American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 157 Clark: I am the son of Kent! God: But this is my book!

The moment when the three children's attention was completely captured.

The scenery around Locke also began to ripple silently.

It was not the maze that attacked or repelled him.

On the contrary, he felt an extremely gentle, almost solicitous guiding force.

Space gently folded around him, and the next moment, he found himself in a...

In a peculiar gap.

This place is no longer the familiar exhibition hall or corridor of a museum, but more like a hub composed of pure energy and information.

Countless translucent, shimmering rune-like bands of light flowed and intertwined around him, forming a complex and magnificent three-dimensional network.

Each strip of light seemed to connect to a part of the physical structure of the maze.

Moving walls, activating exhibits, triggering traps, generating new paths...

All changes are reflected in these rushing streams of light in real time, making them readily apparent.

He could even 'see' the children who had just been separated from his perspective, almost like God—

Clark walked with extreme caution and taut muscles through the long corridor filled with eerie portraits.

Each step was taken with exceptional steadiness.

Although Salafir's little face still showed some nervousness, it was mostly filled with curiosity.

Dior strode confidently into the shadows behind the archway he had chosen, only to find himself in a much larger exhibition hall filled with various prehistoric fossils, dimly lit and with a somber atmosphere.

And the capital city.
He stood in the corridor, the aura around him resonating subtly with the energy paths within it. He tilted his head, seemingly listening intently to something, his expression unusually focused.

"Not bad."

Locke muttered to himself, observing the exquisite magical creation with great interest.

His magic still flowed smoothly into the labyrinth's cycle, and he even possessed a certain degree of authority, able to vaguely perceive the labyrinth's initial emotional state.

Curiosity, mischief, and a kind of...
The inexplicable closeness and dependence between him and his family.

This is no ordinary, malicious magical trap or ancient curse.

The root cause is...

Locke focused intently, trying to trace the energy source of this massive magic circle.

That exhilarating consciousness was innocent and pure, but deep within it, there was a faint trace of a quality that he felt very familiar with.

really
They are not exactly the same, but they share the same origin, like different branches from the same tree.

His gaze returned to the capital.

Yes
Transforming stillness into movement, giving life to inanimate objects.

Because God no longer deliberately suppresses himself as he used to.

Thus, the boost brought about by this extreme rebound caused the surging magical power within him to leak out unconsciously.

It was probably the slight energy particles leaked out by his emotional fluctuations when he first landed, like a spark amplified a thousand times, that unexpectedly ignited the ancient and dormant heritage of the museum itself.
Or rather, it activated a massive magic array that had been pre-set but had always lacked the power to start.

Like a master key, it accidentally inserted into and turned a lock that had been sealed for thousands of years, activating this sleeping behemoth.

Of course, this is only one possibility.

This museum has a long history, far surpassing the Gotham Museum's mere two hundred years of history.

He could imagine many other possible triggers, but one thing Locke was almost certain of:
The maze meant no harm to him or the children.

It's more like an amusement park with a complex program set up by ancient spellcasters...?

Or is it a trial ground for some ancient tradition?

It's just that it's from a long time ago, and its operation carries an ancient sense of coercion.

He tried to send clearer "stop" or "cancel" commands to that dazed consciousness through the magic link, but all he got back was a blank stare and a vague, still excited thought of "let's play together".

It seems to be able to understand and execute instructions that conform to its underlying rules, but cannot directly violate those rules.

"Ok."

Locke raised his hand and rubbed his temples, a look of bewilderment on his face.

Why is it that he feels this way again?

"You're actually quite cute," he said helplessly to the empty energy hub.

Of course, I can mobilize my power at any time to forcibly tear apart and restore this living magic museum.

But such a brutal method of breaking through would cause immense damage to the museum itself, not to mention the potential energy backlash and structural collapse, which would probably blow the entire museum to smithereens.

And look at the children displayed in the light stream.
Especially Salafir's face, which gradually became excited.

"That's fine."

Locke's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile, and he decided to relax completely, leaning back slightly.

A chair made of pure energy silently formed behind him.

This made him feel like a director sitting in a control room with countless monitor screens.

"Let's just consider it a sudden...extracurricular activity."

But that's what I said.
Locke still managed to transform his magic into an incredibly fine and sensitive net, quietly covering and linking all the core energy flows of the entire labyrinth.

Although he did not interfere with the children's exploration, he still raised the alert level to the highest level.

He can immediately sense any traps or energy fluctuations that might truly endanger the children's safety and quietly resolve or weaken them.

For example, reducing a magical shock that could knock someone unconscious to a mere breeze that would only make someone fall on their backside; turning a suddenly appearing deep pit into a shallow pit less than a meter deep.

They have also made thorough preparations and are ready to take action at any time to precisely rescue the 'losers'.

"Let me see how far you can go, boys."

Locke crossed his arms, his gaze shifting between the four different scenes, his eyes filled with parental expectation and a hint of undisguised mischievousness: "I hope you're not actually scared by that so-called 'surprise'."

For example:
Locke's gaze was fixed on the exhibition hall where Dior was located.

Looking at the enormous dinosaur skeleton that appeared particularly ferocious in the dim light, it seemed that a ghostly blue flame of the soul was beginning to gather in its empty eye sockets.

He chuckled.

He channeled a wisp of lightning energy into it.
-
Pass through the shadow of that stone gate.

Dior's gaze, habitually critical, swept over the even grander hall.

A towering dome, a cold marble floor.

And those dinosaur fossils, meticulously lit yet still exuding an air of antiquity.

But in his eyes, there was still an undeniable sense of antiquity and lifelessness.

"Ah"

He let out a soft snort, laced with undisguised sarcasm:
"Build it bigger, add a few broken dinosaur bones, and you think you can cover up the cultural emptiness and thin historical foundation?" He shook his head: "A clumsy piling up of things."

"It's a perfect match for Gotham's own style."

"A sense of defeat, a struggle to appear noble but ultimately failing."

To tell the truth
This place isn't even as stylish as the restrooms in his club.

Even if it were given to his family for free, he wouldn't...
"Roar!"

A roar shattered the silence of the exhibition hall!
In the dim light, a huge fossil skeleton seemed to be infused with a false life.

It makes a teeth-grinding 'crunching' friction sound.

It is the largest of the fossils.

—Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Two eerie blue soul flames ignited within its empty eye sockets, and its massive bone claws slammed into the ground, causing the entire exhibition hall to vibrate. With unparalleled momentum, it charged towards the blond boy who had intruded into its territory!
However, this terrifying scene was enough to terrify any ordinary person.

Dior simply stood there indifferently, without even adopting any defensive stance.

"So noisy, a bunch of old bones."

He muttered a complaint under his breath, and only just as the massive skull, covered in sharp teeth, was about to snap shut, did he casually and nonchalantly throw a punch.

Without summoning a Stand or using any techniques, he relied solely on pure, extreme physical strength.

"Bang——!!!"

A deafening explosion!

The air itself seemed to be compressed and exploded by that punch!
That hard, immortal dinosaur skull that has survived for millions of years
Along with a small portion of his spine, it instantly exploded in front of Dio's fist!
Countless bone fragments and fossil pieces shot backward in a radial pattern, crashing into the display cases and walls behind them!

The massive headless skeleton, having lost its power source, collapsed with a roar, scattering across the ground and raising a cloud of dust.

"."

Dior shook his wrist and didn't even feel the pain from the rebound.

He snorted and patted the dust off the corner of his clothes.

A hint of boredom flashed in his pupils.

Thanks to that foolish brother, his body is so strong that even he himself isn't quite sure where the limit is.

Dealing with this kind of all-encompassing skeleton is a complete waste of energy.
If Old Deng wants to use these things to test himself, then...
"Boom——!"

Before the contemptuous smile on Dior's lips could fully unfold, a sudden change occurred!
Above the dome of the exhibition hall.

Thunder gathered, emitting a chilling buzz.

The next second, several blazing bolts of lightning struck out of nowhere, hitting the pile of scattered dinosaur fossils!

The blinding lightning did not cause destruction; instead, it used the lightning as threads.

They swiftly moved, intertwined, and constructed among the pile of white bones!
"Click!"

Amid a series of chilling sounds of bones reassembling.

The Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton rose up again in an even more ferocious and terrifying manner!
This time, the lightning was no longer just a fleeting moment!
They flowed and surged between the bones like living creatures, forming clearly visible patterns of lightning muscles and energy blood vessels, even coalescing in their hollow eye sockets and giant mouths, spewing terrifying electric snakes!
A violent pressure enveloped the entire exhibition hall, more than ten times more terrifying than the previous purely physical impact!
"."

Dior's contempt froze instantly, and the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

He could almost picture the wicked grin on the old man's face as he hid in some 'monitoring room'.

"...Old Deng."

He forced out two words through gritted teeth, his tone filled with speechlessness.

but
That's what makes it interesting.

"Roar!!!"

The Thunder Tyrannosaurus roared, its voice crackling with thunder!
It stomped its foot hard, and a ring of lightning spread out from it!
Wherever it passed, the ground was scorched black, the air was ionized, and it made crackling and popping sounds!
Dior reacted extremely quickly.

He simply leaped into the air and skillfully adjusted his posture in mid-air to avoid the wide-ranging lightning strike.

But the next moment, the Tyrannosaurus Rex's bone tail, crackling with electricity, transformed into a giant whip and swept across.

The speed far exceeded that before! The strong wind it generated was mixed with tiny sparks of electricity.

Seeing this, Dior stopped being so arrogant.

"Smash Varudo!"

Time and the world heed the call.

The sky and earth were gray, and all things stagnated.

The lightning froze in the air, transforming into streaks of brilliant yet still light.

Time stop initiated!
Central hub.

Watching the destructive effect of Dio's punch, which was devoid of any skill and relied purely on brute force.

Locke subconsciously raised his hand to wipe away non-existent cold sweat from his forehead.

"That kid... just how many punches did Muda land on Clark that day?"

He muttered to himself, a mixture of amazement and helplessness in his voice, "This improvement in physical strength is just too outrageous. His pure strength is almost on par with what I was five years ago..."

If it weren't for his father's superior skills, who added some ingredients beforehand...

Otherwise, this trial would truly become a boring hole-drilling simulator for Dio.

"Energy reshaping, with lightning properties..."

"Hmm, this should force him to show some real skill, instead of just relying on brute force." Locke stroked his chin, watching Dio begin to use his Stand and abilities under the attack of the Lightning Tyrannosaurus, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes.

"Work hard, kid."

It has been confirmed that although the situation on Dior's side is intense, there is no real danger for the time being.

Locke then turned some of his attention to another image of light flow.

The gallery displaying Clark's portrait.

"Alright, let your uncle see what you've run into this time, Clark."

Looking at the scene over there, Locke chuckled, "In short, it shouldn't be the kind of thing that requires brute force or surprise."

He paused halfway through his sentence, and his expression became somewhat strange.

Clark was standing in front of a huge, exquisite portrait.

The painting depicts a young girl holding a fruit basket with a gentle smile.
It's somewhat like
Lana?

At that moment, the girl in the painting came to life.

She took a bright red, incredibly tempting apple from the basket with her slender hand and stretched her arm out of the picture frame, trying to hand the apple to Clark.

The allure emanating from the apple, even through the energy flow, made Locke sense something unusual.

"Poisoned apple?"

Locke's expression became even more subtle.
-
Go through the corridor.

Clark arrived at a hall filled with various portraits.

He looked up at the dome above him.

The clear blue eyes reflected the dust-streaked beams of light streaming in from the high window.

While both were in the strange, living labyrinth, Clark's feelings were completely different from Dior's critical and demanding ones.

"So tall."

His perception was more basic and also more profoundly microscopic.

"How many people and how much time would it take to stack these stones one by one?"

Super vision can even detect minute signs of weathering on stone pillars, or smooth indentations in the floor.

A sense of awe for time and history.
It quietly replaced his previous unease.

"It's unbelievable."

"Although these carvings are somewhat worn, you can still feel the care and attention the people who built them put into preserving what they considered important forever..."

"."

"You're right, child. Time is the greatest craftsman, and also the most ruthless thief."

A gentle, aged voice sounded beside him, picking up where he left off.

Clark was startled and turned his head sharply, only to find that the sound was coming from a portrait on the wall next to him. The painting depicted an old man wearing a long robe and a dark hood, with only the lower half of his face and a gray beard visible.

And at this moment.
The old man's lips in the painting are opening and closing!
"?!"

Clark was startled and instinctively took a half step back. "The painting... the painting is talking?"

"Speak? What's so strange about that?"

In another painting, a hooded noblewoman is languidly speaking, and the border of her portrait seems to be elegantly upturned.

"We can sing too, but we're afraid of scaring you, darling."

"That's right, we haven't had any new guests for centuries, we're practically dying of boredom."

In the third painting, a hooded man who looks like a scholar scratches his head with a quill pen. "Kid, is the king still in charge outside? Or is it that thing called 'parliament'?"

"."

Clark was a little bewildered by the barrage of questions. His brain processed the surreal scene for a moment, but he still answered honestly and with a slight stutter:

"Uh... nowadays most countries have parliaments and prime ministers, right? Kings also exist, but they might be... a little different?"

"Oh my God!"

The noblewoman exaggeratedly clutched her chest in the portrait, exclaiming, "I knew it! Lady Gert said back then that the monarchy was doomed to fail!"

"What does Gert know about politics? She can't even calculate the wool tax and land rent for her own estate! A woman who's good for nothing but playing with magic potions!"

the scholar portrait retorted.

"Hey! Watch your language, Professor Sebastian! Mrs. Gert is my great-aunt!"

A portrait of a knight stands nearby, protesting in a muffled voice; the metal helmet's reflection is even visible beneath the hood.

Are these historical figures?

Clark scratched his head
But watching them bicker and argue like neighbors in front of me was unbearable.

He found it both absurd and funny, and the tension he had felt earlier dissipated considerably.

"Um...why are you all wearing hoods?"

he asked curiously.

“Fashion, child, fashion! We’re a secret society, you know?” the original portrait of the old man said in an ode-like tone. “This was all the rage back then! Mysterious, elegant!”

"Mainly because I'm too lazy to do my hair."

The scholar muttered a profound truth under his breath.

"."

An awkward silence fell over the scene for a second.

"Alright, let's get back to the main topic."

In this somewhat comical atmosphere, the old man spoke again, changing the subject:
"You are not human, child."

"?"

Clark's smile froze; he couldn't tell if the words were an insult or a statement of fact.

"Precisely."

The hooded old man slowly raised his face, which had been hidden in the shadows:
"You are not from Earth."

He smiled, a smile devoid of malice, yet carrying a startling, earth-shattering meaning.

"???"

Clark was completely stunned.

He instinctively wanted to look around, but then he noticed the old man speaking.

The entire corridor instantly became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. All the portraits seemed to have received a silent command, and they all shut their mouths tightly, returning to the silence of ordinary portraits. Only the pairs of painted eyes were still silently watching him.

How...how did he know?!
My father and uncle never explicitly stated my or Dior's origins.
But how did this portrait come about?
Clark's long-held doubts were stirred up.

In fact, many signs had been accumulating in his mind for a long time.

Why are his strength, senses, and regenerative abilities so different from those around him, making him seem like an incongruous monster?

Why does he have an almost instinctive longing and affinity for the golden sunlight, as if it were the source of life?

Why do Mom and Dad sometimes embrace and gaze at the deep night sky, their eyes filled with a sadness he can't understand?
The hooded old man seemed quite pleased with Clark's turbulent emotions. His withered fingers peeked out from the wide sleeves of his robe, pointing towards the dark and deep end of the corridor.

There, one can vaguely see a painting that is larger than any of the other paintings, shrouded in a faint light.

"there."

The hooded man's voice had a certain intonation, similar to that of the small British theaters he sometimes watched, with a strong accent:

"Go to the portrait at the end of the road; the answer to your question can be found there."

"Om-!"

Before Clark could fully recover from his shock, or even have a chance to ask any further questions—

As if the magical time had ended, all the portraits instantly lost all signs of life and froze completely.

They remained exquisite, yet they had reverted to being lifeless objects.

Clark was left standing alone, his gaze involuntarily drifting towards the end of the corridor.

His heart pounded. The biggest mystery about his origins had been so directly revealed, and he couldn't resist.

You are neither human nor an Earthling.
Was this arranged by my uncle? Was he testing me in this way, or... telling me the truth?

Clark took a deep breath and looked at the huge portrait at the end of the corridor, shrouded in a faint light. He took a step, the stone floor echoing softly beneath his feet.

The surrounding portraits fell completely silent, but they were like countless silent eyes watching him walk toward his end.

The closer he got, the more he could feel the immense size and extraordinary nature of the painting.

Until he stood in front of the giant screen, and his gaze met the hazy halo of light.
—The surrounding scenery began to blur and distort.

The walls and ceiling of the corridor all vanished as reflections.

"Hoo~!"

He found himself standing on a familiar farm.

The afterglow of the setting sun turned the wheat fields golden, and in the distance, you could even hear the creaking of the old windmill at my uncle's house.

Everything was terrifyingly real; his superhuman senses could find almost no flaws.

Then, he saw a girl.

She stood by the wheat field, her back to the setting sun, her face enveloped in a warm but indistinct halo, only her soft contours and the strands of hair fluttering in the wind could be vaguely outlined.

She raised her hand, and an apple appeared in her hand without her noticing.

Its bright red and full color
It embodies all the world's imagination of 'deliciousness'.

Clark can even 'see' the sweet juice saturating beneath the fruit.

Just looking at him made my salivary glands start secreting uncontrollably.

"Eat it."

The girl's ethereal voice resonated directly in Clark's heart, carrying a seductive quality:
"You will know all the truth. Your origin, your mission, the meaning of your existence... all the mysteries that trouble you and keep you up at night will find the perfect answer at this moment."

The girl's arm, along with that incredibly tempting apple.

And so it patiently hovered in front of Clark.

The aroma grew stronger; the apple seemed to glow, calling out to him silently.

“Eat… Clark…” The girl’s voice, as soft as the feather, tickled his eardrums and heartstrings, “It’s incredibly sweet… It can help you see through all the fog…”

Clark's throat bobbed.

Forbidden Apple.

Yet it carries the allure of knowing everything.

This is a thousand times, ten thousand times more powerful than the allure of power, wealth, or delicious food!
It strikes at the deepest and most urgent desires in Clark's heart.

If I and Dior really did come from the stars...

That.
Where did they come from? Who are their parents? Why were they sent to Earth? What kind of past and future do they carry? What should be done with his immense power?
The apple in front of me seems to be the shortcut to all the answers.

Clark's eyes glazed over for a moment as he looked at the apple so close to his face, at the pale arm that was offering the apple, and at the blurry face behind him that radiated gentleness and understanding.

This is a temptation tailor-made for him!
His deepest desire for 'identity' and 'mission' surged like a tidal wave.

Almost instinctively, he slowly reached out and touched the apple's cool, smooth skin.

He accepted the apple.

In that instant, countless blurry images flooded his mind—

The birth and annihilation of stars, distant cries and prayers, cold metal and warm embraces...

The temptation was so sweet that he almost became addicted.

A clear identity and a grand mission would allow him to immediately rid himself of all self-doubt.

Make him understand the responsibility of power.
This will help him overcome his confusion about this powerful force.

As long as you eat
Clark abruptly closed his eyes.

A flash of extreme struggle crossed his face, then turned into resolute determination.

The next second, instead of putting it to his mouth, he suddenly clenched his fingers!

"Crack——!"

A crisp cracking sound echoed through the tranquil farmland.

Juice gushed from between his fingers, and the apple containing "truth" was mercilessly crushed to pieces by him!
"Ugh……"

He lowered his head, sighed softly, and his voice carried a hint of weariness.

"To tempt me with what I desire most...that's really ruthless."

"But if even 'who I am' needs an external thing to tell and define it, is this defined 'me' still the real me?"

He recalled the chaos that had gripped Gotham.

That tyrannical, arrogant self.

That version of myself abandoned everything Clark Kent.

Instead, they embraced a powerful identity defined by a twisted force.

That was a painful lesson.

But it also made him understand.
The true self.
It comes from the warm embrace of my mother and father, and from the support of my uncle.

It stems from the daily arguments and reconciliations with Dior, from the earthy scent of Smallville and the boundless cornfields under the setting sun.

It is these ordinary little things
They wove 'Clark'.

Accepting this apple is tantamount to denying everything.

It's tantamount to admitting that all his past struggles, learning, and growth were worthless and could be covered up with just an apple.

He had been lost and indulged in debauchery, and almost met with utter ruin.

But it was precisely because of his experience that he became even more determined.

The self originates from the exploration of oneself.

Mission is inherent in the process of pursuit.

He is Clark, and he will always be Clark.

An existence made up of the love and choices of the Kent family!

—Clark Kent!

I raised my head and opened my eyes again.

This time, however, there was no longer any confusion or struggle in those gentle blue eyes.

Instead, it was replaced by a scorching, almost tangible, dazzling light!
The crimson heat rays converged in his eyes with unprecedented intensity.

But I still have to say something.

"more importantly."

His voice turned cold: "Uncle wouldn't lie to me about his own farm."

And you

"They shouldn't have tried to fool me by using my family's farm."

boom! ! !
Two intensely hot gazes, like angry red dragons, erupted from his eyes!
It wasn't aimed at a specific point, but rather it swept wildly across the entire sky, the entire wheat field, and the entire illusory world!

The sky was torn apart like a rag!

The wheat fields and farmhouses were like a painting thrown into flames, instantly charred, curled up, and vanished into nothingness.

That girl, too, vanished like smoke amidst her smile...

The whole world, this intricately crafted prison built to target the softest part of his heart, is no match for his absolute self-power!

Vulnerable.

He returned to the portrait.

The portrait cracked.

A ball of light fell out.

The aged voice echoed in his ears:

"You have passed the test, child."

"This is the Book of Eternity, and you are qualified to use it."

"It contains all the magic I know. Use it wisely to protect everything you want to protect."