Gotham's night sky was eternally deep and dark.
Batman was the city's unchanging flower language. Ian, on the other end of the phone, listened to the howls of Gotham's freaks and couldn't help but frown, speaking softly to Batman.
"Is this what passes for quality father-son time in Gotham... You Gothamites are truly strange." His exceptional hearing had detected the strangeness contained within the messy background noise on the other end of the line.
This might also be related to the excellent sound reproduction quality of the phone Batman had given him.
"Hmm?" Batman did not stop hitting, but his voice still came through the phone. "Does the help you've received allow you to monitor my location through the phone's direction?"
What a suspicious Gotham freak.
Ian heard the sound of Batman dismantling the phone to check it.
"I'm purely relying on my super hearing to distinguish it. Even without hitting people often, I can tell the difference between being hit by two hands and being hit by four hands."
Ian believed that Batman wouldn't suddenly grow four hands overnight. After all, Batman wasn't a Pokémon, he wouldn't evolve into a Gotham power freak just by drinking a couple of sips of Gotham's toxic water.
"..."
There was no response from the other end of the phone, only more intense fighting sounds. Ian could even imagine Batman striking ruthlessly, while the child beside him imitated the actions.
The most authentic Gotham mobsters, perhaps, had to be nurtured from childhood.
"There aren't many people who can provide you with help. I'll find out who it is." Batman seemed tired of fighting, taking a break, and holding the phone to make a "guarantee" to Ian in his low voice.
"I don't think you will."
Ian was very honest.
But Batman always disliked his honesty.
"We'll see about that."
After Batman spoke with conviction, he immediately hung up the phone with Ian—only to find that it wouldn't disconnect. He once again sank into a gasping silence.
People who use too much technology often breathe like this.
Ian was not surprised.
And Batman seemed to only be able to vent his anger on the villain who thought the "game" was over.
We still do not know who this unfortunate villain is.
"Liar, all liars! It clearly doesn't rain cherry blossoms when you get angry!"
"The Joker misled me!"
...
Before Batman could take out the battery and smash the phone, Ian could only hear the unnamed villain weeping to Batman in a voice that sounded like a broken dream.
I see.
"I was wondering why Gothamites don't make a sound when they get beaten. It turns out the crying is only because their dreams are shattered." Ian realized this suddenly, once again reaffirming his stereotype of Gotham.
"They're clearly iris petals. Clearly, you haven't read my book seriously. Such a fan is an inferior fan." Ian carefully placed the magical black box given to him by the new Tony-sensei.
The moonlight outside the window shone through the curtain gap.
Drawing a silver line on the floor.
He stared at the light for a while, not continuing to work on his manuscript. After all, having gained the ability, he naturally became lax, just like how some online writers disappear for a day or two after getting paid.
Of course.
Ian was not such a low-class author.
But a slight bit of laziness was a professional destiny he could not escape.
"Speaking of professions, I remember I should have a new one unlocked." Ian squeezed the alcohol bottle, dispensing some disinfectant to wipe his hands and face.
This was to prevent bad luck and encountering a scam of a transfer condition.
From today onwards.
He was going to place a little trust in the occult. Of course, he also believed in science, so there was no bathing or changing clothes involved. Wiping his entire body with alcohol was much cleaner than bathing and changing clothes.
After doing all this.
Ian then set a fire... well, no, he just opened his personal panel and switched to the profession selection interface.
[New Profession Unlocked]
[Current Selectable Professions: 1]
[Entropy Overlord: When the cloak lifts the space-time folds, the scepter shatters the dimensional barrier, the entire world will become a footnote to his power in the elegy of entropy.]
The sole unlockable icon kept flashing. The name [Entropy Overlord] was very conspicuous, and the professional description provided by the system always looked so passionate.
"Actually, this kind of description is not as good as setting a grand goal, which is to make Galactus a bootleg Ian." Ian tried to persuade his system to change the professional description.
That way.
When the time came for Superman to be called a bootleg Ian.
He could pin all the blame on the system.
The plan was excellent.
But the system did not fall for it.
It maintained its usual cold and aloof attitude, offering no response to any of Ian's words.
"Boring."
Ian sighed, selecting the [Entropy Overlord] option and binding the profession. Like the [Savage Tyrant] profession, it did not set any third profession entry barrier for Ian.
All it did was immediately trigger the transfer mission. As Ian confirmed, lines of text instantly appeared, strikingly clear in the vision only he could see.
[Transfer Condition: Maintain a state of starvation for 48 hours, then consume any planetary metal ore.]
This transfer condition seemed a bit harsh, and in fact, it was very harsh. Metal ore was fine, after all, Earth was one of the planets.
However, the forty-eight hours of starvation was definitely the most tedious transfer mission Ian had ever encountered. He could already sense the deep malice coming from the planetary starver.
"I've seen the bad news, now for the good news..." Ian looked at the countdown in the lower-left corner of his field of vision. The countdown was clearly the good news.
The law of conservation of luck was correct, as always.
The time he spent in the Marvel Universe was also being counted toward this starvation countdown. Of course, even so, the perpetually gluttonous Ian felt that this ordeal was definitely the greatest challenge he had ever faced in his life.
"You're practically trying to starve Sir Ian to death." Ian would occasionally try to talk to the system, not because he was lonely, but because he was always dedicated to PUAing his system.
And.
He also had many guesses about this system in his mind.
"You must be the Pangu car machine installed in the Great Destiny Celestial Venerable that crashed into me!" The attempt at probing received no response. Ian, who was planning to go to the kitchen for a snack, could only lie back down on the bed.
"Abyssal Bucket, it's your turn to make a guest appearance as the Abyssal Speaker..." Ian couldn't sleep, so he asked the demon head to sing him a lullaby. The wretched voice of the demon head was even worse than his own.
"Ah~ ah~ ah~"
The demon head sang with passion.
"Sleep, baby~ My dear~ Little sacrifice~~~"
It began to howl with a voice comparable to rusty door hinges.
"Damn it! I asked for a lullaby!" Ian didn't dare to use his socks to stuff the demon head's mouth, as the demon head, having awakened some strange attributes, might think it was a reward.
"Lullabies in Hell sound like this."
After hearing Ian's scolding, the demon head's wrinkled cow face was utterly filled with grievance. It was hard to imagine that this bovine grew up listening to such things.
"Shut up, shut up."
Ian dared not listen anymore.
Just then.
"Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop~"
Outside the window.
The Hellcat's car music suddenly played, a classic American traditional lullaby, "Rock-a-Bye Baby." It had probably been eavesdropping on the movements in Ian's room the whole time.
The sound quality was excellent.
Comparable to a vinyl record.
The rivalry for attention between demons was so simple and unadorned.
"That's more like it."
Ian didn't blame the Hellcat for eavesdropping. He had a lot of empathy and knew how difficult it was for an eager lickspittle to try to improve themselves. He had never been a lickspittle, but he had several at school.
At least the Hellcat wasn't trying to sleep with him, so he was very willing to empathize.
"Great God Ian, I have felt your divine power. It will surely grant me perfect singing ability." The demon head was clearly unwilling to have the attention stolen.
He wanted a second chance.
And Ian's grace.
"Is that so?"
Ian still couldn't sleep, tossing and turning. He couldn't help but wonder if Tony-sensei was truly a thing of the past. Would there really be no more man who shouted that he was Iron Man?
They hadn't known each other for long.
It was impossible to say there was a lot of emotion.
It was simply because this wasn't the Marvel Universe Ian hoped to see.
Thus.
The boy was a little irritated.
"I sense it... your magical power that belongs to a demon god... Although not much of it is emanating, this must be you testing my ability to observe details." The demon head opened its murky eyes. It thought they held sagacity. Its voice was hoarse and reverent.
"Magic power?"
Ian thought of Tony saying he would become the [Source] of an emerging power. He sprang up from the bed with a carp-flip, instantly energized.
"So, what does it feel like to possess magic power?"
Since returning to DC, Ian had noticed changes in himself, but he couldn't pinpoint what they were. It was just a cool sensation, like his head was filled with water.
"Uh, the feeling of possessing magic power?" The demon head was silent for a moment, seemingly racking its brain to explain a trans-dimensional experience to a human.
Finally, it gave a dry answer.
"Roughly... when you have enough magic power, you're full. When you lack it, you're hungry?"
The minotaur demon's words were utterly useless.
"I really should get you a horse's mouth." Ian turned over and got out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor. He went to the desk and turned on his lamp again.
The warm yellow glow carved out a small domain in the darkness.
"If I remember correctly, this book is said to be able to create things that don't exist?" Ian remembered the words of the Prince of Hell before he became a "Spicy Prince" snack.
He pulled Ian's Genesis Divine Book from behind his butt—the cover was still the same chaotic design, but a tiny bit of golden light had been added.
"A greater source?"
Ian picked up a pen to draw. However, as soon as the tip touched the paper, the ink quickly dissipated, as if erased by some invisible force. Ian frowned and tried again.
The result was the same.
At this moment.
Perhaps sensing Ian's dissatisfaction, a line of bold text suddenly appeared on the page:
Ian's Misused Genesis Divine Book
The self-aware book intentionally enlarged the font, afraid that Ian wouldn't see it and would chew it up in anger. That was a distinct possibility, at least in the book's opinion.
"Heh? I'm misusing it? It's your look that's mistaken!" Ian said, then saw the title Ian's Misused Genesis Divine Book change again to Ian's Self-Reflecting Book.
I must say.
It was the quickest to admit defeat.
It didn't even try to talk back once.
"..."
Ian felt no sense of accomplishment.
"You deserve to sit at the same table as this head."
He slammed the book shut and stuffed it into the cabinet where the demon head was. "If you dare to give birth to a litter of demon babies, I promise very, very bad things will happen."
This was a preventative measure.
After all, humans still did not know how demons reproduced.
"?????"
Under the gaze of the demon head and the book, which had grown a small, round eye, Ian walked back to the bed. He climbed in, and barely two seconds later, he threw off the blanket and rushed back to the desk.
He didn't touch the broken book.
He just pulled out a regular sheet of drawing paper, spread it out, and flattened it.
"Don't know until I try." The pen spun between his fingers. Ian stared at the blank paper, was silent for a moment, and then began to draw.
Stroke by stroke.
The tip of the pen lightly touched the paper.
The first line descended, seemingly awakening a long-dormant memory.
"At least, I did my best."
Ian constantly adjusted the pens of different colors. The outline of a red and gold armor gradually emerged. The blue light of the arc reactor bled across the paper. The lamplight reflected on the drawing paper, coating the lines of man and steel in a soft, warm hue, as if it would leap off the paper in the next second.
[You are engaging in creation, Writer EXP +1]
[You are engaging in creation, Writer EXP +1]
[You are engaging in creation, Writer EXP +1]
...
This was the story of Iron Man.
The night outside the window was deep. Occasionally, the wind blew through the treetops, rustling. Ian did not stop drawing, as if the lines and shadows could find their own way to extend.
Holding the pen to draw the world.
Every stroke was a memory.
Every line was a unique connection.
The boy did not sleep all night.
Outside the window, the first ray of morning light penetrated the clouds, falling directly onto the drawings. In the interplay of light and shadow, Ian's Writer profession welcomed another upgrade at this moment.
[Writer LV3 (1/40)]
"No one knows how hard it is for me to suppress my shocking talent... Don't disappoint me too much." Ian put down his pen and finished his work. He checked the time and then grabbed a hard drive from the table.
This was what he had brought back from the Marvel world.
The new Tony-sensei's knowledge reserve was inferior to the original Tony-sensei's. The technology he provided was almost entirely military-grade. Stark Industries without Tony Stark was a complete military-industrial complex.
Before the time was right.
Ian didn't think he had the conditions to manufacture military supplies.
It wasn't that he lacked the relevant background, but he was sure that if he tried to open a company now to manufacture weapons of mass destruction, his father would definitely show him what true weapons of mass destruction were.
That's how it was before he was an adult.
What would he want to build after he was an adult?
"The Invincible Ian Super Ultra Thunder Missile will only have the opportunity to be brought out to illuminate the faces of the world after I convince Jonathan to be the legal representative of my company."
Ian knew exactly where to store such precious items.
"Knock knock knock~"
He knocked on his parents' bedroom door. After getting a response, he opened the door, walked straight in under their gaze, and immediately crawled under their bed.
"Ian, what are you doing? Did you forget to say good morning?" Lois's head hung down from the bed. Her long hair dragged on the floor, looking messy.
She stared at Ian from under the bed like a ghost.
"No, don't you know how tiring it is to lay a floor?" The second head to peer down belonged to Clark. His expression was just as bewildered as Lois's.
The two watched as Ian pried open the floorboards and stuffed a black hard drive inside. Then, the prepared boy began to repair the floor under the bed.
"I hope that's not a bomb."
Lois fumbled on the bedside table, unable to find the "reasonable juice."
"I just stored some knowledge inside."
Ian replied honestly. His "floor-laying" work was very quick. He even put on a special seal, to prevent Clark from checking it after he left.
[Whoever peeks will step on Kryptonite and pig manure every day.] This was just a declaration. At least, the parents in this family usually respected a child's emphasized privacy.
"..."
"..."
Clark and Lois turned their heads simultaneously, staring at each other upside down. After a moment of what seemed like eye-to-eye communication, Clark spoke on Lois's behalf.
"Is the knowledge you're talking about the kind of knowledge we all understand, or the kind of knowledge Jonathan 'passed down' to you?" Clark spoke carefully, using extremely veiled language.
"It's probably the kind of knowledge that can create a radioactive world, where everyone can be as radioactive as the East Sea and live as long as an Epiphyllum flower." Ian crawled out from under the bed with a wiggle.
His American idiom was not standard.
So neither of the two highly educated adults could figure it out.
"What is he talking about?"
"If you can use your super speed to get me a bottle of wine, I'm sure I can understand." Lois and Clark watched as Ian stood up and quickly scurried out of the room.
"Batman couldn't even steal my hard drive." Ian firmly believed this because his dad's private money was also hidden in the corner of the room, so Clark was certainly listening in twenty-four hours a day.
This was the safest place in the world.
Everyone in the Kent family was good at finding their own Fortress of Solitude. Not just the youngest son. As soon as Ian left his parents' room, he heard the sound of his second brother, Jordan, renovating his room.
The foolish Brother actually thought that soundproofing his whole room with cotton could defeat Superman's super hearing—what was this called? This was called being uneducated. This is what happens when you don't study physics well.
The advertisement said it could keep Superman out, and Jordan actually believed it.
"They only get away with it because the superheroes don't dare to sue them." Ian lamented the cunning of the capitalists. He hadn't even walked back to his room when he found his father standing in front of him.
"Why didn't my super-vision kick in..."
Ian truly didn't react at all. He felt that Clark's speed was even faster than before, which was completely unscientific. Even from a metaphysical standpoint, he felt it didn't make sense.
"What's wrong with your eyes?"
Clark had noticed Ian's abnormality a long time ago. Lois had said Ian was playing with colored contact lenses, but only he could see clearly that there were no foreign objects in Ian's eyes.
Those brilliant golden pupils were Ian's own eyes.
"I've awakened again."
Ian began to speak today's share of truth.
Hearing this.
Clark immediately became alert.
"What has awakened?" Not only his expression changed, but his whole demeanor changed—the poor old man had just gone to sleep less than two hours ago.
He didn't want to cause any more misunderstandings.
He didn't even need to turn his head.
Clark could already sense Lois leaning against the door frame.
The father glared fiercely at Ian.
It was truly fierce.
The kind of squinting that could get you admitted to Arkham for two days.
"What I've awakened is my potential as a Super Saiyan. Do you know what a Super Saiyan is? If you don't, I'll take the time to draw it for you tomorrow. As warriors who maintain universal peace, the Saiyans of the M78 Nebula often project their bloodline onto highly qualified Earthlings for various reasons."
"Of course, accepting this bloodline means that in the future, I will also have to deal with various small monsters invading Earth." Ian received the implied signal from his father, which was strong enough to be received by Pluto.
"Is that so?"
Lois was stunned by Ian's matter-of-fact tone.
"Of course, it is!"
Clark's voice was firm and powerful. He didn't care about Saiyans or not-Saiyans. As long as it wasn't a Kryptonian, it was cause for celebration. Not understanding didn't mean he wouldn't firmly support Ian's side.
"Just fighting monsters, not turning into a monster. That doesn't sound too worrying." Lois stared at Ian's golden eyes but didn't detect any bad signs.
"Mhm. My mutation is very environmentally friendly. If you don't believe me, I can go downstairs and boil some water for you."
Ian nodded. He was very considerate. He became a Super Saiyan, his dad was relieved, and his mom was happy. Everyone had a bright future.
The whole family wins together.
"Never mind, let me boil the water. You two get yourselves together. Don't wander around in your pajamas." Lois slipped into a bathrobe and dashed downstairs.
Ian didn't know if the refrigerator door opened.
But both he and Clark heard the sound of the liquor cabinet door opening.
"Oh, I understand now."
Lois seemed to have finally fully grasped Ian's statement.
It was very reasonable.
After all, the Rationality-woman was now holding her faithful alcohol.
...
Breakfast was oatmeal and bacon sandwiches.
Good or not, Ian couldn't eat it.
"I can still evolve, but I need to starve for a while..." Ian spoke so much truth this morning, which was very rare. He painfully refused the sandwich his mother offered him.
"Why hasn't Miss Death come to look for me yet?"
Ian looked around, unable to find a target to feed. He was a little helpless and looked in the direction of the second floor. "Jordan isn't eating breakfast because he's testing his room's soundproofing system."
"What about Jonathan?" Ian couldn't find his older brother and was slightly confused. By convention, his eldest brother, Jonathan, should have been up by now, mixing his protein powder.
"He left at six this morning, saying he was going to the church to look around." Clark knew his son's movements like the back of his hand, and after a moment of silence, he added.
"He is indeed at the church right now."
This was clearly a confirmation using his own abilities. Ian genuinely pitied his second brother, but Jordan was also lucky. At least he didn't know yet how abnormal his father's hearing was.
"Both of us need to work overtime today. You better not run off again and bring back weird things." Clark earnestly instructed.
"Mhm."
Ian nodded.
He didn't contradict his father's idea.
However.
"Hey! How can you call Ian's car a weird thing? She's way too cool!" Lois immediately pushed Clark's shoulder while arguing.
Clark conveniently slumped onto the table, offering Lois emotional value.
"Beep beep~"
The sound of the Hellcat's horn rang outside.
"It's going to rain tonight, so you should make time to come back and build a room for Ian's car in the yard. Don't let that ruthless rain wet my son's beloved little car."
Lois, having had a drink, was quite assertive.
"Mhm."
Clark nodded while lying on the table.
"Thank you, Dad."
Ian quickly expressed his gratitude.
"It's nothing. Just a carport. It's easy to put up."
Clark tried to change the subject.
"It's a room! She's a member of our family now, isn't she? She's also a girl. She told me herself last night... through her car radio."
Lois corrected Clark's statement.
"I knew my car was a female cat! I felt it on the first day!" Ian was very happy. He once again proved that he did possess superior discernment.
"Alright, a room. I understand."
Clark reluctantly nodded.
"So, can I take you to work now? We're going to be late." He checked the time, then picked up Lois, who was still holding a glass of red wine, and disappeared from the room.
Ian, who considered himself incredibly powerful, didn't even notice the door opening and closing.
"..."
After a moment of silence.
"They must have used the window."
Ian could only console himself that way. What else could he do? He thought he was closing the gap with his father, but somehow, he had the illusion that the gap was widening.
"Clang~"
God definitely had it in for Ian.
Why else would Ian hear something hit the window right after he mentioned the window? Whenever a coincidence happened in the world, blaming God was always a safe bet.
"I wonder what Jonathan is doing at the church. Dating a Catholic girl?" Ian secretly speculated while walking toward the source of the noise.
He saw.
The window was closed, and a tiny spiderweb of cracks had appeared on the glass. In the center of the crack, a dark fly was stuck, its six legs twitching incessantly.
"This head is almost the size of my pinky finger. What did it eat to get so fat?" Ian carefully pinched the fly's back and pulled it out of the glass crack.
"A Fly Clan cultivator used all his strength to strike at the upper realm, only to be brutally murdered by an immortal." Ian looked at the fly in his hand. The fly was still alive and didn't seem to be dying.
The creature even struggled a couple of times on his fingertip.
Its wings buzzed loudly.
The strength felt somewhat like that of a naturally gifted Fly Clan genius.
"Hmph, it's quite strong?" Ian raised an eyebrow, a little surprised. He carefully examined the jet-black fly in his hand, feeling that it was different from a normal fly—its outer shell had a strange metallic sheen in the sunlight, and its compound eyes were much more crimson than usual.
"This is when I need to consult a professional." Ian remembered that the appearance of demons was always associated with flies, so he believed there must be a very special bond between the two.
He clomped up the stairs.
Ian pulled the demon head out of the cabinet.
"Taste this for me. What's going on? Is there a demon attached to it?" Ian made a reasonable guess, but things didn't seem to go as he imagined.
Before the demon head could react, Ian shoved a live fly into its mouth. It instinctively chewed a couple of times, then its murky pupils suddenly contracted.
"Ugh—!"
It let out a muffled groan that was somewhere between pain and pleasure, then swallowed. After a long moment, it spoke, its voice filled with shock: "It's truly strong. This is definitely not an ordinary fly."
The minotaur demon was stating the obvious again.
"No demon flavor?"
Ian pressed.
"No." The demon head answered honestly. It savored the taste, its expression growing more amazed. It even felt a slight increase in its power.
It was the feeling of having digested a soul.
"It must be a Kryptonian fly."
The demon's tone was exceptionally certain.
"I have a relative who ate a Kryptonian's soul. My relative described the taste as exactly like this." It did sound somewhat authoritative, but perhaps not entirely so.
It sounded somewhat similar to "I heard it from a friend."
"Are you saying that this fly is a super fly that grew up gradually by eating my dad's super poop and drinking my dad's super iced tea?"
Ian frowned, his expression incredulous.
The air suddenly went silent.
"..."
The minotaur demon was very quiet.
A few seconds later, it spoke cautiously.
"Great God Ian, I don't think that's the case. The reasonable guess is that it escaped from a lab and is a mutated fly."
"Perhaps your scientists, who are crazier than demons, used Kryptonian blood to cultivate this type of fly. As for the soul that should not belong to it, that was generated during the process."
The demon head offered a cautious analysis.
"Blood is also a bodily fluid."
Ian stroked his chin and thought for a moment. He felt that what this guy meant was roughly the same as what he was expressing. For this kind of plagiarism of ideas, he immediately gave the demon head a slam dunk to the forehead.
The demon head dared not cry, but didn't dare speak.
It had no idea what it had said wrong.
Indeed.
Serving a ruler is like living with a tiger.
The more anxious the demon felt, the more it believed in the unpredictable heart of the true Lord of Hell. Thinking this, the demon head watched Ian run out of the room again, searching everywhere in the house.
"Are there any other flies?"
Ian wanted to find a second mutated fly.
Especially the bathroom.
It was completely ransacked by Ian. However, after busy searching for a long time, even outside, he couldn't find a second fly in the house.
He searched outside as well.
Not only were there no mutated flies.
He couldn't even find any suspicious vehicles.
"Can you spit it out? I think there must be some evil person behind it." Ian returned to the room somewhat helplessly. He picked up the demon head and softened his tone.
However.
This only made the demon head tremble more.
"Great God Ian..."
It was on the verge of tears.
"Do you really think I'm that powerful?"
The demon head's voice was filled with fear and apprehension.
It was afraid this was a new way Ian was tormenting it, but it clearly underestimated Ian's personal quality. Ian was not being unreasonable. He just sighed and scratched his head.
"I still have too little experience. When encountering such a strange thing, I should have let my Uncle Batman taste it first." Ian was genuinely reflecting on his handling of the situation.
The minotaur demon didn't dare to respond, only wanting to change the topic.
"Can you make your second brother stop?" It sighed heavily. Clearly, the soundproofing cotton set Jordan had bought, from an unknown source, couldn't block the sound from its ears.
"Newly awakened, unlocking new features. That's how it is." Ian understood his second brother. He knew that his brother truly had a mental disorder of exhibiting suppressed emotions alongside social anxiety.
Jordan had even started seeing a psychologist earlier than he had. However, Jordan had been pretending he hadn't seen a psychologist, and Ian knew why his medicine could be sold at school.
"Sigh."
The demon head sighed again.
"But it's been three hours."
It mainly felt terrified by the sound. After all, Ian only hit and tormented it, but the little freak in the other room had much more terrifying intentions for it.
"Have you read the comic I drew last night? Captain America can fight Iron Man all day. Of course, my second brother can also fight himself all day after he awakened."
"We have to give him time to adapt."
Ian didn't continue to pay attention to the minotaur, who wanted to speak but couldn't. He quietly put on his headphones and then pulled out another demon from the cabinet, which had turned back into Ian's Genesis Divine Book.
"Finished reflecting? Time to evolve." Ian still needed to starve, and since he was just lying around, he might as well rationally study the resources he had.
After a brief exercise of his cognitive ability.
Ian immediately realized that language was not the product that carried thought—the brain was. So, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead firmly against Ian's Genesis Divine Book.
It was definitely not a lucky guess.
Pure intellect was at work.
He saw.
Golden light seeped out from the seams of the pages, like countless tiny light snakes crawling across the paper. Ian's consciousness began to merge with this collectible from the Demon King.
...
Meanwhile.
Kamar-Taj, Marvel Universe.
Doctor Strange sat cross-legged at a low table in the library. The magic tomes spread out before him emitted a faint scent of parchment. He was meditating with his eyes closed when a strange surge of magic suddenly made him open his eyes wide.
"What is this...?"
His gaze fixed on Ian's Magic Book on the corner of the table—it was glowing. The golden light flickered like breathing, and the pages turned by themselves, rustling, as if calling to him.
"Magic is being born..."
Doctor Strange frowned. He cautiously reached out and picked up the book. As soon as his fingertip touched it, the light on the pages intensified, and a wave of unfamiliar magic instantly surged into his body through his fingertip!
"Oh no!"
He instinctively tried to pull his hand away but found he was immobilized—some kind of invisible contract was rapidly forming. The magic flowed through his body, eventually branding his soul with a mark.
"This... Is this the connection with the Dimensional Lord that guy mentioned?!"
Doctor Strange's face changed drastically. He tried to cut off the magic link, but the contract was complete, binding his soul tightly like an invisible net.
"Damn it!"
Doctor Strange was terrified. He had never encountered such a situation—as the Sorcerer Supreme, he was always the one who controlled magic, not the one controlled by it.
The Ancient One was lying again!
"I have to save myself, no, I can't save myself now. But maybe this isn't a bad thing. After all, that guy said that this is how sorcerers used to cultivate magic."
Doctor Strange forced himself to calm down and carefully examine the contents of the contract. Upon reading it, the thirty-something-year-old man just wanted to cry hysterically.
He froze as if struck by lightning.
"What does it mean that if I attempt to violate the contract, I must forcibly surrender half of my magic power?! And thirty percent of the magic power I usually cultivate and accumulate needs to be given as tribute?"
"What the hell! The contract calls this magic income tax?!" Doctor Strange's pupils contracted violently, and his fingers trembled slightly. The contemporary Sorcerer Supreme was experiencing true malevolence for the first time.
The risk of dealing with a Dimensional Lord was now known to the world for the first time.
"The price is this high?!" Doctor Strange was completely flustered, frantically flipping through the pages. "What about the benefits? Didn't he say I could borrow power and receive gifts of magic?!"
The pages rustled.
On the blank pages.
Golden text slowly emerged.
Sure enough, a unique magical power from the Dimensional Lord was being displayed.
"This..."
Doctor Strange stared intently at the pages.
His brain short-circuited.
"Evil! It truly is evil!" Doctor Strange actually cried, truly wept hysterically. His face was as pale as an innocent sheet of paper.
There was magic.
But did he dare to learn it?
"No! Is this magic meant for humans to learn?"
Doctor Strange's mind completely fractured. He felt he had been deeply tricked. Everything was a trap. How could there be such magic in this world?
Look!
Look at the record in this magic book! The first spell the Dimensional Lord recorded in the book was actually an attempt to teach others how to turn their appendix into a storage pouch!
Dimensional Lord.
Is its mind truly sound?
Or does every non-human creature think that using the appendix as a storage pouch is cool and fashionable?
...
The night wind in New York carried a cool dampness, whistling through the high-rise buildings in a low moan. Gwen Stacy sat on the window ledge of her apartment, her legs dangling. Below her was the city hundreds of meters up, brightly lit, spreading out like a fallen galaxy of stars.
She didn't look down. She just sat quietly, her fingers lightly tapping the window frame, the rhythm scattered, like some kind of unconscious habit.
The night wind brushed through the girl's golden hair, her strands shimmering silver in the moonlight.
"Ian... Tony... Spider-Man..." She whispered the names, her voice so soft it was almost lost to the wind. Her mind was still a mess of fragmented memories.
"Is this it?"
Muttering softly.
She reached behind her back.
"Whoosh!"
A thin web line shot out from her wrist, accurately sticking to the closet door in the corner of the room. However, the open closet door did not contain what should have been there in her fragmented memory.
"What's wrong with me?"
Gwen covered her wrist.
She felt confused.
"Why is the name Spider-Man so familiar to me, and that boy?" She stood up on the balcony, without the slightest fear of the height beneath her.
"Hoo..."
Gwen took a deep breath. She lightly pushed off with her toes, performing an action she had done many times in this city—aimlessly wandering, relying on the ability that came from who knew where.
Like most people with special abilities. When Ian took her "flying" this morning, the girl's lack of height fear was, of course, because she was already used to high altitudes.
Falling.
Her body instantly detached from the windowsill, and gravity violently pulled her toward the ground. The wind roared past her ears, but her eyes were exceptionally calm. Midway through the descent, Gwen abruptly swung her wrist. A web line shot out, sticking to the exterior wall of a distant skyscraper. Her body suddenly came to a halt, and she swung out, propelled by inertia.
"Perhaps I should really do something for this city."
Gwen was like a flash of black and white lightning.
Slashing through the night sky of New York.
...
In an old apartment building in Queens.
Peter Parker slammed the door shut, isolating the external noise. His breathing was heavy, and his fingers clenched unconsciously, his nails digging deep into his palm.
"Damn it! Someone actually dared to mock me!"
His voice was deep and hoarse, like the growl of a wild beast. Without turning on the lights, Peter Parker walked straight into the bathroom, punching the mirror above the sink with a "bang."
"Crack—!"
The glass instantly shattered. Spiderweb-like cracks spread from the point of impact. Blood trickled down his knuckles, but he felt no pain.
The boy slowly looked up, staring at his fractured self in the mirror—
Crimson eyes flickered in the darkness. His mouth twisted, as if something sharp was trying to pierce through his skin and emerge from his lips. A sharp pain came from his mouth. The stinging sensation made the boy double over, his hands gripping the edge of the sink tightly.
"Ugh—!"
It was incredibly painful.
"What... is this?" Peter's voice trembled. He reached out to touch his face, his fingertips clearly feeling a strange squirming beneath his skin.
It was.
Fangs.
...
Evil may not have been born at the dawn of the world.
But it will always be nurtured.
Of course.
Justice is the same.
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666