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

Chapter 142 The King in Yellow vs. Ian, the King of Angels!

The moment Ian gripped the short sword.

The entire heaven seemed to tremble.

A glory invisible to the living shone forth, and the holy flames burning on the sword instantly surged, crackling and popping in the surrounding viscous air. Dean and Sam were forced to take a few steps back.

"!!!!!!"

Sam and Dean stared in disbelief at the scene before them.

His mouth was so wide open that it could almost fit an egg.

The two brothers raised their arms to shield themselves from the oncoming heat. The heat wasn't actually scorching, just very blinding; after all, Dean and Sam weren't the targets of its judgment.

"What the hell is this thing?" Dean shouted, squinting. He only saw Ian grip the short sword, and then the short sword burst into an extremely dazzling white flame.

"It's a level 999 sword, a limited-time top-tier pay-to-win weapon. But now that it's in Ian's hands, even if God and some giant monster come at me, I won't get it back." Ian looked down at the blazing short sword in his hand, his expression showing a determination that seemed to suggest he was ready to run away and become Marvel's Ian at any moment.

People are easily swayed by self-interest.

He knew the origin of this sword all too well—it was a god-slaying weapon bestowed upon Azrael, the angel of death, by God himself, and theoretically, only Lucifer could ignite the sword of the end.

It is rumored.

It is a weapon forged by God himself, bestowed upon the angel of death, Azrael, to carry out the final judgment. It possesses the power to sever all divinity and demonic nature.

It's the only weapon that can truly "kill" angels and "harm" Lucifer. Of course, the lore says it can also cut down God, but anyone who believes that should sit at the same table as Jordan.

God created countless things, all labeled as capable of killing themselves. Anyone with eyes can see that God is lying; He must be the first fisherman in the universe.

of course.

despite this.

This does not prevent the Sword of God from possessing extraordinary attributes.

Even a mortal could kill a god with it in his hand, let alone when it's ignited with holy flames. It can even split dimensions and tear apart reality. Right now, this thing is burning like a torch in Ian's hands.

"The appearance of the Wen family's duo here is definitely not a coincidence; everything is being arranged by an invisible hand."

Ian looked at the God-Slaying Spear in his left hand and swung the God Sword in his right hand. He felt like the protagonist in the opening cutscene of a story, directly obtaining the Hero's Divine Armor.

To say it's a coincidence is an overstatement.

Ian wouldn't believe it even if you beat the Winchester brothers a thousand times over. He was genuinely worried that God had a crush on him; after all, who knows if the priests' fetishes were a form of meme contamination passed down from the source?

"What do you mean?"

Sam and Dean were both a little confused.

“Look, I set this sword on fire, that doesn’t make sense.”

Ian didn't believe that God Old Deng wasn't secretly watching, after all, the sword in his hand could only be ignited under normal circumstances when Lucifer Morningstar was holding it himself.

however.

Now Ian has also set the sword ablaze.

But he was neither Lucifer nor God's messenger. The holy flames on the sword burned ever brighter, instantly reaching forty meters high. The blazing white light enveloped the three of them, Ian's figure appearing and disappearing within the flames. Sam and Dean stared in disbelief, their jaws practically dropping to the floor.

"You're an angel, so it's normal for you to be able to use angelic weapons, right? I think... you must be the angel of lies and temptation, lurking among humans, waiting for your chance to strike?"

Sam's idea carried a childlike imagination. The things the angels entrusted to them for safekeeping were, of course, the angels' weapons—a perfectly reasonable and conventional understanding. Since he wasn't usually interested in occult knowledge, he could only rely entirely on his imagination to conjure up a heavenly position that fit his understanding of Ian's personality.

"?????"

Ian was puzzled by his image in Sam's eyes. Not only Sam, whom he had only met four or five times, but even Dean, with whom he had never had any formal interaction in the past, seemed to have some reservations about him.

“I think he’s more like a rebellious Cupid.” Dean actually started discussing Ian with Sam in front of Ian, his gaze occasionally glancing at the Colt pistol in Ian’s left hand. The eldest Winchester brother didn’t know the gun’s power, but he knew very well how much his father valued it.

"Bullshit, you're Cupid, your whole family are Cupids." Ian's insults usually go through three stages, and Dean, who left him speechless, was currently in the first stage.

obviously.

Ian is very bothered by people calling him a naked kid.

"Lord Ian is now an archangel, the Seraphim Ian, greater than great." He corrected himself, adopting a new identity, and with a thought, modified his ordinary, mimicry-student uniform. Countless symbiotic-like substances surged, wriggling and spreading across his skin as if alive.

Flesh-like matter rolled all over Ian's body, revealing his suit. However, the "S" symbol that originally represented Superman on his chest was replaced with a completely new symbol after a twist.

King of Angels

There were many small wings flapping on top, but the fleshy wings didn't look quite sacred. There was no way around it; the mimicry absorbed a symbiote, so it couldn't simulate a sense of holiness.

As Sam and Dean stared in disbelief, eight more grotesque, mimicking spider legs suddenly emerged from Ian's back, gleaming like metal in the heavenly sunlight.

"See that? An eight-winged seraph!" Ian floated triumphantly in mid-air, spreading his arms as if to embrace the world, his spider legs drawing dangerous arcs in the air.

Mr. Ian displayed his most majestic posture.

Sam and Dean fell silent again.

Looking at the eight spider legs swaying in the air, they doubted whether they were actually in heaven. Upon closer reflection, they realized that the old black angel they had met earlier looked like a fallen angel just by his skin color.

"That thing moving around behind you is creepy. It doesn't look like angel wings." Dean was the bravest of them all, and he directly refuted Ian's demonstration.

This contrasted sharply with Sam's attempt to offer insincere praise. Well, those who tell the truth often suffer; Dean was slammed into the head by Ian's powerful dunk.

He used the body of the Colt Godslayer Gun, and his force was very precise. He didn't cause Dean's head to explode or make him unconscious. Dean just lay on the ground, clutching his head with a big bump, grimacing.

"Have you ever been an angel? You just spout nonsense and make assumptions, labeling them as pure blasphemy. Angels are like that! Demons are the ones who need to be very good-looking."

"Angels need to use their extreme evil to deter countless evils!" To avoid the other party bringing up his most handsome face on Earth, Ian activated his mimicry armor in full-coverage mode.

A hideous mask with a gaping maw covered Ian's face, and his eyes gleamed with a scarlet light. Ian reused his evil face as a demon god as material for an angel.

"??????"

"!!!!!!"

Sam and Dean were clearly stunned. The fully-formed "Seraph Ian" stood in front of them, his eight spider legs twisting in mid-air like an angel flapping its wings.

This design is not only enough to intimidate evil, it would definitely scare children to tears.

Just now.

Dean's expression suddenly changed.

He got it.

“I knew it! I’ve slept with sixteen virgins, how could I possibly go to heaven!” Dean turned to look at his brother, as if he had already figured out that this was not heaven but another place.

Sam's gaze shifted back and forth between Ian's menacing mask and the corrupted holy city.

He also somewhat agreed with his older brother's opinion.

“I…I have to confess something.” Sam’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a deep breath and began to confess, “When I was five, I stole dog food from my neighbor’s house. That was definitely wrong.”

Good guy.

He revealed his dark past.

Perhaps they felt that this would cleanse them of their sins?
"??????" Dean's expression was as if he had been struck by lightning.

“Back then, when you and Dad went out hunting demons, I would have starved to death if I hadn’t eaten,” Sam muttered in defense.

"We definitely left you money!"

“I’ll remind you again, I was five years old back then!” Sam suddenly raised his voice. “Living in one of the worst neighborhoods in America, with a hundred dollars in my hand, do you think I would dare to go out and buy anything?”

He was indeed a very smart child from a young age.

Ian is very empathetic about this.

“I think he really shouldn’t go out with 100 yuan, especially in a more chaotic neighborhood. Your little brother who’s eating dog food could very well become a little brother whose parts are scattered all over the world.”

Ian disliked watching others argue in front of him, so he took the initiative to mediate, saying, "Stop arguing, this really is heaven, and I really am the Seraphim Ian."

Seeing that neither of them believed it.

“The one you met in the human world was just my shell. What he did had nothing to do with me.” When Ian got angry, he could even distance himself from himself.

This is true detachment from emotion.

however.

Despite making such a self-criticizing statement, he still failed to gain the trust of the Wen family's duo.

“My sewers are cleaner than that. This must be a corrupt holy city!” Sam pointed to the holy city shrouded in black mist in the distance. He couldn’t see the slime, but he could sense the ominousness emanating from it.

“That is indeed the Fallen Holy City, you read that right, but it’s only because of a small problem. It is for this reason that Seraph Ian was awakened from his slumber.”

“I will go to protect my beloved paradise immediately.” Ian said, while checking the Colt Godslayer, which contained two manually loaded bullets.

The quantity is not small.

After all, this gun only had 13 bullets. On that night in 1835, Halley's Comet streaked across the sky, and at the same time, those possessed by demons were executed under the poplar trees. It was during that extraordinary moment that Samuel Colt, by chance and for reasons unknown, created this gun.

And those thirteen bullets.

Only the thirteen bullets that were created at the time, combined with the God-Slaying Gun, could unleash its true power.

The kind of power that can kill everything.

"Do whatever you want, my brother and I just want to go back to the human world." Dean rubbed his temples; unable to find his mother, he didn't want to stay in this place any longer.

"You guys are confused. Going to heaven before you're even dead is definitely a good thing. It saves you a lot of years of detours. If it were me, I would stay here and never leave."

Ian pointed in a direction where they could hide.

"Forehead……"

The two brothers exchanged a glance and found that this twisted logic was strangely reasonable.

"But I haven't had enough of the wonderful world of humankind."

Dean said weakly.

Sam immediately chimed in, "I've never even had a girlfriend!"

He might also have some repressed feelings.

Ian sighed softly and said earnestly, "Once you've had your fill of enjoying yourself, you might not be able to go to heaven anymore. This world of temptations is just a decadent atmosphere created by demons."

This statement is not without merit. Considering that the Demon King of Crossroads controls the entertainment industry, it is likely that many demons have industries on Earth that can attract humans to degenerate.

Such advice.

That makes perfect sense.

Dean was somewhat shaken.

“But our father is still here, all alone…” In the end, family ties prevailed over the allure of heaven. Dean frowned and spoke of his father, whom he could not bear to part with.

In this regard.

Ian gave a crooked smile, his mask with its enormous mouth tilted perfectly at an angle.

"As long as your father goes bankrupt to buy the indulgence, I can definitely smuggle him out of the country ahead of time." Holding the holy sword that could cleave dimensions, Ian was even more confident in expanding and strengthening his immigration brokerage business.

Hear the words.

Sam and Ian were stunned again.

"Is this okay?"

This is indeed different from their common sense.

Are you really an angel?

Sam felt he was about to lose his composure. If even angels were leading the way in selling indulgences, then the origin of the medieval priests selling indulgences could be traced back to that period.

"Don't ask me such a stupid question."

Ian used Batman's deep voice.

Before Dean and Sam could react, Ian raised the holy sword high, his eight spider legs spread out at the same time, and he floated up like a real angel.

A halo of holy flames formed around him. These were not ordinary flames, but divine fire ignited by glory, each wisp containing the power to incinerate all depravity and evil.

It has an extraordinary presence.

It certainly intimidated Dean and Sam.

Just as the two were still processing all of this, suddenly—in the direction of the polluted holy city in the distance, countless viscous substances began to surge up from the city.

Immediately following, a murky and distorted singing voice rang out, a voice that seemed to whisper from an indescribable depth, striking directly at the deepest fears and darkness in people's hearts.

Dean and Sam felt a sudden wave of dizziness, as if the song had awakened the darker side of their inner selves, and negative emotions surged like a tide. The two immediately knelt down in pain.

Cover your ears.

Trying to resist the melody that erodes the mind.

"Children, it seems we must say goodbye." Ian's voice suddenly rang out, low and sorrowful, as if he had used all his strength to utter such a tragic tone.

"What's going on?" The two brothers barely managed to look up, only to see Ian with his back to them, his eight "winged" spider legs trembling slightly, as if he were enduring some indescribable sorrow.

“I never imagined that even if I died in battle and became an angel, I would still be destined to sacrifice myself again…” His voice choked slightly. “Perhaps this is my final fate as a hero.”

Dean and Sam were stunned.

This sudden tragic turn of events made them momentarily forget the impact of the song. The two of them covered their ears and looked at each other in bewilderment, completely failing to keep up with Ian's emotional shift.

The emotionally charged words left the two brothers completely bewildered, and they temporarily ignored the impact of the song.

"Could you speak in a way that we can understand?"

However, when they looked up at Ian again, an even more shocking scene appeared—Ian's eight "winged" spider legs were somehow covered with eight pairs of flesh-colored stockings.

"W-What the hell?!" Dean's eyes widened, his brain completely shutting down.

Sam stared intently at the stockings fluttering in the wind.

Pupil earthquake.

"Wait...this..."

He seemed to be enduring some unbearable pain. At this moment, the clever younger brother of the Wen family duo appeared to have realized that what Ian said wasn't actually meant for them.

A black box was constantly glowing around Ian.

Ian slowly turned around.

The close-up shot followed.

"The Angel in Stockings will absolutely not allow disaster to spread beyond Heaven." With that, he suddenly flapped his wings (spider legs) and soared into the air, his holy flames surging, and his entire being transformed into a streak of light.

They rushed headlong into the polluted holy city.

The suspended black box followed closely behind. Dean stared blankly at Ian's departing figure, and after a long while, he finally managed to stammer, "What stocking angel? Didn't he say he was a seraph?!"

Seraphim and stocking angels are not actually in conflict.

Unfortunately, no one is here to explain it anymore.

Sam slapped his forehead and yelled in frustration, "Damn it! Ian is 'Stocking Superman'! I even tipped him fifty dollars for his 'Death of Superman' video!"

He was clearly one of those people who had their faith and even money drained by DC directors.

"No way! He died on Earth and then reappeared in Heaven? How can this have a sequel?!" Sam slumped to the ground, his face blank. In the distance, from the black mist of the Holy City, came Ian's hearty laughter.

"There is no turning back. There are no limits to being a stocking angel. To protect what must be protected, regardless of light or darkness—this is my way of heaven, no, my way of messenger, the way of the angel!"

"Delete it and start over."

……

Although there were some hiccups in between.

but.

After the sudden change, Ian did not hesitate and rushed straight into the Holy City.

The holy city of heaven should be a radiant and glorious place, but at this moment, it is being corrupted by some indescribable pollution. Fortunately, the boundaries are bound by an invisible force, which prevents the corruption from spreading outward.

of course.

This, however, turned the interior into a completely twisted purgatory.

The moment I stepped in.

Ian's vision suddenly distorted.

The air grew thick and viscous, as if soaked in some rotten liquid, each breath carrying a foul, sweet, and decaying stench. The sky was no longer a pure azure, but a sickly purplish-black, the clouds writhing like festering wounds, occasionally cracking open to reveal countless indescribable faces behind them.

They were all coldly watching down below.

The ground was no longer the original white marble, but covered with a layer of wriggling black fungal carpet, the surface of which was covered with dense tentacles and eyeballs.

Each eyeball gleams with a light beyond human comprehension, and stepping on it produces a sticky, teeth-grinding sound, as if crushing countless insect eggs.

On both sides of the street, the once solemn angel statues are now twisted and deformed, their wings broken, their faces melted, and tumor-like growths growing on their stone bodies.

Some even opened eyes that didn't belong to the sculptures.

A mad will flashed in his pupils.

Those towers that once symbolized purity and order have now been replaced by distorted structures, their walls covered in sticky runes that emit a low hum, like the whispers of countless ancient beings.

"There is also a lot of pollution that we can't see."

Even more terrifying were those unseen beings. Ian could sense that at the edge of his vision, in the shadows beyond the reach of light, countless distorted things were approaching him.

They do not have a fixed shape.

Ian couldn't even detect the specific trajectory.

It can only be perceived vaguely.

That is the most terrifying enemy in the Cthulhu Mythos—the Unspeakable One.

These entities themselves constitute a corrupted reality. Merely approaching them causes unnatural ripples to appear on the surface of Ian's mimicry armor, as if the armor is being slowly dissolved by some force.

"Ugh~"

Ian couldn't help but gag a few times.

He had only tasted the Cthulhu Mist once, and never wanted to taste it again. Every time he recalled it, he was convinced that it would be the most terrible nightmare of his gourmet career.

"I'm also disgusted by Cthulhu."

Ian could feel eyes on him from all directions.

he knows.

They are being watched. They don't show themselves directly.

Instead, they penetrate the human heart through perception, memory, and fear. They exist in the cracks of reality, invisible to the naked eye, yet they can plunge a person into eternal madness in just a few seconds.

No hesitation.

Ian immediately swung the holy sword in his hand.

Their movements were as light as the wind.

The holy sword, however, unleashed a world-destroying power. It surged and became a colossal, blazing white wave that swept outwards from Ian in all directions.

Holy flames swept across the entire holy city like a flood.

Wherever you go.

The air crackled with a sharp, explosive sound, as if space itself were ablaze. Those invisible, distorted entities didn't even have time to scream before they were reduced to ashes in the holy flames.

They struggled, writhed, and tried to escape, but to no avail. The holy flames engulfed them like a tsunami, purifying along with the part of reality they inhabited.

The ground returned to its original whiteness, and the writhing eyeballs and tentacles vanished in the flames. The black mist in the sky was dispelled, revealing a corner of the true heavenly dome.

After the sword was swung out.

What followed was a period of great upheaval.

The entire fallen holy city trembled at that moment.

That's not just purification.

It felt more like a trial.

All sounds are silent.

“There are still some remnants.”

Ian stood at the center of the storm, his cloak fluttering in the wind, holy flames surging around him. A second wave of holy flames swept out, completely incinerating the last remaining filth.

The holy flames relentlessly burned away every inch of filth.

The entire corrupted holy city trembled beneath his feet, as if it had submitted to this self-proclaimed angel king. The buildings gradually lost their distortion, revealing the outlines of angelic sculptures once more.

The rotten, fishy smell in the air was replaced by a scorching heat.

It was as if the whole world had been reset to its original glory.

"The culprit is probably inside."

Ian stood still.

Holding a holy sword.

Before him lay a path paved with holy flames.

He did not turn back or pause, but strode forward, through a path opened by holy flames, and into God's abode—the most sacred and inviolable place in heaven.

This is a magnificent yet eerie hall, with a towering dome that seems to connect to the source of heaven, and countless reliefs inlaid on the walls, depicting sacred scenes of angels descending and judging sin.

However, at this moment, these statues exude a nauseating stench.

They are not static decorations.

They are moving.

Along both sides of the corridor, countless twisted statues knelt, their heads bowed and hands clasped in front of their chests, as if in devout prayer, emitting low, murky, seductive, and frenzied songs.

The sound was like a call from the depths of hell, its tone fluctuating, sometimes plaintive and sometimes maniacal, each note eroding reason.

It's like an irresistible curse, gradually eroding one's mind.

"Pollution Hymn".

Ian murmured softly, his brow furrowed.

Without hesitation, he raised the burning sword of God in his hand and swung it fiercely!
A blazing wave of holy flames tore through the void and swept out!

Flames surged through the corridor like a tidal wave, engulfing the kneeling statues. They struggled, writhed, and screamed in the fire before finally turning to ashes and being completely purified.

then.

Beneath the statue.

One by one, the true angels who had been previously shrouded slowly revealed themselves.

Their pure white wings were bound by stone, their faces contorted in pain, and the moment they regained their freedom, they seemed to be pulled by some invisible force and began to slowly sink into the ground.

"and many more."

Ian tried to capture one of the most magnanimous angels but failed.

The angels' fall and destruction seemed irreversible.

“Ian Kent…” Just as his fingertips were about to touch the other, the angel sank completely into the floor, leaving only a faint sigh.

All the remaining angels, as if drawn by fate, plunged into darkness without hesitation, as if destined to fall to earth and become part of the fallen angels.

Ian knows.

There must be a reason behind this.

The reason is unspeakable.

"The audio clip from just now, when replaced with another audio, wasn't calling me Ian Kent. Instead, she called me the Great Angel King, saying they had let me down and that she would vote for me again in the next life." Perhaps Ian wasn't brave enough, as he actually muted his own voice.

He turned to his black box and gave it orders.

This was not just Ian's filming, but also Ian's test. If the black box can still function normally in such an environment, then its true origin may need to be investigated in depth.

The new Tony teacher is just artificial intelligence; it's impossible for them to create such a magical tool.

"Are there still corrupted angels inside?" Ian continued forward and discovered that although the holy flame had purified the corridor, the annoying singing still came from the depths of the hall.

He swung his sword again.

This time, he clearly saw the holy flame abruptly stop in front of the temple gate, as if it had hit an invisible wall, and the irritating song continued to echo.

"No, my trial card hasn't expired yet."

Ian squinted.

He strode into the hall, unhindered by any unseen force. In stark contrast to the polluted outside world, the hall was imbued with holiness.

Golden light streamed down from the dome, illuminating the gleaming marble floor. Lifelike statues of angels stood on either side, their faces serene, singing hymns—but for some reason, the music, which should have been calming, now made Ian feel inexplicably agitated.

It tastes the same as hearing polluted hymns.

"What's going on?" Ian shook the holy sword violently in mid-air. The flames on it were still burning, but it could no longer extend or cut out tangible sword energy as before.

“Something… is affecting it.” Ian made a helpless judgment, his gaze sweeping across the entire hall before finally settling on a throne at the front.

It was an empty throne.

It is located in the very center of the main hall.

There was no sense of majesty, only the ordinariness of an ordinary seat. Of course, the throne that could appear in this place could only be the exclusive seat of a single being.

"Is it the majesty of God that makes it dare not offend him..." Ian looked down at the extraordinary artifact in his hand, which had not been trained by him and therefore did not possess much spirituality.

It was as quiet as the demon head playing dead behind it.

"There's a stone pillar in front of the throne, and is that a Bible on it?" Ian climbed the high steps and saw the letters on the cover of the book placed in front of the throne.

"death Note!?"

have to say.

Ian was somewhat taken aback.

The moment he subconsciously reached out to touch it, a chilling aura spread from his arm to his entire body, and the blackness on the book's surface seemed to writhe and fade away as if alive.

The old, yellowed cover was revealed underneath. The gold-embossed letters of "Death Note" were twisted and deformed, recombining into an even older, more indescribable script—"The Necronomicon".

The letters weren't static; they were slowly wriggling on the cover, like countless tiny tentacles. Yes, the textures weren't written, but rather evolving characters that appeared through movement.

It's like something alive, slowly crawling, twisting, and rearranging on the pages. This is definitely not a simple name replacement, but rather the revelation of a hidden essence.

Even more terrifying was that this change was not limited to the books themselves—Ian felt a blur before his eyes, and the sacred temple shattered like a phantom in his vision.

Instead, a completely different world has emerged.

The entire environment of the hall distorted instantly in Ian's vision.

The holy golden light was replaced by a morbid dark yellow, a viscous black liquid seeped from the marble floor, and the faces of the angel statues on both sides began to melt.

It reveals an indescribable twisted nature within.

"Oh my God! What is God doing?! This place is worse than hell!" A terrified roar came from behind, from the silent demon minotaur.

"Ian God! Run! Most importantly, take me with you!" The bull's voice trembled, its eyes filled with fear. It could sense that the singing angels in the hall had been irreversibly corrupted.

The demon was panicked.

But Ian didn't move.

Because the moment he grasped the Necronomicon, the direction of the throne also changed—the previously empty throne suddenly revealed an extremely quiet figure.

It was a being draped in a tattered yellow robe, with indescribable symbols embroidered on the hem, each line seemingly writhing, trying to escape the constraints of reality.

"What the hell."

Ian realized it.

Perhaps He has always been sitting there.

Ian just hadn't been able to see it before.

The air was somewhat quiet.

"The Yellow King from the Cthulhu Mythos, the Nameless One, the Lord of the Deep Space..." Ian gradually understood everything, and he just stared at the things that suddenly appeared in front of him.

About five seconds later.

"..."

The King in Yellow raised his head.

His face remained hidden in the shadows, with only a pair of unfathomable eyes visible, eyes that did not belong to humans or any known life form.

They are symbols of infinity, reflections of truth.

The King in Yellow sat quietly on that throne that did not belong to the mortal world.

His presence seemed to be the core of the entire space, distorting time and cause and effect. He neither spoke nor moved, but simply gazed at Ian with his unfathomable eyes.

at this time.

Ian did not retreat but advanced.

"I, the King of Angels, beg you to die."

Ian added what he hadn't finished saying after addressing the other person earlier.

He took a sudden step forward.

The holy sword, with a sharp whistling sound, pierced directly through the chest of the King in Yellow.

however.

The display of power was impressive, but the holy sword didn't kill its opponent outright. The flames on the sword extinguished the instant it pierced the robe. Although the sword pierced through the yellow robe, it was as if it had pierced a phantom, offering no real sensation, no resistance, and causing no damage whatsoever. The Yellow King's figure flickered between reality and illusion.

It's as if it exists in another dimension.

"Crench, crunch."

His neck made a sickening "crack" as it slowly turned. Beneath the wide yellow hood, an indescribable face seemed to still be watching Ian.

"..." Ian stubbornly poured divine power into the holy sword, but the holy sword did not accept his divine power. He stabbed it dozens of times, but it still could not ignite the flame it should.

Each stab hit its mark precisely, yet each time felt like piercing thin air. The opponent's figure existed between illusion and reality; physically, it was impossible to actually touch them.

This caused a bug with the Holy Sword.

The King in Yellow remained silent.

He slowly raised his withered hand and gently patted the throne beneath him, as if to tell Ian that sitting here, he could not be harmed by Ian.

"No, this kind of setup..." Ian wanted to curse God out loud. Clearly, the King in Yellow was a genius at exploiting bugs, even more adept at it than Ian, a mere bug-exploiting expert.

Ian drew his sword.

He then stabbed her repeatedly dozens of times in a frenzy.

It was ultimately useless.

Just as Ian was feeling the pinch, thinking he might have to use up all the bullets in his Colt pistol, the King in Yellow didn't lower his raised hand; instead, he pointed directly at Ian's forehead.

The movements were slow, even somewhat languid, as if he were simply brushing aside a fallen leaf.

"Something's wrong!"

Ian reacted extremely quickly, retreating dozens of meters in an instant, but the hand seemed to ignore the barrier of space, still approaching his brow accurately, slowly, and irresistibly.

"damn it……!"

Ian only managed to utter those few words.

The King in Yellow gently touched his forehead with his fingertip.

"Is this going to corrupt me? Am I going to become Cthulhu Ion?" He had already witnessed the other party's methods and understood that the other party's attack method was definitely not a "physical attack" in the ordinary sense.

Ian found that he wasn't as shocked as he had imagined.

even.

He was somewhat bewildered by the silence in the air.

"No, what are you doing?"

There is no sound.

I felt nothing else.

only--

A slightly cold touch.

He looked at the yellow-robed king sitting on the throne of God with some surprise. At this moment, not only was he stunned, but it seemed that the mute king was also unable to react.

An eerie silence fell over the air once again.

The King in Yellow remained silent, as enigmatic as ever.

The void beneath the hood stared at Ian. In the deadly silence of the standoff, Ian suddenly reacted instantly, snapping his jaws open and biting the finger that was pointing at his forehead.

"Crack!"

Shockingly, he actually bit into something substantial. The Yellow King's fingers had a texture like rotten parchment, giving him a feeling of nausea.

[WARNING: Access to incorrect data]

The target cannot be analyzed.

A system notification flashed in Ian's mind.

But he simply couldn't be bothered to pay any attention.

Even if it tastes terrible.

Ian also felt he wanted to save a Colt bullet.

The ever-calm King in Yellow finally reacted—the King in Yellow remained silent, but his frantic tugging at his fingers showed that he was not truly at peace.

"Ha! Can't keep up the act anymore, huh?"

Ian held on tightly, being pulled forward unsteadily.

At extremely close distance.

The hem of the Yellow King's robe fluttered even without wind.

Suddenly, He raised his other hand, its five fingers like knives, and stabbed towards Ian's chest. As the hand moved, it twisted and deformed, eventually transforming into countless writhing yellow tentacles.

Go straight for Ian's heart.

"Ultra Bomb!"

Ian looked at his chest, which was churning with flesh and blood.

he shouted.

next moment.

Not only the divine power within his body, but also the divine power stored in the extra dimension, erupted from Ian's body, a white light even more dazzling than a supernova explosion that engulfed the entire temple.

The shockwave spread in a spherical shape, causing even space itself to crumble in its path. The distorted statues vaporized instantly in the light, and the black stone floor melted and boiled like chocolate.

The most terrifying thing was the temperature at the center of the explosion—an extreme heat that could evaporate a star in a microsecond. At that moment, the appearance of the King in Yellow seemed to be directly swallowed up by it.

For the first time, the ever-present yellow robe was torn. In the distance, the Winchester brothers, who were sitting on the ground slumped over, suddenly heard a deafening explosion.

They looked up sharply and saw a blinding white light shoot into the sky from the direction of the Holy City, followed by a shockwave that swept across the entire Heaven. A mushroom cloud slowly rose.

"As expected, to defeat Cthulhu, we still need Ultraman, the Tiga Bomb!"

"Sun Soup Supplement!"

"Tiga Bomb!"

"Sun Soup Supplement!"

There are truly indescribable sounds echoing in heaven.

The Holy City of Angels.

The outline crumbled in the light.

It was already in heaven.

But now it's still been blown into the sky.

Perhaps all angels have become homeless children.

(End of this chapter)