Chapter 197: Let Me Go Enlighten The Darkness?
Madison and Jordan’s behavior and the oddities they encountered.
It’s hard to say if there’s any other force behind it.
Sometimes, in life that nourishes silently, many ideas people think are their own are likely guided by some invisible hand in the dark.
Of course.
This probably doesn’t include Jordan’s 【origin story】 that’s he’s creating, or rather, the masterpiece he thinks could be the new Bible?
Writing furiously was rarely embodied in Kent Family Home’s second brother who doesn’t like learning.
【Act One: The Fallen Superhero】
【Stocking Superman unfortunately died in a superhero operation against a world-ending crisis. His noble spirit moved Heaven, allowing him to ascend honorably to become a “Stocking Angel.”】
【However, due to his origin as a “human world superhero” and his battle suit’s overly avant-garde style, he was ostracized and ridiculed by the traditional conservative angel faction led by Michael, exiled to the most remote region of Heaven for guard duty, completely disregarded, enduring endless humiliation. Even female angels came forward saying he’d always be just a little angel.】
【For all living beings, to better protect the human world, Stocking Angel had no complaints about all this. He endured bitterly in Heaven year after year.】
【Act Two: The Magical Ring】
【Just as Stocking Angel was despondent, washing his face with tears daily while gazing at the human world, the mysterious ring his mother secretly slipped into his coffin when he ascended suddenly burst with brilliant light!】
【A weak but wise old man’s voice emanated from it.】
【”The kindest good child in the human world, don’t panic… I am God. Many years ago, I was ambushed by that rebellious son Lucifer, leaving only a wisp of my remnant soul hidden in this ring.”】
【The old man’s omniscient and omnipotent authority was taken, but his vision and 【God’s Seven-Day Crash Course】 remained. From then on, Stocking Angel began his path of reversal under the guidance of old God’s remnant soul.】
【Act Three: Ten hours east of the river, ten hours west!】
……
To be honest.
This is absolutely a plot even big writer Master Ian couldn’t write.
Jordan wrote with boiling blood.
Completely immersed in the grand narrative he built, feeling like he was contemporary Shakespeare, composing an epic of the divine realm with his keyboard!
He believed he had finally found the right way to contribute strength to this family, to his younger brother!
“That’s it, yes, that’s it, the story feels like it’s alive on its own.” Jordan would polish this script perfectly, then anonymously submit it to various online platforms.
He even considered self-funding a small workshop to shoot it as a low-budget web series.
As Jordan, who had successfully entered the circle, become the actor for Homelander, and stepped onto the Hollywood path, he believed he had built some connections in this industry.
It can work.
Everything is just right.
Meanwhile, far away at another school, Ian, walking in the corridor, inexplicably shivered and sneezed one after another, not knowing if someone was thinking of him.
“Ah-choo!”
Another sneeze.
Ian rubbed his nose and arrived at the school canteen.
As the school’s “invisible school bully,” wherever he went, surrounding students would subconsciously make space, so he could always quickly find a seat no matter when he came.
The entire canteen was already bustling with voices, smells of various foods mixed with teenage hormones, forming a unique cacophonous energy field.
Got his meal.
Found a good seat.
Ian also started devouring his food alone.
He seemed to carry a silent force field, naturally clearing a circle around his table, no one daring to approach this school bully famous for his “glorious deeds.”
Of course, there are still stubborn people.
Ian was buried in his lunch, also stealthily pulling out various things from his dimensional pocket that tasted like “garlic cloves” but were actually minerals.
【Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points+19】
【Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points+18】
【Entropy Annihilation Lord Experience Points+17】
Ian, immersed in his own world, looked very aloof.
But his figure always attracted specific classmates.
“Ian is over there!”
At noon, Madison usually didn’t eat at the canteen; she preferred going off-campus for some “elegant” food, which made Emily feel she had a rare chance to be alone.
“I can definitely win Ian back!” Emily Parker took a deep breath, clutching the delicate three-layer lunchbox with a kitten pattern in her arms like a sacred mission. She mustered courage, crossed the invisible “barrier,” and sat across from Ian.
The little girl’s heart pounded, her face flushed with shy redness.
“I… Ian…” Her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s, cheeks rosy, “Today… today my mom made a lot of her specialties, she… she asked me to bring some for you to try…”
Emily’s eyes full of expectation.
Ian didn’t even lift his head.
“Hm? Your mom? Could it be your mom wants some good food too, like you?” His question and surprise could only be correctly interpreted by a true old driver.
Though kids on this side of the West are relatively mature, making fifteen-year-old Emily understand Ian’s words was indeed too much for this American girl.
“My mom hopes I can eat truly healthy, additive-free food.” Emily wasn’t deterred by the perfunctory attitude; she carefully opened the first layer of the lunchbox.
A rich aroma immediately wafted out.
“Look, this is her specialty roasted ribs, made with special sauce, slow-roasted for four hours…” Emily’s voice carried expectation and pride.
Ian finally lifted his eyelid, glanced at the enticing ribs, sniffed: “But, sorry, I seem to be allergic to soy sauce.”
He wasn’t the kind of pure little boy who could be coaxed by a girl’s food.
Emily’s smile stiffened, but she quickly rallied, opening the second layer: “No… no problem! Try this! Cheese-baked lobster! Very fresh!”
The little simp continued her recommendations.
“Huh, today seems to be Tuesday; on Tuesdays I’m usually allergic to marine biological proteins.” Ian blinked, his answer making Emily’s heart even more tumultuous.
Though she didn’t understand, she still thought Ian had such personality.
“Then… then vegetable salad should be fine, right? Very healthy!” Emily’s fingers trembled slightly as she opened the third layer, revealing colorful vegetable salad.
Seeing this.
Ian’s eyes immediately widened.
“Oh no, there’s broccoli in there; broccoli I’m really… really extremely allergic to.” This time, his refusal was much more obvious than before.
“??????” Emily was dumbfounded, looking at the last layer of fragrant sandwich, almost crying: “No… no way even the sandwich makes you allergic?!”
She looked at Ian with her final expectant gaze.
“This… I’m indeed allergic too.”
Ian finally put down his strange spoon, lifted his head, looked at Emily with extremely serious eyes as if stating cosmic truth, and solemnly nodded.
“Emily, I know you’re a good girl, but I’m really too fragile, allergic to so many things, destined to become Allergy Man.”
Ian subtly rejected Emily’s overtures. Emily’s face instantly turned from red to white, then white to green. Embarrassment, grievance, disbelief intertwined, making her eyes redden instantly. She slammed the lunchbox shut with a “snap,” glared fiercely at Ian, voice choked.
“Ian! I hate you!”
Like a melancholic romance drama story, after saying it, she picked up the lunchbox and ran off without looking back, her back full of indignation; by her standards, she’d hate Ian for at least one class this time.
“Sigh.”
Ian watched Emily’s back disappear into the canteen crowd, sighed heavily; he didn’t understand why Emily couldn’t like him with just three minutes of heat like a normal American girl.
“If only everyone was like the little punk girl.” Thinking fruitlessly, Ian picked up the spoon again, continuing to enjoy his lunch that looked unappetizing but was said to be extremely nutritious.
The world was finally quiet.
Ian had time to slightly research his new profession.
While poking the blob of “mineral gel” he’d added to his food on the plate with his peculiar spoon, now slightly changing color.
He also pulled up in his mind the system interface that had been silent for a while. Since last “devouring” Belial’s bit of dark essence, this unknown system unlocked a new profession template that looked extremely high-class but also utterly abstract, remaining in inactive gray state.
At this moment, the gray interface floated in his sea of consciousness, emanating a cold yet imaginative aura.
【Inactive Profession: Lord of Blazing Ashes】
【Profession Description: You once illuminated the galaxy, also witnessed the universe’s end. Your existence is both the dawn of civilization and the twilight of the old world.】
Light should not be begged for; it should only be commanded. Indestructible light and blazing ashes burn within you, holding no justice, asking no good or evil, measuring all value by the scale of light. King of light and ashes, you shall recast eternal cosmic order in the form of incinerating all phenomena!】
【Job Transfer Mission（Not Started）】
【Mission Name: Eclipse Reversal · Fire-Stealing New Chapter】
【Mission Requirements: You must find the “Primal Dark Core” of paradoxical light in the darkest abyss. Not by force, not by reason, but with your true capacity to guide its inner Paradox, thoroughly reverse its dark essence, remold it into the Torch of Pure Light, making the Shadow of the End reignite the Radiance of First Birth.】
You shall thereby ignite the beginning of a new era.】
Dark gold and ember red intertwined patterns coiled around the mission icon.
Like stellar remnants left after burning.
Ian bit into a cookie, cream overflowing from his mouth, yet oblivious.
“Darkest abyss… Primal Dark Core… Reverse dark essence… Remold Torch of Pure Light…” He muttered softly, brain racing to figure out what this Riddler-like mission wanted him to do.
He didn’t know what this “Primal Dark Core” specifically referred to—maybe some universe’s heart of darkness, maybe some corrupted divine artifact.
Or possibly… a fallen dark deity itself.
Thinking of this.
Ian’s eyes widened.
“Hiss…”
Ian inhaled sharply, feeling his teeth ache a bit.
He stared at the mission description, brows furrowing tighter. The system never explains, only gives riddles. And this mission sounded both grand and absurd—to reverse “darkness” itself into “light”?
Not defeating darkness, not sealing darkness.
But taming darkness, making it willingly become light? The first darkness he thought of was Lucifer’s aunt, the great darkness’s personification of humanity. Could this be asking him to really educate the great darkness, thoroughly reforming her into the righteous path?
Even Ian’s Super Brain wasn’t enough.
He thought the system glitched.
With his small arms and legs, how to confront the great darkness?
“Isn’t this mission difficulty a bit outrageous? ‘Not by force, not by reason,’ still need to use my ‘capacity’ to guide the reversal of darkness?”
“Damn, who doesn’t know Master Ian has no capacity, only scale.” Ian glanced at his pants; whether in body or personality, he always had self-awareness.
Hm.
Double self-awareness.
The system seemed to egg him on to confront Lucifer’s aunt; once the thought appeared, it rooted in Ian’s mind, hard to shake.
“Can’t do it, absolutely can’t!”
Ian shook his head like a rattle.
“Lady of Darkness, though right under my estate, she’s a billion-year-old woman; this isn’t starship swatting mosquitoes, this is me using a toy water gun to extinguish the sun’s fire.” He looked crestfallen at the high-class profession description in his mind, suspecting his system was infiltrated by the shameless Lady of Darkness.
Lady of Darkness might be a weird auntie like Madam God.
The little boy suddenly felt life hard.
Ian sighed, temporarily closing the system interface. The job transfer mission was tempting, but clearly not for now; the priority was smoothly passing this rare day without major events.
Ian cherished days of daily life without big events, but just after a few bites head down, someone sat in the opposite seat again.
“Emily… you hated me for too short today.” Ian helplessly put down the spoon, looked up, but saw an unexpected face.
Sam Winchester.
The younger of the Winchester brothers duo, Lucifer’s container today wore a hoodie that looked unwashed for ages, emanating a dusty and sleep-deprived aura.
He looked much more haggard than last meeting, chin sprouting blue stubble, eye sockets sunken, those usually melancholic eyes now filled with bloodshot and thick anxiety.
“Hm?” Ian raised a brow, clearly recognizing this uninvited guest, but said nothing, just lowered his head again, chewing his lunch more vigorously, almost vengefully, as if to chew up all who disturbed his meal.
“Uh… Ian? You there?”
Sam sat there, hands on the table, his question outrageously absurd, visibly distracted, fingers unconsciously twisting together hard.
Knuckles turning white.
“Can you give me some response?”
His body leaned slightly forward, appearing restless.
Eyes glancing at Ian now and then, vigilantly scanning the noisy surroundings. This out-of-place tension made him look like a trapped beast mistakenly in a flock of sheep.
“Smack~ smack~”
Ian’s eating sounds grew louder.
Sam was stunned.
He waited a full minute, seeing Ian had no intention to ask, even eating more savorily, finally couldn’t hold back. The pent-up worry and fear found an outlet; he broke the silence first in a hoarse voice, tone carrying a faint plea.
“You… aren’t you even a bit curious why I came to find you? Why… I’m so restless?” He proactively gave Ian a topic.
Ian finally stopped his exaggerated chewing. He slowly swallowed, took a tissue with abstract patterns, and wiped his mouth.
“Okay, why are you so restless?” Ian asked cooperatively in an extremely procedural, customer service recording-like tone.
Politeness to the extreme.
Sam, as if finally permitted, sped up: “My dad John, and my brother Dean, they went to Wyoming yesterday, tracking the yellow-eyed demon’s last clue! Then… they completely lost contact!”
“All usual channels, safe house signs, even our most secret emergency contact method… all cut off! Like they vanished into thin air!”
His voice trembled with agitation, eyes bloodshot: “That’s no ordinary demon! Ian! You know! I’m worried they…”
At this point.
Sam didn’t dare say more, afraid he’d cry if he did. After all, he was a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old kid; even with Heaven-returned experience, he was at a loss.
“Hm?”
Ian, upon hearing, nodded thoughtfully, face showing apt regret, then uttered the two words most heard at funerals.
“My condolences.”
Concise, expression sincere.
Not that Ian lacked curiosity or kind nature; mainly he knew the Winchester brothers had deep ties to God—at least Sam’s eldest brother Dean wasn’t easy to kill. The Winchester duo were trouble magnets; their affairs always tangled with God’s old man’s broken plan, angel internal power struggles, Hell’s rebellions.
And Ian himself didn’t want too much involvement with God-related people—mainly fearing the Goddess of Light, God’s Madam, tracing God’s “cable” on the Winchester duo to come for him.
“No, Ian, they might not be dead yet! Just missing! Missing, you get it?! Alive, see person; dead, see corpse! Now nothing!”
Sam, like doused with ice water, hurriedly explained; he clearly didn’t know why Ian was disinterested.
“Got it, understood. Too many uncertainties, ‘my condolences’ was indeed premature. Then… ‘provisional condolences’? Assume mourning first, formalize when body found. Either way not wrong, advance or retreat justified.” Ian adapted, tone even agreeing “you make sense.”
“??????”
Sam’s face instantly turned as sullen as swallowing a whole lemon stuck in his throat. He couldn’t understand Ian’s bizarre thought process and wording.
What the hell is provisional condolences?
Can you mourn like that?
Though not first day knowing Ian, Sam clearly still unadapted. He took several deep breaths to suppress the urge to cry.
“Ian! Listen! You need to help me! Forgot the Colt Pistol you took? That’s our family heirloom, weapon that kills almost all supernatural creatures! You haven’t repaid that favor!” Sam wasn’t good at much, but hyping item value he was skilled.
Heirloom even came out.
Ian blinked, seeming to recall. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then suddenly showed an extremely professional, roadside vendor-like enthusiastic smile.
“Alright, I offer one-stop funeral services, prime Hell and Heaven real estate optional, custom reincarnation packages, second generation rich or official second gen selectable.”
“Which repayment method suits you?” Ian could really do these, but Sam clearly didn’t grasp Master Ian’s abilities.
“??????” This demon hunter second-gen’s facial muscles visibly twisted and wrinkled, like punched hard.
He lowered his voice.
Squeezed out uncontrollable choked voice through gritted teeth.
“I don’t want Dad and bro dead yet; didn’t you say you’re Angel King? You must know what happened to them.” He looked at Ian with pleading eyes.
“There are differences between Angel Kings; I’m just… um… quite non-mainstream, not very competent, usually using position perks for side gigs Angel King.”
“Whether your dad and brother are alive, I really don’t know.” Seeing this, Ian sighed too, little face scrunching.
Sam like grasping last straw.
“I have a clue, help me, please.” He knew Ian was powerful; maybe only Ian could help, hands in pleading pose.
“As an Angel King, I was worrying about saving the multiverse this morning; really inconvenient to meddle in this… saying it out sounds like cannon hitting mosquito.”
Ian spoke troubled.
Sam Winchester, seeing Ian’s impervious look, anxiety and despair nearly overflowing. He knew regular requests and favors useless on this erratic guy. Gritting teeth, like resolved, he grabbed the nearby bulging, stain-covered old backpack.
“Ian! Wait!”
Sam’s voice carried desperate urgency. He flipped the backpack mouth down, shaking hard onto the canteen dining table!
Instantly, a pile of spicy covers, sensational titles, uneven print quality magazines and books scattered, covering half the table. 《Guns and Angels》, 《Hot Hell》, 《Demon Night》… explosive titles and suggestive cover girls（ or boys） assaulted the eyes, even mixed with aged, yellowed paper, blunter “ancient treasures.”
Nearby peeking students’ eyes widened, suppressed exclamations and snickers. Canteen auntie’s soup spoon nearly dropped.
Sam’s face flushed red, but steeling himself, pointed at this “mental food” to Ian: “These… these! All my brother Dean’s private collection! All rare editions! Unfindable on market! If you help, these… all yours!”
Ian’s gaze swept the “fine, unique items,” face showing clear disgust; he shook head, righteously refusing.
“Mr. Sam Winchester! Please have some self-respect! Do I, Ian Kent, look like someone who indulges in such low tastes, needing paper stimulants for dopamine? My mental world vast as universe, no interest in such shallow physical art!”
Ian glanced around.
He even elegantly adjusted a non-existent tie, adding: “But, I can introduce my second brother Jordan to you; he seems recently interested in this… uh… ‘anthropology research materials’; he can take this deal.”
Sam: “…”
He felt his temples throbbing.
Seeing this “beauty trap” fail.
Sam deep breath, unleashed final trump card. Quickly stuffing magazines back messily, leaned forward, lowered voice, tone extremely serious.
“Ian! I know you’re super interested in starting companies, production, making money! Our Winchester family, generations of demon hunting, accumulated tons of precious exorcism notes! Detailed records of supernatural creatures’ weaknesses, ancient exorcism ritual details, even homemade exorcism item recipes and blueprints! From holy water optimal blessing duration, to salt round grain size, to rune carving for various demon levels… all there!”
Staring into Ian’s eyes, he threw the most tempting condition: “These in your hands, with your ‘wisdom’ and ‘business acumen,’ absolutely build efficient, standardized, low-cost exorcism item production line! Imagine: holy water cheap as mineral water, salt rounds by the pound, rune daggers custom engraving… totally change exorcism industry ecosystem!”
Sam learned to handle Ian, turned hype machine; sure enough, this hit Ian’s vital spot like precise magic!
Ian’s prior indifferent, lazy expression vanished instantly; eyes lit up, stars twinkling within. He even unconsciously sat straight, fingers tapping table, mentally calculating his greatness potential.
Rubbing chin, gaze distant, murmuring, even quoting some unknown famous saying.
“Era where everyone affords exorcism items? Interesting… Technology serves the people—no, magic, exorcism serves the people…”
Greatness, no need for words.
Ian already envisioned a massive global supernatural goods empire rising, him the hidden behind-the-scenes controller, “exorcism world’s Jobs”!
Seconds later, Ian snapped back, face switching to utmost sincere, brotherly expression; grabbed Sam’s hand, shaking hard.
“Sam! My brother! My nineteenth iron buddy! You saying that is too distant! Helping friends, duty-bound! Your dad and brother missing such big deal, how can I, Ian Kent, sit by? Rest assured! Leave it to me! I’m on it!”
“Even if Jesus comes, he’d have to stop me twice to hold me back.” Patting chest, tone resolute, smoothly pocketing those magazines into his backpack.
Movements fluid, like rehearsed a thousand times in heart.
