He was selling gashapon toys in Marvel Studios, and at the beginning, Tony turned into Kuuga.

Black Gate Prison, Special Care Quarantine Zone.

The steel-boned mechanical prosthesis floats in front of the monitoring console, with five of the thirteen data probes operating stably, projecting real-time vital signs data into the air.

The green curve fluctuates smoothly, and the heart rate, blood pressure, and brain wave frequency are all within the normal range.

Everything seems normal.

"Vital signs are stable." Cyborg's voice was flat, "but the brainwave spectrum has shown seven abnormal peaks in the past seven minutes."

Bruce stood in front of the monitor, his cloak draped over his shoulders, casting a shadow that obscured half his face.

The screen displays a live video of the clown.

The man, secured to a specially made hospital bed with an electromagnetic strap used for serious criminals, had his eyes closed, his breathing even, and a faint smile even played at the corners of his mouth.

She looks like she's asleep.

"The peak intervals are getting shorter and shorter," Cyborg continued. "The first interval was 92 seconds, and the latest one is only 37 seconds."

"What is he doing?" Bruce's eyes remained fixed on the screen.

"Uncertain." Cyborg's mechanical eye flickered.

"But each time a peak occurs, my system detects extremely faint spatial energy fluctuations, with frequency characteristics..."

He paused for a second.

The energy signature remaining in the mother box showed an 87.3% match.

Tony leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

He had just rushed over from the bat cave, and his armor was not completely off yet. The armor on his right arm was half open, revealing the complex wiring inside.

"You mean, this guy is somehow resonating with the fragments left behind by Darkseid?"

"It's just a guess." Cyborg pulled up a new set of data, "but the source of the energy fluctuations comes from... a location that doesn't exist at known coordinates."

Silence spread through the monitoring room.

Bruce finally moved.

He walked to the monitoring console and quickly swiped his fingertips across the virtual keyboard.

A series of encrypted data streams flashed across the screen, finally settling on a three-dimensional star map.

"The fragments of the Mother Box are sealed within Tony's armor inserts."

Bruce's voice was deep.

"But what if the Joker isn't connecting the fragments themselves, but rather connecting them to things the fragments were once connected to?"

"You mean the coordinate echo from Apokolips?" Tony straightened up.

"Kant left behind spatial traces when he sacrificed himself."

Bruce zooms in on a point on the star chart.

"Although the channel has been closed, the residual frequency may take longer to completely dissipate."

Steel Bone's electronic eyes suddenly lit up.

"He found a residual frequency? And then tried to establish a one-way mental connection?"

"That can't be right, can it?"

On the monitor screen, the clown's eyelids twitched.

The smile became even more pronounced.

……

Apokolips.

Deep within the throne room, Darkseid's true form floated in the center of a dark red energy pool.

Countless tiny pieces of information flowed into his consciousness from all directions; these were real-time intelligence reports from various colonies on Apokolips.

Order, obedience, unity.

These three words form the cornerstone of his consciousness.

Every piece of information that enters his mind is processed by these three filters, keeping the useful information and discarding the useless.

He had become accustomed to this way of thinking.

It lasted for hundreds of thousands of years.

Then, the voice appeared.

Hey, big guy.

Darkseid's consciousness paused for a few seconds.

This sound does not belong to any frequency protocol of Apokolips.

It is sharp, fleeting, and carries an unsettling lightness.

"Who are you?" Darkseid's consciousness asked directly.

The voice laughed.

The laughter sounded like countless shards of glass rubbing against a metal plate—harsh, dense, and completely irregular.

"I'm a toy merchant, specializing in selling fun little gadgets."

"I heard you've been quite interested in what I'm selling lately?"

Dark red ripples spread around Darkseid's consciousness.

He knew this frequency.

It's an energy mark left by that damn gashapon merchant.

"You're trying to hack into Apokolips' core consciousness network?" Darkseid's voice carried a clear emotional fluctuation for the first time.

"Intrusion? No, no, no," the voice denied. "I just hitched a ride."

"The little fragment you left behind resonated with one of my products, so I followed that lead."

Darkseid remained silent.

He could sense the other person's presence.

Extremely faint, but it does exist.

It wasn't a complete consciousness; it was more like a residual image, a fragment of information deliberately projected.

"What do you want to do?" Darkseid asked.

"I want to see you," the voice replied, "to see just how boring the most boring guy in the universe really is."

"..."

"Look, I looked through your recent activity log and found something very interesting."

The voice continued,

"You spent millions of years building an absolute order that spans three thousand galaxies."

"Every planet operates according to your rules, and every life lives according to your script."

"That sounds impressive."

"But it's so boring."

Dark red patterns appeared on the surface of Darkseid's consciousness.

"Order is not for fun." His voice was eerily calm.

"I know that order is for the sake of control," the voice replied, "but control itself is an extremely tedious game."

"You know what will happen next, you know what choices everyone will make, you know that all planets will eventually meet the same end."

"No surprises, no unexpected events, no... smiles!"

Laughter rang out again.

"A smile?" For the first time, confusion arose in Darkseid's mind.

"Yes, a smile." The voice became excited. "How about this, big guy?"

"You've turned the entire universe into a playground."

"Each planet randomly selects a rule every day: today, the people on this planet must walk backwards; tomorrow, the sky on that planet will turn purple; and the day after, everyone will forget their own names."

"No logic, no reason, pure randomness."

"You're insane," Darkseid bluntly commented.

"I'm not crazy," the voice retorted. "I'm just bored."

"You spent so much time building a perfect system, and it has been running for hundreds of thousands of years without any change."

"Don't you think this is boring?"

Darkseid did not answer.

Because it was the first time he realized something.

The intruder's consciousness frequency... was actually trying to influence his thinking.

It is using pure, chaotic logic to challenge the definition of order at the core of his consciousness.

"Do you know what's most interesting?" the voice continued, "It's the disruption of order itself."

"Make it so that no one knows what will happen tomorrow, make every choice a gamble, and make the whole universe a grand lottery game."

"Today you may live, but tomorrow you might become a frog."

"Today you may be a king, tomorrow you may be a beggar."

"There are no eternal rules, only eternal randomness."

"Isn't that interesting?"