The sunlight in Heaven was filtered as if through a soft gauze.
It fell gently upon a tranquil garden.
The air was filled with a faint floral fragrance and the chirping of birds. Here there was no worldly clamor, nor the contamination of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, there was only peace and harmony.
"Holy shit!"
In Heaven, one cannot carelessly use common swear words. Ian could only exclaim with a divine expletive in his shock. Under his feet was grass that would never wither, and the scene thirty yards away truly shocked him speechless.
Who could have imagined it?
As soon as Ian entered Heaven,
he saw his grandfather next to a white, carved iron tea table—Super man's adoptive father.
Of course, this wasn't the reason for Ian's shock. His emotions were fluctuating violently because old Jonathan Kent was having afternoon tea with an elegant lady.
The lady wore a long dress that looked straight out of a 1940s fashion magazine, exuding elegance in every move. She was clearly not a woman from an ordinary family before coming to Heaven.
Martha Wayne!
Bruce Wayne's mother, Batman's mother. Perhaps no one in Gotham didn't know her, and even the most dangerous Joker wouldn't dare mention her much in front of Batman.
At this moment, Batman's mother seemed to be having a delightful conversation with Superman's father. Anyone who witnessed this scene would have their jaw drop. Ian's current emotional state was truly indescribable.
His grandmother, Martha, was still alive, yet his grandfather had fallen in love with another Martha in Heaven? Should he say his grandfather was overly devoted, or that he was genuinely trying to improve his standing by diligently seeking out a rich sugar mommy?
The problem was, they were already in Heaven. There was no need to strive for improvement anymore!
"Oh, is my rich Uncle Bruce really going to become my uncle...?" Ian rubbed his eyes. Just as his mind was running wild, old Jonathan suddenly turned his head.
Those eyes, which had endured many hardships on Earth, were still bright and clear in Heaven.
"I can already foresee what nonsense you'll spread when you go back, kid. Get over here, let me spank your butt first." Old Jonathan didn't seem surprised by Ian's appearance.
He playfully chastised Ian with a "fierce" expression and a loving tone. His gray temples were neatly combed back behind his ears, and a ruddy smile—one Ian had only seen in recordings preserved by Clark—was on his face.
Souls in Heaven can choose the age and appearance they present to others. Clearly, the image old Jonathan Kent had chosen was the age and look appropriate for a grandfather.
It was the image last etched into Clark's mind shortly before he passed away. People who live the farm life always seem to age faster. The years had left deep marks on old Jonathan early on, every wrinkle etched on his face documented the sunshine and rain of the Kansas farm.
"Oh, Grandpa... you can spank me, but you definitely can't spank Ms. Martha Wayne." Ian was primarily worried that his grandmother, Martha, who was still alive, would be heartbroken if she found out about this. Of course, this didn't stop him from subconsciously pulling out his camera, pointing it at the two of them, and snapping the shutter over a dozen times.
In response, Ms. Martha Wayne shook her head with a gentle laugh. "If you want my son to give you money, a letter from me would definitely work much better than spreading rumors about me and your grandfather."
The two of them seemed to have an ambiguous relationship.
But it could also be a façade.
Ian approached the long table where the two sat, suspicion in his eyes.
"It seems I misunderstood. Well, I'm just a child, so it's normal to judge grown-ups with a child's mind." Ian held the pearl necklace in his hand and looked at Martha Wayne.
"I think this is yours, Mrs. Wayne." He realized who had slipped the pearl necklace into his pocket: the Batman, Bruce Wayne, who always liked to operate in secrecy.
The weird old man of Gotham must practice his sleight-of-hand often, Ian couldn't recall when the necklace was slipped to him. This was clearly Bruce knowing the necklace could guide Ian to find Martha.
He felt the other pocket.
Ian pouted.
His father, Clark, wasn't smart enough to give him some kind of memento. But it was a relief that not only was Martha Wayne fine, but his grandfather, old Jonathan Kent, was also unharmed by the corruption.
Looking around again, it seemed the most heavily polluted parts of Heaven were the angels' Holy City and the Heaven's Gate outside of it. The souls living here were still protected by God.
Just as Ian was pondering this,
"Kid, they didn't send you in here just to stand around zoning out in front of us." Old Jonathan gently ruffled Ian's slightly fluffy, messy hair with his rough hand.
Ian looked up at his grandfather, whose face was full of amusement. He still couldn't resist raising his camera and snapping a few more shots. Maybe his Grandma Martha back on Earth would like these photos.
"Let me fix my hair first." Jonathan unexpectedly cooperated, using his fingers to comb his already neat silver hair, and even adjusting the collar of his plaid shirt.
He seemed to know what Ian wanted to do.
When the photos from Heaven were captured by the camera, Ian saw that old Jonathan in the pictures looked like a handsome young man. That was perhaps the image he wanted his beloved wife to see.
"So... you two really aren't on a date?" Ian asked cautiously, camera still raised, ready to capture any valuable moment.
"Darling, there's no such concept as 'dating' in Heaven. We're just very good friends, and your grandfather and I both happen to be interested in what's happening on Earth."
Martha Wayne rolled her eyes elegantly.
Ian never knew anyone could execute the act of rolling one's eyes so perfectly.
"Something like that," old Jonathan took a sip of tea. He pointed into the distance. "We live close by. Sometimes we chat about family matters, sometimes we check on the children."
Following old Jonathan's pointing finger, Ian saw a farmhouse and a small, non-luxurious villa. The two areas genuinely seemed close to each other.
It was as if an invisible, powerful hand was guiding the residential planning for the inhabitants of Heaven.
"Alright, I believe you."
Ian didn't want to meddle. He felt that no matter the truth, he should act like a simple child and not pry. After all, being in Heaven meant one should understand that God already had everything planned out.
Hiss~
With that thought, Ian felt the air in Heaven might be toxic.
Since when did he have such a philosophical level of thought?
"I knew this child's thoughts were too unhealthy." Ms. Martha Wayne rolled her eyes again. She pointed at the teapot and the two teacups on the table.
Ian leaned in and saw that the liquid in the teacups was not ordinary tea, but a mirrored surface reflecting scenes from Earth—superheroes busy saving the planet.
All the streets in Gotham were deserted, leaving behind only shattered concrete and twisted rebar. The once bustling city of crime now only had the wind whimpering through the ruins.
It was like an unspeakable wail.
The former skyscrapers were now nothing but broken walls and crumbling foundations after being torn apart. It was deadly silent, as if even the wind was afraid to linger in this lifeless place.
The angels who had fallen to Earth were rooted to the ground one by one. They no longer sang but let out a low-frequency moan, a sound that seemed to resonate directly in the deep recesses of the human brain.
It was enough to shatter the mind.
Even more terrifying was that their bodies and songs were corrupting the Earth. Black ooze seeped from the angels' wounds, spreading along the ground like a living thing, consuming buildings, soil, metal, and even the air.
The rebar squirmed like animated flesh and blood.
A monster condensed from the black liquid emerged. Its form constantly shifted, sometimes resembling a human face, sometimes a serpent's body, and sometimes a cluster of countless eyeballs.
It let out a shrill scream. Superman, Clark, instantly rushed forward and shattered the monster's head with a punch, but in the next second, it re-coalesced as if completely unharmed.
"I need someone to take me to analyze this substance!" Facing the countless twisted, animated ruins, debris, and black liquid creatures, Batman successfully contained some of the black liquid matter.
The worst part, however, was the shed feathers. Every feather that fell rooted itself upon landing, growing into distorted life forms resembling both plant and animal.
They were attempting to shove Wonder Woman into their mouths—fortunately, Wonder Woman was slippery enough. After her Sword of Hephaestus proved ineffective, she swung her Lasso of Truth.
Thunder surged.
It worked, but the effect was minimal.
After all, Ian only had a tiny bit of Thor's power when he modified the Lasso of Truth. Still, it allowed Wonder Woman to execute some effective defense.
Bang~
Batman threw a bomb, which sucked all the material toward its center.
Then, he realized the bomb he threw had become animated. Combined with the surrounding matter sucked to the center, it turned into a massive creature, which somewhat felt like an artificial increase in difficulty.
"Damn it! Water! Give me some water!"
Aquaman was relatively weak on land.
He ran around frantically, and the massive creature seemed quite interested in him, chasing him relentlessly. This New God of DC almost became part of the colossal entity.
"Bruce, I'll take you to your base!"
Superman flew over.
He reached out and grabbed Batman's—skull. Batman froze completely, not daring to move. The two flew off to a certain location, maintaining this "eagle catching the chick" posture.
Sizzle Sizzle~
A scene like television static appeared on the tea's surface.
"It seems Bruce set up precautions at that location to prevent Heaven from spying." Martha Wayne was not surprised, she knew how severe her son's paranoia was.
"Yes, I need to find the source of the pollution." At this moment, Ian also recalled why he had entered Heaven. He needed to resolve the source of the contamination, the notebook, at its root.
Of course, he also wanted to sample the flowers, plants, birds, beasts, architectural bricks, tiles, and the rumored taste of the Holy Lake's water... A gourmet must always remember he is a gourmet, no matter where he goes.
"Tasteless."
Ian pulled some flowers and stuffed them into his mouth. He was slightly disappointed since he didn't receive any System feedback on experience points. This made old Jonathan feel a bit awkward in front of Martha Wayne.
Fortunately, Martha Wayne just chuckled lightly and didn't comment on Ian's pica.
"Your rich Uncle Bruce might be willing to pay a high price for some photos of his mother." Martha Wayne tidied her clothes before Ian was about to leave.
"Great, great! Mrs. Wayne, your suggestion is brilliant!" Ian's eyes lit up at the words, and he couldn't help but sigh in admiration that Martha Wayne was indeed a woman who married a capitalist.
While continuously snapping photos of Martha with his camera, he began mentally calculating his sales strategy: a side profile would be one price, a full-face shot another, and a smile yet another.
What was this called?
It was called drawing inferences from one instance.
Mr. Ian has always had a talent for being a capitalist!
"Mrs. Wayne, I have a business proposal that is guaranteed to be a huge success!" Ian had finally found someone with a business mind, and of course, he wanted to seize this hard-won opportunity.
Martha Wayne elegantly set down her teacup, arching an eyebrow slightly.
"Oh?"
She didn't see old Jonathan silently put on his headphones.
The next moment, this Mrs. Wayne was subjected to Ian's shocking wisdom. Ian's eyes were shining, his expression filled with anticipation for the future, and his tone was brimming with excitement.
"Perhaps we should partner up to sell indulgences. I'll be in charge of smuggling people, and you'll handle the placement—I'm about to go save the angels, so it's absolutely fair for me to sell indulgences on Earth!"
Ian clasped his hands together, as if announcing a great invention.
"..."
Mrs. Wayne was stunned for a long while.
She turned to look at old Jonathan, who was calmly drinking his tea.
"Why is this child allowed in Heaven?"
The blunt question was filled with Mrs. Wayne's astonishment. However, in the face of this simple question, old Jonathan, wearing Heaven-made headphones, heard absolutely nothing.
He continued to sip his tea, silent.
Ian was completely oblivious to the subtle atmosphere and continued his passionate pitch: "We won't sell to criminals, rapists, or murderers. We'll specifically target wealthy capitalists who have forgivable sins."
"Doesn't that prove I'm good enough to belong in Heaven as if it were my own home?" He genuinely believed he was a good person.
This one hundred percent met the self-judgment standard for entering Heaven.
"I don't think that's a good idea." Mrs. Wayne pressed her hand to her forehead, sighing deeply. "Ian, if you really want to sell indulgences... you should go find Bruce's father."
She finally pointed Ian in the right direction.
"And where is my Uncle Wayne? Is he under the table?" Ian squatted down and lifted the tablecloth but didn't find Batman's father. He looked up at Mrs. Wayne, confused.
"..."
Martha Wayne opened her mouth, but ultimately couldn't bring herself to say anything. Her eyes dimmed slightly. After a moment of silence, she merely shook her head at Ian.
Old Jonathan cleared his throat and patted Ian's shoulder.
"Don't ask, kid."
Only he knew whether music was playing in his wired headphones. Hearing this, Ian blinked. His exceptionally high emotional intelligence allowed him to instantly understand Old Wayne's situation.
It looked like he would have to find Old Wayne in Hell. But perhaps this wasn't a bad thing, he was close to finding the entrance to Hell, and indulgences would surely fetch a higher price there.
Maybe even demons would bid for them.
While thinking, Ian patted the dead-silent Minotaur on his back. It proved that demons weren't entirely forbidden from Heaven, this world was still one where shortcuts always outweighed difficulties.
"Perhaps you should go save the world now, child." Mrs. Wayne seemed to have had some emotions stirred. She wasn't angry, but she reminded Ian that he should be leaving.
"Alright, alright, Mrs. Wayne, and my hardworking Grandfather! I really do have to go save the world. The MVP will always be the MVP!" Ian dramatically drained the teacup in one gulp.
Old Jonathan smiled with relief.
"Go for it, child. We'll watch you save the world again. It looks like you're much more capable than your father." He encouraged Ian in a gentle voice.
Ian's golden eyes lit up again upon hearing this.
"Wait! Grandpa, say that again! I need to record it!" He quickly pulled out four or five cameras, preparing to record simultaneously, just in case one camera lost data due to a malfunction.
"Of course, no problem."
Old Jonathan smiled and repeated himself. Ian checked the recording content, satisfied that the image was clear and the sound loud. This was precious material that could be used to motivate his dad.
"Dad needs to work hard and prove himself." Ian knew he needed to emotionally manipulate his dad often so that he genuinely believed he was a Willpower Superman.
Martha Wayne watched the scene, sighed softly, then spoke tenderly: "Ian, if you can... please take a message to Bruce for me."
Ian immediately aimed his camera at her.
"No problem! Say it, and I'll record it! Anything you say yourself will surely be more effective than me relaying the message." Ian was always happy to help with such small favors that cost nothing.
Seeing this, Martha Wayne straightened her attire.
"Bruce, you know we love you. So, please, never give up hope, at any time." Martha Wayne's tone carried an incredibly heavy and serious feeling.
She sounded like she was giving Bruce Wayne an urgent warning about something she was deeply worried about.
"Could I trouble you to say a few more words to Uncle Bruce?" Ian did not stop recording after Martha Wayne finished speaking, but instead asked her for a favor.
Martha Wayne did not refuse.
She performed another recording according to Ian's request, repeating the words Ian wanted her to tell Bruce Wayne. Ian thus obtained a new video recording as he wished.
"Perfect!"
Ian was utterly delighted. This place truly was Heaven! As soon as he arrived, he gained a means to counter Batman. Heaven really does grant everyone their heart's desires.
"Goodbye, Mrs. Wayne, and my hardworking Grandfather! Once I've trained Dad into a Willpower Superman, I'll bring him to see you!" Ian closed the dozen cameras, satisfied.
He waved goodbye, knowing he needed to hurry. Bruce might find a way to resolve the Cthulhu-like contamination, but he ultimately needed to destroy the source of the pollution.
Otherwise, it would simply return when the spring wind blows.
Heaven knows when the source of contamination might spread out of the restricted area. No one can guess God's intentions. The best solution was to let the Evil God Boss devour the source of the wicked Cthulhu-like contamination.
"We'll see you again. There's no rush." Old Jonathan smiled kindly. He watched Ian look back once, then fly straight toward the Holy City, which now looked terrifyingly evil.
Under the gaze of the two, Ian's figure gradually disappeared at the end of the garden. The breeze of Heaven swept past, petals gently swayed, and the tranquil courtyard returned to silence.
"We'll see you again, huh?"
Martha Wayne lowered her head and sipped her tea.
She felt the tea was a little bitter. This was a rare occurrence in Heaven.
The lady unconsciously rubbed the rim of the teacup, her expression a little distracted.
A complex emotion flashed in her eyes. She thought of Bruce, her husband, and the son she had never truly been able to embrace again after that rainy night.
Old Jonathan sensed her mood and offered comfort: "Not just us. I believe you and your husband will also see each other again, and of course, your son too."
Martha Wayne sighed softly, forcing a faint smile to her lips.
"Perhaps."
Her voice was soft, and her smile remained elegant.
"That child's personality seems nothing like Clark's." This was clearly a change of topic, and old Jonathan did not bring up Martha Wayne's worries again.
"Clark's personality isn't like mine either, but that doesn't affect our relationship. Family is always family," old Jonathan responded with a hearty laugh.
His laughter was deep and warm, like the never-fading sunshine of the Kansas plains. Martha Wayne nodded in agreement and also chuckled softly.
"You adopted a Kryptonian, and then your Kryptonian child adopted an Archangel... Now I just want to know what kind of outrageous situation your family will pass on next." Martha Wayne raised an eyebrow, her tone full of emotion. Compared to the Kents, the wealthy Wayne family might still be a step behind.
"Ian is not an Archangel."
Old Jonathan lowered his head to gaze into the teacup. The reflection inside had reappeared—Clark was standing in the ruins of Metropolis, looking up at the sky as if searching for something.
Martha Wayne was stunned by the statement.
"Don't lie to me. He is dazzling and shines with a glory more magnificent than any angel, though it seems he himself cannot see how he looks in our eyes."
Her gaze was profound and penetrating. The vision of a Heaven-soul allowed her to see many things invisible to mortals.
"Perhaps that's just the glory of a hero?" Old Jonathan gave a dry laugh, clearly concealing something. His nervous demeanor suggested he wasn't accustomed to lying.
Mrs. Wayne gave old Jonathan a long, hard look.
She did not press the matter further.
The atmosphere between them grew subtly quiet, broken only by the rustling of the breeze through the flower beds. Eventually, their attention returned to the images reflected in the teacup.
The garden of Heaven remained tranquil, but on Earth, the heroes' story continued. And so did Ian's. He was steadily approaching the Holy City of Heaven. The glory of Heaven should have been pure and spotless, but as he drew nearer, a viscous, uncomfortable odor began to permeate the air.
That was the angels' former capital, which had now become a hotbed of Cthulhu-like contamination—a city that was warped, twisted, and devoured, like a rotten, God-forsaken land in the universe.
"How disgusting." Ian could even see that the clouds above the Holy City were no longer pristine white but were tinged with a sickly purplish-black, as if tainted by some unspeakable force.
Unnatural tentacles even writhed within the clouds, a clear sign of Cthulhu-like corruption.
"God must be a slob, how can he stand his own backyard being afflicted like this?"
Ian couldn't help but complain internally.
He was nauseated by the sight.
It was similar to when he previously tried to absorb the Cthulhu black mist. [Error Data] came with physical revulsion. After all, the Evil God Boss and Cthulhu follow two completely different paths.
"In the end, I have to risk myself. The Evil God Boss is taking a huge loss for Earth this time." He frowned. Just as he was about to speed up, he suddenly heard an anxious cry from below.
"Where is Mom? Where is Mom?"
The voice sounded strangely familiar. Ian looked down and saw two familiar figures darting frantically through the flower garden on the edge of the Holy City, searching aimlessly like headless chickens.
"Sam? Dean?" Ian blinked, confirming he wasn't mistaken—it was indeed his classmate Sam Winchester and Sam's older brother, Dean, who had unprotected sex.
"Your mom isn't in Heaven. She's in your old house... Wait, did you two fight your way up to Heaven at fourteen?" Ian landed in front of the two astonished boys.
Although these two were fated to fight both Heaven and Hell, they were only teenagers now. Ian suspected the two brothers had died, otherwise, this progression would be far too outrageous.
"Who are you!"
Dean was startled by Ian's sudden appearance and instinctively reached for his waist—of course, his weapon wasn't on him. So he just patted empty air and awkwardly pretended to be composed.
"Who are you?"
Since Dean was unconscious the last time Ian encountered him, he had never seen Ian. The older boy only felt a sense of strangeness upon seeing Ian.
"An angel? A Receptacle?"
Dean tried to probe, sounding unsure.
Before Ian could answer, Sam, who had focused, rubbed his eyes, then furiously rubbed them several times, and finally confirmed the situation, exclaiming in surprise.
"Ian Kent?"
His expression was filled with disbelief.
Hearing this, Dean first froze, then his expression became rich: "The Ian Kent you said took down the school bully, bankrupted several principals, and was unbelievably awesome?"
He began to frantically size up Ian in front of him.
"Is that how you usually introduce me?" Ian raised an eyebrow, looking at Sam.
Sam nervously backed up a few steps.
"I only mentioned a few things! I didn't say anything bad about you!" He grabbed Dean's arm. "Please let my brother go. He's too young to go to jail just for offending you!"
This guy had a deep-seated prejudice against Ian, probably because of Ian's past threat.
"R-Right! I absolutely meant no disrespect!" Dean quickly nodded, swallowing hard, his voice tense. It was mainly because he was an unemployed vagrant and a demon hunter.
In a courtroom, never mind Ian's outstanding achievements, simply based on the fact that Ian was a young boy, the jury wouldn't listen to his defense, and the judge would probably have reached a verdict in the first second.
Seeing the two demon-hunting boys, one big and one small, trembling, Ian genuinely felt his Evil God prestige. However, he maintained a facade of helplessness.
"My heart has become very broad. Right now, I'm only curious why you two are here." Ian really hadn't expected to run into school acquaintances in Heaven.
His gaze fell on the boxes Dean and Sam were holding.
They weren't very large, very antique, about the size of a shoebox. They were made of some unknown material, with a texture between metal and leather.
They were also covered with runes that Ian couldn't read but could translate with his Magic Book, clearly a form of magical enchantment. He wondered if the two boxes were what brought them to Heaven.
"Wait, you two look like you're still alive..." Ian's eyes seemed a little unfocused. It wasn't that his eyes were confused, but that he was concentrating to distinguish the aura on the two of them.
Seeing this, both Dean and Sam felt their scalps tingle.
"Here! Take it!"
Dean thought Ian was eyeing the box in his hand. He quickly handed the hot potato to Ian. Dean felt he didn't want to get involved in any unnecessary trouble, regardless of what was inside.
"What is this?" Ian looked down at the box.
The box was dark gold overall, interspersed with a few rusty marks, as if it had endured a long erosion of time. The sides were inlaid with a circle of intricate runes. These symbols did not belong to any known language system, yet they faintly radiated a pressure outside the scope of human cognition.
Whenever Ian tried to stare for too long, his vision involuntarily slid away, as if his brain instinctively refused to understand the text, or was influenced by the runes upon it to subconsciously ignore them.
"I don't know. Some random angel told us to keep it safe. Can you tell me what you meant when you said our mother was in our old house?"
Dean shook his head in response, aiming to minimize the loss.
He remembered Ian mentioning his and Sam's mother earlier.
"Mine too."
Sam was quick-witted in school and was equally sharp in this unfamiliar environment. Seeing his older brother surrender the box, he quickly handed over the box he held as well.
"That's Dad's treasure!" Dean tried to stop him.
But Sam had his own reasons. He was too eager to know about their mother.
"We're asking him for answers right now, aren't we? We're in Heaven, and we can still see him here. His background must be incredibly terrifying."
This statement clearly implied that Ian didn't deserve to be in Heaven.
Sam was just that lacking in social awareness, openly dissing Ian.
Even though he might not have realized it himself, it still annoyed Ian. However, seeing the two boxes in his left and right hands, Ian chose to be magnanimous.
Sam's box was also very antique. It was an ancient wooden box, eroded by time, with a deep brown surface covered in cracked lines, as if it had endured countless centuries of slumber.
The edges of the lid were carved with complex runes. It was at least a magical artifact, or perhaps a valuable antique. Either way, it was worth Ian showing his generosity.
"Your mother was killed by a demon, and she has been staying in your old house, becoming a special kind of Earthbound Spirit." Ian gave them the answer.
"What?!"
The two brothers cried out in unison, their minds buzzing.
This was an answer they had absolutely not foreseen.
"Then do you know who killed our mother?" Dean urgently pressed. He didn't fully believe Ian's words, but he knew that a little boy who could appear in Heaven was certainly not simple.
"It was the Yellow-Eyed Demon, Azazel. He's a powerful demon in Hell, a Prince of Hell. But don't worry, there are many Princes of Hell."
"My little car loves to eat Princes of Hell."
Ian gave the answer concisely and clearly.
"You really know!" Dean looked at Ian in shock, utterly amazed that Ian knew the demon was Yellow-Eyes. "How do you know all this so clearly?"
Neither he nor Sam asked about the little car, which slightly disappointed Ian. He missed the chance to brag.
"That's just how an omniscient brain is." Ian tapped his temple. He even knew that the two brothers were vessels for an Archangel and the Lord of Hell.
"I think what he said must be true," Sam looked at Dean, a little excited.
The older Dean's expression kept changing as he mulled over the information.
It was at this moment that Ian began to study the two ancient boxes. Yes, one box was older than the other. The method to open them was somewhat baffling.
"What exactly are you two doing here? Were you brought by an angel?" Ian asked in passing, attempting to change the subject so the two boys wouldn't realize the terrible fact that he couldn't even open a box.
"Aren't you an omniscient brain? Then you should know why we're here, shouldn't you?" Sam frowned, looking at Ian with a surprised expression.
Ian's movement paused.
"My omniscient brain doesn't get used all the time! It needs to rest, too!" Even when flustered, Ian could always find a suitable excuse for himself.
It made sense.
Sam and Dean exchanged glances. They really felt they couldn't argue, so they didn't dare refute him.
"So, what's the answer?"
Ian sat cross-legged on the grass of Heaven, the two boxes laid out before him. He picked up Sam's first, turning it over and over, his fingers tracing the seams of the box, trying to find the opening mechanism.
He first carefully examined the box Sam gave him, his fingers gently rubbing the edges of the box's surface. The mysterious runes glowed faintly in the sunlight, as if they might come alive at any moment.
"Um... why does it feel like you're interrogating us?" Dean folded his arms, wanting to swear but afraid the person might actually be an angel.
"Some big, dark angel raided our house, punched out Dad when he tried to sneak attack him, and then just carried Sam and me straight up to this damned Heaven."
His annoyance was evident.
Sam added, "That angel also said that the world was about to fall into chaos, but we couldn't be harmed, and the things in the box couldn't be harmed either, even the box my brother gave you."
His gaze fell on the box with the metallic and leathery texture. The edges of the lid were indeed wrapped in a layer of worn, dark brown leather, still tough despite the passage of time.
It gave off a faint scent of incense and the chill of metal.
"It seems someone in Heaven realized something big was about to happen, so they chose to protect you two naughty... handsome guys." Ian stopped himself just in time.
He wasn't unwilling to tell the two the truth, but they definitely couldn't handle it right now. Dr. Hannibal was making too much money, Ian couldn't refer any more patients to him.
"Who knows? That guy was just babbling nonsense. I don't know why he cared about us so much." Dean rolled his eyes.
Ian didn't reply.
Click~
Because he finally found the box's latch.
Sam's box opened.
Gently lifting the lid, a blast of old and cold air rushed out. Inside, a pitch-black, shining revolver lay silently—strictly speaking, it was a Colt Revolver.
Its metal body emitted a strange dark glow, as if it had absorbed the resentment of countless souls. A few dried bloodstains were wrapped around the handle, like a curse frozen in time. A light touch could even feel a faint pulse, as if it wasn't just a weapon but some incredibly terrifying living thing.
Gulp~
Ian's breath hitched for a moment. He swallowed. His pupils widened slightly.
"The God-Killing Gun, the Colt!"
Ian was discerning and knew that the object lying in the box was perhaps the artifact of the evil forces. Some said this gun could kill anything.
Whether true or not, this gun had ended angels and demons and once threatened the balance of the entire universe. And now, it had reappeared, slumbering in this ancient box, waiting for the next person who dared to wield it.
"What about the other one! What's in the other mystery box!" Ian quickly hugged the metallic and leathery box to his chest. He fumbled with it, trying to find the mechanism to open it.
However,
"That box has no opening. It's all one piece. We tried, and it's impossible to open," Dean cautiously reminded him, seeing Ian violently slamming the box on the ground.
"It's very hard. Never mind stones, even a sledgehammer can't..." Before Dean could finish, he and Sam heard an incredibly clear, crisp sound.
Sam and Dean's expressions instantly froze.
In their disbelief, the sturdy box was bitten open by the impatient boy. Not only that, but the impatient boy swallowed all the remnants.
[Savage Tyrant Experience +11]
[Entropy Lord Experience +888]
Ian chewed with relish. Of course, he didn't forget to take out the object from the broken box. As he tossed the last fragment into his mouth, he was already clutching the object inside.
It was a short sword.
It made Ian's pupils widen slightly again, then contract a little.
"Pre-war logistics delivery... This is Lucifer's sword, the Holy Blade." The moment Ian grasped the short sword, the blade instantly burst into raging Holy Fire.
The flame burned fiercely, so fiercely it seemed capable of consuming all of Heaven.
"Damn it, I only like beautiful women! God is forbidden from having a secret crush on me!"
The blazing white light illuminated the boy's surprised and uncertain face.
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666