American comics: Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who worry about their fathers!.

Chapter 1015 Clark's Bitter Cry: His Parents and Godfather Are Gone!
"I will trap you in the dream world you created to see what a world Superman can do without you."

Dr. Manhattan said in a completely emotionless tone:
“I will modify the existence node and completely remove ‘Peter Patrick’—as the causal link to Karl-El’s godfather—from all relevant timelines. Your existence will be erased, as if you never gave Karl the guidance and anchor that belonged to his father during his confused adolescence.”

"Thus, Karl-El will grow up in solitude and alienation, with no one to guide him to understand the fragility and greatness of humanity, no one to tell him that the true meaning of 'power' lies in protection rather than domination. His 'hope' will sprout and grow anew in the soil where Peter Padrick is not present, thereby verifying its essence—whether it is truly indestructible."

Peter paused for a moment when he heard the blue-haired man say he wanted to erase his existence.

This guy is really relentlessly pursuing Clark.

But even if you erase yourself, can you erase Clark's hope?
Peter shook his head, his gaze piercing through the clamor of the energy storm, through Dr. Manhattan's body, and landing in a more distant place.

In that instant, he seemed to see above the boundless golden wheat fields of Kansas, and in that skinny little boy with thick glasses, clumsily chasing Kryptonian dragonflies through the cornfield.

Then, Peter's blood-stained lips curled upwards in a smile.

"Dr. Joan Osterman..."

Peter said to him in a hoarse voice, "You... still don't understand."

Dr. Manhattan paused slightly, looking at Peter with a blank expression.

Peter's smile deepened, even though it aggravated his wounds and caused cold sweat to bead on his forehead.

He continued speaking in a calm and measured tone:

"You want to erase my existence? Very well, go ahead and do it. Erase me from Clark's memory, delete every fragment of his life related to 'Godfather Peter,' and throw him into a lonely childhood and adolescence without Peter Patrick..."

Peter paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

"And then? Dr. Joan? Then open your eyes wide and watch carefully."

His voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable power, like a thunderclap:
"Watching Clark Kent, who has lost his 'father's' guidance, watching him struggle in loneliness, watching him waver on the edge of strength and confusion, watching him face the darkness and brilliance of humanity, watching him—in the end!—still stand tall, still choose to don that red and blue battle suit, still use his chest to block bullets aimed at the innocent, still use his burning gaze to ignite the flame of hope in the eyes of the desperate!"

Peter spoke with a clear and resounding voice:

“Because hope was never something I, Peter Patrick, ‘gave’ to him, Dr. Joan. Hope was Clark Kent, it was Carl-El, it was him—it was in his bones!”

His gaze was sharp and fixed on Dr. Manhattan.

"Like a corn seed buried in the most barren soil, you can pull out the scarecrow that shelters it from the wind and rain, you can drain the water around it, you can even freeze it with frost, but as long as it is not completely dead, as long as it has a breath left, it will grow towards the sun no matter what, because it was born to break through the soil and move towards the light!"

"Clark, that's the seed!"

Peter's voice was resolute: "His power comes from the Yellow Sun, but his heart, the heart that made him choose to become Superman rather than God, is something he was born with. It is the mark that Martha and Jonathan Kent etched in his heart with the simplest love. It is something that I... as his godfather, have been fortunate to witness and protect, but I have never dared to take credit for it and say that it is something 'I gave him'!"

Peter's blood-stained face wore a calm smile of certainty.

"So go ahead and make changes, Joan Osterman, create your meticulously designed 'selfless' world! Lock me inside! Then, open those eyes that see through the past and future wide and watch carefully!"

Peter's voice, like a final prophecy, echoed in the dream space.

"Watch Clark Kent, how he still shines with the light of Superman in the hell you created, watch him grow into the embodiment of hope to defeat you in a world without Peter Parker!"

Seeing Peter, who seemed to have victory in his grasp and could almost see the future, Dr. Manhattan's spirits wavered slightly.

He realized that he seemed to have never truly understood the man before him.

Lost in confusion, Dr. Manhattan looked down at his palm.

Was I wrong?

at the same time.

Gotham, Batcave.

The medical platform, where Bruce lay.

The fixation brace for his broken ribs bulged under his skin, and the seeping blood stained the bandages.

Alfred stood silently to one side, his brows furrowed.

"Communication...or failure?"

Bruce asked in a hoarse voice.

"All encrypted frequency bands have been lost to the sea, Master Bruce."

Alfred said in a low voice, "The last energy reading we captured exceeded the peak threshold of all our instruments, and it seems that something is interfering with our ability to transmit messages to the superheroes on Mars."

Upon hearing this, Bruce stared intently at the main screen with his bloodshot blue eyes.

He thought he could send a message to the Martian superheroes to stop them, but he failed.

Suddenly!

A cold, serpentine fear slowly crept up his spine.

He suddenly felt that his memories were gradually becoming confused.

It seems that something is being forgotten, something very important, and it is fading from one's memory.

He took a deep breath, the cold air burning his injured lungs.

"Young Master, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I just feel a bit confused. I suddenly forgot something very important, like someone, and it seems like I've forgotten them."

"Never mind, maybe I'm overthinking it."

Bruce nervously reached out and pressed an inconspicuous red button next to the medical platform.

"laugh!"

The sound of the hydraulic system starting up rang out.

A hidden compartment deep within the rock wall slid open, revealing a spare suit of armor inside.

Instead of his usual streamlined gray-black armor, he wore thicker combat armor.

Bruce gritted his teeth and used all his strength to lift his battered body off the medical platform.

A sharp pain shot through his body like an electric current, his vision blurred, and cold sweat soaked through his black hair.

He staggered toward the heavier suit of armor.

"Young Master, I don't think your current physical condition is suitable for you to fight."

"Alfred said worriedly."

"But they need me."

Bruce said in a low voice.

He raised his head and gazed into the pitch-black night.

The feeling of unease continued to linger in his mind.

What have I forgotten?!

Paradise Island.

Even the azure Aegean Sea could not soothe the heaviness in Diana's heart at this moment.

Standing on the ancient watchtower, her gaze was fixed on the hustle and bustle of the human world in the distance.

She had to do something to stop the world from becoming increasingly chaotic.

The next day.

United Nations General Assembly Hall.

Under the enormous dome, representatives from all over the world gathered together, the air thick with tension and unease.

Rumors of the superheroes' mass disappearance have been rampant, and panic has spread like a plague.

The shadow of war looms over several hotspots.

Diana Prince stood on the podium.

At this moment, she was not wearing armor, but a simple and dignified dark suit, with the golden Lasso of Truth tied around her waist like a magnificent belt.

"...Fear blinds us, and suspicion severs our bonds!"

Diana's voice, clearly transmitted through the microphone, resounded throughout the hall: "Look out the window. Our world is so beautiful, so fragile. It needs our collective protection, not to be pushed into the abyss of destruction in pointless disputes."

She looked around at the various faces below, faces driven by national interests, historical hatred, and immediate panic.

"The threat of war hangs overhead, but true destruction often begins with the division within our own hearts. Lay down our weapons, stop the standoff, and let reason and peaceful dialogue once again become the main theme of human civilization. We..."

Diana's words were incredibly moving.

Some of the delegates were moved by her sincerity and strength, and their eyes showed a thoughtful expression.

at the same time.

Washington, D.C., in a completely isolated observation room.

The huge circular screen is divided into countless surveillance images.

The clearest image in the center is the live feed of Diana's speech inside the UN General Assembly Hall.

Adrian Witt, the former "Pharaoh," sits solemnly in front of the screen.

He wore an elegant silk robe, his face was calm, and his eyes were deep.

On the screen, Diana's speech was reaching its climax, calling for unity and peace.

Witt's finger hovered above a red "Confirm" button on the console.

His face was expressionless, showing only an almost cold, calculating look.

The silence of Mars, the fall of heroes, the chaos of the human world... all of this is part of the unfolding of his grand plan.

Diana's peace appeal?

That was just a discordant note destined to be drowned out in a chaotic symphony.

"Order... requires complete chaos to be restored."

Witt muttered to himself.

The next second, his fingertip steadily pressed down on the red "OK" button.

The United Nations General Assembly Hall. Diana's words still echoed: "...unity is needed more than ever before..."

As the Pharaoh pressed the button, a loud "boom" rang out!
The deafening roar was like the sky collapsing and the earth splitting open.

The magnificent dome of the assembly hall was forcibly torn open by an unparalleled force.

Huge blocks of reinforced concrete, broken steel beams, and shattered glass poured down like a torrential rain.

Sunlight and dust rushed in instantly.

Screams, cries, and the sounds of tables and chairs overturning instantly drowned out Diana's voice.

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, a colossal, suffocating figure appeared at the gaping hole in the torn dome.

The opponent had bulging muscles, rock-gray skin, and was over ten meters tall.

The giant woman's face was contorted with rage as she let out a deafening roar, her enormous fist slamming down on the chaotic crowd below.

But this is just the beginning!
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The sturdy walls surrounding the assembly hall were smashed open one after another, as if they were made of paper.

Countless ferocious figures rushed into the venue.

Shabak, shrouded in the power of ancient Egyptian gods; Ismail, who wields magnetism; and the snake woman, who releases deadly smoke—all these villainous superheroes launched an attack on the United Nations Hall.

Even more superhuman beings with ferocious appearances and different abilities descended upon this highest hall symbolizing human peace, led by Black Adam, who was draped in a black cloak and exuded a thunderous aura.

Black Adam hovered in mid-air, looking down at the chaos and panic below.

His deep voice, like muffled thunder, resounded throughout the shattered hall:

"The age of the old gods has ended. Humanity's order... is up to us to reshape. Kneel, or... be destroyed!"

The chaos escalated instantly!

The UN representatives fled in terror, only to be mercilessly reaped by the collapsing ruins and superhuman, terrifying abilities.

Upon seeing this, Diana's eyes widened in horror!
"No!"

The Amazon princess roared, and the golden lasso of truth shot out from her waist, wrapping around the giant woman's massive wrist as she slammed down.

With a loud "bang," Diana's divine power erupted, forcefully stopping the opponent's devastating fist.

Diana then exerted all her strength, trying to pull the giant woman away from the crowd.

Before she could subdue the giant woman, attacks from other superhumans surged in from all directions.

Diana gritted her teeth, her fists and feet imbued with divine power, clashing fiercely with Shabak's magical energy, Ismail's metal storm, and the snake woman's poisonous mist.

Having temporarily repelled the other superhumans, Diana angrily asked Black Adam, "Do you want to start a war, Black Adam?"

"Start a war?"

Black Adam shook his head dismissively. "You're wrong, Amazonian princess. The war has already begun. Because of the theory of superhumans, governments and human traffickers have started to arrest and kidnap superhumans. Oppressed, they have turned to Kandak as their last refuge."

"Now, their king—I—will lead them to reclaim what they have lost!"

Looking at Black Adam giving his speech from the air, Diana glared at him and said, "You'll never get one!"

Diana fighting against Black Adam and others.

Red Square, Moscow, Russia.

After the terrifying explosion in Red Square, Clark, dragging his wounded body, left Moscow and sought refuge in other Moscow cities.

He originally planned to return to Smallville immediately, but he accidentally passed out due to his injury and has only just woken up.

Clutching his throbbing forehead, Clark decided to return to Dosmowell.

All he wants to do now is return to the place that can give him his only peace—Smolwell.

The Lonely Fortress is too cold.

The metropolis is too noisy.

Only Smallwell, the farm, that home with the scent of earth and hay, could soothe the turmoil in his heart.

A dozen minutes later, Clark landed silently beside the familiar cornfield on the edge of the farm.

Clark pushed open the door to Kent Farm, took a deep breath of the cool Kansas evening air, and looked forward to seeing the warm lights of the barn, smelling the aroma of Martha's baked apple pie, and hearing Jonathan's hearty laughter.

He started walking towards the farmhouse.

Then, Clark abruptly stopped in his tracks.

The scene before him was like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, instantly freezing his blood.

Before me lay a desolate, lifeless wasteland.

The Kent farmhouse I remembered, painted a warm white, with a red roof and a wide porch, is gone.

All that remains is the outline of a foundation, wildly swallowed by weeds, with a few charred, rotten pieces of wood half-buried in the soil, telling tales of sorrow forgotten by time.

As for the barn
Now only a few dilapidated brick walls, crumbling and covered with vines, remain.

The once neat cornfields have been transformed into a wild field overgrown with miscellaneous trees and thorns.

The wind whistled through the ruins.

"No...this is impossible..."

Clark muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.

He staggered forward, his feet sinking into broken rubble and overgrown weeds.

He saw the familiar old oak tree, but half of it was dead and the other half was sparsely covered with leaves.

He frantically searched through the overgrown weeds, relying on his memory.

Finally, in a corner half-hidden by weeds, he found it.

Two simple, weathered tombstones side by side.

"Jonathan Kent: A Loving Father and Husband"

"Martha Kent's loving mother and wife"

His birth and death dates are clearly etched; they passed away the year he graduated from high school.

The floodgates of memory were violently flung open!

A painful memory surged back.

The scene was as clear as if it were yesterday: the rainy night of the high school prom, the blinding headlights, the out-of-control, skidding truck, the car carrying my parents and godfather being violently hit, then rolling and exploding.
A severe headache struck, and Clark clutched his head in agony, kneeling before his parents' gravestones.

"No, no, that's not how it is! Why is it like this?!"

Clark felt this was wrong; he couldn't understand why he had forgotten the deaths of his parents and godfather.
Chaotic fragments of memory assaulted him, followed by a flood of more memories entering his mind.

He not only forgot the deaths of his parents, but also the departure of his godfather.

The cold rain at the funeral, the empty farm, the lonely college years... Peter Patrick, his beloved godfather, the man who could always find him lost in the cornfield, the one who guided him during his confused adolescence, the man who was like a second father... died in that damned car accident along with his parents.

"Why……"

Clark's voice choked with emotion, and hot tears welled up uncontrollably, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto the tombstone, seeping into the barren earth below.

In Clark's current memory, Peter had already died in a car accident, and the father had never appeared.

After Dr. Manhattan modified the timeline again, Peter's existence also changed.

He remained Clark's godfather, but he and Clark's adoptive parents died in a car accident the year Clark went to his high school prom.

As for the other fathers who were worried about their fathers, they never appeared.

In Clark's memory, his godfather was just an ordinary rancher.

"Why am I the only one left..."

Clark looked up, his eyes filled with tears, staring blankly into the distance.

He remembered that it was where Patrick's Farm was located.

Unable to accept this memory, Clark suddenly flew towards Patrick's Farm.

With a "thud," it landed on the ground, and all that could be seen was an unfamiliar, newly developed residential area.

The neat and uniform houses and the manicured lawns were completely different from the somewhat messy but vibrant farm in Peter's memory.

Fence? Barn? Cornfield? Ash trees?
These things seem to have never existed.

A vast, indescribable emptiness, like a cold black hole, instantly swallowed Clark.

Only now did he realize that he had already lost his parents, his godfather, and the home that had been the source of his warm childhood.

The world has become so strange and cold.

He possessed godlike strength, capable of lifting mountains and moving planets, yet he could not find that warm light in his memory, could no longer hear Martha's gentle voice calling him "Clark," could no longer feel Jonathan's strong hand patting his shoulder, and could no longer hear Peter's hearty laughter.

He didn't know how it all happened; the logical chain of his memories seemed flawless.

All he knew was that it felt as if a large chunk of his heart had been ripped out, leaving only a cold, empty void through which the howling wind whistled.

With a thud, Clark knelt down in front of the new residential area, on this desolate land that had buried all his warmth and sense of belonging, and wept bitterly like a lost child.

Tears mingled with Smallwell's soil, dripping onto the last remaining wreckage.

He didn't know why he was crying.

Is it for deceased relatives?
Is it for a lost homeland?

Or is it because of that inexplicable, overwhelming sadness deep in my heart, as if I've lost something more important than life itself?
The withered grass swayed in the wind, like a silent sigh.

The afterglow of the setting sun elongated Clark's lonely, kneeling figure.

While Clark was crying, Raven, Louise, and Courtney watched him from a distance.

At this moment, Raven, seeing the scene before her, was also in tears, just like Clark.

(End of this chapter)