Chapter 353 – The Birth of the Flash
The flames that had burned at the Gates of Hell for a hundred years were extinguished at this moment.
The deep, pitch-black cavern now resembled an ordinary collapsed sinkhole, restored to its expected stillness.
Seeing this, the experts present couldn't provide a reasonable explanation.
"I think we're about to face a tough battle," said Lorraine gravely.
"What do you suggest?" Ellie turned to her, seeking advice.
She had long studied anomalous humans, but was only recently appointed to deal with the hell invasion incident.
Of course, the relevant departments were in the process of forming teams and contacting qualified individuals to resist the demons.
"I need to visit the Church and find my sister—Sister Irene, the Pure. She might be able to help."
—Irene?
—The Saint Louis bloodline.
In that instant, the other exorcists suddenly realized how extraordinary Lorraine's background was.
A direct descendant of a Saint from a hundred years ago—no wonder her spiritual mediumship was so powerful.
…
"Master, why am I tied up?" Barry asked in confusion.
In Los Angeles, he couldn't understand why he was strapped into a metal chair.
Around him hung all sorts of colorful chemical substances.
"Standard procedure," Allen replied offhandedly as he inspected the chemicals.
Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure if the components were correct.
During the last time he was handling a female corpse, he'd noticed that the setup of chemicals bore an uncanny resemblance to the scene of the Flash's origin.
"Should be fine," Allen muttered. "If anything goes wrong, I can always revive you."
After all, his Priest class came with a high-level Resurrection Spell.
Simply put—unless Barry got insta-killed, Allen could bring him back.
Barry was terrified. "Can we not do this? I don't want superpowers anymore."
"What kind of nonsense is that? Would I, your Master, ever harm you?"
With that, Allen thoughtfully double-checked all the restraints—as if he was worried Barry might escape.
A steel cable dropped from the rooftop window.
Bruce, crouching outside the skylight, shouted, "The lightning rod's secured!"
"Get back—don't get hit by the lightning," Allen reminded him.
—Lightning?!
Barry's eyes widened in horror.
With his scrawny body, wouldn't a lightning strike roast him alive?
"Let me go! I'm done! This'll kill me…"
Barry struggled desperately, but his limbs were bound tightly to the chair—no matter how he flailed, he couldn't break free.
Allen ignored him completely and lifted his left wrist to glance at an imaginary watch.
"It's 8 PM. The forecast said thunderstorms tonight."
He scowled. "As expected, weather forecasts can't be trusted."
Bro, when did you even check the forecast?
BOOM!
A clap of thunder rumbled.
Sure enough—it was going to storm.
"I'm gonna die! I don't wanna die! Let me go!" Barry's fear overwhelmed his reason, and he broke down sobbing.
"Stop bawling. Be a man. It's just lightning—it won't kill you," Allen said, rolling his eyes at his second disciple.
"I'm gonna die! I haven't even confessed my love yet! I haven't even had a girlfriend…" Barry wailed like a ghost, clearly traumatized.
BOOM!
A bolt of lightning struck the rooftop lightning rod.
Electricity crackled like a silver serpent, racing down the steel cable.
Sparks burst, lighting up the entire room.
The whole process took less than a second.
One moment Barry was sobbing; the next, he was scorched black, smoke curling from his body.
His eyes were lifeless, his expression vacant—like he'd been fried stupid by the lightning.
"Good, still alive," Allen commented as he checked Barry's faint life signs—he didn't seem too concerned.
Bruce rushed back into the room and, upon seeing Barry's state, immediately reached for his phone. "Call an ambulance!"
"Shame Ray—activate!"
A ray of healing light bathed Barry, and like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, the charred skin flaked away to reveal tender, pink flesh.
"Master, please stop… I can't take another one," Barry pleaded.
When the lightning surged through every inch of his body, he felt like his soul was unraveling—he even saw his late great-grandma waving at him.
Allen snapped, "If you don't become the Flash, what else are you? What are you worth?"
"Sob… I just want to be a forensic scientist… make six grand a month… work four days a week, get triple insurance, and retire early at fifty…" Barry whimpered.
"Drop those loser dreams. You've got nothing but the potential to succeed. Unlike me—no family, legally insane, immune to prosecution," Allen said smugly.
"Boohoo… I—"
BOOM!
The second bolt struck.
Allen and Bruce instinctively shut their eyes against the blinding light.
The room filled with the smell of grilled meat.
When they opened their eyes again, Barry was at least medium-well done.
"I… forget it… just let me die…" Barry murmured as he closed his eyes, no longer clinging to life. His body burned all over; even speaking hurt his lungs.
"Die? No way! I won't rest until I turn you into the Flash!" Allen swept his hair back dramatically, casting Light of Healing with one hand and Cleansing Light with the other, once again reviving Barry from the brink of death.
"Maybe we should stop…" Bruce tried to intervene.
Getting superpowers by being struck by lightning just wasn't realistic.
He'd only ever seen news of people dying from lightning strikes—never anyone mutating.
"Stop? What does that even mean?" Allen said seriously. "There's no such word in my dictionary."
Faced with such resolve, Bruce sensibly stepped aside—and discreetly pulled out his phone to call the police.
There was no way he'd just sit and watch a perfectly healthy person get electrocuted to death.
BOOM!
The third strike landed.
Barry said nothing this time. He exhaled weakly, his body trembling uncontrollably from the pain.
"Hang in there. A few more strikes and you'll make it," Allen said encouragingly.
Meanwhile, Bruce's emergency call had been intercepted by a special ops division.
Since Allen never used a phone, Ellie had ordered her team to monitor those close to him.
Upon learning that a mentally ill man was summoning lightning to electrocute someone, Ellie immediately led an armed unit to respond.
She had just returned from a field mission and had been about to rest—until this came in and dragged her back to work.
As for the search for demonic activity, that was left to the monitoring stations.
Less than half an hour later, a convoy of armored vehicles braved the storm and rolled up to the mortuary.
"Get the breaching ram ready!"
BOOM!
The thunder overlapped with the sound of the door being smashed in.
A well-trained unit stormed in.
"Hands on your head! Crouch down and don't move!"
More than twenty fully armed soldiers burst into the room, fanning out to cover every corner, weapons trained on Allen and the others.
At that moment, Bruce—suited up in full Batman gear—was crouching with his hands on his head, utterly humiliating for someone of his stature.
Allen, however, was unfazed—his eyes fixed on Barry.
"It worked!"
Allen had keenly noticed a flash of golden lightning flicker in Barry's eyes—a clear sign of the Speed Force awakening.
"What do you mean it worked?"