Chapter 129: The Corrupted Bat! Dimension Unlocked!
New York.
Inside Wonder Woman Diana’s home.
She was originally trying to save her Lasso of Truth.
Who would have thought that even though she had handled it with sufficient caution, just making a call to ask the boy a question, she still couldn’t escape the fate of super high blood pressure.
【Superhero Popularity Center】
This forum website where Batman Bruce Wayne collects supernatural information from all over the world is now as if infected by a virus. After opening the website, almost all the trending topics on the homepage are related to 【Stocking Superman】.
《He is the grandson of Krypton, yet he chose to betray the gods!》
《”This is not your responsibility.” “But I am willing to bear it.” – Stocking Superman’s Choice》
《With the phrase “I am the MVP,” he earned the survival of the entire universe》
《No one remembers his funeral, but everyone lives under his sacrifice》
……
All sorts of trending topics with different titles are endless.
It’s really hard to imagine how one person could repair his house and write so many articles in just a few hours. The more Diana browsed, the more expressive her face became.
Even when entering other posts through search, the website still continuously pushes trending topics to users. It’s as if every corner of the website is filled with boys wearing stockings on their heads.
“…”
Diana stared at the video with the highest heat. On the cover, a group of heroes were wailing and beating their chests, and she, Wonder Woman, displayed what could be called a marvelous snot.
The snot, which looked to be over ten meters long, was remarkably thick and round.
It landed directly on the ground.
It formed the title of the video on the ground amidst the ruins.
【Death of a Hero: Twilight of Justice】
Diana couldn’t fathom why such a video had tens of millions of views. Seeing it was about to reach the next level, she rubbed her temples and forced her finger to click the mouse.
And so.
The video began to play.
A voice-over began to speak—Heroes don’t always need capes.
Sometimes, a child unknown to many can illuminate the entire universe in their own way.
And by the time the world finally realizes this, it is often after he has departed.
May all who have stood up for the world be remembered.
May all heroes who should not be forgotten be truly seen.
……
A very touching narration, delivered with Gotham’s ultimate ASMR.
Immediately, a golden light tore through the night sky, as if the sun were rising from hell. The background music was low and tragic, with a heart-pounding beat that gradually quickened its pace.
The cuts were extremely fast, yet incredibly precise.
The camera zoomed in from the depths of space, focusing on a roaring, mutating figure—his body expanded, rapidly transforming into a terrifying giant.
Superman rushed forward.
He was stomped underfoot like a rag doll.
Wonder Woman, Batman, Cyborg, and Green Arrow prepared to rescue, but were defeated one after another, each lying on the ground. The detailed close-ups of their faces were filled with despair and unwillingness.
“Is the world doomed? No! I absolutely will not allow it!”
Superman struggled to lift the giant Doomsday’s foot.
His face was flushed.
Anger was evident.
“It’s impossible! Impossible! Superman! We’re finished!” Batman painfully got up from the ground, his Batmobile burning behind him into a charred wreck.
“There’s still a chance!”
Superman roared and began to fight the giant Doomsday.
The earth tore apart, volcanoes erupted, tsunamis surged into the sky, and cities turned into ruins—billions in special effects could not be more realistic, with no discernible difference from real events.
“I can’t hold on much longer!”
Superman persisted with grief.
And at this moment.
Seven-colored auspicious clouds descended from the sky.
“Don’t give up!”
A figure descended from the sky!
He had no cape.
He wore only a white lab coat, his stocking-wrapped hair wildly flying, his eyes as determined as a torch, stepping on a lotus of flame as he appeared, with 100-meter long golden peacock feather special effects suddenly unfurling behind him!
“Oh! Who is she?”
Diana exclaimed as she saw herself in the video.
“It’s Stocking Superman.”
Batman’s eyes widened in shock.
Suddenly, a flashback.
From Batman’s perspective, he recalled reprimanding the boy, saying he was unworthy of being a superhero, but now this boy stood firmly before everyone.
“Heroes are never worthy or unworthy, there is only doing or not doing.” Saying this, the boy took a spear from Batman’s hand and resolutely charged towards the giant monster.
“If it’s a one-way trip, then so be it!” The boy, with an invincible belief, broke through layers of hardship and obstacles, and along the way, he even used Doomsday’s heat ray to open a cola bottle cap.
He was incredibly cool.
He faced his fate with composure.
Arriving behind Doomsday, the last bit of cola was poured into the boy’s mouth. Then, with a soaked stocking, he fiercely plunged the spear into Doomsday’s cervical spine!
The next second.
Doomsday let out a deafening wail.
Its body began to collapse.
And Stocking Superman was engulfed by the surging energy. He burned in the flames, yet still held the spear tightly, only letting go at the last moment, falling powerlessly.
The background music suddenly turned tragic.
Doomsday roared to the heavens and fell to the ground with a crash. The pixeled youth released his hand, his broken body falling like a leaf towards the ground, the slow-motion capturing his final gaze.
Two crystal-clear tears seeped out from the stockings.
They were particularly conspicuous on his heavily pixeled face.
As if on a different layer.
“I did it.”
The exhausted words fell.
Superman couldn’t catch the boy in time.
The pixeled boy’s broken body heavily impacted the ground.
The image froze at the moment he closed his eyes.
“Why! Why couldn’t I save him either!” Superman, holding the youth’s corpse, roared at the sky. Wonder Woman knelt and wept bitterly, Batman pounded the ground in a frenzy.
Beneath the tattered battle suit.
His twenty-four abs were faintly visible.
“He saved all of us, yet none of us could save him.”
Cyborg even broke his own wrist just to provide a pillow for the hero as he slept. Amidst the cries of hero after hero, the video’s background music abruptly stopped.
The video gradually turned completely black.
【Only now do I understand that sacrifice is the hero’s most noble will.】
At this moment.
Countless bullet screens were scrolling past.
【Tears, the real MVP】
【The Justice League is truly lost without him】
【What were the other heroes doing? Only he seriously saved the world】
【He burned his life! Illuminating humanity’s future!】
【This spear pierced through the stars!】
【This boy is actually from our Korean Republic!】
……
The website, which originally had no bullet screen function, had it mysteriously updated by a mysterious person. These were real user comments, and the video’s playback count had already exceeded fifty million.
“…”
Diana fell silent.
This plot, more outrageous than an Indian movie, was truly something she didn’t know how to evaluate—Wonder Woman truly felt the talent from that boy.
Except for the wailing of the entire cast at the end, she seemed to have experienced the rest of the plot. However, when put together, she felt as if she had participated in a fake Justice League assembly.
“A moment of journalistic charm? Is this a reporter’s child?” Diana swallowed. She realized that ninety percent of this video was actually filmed.
The remaining special effects and fabricated plot showed no signs of being fake.
Coupled with various interspersing, piecing together, and AI effects, a boy whose face was pixeled was made to appear as a heroic death, with other heroes seeming like mere attachments.
The video’s high popularity was indeed not without reason.
Individual heroism was taken to the extreme.
【MVP, never-ending.】
【Brothers, I cried, I’m truly heartbroken… Earth’s only true man! Stocking Superman!】
【I suddenly understand what a hero is! At the moment of facing death without regret, he is more like Superman than Superman!】
【The Justice League losing him is like the night losing its stars. I suggest renaming the Justice League to the Stocking Superman Fan Club!】
……
Almost every time she refreshed.
Diana could see hundreds of new comments added to the comment section.
They didn’t seem like bots.
It was as if many people were truly moved.
【I was wrong sometimes too. He is the greatest hero. #ForeverMissed# —Batman Official Certified Account】 Wonder Woman even saw Batman’s account comment below.
Yes.
Batman.
He wasn’t just hacked in reality.
His virtual property couldn’t be saved either.
A certain mysterious person not only hacked into this website, updated the bullet screen system, but also created an identity verification function for the website. Then, using several accounts with verified badges, they frantically mourned Stocking Superman below.
【The Flash Certified】
“What meaning does a world without Stocking Superman have?”
【Cyborg Certified】
“If I could go back, in the choice of the League’s leader, I would definitely vote for him.”
【Aquaman Certified】
“He saved our ancestors for thirty-six hundred generations, it’s true.”
……
Almost the entire Justice League had their accounts hacked.
The most absurd thing was that not a single netizen was suspicious. After all, seeing the official certification badges, they naturally assumed that the people arriving were the heroes of the Justice League.
《A discussion on Stocking Superman’s contribution to cosmic peace》
《Revisiting Stocking Superman’s Top Ten Highlight Moments》
The internet is like this.
If there’s a hot topic.
There will be people following the hot topic to help spread it.
Countless people were mourning.
Regardless of whether they knew Stocking Superman before.
They now seemed to have become ten-year fans of Stocking Superman—these people, having not seen Diana’s comments, had already started posting online criticizing Diana for being ungrateful.
《Wonder Woman slacked off the entire time! She only cried snot, not tears, when Stocking Superman sacrificed himself?》
《【In-depth analysis】: Exposure of internal conflicts within the Justice League!》
……
Seeing the public opinion continue to evolve.
It was about to turn into a situation of love turning into hate.
What could Diana say?
“Doesn’t Bruce care about this? This is his website!” She wanted to look away and forget, but after closing her notebook, she couldn’t calm down at all.
She reached out her hand and then pulled it back.
She hesitated several times.
Diana couldn’t resist and opened her notebook again.
【Wonder Woman】
“Sorry, everyone, I’m late. I just cried myself unconscious in the restroom more than ten times.”
Information refreshed in the comment section.
It seemed the mysterious person was still working hard.
It was just that something had caused a delay—although the words spoken by the pirated account sounded strange, Diana inexplicably felt a sense of relief.
At least the netizens haven’t continued to target her and spread crazy rumors. It wasn’t that Diana cared about public opinion, she was mainly afraid that the mysterious person would overlook her due to a hidden agenda.
Fortunately, things weren’t as she imagined, and Diana naturally breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, it was also very upsetting to see others publishing false information under her name.
“No way! I have to do something! Otherwise, who knows when he’ll change my title to “Lying Win Heroine”!” Wonder Woman Diana slumped on the sofa, thinking for a long time.
Finally.
She still wanted to reclaim her reputation.
“Only Clark’s image is better. If this wasn’t something that monster did, I wouldn’t believe it.” Perhaps the DC universe also had its own Voldemort.
Diana didn’t want to mention Ian’s name. She placed the newly bought notebook on her lap again and, with a flurry of typing, applied for her own verified information on the website.
I must say.
The mysterious hacker’s technology was indeed very powerful, and the temporarily implanted system was very complete.
【This certification has already been registered, would you like to change the account?】
Diana looked at the prompt that popped up on the website.
She unhesitatingly chose the 【Yes】 hidden within five thousand mosquito-sized 【No】— the website couldn’t enlarge the font yet, clearly this was a mechanism to screen ordinary people.
As Diana made the correct choice.
The page jumped.
The website directly presented an identity verification questionnaire with over five hundred questions.
Diana’s pupils constricted slightly.
She absolutely couldn’t comprehend how Ian could have created so many things in such a short amount of time.
Did that guy have a team of assistants?
While her heart was filled with doubt.
The first question already appeared before Diana’s eyes.
【001: Where is Wonder Woman from?】
【Option One: Themyscira.】
【Option Two: Loli Island.】
【Option Three: Skull Island.】
【Option Four: Deep in the Valley】
Faced with the first question, Diana of course didn’t need to think. Rallying her spirits to reclaim her title, the hero directly chose the most correct answer.
【Themyscira】
However.
【Incorrect option, please restart verification in one minute.】
Something unexpected happened. The damn website made a wrong judgment. Diana’s eyes widened, and even her demigod brain felt a bit overwhelmed.
“I don’t even know where I’m from?”
She was completely speechless.
After waiting for a minute.
She tried selecting the second option.
【Incorrect option, please restart verification in five minutes.】 The knowledgeable Diana still couldn’t pass this identity verification, blocked by what was essentially the first question of an open-book test.
“???????”
Diana really wanted to curse.
She felt that Ian didn’t understand her background information at all.
Perhaps that boy was randomly setting up the questionnaire.
“Maybe I should just wait for Bruce to regain control of this website.” After selecting the third option and still getting an error, Diana stared at the half-hour cooldown time.
She chose to give up.
Although her lifespan was incredibly long.
That didn’t mean she wanted to spend an entire year on a questionnaire!
Know this!
This questionnaire had five hundred questions!
“Perhaps this cooldown time accumulates with the five hundred questions, and later on I’ll have to wait for decades, centuries. He’s definitely capable of doing something like that!”
Diana felt an unbearable headache and hoped Bruce could set things right. She believed Bruce was just temporarily busy and never doubted Batman’s abilities.
The air quality in New York wasn’t great.
But it was still better than Diana’s stifling mood at this moment.
She was counting on Batman to take action.
And what was Batman doing?
Three hundred feet beneath Gotham.
In one of Batman’s undisclosed private laboratories, the cold white light reflected off the metal walls like an ice cellar. The air was filled with a faint burnt smell emanating from the operating electronic devices.
There was also a sense of palpable tension.
External interference couldn’t affect the atmosphere here because it wasn’t connected to the internet at all, which was why Batman and The Flash remained so calm.
“Clang clang clang~”
They were rebuilding a new Dream Detector.
A device capable of delving into the consciousness and reading subconscious signals. Batman believed such a device could help him and the Justice League understand what kind of nightmares The Flash was experiencing every night.
In this regard.
Barry Allen chose to trust him.
With the Speed Force as his boon and several doctoral degrees, completing Batman’s blueprints wasn’t difficult, as the plans and designs also considered his knowledge level.
Having a confidant teammate was truly something.
The Flash’s true nature and trump cards.
Were always seen through by Batman with great clarity.
“Seriously, are all these things necessary? I feel like you’re just using this to collect my Speed Force data.” Barry Allen was covered in sensors and electrodes.
Even the clothes borrowed from the Kent family had several cuts in them.
Revealing the miniature probes flickering on his skin.
Batman, without looking up, typed a string of code on the holographic keyboard: “No, I’m just collecting Speed Force samples. I figured out your basic data three years ago.”
He was as honest as Ian.
After debugging some data.
The man also walked forward and took several test tubes, hidden within Barry Allen’s instruments and now glowing with golden arcs of electricity.
The previous depletion of Speed Force reserves.
Batman naturally sought a way to replenish it.
His honesty and direct retrieval of the test tubes truly left The Flash feeling helpless.
“Can’t you at least pretend a little, consider my feelings even a tiny bit?” Barry Allen put his hands on his hips, held back for a long time, and ultimately didn’t dare to make too serious a complaint.
After all, having been in the Justice League for so many years, he understood the Dark Knight’s style of operation too well. Once you showed even the slightest dissatisfaction, the next day your personal file would have an additional red mark for “potential instability factor”—your danger rating would be directly raised by at least three levels.
If a superhuman had no ambition, no dark side, why would he fear others formulating plans against him? The Flash could even imagine Batman’s rigorous thought process.
Let alone within the Justice League, even minor heroes operating in obscure cities knew how severe Batman, the Master of Gotham, was with his persecution complex.
Just as expected.
Even though The Flash was emotionally stable.
“I’ll be mindful next time.” After glancing at him, Batman silently raised The Flash’s danger rating by 0.5, for reasons unknown, based on some calculation or judgment.
“You this…”
Barry opened his mouth.
Ultimately, he didn’t ask.
In the center of the laboratory.
A giant device resembling an MRI machine hummed and operated.
Strange liquids flowed through several tubes.
It looked quite eerie.
This was the result of The Flash and Batman’s several hours of work.
“Can this thing really help me?” Barry walked up to the machine, changing the subject. His finger lightly touched the casing, and he instantly retracted his hand, struck by some energy reaction.
“Huh?”
Barry was very confused.
After all, he only knew the construction principle, not the operating principle.
Doctor.
Was just a starting point in certain fields.
“At least it can let us see what form of erosion you’re experiencing.” Batman finally turned around, his black cape swirling behind him, as he made final adjustments with a tablet.
“Ian said I was dying.” Barry stared at the instrument in front of him, his voice suddenly lowering. He wasn’t afraid of death, but he didn’t want to die meaninglessly and without understanding.
“Don’t worry, we still have dozens of hours, if that kid’s judgment is correct.” Batman walked to the console and began entering the launch sequence.
“Hearing you say that makes me even more worried!” Barry scratched his hair. “Usually, lines like ‘we still have dozens of hours’ are followed by the end of the world!”
His expression was quite amusing.
However, Batman had no intention of appreciating it.
“Finding the problem is the most difficult part. In fact, once we understand the situation you’re experiencing, solving it won’t be difficult.”
Batman continued to operate the console.
His words were filled with determination.
“Solving a problem is much simpler than finding it? Uh… is that really true?” Barry’s expression was one of utter astonishment. He felt that there might truly be a generation gap between him and Batman.
In response.
Batman did not answer.
He merely pointed to the machine’s open compartment. Barry pouted, resignedly lay down inside. The metal bracket automatically closed, securing The Flash in a fetal position.
“Starting immediately. Be prepared, you will soon enter a deep dream state.” Batman gave a reminder and began to activate the newly built machine.
There were no sparks.
Nor was there any failure.
“System initialization complete.”
“Establishing neural connection.”
“Dream synchronization rate: 87%.”
“Target has entered shallow consciousness stage.”
……
Batman’s creations rarely had problems.
Only then.
Lines of cold data flashed across the screen.
Emotionless mechanical voices continuously sounded.
And Barry’s breathing rate gradually slowed, his heartbeat became steady. His eyeballs moved rapidly beneath his eyelids, slowly entering REM sleep.
And this.
Was not enough.
As deeper dream layers were excavated, initiated, and intervened.
A faint blue beam of light shot out from the top of the instrument, enveloping the entire cabin. Immediately, Barry’s brainwave pattern began to fluctuate violently, as if undergoing an unprecedented consciousness storm.
Batman stared intently at the screen, trying to capture any abnormal fluctuations.
Suddenly.
The brainwave pattern showed a strange pattern—a never-before-recorded fluctuation curve, showing a spiraling increasing trend, like a projection of some high-dimensional structure.
At the same time, Barry’s lips trembled slightly, as if murmuring in his dream:
“They are… watching us… it’s not an illusion… they really exist…”
Batman’s pupils constricted.
What is this?
Is it The Flash’s own amplified fear? Or…
A real invader?
“Dada da, dada da~” Batman’s hands continuously operated the console, yet the screen, which had already been set, did not display Barry Allen’s dream.
The instrument had no issues.
The laboratory was silent.
Only the ticking sound of the instrument’s operation echoed in the air. Batman sat before the main console, his eyes fixed on the continuously changing data stream, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. He couldn’t figure out the specific reason why the dream images weren’t being displayed, and could only vaguely sense that it might be due to some form of shielding.
“Has this intrusion progressed to this extent? Can it affect our world?” Batman even activated the backup mode, but still couldn’t see Barry’s dream through the screen.
He hadn’t felt like this in a long time.
Feeling extremely uneasy.
Batman wanted to attempt other corrections, but at that moment, the dream synchronization rate on the screen suddenly soared to 95%, and then dropped sharply to 30%.
“Beep beep beep beep~”
An alarm suddenly sounded.
Sharp and piercing.
The Dream Detector vibrated wildly.
The stable data stream on the screen suddenly became chaotic, the waveforms twisted and jumped, as if the entire system was undergoing a consciousness-level storm.
“Warning: Target consciousness fluctuation abnormal, experimental termination recommended.”
The weak AI’s prompt echoed, repeating constantly. Batman didn’t hesitate and immediately stopped the instrument’s operation—he directly punched the emergency stop button.
The machine let out a dying groan.
The hatch opened slowly under the action of the hydraulic device. Cold white mist poured out from within, and Barry Allen was soaked in sweat, his chest heaving.
It was like waking up from a nightmare.
“Are you okay?” Batman wasn’t a heartless person; he cared about the lives and safety of his teammates, at least until a crisis arose that required sacrificing a teammate.
“I should be able to survive for now?”
Barry’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
“We failed.” Batman stated calmly, as if recounting a fact. He reached out to unfasten the restraints on Barry’s head, but Barry suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“No, we succeeded.”
The Flash’s pupils dilated slightly.
His voice trembled with excitement.
“I didn’t forget. I remember what I dreamed about this time.” He swallowed, the memories in his mind exceptionally clear, not even fading with the passage of time.
“They, those beings from other universes, want you to remember this dream?” Batman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scrutinized The Flash before him.
As he spoke.
Batman’s hands went directly to his belt—he was still wearing his armor because he was extremely vigilant, guarding against any unexpected situations caused by the dream detection.
“I wasn’t controlled.”
Barry turned and pointed to the clock hanging in the laboratory—only four minutes had passed in real time, but in his perception, it felt like hours had passed in the dream.
“I saw a boy.”
Barry’s speech sped up unconsciously.
“In a toy room.”
He began to recount his dream to Batman.
“In a room, playing with toys. There was Superman, Aquaman, and you and me…” Barry Allen’s memories were very clear.
The space in the dream was like a collage haphazardly pieced together by a child.
The walls were crookedly plastered with Superman, Batman, and The Flash drawings, and the floor was littered with various superhero action figures—some Barry recognized, others were completely unfamiliar.
In the center of the room.
A brown-haired boy, about ten years old, was sitting cross-legged on the floor.
He was fiddling with two action figures in his hands.
One was a red-suited Flash, and the other was a white-haired boy wearing sunglasses.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me. In this fragment of the universe where I reside, everyone else besides me is good. They don’t want to harm your universe.”
The boy spoke without looking up.
His voice held a calmness beyond his years.
He gently touched the two action figures, and they floated eerily in the air, beginning a chase of speed against speed, with The Flash gaining the upper hand and pressing down on the white-haired boy.
In his memory.
Barry had a particularly profound memory of this scene.
He told Batman what he had encountered, and that he couldn’t move in the dream, as if held in place by an invisible force.
“We have our own universe.”
“However, we are currently searching for it, searching for our home. Attaching ourselves to you wasn’t our choice, but the cosmic fragment itself is about to give out.”
“This is related to the crisis our original world is facing.”
“The Flash, Barry Allen. You can think of it as a massive impact causing a part of the universe to break off, and within that detached part, we exist.”
These were the boy’s exact words.
They were repeated verbatim to Batman by The Flash.
Not even the tone was different.
One could imagine.
How clear and profound the dream memories were in The Flash’s mind. He was afraid of omitting any details, so he tried his best to describe his experience as closely to his memory as possible.
Regarding this.
Batman offered no judgment.
He just frowned.
“The claim of invading life is not to be trusted.” Batman interrupted The Flash’s recollection, his voice firm. He didn’t trust aliens, let alone beings from other universes.
Who knew if the life forms from that universe were still human.
The dream boy that The Flash saw.
Ultimately, it was just an image others wanted The Flash to see.
“Regarding his so-called ‘home,’ do you have any further descriptions?” In truth, even what The Flash said was considered untrustworthy information in Batman’s mind.
The reason he asked.
Was simply to find a loophole and expose the lies from other universes.
“He said their world still exists, but they cannot connect with it—at least until our world is destroyed, we will not poison you.”
Barry Allen paused midway, then repeated the other’s words and tone.
“As I said before, the claims of beings from other universes are most likely lies.” Batman’s pupils flickered slightly as he spoke in a low voice, processing the information he already knew. He silently walked to the console and took out a set of neural leads to connect to Barry’s temples. “I need to collect your memories and brain information.”
Saying this.
Batman attached a few leads to Barry’s head.
The Flash did not refuse.
However.
The result was as bizarre as usual. Although Barry Allen clearly remembered every detail he saw in the dream, no related information was stored in his brain.
This point.
Greatly surprised Barry Allen.
However, there was no hint of surprise on Batman’s face.
“It’s not strange. I couldn’t read your dream images before either.”
He repeated the operation, but the result was still the same.
“But I clearly remember it.” Barry felt confused and scratched his head, his tone full of disbelief. “But why… can’t I leave any trace?”
Batman did not answer Barry’s question, perhaps he didn’t know how to answer.
He frowned.
Lost in thought.
The atmosphere in the room became silent.
“What should we do? That kid doesn’t seem like a bad guy? At least not as bad as the youngest son of the Kent family.” Barry Allen’s uncertain remark made Batman look at him several times.
“Perhaps you have already been infected or are under mental influence.” Batman disconnected the scanner, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “You cannot return to Central City until we find a solution.”
This was also for the safety of the city.
The Flash was not a young kid.
He could understand Batman’s decision.
“I’ll call Iris, and my friends.” Barry Allen took out his mobile phone, but it showed no signal.
“……”
The Flash looked up at Batman.
“I will notify them. You may need to stay here with me for a while. This place is specially made for you.” Batman was still as thoughtful as ever.
The Flash felt that his future corpse would surely be warm.
“If this ‘boy’ truly just wants to go home as he said, then perhaps we can find out where his home is, and then he and the others he mentioned will stop invading our universe… including me.” After all, people always have a sliver of hope, and The Flash wished for the best outcome.
He really didn’t want to die so carelessly.
“I’ll ask that kid from the Kent family. I’ll find out more about this after I understand more about it.” Batman didn’t respond; he didn’t trust beings from other universes.
“Okay.”
The Flash sighed and nodded.
He walked into the special room that Batman had opened.
As the door slowly closed.
“Oh, right, he also said they are called mutants… perhaps they, like many superpowered individuals I’ve encountered, gained their powers due to genetic mutations for some reason?”
The Flash added another piece of information.
Batman nodded.
Without any judgment.
He didn’t understand the meaning behind the name.
“Has his personality not been affected?” Through the one-way glass, seeing Barry Allen start reading a book, Batman left the laboratory without looking back.
The night was as dark as ink.
The streets of Gotham were intertwined with neon and shadows, forming a chaotic panorama.
The Batmobile roared past.
Its tires screeched against the ground. It didn’t head towards Wayne Manor but instead followed a hidden underground passage, descending into a derelict industrial zone on the outskirts of the city.
This was a deserted military factory, but beneath it lay another world. Deep underground, it had been transformed into a brand-new, high-tech secret base.
It was deeper and more concealed than the Batcave.
There were no markings at the entrance.
Nor were there any signal sources that could be tracked.
This was the “Multiverse Research Facility” that Bruce Wayne had personally activated in the past few days, specifically for investigating anomalies originating from other universes.
“Multiverse war, invasion from other universes…”
The Batmobile slowly stopped before an underground metal platform. Batman leaped out of the car and moved with decisive efficiency to the trunk, dragging out a heavy black case.
The case scraped against the ground with a harsh sound.
Echoing through the empty corridors of the base.
“And another me… many more me’s.”
Batman had clearly been thinking all the way. He dragged the case forward, his boots striking the brand-new alloy floor, his footsteps like a dull heartbeat.
Inside the base, Batman passed through automatic recognition gates and biological scanning areas, arriving at the core zone, where the blue light of the technology equipment cast cold shadows on the walls.
On both sides of the corridor.
Holographic projectors operated silently.
Continuously refreshing abnormal energy readings from all over the globe. Batman merely glanced at them briefly, then continued dragging the large case towards the central area.
As the base had just been established.
All the instruments looked brand new, as if they had just come out of the factory. The base did not house or feature any specialized equipment, except for a seemingly ordinary stasis pod that was particularly eye-catching.
Because it contained a sleeping person—inside the transparent stasis pod, the bald Lex Luthor lay peacefully. His once arrogant face was now gaunt, his eye sockets sunken, and dense neural sensors were attached to his temples. His chest rose and fell faintly, like a puppet drained of life.
“You weren’t killed, just imprisoned. There must be a reason.”
Batman paused briefly in front of the stasis pod. It was clear that when he was operating alone in Metropolis before, he had concealed some information he had found and hadn’t told Clark—he had found this universe’s Luthor, imprisoned by a Luthor from a parallel universe, and brought him back to this new base that could block Superman’s prying eyes.
Perhaps.
Batman felt that Luthor might have some trace or hidden danger left by an isotope, or perhaps he believed he could find some information about the multiverse war by using this Luthor.
Batman’s gaze, sharp as a blade, fixed on Luthor’s pale face.
He couldn’t wake him up.
Because the person’s state was like a living dead, unable to wake up yet unable to die.
“Maybe Superman needs to kiss him.” A bizarre thought suddenly crossed Batman’s mind. He frowned, suppressing his somewhat abnormal emotions.
“I’d rather believe that the Ian Virus truly exists than believe that an isotope has influenced me… such a thought itself is a manifestation of being influenced.”
Batman began to self-diagnose.
He was about to continue dragging the large case to the research equipment.
The communicator on his waist suddenly rang.
“Master.”
It was Alfred.
For Bruce Wayne, when he became Batman, very few people could contact him at all times. Among them, Alfred was one of his most important “family members.”
“Has the young master run away again? Or is he still plotting to attack the Gotham Police Department?” Batman frowned, thinking that Alfred contacting him at this time would bring no good news.
However.
“No, no, no, the young master has been very well-behaved today.”
“He even changed his previous opinion, saying that superheroes are very cool, especially when they use an enemy’s attack to pan-sear a steak before death, and because the steak is not cooked to medium-rare, they fight to the death to defeat the villain, which is like his dream self.” Alfred’s voice came through the headphones.
His tone carried a hint of a smile.
The temperature in the base’s laboratory remained constant, but Batman inexplicably felt a chill down his spine.
“You shouldn’t have let him read Ian Kent’s comics. That’s not something a person who wants to live a good life should read.” Batman sighed, giving Ian’s comics high praise.
“I assure you I didn’t.” Alfred paused. “However, the young master has indeed browsed a large amount of online news about the special report on the sacrifice of the Kent family’s youngest son recently.”
Upon hearing this.
Bruce rushed to the base computer.
His cape knocked over the test tube rack on the table.
“It’s that Death of Stocking Superman.”
Alfred seemed to sense something was wrong. “This should just be some form of propaganda or spoof, right? After all, the child just hacked into the information-gathering website you created earlier, didn’t he?”
As soon as he said this.
The communicator was directly thrown onto the console.
“What did he do?” Bruce lunged at the main control terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard. Twelve screens lit up simultaneously, each displaying a comical emoji. The monitoring and protection program he personally wrote had failed to provide him with any warnings, because all monitoring programs had become electronic tombstones.
Even the 【 Superhero Popularity Center 】 had changed ownership.
Upon entering this website.
There was no other information.
The entire page was filled with shocking sound effects + videos commemorating Stocking Superman. One hundred videos, one hundred different ones, with booming sound effects, explosive special effects, and an outrageously refined editing.
Every video was like a hero’s epic tailor-made for that boy, accompanied by tear-jerking background music and a screen full of bullet comments, making it impossible to resist that tragic sentiment.
Of course.
There were other videos too.
For example.
《 Shocking! Batman Cries Deeply in the Middle of the Night, Admitting Inferiority to Stocking Superman （ HD Restored Version ）》
Seeing such a title, Bruce wisely did not click on it. He simply opened the real-time data calculation and found that 230 million users worldwide had already participated in the “Stocking Spirit” topic discussion.
“Young Master?”
Alfred’s voice came from the floor.
“Do you need me to activate the emergency plan? The one about complaining to Superman.”
He was inquiring.
“…”
Bruce did not reply.
His gaze was fixed tightly on the 【 Darkseid 】 villain-certified account.
At this moment.
“Darkseid” was also reminiscing about Stocking Superman in a villainous tone.
Not many people recognized this name, but since it was a verified account, the number of likes and shares for this account’s posts was naturally not small.
“Impersonating various superheroes is one thing, but this guy isn’t even sparing villains?” Even as a master of facial expressions, his eyes twitched uncontrollably at this moment.
“Can it get any more outrageous?”
Batman had no idea how to comment.
He started typing on the keyboard.
Attempting to regain control of the 【 Superhero Popularity Center 】.
“Hmm? He’s changed his hacking style again?”
He made a slight attempt.
Batman was somewhat surprised after failing.
【 Permission Denied 】
【 Website Upgraded 】
【 Highest Administrator — A Hero Who Wishes to Remain Anonymous 】
After toiling for a long time.
Batman only received this feedback.
Let alone fighting for permission.
He needed to fill out a questionnaire just to get back his over three hundred alt accounts. This was not a first-encounter kill, but even using Apokolips Technology, Batman could not regain control of the website.
His computer even got infected with a virus because of it.
Playing “Little Bat Be Good” crazily.
“…”
To be honest.
Besides a mixed bag of emotions, the Gotham Master from dozens of intelligence websites was not angry about the website being stolen. He had already realized that Ian had his reasons for doing these things.
That boy could draw strength from such hot news topics — it was incredible, but much evidence had already revealed this truth to Bruce.
Staring at the computer screen for a long time, Batman chose to give up.
“The powerful artificial intelligence in his hands is constantly evolving.” The Gotham Master’s eyes were deep, and he made the judgment that he felt was most reasonable in his heart.
Yes.
Batman had long discovered that the hacker was not Ian, but a powerful artificial intelligence controlled by Ian. Including those synthesized and edited videos, they might have all come from this artificial intelligence.
“Fantasy Manifestation…”
Recalling his previous speculation about Ian’s 【 Superpower 】, Batman’s mind frantically flashed through all of Ian’s works. He roughly pinpointed a very suspicious target.
“Jarvis, who appeared in that 《 Iron Man 》 comic?” Batman mused as he continuously scrolled through posts made by normal users on the 【 Superhero Popularity Center 】.
He saw some posts mourning other victims besides Stocking Superman.
【 My sister was in Metropolis Plaza at the time… She just went to buy something and never came back. 】
【 Officials, for the sake of votes, keep emphasizing that God protects Metropolis and the casualty count is low, but who will tell me that my father’s life should just be another number? 】
【 We admire the heroes’ choices, but we must also remember that those who died innocently deserve to be remembered as well. 】
…
Bruce was somewhat silent.
There was a reason why Wayne Enterprises chose to bear the cost of Metropolis’s reconstruction.
Those deceased.
Were the reason.
“If only I could have made a more accurate judgment back then…” Bruce couldn’t help but ponder this question. This thought was like a thorn, deeply embedded in his mind.
The more he thought, the more uneasy he became.
Batman couldn’t help but turn on the news television.
Many TV stations’ news were mentioning this event.
Dozens of split screens simultaneously played programs from different TV stations.
The families of the victims were crying and questioning.
Some even angrily accused Superman — although more people chose to forgive him. Especially local TV stations in Metropolis, even media that were usually harsh on Superman were mourning.
The news anchor was broadcasting a special program.
The background music was low and sorrowful.
“Today, all of Metropolis is in mourning.”
The anchorwoman’s golden-red eyes indicated that she had just cried.
But she still maintained a professional attitude.
“Disaster has befallen our city once again, and Superman could not prevent it in time, but I want to speak on behalf of many citizens: we should not blame Superman for not rescuing us in time.”
“Superman must have tried his best. However, like the families of other victims, our city’s guardian has also lost his child today.”
It was obvious.
The reporters in Metropolis and Stocking Superman had interacted more than once.
The reporters in Metropolis already knew in their hearts who this recently active Stocking Superman was. They had all been pretending to be ignorant while knowing the truth.
After all, they operated in the same city.
Possessing the same abilities.
Even a paternity testing agency would confirm it.
Precisely because of this.
The reporters in Metropolis, no matter how sharp-tongued they usually were, did not choose to harshly criticize Superman tonight, just like the criminals who had directly reduced the crime rate to almost zero.
The criminals also did not take advantage of the chaos to commit any atrocities tonight — of course, it wasn’t that the bad guys were comforting Superman in their own way, but rather that they were afraid of being beaten to death by a Superman who had lost his son if they committed any crimes tonight.
It was the same mentality as reporters being afraid of being beaten to death.
Yes.
This was not a symbol of peace.
But a manifestation of fear.
It was because of the trending videos on the 【 Superhero Popularity Center 】.
Everyone believed that Superman had lost his son tonight, and what would a father who had lost a child become? Even the craziest gangs in Metropolis wouldn’t dare to gamble on it.
This situation was somewhat comical.
However, Batman’s mood at this moment was exceptionally heavy.
His attention was more focused on the interview news with the families of the victims.
This part might not be as popular as the boy’s news, but a quick search would reveal many related interviews or statements from the families themselves online.
“Ian Kent warned us.”
Batman unconsciously clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He knew he was not a god, nor Superman, but he still could not forgive that moment of impulsiveness.
Dozens of windows simultaneously played different news reports.
Voices intertwined.
Forming a chaotic symphony.
“Why is it my Marissa? Why not those damn politicians? Why not those rich people?” The woman’s cries echoed through the speakers in this new Batcave.
“She was only sixteen! She just got a scholarship to art school!”
This woman was not an isolated case.
The families of the victims were being interviewed, and many were crying and asking: “Why my mother? Why me?” There were no answers to these questions, only heart-wrenching pain.
Their voices were like sharp blades, piercing Bruce’s heart.
He closed his eyes, but closing them could not stop the memories from flooding in — it was when Ian told them to stop, yet he still pulled the trigger without hesitation.
At that time.
Bruce truly felt that his brain was controlled by emotions.
He just wanted to eliminate Doomsday.
Eradicate the threat.
Batman never regretted fighting, but this time, Bruce regretted his decision. When the dust had settled, the death toll caused by him finally stood at 1,487.
The price of this mistake was too high. Even with all the displays turned off, the silent Batcave, with only its mechanical operation, made those voices echo even more clearly in his mind.
As his mood grew heavier.
Batman still remembered what he needed to do.
“If I hadn’t let emotions interfere with my judgment…”
Thoughts coiled around him like venomous snakes.
Bruce turned abruptly, his cape sweeping in a sharp arc behind him. He needed to act, needed data, needed to focus his attention on solvable problems.
The metal box was roughly dragged in front of the main analysis console.
The hydraulic system emitted a dull hum. As the lid opened, cold mist poured out like a ghost, revealing the body of the Red Death, preserved by special means, within.
This being, a suspected doppelganger of Batman, lay quietly inside like an ordinary specimen, twisted and grotesque, with the final solemnity of his life etched on the head he had cut himself.
Bruce thought of something.
However.
He hesitated for only a moment before directly moving the corpse out and carefully placing the head and torso of the Red Death into separate high-precision analysis instruments.
“Beep beep beep beep~”
The instruments were in operation.
It was just that.
【 No Valid Sample Detected 】 Just like analyzing The Flash or Lex Luthor, his new instrument could not detect anything, not even the existence of the Red Death.
It couldn’t be activated at all.
It was just undetectable.
But the corpse undeniably existed.
“Is it because he doesn’t belong to our universe? Or for some other reason?”
Batman frowned. He brought up the holographic panel and manually calibrated it, but all sensor feedback pointed to the same absurd conclusion: the instrument “saw” nothing on the corpse, like humans cannot see air. At this moment, Batman clearly realized that his equipment had become obsolete in the face of this new crisis.
“If I analyze this corpse from a physical perspective, I might gain some insight.” Batman took a micro-sampler from his utility belt, and the sharp needle pierced the Red Death’s neck skin. But when he pulled it out, the syringe was empty — not even a basic cell sample could be extracted.
This was truly bizarre.
And it touched upon Batman’s knowledge blind spot.
“The blood I collected earlier has also disappeared. Is my doppelganger erasing traces of its existence?” Bruce’s expression grew more confused after rummaging through the metal box.
He rubbed his temples, unable to figure it out.
“I might need some sleep now.” The jumbled thoughts in his head made it impossible for Batman to concentrate. He glanced at the Red Death’s corpse and then sealed it back up.
“If technology cannot analyze it, then perhaps… magic can.” Batman was still thinking as he walked into the Batcave’s medical area and approached a cabinet.
After taking out a medicine bottle from the cabinet, he also took a potent sleeping pill — this medicine was cutting-edge technology, capable of inducing five minutes of continuous sleep.
During these five minutes of sleep.
Batman would gain enough energy to last the entire day.
Ian’s past remarks about Batman taking a lot of drugs were not unfounded. The moment the potent sleeping pill slid down his throat, Batman lay on the nearby sleep chair and fell into a slumber deeper than any infant’s.
Bruce’s consciousness sank into darkness.
But the darkness did not bring him peace.
The guilt that plagued him did not dissipate; the people he failed to save, the moments of misjudgment, turned into a dark tide, surging in his dreamscape.
The emotions of guilt and regret still lingered.
Growing stronger.
It even seemed to trigger some special resonance.
Just as he fell into slumber.
The Red Death’s body, which had been heavily secured, suddenly twisted a few times inside the metal cabinet. Its head caved in, and its joints made faint “clicking” sounds.
A very subtle movement.
It triggered no alarms.
After all.
No instrument could monitor it. At least, Batman didn’t have such an instrument yet — the Batcave’s lights cast a cold blue halo on the hibernation pod.
Bruce’s sleeping posture was like a vampire in a coffin, stiff and tense. His expression kept changing, as if his dream was being silently eroded by some force.
As he succumbed to the drug’s effects and fell asleep.
Darkness enveloped Bruce’s consciousness, but soon, the darkness was torn apart — he clearly felt himself falling, passing through layer after layer of chaotic veils.
Until some cold and viscous touch enveloped his entire body.
Bruce’s eyes snapped open—only to find the world before him had completely changed.
He stood on a desolate expanse of metal ruins.
The sky above wasn’t Gotham’s cloudy gloom, but a warped sea of stars.
Giant planets hung in the heavens.
Their orbits were a chaotic mess, as if torn apart by some ineffable force.
Further away, ominous red lights flickered in the black expanse of space, like countless eyes peering into reality. The air was filled with a pungent metallic smell and the stench of blood.
The deafening roar of artillery fire echoed from a distance.
“Movement!” Bruce’s body tensed almost instinctively, his fingers subconsciously reaching for his belt—but his equipment was gone. He was wearing his battle suit, but all weapons, tools, and even his communicator had vanished. Only the most basic armor still covered him, as if deliberately disarmed by some power.
“Where is this?”
He muttered to himself.
But his voice was drowned out by the roar of warship engines.
Countless warships were falling.
“This isn’t human technology…”
Bruce scanned his surroundings.
“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!”
A soldier in similar armor charged over, their voice hoarse and tired from behind the helmet, “The Chaos Fleet has broken through the defense line! They’re disintegrating the strength we possess!”
Chaos? Bruce frowned, but his body, driven by some instinct, quickly followed the soldier towards the combat zone.
In the corridor.
Corpses lay everywhere, blood pooling into small streams on the metal floor.
“Hold the line!”
An officer roared, raising a bolter and firing at the charging enemies. Bruce followed the aim of his gun, his pupils contracting sharply—the enemies were not human.
They were twisted, deformed, their skin covered in scales and pustules, their limbs mutated into sharp claws. The eyes of these monsters gleamed with madness.
They emitted inhuman shrieks from their mouths.
“What… is this?”
Bruce gripped the power sword handed to him, but his body charged forward uncontrollably.
His blade swung down, and flesh and blood splattered. The enemy’s blood was not red, but a viscous purple, and it writhed like living things where it splashed onto his armor.
The battle continued.
Bruce felt his consciousness gradually blur, as if being pulled by some force. Every swing of his sword, every dodge, felt like a preset procedure.
And not his own will.
Suddenly.
A blinding light exploded in the distant starlight.
Bruce looked up, his pupils contracting sharply—a warship larger than a city was slowly emerging from a warp rift. Its form resembled some kind of deep-sea leviathan, its hull covered in spikes and grotesque statues, and those statues… were moving. Their eyes flickered with an eerie purple light.
Their mouths stretched into grins.
As if silently cackling.
And in the further reaches of deep space, another fleet was engaged in battle with this terrifying colossal ship. Their ships were angular and sharply defined, their hulls branded with golden double-headed eagle insignia. Explosions of fire and light tore through the vacuum silently, beams and missiles interweaving into a net of destruction, but those blasphemous colossal ships seemed to be enjoying the carnage.
Their cannons spewed forth dazzling purple-red energy, each strike capable of tearing a human warship to shreds.
“Is this a cosmic war?”
Bruce immediately sought cover.
He had never witnessed interstellar combat on such a scale; even when the Kryptonians’ world engine descended upon Earth, it was nowhere near the madness of this war.
“What are those things?” A chilling dread crawled up Bruce’s spine. He instinctively wanted to do something, but he wasn’t even sure if this was a dream or if he had been corrupted by the outer universe.
And at this moment.
A sudden voice helped Bruce confirm the answer.
“What an interesting soul…”
A voice sounded in his ear.
It wasn’t a sound traveling through air, but one echoing directly in his mind, like silk brushing against skin, or a viper’s hiss, sweet and deadly.
Bruce spun around abruptly, but no one was there.
“Who?!”
“You’ve finally arrived, my dear Dark Knight…” The voice chuckled, each syllable laced with dizzying pleasure. “I’ve been observing you for a long time… your pain, your anger, your… repression.”
Bruce clenched his jaw, forcing himself to calm down. “A hallucination? Or some kind of mental attack?”
“Oh, don’t be so dull~” The voice’s owner seemed amused by his reaction, their tone rising playfully. “You desire release more than anyone, yet you bind yourself with that laughable sense of responsibility… what a waste.”
Suddenly, Bruce’s vision was consumed by a dazzling purple-red hue.
The starry sky before him warped and melted, replaced by a colossal palace—no, it couldn’t even be called a “palace,” but a realm constructed from desire itself.
Soaring spires were intertwined with bone and silk, the ground paved with soft, living flesh carpets, and the air was filled with a cloying, head-spinning fragrance.
And at the end of the palace, a blurred figure reclined on a throne.
Four-armed, alluring, with an inhuman beauty, a mere glimpse caused a tearing pain in Bruce’s temples.
The being’s form constantly shifted, sometimes a breathtaking maiden, sometimes a handsome youth, or both simultaneously, or even more… an undefinable shape.
“A god? An evil god?”
Bruce’s brain, which was rapidly losing function, was still capable enough.
He made a clear judgment.
“Welcome to my domain, Bruce Wayne… another cute one, tsk tsk.” Its skin was as luminous as pearls, its eyes swirling with captivating purple light.
“You’re purer than the last one, not some fused mongrel. I like that.” Its voice sounded like millions whispering simultaneously, a lazy, dangerous smile gracing its lips.
Bruce’s muscles tensed to their limit, but his body couldn’t move. A force that transcended physical laws suppressed him, leaving him able to do nothing but stare at the being before him.
“The Red Death, another me, did he say you were someone he couldn’t defeat?” Bruce struggled to keep his mind working, feeling his thoughts and soul being influenced.
“I know nothing of a Red Death, I only care about you… you may call me… the Lord of Pleasure.” It chuckled, its long fingers lightly tracing the armrest of the throne.
The invasion of the outer universe had reached Bruce.
Then.
Bruce’s mind began to falter.
It was as if some knowledge was being forcefully injected—the being he faced was called Slaanesh. This was not the doing of the entity, but the remnant of that Red Death.
That Batman, who had also foreseen everything.
Ultimately, he had foreseen the inability to control the possessiveness of his alternate self.
“Why me?” Bruce forced himself to speak.
“Because you are so… delicious.” Slaanesh’s fingertips gently pointed in his direction. “Your pain, your restraint, your near-self-abusing persistence… what a fascinating struggle.”
Bruce felt a shiver of revulsion, but even more terrifying was the slight waver within his own heart.
“I can give you freedom, Bruce…” Slaanesh’s voice was like honey. “Shed your shackles, embrace true pleasure… you can have anything you desire.”
In an instant, countless images flashed before Bruce’s eyes.
Gotham, with no more crime.
His parents, never having died.
Superman, powerless.
Alfred, forever young.
—These were his deepest, most buried desires.
“No…”
Bruce gritted his teeth hard, his nails digging deeply into his palms, trying to use the pain to sober himself up. The pain had no effect, only making him realize this was no ordinary dream.
“This is not real.”
Bruce closed his eyes.
“Oh? Then what is your so-called ‘reality’?” Slaanesh’s laughter tinkled like bells. “What have your so-called principles gained you? More death? More pain?”
Bruce’s breathing grew heavy.
“Why not unleash your true nature and let me see the real you.”
Its words.
Made Bruce’s pupils dilate.
“Shut up!”
Bruce struggled violently.
But he couldn’t regain control of his body—his consciousness gradually sank into Slaanesh’s whispers, that sweet voice like venom, slowly corroding his will.
“Why must you suppress yourself?”
Slaanesh’s voice echoed in his ears. “You crave release more than anyone… the darkness of Gotham, the destruction of Metropolis, the lost souls who died because of you… you didn’t have to bear all this.”
Bruce’s breathing grew rapid.
Cold sweat trickled down.
Countless illusions appeared before his eyes—Gotham burning in flames, Joker’s head being cooked by himself, Superman’s corpse floating in space.
Alfred’s disappointed gaze… these were all false scenarios that hadn’t happened, yet, terrifyingly, a twisted pleasure was intertwined within these despairing images.
“Accept it…” Slaanesh’s fingertip lifted, as if caressing Bruce’s soul from afar. “Let pain become pleasure, let repression become indulgence… you deserve to enjoy it all.”
Bruce’s will began to waver.
However, just as his defenses were about to crumble—
A blinding golden light suddenly tore through the dreamscape.
That light was like a sharp sword.
Piercing through Slaanesh’s domain, the purple-red palace disintegrated under the fierce radiance. Slaanesh’s laughter abruptly ceased, replaced by an enraged shriek.
“Couldn’t you have used your power for something else, damn it! Our universe is gone! We need a foundation for existence! You and your kind need it too!”
Slaanesh roared in anger.
Bruce felt an irresistible force pulling him.
Dragging him back from the abyss of chaos. His vision was filled with pure gold, and at the end of that light, he vaguely saw a blurred figure.
A giant seated on a golden throne.
His face was withered, yet he emanated unparalleled majesty. His eyes burned with cold flames, staring directly at Bruce, as if able to pierce his soul.
“This is the only time, human from another world.” A deep and majestic voice echoed in Bruce’s mind, not as language, but as will directly imprinted on his consciousness.
The next second.
“Bang!”
Bruce jolted upright in bed, gasping for air.
His heart pounded, his muscles tensed, as if he had just experienced a life-or-death struggle.
“What happened?” Batman looked around blankly—the cold lights of the Batcave still shone, computer screens flickered with data, Alfred’s voice came through the communicator.
“Master, are you alright?” Bruce raised a hand to press his temples, trying to recall the dream, but the memory was like a erased videotape, leaving only blurry afterimages.
“I’m… fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Batman slowly stood up, guided by his intuition, he walked towards the metal cabinet where the Red Death’s corpse was stored, and inspected it—the containment measures were intact.
There was no abnormality with the corpse inside.
“What kind of dream did I just have.”
Batman removed his clothes and examined his entire body. He found no signs of corruption, yet his unease and horror grew.
Crucial information.
It seemed no trace had been left in his mind. However, out of caution, Batman quickly retrieved a metal box, and took the Red Death’s corpse back to the Batmobile.
The Batmobile sped out.
Rushing towards the distance.
“Is it because of this corpse, or have I already been contaminated?” Batman sensed something was wrong, but he didn’t know exactly what was wrong.
Two hours later.
The Mariana Trench.
The lead-grey clouds hung low, the sea surface churning with restless currents. The Batmobile hovered above the waves, its engine humming softly, its tail flame steaming fine mist in the humid air.
Bruce stood by the cabin door, silently gazing at the dark seawater. A few minutes ago, he had sealed the Red Death’s corpse in a container and temporarily stored it in a warehouse deep within this sea area.
“Affleck, close the underwater gate.”
Bruce said softly, his voice even more hoarse than usual.
“Completed, Master.” The butler’s voice came from the communicator, with a rare hint of hesitation. “What did you store in that place?”
To this.
Bruce did not answer. He reached out and grabbed the edge of the Batmobile’s cabin door, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy scent, swept towards him.
Like a silent warning.
He turned his head.
Glancing one last time at the sea area that had swallowed the Red Death.
The water surface had returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.
But the unease continued to gnaw at his nerves.
Something that had happened, might happen again at some point.
It had nothing to do with his alternate self, but with a certain state of his own—guilt? The thought struck Bruce’s consciousness like a thorn.
“I am the best test subject right now.”
The Batmobile drove away from the sea surface.
He still had no intention of seeking help.
Compared to before going to sleep.
Batman, Bruce Wayne, had clearly become more arrogant—some influence was still at play, and perhaps, this was not the first time he had been affected.
…
Metropolis.
On the old site of the Kent family home.
The brand new wooden house stood out prominently under the night sky, with the light of candles and flashlights flickering within. Superman truly lived up to his name; he managed to finish building a new home in just a few hours.
Who else could claim the title of strongest construction worker? In fact, Clark clearly had an interest and hobby in this area. Even after finishing the small wooden house, he was still up late making furniture.
“Zzzt zzzt~”
In the living room, which was much smaller than before, Clark used his heat vision to precisely carve the patterns of an oak chair. As the wood shavings scattered in the air, they carried a faint scent of roasted pine.
“Oh, Dad, you didn’t make a bulge in this area. Ian said this chair needs to be ergonomically designed, otherwise it will affect his inspiration while writing.”
Jonathan squatted nearby, assisting.
“Does Ian still need inspiration when he writes? Doesn’t it just come out when he speaks?” Clark’s mouth twitched, but he adjusted the angle and made another chair.
He was very satisfied with this new creation.
And at this very moment.
“Clark! Time to go to overtime!”
Lois’s voice came from the stairwell. She had changed into her professional attire and was holding a voice recorder and a notebook, but she froze upon seeing the scene in the living room.
“Puff puff puff puff~”
Only.
In the house, Second Brother Jordan was standing in the corner, his chest rising and falling dramatically, forming visible air vortexes in the room.
“What are you doing?” Lois’s eyes widened.
“Air purification.”
Jordan answered seriously, then took a deep breath, and all the dust in the living room converged towards his nose. “Ian said that newly renovated houses contain countless formaldehyde.”
“He gave me three hundred US dollars in labor fees to use my divine powers.” For some reason, Jordan’s tone was even a bit proud when he said this last sentence.
“…”
Lois’s gaze swept across the empty living room – besides the chairs Clark had just made, there wasn’t even a rug on the first floor. Her own clothes were old ones she had brought back from visiting her hometown.
“No, in this environment, all solid wood, what kind of formaldehyde could there be?” Mother looked around. The new house didn’t even have furniture, let alone her exclusive item 【Red Wine】.
Hearing this.
Clark’s expression was slightly awkward.
“I gave Ian six hundred US dollars. He said he could handle these burnt smells.” Clark’s super smell was very sensitive, and he was still not used to the smell of the new house.
“???????”
Lois looked at her second son, who had started breathing in again.
“Did you hear that! Ian took six hundred US dollars!”
She reminded Jordan, hoping he would come to his senses.
However.
“Fifty-fifty, it’s very fair. He provided the wisdom, I provided the effort. Everyone is tricking… everyone got the hard-earned money from their parents.” Jordan truly had a special super brain.
This answer made Lois cover her forehead.
“Where is Ian?”
She knew very well who was forcing her to work overtime again tonight.
The heroic sacrifice of the Son of Superman?
Thinking about the manuscript she had to finish tonight, Lois felt a headache coming on.
“He said he and Wonder Woman have established a very deep friendship, and he wants to write a book for Wonder Woman titled 《Catwoman, Don’t Look Back, I’m Batman》.”
Jonathan answered his mother.
“It’s 《Wonder Woman Treated Me Like Zeus All Those Years》.”
Jordan refuted.
“…”
Clark and Lois looked at each other in silence.
Meanwhile.
Was Ian really writing a book?
Not so.
He was actually taking advantage of everyone not paying attention in the new house’s new restroom, enjoying the feeling of taking his first dump – as an Evil God, he could defecitate whenever he pleased.
However.
Life is unpredictable.
【Dimension data has been extracted.】
【Loading.】
He had only just begun to feel the urge to defecate.
Ian only felt his vision blur.
The next moment, he heard cheers.
