Under normal circumstances, Ian could not keep his mouth shut for a second.
However, to ensure that two red, exhausted eyes wouldn't quietly appear beside his bed tonight, he immediately bowed his head and stuffed his mouth full of food.
This was incredibly difficult!
Who says Superman can't be a scary story for kids? Feeling the mountain-like weight of his father's love on his shoulders, Ian chose to be compliant, putting on an expression that suggested he had also realized something.
To be honest,
he didn't believe those so-called Superman serums could create a Superman. After all, he didn't gain much experience points after drinking them, which clearly indicated that the technology and potent ingredients inside were not up to standard.
Of course,
Lois and the others present clearly did not know this.
"I see."
The doubt and confusion in Lois's mind vanished, replaced only by amazement at the wonderful connection between Ian and Clark. She truly believed Clark's seemingly logical explanation.
Seeing this, Clark also inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that his Super Brain must be used for things like this, he had to use every means necessary to maintain the harmony and stability of this family.
Was he despicable?
Clark felt somewhat despicable.
However,
if Ian was wronged slightly, the family would win. Clark began to understand some of Batman's past plans involving weighing pros and cons. After today, he felt he could forgive Batman's past actions a little bit.
It truly was unavoidable. After all, Clark couldn't very well say that Batman had previously told him that Ian allegedly gained power from writing, could he? Forget Lois not believing it, even if he saw it with his own eyes, Clark was still skeptical now. He bet that if he dared to say that, Lois would immediately try to make a pair of scissors out of Kryptonite.
"Dear, which part would you like to cut first?"
The Super Brain even allowed Clark to meticulously envision what would happen if he chose various possibilities.
For this very reason,
the invincible Superman could not take that risk. Ian's steady reputation provided him with an excellent cover. In fact, no one really questioned whether Ian's habit of eating random things was reasonable.
After all, for Ian, it was very reasonable.
He even had a doctor's diagnosis confirming it.
"This is great."
Jonathan couldn't help but say when he saw the situation.
"With such an amazing meta-human baby formula, why not let me have a sip? I think I might still be salvageable..." If given the chance, he certainly wanted to be a second-generation Superman.
Even if the cost was never being able to play football again.
It would be a little regrettable.
But inheriting his father's legacy was clearly more attractive and cost-effective than playing football.
"We can't be sure yet if that serum really has the effect of waking up dormant genes in you. We can't let you risk your life to test it."
Sam's serious warning saved Clark some brain cells.
"Yes, dear. Ian might be an exception." Lois also quickly advised Jonathan. She knew that Ian gaining Kryptonian powers was very likely an exception.
Perhaps Ian's pica had given him an overly powerful digestive system.
Aliens, after all.
They were all different in their own ways.
Maybe Ian had a special organ for it in his body.
Lois deep down was unwilling to believe Ian was sick, so she had long since found a rational explanation for Ian's pica—you shouldn't define an alien's diet based on an Earthling's.
"Alright."
Jonathan looked slightly disappointed at the news.
And this was exactly what Clark didn't want to see. He had concealed his situation before out of fear of this very scenario. As Superman, he didn't know how to comfort his eldest son now.
Kryptonian genes were something that
were either awakened or not. No one could force them to awaken through other means, as it would only lead to endless troubles. Clark had seen many humans lose control after being contaminated by Kryptonian genes.
Just when Clark was in a difficult position,
"I'll just go back to playing my football. Maybe my son will have a chance to awaken someday? That would be pretty good too." Jonathan, as the eldest son, was very considerate of his family.
He didn't make things difficult for Clark and even joked lightly, "Of course, as Ian always says, the poor rely on mutation, the rich rely on technology."
"Dad, Mom, when are you guys going to go bankrupt so I can take a gamble?" It must be said that Jonathan truly had a sense of humor, and the atmosphere at the dinner table eased considerably.
Ian also finished his plate at this point.
"It's okay, Jonathan. I'm researching magic lately. Once I figure it out, I'll pass on the supreme Ian Divine Art to you. I promise not to charge you a single penny in interest or tuition."
No one believed Ian's words. Everyone thought he was just trying to keep the atmosphere lively, and they all laughed incessantly. He didn't mind, just taking the opportunity to steal the fresh grilled beef ribs from Jonathan's plate.
The atmosphere at dinner improved significantly.
Family warmth was overflowing.
After eating their fill, General Sam Lane also prepared to leave.
"I will continue to follow up on the Luthor investigation." His military uniform was crisp, and his tone was steady. "I will inform Clark directly of any news—Clark certainly needs to be informed about Kryptonian matters."
These words were very reasonable,
reducing Clark's resentment a tiny bit.
"Perhaps you could investigate this location." Ian fumbled around under the table, shooed away the cat hiding in the drawer, and marked a spot on a map with a circle.
"Very good. If a major case is solved, I will apply for a reward for you as an informant from the military." Sam smiled and took the map, without asking Ian where he got the intelligence. After all, the person who "reported the crime" in the first place was his little grandson in front of him. General Sam figured Clark must be accompanying the awakened youngster to hone his abilities.
A reasonable judgment.
A beautiful misunderstanding.
Clark had no intention of clarifying. Sam checked his watch and hugged his three grandsons one by one. When it came to Ian, Ian also seized the moment to ask in a low voice.
"About the reward, after the military bigwigs take their kickbacks, can I still receive one percent of the full amount?" This was important, mainly because Ian was worried the military would base his taxes on the pre-kickback amount. The US military could totally do something like that, and Ian didn't want to end up having to pay extra tax without getting any benefit.
"..."
Sam was rendered speechless by Ian's carefulness.
"Don't worry, you won't be shorted a single penny. There are relevant standards for this." Sam assured Ian. He wasn't about to mention in front of the younger generation that he was one of those kickback-taking bigwigs.
"Thank you, Grandpa."
Upon hearing this, Ian finally hugged old Sam.
"I'll see you out."
Lois walked her father to the door.
The night was deep.
The street was utterly quiet.
"Lucy, our project is primarily focused on using Kryptonian genes to create human super-soldiers. If it proves safe... I'll fight for an opportunity for you."
Old Sam looked at the lights on in the house, lowering his voice to speak quietly to his daughter.
"I don't need it."
Lois firmly refused.
However,
old Sam's attitude was resolute. "No, you do need it. Look at your family. You married a god. At least in terms of the power He possesses, Clark is that living god."
"And you? You are just an ordinary person, as frail as you were when you were little. In this increasingly dangerous world, no one can say what will happen next."
He held Lois's hand.
His gaze was exceptionally complex.
Lois opened her mouth but couldn't retort.
"Even so, I don't need it."
She simply stuck to her stance.
Seeing this,
old Sam didn't continue to persuade. He knew how stubborn his daughter was. This was the reason Lois was an excellent reporter, and also the character trait that always gave him a headache.
"My dear, I'll stop here." Old Sam led Lois outside the small yard, just about to head for his top-of-the-line Hummer, bought with his kickbacks.
"Wait a minute, Dad, I'm still a little uneasy. You have to swear on Grandma's name that I won't really see my cloned husband or cloned son on the street."
Lois stopped old Sam, her expression still slightly uneasy.
"..."
Sam somewhat understood why Ian had silenced him earlier. This was all based on the stereotype of the military. Such blatant suspicion that left the military with no face to hide behind made him completely unable to argue.
After all,
he lacked confidence.
"You can't clone a brand new living Kryptonian with just a few Kryptonian corpses. You think too highly of our scientists. I really regret not forcing you to read more books."
"Only by reading enough will you understand that truly capable scientists don't care for the meager salaries we give them, even if their salaries were paid in full, it wouldn't be much." Sam spoke quietly, sighing heavily. He didn't know whether he was worried about Lois's education or the future research path of the military.
"..."
Lois wanted to find alcohol, but she couldn't find any in her pockets. She realized how serious the military's corruption problem was, and as a reporter, she was now somewhat troubled by her professional ethics.
Investigate?
What if she found out her old man was the number one corrupt official?
"I think you must have had a little too much to drink tonight. Hurry back." Lois hugged her father. Sam kissed her forehead and turned to get into his Hummer.
He took one last look at Lois's small yard.
"Your new car is nice."
Old Sam left a meaningful parting remark. Then, relying on his military plate, he ignored the neighborhood speed limit, started the Hummer, and immediately sped out.
"Huh?"
Watching her father disappear,
Lois walked back into the yard, utterly confused. Sure enough, next to the roses she had planted, she saw a new car... Where did this gleaming Hellcat come from?
"Who can resist this car?"
Lois's eyes were full of astonishment, and she couldn't help but go closer out of curiosity.
...
Inside the house.
Jonathan and Jordan were watching TV again. The baseball game replay on the screen showed a pitcher throwing a beautiful curveball, which made Jonathan whistle.
"That's a pretty good pitch."
Clark was doing the dishes but didn't forget to watch the game through the wall.
Ian wasn't too fond of these sports.
"Spit it out! Was it you? If it wasn't you, you definitely saw it!" He sat on the rug, vigorously rubbing the little orange cat's belly, trying to feel if there were two vials of serum he hadn't drunk inside.
"Ian, what do you think I should do to expose Mom?" Jordan was multitasking, still concocting his grand plan. He genuinely believed Lois was Supergirl.
"I suggest you cover your room with Supergirl posters, buy a bunch of Supergirl merchandise, and pretend you're obsessed with her. I think someone will tell you the answer then."
Ian offered his suggestion.
"That's too obvious, isn't it?"
Jordan frowned, seemingly considering the feasibility of the plan.
"To be honest, I don't think Mom would travel that far to be Supergirl. She cut her hand last week." Jonathan was arguably the most normal person in the family in terms of logical thinking.
"Then who do you think Supergirl is?"
Jordan looked at his older brother.
Jonathan leaned against the back of the sofa with his hands.
"It's obvious."
The older brother chuckled softly.
"Look at the build, look at the height, and that unreliable behavior... I think the answer is obvious." His gaze locked onto Ian sitting on the rug.
"Ah!"
Jordan's pupils contracted.
He was enlightened.
"You're saying Supergirl is Ian!?"
Jordan thought this deduction was very reasonable. After all, he knew Ian's secret. The high heels and stockings that day were a psychological trauma that made him lose interest in both of those items for the rest of his life.
Ian liked to wear women's clothing—he knew that, at least he thought he knew.
"Someone's spewing crap." Ian was furious. His ears didn't need super hearing to catch Jordan's slander, so he immediately grabbed a baseball and slammed it toward Jordan.
Jordan tried to dodge,
but he quickly found he didn't need to move.
"Ow!"
Jonathan, sitting next to Jordan, was hit directly on the forehead. "Jordan was talking nonsense, not me. I meant that you know who Supergirl is."
With that,
he pulled out his phone.
He brought up a video of a reporter interviewing Supergirl, with a man in stockings charging for photos behind her. Seeing this, Ian realized he had wrongly accused his older brother.
Bonk~ Bonk~
He stood up, picked up the rolling baseball, walked closer to the sofa, and smacked Jordan on the forehead twice. Under Jordan's bewildered stare, Ian secured Jonathan's fairness.
"You know who Supergirl is?"
Jordan wanted to complain, but he was more concerned about the question. Just as Ian was about to continue strategizing, suggesting Jordan mess with their father, Clark,
"Ian, come here."
Clark quietly appeared behind him.
The guilty Ian's hair stood on end.
"Dad, what's up? You need me to help you clean the living room, right?" Ian turned around and blinked, his eyes exceptionally clear.
"No, it's about that serum. I feel uneasy about it. You need to let me find a place to study it." Clark held an empty plastic bottle in his hand.
"..."
Ian somewhat understood what Clark meant.
He hated his peerless wisdom.
"A cautious person knows not to reveal biological information to anyone, Dad. I need to cultivate this caution from a young age." Ian chose to politely refuse this request.
"Hmm?"
Clark looked exasperated. "I haven't seen you find a private place to pee or poop every day, have I? The excrement in our neighborhood is collected every day by those people your grandpa works with."
His words made Ian's eyes widen.
"That's because I can't fly, so conditions are limited. If I could fly, I'd definitely go to Mars to pee and poop every day." Ian wasn't too worried about others using his biological information for anything.
He gained strength through his professional trait.
His excrement was God-knows-how complex. If American scientists really tried to analyze his biological information from that, they would likely face a true test.
"Go to the bathroom and pee."
Clark issued a stern father's command, not wanting to argue with Ian anymore.
"Got it."
Ian soulfully accepted the plastic bottle and went into the bathroom under the laughter of his two older brothers. Five minutes later, Ian walked out of the bathroom without the plastic bottle.
He was carrying Clark's washbasin.
It was sloshing full of suspicious yellow liquid.
*Slap*
Clark slapped himself on the forehead.
It was loud.
"The plastic bottle you gave me was too small. You may not know this, but the next time I go to the bathroom, Dad, you can secretly check and you'll know I'm definitely not lying."
Ian quickly explained.
He had looked for other containers.
However,
if it was convenient, who could refuse Superman's washbasin?
In the living room,
his two older brothers laughed even louder.
"I can testify for Ian, he speaks at least twenty percent truth every day." Jordan was always one for fanning the flames, speaking deliberately seriously, while Jonathan marveled at Ian's super bladder.
That was a whole basin!
"Three hundred US dollars, please."
Ian handed the washbasin to Clark.
"Three hundred US dollars for one pee? What, is your grandpa trying to get you to join the military, and you're starting to learn the traditional arts now?" Clark reluctantly took his washbasin.
The corner of his eye twitched slightly.
He was naturally aware of the internal affairs of the military.
"That's the market price, okay?" Ian's voice was righteous, and he had the confidence to back it up. "Do you know how much technological content is in this pee of mine?"
"It would scare... well, maybe not you, Dad, but it would scare a lot of other people." Ian was genuinely honest, which left Clark and his two brothers speechless.
"Protein powder is not technology."
Jonathan thought Ian was referring to the fact that he had previously snuck a lot of his protein powder.
"How do you know I only drink protein powder?" Ian's counter-question made Jonathan look up at his head, but Jonathan didn't find the possible presence of sharp horns.
"Alright, alright, here's three hundred US dollars." Clark was utterly resigned, taking out three hundred US dollars and placing it in Ian's hand. After a thought, he added two hundred US dollars. He was mainly worried that if he didn't show appreciation for the dinner matter, God knew if his toothbrush cup would suffer the same fate.
Indeed.
People,
shouldn't do bad things.
"Thanks, Dad."
Ian took the money and immediately bolted, leaving his two older brothers and Clark holding the basin standing there. With a whoosh, Clark disappeared and reappeared, having put the basin somewhere unknown.
And at that very moment,
Suddenly, the front door was violently pushed open. Lois stumbled in, her face distraught, instantly capturing the attention of the three men in the living room.
"What's wrong?"
Clark rushed forward, concerned.
"That car outside... Whose is it? The one I mentioned when I was young, saying I liked it very much, and you said you couldn't afford it, and I decided to marry you because I thought you were honest!"
Lois's speech system was a bit muddled, and she also let the children hear some old stories. Her face was full of disbelief, showing how much her inner emotions were fluctuating.
"The Hellcat! Yes, that's it! Where did that car come from?"
Lois's voice was several decibels higher than usual.
"It's Ian's car."
Clark sighed, exhausted, in response.
"I knew it was his!" Lois rushed to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of red wine, opened it, and started chugging it straight from the bottle.
"Uh, that car is quite strange."
Clark didn't know how to respond, only managing a dry, awkward laugh. Since he had let Ian take the blame during dinner, the guilty father felt he should try to save Ian's car.
He started thinking.
And at the same time,
"Can you believe it? That car actually asked me to get it two blankets and played the forecast for tonight's cold weather! I've never encountered anything so bizarre in my life!"
Lois finished a bottle of red wine in one gulp, her mood slightly calmer.
Hearing this,
Jonathan and Jordan both turned their heads, their eyes shining as if they had discovered a new continent.
"What!?"
"A talking car?! That's so cool?!" Boys are always attracted to weird and wonderful things, and they didn't even seem to think it was strange for a car to need a blanket.
It was normal.
After all, if most American boys had a car like that, they would let the car sleep in the bed and sleep on the floor themselves.
"Uh..."
Lois leaned against the liquor cabinet, instinctively grabbing a second bottle of red wine. "It wasn't exactly talking, but it could play radio voices, you know, like... Transformers?"
With that,
Mom gulped down another bottle of red wine.
"What! Transformers! Isn't that even cooler?!" The brothers exclaimed in unison, instantly leaping off the sofa and rushing to the window, their noses practically pressed against the glass as they looked outside.
"Ian and I are the tightest. He'll definitely let me drive it!"
"Damn it, I'm going to take my driver's test tomorrow!"
"You're too young, you can't handle it. Give the chance to your older brother... I didn't even awaken my Superman gene, I need comfort!"
...
The two brothers were arguing.
Lois's face was flushed after two bottles of red wine.
She staggered towards the storage room.
"Dear, what are you doing?"
Clark quickly followed, his tone slightly anxious. He was very worried that Lois was planning to smash Ian's car, which he felt would inevitably cause a new wave of family conflict.
However,
"Getting blankets for the Transformer, of course." Lois paused, taking another sip of the wine in her hand. "Hmm, everything seems perfectly rational after a drink."
"The car said it can fly, and if I cover it with a blanket and praise it in front of Ian, it will take me for a flight once." Lois busied herself without looking back.
"..."
Clark watched his wife rushing toward the backyard, carrying two down comforters.
He was left alone, utterly helpless.
The father was about to speak to his two sons, but unexpectedly, Jonathan and Jordan also ran from the window toward the front door, looking like they were going to join their mother in taking care of Ian's little car.
"What! It can fly too!"
"I've only seen cars like that in movies!"
Jonathan and Jordan's voices were full of amazement and longing. Seeing his two sons also running into the small yard, Clark suddenly felt that he, the "world's strongest superhero," was a bit superfluous.
"I can fly too, actually. Does anyone want to go for a ride with Superman?" Clark leaned on the door frame, even using his super voice slightly.
However,
Even with the use of a superb vocal tone, no one responded.
No one even looked back.
The only answer he received was the car radio in the yard playing "I Believe I Can Fly."
It sounded faintly mocking.
"..."
Clark suddenly wasn't so keen on protecting his youngest son's car anymore.
He looked a little lonely.
He could only pick up the cat that had run to the door to comfort himself.
"Let me think, what should I name you, lucky little fellow."
Clark looked up at the second floor while the cat trembled—the culprit's room light was still on. In the second-floor bedroom, Ian was sitting cross-legged in front of the computer, reading the day's news.
A dozen news pages were open on the screen.
*Shock! Mysterious Fainting Incidents on the Street, Experts Suspect Mass Hysteria*
*Aliens or Government Experiment? Fainting Citizens All Recover, Raising Questions*
*Eyewitnesses Claimed Seeing Two Aliens Fighting to the Death—Is a New Drug Causing Hallucinations?*
*Perhaps Without a Sound, a Nameless Hero Saved 8,650 People from a Mysterious Crisis!*
...
The initial news wasn't much.
But when he saw the last article, full of positive energy and praise, Ian truly didn't know whether to be happy or upset. No one knew that Ancestor persona had created so much positive karma!
"If I had known no one would sue for damages, I would have kept the name Ancestor." Ian suspected that in this world rampant with superheroes, the government might have a maintenance fund specifically for dealing with the aftermath of superheroes.
Seeing that continued scrolling revealed more news praising the nameless hero, yet no one knew who it was, Ian couldn't resist sneaking into Jordan's room to retrieve his "lost" mobile phone.
"Did any reporters find you?" Ian sent all those melodramatic photos to the punk girl, Madison, along with a text message to test the situation.
The punk girl, not sleeping late at night, replied instantly on her new phone.
[Yes, yes! But I told them I didn't remember anything and chased all the reporters away. Super great acting!] The punk girl's reply did not earn Ian's praise.
Instead, it confirmed that Ian was indeed slightly upset.
"I'm not Homelander, but I'm superstitious. I'm afraid the good deeds won't be credited to me." Ian knew that in the structure of this world, there truly was a belief that good people went to Heaven.
And he also knew that all the Angels in Heaven were neglecting their duties. What if they missed calculating his good deeds? Who would he complain to? The subtle anxiety in Ian's heart made him decide to do something.
With that thought,
Ian's eyes instantly lit up.
Over the next few hours, Ian, relying on his typing speed, registered hundreds of alt accounts on major forums, frantically playing the role of a [Survivor] to educate the public on who saved the world—after all, stopping the Demon Lord's son's plot to descend upon the human world surely counted as saving the world, right?
The King of Poisons in his computer virus.
A chibi anime girl icon popped up at this moment. It was a cute little doll with hair that gradiented into sky blue like a clear sky. When tied in twin tails, it bounced like little wings with movement. Its body had an impossible 2.5-head-to-body ratio, and its little hands and feet were plump like marshmallows.
There were faint pink blushes at the knees and elbows.
The artwork was exquisite.
It was clearly the product of high-level graphic artistry.
"When did you start fangirling over a superhero?" A small speech bubble with text appeared over the blue-haired girl icon. It was the virus in Ian's computer that was the biggest contributor to harmonious coexistence.
"Since I realized that heroes deserve to be celebrated." Ian quickly replied. After typing, he dragged the virus, which had been clinging for many years, into a locked folder in the bottom right corner.
There was nothing worth talking about.
He always suspected that the other side of the icon was a hairy-legged man.
And one with masochistic tendencies.
Because the locked folder was something the virus had slipped into Ian's computer. Since he had been to his second brother's room earlier, Ian remembered the website [Superhero Popularity Center] that his second brother had mentioned.
With such a website,
How could he be absent?
A flash of inspiration.
Ian started frantically creating new hero profiles.
[Stocking Superman (Feature: Never-rip stockings)]
[Ancestor (Feature: Likes everyone to call him Dad)]
[Great-Uncle-Grandpa Immortal Venerable (Feature: Proficient in using "Generation Suppression," likes to force enemies to kneel and kowtow)]
[Dance Battle God (Feature: Non-stop dance moves)]
...
[Bald Infinite Buddha]
When Ian reached the twenty-fifth profile, he thought about it and deleted the hero profile. The cost was too high; he definitely didn't want to wear that persona, even in the most coincidental circumstances.
"This is the deep thought Batman brought me. Whether you need it or not, you must have enough backup aliases." Just as Ian was about to create a hundred more profiles,
he found that the website had restricted him from uploading information.
At the same time,
[I'm Really Not Batman: ?????]
A private message popped up.
Ian clicked block without hesitation, only to find he couldn't block it.
He immediately picked up his phone.
"Doo doo doo~"
This time, it wasn't a stupid voicemail box.
"What are you doing?"
A familiar voice, a familiar question—it could only be the familiar Batman.
"Just unblock it, just for a moment." Ian had already guessed the truth. This website was probably Batman's phishing site, used to collect information from the public.
"Doo doo doo~"
The other party immediately hung up on Ian.
However,
Ian quickly found that even though he couldn't create new profiles, he could still edit the ones he had already created. He figured Bruce had given him partial access after careful consideration.
[His great-great-grandfather was a slave hanged on an oak tree by a farmer in 1863.]
[His great-grandmother was a laundry worker born during the Prohibition era, whose face was half-burned due to the "Yellow Peril" theory. His mother was an illegal immigrant from Latin America fleeing famine.]
[When his mother gave birth to him at the US-Mexico border, he found he also had a little bit of Native American blood...]
Heroes need an origin story.
And Ian chose the most suitable origin for Ancestor on the grand American stage.
After all, Ian had thin skin.
He couldn't stand being flamed online.
So, stacking ancestor with all the correct political buffs was very important—this was not difficult for an excellent writer. In fact, his deep contemplation even caused his [Writer] profession to level up.
[Writer LV2 (1/20)]
He successfully gained a general skill point. However, as a common profession, it didn't have an exclusive skill tree, and Ian had no immediate use for it, so he temporarily ignored it.
He gave full play to his talent.
[His battle suit is not cloth, but a thousand years of heritage!] Ian even found the most appropriate excuse for his future possible use of disposable, cheap battle suits.
[He delivers takeout and washes dishes during the day, and can only practice being a superhero at night. He was once homeless, sleeping in his car, but the dream of becoming a superhero gave him hope.]
[Depression and cancer did not defeat Ancestor. Ancestor was rejected by Superman and rejected by Batman, but none of this shattered his heart to protect the world.]
As Ian wrote, he was moved himself.
Then,
he saw that in the document he had already edited, the name [Batman] had been mysteriously deleted and replaced with the name [Green Arrow].
"?????"
Ian was greatly shocked by this action.
That kind of business rivalry.
Was Batman using it in the superhero arena too?
What a terrifying capitalist!
"So dirty."
Ian found he couldn't modify the entry anymore. Under his frustration, he chose to give up. He had fiddled around enough for the day. His alias background was rich enough.
"This will be Ancestor's defense, even sturdier than the Man of Steel's!" Ian was in high spirits. He checked the time, and it was nearly time. He got up, unzipped his backpack, and pulled out the Demon Head.
"Oh, great Ian Kent, I feel like I'm about to evolve. I just need a few more demons..." The Demon Head offered frantic praise to Ian.
But it didn't achieve a good effect.
Ian's mood was unperturbed.
Before the other party could finish speaking, he stuffed the head into the new piece of furniture in the room—an alloy cabinet engraved with many things Ian didn't understand.
However, Ian had not the slightest doubt about the security of the items stored in this cabinet, even though he didn't understand it, because his father had snuck the cabinet back from Uncle Bruce's house that night. Although the Bat symbol on it hadn't been completely scratched off, it didn't prevent Ian from pretending not to see it.
He knew
that his father's old friend, Uncle Bruce, had everything.
Like Dorae-Bruce.
Much more loyal than that [I'm Really Not Batman] on the forum.
"Oh, the traces of magic and technology! A truly powerful artifact for imprisoning a magical creature like me! Great Ian really can create anything."
Even though it was locked in a new cage, the Demon Head was still praising frantically. The chattering head had figured out a few things during these quiet hours.
While pledging allegiance to Trigon offered a broad future,
Switching allegiances might lead to an even wider horizon.
It also wanted to stand firm in its beliefs.
But after eating the son of a Demon Lord, the Minotaur Demon felt it truly couldn't go back... It couldn't personally apologize to Trigon, mainly because the nature of demons, being prone to betrayal, made it impossible to resist.
"Hail Ian God!"
Who says Hell can't have a new ruler?
The Minotaur Demon now only felt that it had to be a sufficient sycophant.
This way,
its family might also prosper in Hell starting from its generation. Although Ian abused it, scared it, and tested it, it felt that Ian's nature could definitely make him a good King of Hell.
"Shut up!"
Ian stuffed the sock Jordan had used into the Minotaur Demon's mouth.
Tasting that disgusting flavor,
the Minotaur Demon became even more convinced of its choice.
He was like this in his teens.
What would he be like when he was over ten thousand years old?
Under the Minotaur Demon's "passionate" gaze, Ian thought the other party was a little crazy, slammed the cabinet door shut, and lay on the bed, holding the book [Ian's Grimoire].
The time was approaching.
Seeing that Lady Death hadn't come for him yet, Ian naturally couldn't wait any longer. He didn't have the right to wait. The call of the Marvel Universe arrived punctually every day.
"Tonight, I need to officially transition to a Mage."
Ian wanted to thoroughly study the mysterious Grimoire in his hands.
However,
a person of startling ability should naturally only practice his own startling magic. Thus, Ian was trying to find a way to become the source of magic himself. He knew that the omniscient Tony God in the Marvel Universe could definitely help him.
"I just wonder what the price will be?"
Filled with anticipation,
Ian fell into a deep sleep as the clock struck.
...
Meanwhile,
The night was deep.
The hallway at midnight was empty. In the room near his parents' room on the second floor, the young man on the bed was frowning, his forehead covered in fine sweat.
Jonathan Kent's fingers subconsciously clutched the sheets, his knuckles turning white from the effort.
He seemed to be having a nightmare.
"Power..."
Perhaps it was truly a nightmare.
In the dream,
Jonathan stood in a void. Beneath his feet were shattered star rivers, and above his head was a twisted black sun. Whispers at his ear were like cold snakes, creeping from his spine all the way up his neck.
"We can give you power."
The voice seemed to come from all directions.
Jonathan looked around blankly, only seeing countless "himselves" suspended in the void—some wearing Kryptonian battle suits, some covered in blood, and some with only two black holes left in their eye sockets.
"Are you content?"
A strange, low voice suddenly sounded close at hand.
"Damn it! Where is this place?" Jonathan looked left and right, unable to see any source of the sound. Even when he covered his ears, the words drilled directly into his brain.
"Jordan, Ian, they have all become part of that supreme race."
"And you?"
"Will you live a life of mediocrity and wasted time? Even a training accident on the field, which could happen at any moment, could leave you with irreversible injuries. Do you really think you can avoid your destined tragic fate?"
The voice entered his ears,
enticing and seductive.
A picture of the family portrait appeared in the void—Clark and Jordan laughing in the clouds, Ian making a face while holding the talking car, and Lois under the spotlight holding her Pulitzer Prize.
And him,
Jonathan,
stood on the very edge.
Like an extra who had wandered into a superhero movie.
"No!"
Jonathan unconsciously shook his head.
"Who... or what are you! What do you want?" His attitude was extremely firm, but no matter how much he ran, he seemed unable to escape this illusory dream.
"We were failures, just like you."
The voice sounded again.
"But if you can help us... we can climb to the new peak of this world together!" The demonic voice entered his ears, as if trying to infiltrate Jonathan's mind word by word.
"Get out!"
Jonathan roared.
Lightning flashed.
As if illuminating countless phantoms in the darkness.
Things that did not belong to this universe.
***
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