Chapter 239: Superman And Batman
A red figure, like a meteor tearing through the night sky, carrying endless speed and strength, wrapped in towering wrath, crashed onto the street not far in front of Constantine!
The concrete ground instantly cracked, forming a shallow pit like a spider web.
The smoke and dust slowly dispersed, revealing that towering figure like a mountain—red cape flapping loudly behind him, muscles bulging under the blue battle suit, and that face usually filled with hope and gentleness now covered in anger and ferocity like before a storm!
Superman—Superman Clark Kent had arrived, but just like every superhero who always arrives a step late and misses the best rescue timing when it involves their family.
Although Clark was much stronger than before, his action was still a step late, as if it were a rule inherently fixed on every superhero by the DC universe itself.
Not just the fastest Flash always a step behind; whenever it involves a family crisis, no superhero in the DC universe seems able to nip the crisis in the bud.
“Huff huff huff~”
In the air.
Came Clark’s heavy breathing due to intense emotional fluctuations. His eyes burning with blue light first swept over the empty street, then locked dead on the only “adult” at the scene and the last existence he sensed with the children—Constantine.
That gaze.
Cold as the eternal ice of the North Pole.
Containing wrath and questioning enough to freeze any mortal’s soul.
“…”
Constantine felt his throat go dry.
He knew the worst had happened. And the level of trouble probably far exceeded any magic event he’d experienced before.
“Don’t do this!”
Feeling Superman’s tangible oppressive force, Constantine’s survival instinct maxed out! He unhesitatingly raised both hands high, signaling surrender first.
His movements so fast they almost left afterimages, mouth rapidly defending, as if afraid that being even a second late would get him blasted to ash by Superman with not a speck left.
“Hey! Calm down! Kryptonian! Their disappearance has nothing to do with me! Really! I swear!” He tried to make his expression look sincere and innocent. “I originally saw something wrong with this thing and wanted to come save those three children! But… I didn’t make it! Just by a tiny bit!”
While speaking, he frantically signaled with his eyes at the nearby statue already revealing its ferocious face and aggressive posture, emphasizing the real threat. Constantine didn’t dare let his gaze leave the angel statue, knowing well that kind of creature picks on the softest target.
“Mm.”
Superman Clark didn’t refute Constantine’s defense.
His global-covering super vision and hearing had indeed caught the abnormal energy fluctuation here at the last moment, along with Constantine’s anxious warning. He knew his failure to arrive in time was the main reason for the children’s disappearance; Constantine’s appearance was just a variable that accelerated their peril.
At this moment, anxiety, anger, and lingering fear intertwined, making him inevitably slightly vent his anger on this unreliable guy reeking of smoke and magic—after all, if Constantine hadn’t suddenly spoken and drawn the children’s attention, they might not have shifted their gaze so easily.
He might have arrived before that eerie change happened!
Just a fraction of a second short; in that fraction of a second hesitation, he barely observed the statue’s movement before the children vanished from the spot.
“This statue…” Superman turned his cold gaze to the eerie “angel,” the wrath in his eyes turning into more solidified destructive will.
His eyes suddenly lit up with blinding red light, like two miniature suns, terrifying heat gathering and surging within, the surrounding air distorting from the high temperature!
Golden crow-like hue burning deep in his pupils—that was the sign of evolved heat vision about to release. He clearly planned to annihilate this monster that made his sons disappear in the most direct way!
“Wait! Don’t!” Constantine, seeing this, was scared out of his wits, no longer minding Superman’s wrath, immediately speaking out to stop him despite the suffocating pressure!
“You can’t kill it! At least not now!” Constantine’s voice sharp from urgency. “To save those children, this thing must stay alive!”
To prevent further escalation, Constantine had to grit his teeth and explain, even risking being accidentally injured by Superman in his rage.
“This thing… it’s special! It ‘sent away’ the children… not killed them! Its existence itself seems bound to the spacetime point where it ‘sends away’ its prey!”
“If you destroy it now, who knows which corner of time the children will be thrown to—they might even get lost directly in temporal turbulence!”
“That would really be the end!”
Though unclear if Superman’s heat vision could truly annihilate this high-dimensional lifeform called a Weeping Angel—lacking heartbeat, blood, or traditional vital signs, nearly immune to conventional physics and magic—he didn’t dare bet! After all, the one acting was the miracle-creator Superman.
If Superman really succeeded in rage, those three children would truly be as good as gone! The chain reactions that would cause, Constantine didn’t even dare think about.
He was one of the few with a mortal body who could touch the multiverse, having spirit-traveled many multiverses, so he knew well what fates Earth and even the universe met in those where Superman lost family; he didn’t want his universe’s Superman to face the same.
Constantine’s intuition and judgment told him fleeing to other multiverses wouldn’t solve it—this universe’s Superman was too strong and too uncanny.
To observe Superman’s expression changes while constantly guarding against the angel statue’s attack, Constantine cast magic to split open a third eye on his forehead to observe Superman.
His own eyes stayed fixed on the angel statue to avoid a direct face-jump assault. Superman didn’t punish Constantine’s observation.
“You know this creature well?” Hearing the children might not be truly gone, just “sent away,” the red light in Superman’s eyes capable of melting stars gradually receded and vanished.
He forcibly suppressed the impulse to destroy it immediately, asking in a low, urgent voice. Children alive meant rescuing them was now top priority.
Constantine inwardly sighed in relief but stayed vigilant, keeping his gaze on the angel statue while quickly explaining.
“This thing is called a Weeping Angel.” Constantine spoke rapidly, expounding ancient knowledge. “They are one of the earliest and most vicious killers in the universe!”
Clearly, Constantine couldn’t detect or sense that outer universe invading lifeform; in his cognition, Weeping Angels belonged to the DC universe.
“Their core trait is—quantum locking.” He pointed at the statue. “When you look directly at it, it’s locked into stone, unable to move. But once you look away, even just a blink, it moves at superluminal speed, instantly appearing before its locked target!”
“Speed so fast their movement trajectory can’t be measured.”
“They hunt by throwing you to some point in the past,” Constantine’s face grave, “then ‘feed’ on the ‘potential time energy’ you would have lived in your original timeline, essentially surviving by stealing your ‘life possibilities’!”
“Anyone touched by them is instantly hurled to the past, left to fend for themselves!”
“Because they need to extract and steal the time that should have been yours.”
“They usually don’t kill you outright but let you wander lonely in time or cause greater time paradox disasters by altering the past!”
“They are living stone statues, time’s predators.” Constantine truly knew Weeping Angels well, aware this was a form of high-dimensional life.
Superman, hearing this unheard-of eerie setting, frowned tightly: “How could something like this appear in the city? At an ordinary family’s doorstep?”
Clark’s voice carried suppressed wrath and confusion. He didn’t expect Constantine to answer; his gaze like a searchlight suddenly turned to that villa—the homeowner hiding inside, heartbeat racing with fear, as he sensed!
“No!”
Inside the villa, the female homeowner hiding behind thick curtains, still peeking outside, was scared soulless the moment she saw Superman descend.
She just wanted to redirect the disaster.
How did she provoke Superman?
When she saw Superman’s cold gaze pierce the walls, locking precisely on her, she shrieked hysterically like a cat with its tail stepped on.
Then, the woman turned to flee through the back door!
But her foot had just stepped out, not even seeing the back door handle clearly, when an irresistible oppressive sense came from behind!
She stiffly, slowly turned her head.
There stood the figure in blue bodysuit and red cape, somehow silently appearing behind her like a ghost.
Close at hand!
Those blue eyes held no warmth, only suffocating majesty.
“Ah—!” The female homeowner screamed, legs giving out, collapsing to the floor, scrambling backward on hands and feet until her back hit the cold wall.
Nowhere left to retreat.
“Don’t… don’t come closer! Has nothing to do with me! Nothing!” Her voice shrill with sobs, she frantically quibbled incoherently, trying to dissociate herself.
“Don’t come at me! Setting facts aside, don’t you superheroes have any responsibility? Why didn’t you prevent this monster from appearing in the city?!”
“Why didn’t you show up to save me when I dug it out? So, it’s all your fault this happened.”
“I’m just a girl; what’s wrong with wanting to save myself? And I’ve got my Doctorate; I have more social value than most!”
She tried to muddle with sophistry and deflection, even slipping in “feminism” rhetoric, using gender and victim status as shields.
“Heh.”
Superman watched her, facial muscles suppressing anger from his redneck genes.
It was these ghouls and monsters making America and the whole world chaotic; he stepped forward, his huge shadow completely enveloping the female homeowner.
The female homeowner trembled at his approach, a wet heat from her crotch—she was terrified. But still, she blustered shrilly with threats.
“What… what do you want?! I warn you! I’m recording! Touch me and I’ll sue you! Sue you for wanting to assault me!”
“I have 300k Twitter fans; I can ruin your reputation!”
“I have nothing to do with that statue! I know nothing! Deal with whoever; not me! Aren’t you Superman, symbol of justice? Can’t justice be reasonable? Can’t it respect ordinary people? Touch one hair on me, and tomorrow’s headline is ‘Superman’s Atrocity’ attempting to assault a woman!”
“The world will know you’re a lawless maniac!” She grew more agitated, as if she were the victim, as if shouting loud enough would clear her guilt.
This woman tried using public opinion and law as weapons to threaten; Superman watched her terrified yet blustering, using vile means to protect herself.
Finally.
Superman couldn’t hold back and laughed in anger.
That laugh was cold.
Devoid of warmth, like Siberian chill winds.
“Your despicable nature in shirking responsibility, I don’t care.” Superman’s voice terrifyingly calm, like stating an unrelated fact. “But you tell me—why put that harmful thing outside? And where did you get it?”
His question cut to the core, unavoidable.
The female homeowner swallowed, eyes flickering—she knew the inside story. But path dependency from too much feminism made her snap back.
“If… if I don’t say, then what?!” She raised her head, feigning toughness. “You’re Superman! A hero! You can’t touch an ordinary person like me! That’s your rule! Dare try touching me?! I have ways to make the public believe you tried to violate my body!”
She banked on Superman bound by morality and reputation.
Dared not use violence on her.
Trying to use it as an amulet.
At this, Superman’s smile grew colder; he nodded, as if agreeing.
“Mm, you’re right.”
Superman’s voice still calm. “My upbringing, my beliefs, mean even knowing you’re scum, I can’t use my power on you.”
Hearing this, the female homeowner sighed in relief.
Her face even showed post-relief glee and faint smugness. See, these so-called heroes are fools bound by rules!
She even prepared to push further, mock a bit to cement her “victory.”
But just as her lips curled to speak—Superman abruptly shifted tone, with icy resolve.
“However…”
“For irredeemable scum like you… there’s another suitable role. Right now, I fully agree superheroes need multiplicity.”
With that, Superman didn’t glance at her again, turning steadily and walking out, as if no longer needed here.
“Talking nonsense? Dead son’s brains scrambled?” The female homeowner stunned by the sudden shift, utterly confused.
She muttered inwardly, watching Superman’s retreating back, thinking he cherished his image, chickened out, couldn’t touch her, just tough words before slinking away.
Baseless courage surged; she yelled at his back, wanting to hurl more barbs to save face from her earlier fright.
“Hmph! Acting tough! Still didn’t dare do anything to me! Let me tell you, this isn’t over! Tomorrow I’ll go…” Her words unfinished.
Boom!!!
A massive crash from above! The villa’s sturdy roof shattered like hit by a shell! Wood shavings, plaster, dust poured down like rain!
A pitch-black figure blending into shadows, amid shattered debris, descended with thunderous force!
“Who! Who wrecked my house!”
“Superman! Superman!” In the female homeowner’s terrified, uncomprehending gaze, a boot covered in hard armor rapidly enlarged in her pupils.
“Bang!”
A dull thud!
That boot precisely and viciously stomped the female homeowner’s head! Pressing her just-risen, lifted head brutally back to the floor.
Dust slowly settled.
Revealing the intruder’s devilish pointed-ear helmet outline, and in the moonlight through the broken roof, the especially cold and murderous—Bat emblem! In pitch-black armor, cape spread like bat wings, right foot pinning the woman’s head to the ground.
“Urgh—!”
She let out a short scream, face to the floor, unable to utter another word.
Batman coldly overlooked her, voice low like hell’s echo,
“You’re right, Superman can’t touch you.”
He slowly crouched, eyes under the mask cold as icy stars.
“But I can.”
Batman’s eyes carried absolute coldness.
“Qing Dynasty had 78 tortures, ancient Rome 32—skinning, lingchi, iron maiden, rack, breaking wheel… We can pick one to start.”
Night wind howled.
In this villa.
Justice descended in another form.
