It was like a cosmic spectacle.
The night in Metropolis was now brighter than the day. Half of the Asgardian Allfather Odin's divine power had been poured into Ian's body, making Ian feel as though his head was stuffed full of magic.
He quietly hovered in mid-air.
His entire person glowed with dazzling golden light, like a human-shaped light bulb.
His hair stood on end.
Liquid-like magic flowed beneath every inch of his skin—the most exaggerated part was his head, which shone like a miniature sun.
His skull was practically semi-transparent, like glazed glass.
Not many people knew exactly how long Odin had lived.
But how vast his divine power was, was known throughout the Nine Realms. Especially as the Asgardian Allfather reached his twilight years, his immense divine power made him an existence that other Skyfathers dared not provoke.
After all.
Everyone with eyes knew that even though Odin was burdened by his power, he still had the capability for one final, explosive sublimation, should he choose to give up his life. That was an attack no other Skyfather could withstand, a mutually assured destruction-style deterrent at the Skyfather level.
Even a pseudo-Skyfather like Thanos understood this. The aging Odin certainly didn't dare to strike casually, but if he did, no one knew if he could manage a one-for-one trade and take down a Celestial.
It was this deterrence of divine power that kept cosmic forces from invading Asgard, even though Odin frequently had to enter the Odinsleep. And now, half of this very power was paid directly to Ian.
After a brief, cross-universe delay, Ian immediately received this liquidated damages payment.
How could he possibly control it?
If Ian hadn't instantly sensed that something was wrong the moment the divine power began entering him and flown to the area above the clouds, it wouldn't have just been a matter of lighting his new house on fire.
"The new traitor and backstabber under the Lord of the Evil God is... Thor's father?!" Ian wasn't stupid, he could clearly deduce the source from this divine power, which was similar to Thor's.
"Boom—"
This wasn't a sound.
It was a tremor deep within his consciousness.
The Allfather's power.
It didn't flow gently like traditional magic.
Nor did it cycle controllably like the power of Thor or Hela. It was a pure torrent of divinity and strength, carrying an accumulation and history of unknown millennia.
"Oh, oh, oh, am I experiencing a cranial divine surge right now? It's more intense than a cranial high!" When the power from the Allfather poured ceaselessly into Ian's head, he almost thought his skull would explode. However, his [Berserker] experience didn't gain anything from it—the reason was simple: Ian's head didn't actually explode.
The excess divine power flowed into his Extra Dimension for storage.
It was an extra organ in Ian's body, now serving as a backup hidden energy source, which was perfectly reasonable for storing the divine power his body struggled to contain.
This "hidden space" created by himself was not just a place to house believers, but also a part of his body—another conceptual layer in his structure of thought and existence.
In short, the Extra Dimension was a part of Ian himself.
Any power within it was something Ian could retrieve and use at any time, though the maximum output would always be limited by Ian's own physical capabilities. In other words, Ian was currently like a Gundam with infinite energy, but due to the constraints of his 'body's material,' he could at most pull off an 'Odin-style' self-destruct.
This was indeed a trump card. After all, if the enemy died after he self-destructed, Ian could always knit himself back together, whereas the enemy lacked his miraculous ability.
Lord Ian could self-destruct countless times, but the enemy might not be able to withstand every instance—thinking about it, this was certainly a stronger deterrent than anything Odin could produce, but it was not a regular tactic.
The backstabbing Odin only contributed divine power to the Lord of the Evil God and not physical attributes—mainly because Ian hadn't figured out a way for a believer to share their physical stats without 'kicking the bucket.'
When creating a contract or a spell, even if you break the universe's laws, self-consistency is crucial for the stability of the magic and the covenant. Ian still hadn't found a way to take a believer's physical stats without harming them.
"My Amazing Man physique is truly pitiful, having to bear so much boundless energy." Ian didn't particularly care about this, only offering a brief sigh.
He didn't have much use for the magical power, Lord Ian's skills are all no-cooldown and only consume stamina. This wave of divine power mostly strengthened his counter-damage ability.
"My heart and head: if anyone manages to punch through them and deal five points of damage to me, I can reflect fifty thousand points... Isn't there a certain mathematical beauty to this?"
Ian knew he was certainly a sub-Skyfather level being now.
However, his physical strength hadn't kept up, not by a long shot.
But, from a certain perspective, this actually made him more dangerous than a true Skyfather, making him unique among them—a Self-Destruct Skyfather type. Whoever dared to punch through would be cleansed by a torrent of divine power.
Of course, this wouldn't affect the efficiency of Ian's [Berserker] class level-up. All he had to do was store all his magical power in the Extra Dimension during the level-up process, allowing him to turn his counter-damage form on and off at will. This was the flexibility and autonomy granted by the Extra Dimension, when he wanted divine power counter-damage, he just let the divine power flow back into his body.
He could even precisely control the reflected damage ratio.
The will of democracy and freedom was clearly embodied at this moment.
"Odin's fifty-point-zero-zero-one percent divine power has made me the DC Universe's first Skyfather Bomb." Yes, it was slightly more than fifty percent—0.001% more, to be exact.
It wasn't a perfect 50/50 split.
After all, as the saying goes, an Evil God who isn't cunning must be insane! Only a cunning and crafty Evil God is normal, it's the same principle as whether a chef steals a bite or not.
If he didn't constantly play clever tricks with the contract, Ian wouldn't dare say he was a Wise Evil God when he walked out the door. Especially with the magical power now flooding his brain, his soul and consciousness had an incredibly clear perception of himself.
"My body is being transformed."
With the constant cleansing of Odin's power, Ian's body was also changing. The physical reinforcement that typically only occurred during class level-ups now seemed to be on the verge of becoming his permanent state under the influence of Odin's power.
Yes.
The magical power felt contempt for its owner.
It would strengthen its owner on its own, much like Ian himself was quite intelligent.
[Eternal Life: Your life has been blessed by divine power. Time is no longer a poison, but an aid to your metamorphosis. You have now acquired a life span without limits. As your age increases in the future, your physique will become stronger under the nourishment of divine power. Current effect: Daily Constitution +3, Daily Strength +2.]
The positive status that appeared in the bottom right corner confirmed Ian's intuition was correct. He was indeed being transformed by the lottery-winning divine power in a way that was similar but not completely identical to that of an Asgardian.
Long life wouldn't grant Ian divine power.
But long life would make Ian's physique increasingly strong. This buff, born from the power of the Asgardian Allfather, was only the beginning if Ian's guess was correct.
As is well-known, Asgardians grow stronger with age, a growth that increases exponentially. If the System hadn't docked Ian's deserved benefits, the daily numerical increase would also show an exponential rise with age. An energy ripple, like a satisfied burp, emanated from the Extra Dimension. The purified divine power had condensed into a reserve of liquid gold, ready for immediate use.
Simultaneously, the "spontaneous appearance" of divine power continued.
"Now, all I lack is eternal youth, and I'll be complete!"
Ian was immersed in happiness, but his joy was soon interrupted when he looked down at the residents on the ground pointing at him and realized something was wrong.
Amidst the rising and falling police sirens, a figure in a red and blue uniform was flying towards him at high speed.
"I'm screwed!"
Ian wanted to run.
But where could he run with a glowing head? The moment he turned around, the boy saw his 'old man' right next to him, the "S" emblem on his chest exceptionally dazzling under the glow of Ian's head.
"What's going on with you?"
Fortunately, the old man's emotions were still stable. Reincarnating or being adopted into an emotionally stable family was understood by everyone to be important.
"Uh, this is a long story, so I'll keep it short." Ian blinked his still-glowing eyes. "I'm... turning into light? I estimate I'll transform into Tiga in a few years."
He obviously dared not say that he had become a Skyfather-level self-destruct bomb, fearing his old man would make decisions detrimental to their familial bond, such as moving him to Mars to settle down.
This was a very real possibility.
After all, if Ian couldn't send the divine power into the Extra Dimension in time, the explosion, even with the power he could currently store, would definitely be more than a question of whether Metropolis would be affected.
The power of Odin—it would surely pack a punch when detonated.
"?????"
Hearing Ian rambling about turning into Tiga again, Clark also felt he couldn't keep a straight face. He looked him up and down. "Does this have anything to do with you disappearing in the bathroom earlier?"
The old man had personally seen Ian disappear earlier.
It was reasonable for him to link Ian's current change with the sudden disappearance.
"Yep, yep! That's it! I was chosen by the light and became one of the Chosen Children, going to the Land of Light for a Trial of Light!" Ian nodded his head like a pestle.
Of course, Superman wouldn't believe that kind of rhetoric. He took a deep breath, showing how well he knew Ian. "Ian, do you have any truth-telling quota left for today?"
Everyone in the family knew Ian's good habit of only speaking 20% of the truth each day.
"I still have some, I still have some, but not much. I have to save it, it's only past midnight." Ian blinked, his expression still unchanged.
This was perhaps a form of coming clean.
At least Clark knew Ian had another one of his strange, hard-to-talk-about secrets—perhaps it had to do with that time they took him to see Doctor Lecter when Ian first claimed to be able to sleepwalk into a fairyland.
At least Clark thought so.
Just as Superman opened his mouth to say something, a vintage phone suddenly rang.
"Hello."
Few people got to see Clark answer a phone while in his Superman persona.
It was a special phone.
After all, even though Ian was perfectly controlling his devastating power output, standing at this close distance, a normal cell phone wouldn't receive a single signal.
"Clark!"
Even through the receiver, Diana's voice sounded full of exasperation. "Your son was an infant deity last night, and today he's transformed into the Sun God King in the sky?!"
"I can see him glowing in the sky from several cities away!" Wonder Woman's voice was filled with shock and disbelief, she even wanted to suggest that Clark use Ian to start a power company.
"It's the Great Sun God King," Ian leaned in to correct. "Great Sun God King sounds better. I've already figured it out: from now on, I'll be the one to hold Metropolis in one hand, unrivaled in the world."
He was feeling a little overconfident.
Diana completely ignored his interruption and continued her astonished questioning to Clark. "This is too ridiculous! Did your little boy secretly eat some of your Kryptonian growth fertilizer?!"
It must be said that Wonder Woman not only held a stereotype about Ian, but she also might have one about Kryptonians, always assuming they had some kind of weird stuff.
At this, Superman was momentarily speechless.
He could only use Wonder Woman's stereotype to his advantage.
"Kryptonians are just like that," Clark repeated dryly, like a broken record trying to brainwash himself. "Kryptonians are just like that... yeah, it's just that unscientific."
He finally admitted that Kryptonians were unscientific.
Wonder Woman felt satisfied.
"Fine," Diana's voice carried a hint of amusement, but soon her tone became frustrated again. "Damn it! Why do I have to praise the Emperor of All Methods after getting this question wrong????"
The sheer number of question marks best conveyed Wonder Woman's mood at the moment.
She was clearly still appealing her account verification.
"Isn't that more ethical and time-saving than watching an ad?" Ian snatched the phone and asked. Wonder Woman on the other end was silent for a full thirty seconds.
"Clark, tell your son to give me back my account! I stayed up all night and only got three out of five hundred questions right!" Wonder Woman openly complained.
Fortunately, Ian was in a good mood today, and his heart was naturally big.
"Aunt Diana! Don't worry! We're so close that I'm about to write a book about you! Of course, I'm willing to give you a pass this one time. When I get back, I'll grant you the [Wonder Woman] certified tag!" Ian no longer needed to hide that he was the 'Mysterious Man,' since Batman had already voluntarily handed over control of the website to him.
This was a gift!
"Hmm?"
Diana, hearing this, didn't catch the important part, only sighing helplessly. She finally stopped treating Ian like air. "Am I supposed to thank you?"
For some reason, Diana found herself not wanting to take the shortcut.
She wanted to challenge the five hundred questions.
Perhaps women who enjoy wielding a whip share this trait.
"You don't have to thank me, I enjoy doing good deeds." Ian smiled like a little bear who'd stolen honey, his face still radiating a brilliant glow.
"But if you insist on thanking me, why don't you come help me fix the house tomorrow?"
The younger Kent son wanted to mend the fold after the sheep had bolted. Clark's face visibly twitched at this moment. He knew exactly what state his newly renovated house was in.
"You guys haven't fixed the house yet?" Diana thought Superman might be slacking off, as her understanding of him was that he could build at least three to five houses in a single night.
At this, Clark was at a loss for words, unable to voice his difficulties.
"Uh, the floor plan isn't aesthetically pleasing, we're preparing to rebuild." Clark knew the importance of keeping family embarrassment internal. The fact that his son had set his house on fire while he was still in Metropolis was too shameful. It was mainly because his boss, in a moment of passion during late-night overtime at the newspaper, had called a meeting to talk about hard work and perseverance, which delayed him.
"Alright, I'll come help you tomorrow."
Wonder Woman didn't suspect a thing.
She readily agreed.
It wasn't just to bypass the verification process, she also wanted to see what was going on with Ian and what had happened to make him glow so brightly in the sky late at night.
Why such a huge change overnight?
An infant deity becoming the God King directly?
Even with the most subjective thinking, it shouldn't have been to this extent!
Diana stood by the window, gazing at the sky. She couldn't even look directly at Ian. The divine power within her trembled, clearly showing that she recognized the leap Ian was making.
"Such terrifying energy. Even if someone told me this little devil was the child of Superman and this universe, I'd believe them..." Diana was starting to lose her mind a little from answering the questions.
On the other side, after the phone call ended, the night wind gently blew, and Metropolis's "light bulb" remained bright.
Ian and Clark hovered in mid-air, looking at each other without speaking. One's head was glowing like the sun, and the other was staring at him with a helpless expression.
It was quite the staring contest.
After a long time, Clark, who had only recently started cramming knowledge of the mystical side, finally couldn't help himself. He pointed at his son's glowing head. "So... how long is this going to last?"
"My head, you ask..." Ian touched his head. "It'll go out when it's supposed to."
He really couldn't say for sure.
He could only manipulate the divine power to project the words "Metropolis Energy Conservation Ambassador" onto the clouds.
"How much electricity did the whole city save tonight? Doesn't that count as a good deed?" Ian, ever fond of seeing things from another's perspective, made a statement that left Clark speechless.
"Er..."
Clark opened his mouth, finding himself unable to refute.
The father and son continued their silent standoff in the air, like two statues hit by a stasis spell. Until—
"Beep! Beep! Beep!"
Clark's phone rang again. At the same time, a dark spot appeared on the horizon—the characteristic Batmobile was approaching at an alarming speed.
The dark armor gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
Evidently, it had undergone some special modifications. Even so, the Batmobile only stopped at a considerable distance, seemingly hesitant to approach the location where Ian and Clark were.
"Hello?"
Superman answered the phone.
Sure enough, Batman's deep voice came through.
"Explain?"
The Gotham Freak was concise.
Clark glanced at his son and reluctantly repeated: "Ian was chosen by the light, became an Apostle of Light, went to the Land of Light, and is now the King of Light."
He paused, looked up at the sky, and added:
"He also learned the Ultra Sign."
Clearly, the old man wasn't completely clueless about Ultraman, as Ian constantly talked about wanting to be Tiga at home, passively receiving a lot of information even if he didn't actively seek it out.
"????????"
The other end of the phone was terrifyingly silent.
Batman felt like the two of them were treating him like an alien. Well, that wasn't entirely wrong. After a moment of silence, he spoke in his distinct, super-bass voice.
"I detect energy more potent than a main-sequence star focused in Ian's head, but it hasn't exploded—our Earth cannot withstand that kind of detonation."
Batman's breathing rate remained unchanged.
He wasn't panicking.
Ian was a little anxious.
"I've got it completely under control! And I'm currently storing the divine power in a superb mystical organ. It won't cause any problems. If anyone is going to blow up the Earth, it won't be me."
This was also the truth.
He understood perfectly that if the Gotham Freak thought he was a self-destruct bomb, the issue wouldn't just be about whether he had to move to Mars. The Gotham Freak might suggest Clark send him to study abroad in the Andromeda Galaxy.
"Hopefully, there are really fairies there."
Just as Ian was about to explain that this was simply how a Dimension Demon God worked, Batman interrupted.
"I know you have it under control."
Batman replied calmly.
He wasn't having an episode.
His reaction made Ian wonder what was going on, but Clark instantly became alert. This uncharacteristic attitude made Clark immediately look towards the Batmobile.
"What do you want?"
He knew Batman far, far better than Ian did.
Sure enough, when Batman wasn't having an episode, it usually meant some other issue was acting up.
"I believe this is an opportunity, Clark." Batman's voice suddenly carried a rare note of urgency. "I need your and Ian's help."
Hearing this, Superman didn't answer immediately. He frowned, sensing that things were not good—whenever Bruce spoke in that tone, it usually meant someone was about to have a bad day.
And that someone was likely himself.
"What kind of help?"
Clark spoke cautiously and carefully.
Still, he didn't just reject him without hearing him out, he was too loyal for that.
"You can use Ian's current state," the Batmobile's hatch slowly opened, having stopped not too far away. "To help me forge a new suit of armor I've been designing."
The masked face of the Gotham Freak raised a pair of specially made binoculars inside the cockpit.
This allowed him to peer slightly at Ian.
"Huh?"
Clark's expression froze. He vaguely recalled a crazy, years-old, shelved plan—a time when Bruce had mentioned building the ultimate armor that could withstand Darkseid.
The Hellbat Armor.
The initial concept for this armor required the metal to be forged inside a star. Since Superman and the other teammates lacked that capability, the armor project had been shelved for years.
"No, you think this will work?" Clark turned to look at Ian's glowing, but not very hot, light-bulb head. His expression was incredibly strange at that moment.
"Why wouldn't it work? The project has been shelved, but Ian's current condition might be the only chance." Batman's voice came through the phone.
"It will also verify whether Ian can truly control that power." His silhouette was framed in the cockpit door, his cape flapping in the night wind. He held several instruments that were scanning and reading Ian's data.
Clark didn't know how to respond. He turned to look at Ian himself again.
"Use my head as a forge? And even hammer and pound on my head? That's preposterous!" Ian definitely wouldn't agree to a plan that so violently trampled on his dignity.
He loudly objected, furious.
"I won't be hammering or pounding on your head. Your head couldn't withstand that. It's only the forge." Batman's tone was also quite peculiar as he responded.
He truly couldn't understand.
And he couldn't make any effective predictions.
Why could Ian's body hold such power without exploding when it clearly shouldn't? Was this the miracle of the New Jesus, who subverted science and cognition?
Batman had many thoughts swirling in his mind.
But Ian had only one.
"That's still a no! I, Ian Kent, absolutely refuse to be anyone's alchemical furnace! This will become my black history!" His stance remained exceptionally firm.
"Alright, my son disagrees, so I won't agree either." Superman had lost count of how many times he had buried his face in his hands today. He questioned Ian with a speechless tone.
There were no other reasons.
Batman's expression didn't change at this.
"I'll pay."
His voice was as deep and profound as ever, but this time, it carried a hint of Uncle Bruce's warmth—at least that's how it sounded to Ian.
He was a child who had been hugged by Uncle Bruce's money.
He wouldn't mistake it.
The three of them fell silent simultaneously.
"Uh, Bruce, I think..." Clark was about to say, "It's not about the money," when a glowing hand reached out to cover his mouth.
"How much?"
Ian's eyes, if those two light-beam-like orbs could still be called eyes, were now three times brighter.
"How much do you want?"
Batman didn't waste words.
He cut straight to the chase.
"One hundred million!"
Ian was making a huge demand.
He felt his head was worth that price.
Batman frowned at this.
Just as Ian thought he was about to refuse or criticize:
"I'll give you one billion."
Batman's voice held no hesitation. He only frowned because he was astonished by the lack of imagination from the poor Kent family. One billion was still far cheaper than forging in a star.
After all, Ian's head was a controllable energy forge.
"What!?"
Ian's eyes brightened at least five times more.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Hurry up, Dad! Forge the armor for Lord Wayne! My star-head is the most suitable forge! The divine artifact forged with my magical power will even come with super enchantments!"
He even tried to tug on Clark's cape.
Clark dodged it.
Even the cape covered by his biological force field couldn't defend against everything.
"What about your dignity? What about the black history you didn't want to keep?" The old man didn't know how many times he had covered his face today. He asked Ian, his tone full of exasperation.
However, Ian didn't care about the questioning.
"I'm Dark Tiga, I should have some black history!"
It was perfectly normal for an Evil God to have a little black history.
He spoke to Clark urgently.
"One billion is my lost dignity, and now I'm going to pick it back up! Hurry up, Dad! I'll buy you a huge house! Don't keep my Uncle Bruce waiting!"
Ian constantly urged him.
Superman could only fly towards the Batmobile.
The materials were brought over.
However, Ian still needed some face. To avoid detection by reporters, the military, and various other forces, he and Clark flew directly out of the Earth into the vacuum of space.
"This is the feeling, I was so suffocated last time." Ian could finally experience the joy of not needing to breathe. The divine power formed its own cycle, supplying energy to his body and cells.
The two of them landed on the Moon.
Ian, who had gradually finished absorbing the divine power, actively lit up his magical head. It was even more dazzling than the star-power in his eyes. In fact, the divine power and the power in his eyes were two completely different forces.
However, both could be used for forging.
Ian's eyes couldn't release enough energy.
But the Allfather's power could.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Clark looked at the metal materials in his hand.
These were not ordinary alloys, every piece was incredibly precious.
His tone carried a hint of hesitation.
"Let's just do it!" Ian said excitedly, his eyes shining with eagerness. "I promise to give Lord Wayne the strongest enchantment, one that even Aunt Diana wouldn't be able to imagine!"
The divine power began to boil in his body, erupting from the top of his skull like a stellar flare, immensely turbulent. Clark felt it was hard to look directly at it.
Fortunately, Ian truly had it under control.
All the energy was precisely contained within the forging range.
Not a single wisp leaked out.
The father and son exchanged glances.
"I'll really buy you a huge house," Ian offered encouragement to his old man. Besides developing his company, money didn't have much other use for him.
Ian actually had a great idea for developing a technology company that could aid his magical growth. He knew how to deeply integrate a Dimension Demon God with a capitalist.
"Who needs your huge house... I just think this whole thing is a little too absurd." Clark never dreamed that he would one day be working together with his youngest son to do something like this.
It wasn't fixing a car.
Nor was it a normal father-son bonding moment.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
A strange forging sound echoed in the cosmos.
...
Meanwhile, on Earth, the night sky over Metropolis remained bright, though a little softer than before.
Many citizens were already easily frightened, and now they certainly couldn't sleep. It wasn't just them, in The Daily Planet's editorial office, Lois Lane and her colleagues were crowded by the window.
Everyone was discussing the night-time spectacle in the sky.
"It must be the military's new energy experiment," the photojournalist asserted confidently.
"I bet it's an alien charging treasure!" the entertainment editor chimed in.
"Doesn't it look like a giant light bulb?" the finance columnist said, adjusting his glasses.
Lois sighed, rubbing her temples. "All I know is that we have overtime again."
The office immediately filled with groans of lament. The reporters who had just been excitedly discussing the phenomenon now wore complex, "mixed feelings" expressions—a big story was good, but a 3 AM deadline was truly despairing.
Just then, the office door was pushed open, and an enticing aroma of roasted meat wafted in.
"Everyone! Midnight snack has arrived!" Tom from the social news department walked in, holding a large cardboard box. "Authentic fruit-wood barbecue!"
The hungry reporters swarmed him. Lois took a skewer of roasted ribs and took a bite. The tender, juicy flavor made her raise her eyebrows in surprise. "Where did you buy this so late?"
"You don't know?" Tom, the reporter who brought the BBQ, was slightly surprised, wiping grease from the corner of his mouth. "Your two eldest sons are setting up a stall on Third Avenue right now! Grilling on the spot with real fruit wood!"
Lois's chewing suddenly stopped.
"Real fruit wood?"
A bad feeling washed over her.
Sure enough, the accident news team's Lisa rushed in the next second, holding newly printed photos. Lois only had to glance at them to know something was wrong.
In the picture, two teenagers in aprons were standing in front of a burning house. One was turning the barbecue rack, and the other was enthusiastically selling to a firefighter—they were clearly Jonathan and Jordan!
"Crunch."
Lois bit into the roasted meat with a blank expression. The originally tender and juicy flavor suddenly became complicated—every bite carried the fragrance of pine and a certain subtle sensation.
Yes.
It was the smell of her new house.
***
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