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

Chapter 183 Joker VS Ian! Ian's Rescue!

The ability to identify people by their voices has finally come online.

"It's Joker who can't jungle!"

When it comes to Ian's fanbase, besides Madison, Gotham's Joker is undoubtedly the most prominent. Upon hearing that strange-sounding speech, Ian instinctively uttered a name that was taboo in Gotham.

joker.

That is, the clown.

He is one of the top villains in the DC universe. Compared to another top villain, Darkseid, the Joker may have a lower level of existence, but he possesses a terrifying conceptual ability.

There will always be a Joker in the DC universe. If the old Joker dies, the universe will give birth to a new Joker. That's why no one ever knows the Joker's real name and he doesn't need one.

All people need to know is that he is the Joker, the eternal nightmare of Gotham's Batman. According to Ian, the Joker should be a quantum life form representing an abstract entity in the DC universe.

Don't ask Ian why he likes to use the word "quantum," because he only has a high school education, so of course he believes in the great principle of quantum mechanics when in doubt.

In short, the Joker is a collection of chaos, madness, disorder, evil, and depravity, representing the pure symbol of the inherent evil in human nature. Although he may seem like just a very simple madman, he is intelligent enough to rival Batman, evil enough to tempt Superman to fall, and terrifying enough that nowhere outside Gotham City can contain him.

Even Ian didn't know how to deal with the Joker. Apart from stripping the Joker naked and throwing him into a slum in India, he couldn't think of any legal way to suppress the Joker's arrogance.

How to deal with the Joker?

Ian didn't know.

He doesn't have the time to think about Batman right now.

"Your father looks like he still has about 180 or 190 breaths left."

The clown's voice rang out again.

Ian was immediately shocked—as for why he wasn't shocked, it was mainly because the Joker's words were indeed not an exaggeration; Ian's father was indeed often on the verge of being beaten to death.

Being overly alarmed would make Ian seem hypocritical, while being moderately alarmed would be more in line with his genuine filial piety.

"boom!"

Ian smashed through the alloy door in an instant, still somewhat anxious. Standing outside wasn't some clown with a loudspeaker, but a man in a suit wearing a hood covered in brightly colored stockings.

Layers of stockings—red, green, purple, yellow—formed a twisted, colorful pyramid, almost completely obscuring his face. Through the few gaps, a pair of eyes gleamed with excitement.

He really is a clown.

Those stockings were layered at least a dozen times, each layer covered with exaggerated clown makeup. Heaven knows how many figures the clown spends on foundation alone each month.

Aside from Batman, there's really no one in Gotham who can afford to support the Joker.

“Surprise——!”

Just as Ian kicked open the door, the Joker anticipated the explosion and dodged the metal. He sidestepped and then met the attack with his hands, which were already prepared, and slapped Ian hard across the face.

The powder exploded between the two men.

A system notification sounded in Ian's ear.

[Inhaling a mysterious toxic powder, the Savage Tyrant gains +339 experience points.]

[Inhaling a mysterious toxic powder, the Savage Tyrant gains +321 experience points.]

[Inhaling a mysterious toxic powder, the Savage Tyrant gains +322 experience points.]

……

The clown, who rarely showed any kindness towards humans, planned to scare Ian before inhaling the nitrous oxide powder back into his nostrils. However, he discovered that his nose wasn't as functional as Ian's.

Ian's nose is like a water pump. If the Joker didn't have to breathe through his nose in time, he would feel that all the polluted air he had inhaled into his lungs would be taken away by Ian.

"Huhuhu~"

There really was a wind blowing into Ian's nose, mouth, and even his ears and eyes—Ian's specialty was using all seven orifices.

It's not strange at all.

After all, if blood can flow from all seven orifices, it naturally means that air can be inhaled, which is actually very scientific.

"Batman is nothing compared to this pharmaceutical master! You're the uncrowned king of Gotham's chemistry world!" Ian even used a title of respect. He didn't know how sophisticated the Joker's petty technology was, but he respected this technology, which was even more valuable than super-enhancing drugs. Gotham's true pharmaceutical master was indeed the Medicine God, the Joker!

"what?"

Seeing that Ian's expression didn't seem to indicate infection, and that Ian not only didn't collapse but even showed surprise, the clown was slightly taken aback, even with his cultivation level.

"Damn it! I knew the Ian virus was more potent!" He pounded his head in frustration and lingering fear, then smoothly switched his emotions as he saw Ian staring at his face.

"Want to touch my **? I mean, the one around my neck, the twelve-layered surprise headgear I specially prepared for today, to make it look like a turtle's head."

The Joker must have paid attention to Superman in stockings before, knowing that Ian has a special fondness for stockings, but the ridiculously thick foundation on his head made Ian somewhat reluctant to do it.

Mr. Ian only likes all-natural stockings.

"Well, next time for sure, next time for sure, first tell me where my dad is?" Ian is someone who can clearly distinguish between work and life.

He wouldn't let meeting his fans affect his family's happiness.

"Superman, yes, Superman."

The clown's green eyes rolled.

"Actually, I'm really looking forward to seeing the death of Superman—without your family, you'll definitely focus on writing, right?" He licked his lips, which were painted with a smiley face, and asked with a "reasonable" tone.

Even though the Joker felt he was trying his best to imitate the thinking of ordinary, mundane people.

however.

This reasoning, however, still doesn't quite align with the values ​​of a family-oriented hero.

"Boom!"

Ian's knee struck the Joker squarely in the groin.

"Awwwww——"

The clown instantly curled up like a shrimp, his face under the hood of the stocking turned purplish-red, his eyes rolled back, cold sweat poured down his face, and he covered his genitals with both hands, his voice distorted and confused.

"This is unscientific! How...how can it feel so bad?! It doesn't even hurt this much when I hit myself with a hammer! This isn't just pain...it's awful! It feels like my soul has been defiled!"

The clown started rolling around on the ground.

I desperately need an answer.

He wasn't just being coquettish; he was genuinely in pain.

"Because I know pain can't threaten you, I temporarily mutated you and added some pleasure nerves to your testicles. Now you can experience the satisfaction of being in love when you pee, and the warmth of three generations living together when you poop—unless you tell me where my dad is."

"I can even make your breath smell of justice, and from now on you will be a righteous clown, unable to resist helping old ladies cross the street and helping old men pee every day."

As he spoke, Ian took out the note he had just written.

The text contains his modifications to reality after he "wrote the world with his pen." Although Ian's writing skills are not strong enough, he can only modify reality temporarily. However, this ability is extremely effective on the Joker, who is, after all, just an ordinary person, even though he is a very important figure in the DC universe.

Who isn't of paramount importance?
The cost of influencing the clown is far less than the cost of influencing a powerful life form.

"Oh, Ian, who should be locked up in the dark room, you've learned to be wicked at such a young age, you have a bright future ahead of you!" The clown squeezed his legs together and did a somersault on the ground.

"This matter can't be left unresolved without an extra chapter! I will not yield to a junior like you!" The clown always spoke with a dramatic and exaggerated tone.

His emotional manipulation was excessively exaggerated.

"Then I'll add ten more chapters. Stop talking nonsense. If my dad dies, I'll turn evil and become a villain in Gotham, and I'll eliminate you!" Ian keenly sensed the Ian Virus that the other party had mentioned earlier.

This threat might not be very damaging to the Joker, but it was certainly not insignificant either. Ian stared directly at him and said, "Tell me why I can't find my father on Earth."

While talking to the Joker, Ian was also using his basic skills to multitask, using the black box to scan every area of ​​the entire Earth.

however.

Got nothing.

His black box even detected old guys that were hard to hide, ancient guardians and old gods, and even power fluctuations such as the Crimson of All Beings.

Unfortunately, there was no response from Superman's life force.

Ian was getting really anxious.

His words caused the Joker to clutch his head in despair.

"Oh, damn it, the most effective way to deal with me is to surpass my teacher, to make me forget me, to sweep me into the dust? You're not just vicious, you're ruthless!"

He suddenly pointed to the sky, as if accepting his bet, and said, "Alright, alright! Your dad's on Mars! He's playing a 'who's the real man' game with some dark version of himself~"

As he spoke, the clown commented that Ian's father didn't seem like a real man at the moment. Ian felt like he was spitting out poop, but eager to save his father, he decided to come back later to sew the clown's mouth shut.

After getting some information from the clown, Ian smashed through the dome of the Batcave without saying a word. Debris rained down as his figure broke through the dome and became a streak of light shooting straight into the sky!
"Ian, who should be locked up in the underground dark room, definitely still has some manuscripts left. Spit them out, spit them out."

The clown staggered to the cave entrance.

Looking up at the figure disappearing into the starry sky, he shouted hoarsely, "Hey! Aren't you going to rent a mount?! The latest mount I captured in the wild has twelve wings! It flies faster than light!"

Watching the light spot vanish in an instant, he kicked a piece of gravel away in frustration.

"Damn it! I can't fool you!" Just then, the Joker suddenly seemed to remember something and quickly took out his phone to send a voice message: "Harley! Go and print out the Gotham Gazette for me."

"Tomorrow's front page headline! It must read—'Shocking! Superman's son, with the help of the great Joker, saves his useless father and even more useless accessory Batman!'"

"Make the font bolder with fluorescent powder!"

This was something that offered the Joker some solace. He squatted in the ruins of the Batcave, humming a bootleg Gotham tune, and pulled out a gold-plated, diamond-encrusted shovel to start digging.

[Digging and digging and digging in Gotham's garden~]

Plant the seeds of madness, and you'll see chaotic flowers bloom.

[Water it with the most toxic fertilizer~]

Who's the madman? You? Me? Or him?

This is certainly not the Joker's original song, but Ian's. Just because Batman wouldn't dare install surveillance doesn't mean the Joker wouldn't. He set up a lot of drones outside Ian's Demon Manor.

When Ian was digging up zombies to piece together a perfect body for Dr. Hannibal, the Joker was amazed by Ian's songwriting talent.

now.

He also adapted Ian Smith's song to add a bit of fun to his work. He dug and laughed, dirt flying everywhere, seemingly searching for something in this forgotten corner. Finally, in an inconspicuous spot, his shovel struck the ground where it had been before.

soon.

He dug through the rubble, and the clown carefully brushed away the surrounding clods of earth, revealing the yellowed note.

"I knew there were short stories in there!"

Yes, that's what motivates the clown to work. He picks up the note with his fingers, which are gloved with purple lace, and his green eyes tremble excitedly in the dim light.

The note was covered with dense writing, and Ian couldn't contain his creative talent.

In a gloomy corner of Gotham City, only the Joker's maniacal laughter and chaotic pronouncements once echoed.

But ever since she met Ian, that boy with a gentle smile and a determined light in his eyes, everything has quietly changed.

At first, the Joker scoffed at Ian's "naiveté"—fighting evil with happiness? How ridiculous! The Joker scoffed at it.

When Ian first met him, the Joker was already terminally ill.

All they know is destruction and screaming.

However, everything changed the moment he met Ian. Bathed in Ian's glory, Piedmon Joker broke through the limitation of being a Perfect-level Gotham Baby and could not evolve further. It evolved silently, and in the swirling, unseen data currents, it became an Ultimate-level Digimon.

[This part is crossed out and replaced with the four large characters "Gotham Baby"]

[Without even needing an evolution device, the Joker, one of Gotham's two kings, received a blessing! Under Ian's influence, the Joker unknowingly evolved a happy nervous system on the spot, becoming a... a... a... well, basically a blob of happy clown beast!]

That's all there is to the story.

The following text makes the clown seem a bit unhappy.

The text not only describes the amazing transformation of the happiness nervous system, but also mentions a special gift—the [Ultimate Invincible Super Concentrated Limited Edition Clown Laughing Gas].

According to the note, this nitrous oxide was a gift from the Joker, inspired by a sudden inspiration, specifically for Ian on Christmas Day. Its creation is extremely complex, requiring the collection of the purest toxic gas from deep beneath Gotham City and its refinement through a series of mysterious and ancient alchemical steps.

Legend has it that just one drop of this laughing gas can plunge the entire city's inhabitants into uncontrollable laughter until they exhaust their last ounce of strength. It is not only highly contagious but also has a long-lasting effect; once released, it spreads like a plague, penetrating everywhere.

Even more extravagantly, to ensure the uniqueness of this gift, the Joker specially added pollen from a strange flower that blooms only on the highest peak in Gotham City on the night of the winter solstice each year as a catalyst.

"A mad quantum collected from the tenth dimension!"

"It's a fusion of the Comedian's last words, Batman's nightmares, and Lex Luthor's jealousy! [Batman secretly hid Luthor in a lab further down there, which you discovered yourself.]"

"Eight million 'haha factors' are contained in every cubic centimeter!"

"It's in an antimatter crystal bottle!"

"Even Darkseid would want to tap dance if he smelled it!"

To be honest, after reading Ian's descriptions, the Joker was a little doubtful about life. He didn't think that laughing gas was made like that... nor did he think he could make such laughing gas.

This is not Ian's story.

This is Ian's wish.

"..."

When it comes to Gotham's Joker, very few people can make him speechless. He first crumpled the note into a ball, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, then, finding the taste off, spat it out, smoothed it out in his palm, and finally carefully stuffed it into the breast pocket of his purple suit, patting it to make sure it wouldn't fall out.

No one could explain what the Joker was thinking with those two short actions. He then continued digging through the ruins outside the Batcave, wielding his half-gilded, drill-riddled shovel. Finally, he broke through the buried entrance to the Batcave and crawled inside like a mole emerging from a burrow.

Ah~ Sweet Home!

The clown looked around and spoke shyly.

The Batcave remained cold and damp, filled with Bruce Wayne's quirky aesthetic of "I'm rich but I like living in the basement." The control panel screen still flashed a paper cutout of Injustice Superman and played the phrase "Miss me?" on a loop.

The clown ignored him.

He walked straight to the locker, pulled out buckets of colored paint, and acted as if he were at home. The Joker grinned, prepared various spray paints and pigments, and began frantically graffitiing the walls, floors, and even Batman's bed and blankets.

His theme was very clear.

This is the 18+ fanfiction of "Batman's Tragic Love Story"—"Batman, Hit Me Ten Thousand Times Again," a 98+ fan comic full of artistic flair.

It's not advisable to look at anything that might offend your eyes before you're lying in your coffin.

"Hehehe—!" He laughed wildly, wielding his brush like rain, the strokes creating a whirlwind. Batman and his own poses became increasingly outrageous, the plot becoming more and more indescribable.

Batman's cape was torn into the Joker's suspenders, his belt slacked, his muscles contorted in a servile manner. The Joker's drawing was masterful, incredibly realistic, and many Robins watched from the sidelines. His laughter echoed through the cave, still manic, but now tinged with a sense of triumphant satisfaction.

Just then, a slight noise came from the cave entrance. It was the familiar footsteps that the clown could recognize without turning around—light, bouncy footsteps accompanied by the crisp sound of high heels clicking on the ground.

"Is the newspaper matter settled?" the clown asked without turning his head.

“Of course it’s done. I only took ten minutes. Now it’s yours.” Harley Quinn climbed in, wearing her signature red and blue clown costume.

This female Joker wields two pistols and has a slightly mischievous look in her eyes.

"very good."

The clown still didn't turn around.

He continued drawing "bondage play" scenes on the Batman suit collection cabinet.

"Huh? Where's that boy?" Harley Quinn first admired the artwork covering the wall, then looked around, trying to find the artist who had recently "bewitched" the Joker.

Of course, she couldn't find Ian.

She and the clown were the only ones in the entire Batcave.

"Oh, Ian Kent, he went to rescue his crybaby dad," the Joker replied casually, his spray paint still on, adding 108 shiny abs to the comic book Batman.

Clearly, the Joker, as the number one fan, has updated the Bat-Family image to the latest version, which is the fully muscular version that Thomas Wayne had in Ian's movie.

"You actually let him go to save Superman?" Harley blinked, somewhat surprised. "I... I thought you were here to enjoy his suffering and lead him into darkness."

Hear the words.

The clown's spray paint suddenly stopped.

“You mean ‘get out of the darkness,’ right?” he said softly, as if talking to himself. “I’m sorry… I’m a little powerless. I feel… he just wants to stay in the darkness.”

Harley was completely stunned. This wasn't the Joker she knew. The Chaos King, who took pleasure in destroying hope and glorified leading others to depravity, was now showing... hesitation?
She stared at him, trying to find the familiar madness, the twistedness, or even that chilling pleasure in his expression, but the Joker was calm to the point of being unfamiliar.

“Puddin…” Harley Quinn hesitated for a moment, but couldn’t help asking the question that had been bothering her. She felt that the Joker looked different from the Joker she knew.

"What happened to you!"

This is an expression of concern.

The artist, Clown, did not answer immediately. Instead, he put down the spray paint can and tapped his chin lightly with his paint-covered fingers, as if he were pondering a philosophical question.

“Harley,” he spoke suddenly, his voice low and calm, “what style do you think I am?”

Harley was stumped.

She hesitated, trying to answer by referring to the public's perception of the clown.

“Uh… madness? chaos? enjoying watching others break down? creating art from pain?” She counted on her fingers, “like… driving good people crazy, making heroes fall, making the world like you… happiness? Give him hope first, then crush it with your own hands, make him understand that the world has no meaning, and then he will completely belong to you.”

Harley Quinn hesitated for a moment before saying those words, but she spoke sincerely and shared her understanding of the Joker, which was indeed quite insightful.

of course.

It's only a few points.

Harley Quinn, as one of the Joker's most outstanding creations, is still someone whose understanding of the Joker can only be achieved through speculation. The Joker listened quietly, a slight smile playing on his lips, but his eyes grew increasingly unfathomable.

"interesting."

He spoke softly, then picked up his paintbrush, dipped it in paint, and slowly walked towards Harley.

Harley didn't flinch, but simply watched him curiously. The Joker stood before her, gently applying paint to her cheeks, altering her original clown makeup. His movements were light, as if he were completing a delicate painting.

“That won’t happen, Harley,” he said softly, his voice unusually gentle, as he lightly smeared paint on Harley Quinn’s pale cheek, transforming her into a more clown-like, gaping grin that pleased him even more. “You’re very talented… but that’s all.”

Harley was stunned.

“You won’t believe it, Batman won’t believe it, nobody will believe it…” the Joker continued, his paintbrush lightly tracing lines at the corner of her eye, “but I can see it…”

His face drew closer and closer, his breath brushing against Harley's face.

Harley's heart suddenly raced, and she asked in a low voice.

"What do you see?"

Harley's heart raced, thinking he was going to kiss her—but the Joker's lips didn't fall. He simply whispered in her ear, almost inaudibly.

“I saw it… the Ian virus is a real reality.” He uttered those words in a voice as soft as a mosquito’s buzz, the same words Harley Quinn had been hearing repeatedly from the Joker recently.

Ian virus.

Harley's pupils suddenly contracted.

original.

Harley Quinn had always thought it was just the Joker's banter, but when she heard the Joker's voice, as if he was afraid someone would hear, she instinctively wanted to ask more questions.

only.

The clown's hand touched the woman's lips first.

"Hehehehe~"

The clown had no intention or desire to explain. He took a step back, his maniacal smile returning to his face, as if the whispers from before had never happened.

They started graffitiing on the walls again.

……

In the vast universe.

Ian Kent broke through the atmosphere.

He reached out and summoned two dark, biologically armed figures. Ian's legs were bound with Speed ​​Force external legs, and red arcs of electricity crackled and exploded in the vacuum.

That was a gift he had obtained through his own efforts from Barry Allen's Speed ​​Force wife, and now he had forcibly bound it to the mimicry armor, turning it into a speed booster once again.

"start up!"

In the next instant, he transformed into a superluminal meteor that pierced through the galaxy, space distorted in front of him, time stretched behind him, and stardust exploded like fireworks.

His figure was like a streak of light tearing through the galaxy, leaving a long trail of energy behind him. He was as fast as the Flash, and the meteorite belts he passed through were pulverized by the shockwave.

"Dad, please don't die... If you die, I don't dare to go to Heaven to rescue people for the time being. I can only take Mom and remarry Uncle Clark from the parallel universe next to us."

"I cannot protect my father's love, but I can protect my mother's devotion, so that I will not betray my reputation as a filial son."

Ian muttered to himself, not because he was a truly filial son, but because he believed that if his mutterings could be heard by his father, they would ignite his father's boundless fighting spirit.

Even if things don't go well, he can at least hold on a little longer. In the pitch-black universe, stars are like dust, and Ian's target—Mars—has now transformed into a dark red disc in his field of vision.

The rust-red surface of Mars is already clearly visible, however—near Mars' orbit, a sudden change occurs. Deep in the starry sky, countless points of light emerge.

Those weren't alien fireflies, but rather familiar figures to Ian.

Cloned Superman.

Thousands upon thousands, like a swarm of locusts covering the sky. They wore identical black battle suits, their eyes empty and lifeless, their faces stiff, devoid of soul, only cold commands.

Annihilate the Justice League members who came to the rescue.

"Go back! Await the outcome of the sacred duel!"

It was the voice of Injustice Superman, even less human than when they last met. His words echoed in Ian's ears, and all the clone Supermen gathered around Ian.

These clones floated in the cosmos, their muscles perfectly sculpted like those of mass-produced killing machines. The incomplete "S" mark on their chests resembled scars from violent rigging.

"Get the hell out of here, you idiots, technology and ruthless skills!"

Ian did not slow down; instead, he accelerated and charged into the army of clones.

In an instant.

He ignited his own blood.

Its entire body was engulfed in pitch-black flames.

【Pulse of Incineration: For every 1% of your blood ignited, your attacks deal annihilation damage equal to your maximum health. When stacked to 100, you can choose to unleash "Final Blast".

Deals damage equal to 200% of your lost health to all enemies within range—your burning blood is the abyss of all things, the prelude to your eternal doomsday.

Flames inflicting annihilation damage ignited from Ian's fist, and ripples of iridescent black energy spread outwards. The nearest clone had just raised its arm when Ian's fist pierced its skull—the instant the first drop of blood boiled in its veins, Ian's fist had already pierced the skull of the nearest clone.

The power was indeed immense; what gushed from between the fingers was not blood, but pitch-black annihilation fire. The brains of the Kryptonian replica were burned into nothingness before they could even splatter.

It wasn't shattering, but annihilation. The head, along with the part above the neck, instantly vanished into nothingness, as if it had never existed. A black "Annihilation Mark" appeared on Ian's back. Beneath his skin, black veins spread like living snakes, and with each heartbeat, a wisp of annihilation power was pumped out.

"boom!"

The second clone had sunken temples and black flames emanating from cracks in its skull.

[Annihilation layer +1]

Ian's figure turned into a bloody afterimage amidst the frenzy of cloned Superman.

Each punch aimed precisely at the top of the head.

The third clone tried to intercept him with his heat vision, but he punched it into its eye socket—as the eyeball burst open inside the skull, jet-black flames spewed out from its seven orifices.

"Too slow! Worse than a degraded version of a superhero from the zombie universe!" He spun around and kicked the fourth clone's jaw, then grabbed the fifth's head and slammed it into his knee.

"Even with sheer numbers, they shouldn't be able to defeat my old man!"

One after another.

With each punch, a clone vanished completely, and the black mark on Ian's back intensified. His fists were no longer flesh and blood, but two hammers of annihilation. Each swing tore through space, leaving black cracks. Clones fell like straws, yet they pressed on relentlessly, fearless of death.

Each time Ian kills a clone, the stack of [World-Burning Pulse] increases by one.

[Annihilation layer +17]

Tens of thousands of clones rose from the Martian surface, their black cloaks forming a curtain that blotted out the sky. The black flames ignited by Ian's fists left scorch marks in the vacuum of space.

His blood was burning, his life was slipping away, but for every 1% of his life lost, his attacks gained an additional layer of annihilation power, and the Berserker's [Reverse Blood Furnace] power was also being triggered.

The weaker one is.

The stronger it is.

This is definitely not as simple as 1+1=2.

Cracks began to appear on Ian's body, and black energy seeped from the gaps in his skin, but he paid no heed. Pain? That was just the temperature of the fuel.

Their strength and momentum are both rising explosively.

A clone attacked him from behind, punching him in the spine.

Berserker Experience +13

Ian's spine was attacked, triggering an upgrade mechanism, but unfortunately it didn't break, so he didn't gain much experience. However, with the help of his self-healing ability, he regained his mobility in the blink of an eye.

[Wrath of the Undead: When you take any form of damage, you recover 1% of your maximum health per second, healing all injuries, including fatal ones.]

The more severe the injury, the faster the recovery. When your health drops below 10%, you will receive a brief resurrection, a blissful rebirth that will last until all your energy is depleted.

Death? That has always been a luxury for you.

None of these were instantly fatal injuries, and Ian didn't need to care at all. He didn't even trigger the instantaneous repair of his phoenix rebirth, and continued to break through towards Mars.

Without turning his head, Ian grabbed the other's head and twisted it sharply—the clone's head, which had been attacked in the spine and was now trying to attack the kidneys, instantly turned to ashes and scattered.

"Crack!"

When the ninety-ninth head was crushed in his palm, Ian's skin was already covered with spiderweb-like black lines. His blood vessels throbbed violently beneath his skin, and each heartbeat sent tremors through the clones within a kilometer radius.

A clone attempted to ambush Ian with a green kryptonite weapon. Ian neither dodged nor avoided it, letting the green light shatter on his chest. He then grabbed a handful of fragments and stuffed them into the attacker's mouth.

He is a Kryptonian second-generation idealist.

It is reasonable that they have "overcome" their fear and weakness towards kryptonite.

[Annihilation layer +1]

Just as the last layer of annihilation was being collected, Ian suddenly froze. The prelude to the eternal apocalypse descended, and in an instant, the 100 layers of annihilation power accumulated within him, along with 99% of his burning blood, erupted! Centered on Ian, a ring of black pulsating ripples silently spread out.

That wasn't an explosion.

Rather, it was an annihilating eruption.

All the clones froze simultaneously, their empty eye sockets reflecting a horrifying scene—the blood-soaked figure slowly opening its arms and releasing an incredibly terrifying pulse.

"The End—"

My blood is boiling at this moment.

The instant his blood vessels burst, billions of black pulses erupted from Ian's body. It wasn't light, but a tangible manifestation of "non-existence," an abyss etched even into the vacuum.

"Explosion!!!"

A black torrent swept across the entire star field.

It spanned all the clones across a vast expanse of starry sky.

"boom--!!!"

The entire orbit of Mars seemed to be gripped and crushed by an invisible giant hand.

Sunlight and starlight were being devoured, and the clone army melted away like an avalanche. The scene was as if the universe itself was being ignited and burned to ashes by Ian's blood.

A torrent swept across the sea of ​​stars.

When the black tide receded, the starry sky was as clean as a pencil drawing erased by an eraser.

The few remaining clones hovered at a safe distance, their biological instincts screaming alarm bells—only to see Ian reassemble his body from nothingness, his burning pupils locking onto his final target.

"Now."

Black ripples spread out beneath his feet.

"The trash has been cleaned up."

Ian swooped down toward Mars. The remaining clones, unafraid of death, tried to stop him, but Ian pulled out the Spear of Eternity and pierced them into living kebabs.

"These inferior clones can only fight Wonder Woman, so is it Injustice Superman leading them back to try and take my father's place again?"

"Did this guy go to another universe to level up and come back to fight another boss? And he succeeded on the first try?" Ian, filled with worry, swooped down into the Martian atmosphere.

His right fist, brimming with the residual power of the world-burning pulse, suddenly crashed into an invisible barrier just as he was about to break through.

"boom--!"

Golden and black energy ripples exploded in the void, and he was sent flying backward like a baseball hit by a bat, crashing through more than a dozen floating clone wreckage before barely managing to regain his footing.

"What the hell?"

Ian shook his numb arm and scanned the entire planet. The visual feedback made his pupils shrink sharply—Mars was surrounded by layers of something that looked like chains.

It's like magic.

There are also some differences.

Those invisible and intangible chains pulsated like blood vessels, and each contraction caused a slight collapse in space, as if the entire Mars was locked up, preventing any life from entering.

"Damn it! What the hell is this?!"

Ian tried three more times.

None of them succeeded.

Even the trump card, [Writing the World with a Pen], is difficult to use—this is a manifestation of insufficient pen power, which prevents the modification of reality, even with the amplification of the magic book.

Just as Ian was covered in sweat.

"Meaningless."

The voice of Injustice Superman suddenly rang out. The voice sounded like a blend of more than a dozen vocal tones, possessing both Clark's rich tone and a kind of inhuman electronic noise.

In addition, other unusual sounds appeared on Phobos. On the first moon of Mars, in the shadow of Phobos, a familiar metallic scraping sound suddenly came from.

"Click...clunk..."

That was the sound of the joints of the Hellbat armor turning.

Ian certainly wouldn't be unfamiliar with the armor he helped create.

"Hmm? The battlefield is over there?"

Ian turned his head sharply, his gaze piercing through the dust, and met a pair of scarlet eyes.

Unjust Superman.

This corrupted version of himself floated silently on the surface of Phobos, his black cloak writhing like a living thing, his exposed skin covered in demonic runes, each line shimmering with a faint light like the whispers of an evil god.

Beneath his boots—the figure was struggling.

“Uh… lift your foot? You’re blocking my eye contact with my Uncle Batman.” Ian floated closer and pointed to his feet, where the corrupted Superman was standing on one foot with Batman’s head. The mask of the Hell Armor was mostly shattered, Bruce’s chin was crushed into the rock by his boots, and his only intact left hand was still stubbornly digging at the magic mark on Injustice Superman’s ankle.

Batman is unkempt.

Instead, he tried to shave Injustice Superman's legs with a nanoblade?
Ian thought he had probably been beaten so badly his brain was damaged.

Unmoved by Ian's request, Injustice Superman remained unmoved, while Batman, whose mouth was deformed from being stepped on, managed to squeeze out a few electronic voices, "Don't worry about me!"

"Go find your father! He's with..." Before Batman could finish speaking, Injustice stepped on his mouth, and every time he opened his mouth, he would lick the sole of Injustice's shoe.

"okay!"

Ian turned and flew away.

The roar of the Hell Armor overload came from behind.

"You fucking... at least hesitate for a second..." Bruce thought through gritted teeth as he continued to try to scrape off the runes on Injustice Superman's legs.

Yes.

It's not about shaving leg hair.

It's about scraping those strange runes.

This is how Yi sees the misunderstanding of the human base.

"Leave."

Injustice Superman's words were concise and clear. Seeing Ian about to fly away, he immediately raised his head and released a heat beam to intercept him, its force incredibly strong. Two beams of heat, more intense than the core of the sun, pierced through the air, their trajectories as unpredictable as venomous snakes controlled by an invisible hand, tracing cunning arcs straight towards Ian's back!

"Holy crap?! Thermal imaging with automatic tracking? Cornering assist? Adaptive cruise control? This 360-degree turn—damn it! Is there no science here?!" Ian braked suddenly in mid-air, tumbling sideways in a sorry state. Rays grazed his cloak, burning two charred spacetime folds in the vacuum.

"You fucking cheated too! You cheater!"

Ian was furious.

Injustice Superman didn't answer; the demonic runes writhed beneath his skin, pumping more energy into his eyes like living things. The next wave of heat vision split into dozens of beams.

Like a crimson net, it enveloped Ian!
"It's endless, right?"

Ian was completely enraged. The black flames of the Burning World pulsed from his fist, shattering the oncoming beam net with a single punch. The undiminished force of the punch slammed into Injustice Superman's face, twisting his cold expression into a distorted shape.

"boom!"

Two superhuman-like objects crashed into the rock formations of Phobos like cannonballs. In the dust cloud stirred up by the shockwave, two figures could be seen fighting each other at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye.

"Destroy those runes on this man, those are shackles that suppress emotions!" Batman seized the opportunity to climb into the distance, ignoring the prompt in his ear that praising Ian would save him.

He's also a stubborn person.

Ian was about to take action.

"Damn it!"

It is said that the emotionless Unjust Superman suddenly developed some emotions.

And at that very moment.

The entire solar system seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second.

then--

“Boom, boom, boom!!!”

Mars exploded.

The crimson surface of Mars exploded without warning! An indescribable, terrifying energy erupted from the planet's core, causing the entire planet to shatter like glass, expand, and then—explode with a deafening roar!

A nebula formed from dust and fire instantly swept across the entire orbit.

It seemed to affect the entire Milky Way galaxy.

In the heart of that destruction.

Two golden figures appeared and disappeared.

"Idealistic Superman vs. Idealistic Superman!"

Ian's eyes were almost blinded by the light, but that didn't stop him from letting out a gasp.

(End of this chapter)