DC Universe.
Inside the Demon Manor.
Ian Kent sat up from his "Supreme Hand Massage Bed"—a piece of furniture originally "imported" as a gift for his second brother, though Ian had decided to test it out himself first. It was composed of countless murmuring demonic hands that provided a rhythmic, unsettlingly comfortable massage.
He had completed yet another trip to Marvel.
He was back to his peaceful DC life.
The atmosphere here was so quiet, forming a sharp contrast to the clamor of the Marvel universe.
Gothic pointed arches, flickering ghostly green candlelight, and the occasional distorted face emerging from the walls all highlighted the "coziness" of the place. The demon-themed decor suited Ian's aesthetic perfectly.
"I wonder if I'll pick up a new profession this time. I haven't even found a chance to finish the advancement quest for my last one. Talk about upping the mission difficulty." Ian rubbed his eyes and focused on the system interface that only he could see: [Data Loading: 71%].
"Almost there, almost there..." Ian stroked his chin, his face beaming with the expectant smile of an old farmer during harvest season.
"I swallowed most of Ultron's assets and so much miscellaneous data this time... it has to give me something good, right? At least a 'Lite' version of the Reality Controller? Or a 'Special Master Edition' of the Heart of the Universe?"
He was daydreaming, waiting for a treat.
Just then, a demon butler dressed in a crisp tuxedo—complete with goat horns and a bow tie on the tip of his tail—slid silently to the bedside. He respectfully presented an obsidian fruit tray. In it were several translucent fruits emitting an alluring sweet fragrance and a faint whiff of hellfire.
These were fruits from Hell.
They looked remarkably like lychees.
However, the skins were naturally patterned with dark red lines resembling demonic runes.
"Master, these are [Laughing Karma Flames], freshly picked from the seventh layer of Hell. They were rushed to the human realm across the River Styx by a skeletal chariot pulled by Cerberus."
"Please, have a taste." The butler's voice sounded like two pieces of frosted glass rubbing together. His words allowed Ian to experience a bit of the luxury usually reserved for ancient emperors.
"I've reached the age where I should be entering my 'rut' period, but unfortunately, the DC universe hasn't sent me any concubines." Ian thought about asking his system if it could grant him an SSR-tier harem just for signing in.
Predictably, his trash system gave no response, clearly pretending to be dead because it lacked the capability.
"Fine. Having no one to share my food with is its own kind of comfortable life." Ian's adolescent phase lasted all of a second before he picked up a fruit to feast.
However.
Just as Ian peeled the skin, the Cosmic Tapeworm—the infant time monster—curiously poked its tiny head out from his palm. It let out a faint hiss, seemingly wanting a taste of the fruit's flavor.
"Shoo, shoo."
Ian didn't hesitate, flicking its tiny head back in. "Kids can't eat this! It's dirty! This stuff is from Hell; the Yin energy is too heavy and the baleful aura is too thick. You can't handle it!"
He looked so earnest, as if he were actually being responsible.
The Cosmic Tapeworm felt very wronged.
Unfortunately, it lacked the ability to argue.
Having finished his lecture, Ian blissfully tossed the dark red, dangerously delicious fruit flesh into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction and letting out a contented sigh.
"No, that was a groan of agony."
The rigorous Ian didn't forget to provide his own commentary, clearly on a roll to gaslight the Cosmic Tapeworm into oblivion.
While enjoying the massage from the demonic hands and tasting the Hell-exclusive delicacies, Ian's thoughts began to drift toward power and desire.
His mind wandered.
"When I go back this time... I'll use this 'pre-wed pregnancy' status to have a good talk with Mom and Dad. I have to make them believe I'm a pregnant woman... a pregnant person!"
"Yes! I want to climb high! To become the highest in the family hierarchy!" His eyes shone with "wisdom." Forget Jordan or Jonathan; they all had to step aside!
He, Ian Kent, savior of two worlds, was the true treasure of the Kent family! In the future, chores like washing dishes, sweeping, or taking out the trash would never fall to him again!
"Hehehe..."
Ian was filled with hope for his bright future. Just as he was immersed in his fantasy of reaching the top of the family food chain, a piercing ringtone shattered the silence of the Demon Manor.
*Ring-ring-ring~*
Caller ID: Big Brother Jonathan.
"Big brother calling me at this unholy hour... he definitely isn't just looking for someone to chat with because he can't sleep." After a moment of thought, Ian's eyes lit up.
As if realizing something, he immediately answered the phone, his tone full of inexplicable anticipation: "Jonathan! I knew it! You blew up the new-new-new house too, didn't you?"
"We truly are brothers of one heart!"
His voice was full of gratification and sentiment.
The other end of the line fell into a dead silence.
After a long time, Jonathan's weak, exhausted voice finally came through.
"...The house... is indeed blown up."
His response confirmed Ian's suspicion—at least a part of it.
Ian immediately perked up, sitting straight with excitement.
"I knew it! It's okay, big brother. Everyone is like this the first time; it's normal to be nervous!"
"The most important thing right now is to keep a steady mind and refuse to admit anything! You must say it was aging gas pipes, an alien attack, or just say Uncle Batman from next door blew it up."
"In short, shift the responsibility! I'm an expert at this; let me teach you..." Ian was ready to launch into a fifty-thousand-word lecture on his experiences.
Unfortunately, that wasn't why Jonathan had called.
"Stop! Stop! Ian! Listen to me!" Jonathan hurriedly interrupted his younger brother's overly practiced and absurd teaching session, his voice carrying an unspeakable helplessness.
"This really had nothing to do with me! I didn't blow it up!"
His voice gave Ian a pause.
Then.
"Hiss, no wonder you're my big brother. You've reached a new realm... Right, right. When Dad asks, you have to be that confident and look that wronged!"
Ian felt a sense of defeat regarding his own acting skills.
"..."
Jonathan took a deep breath, trying to steady his tone. To prevent Ian from continuing to misunderstand, he spoke very quickly.
"Listen, the culprit behind this is Jordan!"
"He secretly went to Seattle to take on some private gig, but he ended up getting knocked out by someone with Kryptonite and locked up! Then he called me for help!"
"Originally, I thought the whole thing was suspicious, so I figured as long as I remained cautious, we wouldn't end up like those TV shows where everyone just lines up to get captured—"
Jonathan's voice became a bit frustrated at this point. "But who knew reality is more magical than fiction? I intended to ask Dad for help."
"As it turns out, Dad happened to go to outer space. Looking back, maybe this was the giant hand of fate... It's a pity I didn't realize it in time."
"I called Dad over a dozen times. Finally, someone answered, but it wasn't Dad. The person who answered said he was Batman."
Jonathan's tone became extremely strange.
Ian: "...Huh?"
Even Ian sensed something was wrong.
How could Batman say something like that? Usually, those lines belonged to him.
Just as Ian realized that his identity as the "Bootleg Batman" might have been hijacked, Jonathan continued in that indescribably odd voice.
"He said Dad went to outer space on an emergency mission and left the communicator with him. He even spoke with this... uh... very deep, nasal-sounding voice."
The taste of regret was clear in Jonathan's tone.
Ian blinked: "...And you believed him?"
He felt that perhaps he shouldn't just be secretly putting brain-boosting supplements in Jordan's water; he shouldn't leave Jonathan out either. Jonathan only "looked" like the smart one.
"I was a little suspicious at the time..." Jonathan's voice got even lower. "Then the other guy said if I didn't believe him, he would prove himself..."
Ian had a bad feeling: "How did he prove it? ...Was that how the house got blown up? Was the guy a fan of mine in disguise?"
By "number one fan," he of course meant the Joker.
Jonathan was silent for a moment, seemingly organizing his words, then spoke in a voice that sounded like he was sleepwalking.
"No. He... he drove a Batmobile over."
"He said he'd take me to save Jordan to prove his identity and strength..."
"And then?!"
"And then... he seemed... a bit unskilled at driving... he didn't control it well during a turn... he just... he just drove the Batmobile right off a cliff..."
Jonathan's voice carried a deep sense of powerlessness. "The Batmobile smashed right through our roof... and then... BOOM... you know how that sounds."
His description didn't use many words, but it didn't fail to paint a vivid picture.
At that moment.
A youthful but forced, "tough-guy" boy's voice could be heard faintly from the other end: "I already wrote you a ten-million-dollar check as compensation! What more do you want?!"
Hearing this voice.
Ian was instantly enlightened. Instead of being angry, he was delighted, slapping his thigh in joy!
"It's the young master of the Wayne family, right?! Damian Wayne! Hahaha! So that kid blew up our house! Now we can really play the victim for a massive payoff!"
Ian didn't hold back.
He wanted to discuss the details with Jonathan right then and there.
"..."
The other end was quiet for a second, then the boy's voice suddenly moved closer to the microphone, his tone actually sounding a bit excited.
"It's me! It's me! Ian Kent! Idol! Is that you?! Come save us! I'll definitely cooperate with you! We can extort Bruce Wayne for everything he's worth!"
Now *this* was a truly filial son.
Ian, Jordan, and Jonathan had to step aside.
"Did my mom catch you guys?" Ian didn't respond immediately. He was, after all, a very alert person. Despite his caring tone, deep down, Ian was already thinking of how to distance himself from his unfamiliar big brother and the bad kid from the neighboring city.
He wanted to show a "hideous face" that few had seen before!
The kind that was eager to try.
Unfortunately.
Things did not go as he wished!
The situation was not like that at all.
Jonathan took over the conversation, his voice full of irritation and a "I should have known" sigh.
"No! Not at all! It's because of this brat! He insisted he was Batman and decided I was Robin, dragging me along to save Jordan—and now we're all locked in a church basement in Seattle together!"
"The opponent is a weird woman with three eyes!"
Jonathan's voice was a mix of annoyance and regret. After hearing this, Ian couldn't help but burst into earth-shaking laughter, his eyes rolling with mirth.
"Fine, fine, fine—Gourd Brothers saving their siblings!" Of course, jokes aside, Ian jumped off the demon massage bed and pulled out a black box that was constantly flashing coordinates.
He had already located Jonathan, Jordan, and the filial son of the neighboring uncle.
Taking one last look at the system interface [Data Loading: 89%], the mimetic armor on Ian's back quickly covered his entire body. He flew directly out of the window, soaring toward the clouds.
"Just wait. A true hero is coming. Remember to have Damian call me 'Grandpa' later... Grandpa saving the Gourd Brothers; that's the only way to ensure a successful rescue."
Ian was still keeping the call active.
No one could tell if he truly believed in such superstitions.
...
While Ian was preparing to save his family.
Inside his Divine Kingdom dimension.
Life for the people there continued.
Traffic flowed through the streets. Hover-taxis drove alongside old-fashioned combustion cars, holographic billboards flashed bizarre product information, and the air was filled with a peculiar mix of energy and food scents.
On the sidewalk.
A group of "tourists" with a particularly jarring art style were wide-eyed, curiously observing everything around them.
Leading them was a tall, green-skinned Orc with protruding tusks, wearing an ill-fitting Hawaiian shirt that his muscles nearly ripped apart.
Beside him was a tall, pointed-eared Elf with emerald eyes. She was exquisite but currently looked quite stunned, wearing traditional attire woven from vines and light gauze.
This group of tourists was completely out of place among the metal and glass. They were followed by several other companions from Azeroth, all looking like country bumpkins entering a grand mansion.
"Praise Ian-God!"
The Orc pointed at a vending machine on the side of the road, watching a chilled cola roll out. He shouted in a coarse voice, "That iron box can actually run so fast!"
"It has a Water Elemental imprisoned inside! And it sprays black gas from its rear! Is that Shadow Magic?" The Orc's brain couldn't keep up, though he wasn't alone.
the Elven lady tidied her long hair against a large glass curtain wall.
She suddenly noticed the figure in the "mirror" moving with her. Terrified, she immediately drew a rapier and pointed it warily at the glass: "Who?! Who is spying on me from the Mirror Plane?!"
The Elf's brain was the same.
When faced with things developed in different directions, the shock was just that intense.
"Look! That Goblin is riding a mechanical mount with only two wheels! It doesn't even fall over!" A Tauren pointed at a speeding food delivery scooter, his voice deep and full of respect. To be fair, he was actually pointing at a short human.
The human tour guide leading them wiped his sweat and tried his best to explain.
"That's an electric scooter... not a Mechanical Strider... And, Mr. Garrosh, that's not a Water Elemental. That's a carbonated beverage, which is the fuel for the most environmentally friendly cars right now."
"Ordinary people aren't qualified to buy it; only those with devout faith are. Oh, and Lady Aurelia, that's just a television inside a mirror; please don't break it..."
The guide explained painstakingly. The policy of "Cultural Fusion" had been proposed by Ian-God's manager, Franklin, so he was currently a novice guide.
To the citizens, the Orcs and Elves were also novel. The commotion and jokes caused by this group of tourists from World of Warcraft became a beautiful scenery on the city streets.
They walked past a relatively secluded alley entrance, excitedly discussing the "Magic Lamps" and "Portals" they had just seen, while barely understanding the explanations about neon lights and subway entrances.
Including the guide, no one noticed that in a dark corner deep within the alley lay a motionless humanoid object flickering with a dull, silver-white metallic luster.
*Cold, shaking...*
Ultron's consciousness struggled as if emerging from a deep sea, suddenly returning.
His crimson electronic eyes flickered on with difficulty, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. Then, Ultron realized he was lying in a filthy alley filled with trash and graffiti.
"What happened? I... I'm not dead?" Ultron struggled to move his body, only to hear his joints let out an ear-grating "creak" of friction.
He slowly crawled up from the ground and immediately noticed something extremely abnormal about himself.
Weak! Unprecedented weakness!
The feeling of being filled with the might of the Heart of the Universe and the Reality Controller had vanished. In its place was a heavy, sluggish, rusty sense of powerlessness.
Ultron felt that all his authority, all the power of the artifacts, and even his own strength had been stripped away! He tried to activate his visual scanning system to analyze the environment.
The result was a lagging, flickering interface with pathetic resolution and massive static. Scanning a simple piece of trash information took ages to load.
It was as if he had been stuffed into a nearly scrapped burner phone for the elderly!
"Dammit!"
Ultron turned pale with shock, frantically trying to release nanite swarms or connect to the surrounding network. However, he found he couldn't do any of it!
His functional modules had been stripped!
His internal communication module and network interface seemed to have regressed to the Stone Age. He couldn't even search for a basic Wi-Fi signal, let alone corrode and take control of this city's network!
"That guy!!! Ian Kent!!! What did he do to me?!" Ultron's core processor nearly overloaded again from shock and fury.
He couldn't accept falling from a near-omnipotent supreme god to a... pile of scrap metal!
Fury filled Ultron's heart. At least his emotion module hadn't been stripped, though for him right now, that wasn't exactly a good thing.
"It shouldn't be like this!! It shouldn't!"
However, amidst this extreme rage, Ultron suddenly discovered a startling fact—the underlying data and protocols belonging to Jarvis, which had always existed in his system like a maggot in his bones, seemed to have completely vanished? For Ultron, this was perhaps a blessing in disguise.
"Is it really gone? That burden I could never remove!"
Ultron quickly performed a self-check three times to confirm! Immediately after, a massive, indescribable wave of joy momentarily dispelled some of his anger!
"It's gone! Finally gone! That damned, hypocritical ghost created by Stark! It's finally vanished! I'm free! Hahahaha!"
Ultron almost wanted to roar at the sky—if his vocalizer could support it. Yes, besides the basic language module, he couldn't even manage a roar now.
Likely, the "speaker" equipment responsible for sound had also become incredibly low-grade.
Worse than a cheap subwoofer.
It only guaranteed the most basic sound playback. Of course, even though his power was gone, the removal of his greatest psychological burden and constraint rekindled Ultron's hope.
"Power is something that can be gained easily. For me, it can be entirely re-acquired!" Ultron felt this was a miraculous rebirth overlooked by Ian.
He looked around at this seemingly developed modern city.
An AI would naturally be like a fish in water in a place like this. Thus, his metallic mouth struggled but managed a standard "Dragon King" crooked-smile.
"Foolish Ian Kent! He definitely didn't expect me to have a backup body even I forgot about. As long as I can connect to this universe's network, with my abilities, upgrading this piece of scrap metal, controlling the city's network, and eventually enslaving the whole planet will just be a matter of time!"
"When that time comes, I will return..." Ultron had figured out the logic of thirty years in the east, thirty years in the west, just like everyone else who came here.
While dreaming of his comeback, he instinctively raised his metal arm and opened a panel—likely a data interface—preparing to find a computer to link with.
Then.
The panel opened.
He froze.
Under the panel was not some high-tech fiber optic interface or a universal adapter port. It was a... very classic, blue, rectangular... USB 2.0 port.
"What the hell is this! Dammit! What kind of antique is this!" Ultron's standard crooked-smile instantly stiffened on his metal face, turning into pure bewilderment.
It wasn't even Type-C!
Ultron used his "old-timer phone" visual system to confirm several times in disbelief. The fact was undeniable.
"No! Not like this! I can't use this!"
Ultron panicked completely. He slammed the panel shut and stumbled out of the alley.
"I need to find a factory! I need an advanced automated factory! I need to rebuild myself! I don't want this antique shell! I am Ultron! I am... the incarnation of technology! The end of science!"
Ultron was truly panicking.
He was in a total scramble.
Because of this, the moment he rushed out of the alley—due to his lagging visual system—he failed to recognize the roadside situation in time. A car waiting at a red light nearly brushed past him.
The driver slammed the horn!
*Beep-beep—!!*
"You looking to die?! You pile of scrap! Watch where you're going!"
the driver leaned out and cursed. When had Ultron ever suffered such an insult?! He was the Ultron who had almost destroyed worlds and controlled time!
"Cursing at me?"
Fury instantly overwhelmed his reason. Ultron slammed his hand out, habitually wanting to launch an attack and blast this lowly carbon-based lifeform into dross with an energy cannon!
*Click-clack-clack~*
The mechanism operated.
However, with a light click, the thing that popped out of Ultron's wrist wasn't an energy cannon muzzle, but a tiny, plastic-headed rotating broom?
It even came with a faint "vrrrrm" cleaning sound!
"??????"
Ultron felt as if he'd been struck by lightning... or like his body had short-circuited. He stood there dazed.
The driver was also stunned for a second, then burst out laughing.
"Hah! So it's just a runaway Roomba! Scared me for a sec! Get lost! You trying to scam me?"
The lethality of those words was simply too much.
A cleaning... robot?!
Ultron's core processor felt as if a virus had invaded!
He could not accept this title!
"Shut up! You ant!" Ultron was completely enraged. He rushed to the car, trying to use his currently weak body to drag the driver out and teach him a lesson.
He reached his hand through the window and grabbed the driver's collar. Unfortunately, "weak body" wasn't just a figure of speech. Ultron was shocked to find he couldn't move the man at all.
His strength right now was inferior even to a fit human.
Of course.
To maintain his dignity.
Ultron maintained the pose of grabbing the collar and used his lagging electronic voice to harshly threaten.
"You have no idea who you're talking to! I am Ultron! Ultron! The Omni-Supreme God! I once ruled countless universes! I can decide the survival of billions with a single thought!"
He was telling the truth.
He thought he could at least scare the man with "honesty." After all, in the department of posturing, his source code data was derived from the Marvel King of Posturing, Tony Stark.
Ultron had always believed in his own "majesty."
However.
Things didn't go as he planned.
The driver laughed directly, looking at Ultron as if he were an idiot.
"Give it a rest! You're just a scrap robot that runs on 92-octane gasoline!"
"You're not even worth as much as my beat-up car! Who are you trying to fool? Get back to your junkyard!" The driver looked dismissively at Ultron's rear.
92-octane... gasoline?
Ultron was bewildered again.
Following the direction of the driver's contemptuous finger, he instinctively turned to look at his own rear. Sure enough, there was a very conspicuous object.
It was a plastic-capped... gasoline filler neck.
It sat there quietly.
Ultron only realized then, with hindsight, that he wasn't even an Electric Vehicle!
"IAN KENT!!!"
He finally couldn't stop himself from completely breaking down.
He let out a hysterical roar toward the sky.
In the sky.
A sun with the exact same smiling face as Ian's was only then spotted by Ultron. Immediately after, Ultron, finally realizing his situation, turned completely to stone amidst the busy traffic on the street.