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

Chapter 1025 Please call me Clark Patrick!

A few months later, in the Watchers universe.

The warm breeze from the open kitchen window of the Brooklyn red-brick apartment, a blend of the caramel aroma from the bakery next door and the city's hustle and bustle, drifted in.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled onto the small restaurant floor.

A sweet aroma filled the air—the sound of butter sizzling in a hot iron pan.

Laurel Jasper Jupiter, formerly known as "Silk Soul 2.0", is currently wearing an apron with a cartoon owl printed on it.

Her blonde hair was casually pulled back, with a few stray strands falling around her neck. She was intently watching the pancakes in the frying pan, which were gradually puffing up with golden bubbles, and carefully frying them with a spatula.

Beside her was her husband, Dan Dreberg, the "Night Owl 2.0," dressed in loose gray loungewear with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He had his back to Laurel and was clumsily but earnestly dealing with a pile of strawberries on the counter.

Night Owl II picked up a pea, took a deep sniff, closed his eyes, and showed an almost pious sense of satisfaction on his face before solemnly placing it into the filter basket.

"Sally! Come down for dinner!"

Laurel didn't turn her head, but shouted upstairs.

"Here I come, Mom!"

A clear, childlike voice came from upstairs.

Accompanied by hurried footsteps, a little girl of about seven or eight years old rushed into the restaurant like a whirlwind.

The little girl inherited her mother's blonde hair, which she tied into two energetic pigtails. She hopped and skipped as she ran, her face flushed with the healthy glow of exercise.

She was wearing pajamas with a rainbow unicorn print, her bare feet slapping the floor as she charged toward her father, Dan, with a clear purpose.

Dan happened to turn around, holding a bowl of freshly washed strawberries.

Sally was immediately drawn to the strawberries and pancakes. "Daddy, the strawberries smell so good, and the pancakes smell delicious too. I want to eat three pancakes."

Dan put down the strawberry bowl and gently ruffled Sally's messy blonde hair. "Be careful, or you'll turn into a little fat cat."

Sally giggled, like a kitten that had been tickled.

Just then, the voice of the evening news anchor came from the old-fashioned CRT television in the living room.

"...This station continues to follow the mysterious disappearance of global nuclear arsenals. Following the Pentagon's confirmation yesterday that all of its strategic and tactical nuclear weapons mysteriously disappeared at the same time, the Kremlin, 10 Downing Street, the Élysée Palace and other institutions have issued similar statements."

"Currently, all known nuclear weapons stockpiles worldwide have been confirmed to have completely and utterly disappeared. No organization or individual has claimed responsibility, and no known technology or physical theory can explain this phenomenon. Experts say this event has fundamentally altered the global strategic balance and security landscape..."

Laurel's hand, which was flipping the pancake, paused almost imperceptibly.

The butter sizzled even more loudly in the pan.

She looked up, her gaze meeting Dan's, who was also looking at the television screen.

Without a word, a tacit understanding flowed between their eyes.

Although there was no evidence, they were the only ones who knew the answer while the whole world was in a state of panic and speculation.

That name—Jon Osterman, Dr. Manhattan—struck their hearts like a silent bolt of lightning.

That godlike being ultimately fulfilled his final act of redemption for this scarred world in the most thorough way, erasing the ultimate sword of Damocles hanging over humanity's head.

Dan wanted to say something, but in the end he just took a deep breath, his chest heaving, and then lowered his head to focus more intently on wiping the strawberries with the towel.

"What are nuclear weapons, Mom?"

Sally peeked out from her father's arms and asked curiously, clearly having no concept of the heavy words in the news.

“Something…very, very dangerous, baby.”

Laurel placed a golden pancake onto a preheated plate, trying to keep her voice calm, "It's a good thing it's gone; it means the world is safer."

She handed the plate to Sally. "Here, your first pancake."

Sally's attention was instantly captured by the food. She cheered and carefully took the plate on tiptoe, her eyes sparkling as she stared at the fluffy, fragrant pancake.

"Ding dong!"

The crisp sound of the doorbell suddenly broke the brief silence in the kitchen.

Sally immediately raised her head like an alert fawn, her big eyes sparkling with curiosity: "Someone's knocking!"

Before her parents could speak, she put down the plate and, like a golden lightning bolt, darted past her father, Dan, barefoot, and scurried towards the entrance hall of the living room.

"Sally, put on your slippers!"

Laurel's voice followed, but it was clearly too late.

Sally stood on tiptoe, her little hands struggling to reach the doorknob, and with a "click," she turned it open.

The soft evening light streamed into the entryway, outlining a small figure outside the door.

A little boy was standing outside the door.

The boy looked a year or two older than Sally, wearing a clean but simple blue hoodie and khaki pants, and carrying a small, seemingly empty dark blue backpack.

He had soft, slightly curly black hair, and beneath his bangs were a pair of very distinctive eyes.

His pupils were a deep blue, carrying a calmness and gentleness that did not belong to a child.

He looked a little reserved, but had a friendly and genuine smile on his face.

"Hi," the boy greeted Lisa in a clear voice, "I'm sorry to bother you."

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze passing over Sally, as if trying to look into the room.

“A friend of your parents asked me to come here.”

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, then added, "He said they knew what to do."

Sally tilted her head up, curiously looking at the strange boy with beautiful eyes.

She was completely captivated by those eyes.

She didn't seem to delve too deeply into the boy's words about being a "friend" and "knowing what to do," but simply thought the boy seemed friendly and a little special.

"Okay!"

Sally immediately smiled and warmly stepped aside to make way for the doorway. "Come in quickly, my mom and dad are making pancakes. Would you like to come and eat with us?"

She completely forgot her mother's admonition not to open the door to strangers and was immersed in the excitement of sharing food and new friends.

She even reached out to take the boy's hand, but then shyly withdrew it, only greeting him eagerly.

The boy's smile widened, and the tension seemed to be dispelled by Sally's enthusiasm.

He nodded, stepped into the warm entryway, and politely looked down at the clean soles of his shoes.

"correct!"

Sally seemed to suddenly remember something, puffed out her little chest, and introduced herself with a touch of pride, "My name is Sally! Sally Jaspers-Dreberg, what's your name?"

She asked, her blue eyes filled with anticipation.

The boy stopped and met Sally's curious gaze with an open expression.

He still wore that gentle, friendly smile, and answered clearly, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear:
"Joan calls me Clark."

He tilted his head slightly, as if confirming the address, "Clark Patrick."

DC Universe.

Padrick Farm.

It was dusk at the farm.

The boundless golden waves of wheat undulated in the breeze, stretching all the way to the edge of the burning sunset on the horizon.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasting meat, and the campfire crackled in the open space in front of the barn, its leaping flames licking at the deepening twilight.

Bruce, unusually relaxed, leaned back on a rough wooden bench.

Not far from him, Zatanna's slender fingers danced with several magical orbs of light that changed soft colors, teasing the golden retriever "Murphy" who was running around her legs.

Kara was at the barbecue area, excitedly arguing with Star-Lord about a barbecue sauce recipe, while steadily holding a tray piled high with ribs.

Jane Foster's hearty laughter rang out; she was arm wrestling with Horus.

Horus's gauntlets sank deep into the wooden tabletop, while Jane's arm muscles bulged, and Mjolnir, Thor's hammer, rested casually against the table leg, emitting a low hum.

Ciri sat quietly on a haystack a little further away, polishing her silver sword. The Witcher badge hung quietly around her neck, and occasionally, her gaze would drift toward Peter.

But she was quickly melted by the warmth in front of her, and a slight smile appeared on her lips.

Peter stood by the barbecue grill, turning over the sizzling ribs and corn.

Raven was helping him out, her dark blue hood slipping down to reveal short purple hair.

Bao Bao and Wei were chasing and playing not far away.

Azu is talking to Clark about recent events.

Azu was quite unhappy that Clark had stolen the spotlight this time.

I consider myself a superman, so how come I was so easily defeated by that "blue bald guy" this time?!
Before he could even exert his strength, he withdrew from the battlefield.

In the corner, little Mordred sat sullenly in a chair, clutching her longsword.

She buried her face deeply in her knees, her disheveled blonde hair obscuring her expression. The tip of the massive, somewhat menacing-looking sword was deeply embedded in the earth.

The excitement belongs to others.

And what about her?
All she knows how to do is wield this useless sword.

In reshaping the universe and confronting crises beyond imagination, one's proud power is as insignificant as a speck of dust.

She couldn't help at all.

Frustration and the resentment of being forgotten gnawed at Mordred's heart like venomous snakes, her green pupils gleaming with resentment in the shadows.

I'm not strong enough yet!

But how can we become stronger?
Mordred was in trouble.

I recently saw King Arthur use an attack called "Treasure Artifact" in my dream world. I wonder if I can learn it.

Just as Mordred was contemplating the "Noble Phantasm"
"Buzz!"

A sudden, tearing sound slammed into the tranquil sky above the farm.

The campfire suddenly went dark, then burst into even higher flames.

Everyone's movements froze instantly.

The ribs Kara was holding fell onto Bruce's lap, but Bruce didn't notice. His sharp gaze was fixed on the direction from which the explosion came—the dense woods at the edge of the farm.

Ciri sprang up from the haystack in an instant, her silver sword unsheathed half an inch, and the badge on her chest vibrated wildly, emitting a sharp buzzing sound.

Azu's smile vanished instantly, and he looked toward the woods with a hostile gaze.

Immediately following were several more ear-piercing crackling sounds, carrying a strong magical disturbance.

The space at the edge of the woods rippled and distorted violently, like water with a stone thrown in.

Then three disheveled figures tumbled and crawled out of that distorted space, crashing heavily onto the farm's grass, kicking up a cloud of dust and grass clippings.

At the front was a black-haired boy wearing round-framed glasses and with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter, his face covered in sweat and dust, his glasses askew, his green eyes filled with shock and exhaustion, clutched his holly wand tightly in his hand, the tip of which still glowed faintly red.

A red-haired boy followed closely behind him—Ron Weasley.

Ron's face was deathly pale, and he was panting heavily. He clutched his chest with one hand as if he had a stitch, and gripped his wand tightly with the other. He looked back in horror at the still fluctuating space, his freckles standing out sharply in the firelight.

The one Ron almost dragged out last was Hermione Granger.

Hermione's brown curly hair was disheveled, covered in grass and dirt, and she had several scratches on her face and her lips were tightly pressed together.

Her Hogwarts robes were torn in several places, and she was clutching a bundle wrapped tightly in thick velvet that was constantly wriggling slightly.

"Enemy... hostile tracking, we've been locked on!"

Hermione said urgently.
But soon her gaze fell upon Peter.

In an instant, all the fear and anxiety in Hermione's eyes seemed to find an outlet.

Her lips trembled violently, as if she wanted to say something, but she couldn't make a sound due to her heavy breathing and extreme tension.

Hermione!

Harry struggled to his feet, standing in front of Hermione and Ron, his wand pointing at the distorted space in the woods, his voice trembling with tension.

"They're here, Death Eaters, a lot of them. We can't shake off that tracking curse, it's like a leech, we...we're trapped!"

Harry's green eyes were bloodshot as he spoke excitedly.

Harry didn't realize that he had arrived at the farm.

Ron was the first to notice the people on the farm.

Before he could say anything, the distorted space, like a torn curtain, suddenly burst forth with a blinding green light.

Several figures clad in black robes and wearing pale skull masks emerged with sinister grins, like demons crawling out of a rift in hell.

An ominous, pale green light began to gather wildly at the tip of the newcomer's wand—it was the Killing Curse!
"Avada Kedavra!"

The tall Death Eater at the head let out a hoarse roar, and a ghastly green beam of light, like a viper's hiss, tore through the air and shot straight toward Harry, who was facing away from them and trying to pull Hermione behind him.

Time seemed to freeze.

"court death!"

A cold, explosive shout, like a thunderclap, rang out.

As Azu floated in the air, a terrifying crimson light suddenly burst forth from his eyes.

Two crimson rays, hot enough to melt steel, struck the ghastly green pillar of death curse light with perfect precision, like spears of judgment.

"boom!!!"

The energies of red and green collided violently in mid-air.

It produced a deafening explosion.

A violent energy shockwave swept out like a hurricane, causing the campfire to flicker wildly and the grass to ripple.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were thrown to the ground again by the huge blast wave, and Hermione almost dropped the package she was holding.

The Death Eater's killing curse was completely annihilated by Azu's heat vision.

The immense backlash caused the Death Eater to groan and stagger backward, his eyes beneath the mask filled with terror.

"Don't let them get away!"

Loki's voice rang out.

He appeared in mid-air without anyone noticing, the ice crystal in his hand transforming into a scepter radiating cold energy.

A beam of eerie blue light shot from the tip of the scepter, striking the center of the distorted spatial ripples.

Like throwing a block of solid ice into boiling water, the violently fluctuating space was instantly frozen by a powerful icy magic.

Several Death Eaters who tried to break out later were trapped at the edge of the spatial rift, as if they had run into an invisible ice wall, and let out terrified roars.

"There are many obstacles!"

Harry seized the opportunity to get up, waved his wand, and several invisible walls of barriers instantly rose up in front of him.

"Collapse!"

Ron gritted his teeth and shot out several beams of red light.

"All petrified!"

Hermione reacted even faster, casting a precise petrification spell at a Death Eater trying to bypass the barrier.

However, more Death Eaters poured out of the spatial portal that Loki had forcibly secured.

The light of the spell poured down on the three of them like a torrential rain.

A cunning cutting spell ripped through Ron's arm, and blood instantly stained his sleeve. He cried out in pain.

"Heart-breaking and bone-cutting!"

A chilling voice rang out, and a twisted purple light shot towards Hermione.

At this critical moment——

"Except your weapons!"

An even colder voice rang out.

Then a blinding red light, like lightning, struck Hermione precisely with its own power.

The purple light dissipated instantly.

Tom was the one who made the move.

He had somehow appeared a few steps in front of Hermione, his yew wand pointing steadily toward the Death Eaters.

His pale, handsome face was expressionless, except for the burning rage deep within his pupils.

He then flicked his wand with fluid, deadly movements, unleashing a series of disarming and stunning spells far more powerful than those of ordinary wizards, instantly felling the two Death Eaters charging at the forefront.

the other side.

On the edge of the chaotic battlefield, little Mordred felt utterly worthless.

Having witnessed Hermione nearly being struck by the Crucifixion Curse, an indescribable anger, mixed with a sense of being ignored, rose within young Mordred.

Although I can't teach that "blue bald guy" a lesson right now, I can't let you little minions get away with it!
"Die!!!"

A roar, like that of a wounded beast, burst forth from Mordred's throat.

She sprang up from the chair, gripping her knight's sword tightly with both hands.

The runes engraved on the sword instantly burst forth with dazzling light.

A dark red energy storm, visible to the naked eye and filled with destructive power, exploded outwards from her center.

The energy released by the knight's sword, leaving a dark red trail, crashed wildly into the Death Eaters.

(End of this chapter)