The contract was completed.
And then quickly severed.
If the world were a game, Odin would certainly win the title of the fastest turncoat, as he had clearly studied the utilization mechanism of the Ian-brand Evil God too thoroughly.
He successfully exploited a super-BUG.
The truth that Thor did not understand, Odin and Hela both seemed to grasp perfectly—Asgardians grow stronger with age, and what constrains them is never their lifespan but the divine power that accumulates within their bodies.
Now.
He betrayed the contract immediately after signing.
Odin directly sent away the excess divine power in his body. He looked much weaker, but in fact, he was now far more powerful than before.
His body couldn't handle the strain.
Even with too much divine power, if he didn't dare to use it, it was effectively useless. But now, his body, which had been overloaded for years, was perfectly capable of handling the remaining half of his divine power at 100%.
This fully functional half of his divine power was enough to make Odin the supreme sovereign of the Nine Realms again. Furthermore, a body that would not be overwhelmed by divine power meant he had indirectly gained a longer lifespan.
As for how much time he could extend, that depended on how thick Odin's skin was—if his divine power accumulated to an overload again in the future, he could simply become a double-crosser a few more times, send the power away, and do it again.
If Odin shed all sense of shame.
And kept oscillating back and forth.
Five hundred thousand years from now.
Many five hundred thousand years from now.
He might still get a chance to look upon this world again. As for Thor, he might also have the opportunity to break the record for the longest time spent as Crown Prince. Everyone, in a way, has a bright future.
"War... has come. We Asgardians will absolutely not allow those Frost Giants to poison the Nine Realms." Odin held Gungnir, his solitary eye burning like a torch, as he strode out of the Royal Hall.
He did not wear the Destroyer Armor. However, even in ordinary armor, he looked awe-inspiring, glittering in the sunlight, his cape flapping like a war banner. The figure once slightly stooped by age was gone, replaced by the majesty that had once commanded the reverence of the Nine Realms.
"Warriors of Asgard!"
Odin stood atop the Golden Palace, Gungnir pointed toward the sky, his solitary eye like a blazing star.
"I know what you fear. Do you fear the eternal winter of Jotunheim? Do you fear the ancient curse of the Giant King? No—what you truly fear is that your King has grown old."
Suddenly.
He plunged the tip of Gungnir into the ground.
Divine power burst forth like a tidal wave!
"Then look closely!" His solitary eye erupted with a light brighter than a star. His aging body was reshaped by the divine power, bringing back the battle-god appearance he had during the blood wars across the Nine Realms.
"Am I frail?"
Odin's voice was deafening.
He was giving a rousing speech to mobilize the army before the start of the war.
Morale needed to be boosted.
This was far more important to the war than anything else.
"The frost plague has corrupted the stars, and the giants' wild words have desecrated their ancestors' oaths! They think we are weak, they think we are afraid, they think our blood no longer boils!" His voice cracked like thunder. When the King stood on the high platform, the entire Asgardian army held its breath.
"Now is the time to make them pay the price."
"After today, Jotunheim will have no eternal throne!"
"The glaciers will remember my wrath!"
"The abyss will sing of your valor!"
"Now—everyone, follow me to win eternal victory! March out with honor, and return with the fear of your enemies!" The All-Father's voice simultaneously rang out across all the realms.
It was as if even the spirits of the underworld were trembling.
"The great All-Father! He is back! He is back!"
The old generals' eyes widened.
Odin's voice made them feel as if they were seeing the sharp edge of the King's youth.
The All-Father who had once led them to conquer the Nine Realms, who had struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, seemed to have returned at this moment—few had ever seen Odin like this.
That was not the benevolent ruler.
That was the conquering king who expanded his domain.
"Asgard never shrinks from a challenge!"
Gungnir slammed heavily onto the ground, and the divine power shockwave spread out. "Today, with blood and glory, we will make those arrogant fools understand the might of Asgard!"
"For Asgard!"
"For Odin!"
"Fight for the King! Fight for Asgard!" The warriors raised their weapons, their shouts shaking the heavens. War drums thundered, and horns blared. The entire Golden Palace trembled with the intensity of their battle will.
The army's morale was ignited.
The Asgardians would once again prove their invincibility.
The final preparations and rallying were underway.
"Tsk tsk."
Hela, the Goddess of Death, rode atop Fenris, a massive giant wolf.
This was a terrifying giant wolf, its fangs stark white, its breath exhaling a frigid mist, its scarlet eyes scanning the surroundings, causing the nearby warhorses to whinny uneasily.
She squinted at the bewildered Thor beside her, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "What's wrong? Does it seem our little prince raised in a honeypot can't handle the atmosphere of the battlefield?"
At this, Thor, the God of Thunder, who wasn't quite used to this environment, felt his pride wounded.
"I'm perfectly fine!"
He tried to appear calm.
But Hela's smirk grew more pronounced. "I can ask Odin to find you a small pony, if you find the pony too spirited."
Then.
Hela pointed with a hand.
"There are little goats in that pen over there."
The Goddess of Death offered her "caring" advice.
Her cold sarcasm made Thor flush beet red.
"I am Thor, the valiant God of Thunder!" Thor angrily brandished his hammer, bright electric arcs bursting from his body. "I'll show you that I deserve the Crown Prince position!"
"I am a warrior!"
Thor's expression was resolute.
But his words were gritted through his teeth.
"A warrior? A pot-bellied warrior?"
Hela shot back.
The tension between the two grew thicker.
The Asgardian warriors nearby exchanged glances.
Whispering.
However, no one dared to step forward to mediate.
"Who is she? How dare she speak to the Crown Prince that way?"
A young warrior asked his elder.
"Shh, don't ask. If you must know, I can only tell you that we might not only be facing external war."
Some older generals looked complicated—they vaguely remembered that, many, many years ago, Hela had been Odin's sharpest sword, the Goddess of Death whose name struck terror on the battlefield. But then she suddenly disappeared. Some said she committed a grave error and was exiled, others that she had gone on a secret mission to a faraway place.
In any case.
Hela was back now.
Hela's return was not just a family reunion, but a major upheaval in Asgard's power structure. No one knew what the King's true intentions were.
"Even with this gut, I can still hammer you!"
"Heh."
"Don't believe me? Get down here and fight, one-on-one. I won't let you sucker-punch me this time."
"Heh heh."
"Damn it! I don't have a sister like you!"
...
Just as the atmosphere was about to spiral out of control.
Sif, accompanied by a few of Thor's die-hard supporters, walked over.
"Thor, come with me." The warrior Sif rode a Pegasus and reached out to the God of Thunder. She was Sif, the Goddess of Land and Harvest in Norse mythology, and an outstanding figure in Asgard's younger generation.
Thor looked like he'd been given a reprieve and immediately jumped onto Sif's Pegasus, not forgetting to turn back and make a face at Hela. "See? Real warriors get invited by others!"
Hela completely ignored such childish behavior.
She rode her giant wolf toward the front line.
Seeing this.
Thor relaxed slightly.
"That's loyalty!"
Thor loudly praised her from the back.
"You truly are my great friend!"
He spoke to his childhood sweetheart with great commendation.
However.
Sif was expressionless.
"Actually, I'm your fiancée."
She spoke without any detectable change in emotion.
To this.
Thor, the God of Thunder, burst out laughing.
"You can't trust these feudal marriages!" Thor waved his hand carelessly. "After the war, I'll take you to Earth. I want to show you what free love is like!"
"Did you know? Over there, you only need a few gold coins to gain a loving relationship." Thor was happy to share his experiences on Earth with his friends.
However.
He had clearly underestimated Sif's comprehension.
A few pieces of paper could buy a loving relationship?
"You weren't in Midgard to be a chef, you were there to collect Midgardian venereal disease, weren't you?" Sif's face instantly turned as black as a pot's bottom. Without another word, she kicked Thor off the horse.
She rode away with palpable disgust, joining the others' formation, leaving Thor standing there. It took him a moment to realize what happened before he shouted after Sif's retreating figure.
"I was talking about online dating, you know what the internet is? No, you don't!" Thor couldn't catch up to his childhood friend, so he could only return to the stables, looking a bit sullen.
Soon.
He made his choice.
The other warriors were selecting their mounts.
Then they assembled.
War drums thundered across Asgard, and the Golden City shook with the sound of blaring horns. Warriors mounted their steeds, standing in formation, their armor reflecting a cold light. Spears rose like a forest, and their battle will seethed.
The army's momentum was mighty and quite pleasing to the eye. The sound of clashing steel and galloping horses shook the air, as if even the sky was trembling for the approaching war.
Thor stood at the front of the queue, his fingers tightly gripping the handle of Mjolnir, his knuckles white from the force. His palms were sweating profusely, leaving slick marks on the metal surface. He had to adjust his grip repeatedly, afraid that in the upcoming charge, this weapon, a symbol of his identity, would slip out of his hand.
"I absolutely cannot lose face..."
Experiencing war for the first time, Thor's gaze involuntarily fell upon Odin on the high platform—the All-Father was clad in golden armor, his solitary eye like a torch, and Gungnir, the Eternal Spear, pulsed with destructive light in his hand. His father's figure seemed to tower as high as the sky in Thor's eyes, and that majestic presence made his chest tighten.
"This is what a truly qualified All-Father looks like."
Thor looked down at his hammer, lightning flowing across its surface, yet it seemed so small. He recalled Hela's mocking eyes, and his father's composure when facing the God of Darkness.
He also recalled his own clumsy combat style.
"Do I really deserve the Crown Prince position?"
In truth.
Thor was deeply confused. This confusion made him extremely sensitive deep down, which was why he reacted with such bluster to Hela's mockery.
"Boom—!"
The war drums thundered again, interrupting his thoughts. Thor abruptly looked up and saw his father raising Gungnir high. Surging divine power swept across the entire army like a tidal wave.
"Someday, I will be that kind of being!" Thor, the God of Thunder, cheered up. His father's divine power had also swept over his shoulder, bringing him some confidence.
Just then.
A gentle silver light flowed from the depths of the Golden Palace.
It sprinkled over the warriors like moonlight.
"It's the All-Mother!"
Frigga walked slowly, her gown trailing, her staff glowing with starlight. Her face was serene, but her gaze was as deep as an abyss—as the Nine Realms' foremost sorceress.
Her power was far more terrifying than the world imagined.
"May the warriors of Asgard," her voice flowed like a clear spring, yet contained undeniable power, "know no pain on the battlefield, and fear no death."
She lightly tapped her staff, and silver runes drifted down like snowflakes, merging into every warrior's armor. Thor, too, felt a warm power surge into his body.
Even the hammer in his hand seemed to feel lighter.
"What is that child laughing at?"
Frigga only spared her son a single glance. She walked past the formation and finally stopped before Odin. Her eyes flickered slightly, and her fingertip condensed a rune even more complex than the others.
"All-Father."
She whispered.
She pressed the rune onto Odin's chest.
"May wisdom guide your path."
This was a separate blessing for Odin.
Odin nodded slightly, but Frigga did not immediately withdraw her hand. She, of course, knew what Odin had done, and so, the Sorceress was very worried about his decision.
"Some beings... do not take kindly to betrayal."
The Sorceress leaned closer, according to her understanding of the world, to quietly caution Odin.
To this.
A profound light flashed in Odin's solitary eye.
He grasped his wife's hand and gently patted it.
"Trust me, there will be no problem."
The King's voice was also kept very low.
"In fact... I am also increasing Asgard's bargaining chips." He looked at his daughter and son, his mind filled with an unknown scheme.
The All-Father was always so deep in thought.
Frigga gazed at her husband and finally just sighed, letting go of his hand.
Odin turned, Gungnir pointed toward the sky. "For Asgard!"
"FOR ASGARD!!"
Amidst the earth-shaking roar, Thor mounted his steed, blood boiling, and charged at the very front with his hammer raised high. Frigga stood still, watching her husband's retreating figure.
"What exactly is that mysterious Old God?"
Worry lingered in her eyes.
She mumbled to herself.
She watched the great army enter the Bifrost, and she watched Hela's giant wolf mount viciously kick Thor from behind. Everyone gradually vanished into the light of the Rainbow Bridge.
The Bifrost.
It was Asgard's teleportation artifact, capable of opening wormholes between all planets in the Nine Realms, allowing users to instantly transport to their destination. This was why Asgard's dominion was so vast.
In a flash.
The Bifrost's light cut through the starry sky, and the Asgardian army descended upon a border planet that had been attacked by Frost Giants.
The village was already a ruin.
The surviving villagers, huddled among the debris, fell to their knees and wept when they saw the divine soldiers descending from the sky.
"Asgard has come to save us!"
They had waited for hope.
"Asgard? Nothing but an empire whose sun is setting!" The Frost Giants stood like mountains, roaring and wielding great axes, trying to tear the Asgardian warriors to pieces.
Seeing this.
Hela acted without a second thought.
With a wave of her hands.
Countless dark green spikes erupted from the ground, instantly skewering a dozen Frost Giants. Her fighting style was sharp and ruthless, every move lethal. Enemies fell like stalks of wheat wherever she passed.
On the other side, Thor also rode his goat, intent on proving himself—but the little goat was ill-tempered, trying to buck the God of Thunder off while running.
Amidst his clumsy figure.
A miracle occurred.
The lightning Thor summoned was originally "Good Guy Lightning" and had terrible aim, but the bolts he summoned while wobbling were surprisingly accurate, hitting the target every time—lightning struck down one after another. Through a kind of two-negatives-make-a-positive effect, under the influence of the goat-mount, every single bolt, without missing, struck the enemy's heads!
"Crack! Crack!!"
The Frost Giants were struck by lightning one by one, screaming incessantly and instantly falling to the ground. Their massive bodies convulsed in the current, their fur scorched black, and the air was actually filled with an aroma like roast meat.
"Huh?!" Hela, who had been calmly slaughtering enemies, suddenly heard a series of explosions behind her. Looking back, she couldn't help but be astonished by Thor's performance.
At this moment.
Thor's body trembled.
As if he had reached enlightenment.
"I get it! I need to imagine these enemies as meat on a cutting board!" Thor, riding his little goat, had barely finished speaking when he threw his hammer again!
"This is a big meat patty!"
His thrown Mjolnir viciously hammered the Frost Giant.
He hammered them so hard, they were tenderized. You could probably use them to make very springy meatballs.
Boom!!
Another bolt of lightning struck a Frost Giant who was trying to get up, blasting it back to the ground, scorched and smoking, the aroma growing stronger.
"This is great!"
Thor burst into laughter, completely revitalized.
"I wasn't incompetent, I just wasn't in the zone!" He began to jump and swing his hammer, muttering, "This one is pork belly! That one is lamb chop!"
With his "cooking-style commands."
Lightning poured down like rain, every strike precise, as if guided by a soul. The battlefield had become a giant, open-air barbecue stall, and the Frost Giants the most tragic ingredients.
"Who still dares to say I'm no good?" Thor didn't have rosemary in his hand, but he had it in his heart. He wielded Mjolnir like a slaughter god, entering a truly uncontested state.
Seeing this.
Hela would certainly not concede.
She was harvesting lives on the battlefield.
And.
She put on a display of her talent.
"Art should be shocking."
Under her control, the Frost Giants' corpses were strung up one by one, hanging like sausages on sharp ice pillars. She tilted her head, admiring her masterpiece—the corpses were arranged in blush-inducing poses, some were even holding hands and dancing a naked waltz, a scene both absurd and bizarre.
"See, this angle... doesn't it have a great sense of dimension?"
She stepped back a few paces with satisfaction, admiring her work.
The Asgardian warriors looked on, their faces moving from shock to dullness, finally settling on an expression that was impossible to describe. No one dared to say it wasn't art, but no one possessed the appreciation to truly enjoy it either.
Just then, Odin returned with his Royal Guard after clearing a sector. From a distance, he saw the "art installation" up ahead, and his brow instantly furrowed into a frown.
"..."
The All-Father was silent for three seconds, then decisively turned his horse around.
"Warriors!"
His voice was stiff, and he covered his solitary eye.
"Follow me to strike directly at the heart of the Frost Giants' lair!"
The wise King made a wise decision.
Out of sight, out of mind.
As Odin once again activated the Bifrost's function, its beam pierced the eternally frozen sky of Jotunheim. Odin led his elite Royal Guard to descend upon this land of ice.
The cold wind howled.
The snow-covered palace was terrifyingly silent.
There wasn't even a single guard.
"Something's wrong."
Odin gripped Gungnir, his divine power spreading out in ripples to scout the area.
"It's too quiet."
They advanced deep into the Frost King's Hall. The corridors carved from ice reflected a cold light, and there were no footprints on the floor. They only stopped when they reached the valley with the gigantic throne. This was a place of true extreme cold. The sky was gloomy, and the ground was covered in eternal frost. Even the air seemed to be solidified.
"Laufey!" Odin's voice thundered, shaking the ice crystals loose. "You violated the peace treaty. Now face judgment! Accept your inevitable doom!"
Gungnir burst with dazzling golden light, illuminating the entire throne. However, sitting on the icy throne was not the expected burly and fierce King of the Frost Giants.
Instead, it was an unbelievably young and extremely slender Frost Giant.
His skin was pale, almost transparent. His icy blue eyes were indifferent, and his long, slender fingers tapped carelessly on the armrest of the throne. Most striking were the small horns on his head.
They looked less like a symbol of a Frost Giant and more like some sort of deliberate decoration.
"Laufey is dead." The young giant spoke, his voice soft, yet it made the temperature of the entire hall plummet. "Now, I am the King here."
He slowly rose, and ice crystals condensed around the throne into a crown of thorns.
"You may call me—"
"King Loki."
The words rang out.
The wind in the entire valley seemed to be frozen by an invisible force. Odin's divine light reflected on the young man's face, who was staring directly at Odin with a serene gaze.
The cold wind howled. Inside the frost-covered hall, the air seemed to solidify.
Odin stood below the raised dais, his golden armor gleaming with a cold light. His gaze, sharp as a blade, was locked onto the figure sitting on the throne—the young man who called himself "King Loki."
"Did you instigate this war?"
Odin's voice was low and authoritative.
"Of course." Loki slowly lifted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. He nodded, his movement as gentle as if answering an irrelevant question.
"Why?"
Odin questioned him with a deep frown.
"Too many thoughts, too much trouble..." King Loki's fingers lightly tapped the armrest, his eyes drifting as if staring into a distant void.
He propped his head up with one hand, his fingertips digging deep into his pale skin, mumbling, his voice as light as a dream. "Recently, my mind has been filled with so many images, fragmented scenes, as if someone is pouring them into me, pouring those thoughts and memories that aren't mine..."
Loki's voice grew sharper, and his eyes turned a murky crimson. "No one can save me, so I can only save myself." When he finished speaking, the entire hall seemed to shake.
Odin frowned slightly, looking at the young "King Loki." A strange feeling arose in his heart. This was not an ordinary enemy.
This was a being... being shaped by something.
The All-Father had taken notice.
"You are mad."
Odin was silent for a moment.
Finally, he spoke.
His tone held both pity and resolution.
"Perhaps."
Loki smiled, a grin showing an almost manic confidence.
"But only when this world is quiet enough can I find true peace. Only when everyone is dead can I find the power I'm supposed to possess in my dreams." He raised his head, his eyes flickering with a mix of scarlet and murkiness, as if burning with a fire that did not belong to mortals.
"Can't you hear their whispers? They keep saying... I am a god." This somewhat contradictory statement sounded like a madman. The All-Father did not hesitate to hurl Gungnir!
Gungnir sliced through the air, its shaft wrapped in brilliant golden divine power, accompanied by a thunderous roar. Carrying the divine power of inevitable impact, it stabbed directly at Loki's heart!
Ice crystals shattered and space warped in its path. The All-Father's Royal Guards held their breath, waiting for the spear to pierce the enemy's chest, for them to witness their King's victory once more.
However.
Just as Gungnir was about to hit its target, Loki moved. He didn't dodge or retreat. Instead, he raised his hand and gently clenched it.
From the void.
An eerie longsword gradually materialized.
He grasped it in his hand.
The blade was as black as night, with scarlet lines flowing over its surface, writhing as if they were alive. Wherever the edge passed, even light was swallowed, leaving behind only a heart-stopping darkness.
It was—All-Black the Necrosword!
A God-slaying blade!
A peerless divine weapon capable of slaying a Celestial!
"Clang—!!"
The massive sound of metal colliding echoed throughout the Royal Hall!
The tip of Gungnir met the Necrosword's blade. Two diametrically opposed forces clashed fiercely, the resulting energy wave surging out recklessly, as if it would sweep across the entire planet!
It was surging and terrifying!
The Royal Guards were knocked to the ground by the shockwave, watching the scene in horror—Loki stood steady, using the All-Black Necrosword to block Odin's fatal blow!
For the first time, shock surfaced in Odin's solitary eye.
He could not recognize the sword, but he could sense its immense power. Now, this unimaginable weapon had appeared in the hands of a young Frost King!
No wonder Laufey died!
"Where did you get that sword?"
Odin asked in a deep voice.
He reached out and recalled Gungnir.
Loki did not answer, merely stroking the blade with obsession, as if listening to its whispers. His eyes grew increasingly chaotic, and the smile on his lips twisted into something almost monstrous.
His eyes became even more scarlet.
"You should all kneel before me, the god who writes history!"
At this moment, the roaring Loki's voice suddenly became loud and manic. The scarlet patterns on the Necrosword pulsed like blood vessels. "I am King Loki! I am the God of Stories!"
He swung his sword and attacked Odin.
"Dreams are only dreams!"
Odin roared.
Gungnir burst with brilliant divine light.
And violently collided with the Necrosword!
The collision of these two supreme forces cracked the ice fields of Jotunheim, collapsing glaciers. The shockwave swept across the entire world. The home of the Frost Giants was on the verge of turning into dust.
Loki's black hair flew in the gale, the scarlet in his eyes deepening. "You don't understand! Those images—those memories—they are more real than reality!"
Odin's solitary eye was solemn, the tip of his spear held against the edge of the sword, constantly pouring in divine power. "Put down the sword, Loki! It has bewitched you!"
"Bewitched?"
Loki sneered. The All-Black Necrosword suddenly twisted and morphed, turning into a hideous venomous snake that coiled around Gungnir and struck straight at Odin's throat. "It showed me the truth!"
"And from your expression, I know... you saw it too! You saw those images! That reality!" Loki roared madly at Odin.
The Royal Guards could not intervene in such a battle. They could only watch the two figures crisscross the battlefield. Every collision created ripples of energy, as earth-shattering as a star exploding.
The battle line was about to spread and affect the entire star system.
No one could detect that, far, far away from reality, Knull, the God of Darkness, sat upon a throne of bone, his purple-fire burning eye sockets watching the scene below.
Odin and Loki's figures were reflected in his eyes.
"Soon, the time for my return is near." Knull, the God of Darkness, hovered quietly in the void, clad in shattered armor, invisible shackles wrapping around his body.
"I will be the first, and I will be the last." Knull glanced around him. His gaze penetrated the area that contained him, sweeping over one figure after another in the void.
This area.
Countless frames, similar to comic panels, floated.
In each frame.
A terrifying figure was sealed.
"Rewrite my story for me, God of Stories." Knull's laughter echoed in the void. He watched the dimension of reality, his scheme developing exactly as he had anticipated.
...
At the same time.
In the DC Universe.
In the newly renovated small wooden house.
Ian was lying face down on the floor, surrounded by pages of paper. In his hand, he held a pen with multiple colored tips, diligently drawing something on a sketch.
Aside from the simple wooden bed, his new room.
Had almost no furniture.
It looked empty and cold.
His mother and father had already gone to work overtime. His two older brothers were sound asleep, their snores rising and falling. After returning to his own universe, no one asked him about his sudden disappearance.
In fact.
Ian had first returned to the extra dimension.
Then, he had drilled his way back to the first-floor bathroom from the extra dimension. At 12:42 AM, the house was already dark, but this did not dampen Ian's creative enthusiasm.
"Howard needs a bit more fleshing out in the Iron Man story." Ian was still savoring his experience in the Marvel Universe, and he also regretted the fact that Howard was dead in the Marvel Universe. He was drawing a scientist in a suit holding an abacus, his eyes firm and piercing. That was his imagined image of Howard.
He even wrote a line in the corner of the drawing.
"May everything you have done finally be remembered in the future."
After finishing this drawing.
Ian still felt a great sense of regret.
That man who once stood alone at the pinnacle of an era, that great father who used a mortal body to fight against fate, hadn't had the chance to be developed into a believer by the Evil God.
Heaven knew how much Ian wanted such a quality believer, a true external brain. After all, the wisdom of the believer was equal to the wisdom of the Evil God.
Having a believer of Howard Stark's caliber would be like installing a quantum computer in his own head. Unfortunately, Ian could only try to find Mister Fantastic the next time he entered Marvel.
"It's not just my regret! I believe this must also be Howard's regret!" The charcoal pencil made several heavy marks on the paper. Ian then started drawing another periodical.
[Writer EXP +1]
[Writer EXP +1]
[Writer EXP +1]
This was a story about Venom.
In it.
The majestic countenance of Knull, the God of Darkness, was vigorously depicted by Ian.
He recalled the Dark God's high and mighty appearance, all the while gritting his teeth. Due to his mean-spirited nature, he deliberately drew Knull to be hideously ugly.
A crooked throne, a skull with disproportionate features, exposed fangs, a tumor on its forehead, one eye squinting, and the other socket constantly dripping pus.
Ian was exactly this kind of genuine mean-spirited person.
He was still holding a grudge because Knull had run off before he could level up.
[Writer EXP +1]
[Writer EXP +1]
[Writer EXP +1]
...
Ian's enthusiasm for drawing was also a way to verify his internal speculation. He had previously experienced needing to draw and spread The Boys in the DC Universe to unlock his profession. Therefore, in his opinion, the cognition of people in the DC Universe might affect the "rebirth" in the Marvel Universe.
This might also be an anchor point that could help the heroes find their "self" again. Of course, this was just Ian's speculation. He also knew he should take seriously what New Teacher Tony had said about being a psychiatrist.
"After all, I'm not a professional. I still need to consult with an expert." Thinking this, Ian pulled out his half-a-cellphone and dialed a number while drawing.
"Doo doo doo~"
Late at night.
In Hannibal Lecter's study, a desk lamp cast a warm yellow glow on the cover of a hardcover book. When his phone screen lit up, he was savoring a plate of steak tartare with truffle slices.
As the phone vibrated.
His knife tip paused mid-air. The caller ID read [Psychiatry Specialist]. Hannibal raised an eyebrow; he didn't recall adding that note to anyone.
"Hello?" Hannibal elegantly wiped the corner of his mouth.
"Doctor, are you asleep?"
The clear and youthful voice of a young man came from the other end of the line.
He recognized it.
It was Ian Kent, his special patient.
"Considering what happened yesterday, I doubt anyone could sleep... Ian, are you and your family alright?" Hannibal acknowledged his identity while offering his concern.
"As long as the Earth hasn't blown up, we'll be doing great." Ian's response was cheerful, and Hannibal also heard the sound of a pen tip touching paper.
Hannibal looked out at the rainy window, deciding to categorize the comment as American teenage humor. "So, is this late-night call because you have something on your mind to confide?"
He began to enter his role.
As a psychiatrist.
He consistently had to be ready to be needed by his patients 24/7.
"I have a few friends who need help." Ian's voice on the other end suddenly grew serious. "They're very, very sick. Extremely sick. Probably more terminally ill than the sickest patient you've ever seen."
Yes.
Ian hoped to ask Hannibal for help.
Whether it was as a person or as a doctor, he knew Hannibal was a top-tier professional.
"Oh? I imagine... you've joined a mental health support group?" Hannibal was intrigued. He set down his dinner knife and began to focus on his inquiry and thoughts.
After all.
He had always considered Ian the most complex patient he had ever encountered. If even Ian thought they were very sick, they were either extremely normal people or truly the gods of mental illness.
"Something like that."
The sound of a window closing came through.
"I just want to help them."
Ian's voice was sincere.
"That's very kind. Can you describe their symptoms?" Hannibal pulled out his notebook, preparing to take notes, but the person on the other end only played a few audio clips.
"Please wait a moment."
Ian pulled out his black box and played the heartbeats, pulses, and breathing sounds of four people for Hannibal—Thor was not among them, though he figured Nick Fury was probably also quite ill.
"Can you hear that? If not clearly, should I send you the audio files? I even have videos. Don't worry about my data, I have free, unlimited data."
Ian asked after playing the audio.
"I hear it very clearly. However, the topic we should be discussing now is the mental state of your friends, and what you think is abnormal, isn't it?"
Hannibal subtly conveyed that he didn't need these materials.
At least not yet.
"Isn't it true that most mental illnesses are related to organic pathological changes?" Ian's counter-question was as earnest as an academic discussion. He had indeed read some books on mental illness.
He wasn't bluffing.
"That is correct." Hannibal narrowed his eyes, adding a supplementary answer. "But many also stem from psychological trauma, especially in Western countries, where diseases induced by psychological reasons are actually the most common."
He was, after all, more professional than Ian.
Ian did not object.
After all, a true master always needs to maintain the heart of an apprentice.
He understood this well.
"Then will giving them more medication solve it?"
Ian tentatively asked, and the silver dinner knife in Hannibal's hand bent into the shape of a question mark. He recalled a certain patient of his who ate anti-anxiety medicine like candy.
That man must have turned into a young boy by now.
Doing the math on his death date.
He must be around five or six years old now.
Hannibal was silent for a longer time this time.
"Medicine is not a panacea."
He finally spoke patiently. "If the conditions allow, I would like to meet your friends. I will not charge, I simply wish to understand more cases."
It was clear.
Hannibal was genuinely curious about the mentally ill people who were Ian's friends.
However.
The sound of rubbing fabric came from the other end of the line.
It sounded like Ian was shaking his head.
"Perhaps no one but me can meet them."
The boy sighed.
Doctor Hannibal was starting to become suspicious.
"Are those your imaginary friends?" He didn't use the common method of humoring patients. He preferred to get straight to the point and asked without hesitation.
"Of course not. I'm not mentally ill, where would I get imaginary friends?" Ian's counter-question made Hannibal wipe his forehead, feeling a bit speechless.
"They're superheroes, so it's not convenient for them to meet other people. I know lots of superheroes, and they're all very dutiful to me," the boy added, elaborating on his claim.
Due to his unspoken difficulties.
He was actually thinking about whether he should grow two cameras on his head the next time he returned to Marvel, to record the words and deeds of those superheroes constantly.
Maybe he could take Doctor Hannibal to Marvel, too?
However.
Kidnapping one's own psychiatrist must be a felony.
Ian was, after all, a law-abiding citizen.
He rarely committed crimes.
"Is that so."
Doctor Hannibal didn't betray any of his thoughts, and his tone revealed neither belief nor disbelief. Just as he was about to guide the conversation, a flurry of hurried movement suddenly came through the earpiece.
Followed by Ian's exclamation.
"Hold on a minute! My body is glowing!"
His voice was one of great surprise.
Hannibal was instantly bewildered.
"Did you take any illegal drugs?"
The psychiatrist thought the situation was complicated.
The probability of American teenagers using illicit substances was not low.
"No, I haven't been picking mushrooms on the roadside. I don't need to eat wild mushrooms when I write. Oh, I do have a wild toad, but I'm keeping it in my pet's throat."
Ian's response only increased Hannibal's suspicion.
He was just about to try a probing question.
When he heard an exclamation.
"Mom! Dad! Where are you! Ian blew up our new house again!" That sounded like an older boy, his voice terrified, a hysterical shout full of anguish.
"Oh, Doctor, wait a few minutes... I think I'm really going to get a beating this time. It makes sense, after all, I won the jackpot, so according to relativity, I'm definitely due for a beating."
Ian's voice abruptly cut off at this moment.
The call was disconnected.
Hannibal held the hot phone.
He was hesitant about calling the Kent couple.
After all.
It seemed like there was more than one high and hysterical child in the Kent household right now.
Just then.
"Rumble~"
Following a huge crash.
Doctor Hannibal rushed to the window.
The next moment.
His expression froze on his face.
He saw.
Outside the window.
Although it was only midnight... the sky was bright, brighter than daytime.
***
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