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

Chapter 186 A Six-Dimensional God? Doraemon!
The deep space of the universe is boundless and deathly silent, with galaxies like an endless river paved with shattered diamonds, slowly rotating. Against this vast backdrop, a piece of floating planetary debris floats silently, like a tombstone left behind by an ancient war.

Its surface was covered with cracks, and lava flowed like blood between the fissures, reflecting an eerie red light. Injustice Superman lay on this broken land, his chest heaving violently, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead like rain, each drop carrying a faint arc of electricity that evaporated into fine mist in the vacuum.

"Bear with it. If you can't hold it in, just pretend you can, and then you'll be able to," Ian said, offering his medical advice.

He didn't have his own white coat.

This was a loss to Earth's medical system, at least in his view, so he took out a white sheet that was originally intended for the enemy and those who had died tragically and draped it over himself.

He manually acted as a tailor twice, and he looked quite professional.

Ian's fingers lightly traced the edge of Injustice Superman's abdomen, the metallic touch sending a shiver down his spine. Kryptonian skin, though seemingly impossible to replicate, was no match for Lord Ian.

The blade of the Black Death Sword gleamed with a powerful black light in Ian's hand. He slit open Injustice Superman's festering abdominal cavity with the precision of an anatomist, and the edges of the wound, caused by the radiation of golden particles, shimmered with tiny golden light.

A thin, long incision silently split open, revealing the deep cavity within. His gaze was focused, like a surgeon examining precision instruments, or a gardener surveying the land about to be planted. As the sword tip pierced the last layer of peritoneum, Ian couldn't help but marvel at the ergonomic design of the Kryptonians.

The Kryptonians' body structure, even their fat layer, looks so standard.

“Look at this perfect cavity, big enough to be a cradle for twelve babies.” His fingertip poked into the gap below the Kryptonian’s diaphragm, the sticky sensation reminding him of the Play-Doh he played with as a child.

Injustice Superman's mutilated fingers twitched, the ten finger bones—broken and hastily reattached by Ian himself—scratching against the metal surface of the operating table with an unusually grating sound. Don't ask where Ian got an operating table in the vacuum of space; the legacy armor left by Uncle Batman is a metal operating table!

"You're doing..."

Injustice Superman squeezed out a few syllables from his broken vocal cords.

He hasn't finished speaking yet.

Ian pressed his blood-stained fingers against Injustice Superman's cracked lips.

"Is the anesthesia wearing off again? I didn't expect him to be so resistant to anesthesia." Ian used his Kryptonite Hammer to give Injustice a solid dose of anesthesia.

Injustice Superman once again fell into a baby-like sleep. Then, Ian pulled a linen bag from his dimensional pocket with his other hand. The moment the bag was untied, a large number of treasures collected from his own factory, along with many pearly feathers, drifted out, shining with a divine luster in the vacuum of space filled with radioactive dust.

"Do you know why he was controlled by the Bat of Laughter? Because he lacked family ties." Ian didn't know who he was explaining to, but thankfully no one was watching or commenting on his worsening condition.

Like a real doctor, Ian examined Injustice Superman's abdominal cavity, probing with his fingertips to feel the space already clogged with many organs.

Ian resisted the urge to think that "Kryptonian kidneys can fetch a good price, and rich people will definitely believe they are highly nutritious," and continued to explore and search for things like "large intestine wrapped in small intestine."

Finally, he found a suitable spot for the implant.

"This is it!" Ian exclaimed with delight.

He began using the feathers of angels to help Injustice Superman build a nest inside his abdomen, firmly believing that the nest built from angel feathers would surely hatch the twelve best-benefiting twins.

Ian's movements were gentle yet firm, like weaving an invisible sacred garment. He intertwined the feathers, forming a spiraling, ascending nest structure, each feather precisely embedded and resonating with the others, creating a miniature, luminous cradle of life. This nest was not flesh and blood, but a spiritual vessel constructed of magic and sacred objects.

As the feathers fill the nest, it gradually takes shape.

Ian hummed a lullaby as he carefully placed the feather nest in the cavity between the Kryptonian's liver and spleen. As the last feather touched the peritoneum, the entire nest suddenly emitted a soft, holy light, illuminating the cosmic dust floating above the operating table. It hovered in the center of the abdominal cavity like a miniature nebula, radiating a soft, ever-changing halo of color.

Red like the rising sun, blue like the tranquility of the deep sea, gold like the radiance of faith, green like the tender shoots of new life... These twelve colors symbolize twelve possible virtues: courage, compassion, wisdom, perseverance, humility, honesty, tolerance, hope, temperance, justice, loyalty, and benevolence.

As Ian's miraculous healing skills were completed, the nest closed completely, like a cosmic egg in the womb. Given the Kryptonians' constitution, there would certainly be no shortage of nutrition for the developing offspring. Ian began stitching up the energy-supplying blood vessels, a task that posed no challenge for him either.

Although Kryptonians don't have many extra blood vessels in their bodies, Ian had studied history and knew that there weren't many canals in the world to begin with, but many canals were created by the hard work and perseverance of many people.

and so.

He pulled on several poisonous PET plastic tubes and began draining blood from Injustice Superman's liver, regardless of whether it was blood or not, to provide eighteen nutrient channels for the nest built of angel feathers.

There's nothing wrong with that.

Science has advanced to this point; it would be truly inappropriate for Ian not to use it.

"Twelve children, no more, no less. Too few, and society cannot be formed; too many, and conflict is likely to arise. Twelve is a perfect number, the cycle of the constellations, and the balance between judgment and redemption."

When it comes to telling stories about brands, companies, and products, big capitalists can readily come up with tales, finding a very suitable meaning for the numbers they choose.

Of course, that's the official story. In reality, Ian was quite superstitious. He just thought that twelve people could complete the Color Bond with Injustice Superman.

Those who played the Golden Spatula Battle before transmigrating know that colored bonds are much stronger than ordinary bonds, and Ian believes that he can definitely bring Injustice Superman back to the right path.

Because Ian was rather careless, blood suddenly seeped from Injustice's abdominal cavity. Ian frowned and quickly stuffed two wads of sterilized sanitary napkins into the cavity to stop the bleeding.

He actually wanted to use marshmallows, which were at least somewhat similar to medical cotton, but since they were food that would melt, their hemostatic effect was not as good as Ian's hemostatic wonder.

"Surgery must be done quickly!"

Ian held the fishing line for the fish.

A pinch of the fingertip.

The thread end automatically passed through the hole of the Edelman alloy staple.

This metal comes from one of the hardest alloys in the universe and is usually used to forge Wolverine's claws, but today, it will become a stitch in Injustice Superman's abdomen.

With a "snap," Ian stapled shut Injustice Superman's torn abs. The staple made a crisp metallic clanging sound as it pierced the Kryptonian's skin.

Fortunately, only Kryptonians' hearing can detect the echoes in the universe.

Injustice Superman lay supine on the operating table, his eyelids beginning to flutter. He realized that his stomach had been ripped open, but he was unaware that Lord Ian had bestowed upon him the Color Bond.

This also allows Injustice to become a righteous superhero, increasing its global recognition. It's like Ian McKellen was willing to sacrifice his own interests to make Injustice a win-win situation as compensation for accidentally harming the other party.

"what did you do to me?"

Even Injustice Superman's eyelids were still difficult to open.

The main problem is severe swelling.

"Don't worry, the Adamantium alloy won't rust, nor will it be corroded by your stomach acid." Ian tugged at the fishing line to make sure the seam was secure enough.

With the final stitch, Injustice's abdomen finally closed again, leaving only a faint suture mark. Ian took two steps back, tilted his head to examine it for a moment, and suddenly pulled a small can of paint from his pocket.

“Almost forgot, I need to make you look presentable.” He dipped a little flesh-colored paint and gently applied it to the stitches. The paint instantly blended with the Kryptonian’s skin, and in the blink of an eye, the gruesome wound “disappeared”—at least from a distance, it looked completely normal.

Seeing that he also had the talent of a painter.

Ian also helped the other person cover all their burned skin with a normal color, free of charge.

[Illegal Medical Practice Log, Entry 207 - Experiments Prove I'm a Medical Genius...] Writing a diary is Ian's habit, and so is leaving evidence of his illegal activities.

Who isn't a wicked god who loves writing in his diary?

"What exactly did you do to me?"

Injustice Superman groggily raised his hand, his veined fingers gripping Ian's wrist tightly. His pupils contracted sharply, and his voice was hoarse, as if squeezed from the depths of hell.

He initially thought Ian was like those mad scientists, cutting into his flesh for experiments. Perhaps he wanted to study Kryptonian genes or extract his DNA for other purposes.

however.

Ian's answer made his blood freeze instantly.

"Don't worry, the surgery was perfect! The embryo is also very well-nourished! In fact, it's almost too well-nourished!" Ian brushed the Kryptonian blood off his gloves.

While reassuring the other person, he began to disinfect himself with alcohol.

After all, nobody knows if Injustice Superman has Kryptonian viruses in his blood. Being careful is the standard for unlicensed medical practitioners when traveling. America's medical insurance certainly won't cover such medical malpractice.

"Embryo?! What embryo?!" Injustice Superman's voice suddenly rose as he struggled to sit up, only to feel a strange wriggling sensation in his abdomen.

The feeling was like something gently kicking inside his body. Injustice Superman's face turned deathly pale, and his fingers unconsciously went to his flat stomach. Reason told him there couldn't be any life there, but the Kryptonian's keen senses picked up twelve faint heartbeats.

Those heartbeats intertwined, like a lullaby.

"!!!!???????"

At this moment, Injustice was terrified and dared not think about what Ian had done. He only realized what it would feel like to be Ian's enemy.

Fine beads of sweat trickled down Injustice Superman's forehead, and cold sweat slid down his temples, washing away the camouflage paint Ian had smeared on his abdomen, leaving a murky trail.

“Sigh, the paint isn’t dry yet, the patient needs to rest.” Ian sighed, as if facing a disobedient child. He pulled a syringe from his pocket, the syringe containing 200 milligrams of clear liquid—theoretically just ordinary saline solution, but with finely dissolved kryptonite powder.

An eerie green glow shone in Ian's eyes.

Injustice didn't even have time to struggle. The moment the needle pierced the vein in his neck, the radiation from the kryptonite flowed through his bloodstream, his muscles instantly relaxed, his pupils dilated, and his last vestige of consciousness was swallowed by darkness. His head tilted limply to one side, and his breathing became long and steady—more peaceful than a baby's sleep.

Of course, it was even deeper than the eternal sleep of the dead. Ian felt he had been kind and forgiving enough towards this otherworldly superhuman who had once harmed his family.

The villain gets a new face.

With him, there is no opportunity to abandon evil and embrace good.

“Great, I believe that with a child, this guy will definitely not have time to wreak havoc on my universe... I mean the universe that all of us in this universe share.”

Ian nodded in satisfaction and casually tossed the empty syringe into the void. The reason he changed his tune so quickly was mainly because he was afraid his father's super hearing would misunderstand his magnanimity.

Seeing that Injustice Superman had stopped moving, Ian's gaze returned to the black box. On the display screen, the battle was completely out of control. His father and Golden Superman were still on Apokolips.

Darkseid was caught in a pincer movement and fell into his most prized arsenal of Omega weapons.

This shouldn't have happened.

But the two Golden Supermen's idealistic powers were too irrational; their beliefs even distorted the laws of reality, causing this Dark Lord to experience frustration for the first time. Could he accept this?

Of course I can't accept that.

The enraged Darkseid rose from the ruins, the Omega Rays in his eyes no longer a common scarlet, but a deeper, more primal crimson. The striking red visual effect of Darkseid unleashing the Omega Rays was incredibly impactful, echoing not only his overall dark, evil, and oppressive image, but also symbolizing the power's strength, danger, and destructive potential.

A surge of power coursed through Darkseid, as if his true form, the real god who sat high above the endless dimensions, was unleashing his might through his projection in the real world.

Even though Darkseid may not yet realize how powerful his origins are, that's how it is for beings with profound backgrounds—even if they are unaware of their backgrounds, they will still unleash them when the time is right.

"You... are looking for death!"

His voice was no longer a single sound wave, but a declaration of destruction reverberating simultaneously from countless dimensions. The next instant, this unleashed Dark Lord appeared before the two Supermen.

His transformation.

It's as if it's silently expressing that these days, who doesn't understand such grand, idealistic principles?
Darkseid's hands had already gripped the heads of the two golden Supermen, and the brute force carried them through the spatial barrier, crushing stars along the way and soaring into the starry sky.

The first impact shattered the spiral arms of the Andromeda Galaxy. Hundreds of stars were extinguished by the sheer kinetic energy, and the nebula was torn into tattered ribbons.

The shockwave swept across thousands of light-years, shattering planets like glass beads, forcibly distorting gravitational fields, tearing apart the event horizon of black holes, and reducing civilization to ashes in an instant.

The visual impact is enormous.

Nebulae were churned into vortexes, and star clusters collapsed like sandcastles. Wherever their trajectories passed, galaxies shattered like mirrors struck by a giant hammer.

Countless spaces, measured in light-years, are riddled with cracks.

However, this was far less impactful than his second impact, in which he carried a Superman in one hand. The second impact pierced directly through the quantum foam layer. Yes, it truly shattered the quantum structure; it wasn't Ian McKellen using AI narration to unlock it. The reality structure shattered like glass, and chaotic energy erupted from the dimensional gaps.

This energy directly devoured three pocket universes. Darkseid was not satisfied; he roared and bombarded the dimensional barrier with Omega rays, forcefully breaking through the gap between reality and nothingness.

"Die, you hope of ants!" Darkseid roared, his arms flailing, and he and two Supermen transformed into a streak of destructive light, rushing into an unknowable land deeper than darkness.

They traversed the "Sea of ​​Void"—a deathly realm devoid of matter and energy, containing only pure entropy; they skimmed across the "Abyss of Time," countless images of the past and future flashing around them like shattered film reels; they even crashed into the "Conceptual Realm."

There, rules are made of thought, logic is the weapon, and Darkseid's will is the most powerful violence. Finally, they reached their destination—the light of the two golden superheroes dimmed slightly under such a violent impact, but their bodies remained intact; the power of their minds made them immune to physical harm.

however.

On this battlefield, deliberately guided by Darkseid, a more insidious form of weakening is taking effect.

Darkseid eventually came to a stop.

They stopped in a "land of no light," existing outside of known dimensions. Here, there was no sun, no stars, no photons, no heat, no flow of time, not even the concept of "existence." Darkness was absolute, silence was eternal. Air, if it could still be called "air."

It solidifies like lead.

The direction of gravity is chaotic and distorted.

Clearly, this is a deliberately crafted "dark realm," where even the concept of hope cannot take root. The embodiment of despair is the graveyard of hope.

"Damn... how did he suddenly become so strong?"

"I do not know either!"

Two golden superheroes floated in the void, their radiance—the brilliant energy symbolizing faith and ideals—slowly being eroded by the environment. Though unharmed, their power was waning, like torches cast into the deep sea; the flames hadn't died out, but they could no longer illuminate the distance.

"What do you know? You're just bigger ants!"

Darkseid slammed the two Supermen hard into this void "ground"—a platform made of solidified darkness—and the two Supermen's bodies immediately sank into it.

It's like an ordinary person getting stuck in asphalt, finding it hard to struggle.

“Your light will be extinguished here. The sun in your hearts will be crushed by my own hands.”

Darkseid stomped heavily on the chests of the two Supermen, the shadow of the Dark Lord looming over them. Omega rays were brewing in his eye sockets, no longer just simple beams of destruction, but something far more terrifying. He was like a god standing on an altar, his eyes slowly gathering a dangerous gleam.

"Let me see what you will have left after the sun in your hearts is extinguished." The ray slowly took shape, not attacking the body, but pointing directly at the soul.

It sought to destroy "hope" itself, the core belief that made Superman Superman. The light grew brighter and colder, as if trying to erase all warmth from Superman's heart.

"Damn it! I feel like my mind is going to freeze!"

"What the hell is this place?"

The two golden superheroes were firmly trampled under Darkseid's feet, their bodies sinking into the void of darkness, like two golden thumbtacks nailed to the canvas of the universe.

Ian's father and his former rivals can only struggle now.

They braced themselves with their arms, trying to overthrow the Dark Lord's oppression, but this world without light was eroding their power—the Supermen's light flickered weaker with each flash.

Darkseid's eyes had accumulated to their limit of Omega rays, and the scarlet light surged in his eye sockets, as dazzling as two cosmic singularities about to explode.

"Your light... will eventually be extinguished." His voice did not come from his throat, but from the echo seeping from the cracks in the universe, like billions of silent stars whispering at the same time.

The two golden superheroes gritted their teeth, their pupils blazing with intense light—heat vision! They attempted to retaliate with their last bit of energy, two golden-red beams of light bursting from their eyes.

The Omega ray crashed violently into Darkseid!

"boom--!!!"

Three destructive energies collided in the void, the shockwaves even distorting the surrounding darkness for a moment. But soon, the scales of victory began to tip—the golden superheroes' radiance diminished, their heat vision seemed to be swallowed by some invisible force, pushed back little by little, suppressed bit by bit.

Fighting two opponents, Darkseid, who was beginning to gain the upper hand, curled a sinister smile. He had brought two people here, knowing full well that even if he unleashed his full power, he couldn't kill the two burning, idealistic suns.

now.

Using the unique characteristics of this dimension, Darkseid knew that victory would always be on his side, just like before, and that the moment the sun in the hearts of the Supermen went out would be the moment of his victory.

"I'm here! It's a feeling of unbridled joy!" The Dark Lord's power continued to rise, and the crimson torrent of Omega rays crushed the resistance of Golden Superman.

The confrontation began to lose its suspense.

It looked like the Omega Rays were about to completely engulf the two Supermen.

Beyond dimensions.

Driven by a desperate desire to save his father, he intervened.

He himself certainly did not have the ability to participate in the war.

but.

"Black box! You're amazing!"

Having been able to pinpoint the location of Daxide and the two Supermen, Ian used his newly acquired artifact, whispering something in the ear of the Eternal Spear before hurling it.

The moment the tip of the Eternal Spear pierced the dimensional barrier.

The entire world without light trembled.

That trajectory that pierced through eternal darkness brought a ray of bright light to the dimension of reality.

The spear, wrapped in runes, hurtled towards Darkseid's vitals with speed exceeding the laws of physics—more precisely, aimed directly at an unspeakable spot in the gaps of the Dark Lord's armor.

Ian still shoots other people's swallows.

Faced with this sudden attack.

Darkseid's Omega Rays continued to fire, the crimson light suppressing the gradually dimming glow of the two golden Supermen. Sensing the deadly threat approaching from behind, the Dark Lord didn't even turn around. He simply grabbed back, his hand, enveloped in divine power, forcefully grasping the thrusting Spear of Eternity in mid-air.

"Just a little trick."

The spearhead was only millimeters away from its target, yet it trembled violently between Darkseid's fingers. Runes erupted with blinding light, and the spear bent into an astonishing arc under immense pressure. When the Dark Lord had to use a second hand, the Eternal Spear finally hummed under the strain.

It was frozen in the void.

"It's just a pointless struggle..."

Darkseid hadn't finished speaking.

Just then, the dimensional rift torn open by the spear suddenly expanded. The Black Death Sword, thrown in like a shark smelling blood, shot in, carrying with it a black mist that devoured everything.

"That's the downside of only having two hands."

Accompanied by the mockery of the unspeakable creature, the creation from the Symbiotic God drew a strange arc in the air and precisely planted itself in the void beside Clark Kent's hand.

"It seems you're not without a plan after all!"

Clark did not hesitate.

The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the Black Death Sword began to writhe wildly.

The sword instantly extended countless black threads that wrapped around the arm of the real Superman in Ian's mind. The substances from the darkest corners of the universe now fit perfectly into the Kryptonian's palm.

"Damn! What is this!"

Darkseid finally revealed his surprise.

In his pupils.

The reflection showed a Superman desperately swinging a sword at himself.

(End of this chapter)