Chapter 405: Black Death Emperor, Black Lantern Corps
John staggered weakly out of the Continental Hotel, his face blank as he surveyed the field of corpses.
All he did was step away to bandage his wound, and by the time he came back out, nearly all the assassins and hotel staff were dead.
Sensing that it was unwise to linger, he quickly slipped into the shadows and vanished.
Watching everything from the rooftop, Allen couldn't help but ask, "Uncle Punisher, why'd you let that top-tier assassin go? Shouldn't everyone be treated the same?"
"With him alive, I can avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble."
Everything was within Frank's control.
In his eyes, John wasn't a good guy either—he was still someone who wouldn't be missed if dead.
However, after studying John's profile in detail, Frank had already devised a plan to use him as a pawn.
This time, Frank's intervention was based on the estimation that John might not survive inside the Continental. So, by stirring up chaos, he helped John escape unnoticed.
And there was no denying John's abilities—they were elite across the board.
In a direct confrontation, Frank might not gain the upper hand.
"Tactical players are so dirty," Allen commented with distaste.
If he hadn't seen John Wick, he wouldn't have figured out Frank's plan.
Putting away his sniper rifle, he retreated home.
He hopped into a classic Dodge muscle car and drove out of the city under cover of night, heading straight to a cemetery on the outskirts.
In America, the rich are buried in the ground.
After all, poor people can't even afford to rent a place to live—how could they possibly buy a burial plot?
If you're barely surviving, who cares if the dead are comfortable?
"Uncle Punisher, coming to mourn your family in a cemetery in the middle of the night—you really know how to set the mood."
Allen looked around and asked, "Is the caretaker some old guy on a horse?"
He was, of course, referring to the previous generation's Ghost Rider.
He was simply curious whether this world had that character.
"I'm the caretaker."
Frank walked up to a tomb that looked like a miniature Western-style mansion and casually opened the iron gate.
In the center stood an angel statue, with a metal plaque below engraved with the occupant's information.
As Allen stared in confusion, Frank twisted a torch mounted on the wall.
Click click click…
A second later, the angel statue shifted aside, revealing an entrance to a hidden passage.
"Isn't this a bit disrespectful?" Allen said awkwardly. "You're even taking over the dead's home?"
Who would've thought that the Punisher—this infamous anti-hero—had made his base in a graveyard?
"It's a fake grave."
Frank had more enemies than he could count, and he didn't want to endanger innocent people.
Even staying in hotels could invite killers. He himself might survive, but innocent bystanders might not.
So to be safe, he'd arranged multiple safehouses for recovery and deployment.
They walked down the tunnel for over ten meters.
Frank flipped a light switch.
A wide underground base came into view.
It was a fully equipped bunker, surrounded by metal walls. Weapons were lined up neatly, and shelves were stacked with long-lasting canned goods.
"This is great. I get to experience the peace of being buried alive ahead of schedule."
Acting like he owned the place, Allen flopped onto the couch.
Frank, meanwhile, patiently disassembled his sniper rifle, then marked an "X" on a clue board.
It clearly had the words "Continental Hotel" on it.
It was obvious now—his current target was the High Table.
"Uncle Punisher, what the hell happened to your world?"
Allen asked, clearly bored. "When I first arrived, I heard a lot of people saying the superheroes had fallen."
Hearing this, Frank paused and gave Allen a strange look.
He was wondering if Allen was just pretending not to know.
This wasn't exactly breaking news—it was common knowledge around the globe.
——
In the vastness of space...
A figure who looked exactly like Superman, dressed in a similar suit, gazed toward Earth.
"You failed," said a cold, emotionless voice in the vacuum of space.
Out of thin air, a man seated on a pitch-black chair appeared.
"It's nothing unusual," Clark said calmly, as if he were stating a trivial fact.
Clark Kent—but this wasn't Earth's Superman.
He was the Supreme Superboy from the Origin Universe.
Once a staunch hero who believed in justice, he had step by step fallen from grace into villainy.
He was one of the chief culprits responsible for the deaths of numerous heroes in this universe.
And the man who appeared was even more terrifying—Mobius, the Anti-Monitor, a creator god from the Sixth Dimension.
He sat on the infamous Mobius Chair, said to grant omniscience to its occupant.
"I've got more than one plan," Clark said confidently.
"Let's hear it," Mobius replied with interest.
"Aren't you supposed to be all-knowing? Why do you need me to explain?"
"…"
Mocked by Supreme Superboy, Mobius was enraged and provoked.
Even with the Mobius Chair, he could only perceive what had already occurred—he couldn't predict the future.
Otherwise, how could he have failed in the invasion of Earth?
Squelch…
Suddenly, a scythe silently pierced through Mobius's chest.
Terrified, he turned his head—to see the emaciated, skeletal figure of the Black Death Emperor grinning cruelly at him.
Before Mobius could initiate a time-space escape, he was yanked from the chair and hoisted into the air.
"Sorry, but we need a sacrifice," Supreme Superboy said with a smirk.
The Black Death Emperor added, "We couldn't find a suitable power source for the Black Lantern… so we had to make do with you."
"I won't die. I'll get my revenge on you all," Mobius roared.
Even though he couldn't resist the Black Death Emperor's control, Mobius didn't fear. As a being from the Sixth Dimension, he could resurrect indefinitely.
As long as he made it back to the Sixth Dimension, he would unleash boundless fury on the traitors.
But reality didn't unfold the way he expected.
The Black Death Emperor sliced through the void with a finger, opening a temporary portal.
Still holding the Anti-Monitor aloft, he descended upon Sector 666.
It was a lifeless planet.
At its center stood a colossal Black Lantern power battery.
"Black Lanterns…"
The moment Mobius saw the power battery, he trembled slightly. "You're going to make me into a central battery entity?!"
"Exactly."
The Black Death Emperor made no attempt to hide it. "Only a higher-dimensional being can fuel the Black Lantern and generate an endless supply of Black Rings."
"Did you really think you could conquer Earth with just firepower?"
Supreme Superboy scoffed. "It was only to sacrifice a few heroes and recruit them into the Black Lantern Corps."
"Stop! My two brothers won't let you get away with this!" Mobius screamed in desperation.
Being imprisoned in the Black Lantern power battery, endlessly drained of energy, was a fate worse than death. It would keep him perpetually weak, with no chance of escape.
As Mobius let out a defiant roar, the Black Death Emperor casually tossed him into the battery like throwing away garbage.
The long-dormant Black Lantern flickered to life.
Moments later, a Black Ring shot out.
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