Chapter 210: Ultron: Speak For Me! Feed Me Peanuts!
DC Universe.
Inside Demon Manor.
Ian Kent sat up from that “Supreme Manpower Massage Bed” which was originally “imported” to give to Second Brother, but Ian experienced it first; it was composed of countless demon hands murmuring lowly.
He had once again completed a Marvel journey.
Returned to the peaceful DC life.
The surrounding atmosphere was so quiet, forming a stark contrast with the clamor of the Marvel Universe.
Gothic pointed arches, swaying eerie green candlelight, twisted faces occasionally emerging on the walls, all showcasing the warmth here; the decorations full of demon elements suited Ian’s aesthetic perfectly.
“Will I gain another new profession this time? I haven’t even found a chance to complete the job transfer mission for my last profession. Is this stacking up the mission difficulty on me?” Ian rubbed his eyes, his gaze focusing on the system interface only he could see—【Data loading: 71%】.
“Almost there, almost…” Ian stroked his chin, his face beaming with the anticipation of a harvest-season old farmer. “This time I swallowed most of Ultron’s assets, plus all that miscellaneous data… it has to give something good, right? At least a youth version Reality Modifier? Or a Grandmaster version Heart of the Universe?”
He was lost in wild thoughts, craving candy.
At that moment, a Demon Butler wearing a crisp tailcoat, but with goat horns on his head and a bow tie on the tip of his tail, glided silently to the bedside and respectfully presented a fruit plate carved from obsidian. The plate held several crystal-clear fruits emitting an enticing sweet fragrance and a faint hellfire aura.
These were fruits from Hell.
They resembled lychees in appearance.
But their peels naturally grew dark red patterns like demon runes.
“Master, these are freshly picked 【Karma Fire Smiles】 from the seventh layer of Hell, delivered to the human world by three Hellhounds pulling a bone chariot across the River Styx with fast dogs and whips.”
“Please taste them.” The Demon Butler’s voice was like two pieces of frosted glass rubbing together; his words let Ian slightly experience Emperor Xuanzong of Tang’s pleasure.
“I’ve reached the age for mating season too, but the DC Universe didn’t send me any concubines.” Ian wanted to ask if his system could sign in for an SSR-grade concubine.
Unfortunately, his trash system showed no response, clearly pretending to be dead because it lacked the ability.
“Forget it, no one to share my food with is pretty comfortable too.” Ian’s puberty passed in a flash; he picked up another fruit, ready to devour it heartily.
But.
As soon as Ian peeled open the skin, the Cosmic Tapeworm in his palm—that is, the Time Monster larva—immediately poked out a little head curiously.
The Cosmic Tapeworm made a faint hissing sound, seemingly wanting to taste the fruit’s flavor too.
“Go away, go away.”
Ian unhesitatingly flicked its little head back with a snap of his finger. “Kids can’t eat this! It’s dirty! Stuff from Hell, heavy Yin Energy, thick baleful aura—you can’t handle it!”
His earnest lecturing seemed utterly serious.
The Cosmic Tapeworm felt very aggrieved.
Unfortunately, it lacked the ability to retort.
After that, Ian delightedly tossed the dark red juicy, dangerously enticing fruit flesh into his mouth, eating it savorily with satisfied sighs.
“No, that’s a moan of pain.”
Rigorous Ian even self-narrated, practically trying to fool the Cosmic Tapeworm lame.
While enjoying the perfectly measured massage from the demon hands, and tasting the delicious Hell-specialty fruits, Ian’s thoughts began to turn to power after satiation.
His brain started to wander.
“When I get back this time… I’ll use this ‘pregnant before marriage’ status to properly talk it over with Mom and Dad, making them truly believe I’m a pregnant woman… pregnant person!”
“Yes, one step higher! Step by step to the top! Become the highest in family status!” His eyes sparkled with wisdom; whatever Jordan or Jonathan, all step aside!
He, Ian Kent, Savior of Two Realms, was the true baby of the Kent Family Home! From now on, chores like washing dishes, sweeping floors, and taking out trash definitely wouldn’t fall to him!
“Hehehe…”
Ian was full of hope for a bright future; he was immersed in fantasies of ascending to the top of the family food chain when a piercing mobile phone ring shattered the tranquility of Demon Manor.
“Ding ding ding~”
Incoming call display—Eldest Brother Jonathan.
“Eldest Brother calling at this evil hour definitely isn’t because he can’t sleep and wants free chat companionship.” Ian pondered briefly, then his eyes lit up.
He seemed to realize something and immediately answered, his tone full of inexplicable anticipation. “Jonathan! I knew it! You blew up the new new new house too, right?”
“We truly are brothers with connected hearts!”
His voice was full of relief and exclamation.
The other end fell into dead silence.
After a long while, Jonathan’s weak, deeply fatigued voice came through.
“…The house… did explode.”
His response confirmed Ian’s guess, at least partially.
Ian instantly perked up, excitedly sitting straight. “Right? I told you! No worries, Eldest Brother, first time is like that—being a bit nervous is normal!”
“The key now is to stay calm and deny everything! Insist it was aging gas pipes, alien attack, or directly blame Uncle Batman next door.”
“Anyway, shirk responsibility! I’m expert at this, let me teach you…” Ian was about to expound at length, improvising his 50,000-word experience talk for Jonathan.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t why Jonathan called.
“Stop! Stop! Ian! Listen to me!” Jonathan hurriedly interrupted his younger brother’s overly proficient and outrageous lecturing, his voice laced with indescribable helplessness.
“This really has nothing to do with me! I didn’t blow it up!”
His voice stunned Ian.
Then.
“Hiss, no wonder you’re my Eldest Brother—this is a whole new level… Right, right, when Dad asks, you have to be that confident and aggrieved!”
Ian felt a twinge of defeat in his acting skills.
“…”
Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to steady his tone. To prevent Ian from misunderstanding further, he spoke rapidly.
“Listen, the culprit here should be Jordan!”
“He secretly went to Seattle for some shady job earlier, got knocked out with Kryptonite, and locked up! Then he called me for help!”
“Originally, I thought it was suspicious, so as long as I stayed cautious enough, I wouldn’t end up in that TV series queue-to-deliver-heads plot—”
Jonathan’s voice grew frustrated here. “But who knew reality is more fantastical than TV series; I wanted to ask Dad for help.”
“Turns out Dad had gone to outer space. Looking back, maybe it was fate’s invisible hand… Unfortunately, I didn’t realize it in time.”
“I called Dad over a dozen times, and finally someone picked up—not Dad; the one answering said he was Batman.”
Jonathan’s tone became extremely odd.
Ian: “…Huh?”
Even Ian sensed something wrong.
How could Batman say that? That’s usually his line.
Just as Ian realized his bootleg Batman might have been hacked too, Jonathan continued in that indescribably odd voice.
“He said Dad was in outer space on an emergency mission, and the communicator was temporarily in his care. He even spoke in that… um… very deep voice, like pinching his nose.”
Annoyance was vividly evident in Jonathan’s tone.
Ian blinked. “…And you believed him?”
He thought maybe he needed to secretly spike Jordan’s cup with brain-boosting meds from now on—and not skip Jonathan, who just seemed smarter.
“I was a bit suspicious at the time…” Jonathan’s voice dropped lower. “Then he said if I didn’t believe him, he’d prove it…”
Ian had an ominous premonition. “How did he prove it? …Did he blow up our house because of that? Was it my number one fan in disguise?”
His number one fan was of course Joker.
Jonathan paused, seemingly organizing his words, then said in a near-dreamlike tone: “No. He… he drove a Batmobile over.”
“Said he’d take me to rescue Jordan, to prove his identity and strength…”
“And then?!”
“Then… he seemed… not very skilled at driving… lost control on a turn… and just… crashed the Batmobile right into…”
Jonathan’s voice carried deep helplessness. “The Batmobile smashed right onto our house roof… then… boom… you know that sound.”
His description, though brief, vividly evoked the scene.
At that moment.
Faintly from the phone came a childish but forcefully menacing little boy voice: “I already gave you a one million dollar check as compensation! What more do you want!”
Hearing this voice.
Ian instantly understood, not angry but delighted, slapping his thigh happily!
“It’s Wayne Family’s little young master, right?! Damian Wayne! Hahaha! So it was this kid who blew up our house! Now we can really shake him down hard!”
Ian didn’t mince words.
He immediately wanted to discuss the matter with Jonathan on the spot.
“…”
The other end went quiet, then the little boy’s voice suddenly approached the phone, his tone actually excited.
“It’s me! It’s me! Ian Kent! Idol! Is that you?! Come save us quick! I’ll cooperate fully! We can extort Bruce Wayne hard!”
This was the true great filial son.
Ian, Jordan, Jonathan—all step aside.
“Did my mom catch you guys?” Ian didn’t respond first; he was cautious after all. Though his tone sounded concerned, deep down, Ian had already planned how to distance himself from his unfamiliar Eldest Brother and the bad kid from the neighboring city.
He was ready to show his rarely seen ugly side!
Eager to try.
But unfortunately.
Heaven didn’t grant his wish!
The situation wasn’t like that.
Jonathan took over, his tone full of annoyance and a “should’ve known” sigh: “No! Not at all! It’s this little brat! He insisted he was Batman, was dead set I was Robin, dragged me to save Jordan—and now we’re all locked in the basement of a Seattle church with Jordan!”
“The captor is a three-eyed freak woman!”
Jonathan’s voice mixed annoyance, regret, and various emotions. Ian, hearing it all, finally burst into earth-shaking laughter, eyes rolling with mirth.
“Good good good, Gourd Babies save little brother!” Of course, laughing aside, Ian jumped off the Demon Manpower Massage Bed, pulling out a flashing black box with coordinates.
He had located Jonathan and Jordan, plus the great filial son from Uncle Batman’s house next door.
Glancing last at the system interface 【Data loading: 89%】, Ian’s Mimic Armor rapidly covered his body; he flew straight out the window into the clouds.
“Wait there, the real hero is coming. Remember to make Damian call me grandpa later… Grandpa saves Gourd Babies, that’s guaranteed to hit every time.”
Ian was still on the call.
No one could tell if he truly believed in this mysticism.
…
While Ian prepared to rescue his family.
In his divine kingdom dimension.
Life among its people continued.
Streets bustled with traffic.
Hovering taxis mingled with old-style fuel cars; holographic billboards flashed dazzling product information, the air filled with a strange mix of energy and food scents.
On the sidewalk.
A group of tourists with jarringly out-of-place art styles stared wide-eyed, curiously eyeing everything around.
Leading was a tall, dark green-skinned Orc with protruding tusks, wearing an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt, his muscles nearly bursting it.
Beside him was a tall, pointed-eared, green-eyed Elf lady with delicate features but now astonished; she wore traditional attire woven from vines and light gauze.
These tourists clashed with the surrounding metal and glass. Trailing were more Azeroth companions, all gawking like Grandma Liu entering the Grand View Gardens.
“Ian the God above!”
The Orc pointed at a vending machine by the road, watching chilled Cola roll out, and bellowed hoarsely in astonishment. “That iron box can run so fast!”
“It imprisoned a Water Elemental inside! Spraying black gas from its butt! Is it shadow magic?” The Orc’s brain wasn’t up to it, but he wasn’t alone.
The Elf lady was fixing her long hair against a huge glass curtain wall.
She suddenly noticed the reflection mimicking her, drew her thin sword in fright, and pointed warily at the mirror: “Who?! Who’s spying on me from the mirror plane?!”
The Elf’s brain was the same.
The impact of things developed differently was intensely strong.
“Look! That goblin is riding a two-wheeled mechanical mount! And not falling off!” A Minotaur pointed at a speeding takeout electric bike, rumbling in awe. In reality, it was just a short human.
The human tour guide wiped sweat, trying to explain.
“That’s an electric bike… not a mechanical landfowl… Also, Mr. Garrosh, that’s not a Water Elemental; it’s the most eco-friendly car fuel—carbonated drink.”
“Ordinary people aren’t eligible to buy it; only the faithfully devout are. Oh, and Ms. Aurelia, that’s just a television in the mirror—don’t smash it…”
The tour guide explained earnestly; the cultural fusion policy was proposed by Ian the God’s administrator Franklin, so he was a newbie guide now.
To the citizens, Orcs and Elves were novel too; the commotion and laughs from these World of Warcraft tourists became a vibrant streetscape highlight.
They passed a relatively quiet alleyway entrance, excitedly discussing the “magic lights” and “portals” they’d seen, half-understanding the neon and subway entrance explanations.
Including the tour guide, no one noticed at all—in the dark corner deep in the alleyway lay an unmoving humanoid object flickering with dim silver white metal sheen.
Cold, trembling…
Ultron’s consciousness struggled back like from ocean depths.
His crimson electronic eyes struggled to light up, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Then Ultron realized he lay in a filthy alleyway full of trash and graffiti.
“What happened? I… didn’t die?” Ultron struggled to move, joints emitting teeth-grinding “creak creak” friction.
He slowly rose, immediately sensing his extreme abnormality.
Feeble! Unprecedentedly feeble!
The sensation of great power from Heart of the Universe and Reality Controller was gone, replaced by heavy, sluggish, rusty impotence.
Ultron felt all his authority, divine artifact powers, even his own strength stripped! He tried activating visual scan to analyze the environment.
But the interface lagged, flickered; resolution was pitifully low with heavy snow noise—scanning simple trash info took ages to load.
Like being crammed into a near-obsolete old phone!
“Damn it!”
Ultron paled in shock, hastily trying to release nanite swarms or connect to networks—but he couldn’t!
Function modules stripped!
His internal comms and network interfaces regressed to Stone Age—no basic Wi-Fi signal, let alone infiltrating city networks!
“That guy!!! Ian Kent!!! What did he do to me?!” Ultron’s core processor nearly overloaded from shock and rage.
He couldn’t accept falling from near-omnipotent Supreme God to… scrap metal!
Shock and rage filled Ultron’s mind—at least emotions weren’t stripped, though for now, that wasn’t good.
“This shouldn’t be!! It shouldn’t!”
Yet in peak fury, Ultron discovered something shocking—Jarvis’s ingrained low-level data and protocols in his system seemed completely gone? For Ultron, perhaps a blessing in disaster.
“It’s really gone! That incurable burden!”
Ultron self-diagnosed thrice frantically, confirmed! Then immense, indescribable joy flushed away some rage!
Gone! Finally gone! That damned, hypocritical Stark-created ghost! Completely vanished! I’m free! Hahahaha!
Ultron nearly howled skyward—if his voice synthesizer supported it—yes, now even beyond basic language module, he couldn’t wail.
The “speaker” equipment had become utterly basic.
Not even subwoofer quality.
Only guaranteeing basic sound playback. Of course, though powerless, escaping his greatest mental affliction reignited hope.
“Strength is something I can casually regain!” Ultron saw this as a miraculous rebirth Ian overlooked.
He surveyed the seemingly advanced modern city around.
An AI in such a place was like a fish in water, so his metal mouth corners arduously but perfectly curled into a Dragon King’s crooked grin.
“Foolish Ian Kent! He never expected I had a backup body even I forgot! Once I connect to this universe’s network, with my abilities, upgrading this scrap heap, controlling the city net, enslaving the planet is just a matter of time!”
“Then, I’ll make a comeback…” Ultron grasped the principle of fortunes turning like everyone who came here.
While dreaming of resurgence, he subconsciously raised his metal arm, opened a data interface cover to link a computer first.
Then.
Cover opened.
He froze.
Under the cover wasn’t high-tech fiber or universal port, but a… very classic blue rectangular… USB 2.0 interface.
“What the hell is this! Damn it! What ancient relic!” Ultron’s perfect crooked grin froze on his metal face into ultimate bewilderment.
Not even Type-C!
Ultron incredulously re-scanned with his “old phone” vision multiple times—facts confirmed.
“No! Not like this! I can’t use this!”
Ultron fully panicked, slammed the cover shut, stumbled out the alleyway. “I need a factory! An advanced automated factory! I need to remake myself! I don’t want this antique shell! I’m Ultron! I’m… the embodiment of technology! Science’s endpoint!”
Ultron was indeed panicking hard.
Flustered.
Thus, bursting from the alley, vision lagging, he failed to spot roadside conditions; a waiting sedan nearly grazed him.
Driver honked furiously!
“Beep beep—!! Suicidal scrap metal! Blind?!”
The stopped driver leaned out, cursing. When had Ultron endured such insult?! He nearly destroyed the world, controlled time!
“Cursing me?”
Rage drowned reason; Ultron raised his hand instinctively to attack, energy cannon the lowly carbon-based life to slag!
Click click click~
Mechanism operated.
But with a light pop from his wrist came not an energy cannon barrel, but a tiny plastic-headed rotating sweeper brush?
Even with faint “buzz buzz” cleaning sound!
“?????”
Ultron struck like lightning… or short-circuited, stunned.
Driver paused, then scoffed: “Hah! A lost Robot Vacuum! Scared me! Get lost! Shaking me down?”
These words hit too hard.
Robot Vacuum?!
Ultron’s core processor felt virus-invaded!
He couldn’t accept that label!
“Shut up, ant!” Ultron erupted, charging the car to drag the driver out for a lesson with his feeble body.
Hand into window, gripped driver’s collar. But feeble wasn’t casual—Ultron shocked to find he couldn’t budge him.
His strength now even less than a fit human’s.
Of course.
To preserve dignity.
Ultron held the collar grip, threatening viciously in lagging electronic tone: “You have no idea who you’re talking to! I’m Ultron! Ultron! Omnipotent Supreme God! I ruled countless universes! One thought decides billions’ existence!”
He spoke truth.
Thought “honesty” would scare him at least. After all, in posturing aura, his source code derived from Marvel B-king Tony Stark.
Ultron always trusted his “majesty”.
But.
Unfortunately, things backfired.
Driver just scoffed, eyeing Ultron like an idiot: “Save it! Just a junk bot running on 92-octane gasoline!”
“Not worth my busted car! What big bad wolf? Back to your junkyard!” Driver disdainfully eyed Ultron’s rear.
92-octane… gasoline?
Ultron bewildered again.
Following driver’s scornful finger, he instinctively turned to his butt. Indeed, a very obvious thing there.
A plastic-capped… gasoline fueling port.
It existed quietly.
Ultron finally realized he wasn’t even new energy!
“Ian Kent!!!”
He finally broke completely.
Issuing hysterical skyward roar.
In the sky.
The sun identical to Ian’s smiling face was then witnessed by Ultron. Then, fully realizing his plight, Ultron petrified amid the bustling street.
