In the DC Universe.
There is no fixed number for the Archangels.
One belief suggests there are seven Archangels, representing Monday through Sunday, and these Archangels are also regarded as the Angels of the Seven Planets.
However, this idea lacks strong proof, and the truth might be a secret unknown to many ordinary angels. The angels only know that the four most active Archangels in Heaven are led by Michael.
They are the four Creator Archangels. As beings second only to God in Heaven, Michael is acknowledged by most angels as the greatest being under God.
His name means "He Who Is Like God."
The God here is naturally the Supreme Lord. Because of this noble status, Michael has always held a unique position in Heaven, especially after he led the angels to defeat the rebellious Lucifer.
Other Archangels are naturally subservient to Michael and are much weaker in terms of power. Not only Michael himself, but no angel had ever anticipated that Michael would have a day when he lost his power.
"No! Impossible! There must be some mistake! Father! Father!" Michael ignored Madison's promotional pitch. He cried out to the sky repeatedly in a hoarse voice.
His face was filled with disbelief, unable to accept that he had lost his power. After all, as an Archangel, the fundamental difference between him and other angels, like Lucifer, was that they were both true children of God.
To be suddenly abandoned by his Father.
Even after living for countless years, Michael found it hard to accept—which was normal, considering Ian's description that every Archangel was essentially a Heavenly Adult Baby.
A Heavenly Adult Baby naturally cannot accept the loss of his father's love. Amidst the ruins, the Gate of Heaven was lodged crookedly in the rubble. No matter how Michael called out to God, it remained immovable.
The exquisite carvings on it were still faded and patchy, just like all the angels. A sign personally written by Ian hung on the door frame: [No Entry Without a Ticket].
It seemed to have merged with the Gate of Heaven. Michael tried to tear it down, but his current strength, which was only slightly stronger than an ordinary human's, felt so feeble.
Feeling his weakness.
And the fading glory.
The Creator Archangel slumped down in front of the Gate of Heaven.
"The team leader not only gets three extra spins on Ian's Great Gratitude Wheel every month but also receives the wonderful benefit of a half-hour paid vacation every day for outstanding performance."
Madison continued her introduction. She hopped onto the Gate of Heaven, swinging her long, slender legs, holding a stack of color-printed flyers, enthusiastically promoting the company's benefits to Michael.
Her words were infectious.
Another bigger gasp of excitement rose.
A few younger angels were already counting on their fingers just how many benefits there were to being a team leader.
"Dear angel friends! You too have a chance to become a team leader if you work hard." Hearing this, Madison turned back to continue psychologically manipulating the angels.
No one is better at emotional manipulation than a green tea girl.
Her voice was clear and pleasant, carrying a hint of sincerity. "Ian's Greatest Technology Group's Heavenly Business Division is that open-minded! I am your Human Resources Manager, 'Unpopular Witch' Madison."
This was Ian's encouragement to Madison. He gave Madison a resounding hero title and told her that she could change it to 'Popular Witch' once she became a big star.
Madison fully agreed with this.
And loved this path of advancement.
"We can also become team leaders?"
"On the same level as the great Michael?"
"Hiss~ Is that really possible?"
The angels seemed to like the environment with advancement opportunities. They had stayed too long in the rigid, class-bound environment of Heaven and couldn't imagine eating at the same table as an Archangel.
"On the same level as me?" Michael seemed to realize something. His golden pupils contracted violently. His handsome face was so dark it could drip water.
"Enough!"
Michael suddenly roared, his eyes blazing with golden light—it shouldn't be like this. According to the plan, the angels were only supposed to be thrown onto Earth to gain some experience and follow a process.
However.
Now he was also trapped on Earth.
Stripped of glory and power.
Things were completely sliding into an uncontrolled direction he had never anticipated. This filled Michael with gloom. He tried to use his power to punish the blasphemous mortal before him.
But.
Michael's golden eyes were very bright.
However, the Creator Power he had clearly used just before, the power to freely rewrite reality, fell silent. Even as tears threatened to spill, nothing happened in reality. The church ruins remained quiet, with only a few startled crows flying away. Madison tilted her head and looked at him, not a single strand of her hair moving.
"Huh? Did you get sand in your eye?"
The young witch asked sincerely.
She saw that Michael was weeping.
"How can this be? Why is this happening? It shouldn't be like this." Michael looked at his hands in disbelief. Not just his glory, but the Seraphic power that had flowed in his body for billions of years was also gone without a trace. The hollow feeling made him tremble—as if his spine had suddenly been removed.
The great, strongest Angel of Heaven.
Now, not only had he lost all his glory, but his own power was also sealed. Yes, sealed. The difference between an Archangel and an ordinary angel was that an Archangel possessed their own power.
And now, that power was gone.
As if it had never existed.
Of course.
The reason was simple.
This power also originated from the grant of God.
And only God had the ability to seal his power. Michael, realizing that he wasn't being haunted by some evil entity but was being targeted by his Father God, found it extremely difficult to accept the facts.
"Father! What did I do wrong?"
He lifted his head and roared at the sky, his voice heartbroken, filled with unwillingness and despair. The lightless wings behind him drooped forlornly, and his face, once bright as the rising sun, was now ashen like a faded oil painting.
He was once the strongest Archangel in Heaven, having personally slain countless fallen ones.
Now, he couldn't even subdue a mere mortal.
He was no longer a warrior.
Just... an outcast.
"Tell me! Please! Tell me!"
Michael still received no response.
Only a few dry leaves spun and drifted past his eyes.
Madison was completely unaffected by this tragic scene. Instead, she eagerly pulled out her small notebook: "Archangel, can you sing? Dance? Can you at least rap a little?"
She wanted to find out if Michael had any talents.
"Hmph?"
Michael slowly turned his head.
His gaze was dangerously intense, as if he wanted to devour Madison alive.
"Mortal, do you know who you are speaking to? I am the Right Hand of God, the Strongest Angel, who once cast Lucifer into the abyss—" His voice was low like thunder.
Carrying an air of inviolable majesty.
"Clap!"
Madison suddenly clapped her hands, interrupting Michael's introduction.
"Yes, yes, that's it. The 'old woman collector' vibe is coming out. We can brand you with a live-streaming persona of an 'Overbearing CEO' who has fallen on hard times but is still stuck in the past."
Madison's eyes shone fiercely.
She genuinely understood live-streaming gimmicks. Ian never chose the wrong assistant.
"Of course, you still need to learn other talents. Even a fallen Overbearing CEO has to know how to dance, sing, and play basketball." Madison had strict requirements for the angels.
Upon hearing this.
Michael's expression froze instantly.
He slowly raised his hand, instinctively wanting to bring down heavenly retribution upon this blasphemer—the Archangel indeed had residual power, but it was truly too residual.
"Hoo~"
The Vice Regent of Heaven struck with full force.
But only a small puff of breeze blew from his palm, just enough to lift Madison's bangs. Madison didn't feel the slightest threat from this, and was even a little surprised.
"Wow! Is that your talent? 'Archangel's Breeze'? Nice, nice. Viewers will surely love this during the live stream!" Madison seemed to be on a completely different wavelength from Michael.
She was focused on developing the career Ian had assigned her, and she even made a note in her notebook that Michael's streaming room could save the cost of an air conditioner or electric fan.
Michael would definitely fan himself when it got hot.
"How dare you humiliate me like this!" Michael heard Madison's words. His face turned from white to red, then from red to blue. Exposed, he lunged violently at Madison.
The three-meter-long street lamp that had been placed aside automatically stood up, eager to earn the highest reputation for beating Michael. Unfortunately, Michael was restrained by a group of angels grabbing his limbs.
"Your Eminence, you must calm down!"
"It's only a few decades. For us, it's practically in the blink of an eye. Lord Ian said this is 'atonement training,' an opportunity provided by God who sent him for us!"
"The Archangel of Salvation will surely save all angels."
"Honestly, getting hit on the head with that street lamp really hurts, Your Eminence. You shouldn't look for trouble."
...
A group of angels advised Michael. Among them were the dozen or so unlucky angels who had their heads struck by Madison in Metropolis and were forced to perform awkward dances under the influence of mysterious power—since Ian stopped using his favorite kryptonian hammer to hit people's heads, he clearly found a successor for his craft.
"Let go of me!"
Michael was pressed to the ground, his wings splayed out miserably. Listening to the angels' constant "advice," he felt the greatest humiliation he had ever suffered since birth.
Struggling?
He was certainly struggling.
But he couldn't overcome the considerable strength of the other angels.
Michael was surrounded and pressed to the ground by the combined efforts of the angels. It was hard to say if there wasn't some personal grudges involved. His chest heaved violently, his eyes filled with shame and defiance.
Michael looked at the former subordinates before him.
Now, every one of them was discussing "live streaming techniques," "fan management," and "tip sharing"... all things Madison had taught them earlier.
Michael felt completely alienated.
Are these still angels?
He suddenly realized something—he could no longer control any of this.
The wind blew from the side, carrying distant whispers.
"Caw caw caw caw caw~"
A crow landed on an awning, tilting its head to watch the farce. Its pitch-black eyes reflected Michael's face, a mix of shock, anger, and insane roaring—the once majestic Archangel was now having his hands forced down by a group of ordinary angels to affix his fingerprint to the *Ian's Greatest Technology Group Labor Contract*.
"How dare you do this to me?!"
Michael's roar made the shattered stones on the ruins rattle down. His golden eyes, which once burned with holy fire, were now full of fury and humiliation.
In response.
The angels naturally had a righteous answer.
"This is all so you can return to Heaven with us!"
"Yes, yes, the Archangel of Salvation is clearly the Lord's choice!"
"Lord Michael is so powerful, he will definitely complete his atonement earlier than us."
...
From the angels' perspective, their judgment was likely correct. Since even Michael had lost his glory, it naturally proved that the Archangel of Salvation was the correct Archangel to follow.
"Damn it! There is no Archangel of Salvation at all—"
Michael's roar was caught in his throat.
The moment his soul contract took effect, a trace of long-lost glory suddenly flowed back into his body. Though faint, like a candle flame in the wind, it was indeed the power that belonged to him!
Even a bit of glory flowed back into his body.
"This—"
Michael's pupils suddenly dilated.
He looked down at the faint golden light flickering in his palm, his voice filled with shock and uncertainty. Could this absurd contract truly be God's will? Was the Lord testing him in this way?
"Well? Ian's Greatest Technology Group never forces angels to labor."
Madison chewed on the pen cap, blinking her eyes as she waited for his answer. Michael took a deep breath, suddenly becoming unusually calm: "I will not perform for the world."
He was certainly not foolish.
He had already realized the problem.
However, he still wanted to maintain some boundaries.
This rapid transformation of the Archangel even stunned Madison for a moment.
"Then what other talents do you have?"
Madison held her small notebook again. It was adorned with many magical symbols she had fabricated herself. Only she could read them, and they had no actual magical meaning.
They were purely for decoration.
"I am skilled in combat."
Michael got up from the ground and replied in a deep voice.
"There are no high-paying mercenary jobs right now. Wait a little longer. Do you have any other talents?" Madison searched on her phone for a moment before shaking her head in refusal.
Hearing this, Michael was silent for a moment.
"I can punish sinners."
His voice was slightly defiant. After all, compared to other angels who had some basic skills, how could the Vice Regent of Heaven, the most powerful Archangel, know any worldly talents?
"Uh, okay, dark web streaming is also streaming!" Madison pondered for a moment and found a suitable avenue for Michael. She clearly had a more flexible mindset than Ian.
She decided to let Michael stream BDSM lessons on the dark web, perhaps even developing it into a multi-gender cultural movement. A true demon hid within the young delinquent girl's mind.
Unfortunately, the powerless Michael couldn't sense it.
However.
"I won't stream!"
He inherently resisted the act of pleasing mortals. Unlike the other angels who accepted the arrangements, the Vice Regent of Heaven still considered humans to be merely pets raised by God.
How could he, the Son of God, possibly try to please pets?
"But Ian only planned for two paths—and I can't find a new one." Madison struggled, flipping through her notebook. She had reached a knowledge blind spot.
Thankfully, this dilemma didn't last too long.
"I'll go assemble screws!"
Michael practically yelled the phrase, his handsome face twisting for a moment. The dignified Vice Regent of Heaven would rather work as an assembly line worker in a factory than smile for a camera!
"Fine, fine."
Michael finally got his wish and was assigned to assemble screws. Although Madison was full of regret, she registered him and handed him a copy of the *Screw Worker's Handbook: From Beginner to Ascension*.
[You once overlooked all beings in Heaven, but now you must personally experience the hardships of the mortal world. Bowing your head is not humiliation, it is the feeling of entering the world, and incidentally, it prevents you from being struck by falling parts... This book aims to help all novices quickly adapt to assembly line work and achieve the professional leap from "Apprentice Mortal Screw Worker" to "Grandmaster Heavenly Ten-Level Fitter" as soon as possible!]
The content was only about a hundred thousand words.
This was an improvised creation by the great writer Ian.
There were hundreds of different ranks awaiting the angels' ascension—clearly, Ian had utilized some game design tactics. He believed this would definitely have a positive and affirmative effect.
The other angels were all extremely interested in this.
Only the Archangel's expression changed repeatedly.
"..."
Michael's knuckles were white as he clenched the manual, struggling not to tear the book apart on the spot. He was about to turn and leave when a screeching brake sound interrupted the scene.
A rusty old truck swerved to a stop in front of the ruins.
"We're here, we're here."
Jordan jumped out of the passenger seat, dusting himself off.
"The fare?"
He held out his hand to Madison for money.
Madison looked at the dilapidated truck.
"Ian clearly ordered a large bus. Are you even trying to skim money off your own brother?" The young delinquent didn't immediately take out the money but looked at Ian's second brother in disbelief.
"Where am I supposed to rent a large bus at this hour? Normal people don't dare to drive into Gotham right now." Jordan rolled his eyes, his tone self-righteous.
There was some truth to his words.
Driving into Gotham late at night.
It looked like a setup for a robbery.
Not to mention the disaster that had happened in Gotham today. Everyone knew that something terrifying had occurred in Gotham, so only superheroes were not afraid of contracting a mysterious virus.
In response.
Madison thought for a moment and felt he had a point.
"A large truck definitely shouldn't cost the same as a large bus." Madison pouted, counted out a stack of banknotes, carefully counted them again, and then had the angel with good math recount them before handing them to Jordan.
"Ian said I could take a little cut." Jordan took the money, skillfully pulled out half and stuffed it into his pants pocket, then turned and handed the rest to Black Lightning in the driver's seat.
"Seriously, couldn't you have skimmed a little less?" Black Lightning, the minor superhero from Metropolis, watched this blatant corruption with utter speechlessness.
Jordan felt no shame whatsoever.
"This is my deserved brokerage fee. The most important thing in the twenty-first century is connections. I provided you with an opportunity to supplement your household income. You should thank the [Metropolis Superhero Designated Union]."
He patted Black Lightning's shoulder, pretending to be profound. The Kent family had many talents, such as Ian, who wanted to start the New Justice League, and Jordan, who was secretly running a Superhero Union.
"..."
Black Lightning's mouth twitched several times.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Madison ushering the group of angels into the truck bed. Since they had retracted their wings, Black Lightning only saw a group of handsome men and beautiful women.
A few were quietly discussing something called "atonement points."
"Did Superman really arrange this for you? To relocate these refugees?" Black Lightning asked suspiciously. He mainly didn't think Gotham had residents who seemed so innocent.
"Of course."
Jordan nodded without changing his expression. The Kent family had many Supermen. He didn't specify which Superman. Even if his father caught him, he would still be disciplined less than Ian for lying.
Ian never spoke the truth.
But Jordan always spoke the truth.
"I'll verify this with Superman!" Black Lightning rarely got to see Superman, but it didn't stop him from being cautious. He had been careful ever since his smuggling investigation led him to the CIA.
The truck rattled its way toward the cross-sea bridge between Gotham and Metropolis.
Black Lightning kept his ears open.
He heard the young girl in the truck bed teaching the refugees how to work efficiently. The more he listened, the more something felt wrong. He felt like he was aiding and abetting a couple of kids in human trafficking.
Black Lightning felt a bit panicked.
Yet, Jordan said nothing after getting into the car.
He noticed the boy in the passenger seat browsing the Amazon shopping platform.
"What are you doing?" The minor superhero broke the awkward silence, but Jordan immediately covered his phone screen, shaking his head frantically, looking guilty.
"Just online shopping. Online shopping is normal. Everyone shops online." Jordan didn't want to reveal that he was choosing a girlfriend, and he was quite excited about no longer being limited to the small Holy Grail.
What full realism.
Imported silicone-based.
One-to-one human body size.
The advertisements made Jordan's heart surge.
"Don't get distracted while driving. Many accidents happen because people aren't focused when driving." Jordan reminded Black Lightning, and the atmosphere in the air fell silent once more.
Only Madison's voice echoed from the truck bed, describing the wickedness of the mortal world to the angels using the knowledge she had gained in Hollywood.
"Those officials in the government like to keep popular angels confined in Area 51. Stray angels are captured for experiments. Only our official employees are protected!"
"You might even kick a dog outside and find yourselves being chased by terrifying assassins, or kidnapped to an island and forced to play a battle royale game."
"Hey, hey, don't get so scared that you start shedding feathers! If you start shedding feathers now, you won't have a chance to exchange your feathers for Heavenly points in the winter, okay?"
Madison was clearly very concerned about the angels' feather condition.
After all, Ian had promised to give her a down jacket as a year-end bonus—the large truck drove back to Metropolis in this strange atmosphere.
"So they really are refugees."
It wasn't until the truck stopped in front of an apartment building, and Black Lightning watched Madison lead the "refugees" through the orderly check-in process, that he finally relaxed a tiny bit. Especially when a certain beautiful woman seriously asked, "What is the Wi-Fi password for the dorm?" he finally dismissed the terrible thought that "the Kent family is planning to open a slave plantation."
"The Wi-Fi password has no fixed digits. To prevent others from stealing the Wi-Fi, you just need to praise Ian to the router ten thousand times." Madison thought this was perfectly reasonable.
"?????"
But Black Lightning was dumbfounded.
He had never seen such a shameless router.
"All the appliances and furniture here seem to be the first batch of test products produced by Ian's factory." Jordan stroked his chin, pondering something.
"..."
Black Lightning's silence wasn't just because he had reached a knowledge blind spot.
Black Lightning furiously hit the gas and drove away from the apartment building with his unjust side hustle.
"Wait for me!"
Jordan flew up and dove into the passenger seat. The angels were indeed beautiful, but Jordan was unmoved, as he didn't particularly like three-dimensional girls.
The two-dimensional virus that Ian kept on his computer was truly beautiful.
"Male angels live in one building, and female angels live in another building." Madison didn't care about Jordan's departure. She shouted through a megaphone.
She was clearly enjoying being the chief manager.
"Remember, don't fall for your own kind—" She winked and added, and the angels nodded, understanding this arrangement.
After all, Heaven had similar rules.
However.
"But you can fall for humans. There are humans everywhere outside. Dating is allowed. Ian said this is to promote cultural exchange between the Heavenly and Human realms!"
Madison's tone carried a hint of guilt.
She was clearly issuing a fake imperial decree.
She did this mainly because she wanted to see what a Nephalem looked like.
"Nonsense!"
Michael violently raised his head.
His golden pupils suddenly contracted.
He wanted to continue his angry tirade, but Madison's phone rang. It was her parents. After arranging accommodation for the angels, she answered the phone and flew away.
Yes.
Flew away.
Just as Michael was about to lose his temper, Madison had already mounted her street lamp and was flying into the night sky like Harry Potter on a broomstick.
In ancient times, witches rode broomsticks; now, they rode street lamps. This was progress. Michael stood rooted to the spot, his hidden wings trembling with rage.
"Nephalem must absolutely not be born! That will be the beginning of disaster!" He solemnly warned the angels, and the angels nodded seriously, stating that they would never make such a terrible mistake.
They took their room cards and began trying to embrace human life, returning to their assigned dormitories. Only Michael, holding the room card for the exclusive team leader room, remained motionless.
Late at night.
The Archangel sat alone on the apartment building's rooftop.
He certainly wasn't about to jump.
He was still feeling unwilling.
"Father, Great Lord, what do you want from us?" Michael revealed his wings, but the once pristine white feathers were now abnormally dull.
He flapped them twice.
Michael realized he couldn't even use them to fly anymore.
"Uriel! If you can hear me, please help me—" Michael gazed up at the starry sky, trying to find the direction of Heaven, and prayed inwardly to his brother.
The night wind blew past, but there was no response.
Only a gasp came from downstairs from a certain angel.
"I was boiling water, and when the kettle whistled, the sound turned out to be a siren praising the Archangel of Salvation?" Clearly, modern technology had somewhat startled the angels from Heaven.
This commotion.
Made Michael feel incredibly miserable once again.
"Uriel! I call upon you in the name of brotherhood! Please answer me!" The wind blew through his ragged wings and across his broken armor. He prayed again and again.
As if that were his last hope.
"Uriel... as long as I can return to Heaven, I can find a way to retrieve my power. Take me back quickly, or Lucifer might seize control of Heaven in this opportunity."
Michael's voice penetrated the clouds.
No response.
Only the sound of the wind and the angels' low murmurs in the distance.
"Has Uriel lost his glory too?"
Michael covered his face deeply with his fingers. He began to suspect that even his brother had been kicked out of Heaven and could no longer hear his prayers.
However.
Was this truly the case?
In a place Michael could no longer see, Heaven was not as desolate as he imagined. Uriel, who was there, indeed heard his elder brother's prayer.
However.
His response was not what Michael had hoped for. The Seraph of Heaven, after observing the scene on Earth, looked as if he had been possessed by an evil spirit.
He heard Michael's prayer.
He heard it clearly.
But he didn't respond. Instead, he started acting frantically.
He dragged heavy metal chains to tightly wrap around the Gate of Heaven, which led to the mortal world. He used Holy Fire to seal the runes on the door and even drew a forbidden spell with his own blood.
Completely sealing the passage.
It wasn't that Uriel couldn't save Michael.
He didn't dare to.
He knew Michael had been forsaken by God.
And any attempt to establish contact with the fallen would be considered an act of rebellion.
"Great Lord, my beloved Father." Uriel's voice trembled as he also prayed, "I swear I have no other loyalty but you! Michael's fall has nothing to do with me!"
The Seraph used his intelligence. While praying, he frantically piled things behind the Gate of Heaven: Holy Arks, altars, and even a few Seraph statues.
All were used to block the doorway.
As if terrified that he might accidentally fall out of Heaven himself.
The Seraph was desperately showing his loyalty to God, constantly criticizing Michael for being too fallen. Things like brotherly affection were completely unimportant compared to his continued stay in Heaven.
Of course.
In Uriel's own view.
He was submitting to the Lord's will.
However, the wind blew from afar, carrying whispers that didn't belong to this world. Within the high walls of Heaven, the line between loyalty and betrayal might have already disappeared.
"Father, I am your most faithful servant. My loyalty to you has never wavered. Michael is no longer the guardian of Heaven. I will certainly not answer his prayers."
"Rest assured."
As Uriel prayed frantically. Unknown to him, above his head, a crow silently perched on the window sill. After watching him for a long time, it let out a somewhat harsh laugh.
"Caw caw caw caw caw caw~"
The piercing cry of the crow suddenly rang out.
The crow's blood-red eyes stared mockingly at Uriel.
"Get lost! Lucifer's spy!"
Uriel suddenly looked up, his face drastically changing. He roared and swung his arm, trying to drive the crow away, not daring to use his power for fear that any usage would hasten its depletion.
The crow flapped its wings and flew up.
But it paused for a moment in the air.
Immediately after, a familiar and playful voice came from its mouth.
"I love this scene so much."
It was Lucifer Morningstar.
He chose not to invade Heaven but to mock it. At that moment, Lucifer was sitting in the corner of the Lux Bar, holding a small crow doll in his hand.
He spoke into the crow doll as if making a phone call.
The background noise in the bar was a mixture of deafening explosions and electronic music.
"Uriel, listen to my bar's new music~"
Lucifer drank his wine and chuckled, holding the doll close to the speaker, "Boom boom boom~ Isn't the rhythm strong? A bunch of humans will be raving to this tomorrow night!"
His voice was filled with schadenfreude.
In Heaven.
Uriel's face instantly turned ashen upon hearing the sound through the strange crow—he realized that it wasn't electronic music at all, but a live recording of the Holy City exploding!
It had been arranged into incredibly high-energy music!
"Say hello to Michael for me. Oh, I almost forgot, he can't hear my greetings anymore. He's on a rooftop right now, feeling sorry for himself and licking his wounds."
Lucifer's cheerful voice was filled with happiness. "Uriel, don't worry, even though I don't like you, I'm still willing to offer you a bartender job opportunity."
"Daily wages, guaranteed training. I'm here, waiting for you to fall to the mortal realm." The voice of Lucifer the three-year-old was full of snide remarks, which infuriated Uriel.
"Get out!!!"
Uriel couldn't help but blast a stream of Holy Fire toward it, and the crow instantly turned to ash. But Lucifer's laughter still echoed in the Holy Temple, like a nightmare that could never be dispelled.
"Hahahahahaha~!"
Lucifer was indeed still laughing loudly in his bar. God knows how many years it had been since he was this happy. The entire bar was filled with the blissful emotion of the Lord of Hell.
At this time.
The demon king, Crowley, was mopping the floor.
"An Archangel has fallen too... this is absolutely astounding." He stared at the television screen, his eyes violently contracting. On the screen, Michael was silently weeping.
Crowley was well aware that chaos would erupt in Heaven.
But he never expected the fun to be this immense.
His intuition told him that this was no simple matter.
"The power of an Archangel, just gone?" Crowley turned to Lucifer behind the bar, his tone disbelieving. He knew well that Michael was the 'Hand of God' who could create reality from nothing.
"Don't overestimate the Archangels." Lucifer shook his glass, still wearing that cynical smile. He held up his thumb and forefinger, forming a tiny gap.
"Michael is strong, but there's still me between him and God. Don't underestimate that subtle difference. Although it seems small, an entire Multiverse could be placed in that gap. In my presence, he is like I am in the presence of that crazy God, separated by an unbridgeable chasm between mortal and god."
Perhaps Lucifer represented arrogance, but in reality, Lucifer had always been the most clear-headed angel. His words left Crowley speechless.
"What is God trying to do?" Crowley frowned, unable to help but speculate on the Supreme Being's intentions. He was clearly not as clever or clear-headed as Lucifer.
Lucifer suddenly burst into laughter, shoving his phone into Crowley's hand: "What does that have to do with us? Enjoy the moment! Here, record a video for me."
With that.
Lucifer adjusted his perpetually immaculate suit in Los Angeles.
The baffled Crowley raised his phone. In the camera, Lucifer suddenly clutched his stomach, pointed at the lens, and laughed so hard that he doubled over. The exaggerated laughter even shattered a few chandeliers.
"Hahaha ha ha~"
Lucifer's laughter was incredibly theatrical.
"Your Grace?" Crowley promptly recorded the video, cautiously handing the phone back.
"Just having some fun, of course." Lucifer licked the liquor from his lips, his gaze returning to the television. On the screen, a group of angels were learning the hot dance lessons Madison had remotely sent them.
Both male and female angels were using the same routine.
"Mazikeen!" Lucifer took another sip of wine, then suddenly shouted at the distance, "Go check how much money we have! I'm going to invest all of it in Ian Kent's company!"
His tone was eager and impatient.
"What kind of madness are you up to now?"
The female demon bartender, who was wiping glasses, rolled her eyes.
"I don't want shares!" Lucifer raised an eyebrow, excitedly speaking while holding the freshly recorded video. "I just want him to continuously loop my handsome face on the company's big screen!"
It must be said.
Lucifer the three-year-old knew how to humiliate an angel.
"Wait, I'll check the accounts." Mazikeen was silent for a moment. She looked at the angels on the television. Her disgust for Heaven finally overcame her annoyance with Lucifer.
Crowley watched Mazikeen's retreating figure and couldn't help but quietly ask Lucifer for guidance.
"Is that boy really the Archangel of Salvation?"
Although Crowley had other suspicions about Ian, thinking Ian might be God's alternate account on Earth, his guess clearly wouldn't be as accurate as the information Lucifer possessed.
Lucifer didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he poured himself another glass of wine.
"He has no biological, clone, or power connection to God. However... the title 'Archangel of Salvation'... is somewhat apt."
He stared at the [Evil God Comic Face] sticker on the television screen, then looked at Ian, who was standing side-by-side with Superman in the television picture, poking Batman's eyeballs.
How could the Lord of Hell not see the glory that other angels could perceive?
Don't forget.
His angelic status was still retained.
"Ian Kent, a little boy deeply valued by God. He is not simple. His origin, his very being... all conceal God's unease about certain things."
"I believe that unease is not derived from the so-called Outer Universe invasion." The neon lights of the Lux Bar flickered outside the window, casting Lucifer's profile in alternating light and shadow.
He was still looking at the television set with the [Evil God Comic Face] sticker. In the picture, Ian in the underground base was examining Batman with his father.
In the dimly lit medical room of the underground base, Batman lay flat on the bed, his body covered in bizarre purplish-black scars. The lines crawled beneath his skin like living things, occasionally swelling with an unsettling squirming motion. The most terrifying sight was his eyes—the eyeballs were exaggeratedly protruding, looking as if they might pop out of their sockets at any moment.
"Pop!"
Ian skillfully reached out and pressed Bruce's bulging eyeballs back in, but as soon as he let go, the two gray-blue eyeballs "popped" out again like glass marbles.
Ian pressed them back.
Batman's eyeballs bulged out again.
The process repeated constantly.
"Are you playing with Bruce's eyeballs?" The Flash couldn't help but ask. His Speed Force was active in his retina, allowing him to perceive the tug-of-war between Ian and Batman's eyeballs.
"I'm preventing tentacles from growing out from under Uncle Bruce's eyeballs." Ian had heard the Flash say earlier that the audacious Batman had dared to inject Cthulhu contamination into his body.
If Batman wasn't going to mutate, who was?
"Are you absolutely sure you're not thinking about killing Batman, forging a paternity test, and inheriting Wayne Enterprises?" The Flash didn't trust Ian's moral bottom line much.
Hearing this.
Ian couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"Do you know I'm an entrepreneur now? My company's prospects are much brighter than Wayne Enterprises." Ian was no longer preoccupied with the paltry assets of Wayne Enterprises.
He believed his corporation had a brighter future. Thus, Wayne Enterprises regrettably lost a great regent. This was not only Wayne Enterprises' loss but also Damian's tragedy. Damian would likely never have the life experience of meeting his true love as an unprivileged young master.
Ian even felt sorry for Damian.
He pressed Uncle Bruce's eyeballs back in again.
"I somehow feel like neither of you actually wants to save Bruce." Barry, the Flash's uncle, looked suspiciously at Superman. Clark was scanning Bruce with his X-ray vision, a movement he had repeated tens of thousands of times. He suspected Superman wanted to fully expose Bruce to radiation through this method, causing him to contract terrifying radiation sickness that would only manifest in the future.
Of course.
This was clearly the Flash judging Superman by his own standards. Clark always thought about when he would finally get the chance to snap Batman's neck after Batman turned evil.
He wouldn't even consider whether he should wear a suit to Batman's funeral.
Superman was genuinely examining the problem with Batman.
"His organs are still functioning normally. In reality, what we see is merely a phenomenon that exists between existence and non-existence, but this 'non-existent phenomenon' is likely to overwrite reality after a while." Superman was completely different from before. His evolved vision allowed him to see the traces of invasion more clearly.
"So, what should we do?" The [Error Data, Cannot Absorb] prompt constantly flashing in Ian's vision irritated him. He had actually already tried various methods to rescue Bruce—Holy Sword Purification, Blasphemous Dirge, and he even poured some God-slaying gunpowder scraped from the God Killer Gun into Bruce's vein, but it was no use.
The contamination on Bruce's body remained uncontrolled and unresolved.
[Blasphemous Dirge: By virtue of your firm belief in yourself, you can blaspheme the authority of the gods, stripping away all positive or negative buff states from yourself or others.]
Through his incredibly domineering mechanical skill, Ian could indeed remove the contamination from Batman, but he couldn't remove the Outer Universe attached to Batman.
That was not a state.
This meant that the contamination would be removed, only for new contamination to immediately overwrite Batman. It was no longer a matter of treating the symptoms without curing the root cause. The contamination on Batman was like bean sprouts; no matter how much you cut, it just kept regrowing.
"Perhaps you could pray to that goddess you know again?" Superman knew that Miss Death could remotely extract Outer Universes, so he offered his suggestion to Ian.
"Miss Death isn't as obsessed with me lately." Ian sighed heavily. He had indeed prayed, but Miss Death, who had clearly appeared in the Vatican earlier, was now completely out of touch.
He didn't know what she was busy with.
Sure enough, the reason why wives in movies who receive little attention from their husbands at home cheat with cleaners and sewer repairmen is precisely this.
Indifference.
Leads to distance.
Ian had only intended to test Miss Death for tens of thousands of years, but she couldn't even last a year.
"What a fickle woman."
Ian sighed heavily.
The [Error Data, Cannot Absorb] message was constantly appearing in his vision. He didn't know how to force out the contamination. Could he really resort to biting into Batman's brain?
"I'm not a zombie!"
Ian was quite reluctant to do this. He liked to eat strange and energy-rich things, which was a professional necessity. Normally, he didn't even like eating broccoli.
Let alone a human brain, which was more terrifying than a pig's brain.
"Let me try my last resort." Ian suddenly pulled out a black box from his pocket—a player for the precious video recording of Martha Wayne in Heaven.
He waved the picture wildly in front of Bruce's wide-open eyes as if brandishing a holy artifact.
"Uncle Bruce! Your mom is calling you to Heaven for dinner! She made your favorite food, boiled chicken breast with unsalted mashed potatoes. If you don't go, she's going to give it to my grandfather to eat."
"And maybe something else too." Ian shouted into Batman's ear, the picture from the black box almost touching Bruce's face.
"Ian! What are you talking about?!"
This sentence made Superman look at Ian several times, his expression terrified. Superman had a strong reaction, but Bruce clearly couldn't hear this touching story about Heaven.
"It seems my killing move didn't work."
Ian blinked, looking slightly helpless. He didn't answer Superman's question. In such a serious situation, the matter of Grandfather Jonathan and the other Martha having tea would only disrupt Superman's composure.
"No, what you just said, what exactly is going on?" Superman was deeply shaken. He had only just learned what Ian had encountered in Heaven.
He didn't dare to think any further!
"Oh, dear. Is Ian planning a new way to inherit Wayne Enterprises?" The Flash next to him was also stunned. He had naturally realized the problem that Superman had picked up on.
Furthermore.
He even suspected that Ian had planned it all along, playing matchmaker in Heaven.
"I already said, Ian's Greatest Technology Group has a brighter future than Wayne Enterprises. I can proudly advertise that all my products are produced locally. Does Wayne Enterprises dare to say it doesn't use materials from the Eastern superpower?"
"Do you know what MAGA is? I can make America great again!"
Ian couldn't help but roll his eyes at the Flash three times. He knew that even if he fought a price war against Wayne Enterprises in the same market, his technology group would inevitably win in the end.
"..."
The Flash found it hard to comment on this.
And fell into silence along with Superman.
"Let's focus on saving Bruce first." Superman temporarily put aside the distracting thoughts in his mind, deciding not to take the Flash's suggestion of letting the boy in his mind out.
The only reliable boy in this room was Ian.
However.
Seeing that Ian was also struggling to find a solution, Superman frowned and could only turn his attention back to Batman, engaging his Super Brain.
"I'm going to try something." Superman took a deep breath, gently placing his hand on Batman's chest. Bruce Wayne's heartbeat transmitted through the armor.
But it carried a kind of unnatural echo.
That was actually an illusion.
But it wasn't entirely an illusion either.
If Bruce's condition was allowed to worsen, the things that were initially only between reality and illusion could truly threaten Bruce's life.
"My new ability might be useful." Clark was unsure. He felt that since he could perceive others' thoughts, he might also be able to sense Bruce's current soul state.
Thinking this.
Clark closed his eyes and concentrated. He didn't know until he tried it, but it became a subjective experience. He indeed unlocked a new method of "listening"—empathy. In Superman's perception, the surrounding scenery immediately began to twist and dissolve. The medical room lights rapidly faded away.
They were replaced by a chaotic, alternate dimension.
When Superman opened his eyes again, he was standing in front of a sinister-looking temple. The structure squirmed like a living thing, its walls embedded with countless tortured and twisted faces, and its spires spiraled upwards with spine-like structures. Scarlet mist permeated the surroundings, and the air was thick with a cloyingly nauseating fragrance.
"Bruce!"
In this empathized scenario, Superman saw the figure he was looking for. Bruce Wayne was standing ramrod straight in the center of the evil-looking temple.
"Have you decided on your answer?"
Batman spoke in a deep voice. In front of him stood an evil god, whose body was composed of pure sensual pleasure and pain. Every contour was constantly shifting.
As if its very existence was the ultimate temptation. Of course, Bruce was not inferior. Using the dream energy he had collected from Metropolis and the remaining Cthulhu contamination, he had clearly transformed himself into a Fifth Evil God-like figure in the dream realm, surrounded by Cthulhu-like black, viscous matter.
He was even using those tentacle-like contaminants as weapons, rivaling the power of the alluring Evil God.
"Time and time again, I didn't even realize you were here. Now, either take your universe and leave my body." Batman's voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Or be destroyed with me by the Cthulhu contamination." Batman was negotiating with the Evil God. His method was clearly not as humiliating as Doctor Strange from another world.
The readiness to perish together at the slightest disagreement was truly a ruthless tactic.
"Despicable! How dare you threaten me with the poison of another universe?" The perfect androgynous face of the Evil God twisted. It was clearly wary of the contamination on Batman's body.
Its voice, like the superposition of thousands of harmonies, was full of annoyance. There was no helping it; Slaanesh was the "Lord of Pleasure" and the "God of Sensation," an Archdemon of Chaos from the Warhammer world's Warp.
However.
Even so.
It didn't want to become a part of Cthulhu. There were differences in the chaos and filth levels of Evil Gods, and Slaanesh dared not embrace Bruce at all right now.
"Didn't you say I would scream and fall in love with you? Didn't you say you appreciated me?" Bruce sneered, deliberately allowing more black matter to climb up his arm.
He took a step forward.
Countless Cthulhu contaminants began to permeate the temple.
"Ah ah ah!!"
The Evil God let out a piercing shriek.
"How dare you defile my perfection!"
It was dodging and evading.
"Now, answer me! Make your decision!" Bruce's soul was already half-corroded by the Cthulhu contamination, but he didn't back down. Instead, he became more aggressive. He was forcefully introducing the Cthulhu contamination at the cost of his own willpower to create an internal conflict, thereby delaying Slaanesh's complete control over him.
This was a major gamble.
If he failed.
He would completely fall.
Becoming a part of the Cthulhu contamination.
He would never find release.
"So that's it!"
Superman witnessed the scene.
And immediately understood what was happening.
Bruce wasn't being contaminated; he was using contamination to fight contamination! Those seemingly horrifying scars were actually the battlefield where two foreign universal forces were fighting within Bruce's body.
"This is too dangerous."
Superman's consciousness was deeply immersed in Bruce's soul. Before him was the sinister and mysterious temple. He stood in the distance, watching Bruce confront the Evil God.
He was inwardly shocked.
However, just as he prepared to observe further, the alluring Evil God suddenly looked up.
"Look at this human! He's using Cthulhu contamination to fight me! Aren't you going to do something about this?!" The Evil God's elegance was mixed with anger and panic.
It seemed to be complaining to some hidden entity.
"Control this crazy human! If I get contaminated! You and the others won't escape either!" Slaanesh's threat was like a stone sinking into the sea, receiving no response.
Perhaps Slaanesh should sit at the same table as Michael.
Clark looked in the direction of the Evil God's roar—at the end of the shattered world, a massive figure in golden armor, sitting on a golden throne, was watching them.
A comic book lay on his knee.
When Superman's gaze met his, the figure subtly nodded at Superman.
In an instant, a massive amount of information surged into Clark's consciousness like a tide: burning galaxies, endless wars, the contamination of the Warp... finally converging into a clear will.
[Destroy us.]
The fact that the other party could transmit a message to Superman, and such a message at that, astonished Superman. He couldn't distinguish whether this was some kind of conspiracy.
He had encountered Outer Universe invasions several times.
And this.
Was the first time an Outer Universe entity actually hoped that he would destroy that Outer Universe.
"Is he not the supreme being of this world but a fragment of it, and since he can't make the decision himself, he hopes I can help him?"
Superman and the figure on the throne stared at each other.
He could clearly feel the other party's mind was wide open.
"Who is he?" Superman's emotions fluctuated greatly. When he looked back at the center of the temple, he found that Bruce and the monstrously alluring Evil God still hadn't noticed his presence.
"It's useless. This contamination is more evil than yours." Batman was still confronting the Evil God. The Cthulhu energy surrounding him clashed violently with Slaanesh's corruption.
He was in a constant tug-of-war with the Evil God.
Yet, he completely ignored the Superman who was right next to him.
Just as Clark stepped forward, intending to see if he could interfere with this domain.
"Clark."
The Flash's call suddenly came from a distant place. Superman felt a pulling force appear in reality. He took one last look at Bruce, who was being torn apart by two contaminants.
Then, his consciousness abruptly returned to reality.
Clearly, Superman's hand had slipped from Bruce's chest as the Flash shook him. The lights of the underground base stabbed into his eyes. Superman looked at the Flash in confusion.
"What happened?"
He sensed the Flash's anxiety.
"You better look at this. It has nothing to do with me. I didn't hit the little boy; he just collapsed." The Flash, Barry, pointed at Ian lying on the ground.
His expression was as if he had seen a ghost.
Clark followed the direction of the Flash's finger, seeing Ian lying flat on the ground with his hands folded across his chest, a serene smile on his face. The posture resembled a person prepared for burial.
A bedsheet, which Ian had pulled from Batman's bed, lay next to him on the floor.
"I don't know what happened. Ian might be trying to commit insurance fraud against me." The Flash's voice trembled. "We were discussing the high-tech items in S.T.A.R. Labs. He wanted to buy them. I said I couldn't make the decision for the doctor. Then Ian suddenly said, 'Time's up,' and just lay down on the floor without moving."
The Flash recounted his experience with a highly theatrical expression.
In response.
Superman was completely unsurprised.
"Mmm, Ian is like this. He goes to sleep promptly at this time. This is already very good. At least he didn't move Batman and me out of the way and lie down on the bed himself."
Clark wasn't surprised.
Instead, he defended his youngest son.
He was hiding something.
However, the somewhat agitated Flash didn't notice.
"This is more than just sleeping. I can't even touch him..." The Flash's hand poked at Ian, but it was like poking an illusory bubble. His fingertip passed directly through the boy's body.
"This is definitely not normal. Has he been invaded too?" The Flash chattered excitedly. He looked up, only to see Clark's incredibly profound gaze.
It was placid and unperturbed.
***
Read 30 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666