It had to be said.
Trigon might have been lacking in other areas, but when it came to sheer insight, he held a certain level of expertise. He had accurately guessed the nature of the Entropic Overlord.
[All Living Beings Provide Life: Your existence is the pause button for entropy. As the embodiment of the balance between order and chaos in the universe, the Entropic Overlord naturally possesses the instinct to absorb all energy.]
[Whether it is a star or one of those Great Entities... everything that possesses "energy" can be sensed and devoured by you. All things in the world are nutrients to help you grow endlessly.]
[When you are in a Starving state, your Sanity value will drop by 30%. When you are in a Satiated state, all your attributes will receive a 50% boost.]
This was the core talent skill of the Entropic Overlord, representing its devouring essence. Trigon had indeed guessed about seventy or eighty percent of it.
Of course, even given ten thousand more chances, Trigon would never imagine that the existence of an Entropic Overlord was actually beneficial to the universe and the world.
This was true in the Marvel Universe, and it was equally true in the DC Universe. A Planet Eater primarily devours stars and galaxies that have aged, are filled with entropy, and are in decline.
By destroying old celestial bodies, the Planet Eater creates the conditions for the birth of new stars, galaxies, and life.
This prevents the universe from falling into a state of stagnant fossilization.
On a macro level, the Planet Eater acts as a "pruner" and "renewer," preventing the cosmos from collapsing into complete chaos or stasis.
Furthermore, he lightens the burden on a universe suffering from eternal entropy, essentially extending its lifespan. No universe would reject such a "beneficial insect."
This was evident from the fact that Ian's current manifestation as Galactus in the DC Universe suffered no suppression. However, because Trigon did not understand the attributes of Galactus, he couldn't realize this. He viewed Ian as a scourge that would eventually poison the entire universe.
"As I thought! You are the tumor of the outer universe! Such greed... such terrifying power!!!" Trigon's voice carried a hint of a tremor.
It was fear born from the unknown and absolute predatory nature.
However, his roar—filled with terror and the air of exposing the truth—was perceived quite differently by the billions on Earth watching the "livestream."
"Beep— Beep-beep-beep— Beep—!!!"
A series of extremely sharp, rhythmic censor bleeps perfectly covered all of Trigon's "lines."
In front of their televisions.
Parents watching the tense battle let out sighs of relief.
A father said to the child beside him:
"See, honey? That big bad guy is saying bad words again! Luckily, our Lord God of Light is so thoughtful; he censored all the bad things. You mustn't learn those words!"
A gentle mother nearby nodded repeatedly, her eyes full of emotion.
"Lord Eni is so meticulous and gentle. He even considers details like this for us."
"A great hero. He's still just a child himself, facing such a terrifying monster alone, yet he's still protecting our children from being polluted... I'm truly moved to tears, who else understands this?!"
As she spoke, the mother began a post on Ian's platform.
Online, the discussion was even more heated.
"Hahaha, dying! That bleeping sound is legendary! That demon's mouth is so full of filth, is he a Gotham demon or something?"
"The God of Light is mighty! Not only powerful but possessed of high moral character! Love it, love it!"
"Brothers! Justice will prevail! The God of Light took out one! Only one left! Go for it!"
"I've bet all my allowance for the month on the God of Light winning! Go, go, go!" Seeing Ian defeat a powerful enemy and "thoughtfully" censor the demon's foul language, the public became even more agitated. Prayers, cheers, and donations surged like a tsunami.
Yes.
While Ian claimed he didn't care about money, he hadn't disabled the donation function on his livestream. This was a tactic most streamers still hadn't quite mastered.
In addition to money, the people provided Ian with yet another massive wave of faith!
However, while the global populace cheered for Ian's "victory" and "thoughtfulness," the scene inside the Dark Dimension was of a completely different "style."
Despite the power inside him surging so much it was nearly overflowing and his size reaching an unprecedented scale, Ian's performance in the "livestream" was another matter entirely.
The golden giant, who had just "narrowly" defeated a powerful foe, did not press his advantage. Instead, he suddenly clutched his chest with a massive, glowing golden hand. His heart was pounding wildly, and his vast body even hunched over slightly as if enduring immense pain.
"What a powerful opponent." The "determined" expression on Ian's face was instantly replaced by a look of exhaustion, pain, and weakness.
He even began to "mutter to himself." His voice wasn't loud, but it was perfectly captured by the livestream equipment and transmitted clearly to every viewer, filled with a sense of tragic sacrifice.
"Ugh... to deal with that guy... my power... was used up too much... my Origin... is severely damaged..." He panted heavily, acting with great realism.
The golden light seemed to dim a few notches.
"I feel... drained... I... I can't go on..."
There's a reason so many mediocre actors in Hollywood can thrive; the public really can't distinguish the good from the bad. Or rather, in a specific atmosphere and emotional projection, they *choose* to believe.
Ian's melodramatic performance, which bordered on clumsy, combined with his "narrow victory" over Darkseid and the flickering golden light, instantly tightened the hearts of the global audience!
Countless people watching through various screens instinctively covered their mouths, gasping. Their eyes were filled with genuine worry and heartache.
It was as if the golden giant on the screen, larger than a mountain, was truly at death's door.
"Hero... hang in there!"
"Please don't let anything happen to him!"
"God bless Lord Eni!"
Similar prayers and whispers echoed in thousands of households.
However, in this atmosphere of global concern, two people reacted quite differently.
"Slap!"
"Slap!"
Perhaps only the Father and Mother were the ones who, seeing Ian's performance on TV, didn't worry. Instead, they both slapped their foreheads in different locations at the same time.
In a relatively intact block amidst the ruins.
Clark Kent, watching the stream on a public television, couldn't help but smack his forehead with a crisp sound. His usual gentle smile had long disappeared, replaced by a complex expression of helplessness, embarrassment, and "I can't look at this."
As the father who knew exactly what kind of character his younger son was, he knew all too well that the power surging inside Ian was nearly overflowing.
That so-called "drained" feeling was purely a show for the "family."
"Ian's acting wouldn't even cut it in a high school play," Princess Diana, Wonder Woman, commented expressionlessly. Her words received unanimous agreement from the other Justice League members.
"He's still young... he's still young... at least he didn't turn out to be a villain."
Superman muttered continuously.
It was as if he were brainwashing himself.
"If it weren't for his abstract behavior, many people would have died tonight."
See? Superman quickly and successfully convinced himself.
The other teammates in the Justice League knew exactly how Ian was, so Superman didn't feel too embarrassed anymore—the invincible Superman naturally had to cultivate an invincible thick skin.
The person suffering the most was actually Lois, who was currently at the newspaper office.
"Slap!"
Almost simultaneously, in the bustling, deadline-driven office of the *Daily Planet*, Lois Lane made the same gesture.
She rubbed her aching temples hard, feeling her journalist's soul and mother's heart in violent conflict. Looking at her younger son's "weak" appearance on the screen and feeling the fanatical emotions of her colleagues—who wanted nothing more than to put Ian on a pedestal—she felt a deep sense of powerlessness.
Sometimes, Lois really wished she were just an ordinary reporter. She knew her colleagues weren't moved by Ian's acting, but because what Ian was doing was incredibly newsworthy.
Indeed, the reporters' emotion and fanaticism were all an act. Anyone familiar with America knew that first-rate actors became wrestlers or fighters; second-rate actors became reporters, politicians, lawyers, or doctors. Only third-rate actors flowed into the movie factories of Hollywood.
But Lois was different.
She known him since childhood, she had known him since he was a baby and knew exactly what was on his mind the moment he twitched.
Now, at the forefront of public opinion manufacturing—the *Daily Planet's* newsroom—watching Ian on screen felt more complex than watching an acquaintance act.
"What did I do to deserve this? Going to Hell probably wouldn't be much worse... Hiss, if I go to Hell in the future, will I have to relive this scene on an endless loop?"
Lois had some understanding of Hell, mostly from the family member who loved to show off the most. A few days ago, Ian hadn't gone three sentences without mentioning that he'd been to Hell.
Because of this, Lois felt that a "dark room loop" in Hell probably wasn't much worse than this.
She sat among a group of excited, furiously writing colleagues, watching her younger son not only hijack every screen in the world to put on a toe-curlingly abstract drama but also listening to her boss, Editor-in-Chief Perry White. Perry was pacing the office floor, spitting as he demanded they seize the initiative on the story.
"Quick! Write it! Front page headline!"
"The tone! Watch the tone! It must be absolute positive energy!"
"Maximum praise! We must write about this 'God of Light's' sacrifice, devotion, and greatness so movingly it touches the heavens!"
"Even if you have to make it up, make it tear-jerking! I want readers to have tears in their eyes! Let the *Daily Planet* be the most authoritative chronicler of this 'miracle'!"
"Especially make up some inside scoops about this new hero. The audience loves that. Based on past experience, superheroes won't step forward to clarify anything."
Under the Editor's passionate guidance and "example," her peers found their inspiration flowing like a fountain. Keyboards clattered like hailstones. Various flowery adjectives and sensational passages were written with ease, demonstrating the sheer power of wordsmiths.
"At the very edge of physical collapse, he still thought of Earth's safety, of the survival of billions of lives! What selfless majesty!"
"That cry of 'For the family' speaks of his deep, blood-connected affection for all of humanity!"
"The light may dim temporarily, but the fire of hope he lit will never be extinguished!" Liberal arts students were always the best at reading comprehension.
Lois used to be a leader among them.
Unfortunately, her toes were currently digging a three-bedroom apartment into her shoes.
Hearing these praises—which were so cheesy they gave her goosebumps—Lois held her pen over a blank document but felt it weighed a thousand pounds. She simply couldn't write.
Was she supposed to write that when this God of Light was three years old and still afraid to sleep alone, and liked to sneak under her and Clark's bed to pitch a tent when they weren't looking?
Was she supposed to write that according to his relatives, he still hated broccoli at fourteen and could hide it in any corner of the house?
Lois lifted her pen, and her mind was filled with only these things.
Want her to fabricate tales of Ian's selflessness and majesty? Sorry, her mind was only filled with memories of six-year-old Ian learning how to trick Jordan out of his allowance and selling Jonathan overpriced protein powder.
The Mother really couldn't do it!
Just then, Editor-in-Chief Perry White rotated to her workstation. Seeing the blank screen before Lois and the conflicted expression on her face, he adjusted his glasses in surprise.
"Lane? What's the matter? This isn't like you! You, a Pulitzer Prize winner, shouldn't be acting like this in the face of such an epic event! Where's the inspiration? Where's the passion?" Perry White looked Lois up and down, sensing she wasn't at a loss for talent.
"Uh..."
Lois's heart skipped a beat at the Editor's question. She quickly forced an incredibly stiff, awkward smile and her brain whirred at high speed to find a lame excuse.
"I... I might have just eaten too many sandwiches... I'm feeling a bit... a bit carb-dizzy. Yes, carb-dizzy! My brain isn't quite turning. Let me... let me slow down for a moment, I'll be fine soon! Very soon!" Lois's excuse was obviously poor, but her acting regarding the carb-dizziness far surpassed Ian's.
After all.
The prettier the woman, the better the actress.
Perry White looked at Lois with suspicion, but given her brilliant track record and reputation, he didn't say much. He simply patted Lois on the shoulder.
"Get back in the zone quickly! This is the biggest news we might ever encounter in our careers!" Having said that, he turned to guide other reporters whose inspiration was flowing.
"Be extravagant enough!"
"Yes! Yes! Write that this new hero grew up in an orphanage."
"Then he was raised by two dads, and then two moms... write two versions, no, ten versions. Try not to offend any group."
"Add in all the elements—new immigrants, the American Dream, the whole lot."
The Editor was pointing the way.
Watching the Editor's retreating back, Lois sighed silently, her headache worsening. The draft had to be written eventually, and it had to be "Great, Bright, and Upright."
It had to meet the expectations of the Editor and "public opinion."
She rubbed her swollen temples, struggling for a moment. Finally, in desperation, she pulled out her phone. The one who tied the knot must untie it—or rather, only magic can defeat magic.
With that thought.
Lois stole a glance at her shoulder bag.
"Kitty, almighty Kitty, help me write the draft. Remember our duo? The reporter and the cat... it's time we experience each other's lives." The woman who raised Ian was clearly no pushover; Lois actually intended to use the Superman Cat as a Sage Cat.
Awakened by Lois's shaking from a deep sleep, the Superman Cat meowed a few times to express the basic fact that it was illiterate.
Lois looked at the Superman Cat blankly.
Seeing that Lois didn't understand, it skillfully opened Lois's phone, scrolled to a contact labeled "Madison (Ian's Seatmate)," and pressed the call button.
"Ring, ring~"
The call was connecting.
Perhaps Kent family's Superman Cat was the only one with super intelligence.
"Right! This friend of Ian's must know best how to write Ian as Great, Bright, and Upright without it feeling out of place!" Lois remembered the few times she had met that girl.
Hope immediately rose in her previously discouraged heart. Seeing that Lois had accepted the suggestion, the Superman Cat skillfully opened Lois's shopping app.
It ordered itself several types of "premium" cat food with a laundry list of ingredients. Modern independent cats perhaps just had sophisticated palates—if there weren't enough additives, it didn't taste right.
It was eating for that thousand-year-non-decaying flavor~