Chapter 143: Battle’s End, Pope And Ian
Odin’s Power.
One of the awe-inspiring and fearsome powers in the Marvel Universe.
It is wielded by the King of Asgard and can achieve incredible feats—one of its abilities is to distort the dimensions at the boundary between reality and illusion.
It’s as if Odin’s single eye can see through all falsehoods. Ian can use it to blast the King in Yellow, who seems to exist and not exist, with an action that can be entirely reasonably explained.
Especially after changing its name to Ultraman Power, Ian himself felt it was reasonable. This has little to do with the King in Yellow being blasted off God’s throne.
“Tiga Bomb!”
【 Body severely damaged, Berserker Experience Points +33】
“Sun Soup replenishment!”
【 Your body has received energy replenishment, Entropy Lord Experience Points +46】
“Tiga Bomb is here again!”
【 Body severely damaged, Berserker Experience Points +33】
…
Ian’s Ultraman Power is exceptionally fierce.
With the great power to influence illusion and reality.
It didn’t just blast the entire Holy City into the sky. White light appeared again and again, and amidst the explosions, it eventually consumed the entire sanctuary where the angels roamed.
It even consumed the Garden of the Angels.
If not for an invisible force blocking it, it might have also engulfed the area where Dean and Sam stood, as the explosions continued incessantly, with brilliant white pillars of light shooting straight into the sky.
The King in Yellow’s body began to burn.
The eternally unchanging yellow fabric showed scorch marks.
“Stop resisting? I don’t have much light left!” Ian shouted, but the light radiating from him grew brighter and brighter. The King in Yellow tried to break free, but the spider legs were as if welded on, unmoving.
In the scorching explosion.
Vaguely visible, Ian, like an octopus, was tightly clinging to another “tentacled monster” in a yellow robe covered in tentacles, and perhaps, only one of them was truly unnamable.
“Damn it! Why are you still resisting! Just kidding! I have plenty of light left! Super Tiga Bomb!” The thirteenth wave of explosions made both Dean and Sam feel the ground shake.
It’s hard to imagine someone’s tone being so excited while self-destructing, as if they weren’t entangled with an evil creature, but were instead having an intimate embrace with a young maiden.
The King in Yellow, still burning all over from the blast, tried to tear Ian off himself.
However.
It was not successful.
Its tentacles, like chains from the abyss, whipped and tore at Ian frantically, yet they couldn’t stop Ian’s “clingy” adhesion. How could this not be considered a form of external contamination.
【 Berserker Experience Points +3】
【 Error data, unable to absorb.】
【 Berserker Experience Points +2】
【 Error data, unable to absorb.】
…
In fact, the King in Yellow’s attacks not only failed to contaminate Ian but also provided him with some small rewards. The inability to absorb erroneous data naturally meant that Ian could not be contaminated.
He couldn’t become Cthulhu Ian.
“Sun Soup replenishment!”
Ian didn’t take out his thermos, but he could open an extra dimension in his mouth. The Kryptonian Ancient God thermos stored in the extra dimension was also absorbing energy in a unique way.
The energy of the True Kryptonian Sun God enveloped his damaged body, healing his wounds and reigniting his fighting spirit.
Rumble—!
The entire space trembled in the explosion.
Impure substances surged from the King in Yellow’s body, trying to envelop Ian. It was no use; it tried to break free, but Ian was like a curse stuck to its body.
It couldn’t shake him off.
“I can still blast even without light! Actually, I don’t just have light in my heart, but also… Fel Tiga Bomb!” Ian had been infected by Fel Energy, and he had always stored Fel Energy in his liver.
Nurturing it in secret.
And now.
It erupted together with Odin’s Power.
Boom—!
Another fierce explosion, with white and green light illuminating almost everything. As the King in Yellow’s form continuously distorted, the black mist on its body began to dissipate.
“I can’t finish blasting! My light is endless! This is the power of the King of Angels!” This final wave of explosions was the most terrifying, with green and white energy intertwined.
Forming a massive energy vortex.
The entire Heaven was submerged in blinding light.
When the light dissipated, only a slowly dissipating mushroom cloud remained in the sky. Two small black dots were faintly visible streaking across the sky, finally turning into two shining stars.
“By the way, does anyone know what’s above Heaven?”
Dean and Sam were craning their necks, studying the celestial structure of Heaven.
“What are you looking at?” A cold voice came from beside them.
The two brothers turned sharply and saw a man, as beautiful as to be sharp, standing beside them at some unknown point. His hair was golden and flowed like a waterfall, and white flames danced in his eyes.
Most terrifying was his expression—as if someone owed him several millennia of unpaid wages.
Before the Winchester brothers could speak, the man drew a circle in the sky. A golden halo expanded, and Ian and the King in Yellow, who had already turned into stars, were enclosed within it.
They were removed from Heaven.
“Who are you?!” Dean instinctively reached for his waist—however, his demon-hunting gun was already long gone. This boy might have felt that the suddenly appearing person was hostile.
Perhaps it was something that had counter-attacked Heaven, a type of demon.
“Shut your mouth, I need silence.” The man didn’t even spare them a glance, his gaze fixed on the ruined Holy City in the distance, the flames in his eyes burning more intensely.
“He is the true King of Angels, Michael.”
Another voice rang out.
The brothers turned and saw a black-haired angel in a decent robe walking slowly towards them. He wore a gentle smile, and his every movement exuded the scholarly elegance of a learned person.
“Are you all angels?” Sam’s voice trembled slightly.
“Yes.”
The black-haired angel nodded slightly.
“I am Uriel, responsible for restraining the scope of influence under the will of the Lord.”
He introduced himself.
At this moment, Michael finally turned his head, his flame-like gaze fixed on Uriel.
“Restraining? That fellow blew up the Holy City.” His tone was terrifyingly calm, like the dead silence before a storm, as if questioning Uriel’s potential dereliction of duty.
Uriel’s smile froze on his face.
“Uh…”
He touched his nose.
“I suppose, even I cannot predict everything.”
The wry smile that Ian often failed to show was materialized on Uriel’s face.
Michael’s eyes did not move.
He stared intently at the Archangel Uriel.
Facing the strongest angel, Uriel was also a bit intimidated.
He quickly made an explanation.
“Mainly, I didn’t expect that Amanadiel, who was supposed to guard the Holy City, would believe that other angels were infected and thus couldn’t escape the Lord’s punishment himself.”
“His faith in the Lord is too devout, and so… he descended to the mortal realm along with the other angels.” His expression was peculiar, clearly indicating that even a Cherub had lost its mind.
His wisdom had failed to predict that Amanadiel would actually lack wisdom. Although contamination couldn’t affect Amanadiel, Amanadiel chose “self-deception.”
In response.
Michael couldn’t help but rub his temples after hearing this.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have let that fellow in. His boldness is greater than I anticipated.” Michael’s tone was filled with regret; he truly found it hard to imagine someone daring to blast God’s abode.
Uriel stood to the side, hands clasped within the sleeves of his robe, his expression calm.
“If you hadn’t opened the door, he would have come in anyway.” He tilted his head slightly, looking towards the area where Ian had walked previously, “We could all see how brilliant the glory radiating from him was.”
“Even surpassing yours and mine.”
Uriel was clearly hinting at something.
“What do you mean by that?” Michael suddenly turned his head, his white pupils filled with a scrutinizing gaze, his voice low and carrying a dangerous undertone.
“No one dares to blast God’s abode, unless that person…” Uriel didn’t answer directly but looked up at the sky of Heaven, as if pondering something.
His words were not finished.
“Don’t overthink it, that boy isn’t God. It’s just that the Lord’s gaze has lingered on him more than usual.” Michael interrupted coldly, his tone decisive.
Uriel did not back down, instead, he chuckled softly.
“Then tell me, how long has it been since you last heard His voice?” This time, he was not timid but looked directly at Michael, his tone full of meaning.
Michael’s expression turned unusually grim.
He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a cold laugh: “Do you think you can shake my faith this way? Stop trying to influence me and put away your little tricks.”
“Afterward, I will also advise you, Uriel—don’t be too clever, constantly trying to decipher the Lord’s thoughts.” With that, he suddenly unfurled his incredibly brilliant wings.
His figure transformed into a blinding white light and disappeared into the horizon.
Uriel quietly watched the direction he had left, his eyes showing no fluctuation. He slowly turned to face the Winchesters—Dean and Sam—standing on the grass.
At this moment, Dean and Sam were exchanging bewildered glances. The conversation they had just had was too information-heavy for them to process immediately. Sam hesitated before unable to resist asking.
“Is Ian really an angel?”
He still couldn’t quite accept Ian’s previous demeanor. Look at how cool Michael was when he left, those full-effect wings were completely different from what Ian called wings.
“That is not a question for you to ask.” Uriel maintained his smile. His voice was soft, yet carried an unquestionable tone. Even when facing mortals, angels couldn’t entirely shed their pride.
“Alright, we just want to go home now.”
Dean didn’t want to embarrass himself further.
He wanted to leave this damned Heaven as soon as possible.
“Of course, that’s not a problem. You don’t belong here.” Uriel turned his head, his deep gaze falling on Dean, the corners of his mouth curving into a gentle yet enigmatic smile.
“However, that will take some time. Before that, whatever you wish for, just tell me.” His voice was gentle, with a comforting tone.
Dean raised an eyebrow and said without hesitation: “Alcohol.”
Sam glanced at his older brother, then said softly: “…Mom.”
Dean sharply turned his head: “You can do that?”
Uriel chuckled: “Anything.”
As his words fell, the surrounding light distorted slightly, as if some unseen force was weaving reality. However, amidst Dean and Sam’s expectant gazes.
Uriel slowly spoke again.
“However, you must also promise me a small request.”
His tone was as gentle as ever.
But at this moment, Dean immediately became alert.
“What request?”
The older of the Winchester brothers’ eyes were filled with wariness. Uriel’s gaze swept past Dean, settling on Sam—or rather, his eyes were fixed on Lucifer’s vessel.
“I want to put something in your younger brother’s body.”
Uriel softly stated his request.
The air became somewhat subtle.
“No problem.”
Sam agreed with a nod, almost without hesitation.
He desperately wanted to know what kind of person his mother was.
“Wait! Wait!” Dean suddenly blocked his younger brother, staring at Uriel with wide eyes, “You don’t mean a ‘certain part’ that grows on your body, do you?”
The wariness in the young man’s eyes deepened.
“???????”
The Cherub’s smile stiffened for the second time.
After a few seconds of silence, Uriel took a deep breath, struggling to maintain an elegant tone, “No, it’s not. It’s just some small secrets that are harmless to him.”
“I want to hide them in a place no one would expect.” Angels may not like to lie, but like Ian, most of them don’t tell the whole truth most of the time.
Dean and Sam were still too young.
“Secrets?”
Dean was somewhat conflicted.
But before he could inquire further, Uriel lightly waved his hand—the next second, a bottle of wine, shimmering with golden light, appeared in the air.
The wine flowed slowly in the bottle, as if containing the brilliance of the stars. And beside the wine, a familiar figure gradually solidified—Mary Winchester.
The mother of the Winchester brothers stood there, gazing at them tenderly. Sam looked a little shaky, and Dean was also stunned. Mary opened her arms to them at this moment.
The two brothers instinctively rushed forward.
Embracing her tightly.
Uriel stood to the side, quietly watching the scene, his eyes deep. His fingertip moved slightly, and a barely perceptible strand of light silently entered Sam’s back. Neither Dean nor Sam noticed the fleeting light, as they were still immersed in the warmth of their reunion.
The Cherub’s action was very subtle.
Almost no one could see it—the reason it’s “almost” is because Michael was an eyewitness. He hadn’t truly left, but was gazing at all of this from the ethereal heavens.
However.
Even after witnessing Uriel’s action, the King of Seraphim did not intervene. He merely watched quietly, and after a moment, his gaze returned to the mortal world.
Ian and the King in Yellow’s figures were reflected in his pupils—after being banished by Michael using his authority, the two unclean beings in Michael’s eyes directly fell towards the mortal world.
“Boom!!!”
“BOOM!!!”
On Saint Peter’s Square in the Vatican, a blinding fireball descended from the sky and smashed down next to the obelisk in the center. Gravel flew, dust kicked up, and tourists screamed and scattered.
Through the dust, Ian, covered in dirt, got up, his eight spider legs clicking and unfolding again. He shook his head and immediately saw the King in Yellow lying at the bottom of the crater—his once mysterious yellow robe was now tattered, and half of his hood was torn, revealing a distorted form beneath.
He was very weak.
But only weak.
The seemingly burned yellow fabric was turning into fine dust that dispersed into the air, and this airborne dust would suddenly distort at certain angles.
Each particle of dust had a sickly, dark yellow sheen, refracting dizzying, distorted halos in the sunlight—an indescribable smell permeated the air, not foul, not fragrant, like trying to recall a scent that never existed, where the emptiness itself was part of the pollution.
The invisible pollution spread outwards.
“Oh! My God! What happened!”
“They fell from the sky… my eyes, why are my eyes falling out!”
“Don’t look! Don’t look at them!”
……
The surrounding tourists were stunned, some screaming and calling the police, some kneeling in prayer, and more just stood frozen, unable to believe they were being contaminated. Their eyeballs began to twitch in unison, pupils dilating and contracting, as if resisting an image that was invading their optic nerves.
Some knelt and prayed.
I didn’t expect it to actually work.
So.
More and more people rushed into the church.
Receiving the last trace of divine protection left in the church.
Outside.
The city was falling on a large scale.
The water in the fountain had at some point turned a foul color, and countless blurry human faces appeared on its surface. These faces had no features, only constantly opening and closing mouths.
Simultaneously repeating nonsensical ramblings that no one could understand.
“No, I’ve worked this hard, why won’t you just die.” Without a word, Ian pounced, straddled the King in Yellow, and grabbed him tightly by the neck.
Returning to the human world.
This was a situation Ian had not foreseen.
He was in a very confined city, and he couldn’t use the Ultra Bomb as freely as he wished, so he had to start building up his mental fortitude.
“Eat it, or should I eat it… it’s hard to eat, and there’s no experience or reward…” Ian freed one hand and drew the Holy Sword from his back.
He really couldn’t stomach sashimi Cthulhu.
He wanted to try other things.
This weapon, which had gone on strike in Heaven, was now rekindled with a blazing Holy Flame.
“Ha! As expected, without that damned chair, you’re just a higher-class Evil God!” Ian was overjoyed and didn’t hesitate to stab the Holy Sword into the King in Yellow’s chest.
This time, the blade didn’t miss.
The pure white flames surged along the blade into the King in Yellow’s body. The yellow robe began to burn, the fabric twisting and carbonizing in the flames, revealing an unspeakable chaos beneath. Strangely, the King in Yellow still made no sound, merely gazing at Ian as if contemplating something.
His true nature had been exposed.
Under the scorching of the Holy Sword, the superficial “human form” was torn away, revealing countless intertwined, unspeakable, writhing tentacles and a terrifying core that was difficult for ordinary people to look at directly.
The pollution spread, as if an invisible hand was toying with the boundaries of reality. The air was filled with an indescribable scent, like decaying sanity.
Or like a song filled with filth.
People fell one after another, their bodies twisting, mutating, their pupils displaying patterns not of this world, and their mouths murmuring ancient words.
Everyone was chanting the gospel of the King in Yellow. Perhaps the continuous scorching of the Holy Sword could end the King in Yellow, but at this moment, Ian knew he didn’t have the time for a prolonged battle.
“As expected, two divine artifacts sent into my hands were bound to have their use.” Seeing countless people suffering, he quickly took out the god-slaying spear, Colt.
To be honest.
He had not predicted falling out of Heaven. Ian didn’t hesitate, took out the Colt god-slayer, raised the muzzle, and aimed at the exposed essence of the King in Yellow’s forehead.
He pulled the trigger.
“Bang—!”
A crisp gunshot pierced heaven and earth, as if time itself had stopped at that moment. At this moment, Ian seemed to see the trajectory of the bullet through the air.
The bullet flew out of the barrel.
There were no flashy special effects, no dazzling lights, nor earth-shattering explosions; the bullet, shining with the iron law of rules, directly pierced the King in Yellow.
This artifact, capable of killing anything, first bestowed the concept of death upon the King in Yellow, and then, using this concept as a weakness, domineeringly shot through His essence.
The King in Yellow’s body shuddered violently, the floating eyes instantly closed, the tentacles stopped writhing, and the entire existence seemed to be struck by some invisible law. For the first time, He showed an expression of “pain,” although that face did not belong to any known visage or emotional system of any creature.
The color on the King in Yellow began to fade, like a mural washed away by rain, the colors peeling off layer by layer, and the black mist that had once coiled around him gradually dissipated.
Death.
Had arrived.
The unspeakable Evil God’s entire body felt like a statue.
It was continuously cracking.
“I will return.” He finally spoke to Ian for the first time, without any emotional fluctuation, his voice a whisper directly in the depths of Ian’s mind.
“No, you won’t return.” Ian aimed the Colt at the Necronomicon, which had fallen from Heaven with him and the King in Yellow, and was now lying quietly on the ground not far away.
This was the true origin.
If God had given Ian two bullets, it meant he definitely had to fire two shots—Ian understood this and once again, without hesitation, aimed at the Necronomicon and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot exploded in the night, like a thunderbolt of divine punishment. The second bullet whizzed out, traversing the air, and accurately hit the evil cult scripture named 《Necronomicon》.
There was no explosion.
The Necronomicon began to crack.
The cover, which had originally had a strange luster, began to fade rapidly, as if being dissolved by some invisible force. As the spine cracked, dark shadows gushed out from the fissures.
It was no ordinary book; it was a forbidden container. Initially, only a few thread-like black shadows seeped from the spine’s cracks, but in the blink of an eye, they expanded into a tide that blotted out the sky.
Those shadows writhed.
They writhed like mist, wailed like ghosts, and were the sighs of the unspeakable. Ineffable darkness swirled and roared in the air, obscuring the sky.
On the stained-glass windows of the distant church, the faces of saints were slowly melting. The last divine power, amidst this chaos of demons, could no longer protect the people hiding within.
“Oh! No!!”
“Someone save us! I don’t want to turn into a monster!”
“It’s over! It’s over!”
On the dome mural, between God’s finger and Adam’s finger, twisted tentacles had quietly appeared. Every tourist who looked up saw this detail.
The church was being eroded.
The entire city was being eroded.
Every shadow stretched out countless claw-like arms, reaching out in all directions. The air was polluted, the light was swallowed, and the sky above the entire Vatican was instantly plunged into darkness.
It was as if the end of the world had arrived.
“So, the King in Yellow was just the first individual to invade and revive, and the Necronomicon still hides so many evil Cthulhu creatures.” Ian stood in place, looking up at the sky.
He could feel the presence of those black shadows—each one was an afterimage of a Cthulhu god. Some resembled octopuses, some were as huge as mountains, and some were formless.
All the shadows were constantly splitting and replicating, invading the boundaries of reality like a virus. Those black shadows blotted out the sky, circling in the air, emitting roars that did not belong to any language system. A black sedan, while fleeing, was hit by a black shadow and instantly rolled over, crashing into a nearby stone pillar.
The sound of metal deforming mixed with screams.
The silver cross hanging on the rearview mirror had corroded into the shape of a blinking eye. The “huge” Pope and a group of clergy emerged from it.
“This is when the Holy Sword should be used.” Ian drew the Holy Sword, which was burning on the remains of the King in Yellow. The King in Yellow’s final form instantly disintegrated into ashes.
He raised the Holy Sword sharply—and swung it with all his might.
Under the dumbfounded gaze of the Pope and a group of bishops, the young man pointed his sword, and the pure white Holy Flame poured down like a celestial river, turning into a light torrent that pierced heaven and earth.
The Holy Flame swept out with destructive force. Wherever it passed, the black shadows evaporated before they could even cry out, their defiled souls melting like snow in boiling water within the pure Holy Flame.
Instantly dissolved.
Ashes were falling.
【Anomaly data analysis complete. New general data—Myriad Manifestations—has been added to your 【Mimic Armor】.】 The system suddenly appeared and gave a prompt at this moment.
“No, where’s my new profession.” Ian walked to the remains of the Necronomicon. At this moment, the Necronomicon had turned back into a black notebook.
He held it in his hand but received no system feedback.
“Where’s the Outer Universe, where’s the Outer Universe hidden inside.” Ian shook the Death Note, but nothing came out. He angrily threw the Death Note to the ground and stomped on it a few times.
Seeing that there were still residual black shadows wriggling on the ground.
Ian swung the Holy Sword again.
The pure white radiance washed over every corner of the square like a tide. It reflected on every shocked face, those pupils that had been eroded by pollution.
These people, contaminated by the Outer Universe, had wisps of black mist appearing all over their bodies. They let out silent screams in the flames and then turned to ash.
A priest tremblingly raised his hand.
He looked at the strange runes on his skin that were dissolving like ice and snow. His eyes regained clarity from the chaos, and his lips trembled but he could not speak.
“Oh, what happened?”
“My God! We are saved!”
“Who is that person? A superhero?”
“I feel like he’s an angel descending to the human world!”
Everyone regained clarity under the illumination of the Holy Flame—the entire sky was also lit up, as if dawn had arrived early, and Ian stood at the most dazzling point of this light.
“You should be one of us!”
The residual black shadows behind him tried to counterattack.
But they spontaneously combusted within a hundred meters of proximity.
Turning into scattered embers.
The people stood frozen, their gazes converging on the center of the square. The boy stood by the broken obelisk, a dazzling youth like a judge from mythology.
The burning sword in his hand was gradually extinguishing.
But this did not affect the emotions surging in people’s hearts as they gazed at him.
“Very good, all merit, full of merit, all Master Ian’s merit.” Ian looked around and nodded with satisfaction, then strode towards the Pope, who was sitting on the ground.
The Pope’s aged face was filled with shock. He looked up at the approaching youth, his fingers unconsciously gripping his robes. At this moment, the Pope felt as if he had regained his faith.
“Are you an angel?”
The Pope asked in an incredibly devout voice. For a moment, he felt as if he had seen the Seraphim described in ancient texts descending, holy and unseeable.
“Mhm, you guys actually forgot to worship one angel, which is me, but I don’t mind, you can worship me more later.” Ian had not awakened a new profession.
So he wanted to salvage his benefits.
The young man’s voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone’s ears.
“May I know which one you are…” The Pope’s throat bobbed. He didn’t even dare to tremble, just stared at the mimic nylon stockings wings that had suddenly appeared behind Ian.
They were wings woven from pure nylon stockings.
Myriad Manifestations.
Not only could it mimic the forms of Cthulhu gods.
“Of course, I am the Nylon Stockings Superman who ascended after death and turned into the Nylon Stockings Heavenly…” Ian was about to announce his grand title when a familiar female voice suddenly sounded behind him.
“It seems you’ve experienced another story that belongs to you.”
It was Miss Death, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time.
She had indeed arrived long ago.
Ian turned to look and saw Miss Death leaning on the edge of the fountain, the hem of her black long dress swaying gently in the wind, holding the Death Note covered in footprints.
“It’s pure garbage, I tried it. I wrote 【Pervert Who Likes Little Boys】 on it, but the Pope and these bishops are still alive. Pure, utter garbage Death Note.”
Ian pointed at the Pope and the clergy in front of him.
“??????”
Not only did Miss Death’s expression freeze on her face, but even the trembling Pope and the cardinals, upon hearing this, recoiled in horror.
They didn’t know who Ian was talking to, but they knew they had narrowly escaped death again. Several clergy members huddled together and shivered.
Ian ignored them and stared at the notebook in Miss Death’s hand.
“There doesn’t seem to be any Outer Universe fragment inside?”
He voiced his lingering concern.
To this.
Miss Death nodded and replied, “This is just a carrier for smuggling. In fact, I think the homeland of these dirty things hasn’t truly been destroyed.”
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s likely that for some reason, these anomalous beings chose to abandon their original power and escape from their not-yet-destroyed universe.”
Her slender fingers lightly caressed the cover of the 《Death Note》.
“Coming to visit without a gift is too rude.” Ian was still lamenting that he had only gained Mimicry Ability, which was useless. His monstrous face was more terrifying than the forms of Cthulhu gods.
“Can’t we counterattack their universe?” The unyielding little boy, holding the Holy Sword, was full of confidence. He felt he still had a chance to consume fragments of the Cthulhu world’s universe.
Hearing this, Miss Death closed the book and sighed softly.
“Then we have to find out where it originally came from—I didn’t expect this book to have been hidden in Heaven all along.” There was a hint of annoyance in her tone.
Clearly, she had searched desperately for it before and never found it.
The square was silent.
Even the Pope remained kneeling, frozen in place, completely unaware of who Ian was talking to. However, he could sense that he had heard something extraordinary.
“So, can you find out who first brought it to our universe?” Ian’s mask shifted a few times with a “click,” and the large mouth on the mask formed an annoyed expression.
“Perhaps, but there’s a tricky problem now. Some power is interfering with my investigation.” Miss Death, her tone puzzled, weighed the Death Note in her hand.
“Is it the boss of the Cthulhus?”
Ian speculated that the Cthulhu creatures might have escaped their original universe because the invasion of the Outer Universe had disturbed their master, the so-called blind, idiotic god Azathoth.
“My omniscience doesn’t cover the Outer Universe.” Although Miss Death said she didn’t know, her gaze increasingly drifted towards the short sword in Ian’s hand, which had already extinguished its Holy Flame.
Obviously.
Miss Death had a guess in her heart.
It was just that she didn’t have as much courage as Ian.
“Regardless, the residual pollution hasn’t been completely resolved. You should probably go back to your city and help your family.” Miss Death suddenly changed the subject.
“Metropolis is in trouble again?”
Ian knocked out several clergymen before he spoke.
To prevent them from overhearing the fact that the Stocking Angel was still alive in the human world.
“It’s not a big problem, but then a dozen more angels fell from Heaven and all crashed into Metropolis,” Miss Death said, raising her hand to show Ian an image.
Only then.
In the image, more real than any HD movie, Ian saw his deskmate, the little punk girl, holding the staff he gave her, banging on the heads of several unconscious angels.
A lot of foul mucus seeped out of the damaged bodies of these angels, trying to pollute the surroundings. Jordan was protecting Jonathan, who was unconscious for some unknown reason.
“What happened to my eldest brother?”
Ian immediately became nervous.
“Who knows.”
Miss Death’s eyes flickered slightly.
…
Just as Ian flew into the sky.
On the other side—Jonathan Kent was curled up in endless darkness. He blamed himself for being useless and for causing his loved ones and Ian’s friends to be in danger.
“I thought they were just a few unconscious bystanders… I didn’t expect so many monsters to come out of them,” Jonathan hugged his knees in the dark.
He deeply regretted his excessive kindness.
He didn’t know if he was already in Hell. His last memory was of Jordan and his younger brother fighting hard against strangely shaped mucus creatures.
Jonathan had originally wanted to help with tools he found by the roadside, but he suddenly felt a heavy blow to his head, making him dizzy, and then he fell into this boundless darkness.
Just like the nightmares he had before.
As Jonathan searched everywhere and couldn’t find his statue, he began to pray to the gods, asking for only himself to be punished and hoping the gods would lend a hand to Jordan and Madison, who were under attack.
And at this moment.
Suddenly, a ray of light pierced the darkness.
Jonathan looked up blankly, finding the surrounding darkness receding like a tide, replaced by a pure white space—no sky, no ground, no boundaries, just a soft white. In the distance, an old leather sofa sat alone, and in front of it, a television was playing a program.
“What’s going on?”
Jonathan hesitantly stood up and walked towards the sofa. The sofa was empty, but the television was showing 《 Armor Hero 》—the tokusatsu drama Ian loved to watch the most as a child.
It seemed he still loved watching it as he grew up.
At this moment, the hero on the screen had just lost his transformation ability but was still standing in front of the monsters to protect the civilians.
“Even without the ability to transform, I can still defeat you!” The protagonist on TV wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his determined voice reaching Jonathan’s ears through the speakers.
“Can you really be a hero without strength? Like me, I only cause trouble…” Jonathan sighed bitterly, not knowing why he was dreaming of such a scene.
The story on the television continued.
A group of young people in armor fought side by side, unhesitatingly facing evil. They were not deities, nor were they invincible beings, but they possessed faith, courage, and a spirit of sacrifice.
“A true hero is not measured by how much weight you can lift, but by how much responsibility you are willing to bear for others,” one of the figures seemed to be lecturing the villain.
Or perhaps speaking to the viewers outside the television.
“Like Father and Ian?”
Jonathan murmured softly.
Just then.
A gentle voice sounded in his ear.
“Why can’t it be you? Everyone has their own story. Perhaps, your legend has just not begun yet.” The voice appeared very abruptly.
Jonathan turned around sharply and saw an old man in pajamas walking slowly towards him. His hair was white, his face carried a kind smile, but his eyes were as deep as the stars in the sky.
“You are…?”
Jonathan asked hesitantly.
The old man didn’t answer, but walked to the television and reached out to take a silver belt from the screen. It looked brand new, with a prominent slot in the center.
“If you are so eager to help others, perhaps I can offer you some assistance.” The old man handed the belt to him, placing it directly into Jonathan’s hands.
“This is just a dream, right? Or… is some evil god bewitching me again?” Jonathan wanted to return the belt, but found that it was stuck to his hand.
“What is this…”
He widened his eyes.
“It’s the miracle you wished for,” the old man said softly. He finally smiled slightly at Jonathan, turned, and walked towards the white expanse, his figure gradually disappearing into the vast white space.
The surrounding white space began to fade.
Jonathan’s eyes snapped open.
The piercing sound of metal clashing and shouts immediately flooded his ears.
“Quick, quick, go find Ian! I’m out of strength, these guys’ heads are so hard, I can’t smash them!” Madison’s voice came from the defense line not far away.
Accompanied by a dull “bang,” like a streetlight pole hitting something hard.
“You’re a witch! A witch!”
Jordan’s shouts were filled with panic.
“Ian said witches are like this!” Madison retorted breathlessly, “Learning magic is just showing off talent. When you encounter enemies you can’t beat with magic, you have to use real methods!”
Another series of “thump thump” sounds, accompanied by the hoarse howls of some creature.
Jonathan struggled to push himself up.
He found himself lying in a makeshift isolation room.
“Like that notebook, things from the dream have appeared in reality.” Jonathan looked down at his waist, where a sci-fi-looking belt was quietly wrapped around him.
The slot in the center of the belt emitted a faint blue light.
Not only the belt was glowing.
Even the statues he had collected—Zeus, Odin, Shiva… all the statues were now shining with a strange light, as if responding to the belt’s call.
Among all the flashing statues.
The Shiva statue, which always ate all the curry rice offered to it, shone the brightest. Jonathan, as if possessed, grabbed the Shiva statue and inserted it into the slot of the belt.
“Click.”
A crisp click of engagement sounded, and in an instant, dazzling light erupted from the belt!
“Boom—!!!”
Amidst the deafening explosion.
The temporary shelter built from car parts collapsed. Madison and Jordan, who were fighting monsters, turned back in astonishment to see a figure emerge from the sky filled with flying metal fragments.
It was a figure enveloped in four-armed armor, and most striking was the flowing fiery hair, each flame dancing with the rhythm of destruction and rebirth.
“Jordan! What did I tell you! People need faith! When I get back, I’ll ask Ian to consecrate his statue for me!” Jordan’s familiar voice came from within the armor.
“????????!!!”
Jordan was dumbfounded.
He and Madison stared in astonishment at the forehead of the fully-special-effected armor, a resplendent divine light shot out, and then annihilated all the pollution derivatives flowing from the fallen angels on the ground. Following that, this “Armor Hero” spread all four arms, and the drumbeat of the dance of destruction suddenly resounded through heaven and earth.
The corrupted matter from the fallen angels danced with the drumbeat—and then moved towards destruction.
“This works too?”
“Your eldest brother went to India for further studies!”
This scene.
Besides Jordan and Madison.
There was actually a third party witnessing it.
“Tsk tsk tsk~”
Los Angeles.
Bar of Light.
Lucifer sat in front of more than a dozen television screens, his wine glass, brought to his lips, paused slightly. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the image on one of the televisions.
“What’s with that mortal? How did a belt appear out of nowhere in his hand, and how did he transform using it?” The female demon bartender leaned in front of the TV with a look of astonishment.
Lucifer did not answer.
He just stared at the screen of the television.
Taking a small sip of his drink.
“What else could it be… it’s exactly what you think it is.” Finally, Lucifer gave a rather unpleasant answer, mainly because he thought of someone who made him unhappy.
“Superman’s eldest son got the support of your bastard father? That old guy always said he didn’t like to interfere with human life and free will, didn’t he?”
As a demon, the female bartender had no respect for God whatsoever.
Hearing this.
Lucifer was pleased with the bartender’s attitude.
“That’s the most interesting part.” He reached out towards his wine glass, and a bit of Hell’s frost permeated out, chilling the whiskey in the glass.
“That’s actually just a toy from Amazon for nineteen-ninety-nine with free shipping, yes, don’t look at me like that, even in its current state it’s just a toy with free shipping… that’s why I say this universe is really interesting.” Lucifer shifted his gaze to another television displaying a 【 Evil God Funny Face 】.
“Earth 53.”
The Lord of Hell whispered softly.
“Huh? We’re on Earth 53?”
The female bartender looked at her master with some confusion. As far as she knew, there should only be 52 Earths in the multiverse, so how could a number 53 appear?
