The explosion of Apokolips.
No matter which parallel universe you were in, this was an event of epic proportions. A beam of explosive light originating from the depths of the cosmos, having obliterated an entire planet and crossed uncounted light-years, still possessed enough residual brilliance to pierce Earth's atmosphere. It instantly plunged the entire world into a blinding glare.
In a heartbeat, the distinction between day and night vanished across the globe.
Regardless of the hemisphere, every living creature was forcibly dragged into a searing "noon." In the cities, neon signs, streetlights, and the glow from a billion homes were swallowed whole, annihilated like candlelight before a rising sun by this pure light of destruction from the deep dark.
Earth, in the dead of night.
It was, quite frankly, impossible to ignore.
Human society fell into a brief, deathly silence before being swallowed by massive panic.
Countless people were jolted from their dreams by the piercing light outside their windows, staring at the sky in a daze of terror—there was no sun, yet it was bright enough to make the heart race.
Children wailed, while adults scrambled to their windows or grabbed their phones, desperate to figure out what the hell was going on.
"My God... what now?"
"Is the sun early? No, it's only three in the morning!"
"Is it a nuke?! Is it the end of the world?!"
"Alien invasion! They're scrubbing the Earth with light weapons!"
"Judgment Day! The prophecies were true!"
"Quick! Into the basement!"
"I knew my doomsday rations would finally come in handy!"
"Yeah, I only kept my neighbor well-fed for this exact day!"
...
You didn't even need to ask to know that last bit of dialogue came from Gotham.
Worry, shock, fear, disbelief... negative emotions spread globally like a plague. The people of Earth, plagued by disaster after disaster, had developed nerves as tough as steel from alien invasions, superpowered wars, and dimensional collapses, but they were also incredibly twitchy. Every abnormal celestial event meant trouble.
Massive trouble.
Internal harmony within human society was an impossible dream.
The ghosts of the "Doomsday Preppers" rose from the dead at this moment. Those extremists who spent years hoarding canned goods and studying survival manuals trembled with excitement, like sharks scenting blood.
They bolted from their beds, grabbed pre-packed bug-out bags, and with eyes flashing a sickly mix of terror and ecstasy, raced to their garages. They were ready to drive their modified survival rigs to "greet" the end they had predicted a thousand times.
However, before they could even touch their car keys, their garage door locks clicked open automatically. A police tactical squad, lying in wait, appeared like phantoms.
Riot shields reflected the harsh white light, and stun batons crackled with electricity. The lead officer remained expressionless, his voice through the megaphone calm to the point of cruelty.
"Cease all movement! Drop the bags immediately! All non-essential travel and gatherings are prohibited! Your actions are suspected of inciting panic and endangering public safety!"
Without hesitation, the well-trained officers swarmed in, their movements clean and efficient, as if practiced a thousand times. Those so-called "Doomsday Warriors" didn't even have time to consider resisting before being pinned to the ground, cold handcuffs snapping shut around their wrists—a live performance of the American version of "failing before the battle even began."
They hadn't even started a riot yet.
They were arrested immediately by the police, who were already experts at this.
Global police forces had long since developed mature emergency plans and arrest protocols for these "Doomsday Cults." In a way, these officers might not have done much about the actual disaster, but they at least maintained social order efficiently, preventing the panic from escalating further.
It was a solid assist for the superheroes.
Of course.
The police were worried too.
Ordinary citizens, national governments, and even the shadow organizations behind the scenes were all on edge. The consensus was highly consistent. Based on past experience, no matter what this sudden light was, it definitely meant another massive crisis was about to land.
People had developed a true "sixth sense" for crises. The Justice League's alarm system was lit up like a Christmas tree. Even the bottom-tier superheroes who usually only caught pickpockets looked up at the sky and tightened their grip on their weapons.
They were mostly just calculating which direction to run this time.
Basically, every D-list hero who had survived this long knew exactly how much they were worth and what level of disaster they could actually handle.
The only place that remained somewhat calm was Ian's newest, newest home. On the television, which had been turned on immediately, news stations were broadcasting emergency bulletins.
Almost every mainstream channel—from the serious news networks to the "entertainment-to-the-death" reality shows—was playing the same carefully planned "reassurance" show.
An exquisitely made-up female anchor, wearing a perfectly standard smile, spoke in front of a background of scrolling "scientific analysis charts" filled with complex mathematical formulas.
"Dear viewers, the abnormal light phenomenon you are witnessing is a rare 'High-Energy Ice Crystal Resonance Event' occurring in the Kuiper Belt at the edge of the solar system!"
"Yes, you heard right! Tiny celestial bodies made of methane and ammonia ice, triggered by specific gravitational tides and cosmic rays, have undergone a chain reaction of mirror-like collective reflection!"
The anchor delivered the "scientific" explanation in a voice so sweet it was nauseating. Lois rolled her eyes and grabbed the remote, wanting to change the channel.
Another channel cut in, featuring an "expert" in a white coat with a "NASA Special Advisor" tag. He pointed at a star map that looked like it was drawn by a toddler and analyzed it with great gravity: "...Preliminary research indicates this is related to a periodic 'sneeze' from Earth's magnetic field!"
"Yes, our Mother Earth's magnetic field experienced a tiny, harmless 'sneeze peak' tonight! This 'sneeze' disturbed the ionosphere in the upper atmosphere, causing a million-fold increase in the 'amplification effect' of background cosmic microwave radiation!"
"So, the 'daylight' you see is essentially the amplified echo of the 'infant cry' of the Big Bang! What poetic science!"
"I'm a genius... I mean, our scientists are geniuses."
...
Almost every station had an expert providing a scientific explanation to keep the public from panicking. Even though the experts on each channel said something different, it didn't stop it from being effective. After all, not many people in America actually read their textbooks.
The explanations were varied.
You could believe whichever one you wanted.
There was even a theory about the "Light Baptism" of the "Fifth Sun Era" mentioned in ancient Mayan prophecies, which many young people on the internet were choosing to believe.
"Enough!" The well-educated Lois finally reached her limit and slammed the mute button. The living room went silent, leaving only that dead, unsettling white light outside the window.
"Oh, no, why again?" Lois Lane had just returned home from an assignment in the North Pole less than two hours ago, and her suitcase wasn't even fully unpacked.
She was trying to hang up a coat that was still frozen solid from the Arctic when the weird light outside blinded her.
"For God's sake... okay, praying to God probably doesn't work for our family anymore." Lois helplessly grabbed her unthawed coat again.
She rubbed her temples, her face a mask of exhaustion. But when something like this happened, she didn't even need to think; her body moved on instinct.
Time for overtime.
"Journalism is not a job for humans..." Poor Ian's mom grabbed her handbag and car keys, grumbling as she headed for the door.
Sure enough, the moment she stepped out, her phone rang like a death knell. The caller ID showed Perry White, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Planet.
Lois took a deep breath, answered, and said before he could speak: "I know, Perry. Abnormal celestial event, global panic, unknown cause. It's a big story, a big scoop, and we all have to work until the Earth blows up, right? I'm heading to the office now to start the draft."
She hit him with a pre-emptive strike.
Perry seemed to choke on his words for a few seconds before roaring: "Exactly! Lois! I want a first draft in thirty minutes! I want to know what the hell is going on! Is some alien asshole looking for trouble again?! Go find Superman!"
A leader becomes a leader not just through luck, but by knowing exactly how to use people. Lois's boss had fully mastered the art of managing his subordinates.
"Fine, I'll see if Superman is already out and about," Lois replied dryly and hung up. She looked at her buzzing phone and couldn't help complaining to the empty yard.
"From now on, anyone who writes those propaganda pieces about how 'Americans can refuse overtime' or 'their private time after work is sacred'—I'm going to smash the cactus on my balcony over their head!"
That was the resentment of a professional.
"Meow~"
A lazy cat's cry came from the handbag she was carrying. Super-Cat poked its small head out from the warm bag, its emerald eyes squinting into slits in the bright light.
It let out a yawn, seemingly indifferent to its owner's rage or the apocalyptic scene outside. It turned over and buried its head back into its fur, continuing its nap.
Lois looked at the carefree little guy in the bag, then at the dripping coat on her shoulder and the buzzing phone in her pocket. A deep wave of envy washed over her.
"These days, I really want to be a cat... no drafts, no overtime, the owner takes the heat if the sky falls, and you get fed fish when you wake up..."
She scanned the courtyard but didn't see Ian's "Hellcat" muscle car—the one with the illegal modifications and an engine that sounded like a Cerberus from hell.
Staying out all night wasn't exactly "bad behavior" for Ian anymore, but the sight made Lois worry about something else.
"This isn't Ian's doing again, is it?" She wasn't afraid of Ian getting a girl pregnant; she was afraid of Ian wanting to blow something up just because he was bored.
Meanwhile, a second-floor window slammed open, and Jonathan Kent's sleep-deprived head poked out. He rubbed his eyes, his hair looking like a bird's nest, and shouted toward the adjacent room in a muffled voice: "Ian! Ian! Did you blow something up again?! This is a bit much, even for you!"
It wasn't just Mom who thought this way; the whole family did. It wasn't a bias—Ian's reputation was well-known to everyone in the house.
The reputation of the demolition genius Ian Kent was rock-solid and highly "reliable" within the family.
"Stay here and guard the house! I have to go to the office! Just don't let the house blow up!" Lois pulled open her car door and sat in her Mercedes, which didn't feel so fancy anymore.
As the engine started, she saw Jonathan still staring at her and had to lean out to explain. "At least Ian knows to go outside to blow things up now."
"He's not blowing up the house. That counts as growth, right?" Lois paused, trying to defend her youngest son, though the defense sounded incredibly weak.
With that, she didn't wait for Jonathan's reaction. She floored the gas, and the Mercedes sped out of the driveway, its taillights blending into the unnaturally bright night.
"?????"
Jonathan was left stunned at the window, his mouth hanging open. Aside from a few unique traits, he was arguably the most normal one in the family.
"That counts as... growth?" he muttered to himself, his inner world suffering a massive shock. "Expanding the blast radius from the house to the entire globe or even outer space is called growing up? Lord, I finally understand why classmates say parents favor the youngest child!"
Jonathan could easily imagine that if he or his brother Jordan had caused this kind of scene—even once—their asses would have been beaten red by Mom or Dad.
And not just a normal beating. Under their father's iron palms, their butts would have bloomed into the most magnificent "butt-flowers" in the universe, splitting into hundreds of petals.
"Sigh, Ian is still young."
Jonathan sighed and shook his head, deciding to stop dwelling on his tragic standing in the family. He prepared to close the window and go check if Ian was hiding somewhere, getting ready to blow up the house.
So much for growth.
Learning to use a diversion wasn't out of the question.
However, just as he turned away, a glint in the corner of his eye caught something strange in the distance.
A... flaming, wobbly thing that looked like two bowls slapped together was trailing black smoke as it plummeted from the sky. Was that a saucer?
Even stranger, there seemed to be people standing... or sitting... on top of the saucer? Faint sounds of a heated argument drifted through the wind.
A young boy's voice shrieked: "Just because you couldn't get the ice cream flavor you wanted?! You blew up that whole planet of assholes?!"
"I didn't even get to take my toys! You're a freaking maniac!!" The kid was something else, caring more about his "preparatory adult supplies" than an entire planet.
Another elderly voice roared back even louder, filled with annoyance and a panicked attempt to cover it up: "Morty! Morty! Shut up! You have to forget today, you hear me?! Yes, completely forget it! We don't have insurance! We can't afford a whole planet! Dammit, this piece of junk is crashing!"
"Now, shut up! Prepare for impact!"
Then, with the old man's incessant "Oh—crap crap crap—" in the background, the flaming saucer traced a highly unstable trajectory and finally crashed with a loud "BOOM" a few blocks away, hidden behind the neighbor's roof.
"?????"
Jonathan froze at the window, rubbing his eyes hard. He wondered if he was still dreaming or if he had become a mental case from worrying too much about Ian's "demolition talent."
What was that? Humanoid aliens? Blowing up a planet over ice cream? No insurance? The string of information was so absurd it nearly fried his brain.
Before he could make sense of a single shred of it, the phone in his pajama pocket suddenly rang shrilly, as if on cue.
The ringtone shattered the eerie silence of the morning and made Jonathan jump. He pulled out his phone, and the name on the screen made him even more confused.
"Why is Jordan calling me? Shouldn't he be filming right now?"
Between the weird white light and witnessing a saucer crash, Jonathan's nerves were overloaded. He took a deep breath and hit answer.
"Jonathan?! Thank God you picked up!"
Jordan's voice immediately came through, lowered but filled with panic and urgency. The background was unnervingly quiet, with a hollow echo.
As if he were inside a massive, enclosed space.
"Jordan? What's wrong? You sound off. Did the director try to pull a 'casting couch' move on you?" Jonathan's heart tightened. There was a desperation and... pain in his brother's voice he rarely heard.
"Forget the movie! I'm in Seattle! Listen, Jonathan, I need help, right now! Come save me!" Jordan spoke incredibly fast.
He was almost incoherent.
"Seattle?!" Jonathan was even more bewildered. "How did you end up in Seattle? And shouldn't Seattle be three in the morning and bright as day right now too?"
He instinctively looked out at the unnaturally bright sky.
"I don't have time to explain everything!" Jordan's voice was filled with annoyance and a hint of lingering fear. "I took a side job... okay, it was a request from Ian."
"It's really something here. Lots of scary dark creatures. But I really showed off, I cleared out a bunch of threats for this world in one go."
Jordan didn't sound like he was in immediate danger, or he wouldn't have time to brag.
"And then?" Jonathan frowned. Jordan had inherited their father's powers, but he lacked experience handling missions of this scale solo.
"And then someone knocked me out from behind when I let my guard down! They hit me with an insane amount of force! It took over twenty hits before I went down."
A bit of Jordan's usual pride returned to his tone.
But it immediately wilted.
"Knocked out?" Jonathan thought he had misheard. A Kryptonian with a Man of Steel physique, taken down by physical force?
"Yeah! With a club!"
Jordan confirmed, sounding shamed. "The club had Kryptonite on it. Said it was some 'anti-wolf' baton not even meant for me. Then I was dragged to a room in St. Caesar's Cathedral and locked up!"
Jonathan's frown deepened.
Kryptonite?
That wasn't something an ordinary criminal could get their hands on.
"Who caught you? What do they look like?"
"I didn't see her face! She moved too fast! And she had a hood on..." Jordan tried to recall, his tone becoming more agitated and disbelieving.
"But when I was being dragged in, I caught a glimpse! On her forehead! She had another eye! Three eyes! Seriously! So I didn't lose for no reason."
"Right? She's definitely not human! She has one more eye than me!" Jordan was still trying to find excuses for his embarrassment, clearly losing sight of the main issue.
Three eyes? Jonathan's brain whirred, searching his memory bank for related info, but found nothing. The description sounded more like a mythological creature.
"She's totally crazy!" Jordan continued to complain. "She tied me up tight with metal chains laced with Kryptonite powder! Then she started muttering about how I 'don't look like a good person' and I have the 'scent of sulfur and hell' on me. She suspects I'm a demon in disguise! She's insisting on an exorcism!"
"She's serious! She looks at me like I'm a cockroach!" Jordan panicked again, clearly terrified of whatever this "exorcism" involved.
To him, she was the demon.
Hearing this, Jonathan fell silent for a moment.
"Uh... Jordan, your vibe really doesn't scream 'good guy.'"
He gave his brother the honest truth.
The other end of the line went dead silent.
After a full five seconds, Jordan let out a muffled, furious roar: "JONATHAN KENT!!! THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR JOKES!!! I'm your brother! Come save me! Please! I feel like she's about to come in here with holy water and a cross and shove them up my ass!"
So that was what he was afraid of.
Jonathan felt a wave of relief, but he couldn't help but find it hilarious.
He could almost see Jordan's face, red with rage and helplessness.
At the same time, his logic remained sharp.
"Jordan, listen to me." Jonathan's tone became cautious, almost like he was analyzing a case. "Does this plot feel familiar to you?"
"What plot?" Jordan asked, confused.
"The one where you get caught and call me for help. Then I, out of brotherly love, rush in alone to save you. Only, because I'm unprepared or the enemy is too cunning, I get caught too. Then we're both locked up and have to call Ian for help."
"Finally, Ian comes to save us, and he gets caught too." Jonathan paused, letting the hypothetical sink into Jordan's head before continuing his cold analysis.
"In the end, the villain uses the three of us as hostages to threaten Dad. Don't look at me like that; that's how it goes in movies and comics. So, based on the principles of risk control and efficiency, I believe the best thing for me to do right now isn't to rush to Seattle with a hot head."
"I should call Dad right now. Immediately. Let him go save you. That way, even if the three-eyed mystery person really wants to use you against him, Dad still has me and Ian safe. He won't be as restricted. Strategically, this maximizes Dad's freedom of action and lowers the overall risk. What do you think?"
Jonathan's words were clear and logical, not at all like a high schooler who just woke up. But behind that absolute rationality, there was clearly a lack of brotherly warmth.
Jordan fell into a long silence again.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity—to the point where Jonathan thought the signal had dropped—Jordan's voice came through, hollow and filled with deep suspicion:
"Jonathan Kent... are you really my brother? Is this the time to be plotting 'Wars of the Successors' and worrying about preserving Dad's 'surviving forces'?! Were you picked up from a dumpster by Mom and Dad?! Or are you the demon! A demon sent specifically to piss me off!"
He was screaming.
Jonathan was unfazed by the accusation. "This is the best, most rational solution I can think of. Trust me, Jordan. I'm calling Dad now."
"No! Don't! Don't you dare!" Jordan shrieked, his voice laced with terror. "Don't let Dad know! He'll break our asses! I took a secret side job and got knocked out by a Kryptonite club and locked up for an exorcism! This is too embarrassing! I'll be the shame of the family!"
Jonathan argued calmly: "Calm down, Jordan. Think about it. You're the only one whose ass is getting broken. I'm just an ordinary, powerless brother who received a distress call, analyzed the situation, and chose the most effective path for help. I've done my absolute best."
With that, without waiting for another protest, Jonathan hung up. He didn't hesitate for a second, found the contact labeled "Dad," and dialed.
At the same time.
Superman, who had been discussing how to handle Darkseid's potential retaliation with Batman, had actually sensed Jordan's situation the moment he landed in Seattle.
He was monitoring the scene below.
The phone rang.
He didn't pick up. Instead, he just watched. He watched from above as his son Jordan was placed into an exorcism circle like a pig for roasting by a girl dressed in purple.
He could hear people's hearts; he wasn't in a rush.
That was the nature of mature fatherly love.
You always had to give children room to grow, to let them realize that the world isn't solved by brute force alone. As the saying goes, one learns from their mistakes.
Despite not having a "biological external brain," Jordan's actions were incredibly reckless.
...
Meanwhile, in another dimension.
[Mutant Sovereign XP settlement complete.]
[Based on the life intensity of existing subordinates, you have gained Mutant Sovereign XP +9.]
[You have leveled up. Gained Job Skill Point +1. Gained +1 Subordinate capacity.]
[Mutant Sovereign Lv3 (1/40)]
[Strength: 1458 — 1474]
[Constitution: 1666 — 1680]
[Intelligence: 73.4 — 88.8]
[Spirit: 618 — 624]
...
With his intelligence boosted once again, Ian remained unaware of the chaos on Earth. Waking from a half-dreaming state, Ian Kent snapped his eyes open.
He felt his body and mind grow stronger again. His super-brain, already sharp, became even more brilliant after the promotion to "Mutant Sovereign."
"I have two subordinate slots left. I need to find the best way to use them for maximum profit." He finally remembered he hadn't expanded his ranks in a while.
To be fair, he just hadn't found the right candidates.
"Maybe there are plenty of frustrated youths in the Marvel Universe who crave my help." Ian propped himself up and began to scan his surroundings.
He had expected to appear in the Marvel Zombie Universe he had left last time. He had even thought Morgan Stark, Tony's daughter, would be a great candidate.
However.
Everything around him was completely foreign. It had a "run-down" vibe, but it was much more dilapidated than the Zombie Universe. This clearly wasn't a place Ian recognized.
"Where the hell did I end up this time?"
Ian was confused. He was standing in a massive, desolate wasteland of ruins. As far as the eye could see, there were endless, mountain-high piles of... trash?
Aside from the ship he had flown out of Earth, there were other things that looked like scrap metal—wrecks of all kinds stacked on top of each other, rusted and stretching to the horizon. He saw broken starship hulls with vastly different styles; some looked like cyberpunk creations.
Others had a biological, slimy texture. There were even several that looked like Earth's jet fighters, though their models were old enough to belong in a museum.
Mixed among these metal trash heaps were countless other things: shattered Greek columns, the torch of a half-buried Statue of Liberty, massive bleached skulls of unknown creatures, and even an entire... ship? Ian squinted, looking at a particularly prominent wreck in the distance.
"Titanic?"
Ian read the name on the broken, grand vessel. The legendary liner was now like a toy discarded by a giant, shoved crookedly into a pile of alien fortress shards and scrapped cars, its hull clearly snapped.
Beyond that, the air was thick with the smell of rusted metal, dust, and an indescribable sense of void. The sky was an eerie, shifting mess of dark purple and orange-red. No stars, no sun—only distorted ribbons of light crawling like dying worms.
"So, this is a cosmic junkyard." His brain was itching; he was about to remember something. Just then, from behind a small hill made of countless broken televisions, came a low, terrifying roar. That sound was definitely not something any known creature on Earth could make.
It was primal, violent, and filled with a heart-chilling sense of nothingness.
"Called it! There's a monster!" Ian immediately went on alert. He lowered his body and carefully climbed a pile of refrigerators and microwaves to look toward the source.
In the distance, on a relatively open "trash plain," a gargantuan, nameless creature was moving slowly.
It had no fixed form, appearing to be temporarily condensed from the surrounding exhaust, distorted light, and some form of dark matter. It was as large as a mountain range.
The monster shifted between looking like a massive, wriggling worm and spreading out into a translucent, terrifying face that covered half the sky. Wherever it passed, even the distorted light ribbons were sucked into its body, making the space around it look even more dim and void.
"Alioth."
Recognizing the creature, Ian confirmed his location. This was exactly where he thought it was—the TVA junkyard at the end of time in the Marvel Universe.
Alioth was a monster that consumed everything.
Its birth predated the "Big Bang" of the Marvel Universe.
In the void before time was even a concept, it had condensed from the "primal cloud"—a cloud with no temperature, no form, only endless hunger.
Alioth instinctively swallowed everything around it: tiny particles, distorted energy, even fragments of time. Gradually, it developed its own consciousness and understood its mission.
Consume everything. Become the only eternity.
Alioth wasn't just a monster; it was the symbol of the fear of time. It represented the "End"—the end of timelines, the end of civilizations, the end of existence itself.
It was a unique and terrifyingly powerful lifeform within the Marvel Universe.
"How the hell did I end up at the end of time?"
Since Ian lacked the experience after leaving the Marvel Universe, he could scratch his head but couldn't figure out why he was here.
Ian Kent's brain was still frantically processing "End of Time Junkyard" and "Atmospheric Creature Alioth"—two very jarring pieces of information.
In the distance, Alioth—the massive entity of discarded timelines and void energy—seemed to sense something. Its mountain-sized, ever-shifting body suddenly froze. Countless "eyes" formed from exhaust and dark matter snapped toward Ian's direction.
A cold shiver, the feeling of being targeted by a top-tier predator, instantly raced through Ian's body!
"ROAR—!!!"
A roar, far clearer and more deafening than before, tore through the dead air. The sound carried the primal greed and hunger for fresh temporal energy and extra-dimensional existence!
Alioth moved!
Its massive, mountain-like body was no longer slowly wriggling. It surged toward Ian with a speed that defied its size, a staggering, breathtaking charge!
Wherever the monster passed, the piles of trash were crushed into powder by an invisible force, distorted light was devoured, and the colors of the weird sky became even more chaotic and dim because of its violent movement!
A literal world-shaking event!
"No escape!"
Ian, who hadn't even thought about running, gave himself an excuse. A black-and-red suit of armor with a sleek, violent aesthetic instantly grew, extended, and covered his entire body like a living thing!
Mimic Armor.
Grim, horn-like structures spiked from the shoulders and the back of the helmet. The faceplate lit up with cold, crimson compound eyes! Faced with a monster of this scale, Ian even grew two extra arms for himself.
All-Black the Necrosword and Gungnir were held tight by those extra hands. As for Ian's original hands, they were, of course, cradling the Casket of Ancient Winters—a treasure that had belonged to him since ancient times.
"These things were reforged by Lord Ian's divine power!"
The whale-tier warrior prepared for battle. However, just as Alioth's sky-blocking body was about to crush him, and Ian was ready to swing Gungnir in a desperate strike.
Swoosh!
A lithe, green figure darted from behind a pile of old televisions like a ghost! The movement was so fast it left only a blur!
The person gave Ian no time to react. They grabbed his free original hand—the one not holding the Casket of Ancient Winters and not clinging to the Statue of Liberty for dear life.
Then, with an incredible surge of brute strength, they dragged Ian and bolted!
The speed was so high that Ian, who hadn't reacted yet, was nearly dragged along the ground, his legs not quite keeping up as they scraped against the floor.
Even so.
Ian didn't move his legs.
"What are you doing?! Let me go! I can fight! Don't look at my low health; I'm always at low health! I can turn this around! Look at my gear!"
Ian screamed at the top of his lungs.
"Dammit! Let go! I haven't even gone to the bow of that Titanic to strike a pose and scream I'm the king of the universe! Do you know you're making the universe miss out on a golden opportunity?!"
"And you're holding my hand! My hand! Even my mom doesn't hold it this hard... Hand-holding is fifty bucks! Kissing... wait, you don't smell right!"
He wasn't even finished.
The person dragging him seemed to find him too loud and gave a sharp tug. At that moment, Ian caught a glimpse of his savior in the reflection of a distorted metal tank.
The person wore a green cloak with gold patterns and a horned crown.
There was a black, skin-tight combat suit outlining a slender but powerful frame, and a profile that was a mix of rebellion, cunning, and extreme impatience.
"Shit! You're Lady Loki! Kissing services are closed!" Ian instantly recognized the identity, his smooth talk taking a sudden sharp turn.
"Shut up!"
Lady Loki didn't look back. She just dragged him harder, ducking into a narrow gap between the hulls of two wrecked ships, her voice low and annoyed.
"Why did Loki tell me to find a moron like you? You think those things you find on every street corner..." Lady Loki's voice was sharp and full of rage.
She didn't get to finish.
"Zip~"
Having studied under the "Art of the Deal" president, Ian—who swore only his mother could call him a moron—immediately slapped a piece of tape over her blabbering mouth.
"Whatever the reason for finding me, get a different simp Loki. This one isn't sweet enough." Ian, realizing that the "Loki" she mentioned was likely that ultimate God of Stories Loki, shouted at the air.
"?????"
Lady Loki went into full meltdown.
She joined the ranks of the red-skinned race.
Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head.
***
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