The Batcave's supercomputer screen flashed a glaring red light.
Alarms blared continuously.
Resounding like a death knell between the steel walls.
"What's going on?"
Bruce rushed to the display screen, receiving the slightly delayed information—delayed due to the Angel's influence—that Metropolis sky was shrouded in a green energy storm.
The terrifying sight of Doomsday.
After many years.
Appeared before his eyes again. The energy spewing from Doomsday's eyes tore through the sky, the ground collapsed, buildings shattered, as if the entire city was being consumed by the wrath of some ancient deity.
Ordinary satellites had long since failed.
So, Bruce was currently using extraordinary technological satellites.
Perhaps in terms of invention and creation, Bruce was only at a normal, Earth-leading level, but he had once requisitioned some Apokolipsian technology from Cyborg under the guise of free Justice League health checks.
This was Bruce, the one who truly treated being rich as his superpower—he didn't just possess extraordinary talent himself, he also resorted to trickery and coercion, and he kept many brilliant scientists on his payroll.
With the body of a wealthy man, collecting resources across the entire Earth and crowdsourcing from his teammates, he could naturally rival the gods with ease. If Tony Stark possessed the spirit of a craftsman, then Bruce Wayne was absolutely a true strategist. He possessed a mind with a greater talent for resource integration than Tony Stark.
*Roar*
In the footage.
Doomsday was roaring.
Or perhaps, he was screaming in agony.
"Again?"
Bruce was merely startled.
He showed no signs of panic.
The strongest emotion in his heart was actually confusion—he had only been offline for a short while, so why had all his Justice League teammates become like headless chickens?
One by one, they floated mid-air, looking ready to be wiped out, while on the ground, only that strange thing from the Kent family was engaged in confusing behavior, clutching Doomsday.
That mouth.
Even through the screen.
Bruce felt like it was going to suck his face off.
Bruce found it difficult to comment on the situation, but Ian's presence did reassure him a little—if Ian truly was the existence worthy of God using the word [Transaction], then this boy must be hiding unimaginable secrets, and the cosmic favor he possessed would certainly not be low.
It was bound to far exceed himself, Superman, and even the entire Justice League.
"I see two Doomsdays, grinding on each other in Metropolis, exploiting a cosmic bug…" Bruce could remotely monitor and analyze the ongoing changes in Doomsday and Ian. Precisely because he fully understood the situation on the ground, Bruce quickly regained his composed and calm mindset.
This also allowed him to see the essence through the phenomena.
Both were unkillable specters, both could repeatedly gain unscientific power in battle, so how was Clark not raising a miniature Doomsday at home?
"The other two Kent kids are also unbelievably formidable. Clark might just be enthusiastic about this. It looks like I need to adjust my danger assessment for Superman higher."
"His mind might be normal, but his educational philosophy is clearly twisted," Bruce muttered under his breath. He turned and walked toward the armory, his black cape tracing a sharp arc behind him.
Support was definitely necessary.
After all, Batman wouldn't put his hope on a psychotic kid, even if he came from Heaven.
He turned and headed to the armory, his steps firm, as usual.
The locking mechanism of the Anti-Superman Suit disengaged. It waited silently for its owner to truly beat up Superman with it once. The jet-black metal exterior shimmered with a faint blue sheen in the cold light.
The internal system had completed its final diagnostics.
"The nanotech strength is still insufficient. I need to find a way to get that kid to show off his technology and brag about it to me." Bruce didn't forget to calculate, even at a moment like this.
He didn't hesitate.
He initiated the suit-up sequence. The Anti-Superman Suit automatically encased his body, the joints emitting a slight compression sound. Every armor plate fitted snugly against his muscle contours.
Bruce's armor started operating.
However.
The power increase and boost it provided, along with the targeted designs on it, while pretty good, were not good enough.
It ultimately wasn't the perfect concept in Bruce's mind.
It was like a tolerated consort he had to settle for using.
"I will complete you."
Bruce had his own 'goddess' in mind. His gaze fell upon an unfinished product in the corner—though called unfinished, it was essentially just a hanger and some raw materials.
The only complete thing was probably the design blueprint.
"Superman isn't strong enough yet, and I'm not rich enough yet…" There was a reason Bruce was using Ian's money-making plan. Gotham could not support his doomsday contingency plan.
Money truly could be considered a superpower.
At least it was for Bruce.
In the DC Universe, Batman's funds could absolutely be converted into real combat power. Because of this, the ultimate battlesuit he conceived would cost sixty percent of the total military expenditure of all nations globally. That would give Bruce true, powerful combat capabilities, enough to handle all crises, at least all past crises.
Enough to deal with Doomsday.
Enough to contend with the entire Justice League. Of course, forging this suit would also require the assistance of the entire Justice League, but for Bruce, this wasn't a big issue.
After all.
Bruce knew very well that he didn't even need to trick his teammates, he only needed to say, "We need to do this," and the other members of the Justice League would provide their assistance.
Even if the members knew the suit might be used against themselves—this was the true bond among the Justice League members, a bond more noble than the 'bonds' Ian often shouted about. This was the most peculiar relationship of trust in the DC Universe, it wasn't because Bruce was trustworthy, but because he was Batman.
As long as he had enough money, Bruce believed he could achieve his goal. The only problem was that his teammates' speed of improvement hadn't kept up with his ideas and blueprints.
Especially Superman.
The suit needed to be forged inside a star like the Sun.
Clearly, Clark didn't have that ability. Of course, analyzing the current situation, Bruce knew he might soon wait for Clark to gain that power, but he didn't actually think this was a good thing. Superman's unconventional speed of improvement surely had a more concerning reason behind it.
Yes.
There must be a reason.
While the reason was still unknown, it didn't stop Batman from starting to worry.
"Perhaps the answer lies with the three Supermen who have appeared in Metropolis right now…" Bruce's equipment could clearly distinguish between clones and counterparts.
He continued to retrieve his gear while his mind raced with calculations. Multi-tasking was basic for Batman, he swiftly loaded a pile of equipment into the Batmobile.
Kryptonite Spear, Anti-Speed Force Field Generator, Amazonian Binding Ropes… these were also things he couldn't forget to bring. Bruce had suffered enough from his teammates being mind-controlled.
His persecutory delusion was worsening, likely stemming from his past experiences. After a moment of thought, he loaded backup plans onto several stealth drones and an underground drilling machine.
Of course.
There were also several sets of backup gear prepared and synchronized in a few locations that even he didn't know the exact whereabouts of, and which he couldn't tell anyone. This wave was Bruce guarding against even himself.
He understood very well.
Even if only he knew some things, it didn't mean others couldn't peek. The best way was for even he himself not to know, so he could produce unexpected backup plans at any time.
With everything taken care of.
Bruce was finally ready to leave.
He was actually very quick.
The prep time was kept within a few minutes. During this time, Bruce had been using the satellite to monitor the figure rolling around and grappling with Doomsday.
His expression grew calmer.
After all, Superman clearly wasn't rushing, so what right did Bruce have to rush? The situation was still contained in the outskirts, and there were no employees at Luthor's factory.
Having fought Doomsday once in the past, Bruce was like this, he wasn't overly terrified of the creature. He knew how to deal with such a being.
He looked around.
Bruce even had time to load a machine onto the car. He had lied to the Flash that he was coming back to build a dream-intrusion machine, but he had actually built the machine long ago.
He built it years ago.
Don't ask why he built it.
The answer is, just in case.
Now.
The time had come to use it. Bruce once again proved that he was merely preemptive, not psychotic. He drove the Batmobile directly out of the underground.
He didn't use the side door.
He used the main entrance.
Because a visitor was pacing back and forth right outside the gates of Wayne Manor—a red and blue suit, a cape fluttering in the wind, and a face filled with helplessness.
It was Superman, Clark.
"What's the meaning of covering the Batcave entrance with Kryptonite?" Clark felt that Bruce's actions were clearly a retaliation for his previous illegal intrusion.
Facts proved that Clark was not mistaken.
"It means exactly what you think it means."
Batman didn't stop, only rolling down his window, lest Superman couldn't hear his voice—this particular Batmobile had undergone truly special soundproofing.
Which was different from the cheap soundproofing pads Jordan bought.
Bruce only used high-end goods.
The kind that was highly targeted, too.
"…"
Superman flew alongside the Batmobile, turning his head to stare at Bruce inside the vehicle. "I know you have a lot of Kryptonite, but isn't this a bit too much?"
Clark felt he had underestimated Bruce.
Heaven knows what he encountered at the main entrance when he tried to break in just now.
"That's all of it."
Bruce said without batting an eyelid, fully demonstrating the demeanor of a qualified capitalist. Naturally, Superman, Clark, wouldn't believe a single punctuation mark of his words.
"I think you already know the situation. I'll wait for you in Metropolis… right, the situation with that Doomsday is the complete opposite of mine. I assume you have a strategy to deal with that too?"
Superman prepared to leave.
He still didn't feel at ease and reminded Bruce one last time.
This was clearly redundant.
Because Batman didn't even move his mouth, the Batmobile's speed remained constant, clearly indicating that he had already prepared what he needed for such a scenario in the car.
The Gotham Elderly Master was not an ordinary psychotic, after all.
"Your youngest son can only stall that monster. He's like an unkillable mosquito—he causes damage, but the damage isn't high, and he can't defeat a monster so much stronger than him."
"You should go help him."
Bruce used a very fitting analogy and started urging him away. He saw that many of Gotham's nightlife "citizens," upon spotting Superman, immediately abandoned their daily routines.
They dropped their knives, guns, cannons, and even tanks, running away quickly. This made him, the local superhero, feel slightly annoyed.
Although these people would run when they saw him, too, today no one even dared to shout at him, nor did anyone ask if Joker was babysitting at home recently.
This was clearly the deterrent force brought by Superman.
While Bruce gained some peace and quiet, he still felt a tiny bit offended. Seeing the helpless Superman fly away, Bruce turned back and memorized those few "ordinary citizens" who ran off.
"I'll have a good talk with those guys tomorrow." The Batmobile sped through the border between Gotham and Metropolis. The engine's roar tore through the silence of the night.
Bruce Wayne's eyes were fixed ahead. The green storm in the Metropolis sky gradually grew larger in his vision. There was also the sound of a helicopter trying to scout, then crashing.
Superman timely rescued the man inside but failed to save the Black Hawk helicopter from yet another crash. Just as Bruce braced himself and began calibrating his weapons.
Suddenly, the air violently twisted. A blurry, yet incredibly fast figure shot out of the void, carrying the terrifying speed characteristic of the Speed Force, and slammed into the Batmobile!
"BOOM!!!"
A crimson lightning bolt struck from the side. The collision of steel on steel virtually drowned out all other noise. The Batmobile instantly lost control, flipping and crashing into an abandoned building.
Rebar and concrete collapsed under the impact, and dust rose everywhere. Glass shattered, the building fell, but fortunately, the Batmobile was solidly built and didn't sustain much damage.
Only the point of impact showed a dent.
Before the smoke and dust cleared.
The suddenly appearing figure already stood in front of the collapsed building. This figure was clad in a red metallic suit, entirely covered. Only a pair of eyes burning with the Speed Force were visible beneath the mask.
He stood quietly before the ruins, as if waiting for something.
"Damn it!"
Inside the Batmobile.
Bruce had already tensed all his muscles an instant before the impact. The vehicle's safety system quickly activated, nano-level cushioning material slowed the momentum of his already suited body.
However.
Even with double protection, the immense impact force still made his vision go black. It was easy to imagine why his vehicle was able to demolish an entire building in that split second.
"A Flash from a parallel universe? Or some other random speedster?" He kicked open the deformed door and rolled out, his tactical goggles rapidly scanning the surroundings.
There were footsteps approaching through the building's rubble.
"Zzzzt—Zzzzt—"
Crimson electric arcs flickered in the dust, and a figure slowly emerged.
"Bruce Wayne." The attacker was completely covered in a dark red battlesuit. The Speed Force energy wrapped around him like fire, and the eyes beneath the mask glowed with cold, white light.
The most concerning thing for Bruce was the huge bat symbol on the figure's chest, perfectly matching the symbol he usually carved into his own gear.
"Do not attempt to enter a story that doesn't belong to you."
A low, hoarse voice, as if from the depths of hell.
"Who are you? Why did you attack me?" Batman didn't answer but asked what seemed like a straightforward question. His right hand had already subtly slid toward his utility belt.
"You want to know who I am?"
"I am the last flash of crimson that sinners see before they die. I am… the Red Death!" The man in the steel battlesuit's voice was also deep.
And carried a synthesized quality.
"I created this battlesuit. I created my own Speed Force. Because of this, I was also dragged down by the curse of the Speed Force, always a step too slow, even when saving myself."
"Such an idiot, who do you think… I am?"
The red figure mocked himself.
If Ian were here, the Wild Paladin would surely recognize this figure—The Red Death, a genius just like him, who could plagiarize his creativity across dimensions in a parallel universe.
"You don't seem to want to kill me." Batman was stalling for time. He figured that unless Superman was extremely vengeful, he should have heard the commotion here by now.
Thinking this.
His thoughts seemed to have been completely seen through by the opponent.
*Click*
The Red Death disassembled something from his body and held up a small, compact device.
He didn't need to explain, Batman understood what he meant. This thing was likely some form of black-tech device capable of shielding Superman's senses or scrutiny.
"So, shall we fight?"
Batman stared intently at the figure in front of him.
He adjusted his goggles.
"Fight."
The opponent's answer was concise.
"Then you may begin."
Batman spoke in a low voice.
Yet, the Red Death did not move.
"I'm waiting for you to press the third hidden compartment on your utility belt. It hides the neurotoxin aimed at speedsters. It can be used with your Stasis Field Bomb, can't it?"
The Red Death stared at Batman.
As if he had already seen through Batman's brain and thoughts.
Hearing this.
Batman's pupils contracted sharply.
Not because he was seen through.
But because he had realized a terrifying problem.
"Who the hell are you!"
Batman pulled out a Batarang and threw it. The strange fluctuation on it seemed capable of distorting space, and in the blink of an eye, it had reached the Red Death's face.
"I told you, I am… Death!" The Red Death raised his hand and pinched the Batarang. The Batarang exploded, but he phased right through the attached Stasis Field and charged directly toward Batman.
The Speed Force erupted.
His figure instantly blurred.
Like a red lightning bolt rushing forward.
*Clang!*
A micro Stasis Field Generator was activated. The space within a five-meter radius instantly froze. The Red Death's speed plummeted. Clearly, this field also affected him.
However.
His speed was still very high.
Facing the Red Death's attack with the red Batarang in hand, Batman dodged sideways, simultaneously throwing three exploding Batarangs to block the opponent's movement.
"Pointless."
The Red Death sneered.
His figure vanished an instant before being hit.
He had broken free of the field's influence again.
When he instantly reappeared, he was behind Bruce. The Batarang in his hand swept toward Bruce's back neck. The Batarang collided with the armor's protection, and a burst of sparks erupted in the air.
Seizing the opportunity.
Batman immediately countered with an elbow strike, and the high-voltage electricity on his armored gauntlet flared.
"Bang!"
The Red Death was knocked back several steps.
His battlesuit absorbed most of the damage.
"The suit is quite durable."
The Red Death was slightly surprised, shaking his wrist.
"You stole STAR Labs' technology."
Batman stabilized his posture.
"And you stole Luthor's steel technology."
The Red Death retorted.
Both simultaneously activated new systems.
Batman's goggles flashed blue—Anti-Speed Force Vision Mode. The Red Death's battlesuit displayed a bat symbol—it was actually Batman's Tactical Prediction AI!
Close-quarters combat erupted again. Batman's every move was predicted, but every prediction was broken by a new feint. As fists and feet connected, both their suits constantly displayed new functions.
The Red Death condensed a red electrical whip in his hand.
It was high-voltage electricity.
Not the Speed Force.
He lashed it fiercely toward Batman's chest.
However, Batman didn't dodge. Instead, he sharply spread his arms. A pair of custom metal vambraces instantly deployed, their surfaces coated with a high-density magnetic layer.
When the electrical whip struck, the energy was absorbed and converted, instantly triggering a counter-electric arc!
*Boom*
The Red Death was thrown back several steps.
His body was slightly paralyzed.
A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.
"Flashy showmanship."
The Red Death made his assessment.
---
"A concept from a comic book, quite useful, isn't it?" Batman responded calmly. With that, he leaped up fiercely, activating his jet propulsion, using the momentum to close the distance to the Red Death. In mid-air, he threw three Sonic Resonator Batarangs—each tuned to a different frequency, forming a cross-interference net.
They could disrupt human thought.
The same for speedsters.
The Red Death's movements clearly became sluggish.
However.
He didn't need to think right now because he had already calculated the trajectory. He rapidly shifted direction, easily dodging the first and second, but the third Batarang made his eyes narrow.
"Incorrect."
The Red Death said in a low voice.
He suddenly realized this wasn't the real attack.
The true killing move was a faint gravitational field hidden behind the third Batarang, which briefly pulled him to a stop for 0.3 seconds.
In those 0.3 seconds, Batman landed and quickly activated a specialized trap buried in the ground. The entire area was instantly filled with a Stasis Field, hindering the Red Death's movements again.
"You even laid out the terrain in advance?"
The Red Death narrowed his eyes.
"Of course."
Batman's tone was unchanged.
"Did you think I only rely on gear?"
His question made the Red Death silent for a moment.
"You know I can break through this field, right?" The Red Death wasn't panicked. His battlesuit was helping him break through, and during this time, he watched Batman return to the Batmobile.
"I know more than that. I also know that you know that I know this fact. So, the fact that you haven't moved yet proves you're also curious about what I intend to do next."
Batman pulled out a syringe.
The Red Death stared at the syringe, his eyes shifting slightly.
"Superman drug? You even have this?"
His tone was clearly surprised.
"Five minutes is all it takes."
Batman was injecting himself.
"The side effects must be considerable."
The Red Death made his judgment again.
And he was indeed correct.
Batman did not deny it.
"It seems my resolve to win is greater than yours." After saying this, Batman suddenly charged. His speed was like lightning. At this moment, the Red Death also broke free of the Stasis Field's restraint.
The Red Death met him head-on. The two clashed again, fists and feet flying. Every collision reduced the rubble in the ruins to dust. They were constantly probing, correcting, and counter-attacking, like two precise combat machines, every move a combination of technology and an ultimate test of the opponent's psychology and tactics.
"You are more troublesome than I imagined."
The Red Death's voice was as calm as ever.
Batman wasted no words. Two micro-missiles popped out from the back of his suit. They locked onto the target and fired instantly. Combined with a Stasis Field Bomb, he seemed to be deploying enough firepower to send the opponent to the grave.
Of course.
Just as Batman predicted, the Red Death wasn't so easily killed. His figure vanished again. The missiles hit empty air. The shockwave from the explosion tossed the surrounding ruins aside. The next second, Bruce's tactical goggles blared a warning—the instant he was attacked, another Red Death burst out from behind Bruce.
The Red Death who was locked onto was merely a time remnant.
"The old trick, never gets old."
The sneaking Red Death quickly dislodged the various gadgets from Batman's suit. He then raised his hand, timing the attack to Batman's reaction speed, and smashed it toward Batman's face.
"BANG—!"
Batman crossed his arms to block, but the immense impact force still sent him flying. He crashed through more than ten buildings before finally stopping. As buildings collapsed around him, Batman coughed up a mouthful of old blood.
He crashed through walls, finally tumbling and falling onto a basketball court—the Red Death was already waiting there. He raised his foot and stepped directly onto Batman's chest.
"It's over. You still have three unused weapon compartments, but they are meaningless. You are always one step more prepared than others, but this time, I prepared earlier than you." The Red Death's metallic boot heavily ground down on Batman's chest armor. Even the Anti-Superman suit showed signs of cracking now.
"I also took the Superman drug, and I am less afraid of death than you." The Red Death's voice remained incredibly calm. He applied three more points of pressure with his boot, and Batman's respirator sounded an alarm.
"Because you're about to die anyway?"
Bruce saw the Speed Force arcs seeping through the seams of the opponent's battlesuit—they weren't ordinary lightning but dark-red energy tinged with blood, the color of a wound scabbing over.
"It's like this when fighting incursions from other universes. You get hit if you're not careful." The Red Death didn't hide it either. He was still stepping on Batman's chest and disarming Batman's hidden utility belt.
The sheer weight of this Red Death made Bruce feel a bout of suffocation. Though his armor could withstand massive impact, it seemed powerless against this Speed Force electrotherapy service right now.
He should have worn two, no, three layers of armor.
Bruce was full of regret.
Angry at his lack of caution.
He tried to struggle.
But the drug the opponent took was clearly much stronger than his.
It was utterly difficult to resist.
"It's truly a pity. You are clearly less powerful than me, yet I lack your luck… people like us, if we become arrogant once, we will inevitably become arrogant a second time."
The Red Death looked down and spoke to Batman. His voice was deep and clear, as if every word solidified into ice in the air. The voice beneath the mask carried electronic static, but it couldn't conceal the familiar tone.
Deep.
Hoarse.
It was the quintessential Gotham bubble voice.
"If I were lucky enough, you would be the one being stepped on right now." Batman tried to analyze the meaning in the opponent's words. And just then, the Red Death raised his arm.
"What are you trying to do?"
Batman's voice remained steady enough.
His fingers fumbled in the shadows at his side.
The Red Death didn't immediately answer. Instead, he slowly rotated his hand, as if contemplating and making a decision. The next moment, a curved blade radiating a bloody glow sprang from his wrist.
*Clang*
The red blade flowed with energy similar to the Speed Force, but it was stickier, like congealed blood, as if countless people had perished beneath this weapon.
"Your opponent isn't me, but I'm going to give you a gift…" He spoke, a complex light flickering in his eyes. The curved blade in his hand began to vibrate rapidly.
Batman's eyes flickered slightly.
He didn't beg but tried to extract information. A Reverse-Speed Force Bomb quietly appeared in his hand. After all, even he himself didn't know how many bombs he had.
This tactic proved to be quite effective. The Red Death seemed to have already noticed this action, but he didn't stop it. He only smiled faintly, looking deeply at the man beneath his foot.
"Batman always wins, right?" Before the words finished, the Red Death suddenly raised the curved blade in his hand. The blade traced a dark red trajectory in the moonlight.
He first lunged toward Batman, but this was clearly just a scare. After merely poking the hand holding the bomb, he simply flicked the Reverse-Speed Force Bomb away.
Immediately after.
Under the contracting gaze of Bruce's pupils, the Red Death raised the curved blade in his hand again. He fiercely slashed across his own neck, directly severing his own head.
"This is my gift to you, the loser."
In a state of overwhelming advantage.
The Red Death, who claimed his life was already short, actually chose to commit suicide!
Blood spurted out.
Splattering all over Batman's face.
Only when the blood spattered onto the Batman cowl did Bruce realize this wasn't the opponent's strategy. The dark red liquid snaked down his goggles. The red body violently collapsed onto the ground.
Batman's expression didn't change.
He only hesitated for a second, then quickly flipped up. As he ran toward the rolling head in the distance, he also casually slapped a small metal sphere onto his body.
Immediately after.
With the help of nanobots, the battlesuit began rapidly repairing the damage.
"The Red Death…"
Bruce stepped on the rolling head. He squatted down and carefully lifted the mask. Batman's eyes didn't flicker, but his expression clearly grew much graver.
"Sure enough, first there were three Supermen, and now, this is the second… Bruce Wayne." Batman's pupils reflected a face that didn't surprise him at all.
A face that was ninety-nine percent identical to his own appeared before him, with a hint of familiar coldness and madness between the brows. This face was almost his own.
Just much more weathered and much more ferocious.
"Batman always wins?" Batman didn't leave the corpse on the street. He collected the Red Death's body and even gathered all the blood that had spurted out.
As he returned to his Batmobile, which was still operational, Bruce repeatedly pondered this sentence in his mind. He could sense that this was crucial information revealed by his other self.
As for why suicide was a gift.
Batman didn't have time to think about it.
"Argh~!!"
He was already beginning to suffer the recoil from using the drug.
Not everyone could happily take drugs.
"Damn it!"
Batman fell into the cockpit, leaning heavily against the seat, his chest heaving violently. The effects of the Superman drug had completely faded, replaced by a tearing pain—as if every nerve was burning, every muscle was disintegrating. He clenched his jaw, cold sweat beading on his forehead, his fingers trembling as he fumbled through the storage compartment.
Finally, he grabbed the vial labeled [Restorative]. He opened it, chose the correct pill from hundreds of toxins, and inspected it with an instrument.
Only then did he use his pain-shaking hand to put it into his mouth.
And swallowed it into his stomach.
One minute later.
The pain slightly subsided.
The sequelae caused by gene collapse were temporarily suppressed.
Batman gasped for air.
He was just about to start the Batmobile when he suddenly felt something was wrong—his genes were repairing, far exceeding the effect of the restorative drug. The sequelae, which should have been permanently irreparable, were dissipating.
Not only that.
"I'm getting stronger…"
Batman quickly realized what he was experiencing. His cells were restructuring, his bones were strengthening, and his nervous system's reaction speed, which had already reached the human limit, was multiplying.
It was like the power of more than ten versions of himself was layered upon him right now.
"Is this why the Justice League from other parallel universes are invading ours?" Bruce wasn't happy, he was horrified. His heartbeat stabilized.
His consciousness gradually cleared.
His intelligence naturally reclaimed the high ground.
"Is that what the guy meant by the gift…" Batman fiercely looked at the corpse loaded into a transparent, sealed container behind him. He suddenly seemed to realize something and frantically patted himself down.
He did find something when he patted himself. A small device was added to one of the armor's drug compartments.
It was the shielding device.
Or perhaps it didn't just have a shielding effect.
A yellowed note was stuck to the device.
[This is my boon. Can the potential of thirteen of us defeat him?] The handwriting on the note was very familiar to Bruce. It was the handwriting he used when digitally backing up important matters.
Staring at the writing on the note.
Bruce frowned tightly, a wave of unease washing over him. He didn't know who the [him] the Red Death mentioned was, but he knew that although he was the one who survived this time.
In fact.
He might have lost completely. The other Bruce, clad in the speedster armor, had calculated everything. The current situation was precisely that Bruce's ultimate goal.
In the end.
It was ultimately the Batman who had prepared in advance who won the victory.
"Batman always wins?"
He could sense that this was a critical piece of information.
Behind this information.
Must lie the answer that would unveil the secret.
Just as Batman's mind raced.
"Beep, beep, beep~"
His in-car instrument sounded an alarm.
"Hmm?"
Batman quickly looked over. His brows immediately furrowed again.
"A second Arthur has appeared?"
He saw.
Under the satellite's capture.
A tidal wave was summoned from the river separating the two cities. It surged backward onto the shore, forming an anti-physical land tsunami. Standing at the crest was another Aquaman, Arthur, with blood-red eyes.
He was heading to—the Kent home!
...
The air was filled with dust and the smell of decay. The once warm home was now just a pile of ruins. Aquaman and Mera had clearly recovered well in the fish tank.
However.
They didn't look happy.
Both were sitting at the half-destroyed dining table.
There were no chairs.
Only a pile of concrete to sit on.
"Ian said that if you woke up, you should be fed some of this to help you recover energy. He's our gentlest little brother."
Jonathan Kent handed the two superheroes a platter he found in the rubble.
It was filled with fish food.
The super expensive kind.
Aquaman and Mera exchanged glances, their expressions wonderfully complicated, yet there was a sense of helplessness, as they didn't want to be impolite.
"This… is food?"
Mera asked cautiously.
She sounded somewhat uncertain.
"You'll get used to it. Clark is a liar too. He always said work and life should be kept separate. Now we know why." The Flash was now lively and bouncing. As he spoke, he looked over at the boy not far away, holding a chainsaw and staring intently at him, his gaze following him wherever he went.
"Ian said you guys usually love to eat this?" Jonathan, as the most normal child in the family, also had some doubts, but he quickly felt ashamed for doubting Ian.
"Just occasionally, as a snack. It's not bad." To show his easygoing nature, Arthur forced a smile, picked up a handful, put it in his mouth, and tried to look like he was enjoying it.
He was a grateful man.
He knew it was his nephew, whom he hadn't yet met, who saved him and his beautiful wife.
"It doesn't taste good."
Mera also tried some, but she was outspoken. Seeing Arthur desperately wink at her, she knew her husband sometimes had a people-pleasing personality.
"Forget it. I need to use the restroom. Is there a restroom still here?" Mera said softly, trying to escape eating the snacks, hoping her husband would have finished all the fish food by the time she returned.
"The restroom should still be in the back."
Jonathan got up to lead the way.
However, at that moment, a booming sound came from the distant street.
Everyone looked up, only to see a massive tidal wave surging from the end of the street, like a tsunami descending upon the human world. And upon the crest of the wave, a figure was riding the waves, holding a golden trident.
"What's going on?" Mera's eyes widened as she looked at that figure, then back at Arthur eating fish food beside her. For a moment, she couldn't tell which one was her husband.
"Die, you bitch!" The Alternate-World Aquaman roared, fiercely throwing his trident. It precisely pierced Mera's chest, pinning her to the wall of the ruins.
"Well, that's not my husband." Mera coughed up a mouthful of water-like blood. She struggled to raise her hand to try and control the water around the Alternate-World Aquaman, but found she couldn't wrest control.
"No!!! How dare you!" The Original-Universe Arthur roared, disregarding his shock over why there was another himself. He charged toward the enemy but was punched back and slammed against the wall, becoming embedded next to Mera in a case of spousal unity.
"Why are there bad guys again!"
Jordan roared and charged forward but was instantly swept up by the massive wave and slammed onto the ground. The Alternate-World Aquaman pressed down on Jordan's head. Jordan struggled, continuously letting out angry roars.
His scarlet eyes had lit up.
But.
Perhaps the rage wasn't enough.
So he couldn't break free and fly into the sky.
"Everyone dies!"
The Alternate-World Aquaman's eyes were filled with maniacal rage.
Just at this moment of imminent peril.
A black shadow flew out from inside the house.
The Alternate-World Aquaman was about to act when something struck his head. Though it didn't hurt much, he felt humiliated when he saw the statue of the Goddess Mazu rolling on the ground.
"You used the Eastern Sea Goddess Mazu to attack me, the Western Aquaman? Die, you idiotic ant!"
The Alternate-World Aquaman's eyes were filled with resentment.
He raised his hand to summon the trident.
The next moment, he prepared to shoot and kill Jonathan standing not far away.
However, just as the deadly golden light was about to be launched, and before he could strike, a sharp pain shot through his chest—a powerful hand had pierced his sternum.
He looked back in astonishment.
It was a figure descending from the sky.
And he was carrying someone in his hand.
"Why?"
The Alternate-World Aquaman looked at the figure in disbelief, coughing up large mouthfuls of blood mixed with seawater. His voice was filled with confusion and pain. The landing Superman offered no response. When he pulled his arm out, his movements were as precise as a surgeon's. His face was still perfectly sculpted, but all warmth was gone.
Then.
This Superman tossed the person in his hand toward Jonathan, his action as casual as throwing garbage.
"Dad?"
Jonathan and Jordan were both stunned.
"Your father wouldn't grab the back of my neck, then throw me onto the ground so crudely!"
Lois crawled up from the ground, quickly warning her sons—under the green moonlight, the silent Superman's aura was terrifying, and his entire being carried a chilling air.
This Superman.
Had an expression that was indifferent to everything.
That was definitely not their kind father.
"We are teammates… we are the strongest individuals who survived the current multiversal elimination mechanism time and time again. We are the true Supreme League that should unite!"
The fallen Alternate-World Aquaman was still in disbelief.
"Hmm."
Superman slowly landed in front of him, his boot stepping on Aquaman's golden long hair. There was not a single ripple in those eyes, only absolute coldness and composure.
*Squish*
Aquaman's head burst open like a watermelon.
He was stomped to death, his brain matter splattering out by this mysterious Superman.
"Now, you are a dead teammate." Superman slowly lifted his blood-stained boot. He was as cruel as a Homelander who had been Homelander for five hundred years in a world full of Homelander types.
In the air.
The atmosphere was extraordinarily heavy.
***
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