HISD Chapter 108 DC's Eternal God
DC Universe.
On the borderlands between Washington and Metropolis stood a vast private estate, twenty miles across, surrounded by mountains on three sides. Forests, lakes, and grasslands stretched across its grounds, and in the middle of the woodland rose a palatial mansion, built in the restrained opulence of old nobility. A winding road ran straight from its gates toward the twin cities outside the forest.
Atlanna stood at the gates of the mansion, holding the deed in her hands, staring at the newly built estate with dazed disbelief.
What was happening?
She had thought bringing Clark back to the surface would mean escaping from the abyssal domain of the Doomsday King. But against all expectations, the Doomsday King himself had led everyone out of the abyss, walking into the surface world. Atlanna's mind buzzed with confusion.
Even stranger, before she could make any arrangements, she discovered that the Doomsday King had already prepared everything. This mansion had been purchased years ago, the contracts signed under the name "Yi Meng."
How was this possible?
She realized, with a sudden chill, that even after living together in the abyssal depths for four years, she still could not fathom him. Now that the Doomsday King had returned to the surface, was he planning to conquer the entire world above?
Her face paled as she spiraled into uneasy thoughts.
…
"I want this room."
"Then I'll take this one."
Clark and Flower darted through the mansion, laughing as they picked their rooms.
Inside the master suite, Steppenwolf stood respectfully at the door, head bowed, eyes lowered in awe.
Yi Meng, in his ancient Doomsday form, stood at the window. His crimson gaze flickered as he toyed with a Mother Box, watching the scenery outside.
Four years had passed in the DC dreamscape.
From the start, Yi Meng had used his mental abilities to manipulate electronic devices, connecting himself to the surface world's networks. Though he could not reach the level of a true artificial intelligence, even this limited projection of his power was an overwhelming advantage against DC Earth's 1980s technology.
It wasn't long before he used the networks to amass a fortune, siphoning wealth from powerful capitalists. Under his true name, "Yi Meng," he invested, multiplied his capital many times over, and built an empire of industries—real estate in Washington, Metropolis, even Gotham, as well as ventures in technology, extraterrestrial research, biotechnology, chemical engineering, museums, and hospitals.
What began as a plan to harvest DC's technology and hunt for traces of the Old Gods had inadvertently made Yi Meng a wealthy magnate, a household name in the human world. None would suspect that this discreet global tycoon was in fact the dreaded alien monster—the ancient Doomsday.
His scarlet eyes glowed with quiet amusement.
After four years, his rational mind could now maintain itself for up to three months within the DC dreamscape. He was becoming more human in thought, though his body remained unchanged—over two meters tall, covered in bone spurs.
Perhaps a true metamorphosis was still required for him to ascend fully into Doomsday Superman.
Yi Meng's thoughts stirred. Red static energy bled from his brow, silently sinking into the computer on the desk. With ease, he linked into his own network, accessing data from his many enterprises.
Recently, an artifact in one of his museums—a crystalline relic suspected to be tied to the Old Gods—had drawn his attention. Now that he was on the surface, it was time to investigate personally. If he could trace it to the Old Gods hidden on Earth, all the better.
And besides, this mansion was still too quiet. He would need some stress-relief targets—no, servants and slaves. Pets would do as well.
Yi Meng's grin grew sharper. At the doorway, Steppenwolf trembled violently.
…
Washington. The National Museum of Natural History.
"Diana."
A familiar voice, aged and warm, called out.
The tall woman halted, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. Dark curls framed her beautiful face; she wore a stylish coat over a lithe figure that radiated strength and grace. She turned back in surprise to see the white-haired director of the museum in his suit.
"Director? What brings you here?"
"Relax, this isn't a work inspection," the old man chuckled. "Barbara mentioned you'll be attending tonight's gala?"
"Yes." Diana nodded slightly. "I don't usually enjoy such gatherings, but Barbara insisted tonight's event was special."
"Galas are always important," the director said with a smile. "They keep us afloat—donations and investments from the wealthy and influential are what allow our museum to thrive."
But then his voice grew more solemn, tinged with reverence. "Tonight, however, is different. We may have a very, very important guest."
"A guest?" Diana frowned. Could it be someone even more significant than the oil tycoon and television celebrity Barbara mentioned?
"That's right." The director's lips curved mysteriously. He teased, "So wear something beautiful. You're not getting any younger."
"…Of course." Diana's smile was tinged with helplessness. Outwardly, she seemed past thirty, yet she was an ageless demigoddess. Before long, she would need to assume yet another false identity.
"Oh, and that artifact from Rome you've been studying—the crystal?" the director asked suddenly.
"Yes. Why?" Diana's brow furrowed. She had already sensed something wrong from that crystal—something that carried the aura of the Old Gods.
"Nothing, nothing. Carry on. I'll see you at the gala." He left, humming cheerfully.
Diana's instincts told her otherwise. Something was wrong.
…
The director's outward cheer masked his excitement. Tonight, the museum's greatest benefactor—the legendary, reclusive investor—had requested the crystal be placed in his office for private retrieval.
Though the man refused to attend in person, his shadow alone was enough to elevate the museum forever.
…
That evening, the gala filled the main hall of the museum. Men in tailored suits and women in elegant gowns mingled under golden light, the air alive with soft music and clinking glasses.
Meanwhile, the director carried the Roman crystal, carefully placing it into a case on his desk upstairs. He sighed wistfully.
"So, I won't get to meet the legend after all."
He closed the office door behind him.
Moments later, the window burst open with a rush of wind. A towering figure of bone and spurs slipped inside.
Yi Meng, the ancient Doomsday, ignored the revelry below as he strode forward, seizing the crystal case in his massive hand.
At that very moment, Diana ascended the grand staircase, her long white gown slit high to reveal legs like sculpted bronze, gleaming with strength. Her gaze locked on the office door above, her expression grave.
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