through the communicator, tinged with a rare hesitation. "What did you seal into that place?"

In this regard.

Bruce didn't answer. He reached out and gripped the edge of the tank's hatch, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, rushed towards him.

Like some kind of silent warning.

He looked back.

One last look at the sea that had devoured the Red Death Demon.

The water surface has returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.

But unease continued to gnaw at his nerves.

There are things that have already happened, and at some point they may happen again.

It had nothing to do with his own counterpart, but only with a certain state of his own—guilt? This thought was like a thorn, deeply embedded in Bruce's consciousness.

"I am now the best test subject."

The Batmobile drove away from the sea.

He still had no intention of asking for help.

Compared to before going to sleep.

Batman, Bruce Wayne, has clearly become increasingly arrogant—something is still at play, and perhaps this isn't the first time he's been affected by it.

……

metropolis.

On the site of the Kent family's old house.

The brand-new wooden house stood out against the night sky, its interior illuminated by candlelight and flashlights. Superman truly lived up to his name, managing to complete the construction of his new home in just a few hours.

Who else deserves the title of the best builder? In fact, Clark clearly has this hobby. Even after the cabin was repaired, he was still staying up all night making furniture.

"Zizzizi~"

In the living room, which was much smaller than before, Clark used thermal imaging to precisely carve the grain of an oak chair, the wood shavings carrying a faint smell of roasted pine as they drifted in the air.

“Oh, Dad, you didn’t make a bump in this area. Ian said the chair needs to be ergonomically designed, otherwise it will affect his inspiration when he’s writing.”

Jonathan squatted down beside him, helping out.

"Does Ian need inspiration when he writes? Doesn't he just blurt it out?" Clark's lips twitched, but he still adjusted the angle and made a new chair.

He was very satisfied with this new work.

And right now.

"Clark! Time to get back to work!"

Louise's voice came from the stairwell. She had changed into business attire, holding a voice recorder and notebook, but froze when she saw the scene in the living room.

“Huff, huff, huff~”

I saw.

Jordan, the second oldest brother in the family, was standing in the corner, his chest heaving dramatically, creating a visible vortex of air in the room.

"What are you doing?" Louise asked, her eyes wide.

"Air purification."

Jordan answered seriously, taking a deep breath as if all the dust in the living room was gathering at his nose. "Ian said there's a lot of formaldehyde in newly renovated houses."

"He gave me three hundred dollars for my services and let me use my skills." For some reason, Jordan even sounded a little proud when he said this last sentence.

"..."

Louise's gaze swept across the empty living room—aside from the chair Clark had just made, there wasn't even a carpet on the entire first floor, and the clothes she was wearing were old clothes she had brought back from her hometown.

"No, this environment is all solid wood, how could there be formaldehyde?" Mom looked around. The new house didn't even have any furniture, let alone her own special item, "red wine".

Hear the words.

Clark looked slightly embarrassed.

“I gave Ian six hundred dollars, and he said he could handle the burnt smell.” Clark’s super sense of smell was very sensitive, and he was still a little unaccustomed to the smell of his new home.

"?????"

Louise looked at her second son, who was starting to inhale again.

"Did you hear that?! Ian got six hundred dollars!"

She reminded Jordan, hoping he would realize his mistake.

however.

"It's a 50/50 split, very fair. He contributes his wisdom and I contribute my strength. We both cheat... and we both get the hard-earned money from our parents." Jordan truly has a super brain.

This answer made Louise immediately cover her forehead.

Where is Ian?

She knew perfectly well who was responsible for making her work overtime again tonight.

The heroic sacrifice of Superman's son?
Louise felt a headache coming on just thinking about the manuscript she had to finish that night.

He said he and Wonder Woman had developed a deep friendship and he wanted to write a book for her called "Catwoman, Don't Look Back, I'm Batman."

Jonathan gave his elderly mother an answer.

"It's clearly 'Wonder Woman treated me like Zeus all those years'."

Jordan refuted this.

"..."

Clark and Louise looked at each other in silence.

at the same time.

Is Ian really writing a book?

it's not true.

He actually took advantage of everyone's inattention to enjoy his first poop in the new bathroom of his new home—as an evil god, he could poop whenever he wanted.

but.

Things are unpredictable.

[Dimensional data has been extracted.]

Loading...

The feeling of "Awesome!" is just beginning to build.

Ian only felt a blur before his eyes.

The next moment, he heard cheers.

(End of this chapter)