What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 244

Just as he fell into a deep sleep.

The Red Death Demon's body, already heavily sealed, suddenly twisted a few times inside the metal cabinet. Its head caved in, and the joints of its body made a faint "clicking" sound.

A very slight noise.

No alarms were triggered.

after all.

There is no instrument to monitor it, at least not Batman has such an instrument at the moment—the lights of the Batcave cast a cold blue halo on the hibernation pod.

Bruce slept like a vampire in a coffin, stiff and tense. His expression kept changing, as if his dream was being silently eroded by some force.

I fell asleep as the medication took effect.

Darkness enveloped Bruce's consciousness, but soon, the darkness was torn apart—he clearly felt himself falling, passing through layer after layer of chaotic veils.

Until a cold, sticky sensation enveloped his entire body.

Bruce suddenly opened his eyes—only to find that the world before him had completely changed.

He stood on a desolate metal ruin.

The sky above wasn't Gotham's dark clouds, but a distorted sea of ​​stars.

A giant planet hangs in the sky.

Their orbits were in complete disarray, as if torn apart by some indescribable force.

Further out, ominous red lights flickered in the pitch-black universe, like eyes peering into reality. The air was thick with the pungent smell of metal and blood.

The deafening roar of artillery fire could be heard in the distance.

"Something's happening!" Bruce tensed almost instinctively, his fingers reaching for his belt—but his equipment was gone. He was wearing the Batsuit, but all his weapons, tools, and even his communicator were gone. Only the most basic armor remained, as if some force had deliberately stripped him of his armor.

"This is where?"

He whispered to himself.

But the sound was drowned out by the roar of the warship's engines.

Countless warships are falling.

"This is not human technology..."

Bruce looked around.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

A warrior in the same armor rushed forward, his voice hoarse and weary beneath his mask, "The Chaos Fleet has broken through our defenses! They are dismantling our forces!"

Chaos? Bruce frowned, but his body seemed to be driven by some kind of instinct, and he quickly followed the soldiers into the battle area.

in the corridor.

The corpses lay strewn about, and blood pooled in small streams on the metal floor.

"Hold the line!"

An officer roared and raised his slug gun, firing at the charging enemy. Bruce looked in the direction of the gun, his pupils contracting sharply—the enemy was not human.

They were twisted and deformed, their skin covered in scales and pustules, their limbs transformed into sharp claws. The monsters' eyes gleamed with a crazed light.

The screams that came from its mouth were inhuman.

"What's this?"

Bruce gripped the power sword handed to him, but his body charged forward uncontrollably.

His sword slashed down, and blood and flesh splattered everywhere. The enemy's blood wasn't red, but a viscous purple, which splattered on his armor and seemed to writhe like living things.

The battle continued.

Bruce felt his consciousness gradually blurring, as if being pulled by some force. Every swing of his sword, every dodge, seemed to be part of a pre-programmed sequence.

Rather than his own will.

Sudden.

A blinding light exploded in the distant starry sky.

Bruce looked up, his pupils suddenly contracting—a warship larger than a city was slowly emerging from the warp rift. Its shape resembled some kind of deep-sea behemoth, its hull covered in spikes and twisted statues, and those statues…were moving. Their eyes gleamed with an eerie purple light.

His lips curled into a grin.

It was as if they were laughing silently.

In the far reaches of deep space, another fleet was engaged in battle with this terrifying behemoth. Their ships were rigid and angular, branded with a golden double-headed eagle emblem. Cannon fire exploded silently in the vacuum, beams of light and missiles weaving a web of destruction, but the blasphemous behemoths seemed to revel in the carnage.

Their cannons spewed out brilliant purplish-red energy, each shot capable of tearing a human warship to shreds.

"Is this a cosmic war?"

Bruce immediately sought cover.

He had never seen an interstellar battle of this scale. Even when the Kryptonians' world engine descended upon Earth, it was far less insane than one ten-thousandth of the frenzy of this war.

“What are those guys?” Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. He instinctively wanted to do something, but he wasn’t even sure if it was a dream or if he was being invaded by an outer universe.

And just then.

The sudden sound helped Bruce confirm his answer.

"What an interesting soul..."

A voice sounded in his ears.

It wasn't a sound that traveled through the air, but echoed directly in his mind, like silk gliding over his skin, or the flick of a viper's tongue, sweet yet deadly.

Bruce turned around abruptly, but there was no one behind him.

"Who?!"

"You've finally come, my dear Dark Knight..." The voice chuckled, each syllable carrying a dizzying pleasure, "I've been watching you for a long time... your pain, your anger, your... repression."

Bruce gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. "A hallucination? Or some kind of psychological attack?"

"Oh, don't be so boring~" The owner of the voice seemed amused by his reaction, and his tone rose lightly, "You clearly crave release more than anyone else, yet you bind yourself with that ridiculous sense of responsibility... What a waste."

Suddenly, Bruce's vision was filled with a brilliant crimson.

The starry sky before him distorted and melted, replaced by a colossal palace—no, it couldn't even be called a "palace," but rather a realm constructed from desire itself.

The towering spires were made of intertwined bones and silk, the ground was covered with a soft, living carpet of flesh and blood, and the air was filled with a cloyingly sweet aroma that made one dizzy.

At the far end of the palace, a blurry figure leaned against the throne.

Four arms, alluring, with an inhuman beauty; just one glance was enough to send a tearing pain through Bruce's temples.

The other person's form kept changing, sometimes a beautiful girl, sometimes a handsome boy, or both at the same time, or even more... an undefinable form.

"Gods? Evil gods?"

Bruce's brain, which seemed to be gradually losing its function, was still capable of working.

He made a clear judgment.

“Welcome to my domain, Bruce Wayne… another lovely fellow, tsk tsk.” His skin was as smooth as pearls, and his eyes shimmered with a captivating purple light.

“You are purer than the last one, not that kind of hybrid, and I like that.” His voice sounded like a million people whispering at the same time, with a lazy and dangerous smile on his lips.

Bruce's muscles were taut to their limit, but his body was unable to move. Some force beyond the laws of physics was suppressing him, forcing him to stand still and stare directly at the presence before him.

“Red Reaper, another me, is the one he said he can’t defeat you?” Bruce struggled to keep his mind working, feeling his thoughts and soul being affected.

“I don’t know anything about the Red Reaper, I only care about you… You can call me… Lord of Pleasure.” He chuckled, his slender fingers lightly tracing the armrest of the throne.

The invasion from outer space has reached Bruce.

Subsequently.

Bruce's mind began to wander.

It was as if some kind of knowledge had been forcibly inserted into him—the being he faced was called Slaanesh. This was not the work of the other party, but a remnant of that red Grim Reaper.

That Batman, who was equally shrewd and calculating.

Ultimately, they figured out that the other person's desire for control was uncontrollable.

"Why me?" Bruce forced himself to speak.

“Because you are so…delicious.” Slaanesh’s fingertip gently pointed in his direction. “Your pain, your restraint, your almost self-destructive persistence…what a fascinating struggle.”

Bruce felt a chill, but what was even more terrifying was that deep down, a slight wavering had begun to creep into his heart.

“I can give you freedom, Bruce…” Slaanesh’s voice was sweet as honey, “Put down your shackles and embrace true pleasure… You can have everything you want.”

In an instant, countless images flashed before Bruce's eyes.

Gotham, no more crime.

His parents never died.

Superman has lost his powers.

Alfred, forever young.

That was his deepest desire.

"Do not……"

Bruce gritted his teeth, his nails digging deep into his palms, trying to use the pain to wake himself up. The pain had no effect; it only made him realize that this was no ordinary dream.

"That's not true."

Bruce closed his eyes.

"Oh? And what is this so-called 'truth' you speak of?" Slaanesh's laughter rang like silver bells. "What has your so-called perseverance brought you? More death? More suffering?"

Bruce's breathing became heavy.

"Why not unleash your true nature and let me see the real you?"

His words.

Make Bruce's pupils dilate.

"Shut up!"