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

Chapter 173 Ian's death is imminent!
A light drizzle is falling.

In the small, glowing mirrors in front of Miss Death.

The Metropolitan God of Gamblers, who believes that the bigger the storm, the more valuable the fish, is back on the card. This time, the roles are reversed, and even Lucifer, who was previously a radical, thinks Ian is too radical.

"Are you crazy? Sending a child to that old man? Are you rewarding him?!" Lucifer was advising Ian to tone down his talents, but Ian always ignored such advice.

"As long as they give birth to 88,888 babies in one pregnancy! As long as they're busy taking care of the children, I'll be safe, and those two won't be able to continue to harm me!"

"It's just a little shiver for my older brother, but the whole family is safe again. Any capitalist would take a gamble! And I'm a qualified capitalist!"

"It's perfectly reasonable! It's perfectly reasonable!" Ian had been enlightened by Lucifer. If Lucifer thought that the love potion would work on the Creator Duo who had bound themselves to mortal bodies, then the pregnancy potion he got from Thanos would definitely work as well. Adding a pregnancy spell would be like double insurance.

Under the sofa, Ian and Lucifer, like two sardines crammed into a can, peeked out at God and the Goddess of Creation having their candlelight dinner.

Seeing Ian's resolute expression, Lucifer was completely stunned.

"Eight, eight at most... Don't go too far!" He tried to get Ian to back down, but Ian's will to survive was unusually strong at this moment.

He felt his plan was absolutely brilliant, a truly permanent solution to the crisis.

"That's called strategic defense. Your father used the child to bind the marriage, while I gained peace—in most cases, breastfeeding and estrus don't coexist under normal circumstances."

Ian thought this was the best way to dissuade the Creator Goddess from openly pursuing him. He lowered his voice, his eyes peering through the gap in the sofa—God was using Jonathan's body to cut steak for the Creator Goddess.

The movements were elegant to the point of being slightly affected.

"You call 88,000 children 'breastfeeding period'? That's a cosmic disaster!" Lucifer's eye twitched. He had finally met someone even crazier than himself.

The Lord of Hell could even see from Ian's suspicious gaze that he was wondering if Ian was afraid of having too many younger siblings fighting over the inheritance. This was a direction that a normal person would pay attention to.
“Although I’m still missing a good pen, I have a brilliant plan right now.” Ian ignored Lucifer’s protests and pulled out “Ian’s Magic Book” from his pocket.

"It can't affect my damn parents."

Lucifer stared as Ian opened the magic book that had fallen from the Origin Wall. He noticed that Ian was blocking his view, and the more he did so, the more uneasy he felt.

Why do you look so confident?

Lucifer had no idea where Ian’s inexplicable confidence came from. He was just about to pretend to kick Ian away to see what Ian was writing when he noticed that Ian suddenly looked up at him.

"This guy found out? No, he shouldn't be able to read my mind." Lucifer saw Ian's eyes light up, and a feeling of guilt just began to rise within him.

Something he never expected in his life happened.

"Bang bang!"

In his God of Gamblers form, Ian was incredibly audacious, throwing two punches at Lucifer's nose as if he was afraid of not getting a nosebleed with just one punch—a super combo of two punches.

Decisive and efficient, disregarding martial ethics.

Lucifer's bones made a sickening, dull thud.

"Ow~~~"

Lucifer covered his nose, not daring to scream too loudly. Tears streamed down his face from the pain, and his devilish eyes instantly shone with a scarlet light.

This is redness from pain, slightly less severe than Jill's purplish discoloration.

“Ian Kent! Do you know who you’re attacking?!” He stared at Ian in disbelief. From childhood to adulthood, even Michael had never dared to beat him up like this with a sneak attack.

“I think you don’t want to see me become your stepfather, Ian, do you?” Ian shut Lucifer up with one sentence, his expression changing as his nose began to ache.

Fresh blood was slowly gushing out.

The tears flowed down his philtrum and dripped onto the worn carpet.

Ian paid no attention to Lucifer's anger. He immediately took out a paper cup and precisely caught a few drops of bright red blood under Lucifer's nose.

Lucifer's eyes weren't as red as his nose.

"I...how could I be injured?!" Lucifer's anger was instantly replaced by astonishment. He stared blankly at his nosebleed, momentarily unable to accept that his invincible body could be hurt. He, the mighty fallen angel Lucifer, the lord of Hell, was actually bleeding from the nose because of a mortal's fist?!
This is illogical! This is unscientific! This is not the devil! Lucifer looked at Ian with suspicion and disbelief. At this moment, an extremely absurd thought couldn't help but pop into his mind—could this boy also be his destined other half? After all, there aren't many beings who can make him bleed with a fist.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Ian's "God's Family Sexual Harassment Radar" went off like a madman. He hurriedly explained as he unscrewed the ink cartridge in his pen.

"Don't try to openly date me, and don't even think about sleeping with your mother. I just happened to let your policewoman pass by our house when she was arresting a criminal."

Ian's profession as a writer grants him the power to manipulate coincidences, turning wondrous, accidental phenomena into echoes of reality and the human mind. To a certain extent, Ian can control the minds of every being, making them act according to his will, which these beings find difficult to perceive and accept as their true thoughts.

The stories a writer writes often become reality. However, if a story lacks logic and is driven by vague reasons like "inexplicable" or "strange," then the strain on Ian's writing skills will increase. Therefore, he cannot anchor himself to life forms far, far stronger than himself.

However, Lucifer's destined lover, the policewoman, is just a mortal. This is a typical story of a CEO and a commoner. Lucifer appears as the "King of Hell," using his superpowers to seduce people, while the policewoman Chloe is the first human not affected by his "devilish instincts."

This naturally piqued Lucifer's interest, to the point that he became completely enamored and even "defined" a weakness for himself: he would lose his invincibility when he was near the policewoman. He wanted to appear vulnerable in front of her and avoid revealing his identity as the Demon King, which allowed Ian to seize the opportunity to obtain some useful divine blood ink.

"What? Detective Chloe is nearby?" This is typical of a love-struck demon king. Lucifer covered his nose, but his mind was completely off Ian's actions.

"Oh! I have to ask her if she needs my help..." He instantly forgot the pain, stuffed a wad of tissue up his nose, and took out his phone to start typing like crazy.

Ian is a kind-hearted Ian.

He didn't mention that the toilet paper under the sofa came from Jordan.

It was stained with sin.

The boy, with his exceptionally high emotional intelligence, focused intently on absorbing Lucifer's divine blood into his pen. The blood circulated within the ink sac, emanating a certain ancient power.

"Perfect."

Ian grinned, gripped his pen, and prepared to begin his "writer's work." He still kept in mind the fundamental principle of not directly referencing God and the Goddess of Creation. Of course, he dared not depict God and the Goddess of Creation directly, but what did writing the story of Charlotte and Jonathan have to do with God and the Goddess of Creation?
Charlotte Richards felt her mouth was dry. The red wine from the candlelight dinner made her slightly warm. She got up and went to the kitchen refrigerator. She opened the freezer and took out a bottle of clear liquid labeled "Ian's Special Pregnancy Elixir." However, she didn't know that this was a forbidden potion specially concocted for the gods by Ian's newly sworn brother.

Charlotte Richards treated it like any other drink and downed it. Just then, the aphrodisiac Lucifer had mixed into her dinner took effect. Divine radiance erupted within her, resonating with the pregnancy potion. Instantly, she became pregnant with 88,888 placentas, which became children upon birth.

If ginseng fruit can turn into a child, then the placenta can certainly turn into one too, so this makes perfect sense—and indeed, the cries of every child born awaken her maternal love.

Jonathan and the goddess of creation stared at each other in bewilderment, and he was forced to forgo dinner to begin preparing his ten-thousand-year-long child-rearing plan. Thus, Ian Kent finally gained freedom and peace.

Ian's extraordinary talent was at work; he gathered his writing skills and, under the light rain outside tonight, wrote a short story titled "A Little Story After the Rain" in his magic book.

The handwriting twisted and writhed on the paper, like a living thing. With each word, Ian's face grew paler. By the eighty-eighth word, his skin began to crack; by the hundredth, his hair had turned gray; and by the time he finished five hundred words, he was as withered as if he had tens of thousands of wives.

Only his eyes still gleamed with an eerie light.

Berserker Experience +11

Berserker Experience +13

Berserker Experience +14

The entire short story flowed seamlessly, and the writer's power began to take effect. However, even so, due to some of the descriptions, when Ian finished writing the last period, he felt his writing power and magic drain away in an instant; his skin dried up, his muscles atrophied, and his eye sockets sunken.

He looked like a freshly unearthed mummy.

"Writer... sir... I've succeeded!"

Ian slumped down on the sofa.

His mouth grinned and he made a hoarse, joyful sound. Even though his voice was a little breathless, as if he might kick the bucket at any moment, it did not diminish his sense of relief in the slightest.

Ian, who had been sucked dry and turned into a mummy, lay under the sofa, laughing like a mummy.

How did you manage to do it?

Lucifer was also dumbfounded.

He also understands how to alter reality, but his power is below that of God, and he knows how difficult it is to influence God. Even he has to exert all his strength to have even the slightest impact.

"This is real power!" Ian trembled as he pulled out a bottle of veterinary growth hormone. The bottle was printed with the advertising slogan "Grow fat quickly!" He tilted his head back and gulped down the entire bottle of veterinary medicine, completely convinced.

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +6]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +7]

[Savage Tyrant Experience Points +5]

……

Ian, who had started binge-eating Snickers, had no idea how effective the drug was at building muscle, but judging from the feedback from the Savage Tyrant, it was indeed quite potent.

Since discovering that disinfectant can also increase experience, Ian's focus has shifted from expensive enhancement potions to a wide variety of cost-effective leveling items at the veterinary station.

"Wait! The source of your anchoring power to reality is—my divine power?!" After replying to the policewoman's message, Lucifer began to realize that something was wrong.

The youngest son of the Kent family seems to be putting the traditional skills of this "sweet family" to good use, just like Superman thinking with all his might, Lucifer is now helping Ian with all his might.

It was discovered that Ian's "anchoring to reality" was actually a clever way of using his power. The aphrodisiac was his, the divine blood was his, and Ian's writing was actually "inked" from his existence.

Then the alteration of reality was completed.

This is truly too difficult for Lucifer to comment on.

Oh, this is the realm of wisdom.

Ian spoke weakly but proudly, "Why do you think I slapped you? How could I write a story of this caliber without letting my mortal pen absorb some divine blood to evolve?"

He makes a good point.

"..."

Lucifer's expression was incredibly interesting.

He opened his mouth.

Lucifer desperately wanted to invite Ian to be the devil right then and there. However, before Lucifer could even figure out how to offer Ian a cigarette, the story outside the sofa had already begun to unfold.

"I'm a little thirsty."

Charlotte suddenly put down her fork. Sure enough, Charlotte's human body felt thirsty, and the creator goddess inside naturally had to follow the laws of nature.

Her body instinctively rose and walked towards the refrigerator. Seeing Charlotte with her back to her, the elegant composure of this "God-like" Jonathan vanished instantly. The all-knowing, all-powerful God might not care about most things, but at this moment, God truly cared about what Ian had written.

The God-like Jonathan was a bit flustered. After confirming that Charlotte had entered the kitchen, he quickly dipped his fingertip in red wine and wrote invisible words on the table.

Ian was unaware that his pregnancy potion would become completely ineffective if refrigerated, turning it into an ordinary beverage, and that his pregnancy magic was used very poorly.

There is no success, only failure.

There were no lengthy explanations or convoluted rationale; a simple definition was given, the words appeared, and were then wiped away by the God-like Jonathan with his finger.

at the same time.

Under the sofa, Ian was slowly recovering his flesh and blood with the help of various technologies and nutrients. Suddenly, he sensed something, and a sense of desolation, tinged with utter defeat, welled up in his heart.

"I failed to steal the chicken... Damn it, no, my flesh and blood, which would still be absolutely stunning even if taken out alone!" Ian realized what it meant to fail at the last minute.

Charlotte has already finished the bottle of the super pregnancy potion.

She licked her lips contentedly.

"It tastes like strawberry soda."

The goddess of creation's abdomen remained unchanged; instead, she let out a long burp.

Ian watched as the other woman walked back. The goddess remained unaffected, and his last hope that she had the belly of a "female prime minister" and could comfortably accommodate more than 80,000 children was completely shattered.

Young writers still need more experience.

God smiled and looked towards the sofa. On the floor in front of Ian, a new line of text appeared: "The contest between two writers has ended with the older writer emerging victorious."

"..."

Ian stared at the line of text and became mute.

His only consolation was that although he hadn't succeeded, he had earned a cup of divine blood ink, which allowed him to forcefully calculate that he hadn't lost out. It was just a matter of going back from 9,980 consecutive wins to 9,979 consecutive wins. Thinking about it this way, the Metropolitan God of Gamblers was still in a winning state.

Outside the sofa, candlelight flickered.

God Jonathan pretended nothing had happened, occasionally telling a few outdated jokes. He seemed quite content, even though the Goddess of Creation chewed her food with a completely expressionless face throughout.

The goddess of creation chewed her food with a completely expressionless face throughout.

"Do you know what makes humanity so wonderful..."

Jonathan God was about to do some "educational" when the Goddess of Creation suddenly interrupted him, staring at him with suspicious eyes.

"Why are you talking so much? Do you want to sleep with me too?" The goddess of creation never fails to shock with her words. It seems that she learned about human reproduction and courtship behavior during her trip to the human world.

"..."

The knife in God Jonathan's hand clattered into the plate.

"Hmm, I see." The Goddess of Creation tilted her head, suddenly pulled up her collar, looked down at the "two big buns" inside, and then nodded as if she had just realized something.

“I understand, you humans like bodies like this, I can understand.” She put down her fork and stood up. “But, child, if you want to sleep, you have to go after Ian.”

What explosive words!

Ian, hiding under the sofa, wanted to cut off his own ear. "??????"

Even God Jonathan was somewhat dumbfounded.

He watched Charlotte Richards walk toward the door.

"where are you going?"

God Jonathan also stood up.

"Now I need to go find my new friend and see if she was eaten by wild humans on her way to buy alcohol—I remember you humans really enjoy cannibalism."

The goddess of creation dusted off her dress—which wasn't actually dust—and left. God opened his mouth as if to say something, but the goddess of creation had already disappeared into the night.

in situ.

In front of the dining table.

Only half a steak remained, along with a sullen-looking Creator.

"Damn it, looks like my medicine didn't work either." Lucifer gritted his teeth as he crawled out, brushing off the dust and Ian's footprints that were indeed on his suit.

"Hi, Samael."

Jonathan God sat in his chair, somewhat annoyed, and threw away his napkin.

Don't call me by that name!

Lucifer instantly flew into a rage.

The restaurant's chandeliers began to shake violently—this was a large-scale earthquake, though not of a very high magnitude.

"Oh, right, you've changed your own name now." God slowly forked a piece of broccoli. He didn't eat it, but just observed the ripe broccoli growing and blooming on his fork.

"You did not stop your mother's absurd behavior."

He appeared to be holding someone accountable, but he was actually just sighing.

“I already had a plan, but it’s all your fault, it’s all because of your appearance that I messed everything up. You’ve always been like this, and you never admit it, you just know how to shift the blame onto others.”

"It's like evil, hell, all of which originated from your creation, but who realizes that? Nobody! Everyone just blames me for everything!"

Lucifer's skin began to redden, and his horns and fangs appeared in an instant, revealing the true face of the devil.

"Stop making that nonchalant face of yours! I'm giving you a chance—apologize to me! And make amends for all the crimes you've committed!"

His finger almost poked the tip of God's nose.

God put down the fork.

The metal and the porcelain plate made a crisp sound.

“I thought that after so much time, you would have matured a bit.” He looked up, his eyes gleaming like a galaxy, “but it seems you’re still as disappointing as ever.”

The image of a strict father is very evident at this moment.

Lucifer, however, did not like this approach.

"You stripped me of my glory! You cast me into the abyss! You condemned me to eternal rest! Apologize!!!" Lucifer roared, his voice seemingly capable of shattering the entire dimension.

Hellfire swirled around him.

But God raised his hand and stabilized everything. He stood up and calmly walked to Lucifer. The two supreme beings stood face to face, and space itself distorted and warped because of Lucifer's rage.

This should have been an epic standoff—if only the background noise wasn't the "crackling" sound of digging.

Boom, boom, boom...

A dull thud of digging came from under the sofa.

"..." God frowned.

“…” Lucifer’s lips twitched.

The sound was continuous, like some kind of drilling machine frantically digging.

"Hey!"

God sighed, turned around, and lifted the sofa.

The space under the sofa was empty, except for a bottomless hole with several obvious claw marks along its edges. From the depths of the hole, Ian could be faintly heard humming a tune.

"I'm a little pangolin~ digging, digging, digging~"

The sound faded into the distance.

Clearly, "Pangolin Ian" has already used earth magic.

"."

God is the oldest life form and the creator of words and language, but at this moment, he feels that he has finally found something he could not do himself.

That is, how to use language to describe one's feelings, and Ian's actions.

Just now.

Lucifer suddenly chuckled.

"See? He's not afraid of me, but he's afraid of you—afraid that you'll use his body to sleep with Mom. You're the truly cunning, treacherous, and wicked one."

He pointed to his bleeding nose, as if it had become some kind of honor that could be used to strike at God.

"Oh?"

God stared silently at the hole in the ground, then suddenly snapped his fingers.

"Holy crap! Why can't I dig anymore?! Minecraft? I've hit the hardest bedrock?" Ian's exclamation came from deep underground, near the Earth's core.

“Speaking of cunning and treachery—we haven’t settled the score for you poisoning the food earlier.” God Jonathan straightened his clothes at this moment and turned to look at Lucifer again.

The Demon King's expression froze instantly.

He stared at his petty-minded father and swallowed hard.

The air felt slightly stagnant.

Only the faint flickering of candlelight remained in the living room.

Lucifer, due to his self-perception, maintained his grotesque demonic form, with menacing horns, protruding fangs, and his nose still bleeding even after the tissue was torn off.

Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, dripping onto the expensive wool carpet like dark red flowers—outside, there was the sound of police cars, perhaps the policewoman hadn't left yet.

No one knows what little stories Ian wrote in the magic book.

“My appointed time with this child is almost up.” God Jonathan broke the silence first, his gaze fixed on Lucifer, his voice calm yet carrying an undeniable power.

this moment.

Lucifer's paranoia about being persecuted by his father has been triggered again.

The other person's gaze and words made Lucifer's mind spin. It was like being stuffed into a washing machine, with all sorts of absurd thoughts surging through his head.

After a while.

“No… this body of mine is mass-produced, you can’t use it! You have too much light…” He couldn’t help but take a few steps back, his face filled with inexplicable fear.

"Don't look at me like that! We're father and son! Father and son! You can't use my body to sleep with Mom!" Lucifer, startled and with a mind brimming with devilish ideas, finally admitted that he was God's child. The fact that he could get along so well with Ian meant he couldn't be without talent.

"??????"

God Jonathan rolled his eyes, as if looking at a hopeless idiot: "If you don't need your brain, put it in hell and hide it away."

He took a deep breath, as if suppressing some kind of impulse.

"I'm telling you that my agreement with this child to use my body is about to expire, and I won't break my promise. So, I also hope you remember what you promised me."

“Send your mother back, whether to heaven or hell.” God Jonathan’s voice deepened, though not as deep as Batman’s due to his hoarseness. As soon as he finished speaking, Jonathan’s body suddenly glowed with a dazzling white light, then collapsed onto the sofa like a powerless doll.

God was probably so enraged by Lucifer's devilish ideas that he simply logged off.

"You old geezer! You perverted old man!"

Lucifer stood still, staring at the unconscious Jonathan for a moment, then suddenly turned his head sharply, his gaze piercing through layers of dimensions, locking onto a certain camera that was spying on him.

"Don't let me catch you recording the screen just now."

He raised his hand and made a turning motion as if turning a switch.

next moment.

In the Dimensional Gap: Death Studio, a mirror in front of Miss Death suddenly turned into a static screen, and Lucifer's threatening expression vanished instantly.

“Who cares to look at him? When it comes to narcissism, Ian is number one, and Lucifer is always his second best.” Miss Death curled her lip and turned her attention to another mirror that showed Ian.

In the scene, the boy is frantically gnawing on some kind of hard rock, comparable to bedrock in Minecraft, deep underground, muttering things like "a worthy opponent"—her gaze remains fixed on the mirror, watching Ian relentlessly dig at the modified soil and stone like a groundhog.

Just as Miss Death was engrossed in watching, the woman in the white dress, who called herself "Paradox," suddenly spoke.

“If you keep spying on him like this, he’ll have solid proof that you have a crush on him.” The Paradox Lady’s voice was as cold as a wind chime, as if she were reminding Miss Death.

Miss Death was taken aback for a moment, then laughed.

"Oh? It seems you know my little follower quite well." Miss Death's voice was like silk gliding over a blade. She slowly floated away from the mirror, her black skirt moving without wind.

The embodiment of the concept finally looked at the other person, scrutinizing the Paradoxical Lady from head to toe. A few strands of starlight slipped from her hair, turning into fragments of souls the moment they touched the ground.

"You seem a bit special... Time Lord, is there something you need from me?" She suddenly moved closer, her icy breath condensing into frost flowers on her veil.

Miss Death's fingertips, clad in black gauze gloves, lifted the edge of the umbrella, revealing the delicate jawline hidden beneath the white-dressed woman's jewels—where a barely visible golden crack ran.

It looks rather strange.

The umbrella was tilted slightly.

The Paradoxical Lady raised her head, revealing a pair of dazzling golden eyes beneath her veil. Countless fragmented timelines were reflected within them, each seemingly reassembling and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

See this scene.

Miss Death narrowed her eyes slightly, a playful smile curving her lips.

"Indeed, it seems my judgment was still sharp." Her voice was like silk gliding over a blade, carrying a hint of languor and danger. "You are different from other Time Lords."

She floated closer, her black gauze skirt fluttering even without wind, surrounded by countless slumbering souls. Miss Death reached out, her fingertips attempting to gently lift the white-clad woman's chin.

Her cold nails almost pierced the thin veil. However, there was clearly a reason why the other person was using an umbrella indoors; no one in this world genuinely wishes they were short.

Just as Miss Death's fair fingers were about to touch the other person, some kind of barrier appeared, preventing her from actually touching the woman indoors who seemed to be showing off by holding an umbrella.

That's clearly the purpose of that umbrella.

"There are quite a few gadgets, but they're boring."

Miss Death withdrew her finger.

Her voice suddenly lowered, as if whispering, "Tell me, at the end of time, was it me who saw you off, or you who witnessed my demise?"

Miss Death sensed something about the other person, but the other person did not answer the question. The woman in the white dress remained silent for a moment, her expression unchanged beneath the veil.

"If you want to know your fate, you can ask your brother." The Paradox Lady did not answer the Death Lady's question, but simply turned her head slightly to avoid the Death Lady's gaze.

“I’m here for Ian Kent.” She raised her hand, her slender fingertips pointing to a small mirror floating to the side. In the mirror, Ian had already resumed digging.

Because he had already used his intelligence to find another way—all roads lead to Gotham—Master Ian was going to find his most beloved nephew to create an invincible iron crotch. It had to be the kind that could protect against attacks from the Goddess of Creation; only bat-like intelligence could create such a treasure.

"Oh? For my little follower?" Miss Death chuckled, her gaze fixed on the umbrella. Her eyes were thoughtful, as if she could read something from the light swirling between the umbrella ribs.

Throughout, the woman in the white dress held her umbrella steadily overhead, its surface shrouded in obscure runes, as if it contained the most brilliant power of some kind of technological achievement at its end.

"Yes."

next moment.

The woman in the white dress raised her head again, her delicate face partially obscured by the veil.

Her gaze pierced Miss Death like a sharp sword.

“I’m here to have you withdraw your protection of him—Ian Kent is destined to die.” At this moment, the lord’s tone clearly wasn’t one of discussion.

It felt like a forced requirement.

(End of this chapter)