In the void,
Jonathan Kent knelt on the shattered stellar stream.
His breathing was heavy, and sweat slid from his forehead, only to evaporate into a scarlet mist the instant it plunged into the darkness. The whispers in his ears were like ten thousand ants crawling inside his skull.
It was impossible to resist.
Like a deeply rooted affliction.
Hearing it felt like the dull ache of having his cranium sawed open with a rusty scalpel.
"Get out!"
At his roar, a faint light seemed about to illuminate his surroundings, yet it still couldn't penetrate the layers upon layers of darkness to drag him back from this eerie, ominous place to reality.
A feeling of powerlessness washed over him.
"Someone please help me..."
The tormented Jonathan wanted to cry for help,
but he received no response.
Only the sound of his own heartbeat echoed in the void.
"Why reject such an opportunity? Is it due to the ignorance of a meta-human brain that cannot be awakened?" The voice mocked. Jonathan clenched his jaw, his fingernails digging deep into his palms.
"Clark Kent is strong, isn't he? He is the all-powerful Superman, as you call him." The invisible voice suddenly softened, like a kind elder.
However,
as the final word dragged out, Jonathan could hear countless drowned souls shrieking within the sound waves, like wails sealed in coral reefs, transmitted across billions of years of seawater.
"Yet, even the most powerful life will eventually perish."
A cacophony of chaos and madness seemed to explode in Jonathan's ears at this moment.
Carrying an indescribable noise.
Countless illusory yet realistic-looking bubbles appeared.
They shimmered before Jonathan's eyes, completely surrounding his body. Jonathan tried to dodge, but one of the bubbles enveloped him, and he instantly appeared in what felt like a new world.
The scene that greeted him terrified Jonathan.
He saw it.
He saw Kryptonite chains piercing his father Clark's collarbone, hanging him on the remnant of a rusty satellite. Lex Luthor, dressed in a presidential uniform, slowly and meticulously peeled off the "S" emblem of the blue battle suit with a scalpel.
"Look, citizens,"
He aimed at the live broadcast camera, holding up the bloody cloth, his tone scornful.
"Your so-called god is nothing but a piece of bleeding flesh."
Amidst the thunderous cheers,
Jonathan, standing in the plaza below, wanted to rush forward but was forcibly held down by soldiers along the way, made to watch the entire spectacle. The scene instantly vanished amidst his furious roar.
"Did you see it?"
The voice sounded again.
"You are trying to deceive my mind!"
Jonathan turned to flee, but crashed into another scene, a charred farmland with half a Kryptonian crystal sticking out of the ground, and Lois's decaying fingers still clutching the alarm button.
A hulking, intimidating black alien slowly approached. Its shadow gradually enveloped a brand-new baby carriage, and the crying of the brown-haired, blue-eyed infant inside abruptly stopped.
"Ian!"
Jonathan rushed forward.
His hands only embraced a phantom of nothingness.
He saw the baby carriage was completely scorched. The hulking alien held Clark's pained head in its hands, and Jordan lay dead in a pile of hay not far from his mother, Lois.
"Fake! It's all fake! You won't trick me! Stop!" Unwilling to accept this scene, Jonathan desperately backed away, stumbling directly into a complex, chaotic, and interweaving sequence of scenes.
"Why stop? This isn't a threat, this is destiny—countless possible destinies." The voice chuckled, colors surging, and more terrifying images flooded toward Jonathan like a tide.
Superman's chest was pierced by a gigantic, hideous monster, causing his complete demise. He was mutated into a war machine by a terrifying green brute. There was even Clark personally killing his wife, Lois.
Each scene was more unacceptable to Jonathan than the last.
He fled everywhere,
yet there was no escape.
He was continuously forced to witness more scenarios.
"No..."
Jonathan finally couldn't bear it anymore. His will collapsing, he slumped onto the ground. He saw Clark, eyes blazing red, walking toward him, as if about to twist off his head in the next second.
"They are all potential futures."
The voice reappeared, constantly shifting. The chaotic symphony gradually disappeared. Jonathan saw the Superman in front of him dissipate like smoke, and everything was instantly enveloped by a harmonious and joyful scene.
The sunset dyed the Kent family barn golden.
In the distance, Sam Lane's Ferrari drove into the driveway, its roof tied with exaggerated birthday balloons—the words "Happy 100th Birthday to Myself" swaying in the wind.
Grandma Martha was also sitting on top, laughing merrily.
"Look at your father-in-law, how much has he embezzled this time."
Clark sat on the porch rocking chair, his temples already graying, but his smile was still warm. An album was spread across his lap. Lois leaned against his shoulder, her finger gently pointing at a photo, and they both burst out laughing. In the yard, adult Jordan and Ian were repairing the talking Hellcat.
It was now painted red and blue, with a crooked "S" emblem on the hood.
"Can you stop using Heat Vision to weld the screws?"
Jordan complained.
"Last time, you just melted right through the fuel tank!"
His tone was resentful.
"No, that was your nephew who did that, not me. If you don't believe me, wait until I get back tonight and beat him up. He'll definitely admit it." Ian was just as Jonathan remembered him.
Habitually shirking blame.
He didn't even spare his own son. The Hellcat's radio suddenly played a country music song automatically. The two young men paused for a second and both looked at Jonathan, who was slumped on the ground.
"What are you waiting for? Come and help us lift this car."
With a smiling expression,
Jonathan once again felt a warm atmosphere.
And just as his mind was in disarray,
the voice suddenly pressed close to his ear.
"This is the future you want, isn't it? Now, we can help you achieve this future." The voice was full of temptation. Jonathan's pupils contracted slightly.
"This isn't just for you." Its whisper coiled around Jonathan's reason like a poisonous snake, as if adding the most crucial weight. "It's also for your... family."
The collapse of a psychological defense might happen in an instant.
After all, the Kents were all "Family Heroes." Jonathan lowered his head. Around him, the light that struggled to penetrate the darkness began to extinguish, just like the light in Jonathan's eyes gradually dimming.
"What should I do?"
The seventeen-year-old boy whispered the question.
His voice was hoarse.
The thread of light that seemed about to illuminate the world completely disappeared at this moment. But even with his eyes closed, Jonathan could still feel that the entity emerging in the darkness was getting closer and closer to him.
In the void,
something laughed.
Darkness, like viscous oil, flowed past Jonathan's ankles.
"You only need to... accept us!"
In this instant,
Jonathan seemed to see countless phantom shadows reflected in his eyes. He screamed, but only sat up abruptly from his bed, cold sweat soaking his pajamas and penetrating his sheets.
His heart pounded wildly,
as if it would burst from his chest.
"What did I dream of!"
Back in reality, Jonathan couldn't remember what he had seen. He desperately tried to recall, but only fragmented pieces came back, not even enough to piece together a complete piece of information.
"There must be something, something very important." Jonathan's subconscious was frantically alerting him, but everything in the dream seemed to have been forcibly dug out of his memory by some force.
"This is..."
Jonathan frowned and gasped for air.
He stood up,
and noticed something had fallen from his quilt to the floor.
"Hmm?"
Meanwhile,
Clark also suddenly woke up from the sofa downstairs.
At this moment, his super hearing picked up an unusual sound from the second floor. It wasn't Ian's room's "torture talk," nor was it the annoying movement of Jordan, who liked to grasp a certain vital part while sleeping and unconsciously exert Super Speed. Instead, it was a viscous sound, as if something was chewing.
"Knock knock knock~"
Clark appeared instantly at his eldest son's door.
He knocked on the door.
"Jonathan, are you alright?" Clark Kent asked in the manner of a normal father, inquiring about his son's well-being, even though he could see what was happening inside if he wished.
"I'm fine. I just had a nightmare. I can't remember what it was, but it must have been pretty scary." Jonathan was changing his sheets and clothes in the room.
He still couldn't recall the events of the dream, and even the fragments he remembered upon waking were gradually fading. This often happens when people dream, so he didn't suspect anything unusual.
"You weren't peeking, were you?" Jonathan could imagine his father standing in the hallway—frowning slightly, his super hearing catching the subtle changes in his heart rate, breathing, and blood flow.
"If it's not needed, of course not. Would you like some hot chocolate?"
Clark was still outside the door.
"No thanks. I still need to cut fat, Dad. You know a good physique is important for a football player." Jonathan walked over to his desk.
Lying on it was a book he had just picked up from the floor.
Perhaps Clark truly hadn't been peeking.
Otherwise, Jonathan felt he would have been asked what strange thing he was looking at on his desk. Of course, could it be that only he could see this book?
Jonathan frowned.
"Alright, let me know if you need any help." The father's voice was impossibly gentle. His footsteps gradually faded away, the wooden floor giving a faint creak.
It was somewhat intentional.
However, Jonathan didn't think much of it. His attention was focused on the mysteriously appearing book. He swore he hadn't bought anything like this. The bizarre patterns on it were quite unsettling.
To call it a book,
it looked more like an old leather notebook. It appeared thin, and there was no writing inside. Jonathan turned on the light and clearly saw the name on the cover.
"Death Note?"
He softly read out the crooked, scrawled letters. The handwriting looked like a child's graffiti or clumsy writing drawn by someone who hadn't learned to write properly.
"This handwriting is uglier than Ian's chicken scratch."
Jonathan complained while opening the mysterious notebook. He realized he had been mistaken just now, there was at least one line of text on the first page of this blank notebook.
[We can help you conquer death]
The dark red script was still crooked.
The light flickered suddenly.
The next moment,
[I can help you conquer death]
The text on the first page seemed to have changed slightly. Jonathan wasn't sure if the change was his imagination, as his mind was still jumbled from waking up from the nightmare.
"Who put this in my room? Jordan or Ian? It's not April Fool's Day yet..." The stillness of the night enveloped Jonathan's room, broken only by the occasional sound of the wind outside the window.
Under the dim desk lamp, Jonathan sat at his desk, his fingers gently turning the pages of the ominous notebook. He felt like he was being watched, but a glance around revealed nothing.
The room was empty. The wardrobe was tightly closed, the curtains were motionless, and even the shadows lay quietly on the floor. There was no sign of abnormality, but the feeling of being watched persisted.
It felt like something was standing right in front of him but refused to be captured by his senses. This made Jonathan feel unnerved, and he quickly threw the notebook he had been examining back onto the desk.
"This is spooky..."
Jonathan planned to throw this notebook away tomorrow. When he lay back on the bed, he looked around again, confirming that there were no other figures in his room.
The feeling of being watched gradually subsided, allowing Jonathan to fall back into a deep sleep. Outside the window, the moonlight was fragmented by the clouds, casting dappled light onto the wooden desk.
The black notebook lay there quietly.
Countless dark red tentacles began to slowly extend from within it. They seemed displaced from reality, existing only in an invisible world, unable to be observed or seen by normal vision.
Information was being sensed and read.
The air in the entire room began to vibrate. The shadows on the walls wriggled like living things, and the folds in the bedsheets deepened without cause. Yet, Jonathan only turned over in his sleep.
He didn't notice this strange phenomenon.
Clark didn't appear either.
And at this moment,
[Guten Abend, gute Nacht~ (Good evening, good night)]
[mit Rosen bedacht~ (Adorned with roses)]
[mit Nglein besteckt~ (Embroidered with cloves)]
[schlupf' unter die Deck~ (Slip beneath the covers)]
Outside the window,
the Hellcat's radio suddenly began playing the famous German lullaby.
It didn't disturb anyone's sweet dreams.
However,
at this moment,
the tentacles that had cautiously extended from the black notebook, as if startled by the sudden sound, retracted back into the notebook.
It was as if nothing had happened.
Silence and peace returned to the room.
Perhaps,
they were afraid of being discovered.
They didn't want to be perceived.
The infiltration of one world into another needed to be silent. Therefore, this power, which had not yet grown strong, could only retreat back into the notebook used to conceal itself.
This behavior was clearly very bizarre.
It was as if some evil, unwilling to be discovered, was donning those seemingly harmless husks in an attempt to hide its much darker and deeper—sinister nature.
...
Nightmare World.
Marvel Universe.
Ian slowly opened his eyes. He had once again completed the cosmic leap, moving from his beloved DC Universe to the Marvel Universe, which probably loved him very much.
"Locking me with an invincibility cheat, yet not hindering me from smuggling things over, truly a secret admirer." Ian's [Law of Secret Admiration] was still in effect. He looked down at the magical book in his hand.
The name of the book had warped and changed the instant he entered this world, transforming from the original [Ian's Grimoire] to [Ian's Most Beloved Grimoire].
It hadn't been with Ian for very long,
but it seemed to have grasped the essence. Ian naturally had to criticize this blatant attempt to imitate, and then appropriately encourage it to keep up the good work.
He thought the change in the book's name might be related to the Minotaur Demon's misconception during its first smuggling experience. Having a universe inside one's body was always easily misunderstood by demons.
"Don't worry, I'm not a Dimensional Demon Lord... Don't be afraid. I generally don't eat books. In fact, I cherish books the most." After Ian's reassurance, two sparkling heart symbols immediately popped out of the book's cover. They emerged from the eyes of the yellow smiley face on the cover, and Ian had to use all his strength to push the hearts back in.
"Damn it! Another secret admirer!"
Ian didn't have time to wrestle with the book in his hand because when he looked up, he saw Galactus—the colossal, cosmic entity that once towered into the clouds had now completely fallen.
The sky was once again the color of countless swirling dark clouds, like a curtain soaked in poor-quality dye. Galactus, whose fall had previously been abnormally slow, now lay prone on the ground.
The booming sound of breaking metal constantly echoed in the distance.
"Someone must be trying to carve up a god but forgot to invite me!" Ian quickly sprang into action. Like an agile rabbit, he ran a few steps and leaped dozens of meters high.
He reassured himself that he was only one level away from perfection while using the [Ai's Victory Method] to pretend he was flying. This was not embarrassing, he remembered that one version of Superman in the DC Universe started flying this way.
And honestly, it was much faster than just running on the snow or butt-sliding on the ice. As long as his head was hard enough, he could collide with things like road signs or iron railings on tall buildings, quickly grab them to gain momentum, and launch himself forward another distance—the essence of Spider-Man was nothing more than this.
Ian felt he had become proficient without instruction at this moment.
The closer he got to the city center,
the clearer Ian could see.
Galactus—the cosmic being that once soared into the clouds—now lay in the typical posture of someone who had kicked the bucket. Its massive body stretched across the horizon like a collapsed mountain range.
Moreover,
it was being "dismembered."
Ian had always felt that few people knew that Galactus was actually flesh and blood, a type of super-cosmic human species, rather than being born with that heavy suit of armor.
Now, countless soldiers and scientific researchers swarmed over its body like ants.
There were tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of people.
There were truly many people. Ian had never seen so many living people in this world before. They were using laser cutters, quantum stripping machines, and tools that clearly looked like black technology to dismantle Galactus's armor piece by piece—these black technology tools might not even be named by the most advanced scientists in the DC Universe.
"Plasma Cutter, Supernatural Divider..."
As for why Ian recognized some of the tools, it was, of course, because the names he had just mentioned were products of Ian's spontaneous guessing based on appearance.
Pure fabrication.
Completely devoid of academic knowledge.
In any case, a group of "resurrected" scientists were dismembering the massive Galactus with technological artifacts, which was somewhat beyond Ian's understanding of technology.
"As expected of Tony God, the Omniscience Machine!"
Ian sincerely exclaimed. He had reached the vicinity of where Galactus had fallen. It was evident that the Assembled Corpse League had assisted when this guy fell. Otherwise, given that Galactus's head alone occupied the entire city center, the city and even the surrounding areas should have been smashed into ruins.
However, the area destroyed by Galactus was not large.
External intervention was clearly involved.
"This must be Galactus in his near-starved state." Ian flipped in the air. Not one hundred thousand miles, but certainly one hundred and eighty meters.
He landed on a damaged high-rise building on the outskirts of the city center.
Looking forward,
the entity that once held nebulae over its head and stepped on galaxies now lay on its side in the shattered city like an eviscerated whale. Its silver and purple armor was disassembled and fragmented, revealing pale skin underneath—yes, skin. In the torn seams of the armor, pale blue blood vessels could vaguely be seen faintly pulsating.
One research team had even set up a temporary tent, holding an academic seminar around an exposed nerve ending. Ian thought this group was the true bunch of maniacs.
"Gwen, Gwen, come rate me! How many points out of ten do I look like Spider-Man?" Ian spotted an old acquaintance, so he immediately tossed himself into the air and descended straight onto Galactus's head.
At this moment,
Gwen, who was holding something in her hand, looked like she was about to accidentally fall to the ground.
"I caught you!"
Ian was overjoyed.
Because he had done something Peter Parker seemed eternally unable to do.
"Has Peter Parker been cloned? I can teach him. Guaranteed to learn." Ian pinched the back of Gwen's neck directly, lifting the stumbling Gwen back onto Galactus's head.
"Oh my God, why is it you again, you... insane boy popping up." Gwen's neck almost shrank into a lump. She was slightly startled, but at least her spine wasn't broken.
Ian was still winning.
"Shouldn't it be Amazing Boy? I saved you. Not only do you not say thank you or crown me the new Spider-Man, but you even turn around and call me crazy?"
Ian's eyes widened.
He was incredibly wronged.
Gwen vigorously patted Ian's hand, but the boy didn't let go of the back of her neck. She could feel that his strength seemed to be explosively increasing every time they met.
"Didn't you show me your psychiatric diagnosis yourself?"
The speechless Gwen rolled her eyes.
"Oh, right."
Ian instantly wasn't wronged anymore. Perhaps, according to his theory of relativity, the distress had largely transferred to Gwen, whose face looked utterly defeated as Ian held her like a kitten.
"Also, you didn't save me. Is there a possibility that I actually wanted to jump down and smash myself to death?" It was hard to imagine what kind of mental state Gwen was in to say something so nonchalant about life and death.
Perhaps she was focused on efficiency?
She pointed to several giant square machines not far away, which were continuously "printing" out new bodies—flesh, bones, and uniforms, all formed in five seconds.
"Oh, alright."
Ian seemed to understand. He looked at Gwen's hand, which wore a special glove, allowing her to tightly grip a golden yellow Infinity Stone symbolizing the power of the Mind.
"Did you steal that from my Uncle Galactus?"
Ian looked around. Galactus's head was intact, and he couldn't find any place where a gem could be pried off. The only places they could explore were two cavernous holes on the face of Galactus where they were standing.
They were his nostrils.
Not even his mouth,
because Galactus's mouth was tightly shut.
"It's called retrieving... Hurry up and let me down. Energy is limited, resources are limited. This glove won't last long." There were indeed signs of cracking on the glove in Gwen's hand.
"Oh, oh, okay."
Ian wasn't the type to interfere.
He carried Gwen to the edge of Galactus's head and gently released her. Gwen immediately fell, smashing into a shape that would be unlikely to be seen in many versions of Spider-Man stories.
Face-first, after all.
It didn't fit the visual design of a beautiful death.
"This thing shouldn't break, right?"
Staff nearby quickly rushed forward to collect the Mind Stone in a container.
Meanwhile,
A few seconds later, another machine opened with a "ding," and a brand new Gwen stepped out. She dusted off non-existent dirt from her suit and even massaged the back of her neck, which was no longer sore.
"Seriously, have you ever been a superhero? You just mess around with some moves, just assuming things?" Gwen pointed to the back of her neck. "Have you ever seen a superhero rescue someone by grabbing them here?!"
She was very helpless.
She felt Ian needed guidance.
However,
"My dad always grabs me like that when he catches me. He's the strongest superhero where I come from... That's why I'm following suit."
Ian's Super Brain could always come up with the most plausible explanation for him.
"..."
Gwen opened her mouth, suddenly speechless. She had seen rich kids show off their dads, their sports cars, their prestigious schools, and even their superpowers, but she had never seen the "Dads" competition lane curve into the superhero sector.
Superhero Dad?
Super-son?
This touched upon Gwen's knowledge blind spot.
"I don't believe your dad would teach you to save people like that." In her frustration, Gwen could only use her professional judgment to assert that Ian's behavior was definitely not a standard rescue method.
"You don't have a bio-force field, you wouldn't understand," Ian replied, shaking his head. "Also, my dad didn't teach me this. I was just profoundly influenced by it."
"Of course, you could also call it childhood trauma. After all, a childhood without childhood trauma isn't perfect, just as if the elderly don't occasionally reflect on their child-rearing, they are highly susceptible to the infringement of Alzheimer's—see? Win-win. I have a complete childhood, and my dad will have a perfect old age."
"I believe reflecting on child-rearing in the future can occasionally help him prevent Alzheimer's..." Having worn the Batman suit, people influenced by Batman are like this, they possess a level of foresight that others cannot understand. Gwen's eyes widened with every word Ian spoke.
The logic sounded somewhat sound.
But the more she thought about it, the stranger it became.
"What nonsense are you talking about..."
Gwen wasn't successfully convinced by Ian like Madison. She just felt her linguistic skills were inadequate for refutation, but deep down, she knew there was a big problem with Ian's logic.
As for what the problem was,
she would have to go back and let Tony analyze it.
Only Tony could clearly tell her what kind of Great Filial Son this was, and only Tony's true wisdom could cope with this incredibly bizarre boy.
No.
Sometimes Tony seemed to be silenced too, but that must have been only because a large amount of Tony's computational power was occupied. Now that some computational power was freed up, he could definitely handle this with ease!
Gwen was full of faith in the wise Tony God.
"Tony has already prepared the corpses you asked for. Perhaps you can go find him now." Gwen didn't want to be distracted by Ian, as she had to receive the final Infinity Stone soon.
Today,
the entire universe would face its most important moment.
If it weren't for what Tony had said before, Gwen would actually prefer to arrest Ian, or at least temporarily lead him somewhere else, because she truly didn't want any variables during such a crucial moment.
[Higher than me, higher than you, higher than this base, higher than... everything.] To this day, neither Gwen nor Betty had been able to figure out the meaning behind Tony's words.
"Is it Sentry? Or Omniman?"
Ian had no interest in dissecting a god. He was more concerned with the power he could obtain. As soon as Gwen mentioned the corpses, his eyes instantly lit up like light bulbs.
"Both are available."
Gwen pushed a bicycle out of a nearby box. It was hard to imagine that with the technological means to dismember Galactus, they still relied on such a primitive mode of transportation for movement.
She didn't know the reason.
Of course,
Ian wasn't curious about that problem right now.
"Good, good, good! As expected of my teacher, Tony God, the Omniscience Machine!" Ian instantly became excited. His choice of title made Gwen look confused, as if she had missed something.
She looked like she wanted to speak,
but Gwen ultimately chose not to ask.
"Wait for me for a moment."
Although Omniman and Sentry occupied Ian's mind, he hadn't forgotten the reason he came here. Under Gwen's gaze, he quickly darted into Galactus's nostril.
After a while,
"What did you do?"
A bewildered Gwen watched Ian emerge with a delighted expression.
"High-end exploration often involves entering the most primitive caves. Don't ask. If you must ask, it's not suitable for juniors... or maidens." Ian wiped his hands with a tissue.
He had just paid his respects to Galactus's Super Brain.
His assessment was that it was inferior to his own.
[You have come into contact with unknown extraordinary substances. A new profession template has been unlocked. You may obtain a corrected extraordinary profession—Lord of Entropy—by meeting the essential requirements for the profession.]
Of course,
this was Ian's true goal.
The harvest had even exceeded Ian's expectations. His mention of the Sentry Rebirth comic hadn't even been made public yet, but the profession template was still unlocked smoothly.
A little strange?
Ian looked at his profession panel.
[Writer LV2 (3/20)]
Perhaps it wasn't too strange after all.