Chapter 236: Ian’s Betrayed Friends
As the saying goes, those who commit many unjust acts will surely bring about their own demise.
Perhaps Ian is about to use his own actual situation to illustrate this point for everyone.
The Dark Lord Darkseid is taking action.
And at the other end of Earth, the followers of Sangong Mo have already begun, like sharks smelling blood, to quietly dive into the deep sea of information searching for everything about Ian Kent.
This night is far from over for many people.
Undercurrents are surging in deeper, darker places.
At the edge of the universe, a realm of absolute void that even starlight cannot reach.
There is no matter, no energy here, and even the concept of time is blurred and unclear. Only eternal darkness and silence, enough to devour all hope. Even the most fearless interstellar explorers dare not steer their spaceships into this airspace marked as the “absolute forbidden zone.”
However, in the center of this void where even deities might feel lonely, an enormous figure filled with majesty and destruction is quietly hovering.
He is no other.
It is Darkseid.
On his rock-like body, the marks left from when he was purified by Ian’s “Earth’s United Fist” still remain, like fine golden lines cracking on porcelain.
The wounds are like maggots in the bones.
Even after resurrection, the influence they caused could not be eliminated.
Of course, these lines are being covered and repaired by even deeper darkness at a speed visible to the naked eye, but it is a process that seems endlessly long.
Darkseid raises his hand and gently touches his face.
Hatred.
Resentment.
Filling his heart.
His scarlet eyes burning with the Omega Effect are colder and deeper than ever, as if containing two black holes about to erupt.
“I will make a comeback again.”
He now has nothing.
Apokolips has been erased by an unknown existence, the massive Parademons legion has been reduced to ashes, and the loyal Dark Elites have vanished without a trace. A monarch has lost his kingdom, his army, his foundation.
But!
He has not weakened because of this; instead, he emits an even more dangerous, heart-palpitating aura. A sense of absolute authority, as if touching the source rules of the universe, is emerging.
“Hmph…”
A low, cold snort as if from the depths of an ancient glacier breaks the dead silence of the void. Darkseid slowly raises one arm covered in pitch-black armor.
He clenches his fist fiercely toward the endless darkness ahead!
No earth-shattering explosion, no flash of surging energy. But the moment his palm closes, the absolute void in front of him begins to twist and boil! As if an invisible giant brush made of rules is madly creating, using darkness as the canvas and memory as the pigment!
Matter is forcibly extracted from the void and shaped! Energy is given form from the conceptual level! The structure of space is brutally rewritten!
The outline of a massive, hideous living planet covered with rivers of lava and terrifying spires begins to take shape from blur to clarity at an astonishing speed!
It manifests completely out of thin air!
That is Apokolips!
But not the original true Apokolips.
Rather, it is a projection recreated by Darkseid with his supreme will and some newly acquired power, based on his own memory and cognition!
A replica constructed jointly by the pure power of the Dark New God and the authority of reality alteration!
This astonishing scene, if witnessed by those ancient existences in the universe, would surely shock them to the core! This has surpassed mere energy creation; it is creation from nothing, the supreme great power of altering reality!
It is absolutely not a ability Darkseid originally possessed! This experience of death and rebirth seems to have allowed him to touch a certain even more terrifying, more essential source of power.
The recreated “Apokolips” quietly hovers in the void. Though it lacks the surging vitality of a true living planet, the dark aura and destructive will emanating from it are identical to the original Apokolips. From those spires, tooth-grinding noises begin to emerge.
It is the sound of flesh and machinery fusing.
And—low, orderly roars!
Parademons!
Endless, newborn Parademons are swarming out from the incubation pools in those spires like a tide!
Their twisted bodies, scarlet compound eyes, and absolute obedience to destruction and conquest are no different from the legion in Darkseid’s memory!
Although this is merely a projected creation from memory, they can still form for him a massive legion unafraid of death, becoming the foundation for his return to the path of conquest!
“What I lack least is time.”
Darkseid gazes at this territory he personally “recalled,” his scarlet eyes showing no joy, only the usual coldness and absolute desire for control.
“Source Wall…”
He murmurs lowly, his voice echoing in this void isolated by his power, carrying an unquestionable certainty, “…ultimately cannot escape my conquest.”
Evidently, the resurrected Darkseid has not only gained new power but also learned some information he absolutely should not know at this stage.
And that ultimate barrier imprisoning countless ancient evil gods and dividing the known and unknown universe now seems no longer an insurmountable chasm in his eyes.
At this moment.
Suddenly.
“Your efficiency is higher than I imagined.” A calm, ethereal voice, as if transcending gender and emotion, abruptly rings out in this void enveloped by Darkseid’s power. This voice does not propagate through medium but directly acts on the level of consciousness for communication.
Darkseid does not turn his head; no surprise shows on his rock-like face, as if he has long known of the other’s existence. He merely responds in his low voice.
“Our agreement does not include restricting my range of activity.” Darkseid seems to know who the owner of the voice is, without any doubt.
“Of course.”
That ethereal voice rings out again, carrying an indifferent detachment, “As long as you do what you are supposed to do, I won’t care about any of your other… playing house attempts.”
This response leaves Darkseid noncommittal.
“I am already taking action.”
Darkseid says, his scarlet eyes still fixed on the Apokolips projection continuously spewing Parademons ahead, “A seed has been planted. Just waiting for the right moment…”
His words pause slightly.
He does not finish the sentence.
His massive head turns slowly for the first time toward the direction of the voice. His scarlet gaze, like two swords condensed from the rules of destruction, pierces toward that profound darkness.
“However, I am curious.”
Darkseid changes the subject, with a hint of probing, “My trip to Earth this time, though brief, collected some… interesting information.”
He deliberately slows his speech, each word carrying a thousand pounds of weight: “I discovered… you and that boy—Ian Kent—seem to have… a rather good relationship?”
This is not a question, but a statement carrying some confirmation.
“Yet you… resurrected me, their enemy, who even nearly destroyed Earth.” Darkseid raises his doubt, which is also the confusion lingering in his heart about this “partner’s” motives. This existence’s behavior is full of contradictions.
“Heh, so suspicious.” Facing Darkseid’s sharp gaze filled with scrutiny and probing, the darkness in the void parts slowly like curtains to both sides.
A figure steps out step by step from the absolute void.
Her figure is tall and elegant, wearing a long dress seemingly woven from the eternal night sky, its hem flowing with stardust and the faint light of endings.
The woman full of mature style is eating ice cream, but her face is breathtakingly beautiful, carrying an absolute calm and void beyond life’s comprehension. Her eyes are two shrunken countless times over universe remnants slowly heading toward heat death, reflecting the scenes of all things’ end.
Her attire holds no symbolic items, but her existence itself is the embodiment of all “end” concepts in the universe.
This person is no other.
It is one of the members of the Infinity Family, wielding the authority over the endpoints of all life in the universe—Death!
Miss Death stands quietly there, as if she belongs anywhere, including this void forcibly defined by Darkseid.
She calmly meets Darkseid’s scarlet gaze burning with the desire for destruction.
For Darkseid’s sharp question piercing straight to the core, her stunning face shows no emotional fluctuation, merely opening her ethereal voice, transcending all sounds in the world, to speak clearly.
“I am only doing what I am supposed to do.”
Her answer is almost identical to what Darkseid said to her earlier.
Darkseid’s rock-like brows furrow imperceptibly. This answer is too vague, too… characteristic of “Death” itself.
Forever shrouded in an impenetrable fog.
“What I am supposed to do?” Darkseid repeats, light flickering in his scarlet eyes, “Resurrecting me, disrupting the established fate, is that also part of what you ‘should’ do? As far as I know, the Infinity Family, especially you, has always tended to… maintain a certain balance rather than actively stirring up waves.”
Miss Death’s eyes of cosmic silence seem to shift slightly, her gaze as if piercing through Darkseid to see some even more distant, more essential “thread.”
“The cycle of birth and death, the alternation of existence and void, is inherently a dynamic process. Sometimes, to maintain ‘balance’ on a larger scale, or to propel some… necessary ‘cycle,’ some local ‘imbalances’ and ‘variables’ must be set.”
Her gaze refocuses on Darkseid, containing no emotion, only absolute calm in viewing an “inevitable process.”
“Your existence, your ambition, your power… and your ‘failure’ and ‘rebirth’ are all part of this grand cycle.”
Death says slowly.
“Resurrecting you is not out of like or dislike for ‘Clark Kent’ or ‘Ian Kent,’ but because… you need to exist. At least in the current stage, you need to play your role well and complete your ‘part.'” Her words are like expounding a script already written.
And she is merely the stage director ensuring the actors are in place and the process advances.
“As for my relationship with that child…” Miss Death’s tone remains flat, but Darkseid keenly catches that when she mentions “that child,” the “end” aura in the surrounding void has a subtle, indescribable fluctuation.
“That has nothing to do with you, Darkseid.” Death’s voice returns to absolute calm and coldness, “You just need to remember our promise. After doing what you are supposed to do, you can pursue your dark campaign as you please, challenge the Source Wall, and realize your so-called ‘grand ambition.'”
“However, if you overstep or fail to fulfill the promise…” Miss Death does not continue, but the absolute silent aura around her, as if able to hasten the universe’s heat death, speaks volumes.
It has already said everything.
Darkseid falls silent. His scarlet eyes stare fixedly at Miss Death’s calm, unruffled face, trying to read more information from those eyes.
But ultimately, he gains nothing. This existence representing one of the universe’s ultimate rules has thought processes and motives far beyond his full comprehension. He only knows he has been given an unprecedented opportunity, a chance to make a comeback granted by “Death” itself. And he seems to be drawn into a game far more complex than conquering the material universe, involving higher-level rules…
And that Earth boy named Ian Kent seems to occupy a quite special position in this chess game, one possibly not even noticed by the other party themselves.
“What if I don’t complete the task you assigned me?” Darkseid probes, as he is an existence accustomed to walking on steel wires.
The Infinity Family alone.
For Darkseid, it is not an insurmountable peak. Miss Death is well aware of this; the Infinity Family’s fearsome reputation may be terrifying in the universe.
However.
In the face of this high-dimensional life’s projection, even the Infinity Family is a rule that can be challenged. However, Miss Death does not intend to use threats to control Darkseid.
“Then I can only wish you good luck… Believe me, the things that will come for you will be far more terrifying than us, far more than the most horrible catastrophe you can imagine.”
Miss Death states a fact.
She knows the other can also read that she is speaking the truth.
Without any exaggeration.
And it is indeed the case; Darkseid falls into deeper silence, a trace of confusion and solemnity flashing in his eyes, as if pondering what exactly makes even the Infinity Family so wary and fearful.
After a long time.
“I understand.” Darkseid’s low voice rings out again, breaking the silence. He asks no more, suppressing all doubts and schemes deep in his heart.
“Ian Kent will meet his fated death; this is also what I want for revenge.” After speaking, he turns his gaze back to the Apokolips projection he recreated.
And the Parademons army continuously surging out.
Darkseid is also speaking the truth.
After all, no matter what secrets and games lurk behind, power is the eternal truth. He needs to recover faster and return stronger.
The dark campaign never stops.
And the one who once frustrated him and killed him once, he certainly will not allow to continue living; that is not only a provocation to his majesty but also a thorn in his heart.
“It had better be so.”
Miss Death’s figure, in the instant Darkseid turns his gaze back, dissolves like an ink drop into the background, silently vanishing into the void.
As if she had never appeared.
In place, only Darkseid remains, with his dark legion roaring in the void, brewing a terrifying storm at the edge of the universe that will sweep over everything.
