The Nightmare World.
The eternal cold wind whipped snow against Ian's face. He looked down in confusion at the demon head dangling at his waist. The creature's murky eyes and face were filled with fear and terror.
"What Dimension Lord?"
Ian pondered this question, slightly furrowing his brow.
"You... You..." The demon head was still immersed in disbelieving horror. It couldn't understand how Superman's son could be a Dimension Lord.
This was utterly non-magical!
Although the Bull-Headed Demon didn't understand much about science, it believed this situation was probably not very scientific either! Kryptonians were a cosmic divine race, not a Dimension Lord race!
"You possess an entire universe!"
The Bull-Headed Demon nervously looked around, surveying and sensing this strange world.
And the more information it gathered.
The more terrified it became.
The massive figure in the sky, though lifeless, was still so terrifying, even in its broken state, that it felt suffocating to the demon, a creature that had crawled out of Hell. Just think: such an entity was hung in the sky as mere decoration. How could a small demon not tremble with fear?
"I'm not a Dimension Lord, and I don't own an entire universe. I have a cosmic tumor growing in my body. It's an illness, but there's no known cure so far."
"Thank goodness, since I wasn't planning on getting it cured anyway."
Ian still remembered his conversation with Miss Death. He was certainly more inclined to trust the words of that high-ranking entity. A small demon, which even he could deal with, couldn't compare to Miss Death in terms of insight or status.
"A universe growing inside your body! And you still say you're not a Dimension Lord!" The Bull-Headed Demon might have only registered what it wanted to hear. Its sharp screech was particularly jarring in this silent world.
"I have inherited knowledge! I know this is your dimension! You are a Dimension Lord disguised as a human child, and you used some method to implant false memories into Superman's son!"
"How could Heaven allow you to do this! Those damned angels would never tolerate you profaning a holy soul!" Its eyes were filled with shock.
Its tone was also full of disbelief. At this point, the Bull-Headed Demon felt it was slowly starting to understand everything. Why couldn't its hellfire harm this boy?
Why did one spit from him nearly kill it? And the hammer attacks that tormented its soul—all its confusion now had a rational, yet terrifying, answer.
This boy was actually a Dimension Lord with a twisted sense of humor, feigning weakness! It was just a small demon. How could it possibly contend with such a terrifying entity?
It was already on the same level as its master!
"I profaned a holy soul?"
Ian pondered this. He felt the demon was insulting him. This was something an uncle could tolerate, and an aunt could tolerate, but he could not. So, he raised his hand and immediately gave the demon two hard slaps.
"How dare you! Sowing discord in my family again!"
Ian glared furiously at the demon. "You're the Dimension Lord! Your whole family are Dimension Lords! Am I not holy? The angels' judgment is indeed much better than you demons'!"
"The angels definitely know that I am as holy as my father. The priests at church all love me—and even General MacArthur once said Ian is a good fellow!"
Sometimes.
Telling a small lie was harmless.
However.
"Uh... Douglas MacArthur never said that... I remember... his soul was awarded to me to eat..." The Bull-Headed Demon actually wanted to say that it also wished its whole family were Dimension Lords, but it didn't have the courage. In the end, it could only weakly point out the flaw in Ian's speech.
"What!?"
Ian stared, stunned.
He had used the pirated General's quote dozens of times, and he never expected to run into such a well-reasoned refutation of a falsehood, making him feel the furious shame of having his pants pulled down in public.
"I don't believe it! You're lying! Unless you spit the General out for me!" It was only because Ian hadn't brought his hammer that he didn't slam the demon's head hard a few times.
How to put it? Hitting a demon's head was truly addictive. Furthermore, compared to hitting a wooden fish, Ian was sure that hitting a demon's head would definitely increase real merit.
"I remembered wrong! I remembered wrong!" Seeing the dangerous glint in Ian's eyes, the Bull-Headed Demon trembled and, with its IQ returning to a high level, chose to shut up.
At this moment, this creature that crawled out of Hell felt an unprecedented level of fear towards Ian. No demon would dare provoke a Dimension Lord with a complete cosmic dimension.
It knew that if the "Dimension Lord" in front of it insisted on playing the role of a human, it was best to cooperate with the performance. Otherwise, death itself might become a luxury for it.
"That's better. How could I remember the General's words wrong? Even if you spit him out, the General himself must have misremembered." Ian felt infinitely better and looked up at Galactus, who was showing his head from behind a thundercloud. The tilted Galactus seemed to have moved a little closer to the ground.
"Why is it falling so slowly! I feel like finding a plane and flying up there! Why do I need to reach Level 5 to learn to fly! Is it just because I wasn't born with wings on my back?"
"My dear System, in our America, you could totally be convicted of racial discrimination! I'd win the case easily!" Ian sighed heavily.
After another round of psychological manipulation on his System, he hung the demon head on his waist, stood up, and prepared to visit that mysterious base again to find out what was going on.
Following the direction of his memory.
Ian started running.
The demon head at his waist bounced up and down as he ran.
But the demon dared not complain in the slightest. Buildings on both sides of the street were covered in thick snow and ice. It continually observed this strange world with its murky eyes.
"What's that sound?"
Ian suddenly stopped.
A faint roar and intense sounds of fighting were constantly coming from the distance.
Mixed with the roar of gunfire.
"It's raining! I must go get caught in that rain!" Ian immediately became excited, as if injected with adrenaline, and sprinted off in the direction of the sound.
"It's been snowing the whole time, though. Snow is just another form of rain, and look, it's raining in my mouth too." The demon head played the philosopher and got abstract.
Hanging at Ian's waist, it was constantly spitting out foam. Clearly, it was dizzy from the bouncing. The demon, having arrived in this world, felt as if it had lost its transcendent status.
It was just an undead head.
"What is the meaning of life and death? Perhaps this is the demon's fate."
It sighed, melancholy, its voice full of sadness.
"Shut up! Don't distract me from finding the source of the sound! My favorite storm of bullets is nearby!" Ian raised his hand again and gave the demon head at his waist a few more hard slaps.
"Stop hitting me! It really hurts!"
The demon's eyes, immersed in sentimental philosophy, suddenly became a little clearer. Ian took the opportunity to find the source of the commotion, darting through a small alley and into a frozen fountain square.
Blood.
More blood.
Warm, scarlet blood was everywhere.
The extremely intense sounds of fighting from before had originated right here.