Underground, private laboratory.
With many years of study in the Land of Light, Liam built a simple laboratory in the basement using the limited resources he could buy.
This was his main place of research.
At this moment, he was making revisions to a newly completed design drawing displayed on the projection screen, preparing for the final test before running the simulation on the computer.
This was a project he had started working on a month ago.
He named it, "Mobile Ultraman."
Yes, it shared the same name as that famous spin-off anime series from the Ultraman franchise, and it was a similar concept.
Simply put, it was about creating an exoskeleton suit similar to Iron Man's from the next door Universe.
An Ultraman-shaped, life-sized armor, driven by Ultra technology, possessing strength and performance far exceeding conventional Earth technology, and even capable of carrying Spacium weapons.
The design of the blueprints and the programming of the internal procedures were basically complete.
Liam ran the simulation twice, then hesitated again on the issue of weapon materials.
There were indeed many Super Technologies on DC Earth, such as the materials Batman and Lex Luthor used to build their armor, which were certainly incredibly strong.
But those Technologies might not even exist in the current stage of DC, and Liam currently had no way to access them.
However, with a thought, he quickly came up with a way that might allow him to access top-tier materials.
Right in his own coffee shop's kitchen.
At this moment, the great Wizard Shazam was wrestling with a newly bought electric oven in the kitchen.
Perhaps he found the thing too slow or the temperature too hard to control, the Old Wizard secretly glanced around, seeing that no one seemed to be paying attention, and muttered a spell, stealthily casting an acceleration spell on the oven.
The roasted chicken immediately accelerated under the spell's influence, turning into a deep brown, charred chicken with cracked skin.
Realizing he had accelerated it too much, the Wizard's pupils contracted, and he quickly flipped his palm, adding a reversal spell.
The charred roasted chicken seemed to experience time reversal, rapidly transforming back to before it was charred.
A round, white-shelled egg?
'Damn, too far back!'
Just then, footsteps suddenly sounded from outside the kitchen door, followed by Liams voice calling out his nickname he was given: "Gandalf?"
The Old Wizard's heart skipped a beat, and in a flash of inspiration, he muttered a levitation spell, and with a flick of his finger, the poor egg was launched out of the open window.
So when Liam entered, he saw the Old Wizard staring blankly in the center of the kitchen.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
The Old Wizard coughed, calmly stroking his big beard:
"A wise Wizard must set aside some time each day to contemplate life."
"Uh, alright then. I hope I didnt bother you. I have a question."
"Hmm, go ahead," the Wizard said, stroking his big beard, maintaining his image as a master.
So Liam briefly explained his purpose and idea.
The Old Wizard pondered for a moment, stroking his big beard, and said,
"Materials, huh? Now that you mention it, there might still be a small amount of Nth Metal left in the Temple."
Liam's spirits lifted at the news. Nth metal?
That's one of the top-tier materials you can get your hands on in DC.
It's described as a metal with the "potential to overturn all physical and magical rules," possessing various extraordinary properties even without any processing.
For example, anti-gravity; people wearing N Metal can fly freely.
And it can enhance the user's strength, grant super self-healing abilities, and has top-tier resistance to magic.
The higher the purity, the stronger its power; although very rare, the purest N Metal can grant immortality and even resurrect the dead.
And this thing, while rare, isn't that rare.
It's basically everywhere in Thanagar, the homeworld of DC superhero Hawkman, similar to Vibranium for Wakanda in Marvel.
"Not much left, just a little," the Old Wizard shook his head.
"I obtained it by chance many years ago. Most of it has already been used by me, and the remaining small amount has been sitting for thousands of years, useless to me. If you want it, just take it."
Liam thanked him.
Even a little of a god-tier material like N Metal would have extraordinary effects, and very few people are wealthy enough to make weapons purely from N Metal; most of the time, it's mixed with other materials.
Just then, a commotion erupted in the coffee shop outside.
"Don't be so cold."
A young punk surrounded a table in the coffee shop, winking at a pretty girl.
Three companions stood beside him, each with an ill-intentioned smirk.
They wore casual clothes, mostly ripped jeans and short-sleeved T-shirts with patterns or letters, dirty and exuding a decadent, wild aura.
The girl clearly didn't want trouble and simply shifted her seat away from him.
"Don't be so cold, I just want to make a friend."
"Exactly, just chat and talk," his companions egged him on from the side.
"It's no fun if you don't appreciate kindness."
The young man slammed the table heavily, the silver skull hanging around his neck rattling loudly.
The girl's face turned pale with fright, and she shrank back:
"I'm sorry, but I'm really busy..."
"Oh really? Then let me help you make time."
The young man grunted, actually raising his fist as if to strike, and the girl instinctively covered her head in fear.
But his full swing... failed to land.
The young man turned his head in surprise and saw Liam, who had appeared by his side at some unknown point, smiling amiably as he gripped his wrist.
"Excuse me, customer, but violence is prohibited in our establishment."
The young man narrowed his eyes:
"You're the boss? This is none of your business. We're from the Cross Gang. If you know what's good for you, get out of the way quickly and don't interfere."
"Cross Gang?" Liam tried hard to recall.
No impression.
Mainly because Gotham has too many gangs, big and small.
He couldn't even remember all the major ones, let alone those obscure little ones.
"We operate in the Nineteenth Street area. Today, we're here to do something for our boss, Elliot... Yes, the Elliot known as 'Crazy Elliot'!"
"Oh, I see," Liam said, enlightened.
I knew it.
No wonder there were still such blind idiots daring to cause trouble in his shop at this time; it turns out they were from another district.
It was normal for outsiders not to understand the situation.
And his enlightened expression seemed to be interpreted by the young man as having heard of his boss's prestige, making him even more arrogant.
"So now let go of my hand, apologize, and you can still run your shop here just fine. I can pretend nothing ever happened..."
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
A series of four muffled thuds.
The four punks lay on their backs, noses bleeding profusely, the pain of the blows only belatedly arriving even as they hit the ground.
Too fast.
The young man, who had been arrogant just a second ago, didn't even fully grasp the situation as he lay on the cold floor.
Am I... down? How?
Confused, he then watched from the ground as the young boss casually dragged over a chair and sat down beside him.
"Now, about that... 'Crazy Elliot'?" Liam smiled,
"Elaborate."
The few punks trembled.
They vaguely began to realize that they might have stirred up a hornet's nest this time.