What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 431

Wonder Woman opened her eyes and found her armor completely undamaged. "Are we alright?"

On Earth, people are equally perplexed. Couples on the street stop arguing and look up at the sky; patients in hospitals feel their pain lessen; even the thugs in Gotham's Crime Alley put down their guns.

I inexplicably helped the old lady pick up her dropped shopping bag.

Only Batman's surveillance footage revealed the shocking truth—the instant the white light touched the atmosphere, a transparent film quietly appeared.

It filters out all harmful radiation, leaving only the energy that symbolizes beauty and hope.

"Who made the move?"

Bruce pushed his wheelchair out of the Batcave and onto the streets of Gotham. The last rays of light illuminated his pale face, and his old wounds, which had not healed for years, suddenly stopped hurting.

In the sky, that mysterious thin film is dissipating, quietly disappearing as if it had completed its mission.

"who is it?"

Batman's voice was filled with shock.

"Who could do such a thing?"

He felt both relieved to have survived the ordeal and worried about his recurring paranoia. Of course, there was no answer to this question; only a small, pale hand slowly lowered itself in the alleyway, unknown to anyone.

"How am I doing?"

The boy, who looked to be about ten years old, turned around, his red cloak fluttering behind him.

“Very good, it seems you have absorbed the power of the ghost quite well, but…” The man in black robes was about to speak when a whooshing sound suddenly came from behind him.

"I heard it! I saw it!"

Amidst exaggerated gasps of surprise, a bald black man flew straight at them. The man in black robes only had time to shout, "Who are you!" before he was smashed to the ground by the clown wielding the archangel Amanadir as a human cannonball.

"Don't be afraid~"

While smashing the black-robed man with the angel's head, the clown comforted the boy, "This is my mount, occasionally serving as a murder weapon—trust me, you'll never find a more righteous murder weapon!"

He patted the bloodied and mangled "weapon" affectionately.

The boy tilted his head, looking at the scene of blood splattering everywhere, and even showed a curious expression.

"Why did you kill someone?"

He asked in a calm tone.

"Because—this is the best way to change your guardian! It avoids a lot of secular procedures. Yes, kid, don't look at me like that. You have no choice. I hereby announce that you have a new guardian. From now on, you are my child. Hmm, that's right. A child I find will definitely belong to my flesh and blood. I actually know who you are, Clark Kent from another universe."

"You will feel the fatherly love that I squeezed out of others and gave to you, I promise."

The clown, panting heavily, placed the head of the "weapon" on the ground. He was covered in blood, while the black-robed man, whom he had brutally beaten with the angel, was no longer human.

The boy didn't even flinch. The smell of blood was as normal to him as air.

“There are many Clark Kents in the multiverse,” he said calmly. “I prefer to bring myself to this universe to test the two Supermen who call me Superman the Supreme.”

A dangerous smile curled at the corners of the boy's mouth.

"Isn't that cool?"

He seemed quite satisfied with such a cringeworthy name, which was understandable, given that he was only ten years old, even younger than Ian, and naturally at the most cringeworthy time of his life.

"I love your smugness!"

The clown clapped and laughed, "By the way, are you coming with me yourself, or should I 'help' you come with me?"

He was eager to try.

The boy who called himself Superman Supreme raised an eyebrow. If Ian were here, he might recognize his origins: Superman Supreme originated from Earth, a parallel universe that existed before the "Crisis on Infinite Earths." In this universe, Superman, Batman, and other superheroes are fictional characters from comic books.

He was the only real Kryptonian.

He is also the fastest-growing superhuman in the multiverse, gaining power sufficient to contend with the Anti-Monitor in a short period of time, and possessing what is said to be the most "overpowered" potential.

obviously.

The so-called Supreme Council wanted to use the body of this underage Supreme Superman to contain the power called "Ghost," which was the true supreme power.

"You want to take me away? To give me love? Forgive my bluntness, but you're asking for trouble." The boy looked at the corpse on the ground; it wasn't his guardian, but his keeper.

"I know far more than you, far more than Batman," the Joker said, magically producing a sack. "I will be the most powerful Joker, and all those Laughing Batmen will have to be pushed into the gutter."

The boy didn't resist the moment the sack was placed over him.

"Every clown is as confident as you."

His voice came out in a muffled tone.

"Oh? Is that so?" The clown hoisted the sack and dragged the angel he had been bewitching for days. "We'll see. I don't believe every clown has voluntarily contracted the Ian virus."

The streets of Gotham were miraculously deserted. Everyone felt they had done a good deed and something was amiss, so they all rushed towards Arkham to get some medicine. As the Joker hummed a song and walked past an office building, the night wind whipped up the bloodstains on his clothes, and a few dark red spots drifted toward the glass curtain wall bearing the word "Museum."

A few drops of scarlet blood slowly slid down the stained glass windows of the history museum. Moonlight filtered through the bloodstains, casting spiderweb-like shadows on the floor of the Egyptian exhibit.

The blood droplets that were drifting by were about to drip onto the windowsill.

Suddenly, it seemed to wriggle upwards against gravity, squeezing through the window frame gaps like a living thing. One drop, two drops, three drops. It kept "moving" in the blind spot of the surveillance camera.

"what happened?"

"Why, why is this happening?"

"It's the effect of that mysterious light in the sky just now!"

"Oh, God"

The white-haired professor trembled as he touched the scalding hot coffin lid.

"These Egyptian inscriptions are being reassembled!"

In the center of the exhibition area, a stone coffin, glowing as if illuminated by Superman's light, was humming. Archaeologists gathered around it, their instruments showing that the radiation levels inside the coffin had spiked to a critical point.

“Incredible…the previous light changed its molecular structure!” A white-haired professor trembled as he recorded.

"No, it's activated some kind of dormant energy!" the young assistant exclaimed. They didn't notice that the drop of blood from space had quietly landed on the marble floor and begun to wriggle.

No one noticed.

The blood droplets crawled along the stone coffin's relief carvings into the coffin, as if some unknown force was drawing them in—the blood droplets entered the coffin. In an instant, the coffin shattered!

Wood chips flew out like blades, and all the glass in the museum shattered instantly.

The shockwave knocked three scholars over, and debris rained down as if time had slowed down. From the smoke, a skeleton wrapped in a shroud slowly sat up.

Dark energy surged from its hollow eye sockets.

The skeleton's gaze swept over the terrified crowd. It raised a finger bone, and a drop of blood was meandering along its cervical spine—wherever it passed, the withered muscle fibers wriggled and regenerated like snakes.

Outside the museum's glass dome, Gotham's night sky was suddenly filled with lightning and thunder. As the smoke slowly dissipated, a mutilated figure emerged from a shattered coffin.

He slowly raised his hand, his fingers spread, as if to feel the long-lost air.

"I was trapped in a nightmare... for a very, very long time..." The voice of the mysterious being, whose flesh and blood were torn apart, was low and hoarse, carrying weariness and violence that spanned thousands of years.

“Now… I, Tes-Adam, have returned.” He looked down at his regenerated body—flesh and blood were growing and covering his skull at a visible speed, muscles bulging, brimming with explosive power. And the black clothes, as if an extension of his will, rose and fell slightly with his breath.

"Born to me by nightmares..."

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly looked up, and all the scholars in his sight, regardless of age, gender, or distance, froze in place.

Their eyes were instantly dyed the same color as the men's, turning them into puppets—the ancient king looked out the window, the changed world making him feel alienated.

but.

"I will dye it the color I want, assuring the nightmare..." Black Adam hovered in front of the glass window, gazing at the street outside and murmuring softly.

It's like having a conversation with something.

……

Earth's crisis has been resolved, but in space, two Supermen are still fighting fiercely, with Ian, who has just recovered, carrying the unconscious Injustice Superman.

He swallowed hard, watching the two figures gradually disappear into the distance. His father and his opponent were locked in a fierce battle, so Ian had no chance or right to intervene.

"This isn't a fight, it's like they're trying to obliterate the very foundations of the universe!" Ian watched the two figures gradually disappear into the distance, feeling as if two Supermen were locked in a fierce battle in the cosmos.

That's normal. After all, everyone is a superhuman with an ideal mind. If you round it off, it's equivalent to everyone being an ordinary superhuman. So it's reasonable that the battle is not only massive but also a little difficult to decide.

The starry sky is mourning.

The two glowing Supermen looked ready to fight to the very edge of the universe—of course, Ian was wrong; Darkseid, who was in his own lair contemplating the changes in the universe, could attest to that.

It's not about fighting to the very edge of the universe.

Because Darkseid looked up.

Then they saw two figures fighting on their territory.

this moment.

The bewildered cosmic overlord was really willing to open a betting pool across the entire universe to gamble on whether this was a deliberate act by the fighters.

Chapter 185 The Tragedy of Darkseid! The Divine Healer Reappears!

Deep in the universe.

The two golden figures were like intertwined comets, and each collision caused the surrounding space and time to tremble.

The stars dimmed. Their speed surpassed the limits of living beings, their power defied the laws of physics, and the aftershocks of the battle even caused nearby star systems to veer off course. Clark Kent—no, at this moment he seemed more like some kind of supernatural being, bathed in a dazzling golden light.

He was no longer the Kryptonian son in his red and blue uniform. His body was enveloped in pure golden light, his eyes like two burning stars, and wherever his heat gaze passed, even space itself was scorched with eternal scars. He was the embodiment of hope, the sun god walking the earth.

The intense gaze in his eyes seemed as if the sun were truly shining down upon him.

Both Supermen look like this.

Its power is far greater than the miniature suns in Ian's eyes. Of course, Ian doesn't need to be discouraged, after all, he is just a little "Kryptonian" who hasn't come of age yet.

"It seems you still have some potential." Clark Kent, who was fighting fiercely with Ian's father, is Golden Superman, a powerful being from a distant parallel universe.

He possesses near-divine power, capable of reshaping reality and reversing time. His golden battle suit flows with the energy of the universe's origin, and his pupils reflect infinite possibilities.

In fact, Ian had already recognized this, but being as "weak" as Ian, he was unable to intervene. Golden Superman is the ultimate evolutionary form that Superman achieved after tens of thousands of years of cultivation in the core of the sun.

"Your mercy is too narrow, your capacity is insufficient to save all universes." The Golden Superman's voice resounded directly in Clark's mind, deep and majestic.

"how about you?"