Jonathan was a high school athlete who played football.
Regarding the lifestyle habits brought about by the late Kobe Bryant, he didn't possess any particular fetish for seeing what a certain city looked like at various hours of the early morning, so his current experience was exceptionally uncomfortable.
Perhaps Damian and Jordan couldn't figure things out.
But he could.
He didn't even possess the energy to complain anymore. Evidently, they were exactly that flash of inspiration that entered Ian's mind right before sleeping, yet which he failed to grasp—the "forgotten something."
Simultaneously, they were also the targets to whom their fathers had zero desire to extend a helping hand.
This thought of Jonathan's was completely free of errors; exactly as Jonathan implicitly speculated within his heart, their plight wasn't entirely forgotten.
As early as when Ian transformed into the "God of Light" to stage the final curtain-call farce, Superman Clark—who was hovering in outer space, cautiously pushing Earth back toward its original orbit—had already captured the pitiful sight of his eldest son, second son, and Damian remaining tied up within the church ruins using his super-hearing and super-vision that blanketed the globe.
A shred of intolerance flitted across his heart. But almost at the exact same moment, Batman Bruce Wayne's voice—calm to a degree that barely resembled a human's—transmitted through his communicator.
"Clark, the coordinates for Jonathan, Jordan, and Damian have been synchronized to you."
Batman opened his mouth to speak.
Superman went silent for a brief moment, responding: "I see it. They... are still there."
"Mm." Bruce's voice lacked any ripples. "According to behavioral psychology and frustration education theory, allowing them to fully experience the direct consequences brought about by their own actions within a relatively safe yet deeply memorable environment aids in reinforcing and updating their cognitive awareness, allowing them to excellently avoid repeating the same mistake in the future."
"They need to comprehend that not all enemies will grant them an opportunity to grow mid-battle." When debating "heartlessness" toward one's descendants, Batman was still the most formidable after all.
Hearing this, Clark looked at the blue planet below that was slowly shifting under the envelope of his bio-electric field, then cast a "glance" at the three teenagers shivering within the night wind inside the ruins.
Ultimately, that shred of intolerance was suppressed by a fatherly style of "rationality."
He let out a sigh: "You're right, Bruce. It's time to let them remember this lesson. Let's just... suspend them for one night. At any rate, given their physiques, they won't freeze to death."
This was Clark's final decision.
Consequently, the two "strict fathers," operating under this tacit understanding, defaulted to the arrangement of allowing the three teenage heroes to act as "wind-dried chickens" for a night inside the shattered church.
And following Ian's "resolution" of the threats from Darkseid and Trigon, the cosmic-level crisis enveloping Earth was declared resolved. The other members of the Justice League—such as Wonder Woman, Flash, Cyborg, and Aquaman—after confirming no large-scale disasters were erupting in the aftermath, likewise received Batman's directive of "crisis resolved, return to your positions" one after another.
Although they would all secretly chirp and complain about Batman behind his back, they still knew to abide by Batman's Justice League decisions, so they successively departed from this land of trouble that was Metropolis.
"Bruce, wait a moment."
Superman Clark, after roughly correcting the Earth's orbit, originally intended to seek out Batman to discuss the issues regarding Jonathan, Jordan, and Damian in further detail.
However, the moment he issued the communication request, it was directly rejected by Bruce.
"I still have matters to process, Clark." Bruce's voice carried a shred of urgency and iciness that was difficult to detect. "Regarding Ian and everything tonight, we will deliberate further at the League meeting tomorrow."
With that stated, the communication was unilaterally severed.
Looking at the communication channel that had restored its silence, Clark shook his head helplessly. He knew Bruce must definitely have been provoked into completely breaking his defenses once more by a certain action of Ian's.
Therefore, he could only temporarily suppress his doubts, turning around to fly toward the Fortress of Solitude—primarily because Ian's operations were too heaven-defying; even the invincible Superman required a bit of time to organize this chaotic experience of tonight.
---
Deep underground beneath Gotham City, inside the innermost Batcave, Bruce Wayne returned via vehicle at nearly the fastest speed possible. He shed the Batsuit that was stained with night dew and dust, not even having time to change into civilian clothes before directly sitting in front of that incomparably colossal Batcomputer main console composed of multiple screens.
It couldn't be helped; he needed to immediately ascertain what kind of tricks that little rascal Ian was playing in the reality world after settling the battle on the dimensional plane! Especially the appearance of that counterfeit Batman, which severely damaged Batman's reputation and was highly probable to trigger a series of chain reactions.
"That little rascal!"
Batman gritted his teeth.
When he booted up the computer and began scanning major global media networks and social platforms, the sights that entered his view caused his habitually icy blood to nearly solidify as a result!
Although many speculations had previously surfaced within his heart, even Batman—whose intellect bordered on demonic—still repeatedly hit walls on this track of trying to fathom Ian's mind.
Completely out of Bruce Wayne's anticipation, behold, nearly all popular television stations—be it news channels, entertainment channels, or even children's channels—were broadcasting the exact same commercial during prime time!
Across the internet, the splash ads of major video websites, the popular algorithmic pushes of social media information streams, and even the margins of certain serious financial media were entirely monopolized by the exact same theme!
The protagonist of the commercial was impressively a meticulously manufactured, warmly glowing... Spark Lens toy!
Yes, the content of the commercial was precisely that text of unclear significance which he had previously had his butler intercept; namely, the perfect visual presentation of that set of claims Ian had dictated to Madison!
Within the frames, some scenes of school conflicts and the uneasy faces of children first flashed rapidly by, accompanied by tense, oppressive music, looking as though it truly tugged at people's heartstrings.
Any insider who looked at it would be able to recognize that this commercial had genuinely hired a grand Hollywood director adept at playing with human emotions; the sourcing of material skillfully avoided bloodiness while building the atmosphere to an exceptional degree.
Further accompanied by tense, oppressive music.
Then, a warm light sliced through the gloom, and a child lifted the Spark Lens inside their hand, transforming into a cute, chibi-version "mini salted-egg superhero," dispersing unease while bringing about smiles and courage. Although it was blurred out, that form was clearly a cute-ified version of Ultraman Tiga.
Yes, precisely.
The majority of the light that Tiga couldn't figure out had actually been invested into the market by Ian, utilizing a psychological tactic of parlaying a small stake into a massive gain; no one would ever imagine someone would execute such a deed merely to swindle the faith of humanity's next generation.
Tiga's Spark Lens dispersed unease, bringing about smiles and courage.
The background audio was further filled with an instigative narration.
"When the shadows of the world shroud childhood, when unease spreads through the school campus... what can you do for your child?"
"The Childhood Guardian Spark Lens—not merely a toy, but a promise of safety, a symbol of hope!"
"Allow your child to hold a light belonging to themselves, bravely facing every single challenge!"
"First batch limited eco-friendly edition, monthly rental priced at merely 199.99 dollars! Guardianship is priceless!"
The conclusion of the commercial even displayed a line of tiny text: "A portion of the proceeds from this project will be donated to the Anti-School Bullying Foundation"—as for whether this foundation was newly established, or whether the person-in-charge was Ian or Ian's henchmen, that remained unknown, and the public didn't require knowledge of such things either.
Of course.
Bruce Wayne was definitely exceptionally clear regarding this, finding it even more unimaginable that Ian—in terms of "commercial competition"—was actually playing out these routines that "ordinary" capitalists like himself couldn't even manage to operate.
"Has this brat genuinely become possessed by a demon merely to become the Light of Humanity?" The sheer intensity of the commercial's placement and the breadth of its coverage meant the penetration channels were exceptionally deep, consequently causing even Bruce to experience a wave of internal alarm! He immediately summoned the data streams to execute an analysis, discovering that these commercial placements did not utilize traditional bidding or contract models.
Rather, it was perfectly respectable—spending a massive price to purchase commercial channels entirely legally and legitimately.
"His target is absolutely not merely a monthly rental of around 200 dollars! This fellow will definitely launch a scamming service like SVIP in the future; I am even willing to guarantee this using my descendants!"
Bruce, at this moment, became the first person to parse Ian's "money-saving" marketing; unfortunately, not that many people in this world had been victimized by the routines of pay-to-win mobile games yet.
The vast majority of people did not know that this type of monthly rental was actually merely a method to attract others into the trap. Even without utilizing his brain to ponder, Batman knew Ian wouldn't engage in a deficit-generating business transaction.
Bruce Wayne even discovered that several media companies controlled by Wayne Enterprises' holdings were concurrently broadcasting this commercial without any authorization from him.
It didn't utilize methods of black technology; it was entirely because Ian Kent's bidding price was higher than other competing enterprises, and the fact that Ian wouldn't engage in a deficit-generating business transaction was universally known across the Justice League.
"What exactly does he want to do?"
Bruce Wayne's heart was filled with trepidation.
Ever since Wayne Enterprises signed the contract with Ian's shell company, the reports fed back by the technology department indicated that they were unable to halt it, unable to block it, and couldn't even manage to delay the broadcast! As though an invisible power directly bypassed all firewalls and permission configurations, "stuffing" the commercial content into their playlists!
From this, one could perceive.
From this, one could imagine.
Just how massive Ian's investment into this type of commercial was; and anyone who understood Ian even a tiny shred would be able to realize that the more Ian invested, the greater the probability he was confident in generating a massive fortune.
"..." Bruce leaned against the back of his chair, watching that commercial looping across the screen—which was filled with an Ian-style "bamboozling" flavor—and remained silent for a long time.
"..." Bruce remained leaning against the back of his chair, watching that commercial looping across the screen—which was filled with an Ian-style "bamboozling" flavor—and truly remained silent for a very long time.
Ultimately, he removed his glasses, rubbing the space between his brows, utilizing a tone blending a sense of frustration, a sense of absurdity, and a shred of indescribable... "admiration"?
At any rate, he offered a low-voiced sigh of lamentation.
"The Kent family... truly produced a... financial genius."
It wasn't that Batman knew of Ian's vanity and was thus secretly praising him to cater to his tastes; rather, Batman truly felt from the bottom of his heart that Ian was far too suited to be a capitalist.
This method of perfectly integrating extraordinary events, emotional marketing, moral kidnapping, and commercial monetization, and executing channel coverage in such a tyrannical and unreasonable manner, practically overturned his cognitive understanding of commercial operations. This was no longer an ordinary commercial mind; it was a commercial machine that was borderline emotionless!
Capable of taking even the energy of an invader to merchandise and lease... Bruce Wayne, at this moment, genuinely experienced an unprecedented expansion of his horizons and obtained inspiration.
---
While Bruce Wayne was experiencing shock over Ian's commercial methods inside the Batcave, Clark was organizing his thoughts inside the Fortress of Solitude, and the three teenage heroes were drinking the north-west wind inside the church ruins.
Far removed from the main material universe, situated within a specific special dimension that attached to reality yet existed independently outside it—a vast and scorching domain habitually referred to by living beings as Hell.
Here, there was no sky, only dark red clouds resembling coagulated blood that rolled eternally.
The earth was paved with scorching sulfur stones and the ashes of wailing souls; distorted, burning demonic trees extended into the void like agonized limbs.
The air was likewise permeated with the scent of despair and the stench of sulfur.
At the core of this domain, inside a dark palace towering like a mountain range that was constructed from countless twisted craniums and still-writhing viscera, an unimaginably colossal figure was forcibly startled awake from the deepest slumber! No guessing was required; he was none other than the main body of Trigon, who had previously been utilized as rations by Ian yet again!
Across his mountain-like colossal demonic frame, six eyes burning with eternal unholy fire snapped open simultaneously! The fury contained within instantly triggered the entire dimension; the sea of sulfur outside the palace boiled and roared, and the blood clouds in the sky looked as though they were being churned by an invisible giant hand, forming a colossal vortex!
"ROAR——!!!"
At this moment, a roar sufficient to shatter a mortal's soul and cause lesser demons to directly annihilate erupted from Trigon's giant mouth lined with fangs; the incomparably terrifying sound waves converted into a physical shockwave, directly blasting some weak demonic servants on the palace periphery into the most basic negative energy particles!
"My clone... my projection in the human world... has vanished?! Not banished, not sealed... consumed! Annihilated! Not even a single shred of pheromone returning to the main body was left behind!" Trigon's voice resembled the simultaneous wails of billions of wronged souls, filled with an unbelievable, violent rage.
He was capable of clearly sensing that his clone dispatched to Earth—which carried a portion of his power and will—had been thoroughly, cleanly, and completely erased from the plane of existence! Even its experiences and memories from the final moments had become blurred and unclear due to a certain powerful interference.
Leaving behind nothing but some broken fragments.
Precisely because of this.
Trigon likewise exerted his full power, concentrating his entire spiritual strength like the most precise probe, forcibly piercing the dimensional barrier to capture and decode those fragmented, shattered information stream pieces transmitted at the very end from the clone.
The golden giant... power that consumes everything... bizarre dark dimension... forced live broadcast... flamboyant performance... and a name...
A name deeply remembered by his clone, filled with loathing and disgust.
The fragments assembled within his colossal consciousness like a jigsaw puzzle.
"Ian... Kent!!!"
Trigon issued an even more terrifying, even more venomous roar once more! The entire Hell dimension he ruled trembled beneath his fury at this very moment!
A crowning insult!
This was a crowning insult that Trigon had never experienced since his birth!
He, an ancient, powerful dimensional demon god, had actually been defeated and "digested" by a human brat of the main material world in such a humiliating fashion!
This was not merely a loss of power, but a tramping upon his dignity!
"Ant! You dare... you dare do such a thing!!!" Trigon's colossal demonic claws slammed closed, dark red lightning that tore space bursting from between his knuckle joints.
"Do you believe that by hiding in the main material world and possessing some bizarre capabilities, you can rest easy without worries?" He was not yet fully aware of what his clone had encountered at Ian's hands.
Hence his exceptionally defiant display.
Within those six eyes of unholy fire burned the most venomous, most crazed flames of revenge.
"I, Trigon, swear in the name of the abyss and chaos!" His voice converted into the rhythm of rules, echoing in every single corner of Hell, triggering a resonance from the most primal cursing power. "No matter what price must be paid! No matter how many dimensions must be crossed! I shall definitively locate you! Ian Kent!"
"I intend to extract your soul, confining it within eternally burning demonic fire, listening to your uninterrupted wails across billions of years!"
"I intend to strip your flesh and blood inch by inch, feeding it to the lowest ghouls!"
"I intend to cause everything you cherish to turn to nothingness right before your eyes!"
"I will let you know that the price of provoking a dimensional demon god... is an eternal torment far more terrifying than death!"
The terrifying oath echoed within Hell; countless demons crawled and trembled beneath this monarch's fury, presaging a tempest of blood across dimensions that would definitively descend in the future.
And at this moment, Ian—who had just lain down preparing to catch some extra sleep—unconsciously smacked his lips within his dreams, turning his body over to mumble a dream-word that no one could decipher, continuing to sleep deeply—as though that ancient demon god's sky-toppling fury and venomous curse were not even as important as a steak appearing within his dreams.
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666