American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 105 The Great Source! Ian's Magic! [11k]

The night in Gotham is always so deep.

Batman is the city's eternal symbol. On the other end of the phone, Ian frowned as he listened to the howls of the Gotham monsters and whispered to Batman.

"Is this what Gotham father-son time is like... You Gotham people are really strange." His exceptional hearing had already detected the oddity in the chaotic background noise on the other end of the phone.

This may also be related to the excellent sound quality of the phone Batman gave him.

"Hmm?" Batman didn't stop, but his voice still came through the phone, "With this help you've received, can you still monitor me through your phone?"

What a suspicious Gotham weirdo.

Ian heard the sound of Batman disassembling the phone to inspect it.

"I'm simply using my super hearing to distinguish things. Even though I don't hit people often, I can tell the difference between hitting someone with two hands and hitting someone with four hands."

Ian believed that Batman wouldn't suddenly grow four arms overnight. After all, Batman isn't a Pokémon; he wouldn't evolve into Gotham's Mighty just by drinking a few more mouthfuls of Gotham's poisonous water.

"..."

There was no response on the other end of the phone, only the sounds of more intense fighting. Ian could even imagine Batman striking without mercy, while the children beside him imitated him.

The most authentic gangster culture in Gotham might start from childhood.

"There aren't many people who can help you, but I'll find out who it is." Batman seemed to be taking a break from fighting, and he made a "guarantee" to Ian in a deep voice while holding the phone.

"I don't think you'll find it."

Ian is honest.

But Batman has never really liked his honesty.

"We'll wait and see."

After Batman finished speaking confidently, he immediately hung up the phone with Ian—only to find that he couldn't hang up, and he fell into a deep silence again.

This is how people who use technology too much breathe.

Ian wasn't surprised.

Batman seems to only be able to vent his anger on the villains who think the "game" is over.

We still don't know who this poor villain is.

"Liar, you're all liars! Cherry blossoms don't fall from the sky when you're angry!"

"The clown has ruined me!"

……

Before Batman removed the battery and smashed the phone, Ian could only hear this unnamed villain wailing at Batman in a voice that sounded like his dreams had been shattered.

It turned out to be the case.

“I knew Gothamites wouldn’t make a sound when they got beaten up. So the crying was just because their dreams were shattered.” Ian suddenly realized, and his stereotypes about Gotham resurfaced.

"They're clearly using iris petals; it's obvious they haven't been reading my book properly. Fans like that are just inferior." Ian put away the magic black box that his new teacher, Tony, had given him.

Moonlight streamed in through the gaps in the curtains.

Draw a silver line on the floor.

He stared at the light for a while, not continuing to work on the drawing. After all, he had already earned the money, so he naturally became complacent, just like some online writers who would disappear for a day or two after receiving their royalties.

of course.

Ian is not that kind of vulgar author.

However, a little laziness is still his inescapable professional fate.

“Speaking of professions, I remember I have one more profession I haven’t unlocked yet.” Ian pressed the alcohol bottle and squeezed out some disinfectant to wipe his hands and face.

This is to avoid having bad luck and encountering frustrating job change requirements.

starting today.

He's starting to trust metaphysics a little more. Of course, science should also be believed in, so there's no bathing or changing process; wiping the whole body with alcohol is much purer than bathing and changing clothes.

Do it all.

Ian then set off... well, actually he didn't set off a fire, he just opened his personal panel and switched to the career selection interface.

[New class unlocked]

Currently available professions: 1

[Lord of Entropy Annihilation: When the cloak stirs up the folds of spacetime and the scepter shatters the dimensional barriers, the entire world will become a footnote to its power in the elegy of entropy annihilation.]

The only icon to be unlocked kept flashing, and the name of the class to be unlocked, "Entropy Annihilation Lord," was very eye-catching. The class descriptions provided by the system always looked so exciting.

"Actually, instead of this kind of introduction, it would be better to set a grand goal, which is to make Planet Eater a knock-off of Ian." Ian tried to persuade his system to change the job description.

This way.

The moment arrived when Superman was called a bootleg Ian.

He can then shift all the blame onto the system.

The plan is good.

But the system didn't fall for it.

It maintained its usual aloof attitude and did not respond to any of Ian's words.

"Boring."

Ian sighed, selected the [Entropy Lord] option, and bound the class. Like the [Savage Tyrant] class, it didn't set any entry requirements for Ian as a third class.

All that remained was the job change quest triggered on the spot. With Ian's confirmation, lines of text appeared instantly, exceptionally clear in the field of vision that only he could see.

[Job Change Requirements: Maintain a state of hunger for 48 hours, then consume any planetary metal minerals.]

Such job change conditions seem a bit harsh, and in fact they are indeed very harsh. Metal minerals are relatively easy to deal with, after all, Earth should be one of any planet.

However, the 48-hour hunger strike was definitely the most tedious job change quest Ian had ever encountered, and he could even feel the deep malice from the starving people on the planet.

“I’ve seen the bad news, so here’s the good news…” Ian looked at the countdown in the lower left corner of his vision. The countdown of [43:32] was obviously the good news.

The law of conservation of luck remains true as always.

The time he spends in the Marvel Universe will also be counted in this hunger countdown. Of course, even so, the ever-gluttonous Ian feels that this ordeal is definitely the biggest challenge he has ever faced in his life.

"It's practically an attempt to starve you, Mr. Ian." Ian would occasionally try to talk to the system, not because he was lonely, but because he was constantly trying to manipulate his system.

and.

He still had many guesses about this system.

"You must be the Pangu car engine that crashed into my Great Fortune Celestial Venerable!" With no response to his probing, Ian, who had originally planned to go to the kitchen to get something to eat, could only lie back down on the bed.

“Abyss Barrel, it’s your turn to be the Abyss Sound System…” Ian couldn’t sleep, so he asked the demon head to sing him a lullaby, but the thing’s lousy voice was even worse than his.

"Ah~ah~ah~"

The demon head began to sing with great passion.

"Baby~ it's broken now~ my dear~ little sacrifice~~~"

It began to howl with a voice comparable to a rusty door hinge.

"Damn it! I wanted a lullaby!" Ian didn't dare use his socks to gag the demon head, since the demon head, which had awakened some strange attributes, might think it was a reward.

"This is what a lullaby in hell sounds like."

After hearing Ian's reprimand, the demon's head looked utterly aggrieved on its wrinkled, bull-like face. It was hard to imagine that it was a bull that had grown up listening to such things.

"Shut up, shut up."

Ian didn't dare listen any further.

And at this time.

"Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop~"

outside the window.

Suddenly, Hellcat's car music started playing—a classic American lullaby, "Rock-a-Bye Baby." Perhaps it had been eavesdropping on Ian's room all along.

The sound quality is excellent.

It's comparable to a vinyl record.

The rivalry between demons is so simple and unpretentious.

"That's more like it."

Ian didn't blame Hellcat for eavesdropping. He was very empathetic and knew how difficult it was for a hardworking and ambitious sycophant. He had never been a sycophant, but he had several sycophants at school.

At least the Hellcat didn't want to sleep with him, so he was willing to empathize with it.

"Great God Ian, I have felt your divine power, and it will surely grant me perfect singing ability." The demon head was clearly unwilling to have its attention stolen.

He wanted a second chance.

And Ian's gifts.

"is it?"

Ian still couldn't sleep, tossing and turning. He couldn't help but wonder if Tony Stark was really a thing of the past, and if there would never be a man who would call him Iron Man again.
We had only known each other for a short time.

There's definitely not much emotion involved.

Simply because this is not the Marvel Cinematic Universe that Ian wanted to see.

and so.

The boy seemed slightly annoyed.

"I sensed... your magical power belonging to a demon god... although it wasn't much, it must be you testing my ability to observe details." The demon head opened its turbid eyes, believing they contained wisdom, its voice hoarse and awe-inspiring.

"magic?"

Ian remembered Tony saying that he would become the "source" of a new force, and he sat up abruptly from the bed, instantly becoming energetic.

"So, what does it feel like to have magic?"

Since returning to DC, Ian has actually noticed a change in himself, but he can't quite put his finger on what that change is. It's just that his head feels like it's been filled with water, giving him a chilly feeling.

"Um, what does it feel like to have magic?" The demon head was silent for a moment, seemingly racking its brains to explain the experience of a different dimension to a human.

Finally, it gave a dry reply.

"I suppose... having plenty of magic means being full, and lacking it means being hungry?"

The bull-headed demon's words were as good as saying nothing at all.

"I should really give you a horse's mouth." He rolled out of bed, his bare feet touching the cold floor, and went to his desk, turning on his desk lamp again.

A warm yellow halo carved out a small area in the darkness.

"If I remember correctly, this book is said to be able to create things that don't exist?" Ian still remembered what the Hell Prince said before he became the "Spicy Prince" snack.

He pulled out the book "Ian's Book of Creation" from behind his back—the cover was still that chaotic one, but now it had a tiny bit of golden light on it.

"A greater source?"

Ian picked up his pen to draw, but as soon as the pen tip touched the paper, the ink seemed to be wiped away by some invisible force, quickly dissipating. Ian frowned and tried again.

The result remained the same.

at this time.

Perhaps sensing Ian's displeasure, a line of bold text suddenly appeared on the page:
Ian's Misuse of the Book of Creation

The self-aware book even enlarged the font size, as if afraid Ian wouldn't see it. In his anger, he simply threw it into his mouth and chewed it up. This is, at least, something that could really happen, according to this book.

"Huh? I used it wrong? It's only you who are wrong!" After Ian finished speaking, he saw that the name of "Ian's Misused Book of Creation" had changed to "Ian's Book of Self-Reflection".

have to say.

It's the fastest to admit defeat.

They weren't even as stubborn as they could be.

"..."

Ian felt a lack of accomplishment.

"You're only fit to sit at the same table as that head."

He slammed the book shut, turned around, and stuffed it into the cabinet where the demon's head was. "If you dare to give birth to a litter of demon babies for me, I guarantee something really, really bad will happen."

This is to prevent problems before they occur.

After all, humanity still doesn't know how demons reproduce.

"?????"

Under the gaze of the demon's head and the book with a round, bulging eye, Ian walked back to the bedside. He had barely lain down for two seconds when he threw back the covers and ran to the desk again.

I didn't touch that tattered book.

He simply took out a piece of ordinary drawing paper, spread it out, and flattened it.

"How will you know if you don't try?" Ian twirled the paintbrush between his fingers, stared at the blank paper, remained silent for a moment, and then began to write.

One stroke, one line.

The pen tip lightly touches the paper.

The moment the first line fell, it seemed to awaken some long-dormant memory.

"At least, I tried my best."

As Ian adjusted the different colored brushes, the outline of a red and gold armored vehicle gradually emerged, the blue light of the arc reactor spreading across the paper. The lamplight shone on the paper, coating the lines of mortals and steel with a soft, warm hue, as if they would leap off the page at any moment.

[You are currently creating a work; Writer Experience +1]

[You are currently creating a work; Writer Experience +1]

[You are currently creating a work; Writer Experience +1]

……

This is the story of Iron Man.

The night outside the window was deep, with occasional rustling sounds from the treetops. Ian didn't stop sketching, continuing to outline, as if the lines and shadows could find their own direction to extend.

To paint the world with a pen.

Every stroke is a memory.

Each stroke is a unique connection.

The boy didn't sleep all night.

Outside the window, the first rays of morning light pierced through the clouds, landing perfectly on each painting. In the interplay of light and shadow, Ian's career as a writer also experienced another upgrade at this moment.

[Author LV3 [1/40]]

"No one knows how difficult it is for me to suppress my extraordinary talent... Don't disappoint me too much." Ian stopped writing, checked the time, and then grabbed a hard drive from the table.

This is something he brought back from the Marvel universe.

The new Tony Stark's knowledge base is not as good as Tony Stark's; the technical information he provides is almost entirely military products. Without Tony Stark, the Stark Industries is a complete military enterprise.

Before the time is right.

Ian did not feel he had the capability to manufacture military supplies.

It's not that he lacks the relevant background, but if he dares to say that he's about to start a company to manufacture weapons of mass destruction, his father will definitely let him know what real weapons of mass destruction are.

This is what happens even though they're not adults.

Once you're an adult, what else do you want to create?
"The invincible Ian Cyclone Super Invincible Thunder Missile will only have a chance to be brought out and illuminate the world after I trick Jonathan into becoming the legal representative of my company."

Ian knew where to keep something so precious.

"Dong Dong Dong~"

He knocked on his parents' bedroom door, and after receiving a response, he opened the door and, under the watchful eyes of both of them, stepped inside and crawled straight under their bed.

"Ian, what are you doing? Did you forget to say good morning?" Louise's head drooped off the bed, her long hair trailing on the floor, looking extremely messy.

She stared at Ian under the bed like Sadako.

"No, do you know how tiring it is to lay a floor?" The second head to peek out belonged to Clark, whose expression was just as bewildered as Louise's.

The two watched as Ian pried open the floorboards and shoved a dark hard drive inside. Then, the prepared boy began repairing the area under the bed.

"I hope it's not a bomb."

Louise reached out to the bedside but couldn't find the "rational potion".

"I just accumulated some knowledge."

Ian responded honestly, and his "floor-laying" work was carried out very quickly. He even affixed a special seal to prevent Clark from inspecting it after he left.

[Whoever peeks will have to step in kryptonite and pig poop every day.] Actually, this is just a declaration; at least the parents in this family have always respected the privacy that children value.

"..."

"..."

Clark and Louise turned their heads at the same time, hanging upside down and staring at each other, as if communicating with their eyes. Clark spoke on Louise's behalf and asked a question.

"Is the knowledge you're referring to the kind of knowledge we all understand, or the knowledge that Jonathan 'passed down' to you?" Clark asked cautiously, using extremely euphemistic language.

"It's probably the kind of knowledge that can create a radiant world, allowing everyone to radiate like the Eastern Sea, and whose lifespan is as short as a fleeting flower." Ian crawled out from under the bed.

His American idioms are not standard.

Therefore, neither of the two top students could figure it out.

"What is he saying?"

“If you can get me a bottle of wine at super speed, I’ll definitely understand.” Louise and Clark watched as Ian stood up and dashed out of the room.

“Even Batman can’t steal my hard drive.” Ian was convinced of this, because his father’s secret stash of money was also hidden in a corner of the room, so Clark was definitely listening in 24 hours a day.

This is the safest place in the world.

The Kent family members are all adept at finding their own solitude. It wasn't just the youngest son; Ian, as soon as he stepped out of his parents' room, heard his older brother Jordan renovating.

The foolish little brother actually thought that soundproofing the whole house could deal with Superman's super hearing—what do you call that? That's called being ignorant and incompetent; not studying physics properly has led to this kind of behavior.

The ads said it could defend against Superman, and Jordan actually believed it.

"They're just taking advantage of the fact that the superheroes don't dare to sue them." Ian sighed at the capitalists' cunning. Before he even got back to his room, he found his dad standing in front of him.

"Why isn't my super vision activated...?"

Ian was completely taken aback, feeling that Clark was even faster than before, which was not scientific at all, and even from a metaphysical perspective, he felt that it did not make sense.

What's wrong with your eyes?

Clark had noticed Ian's unusual behavior long ago, and Louise even said that Ian was playing with colored contact lenses, but only he could see clearly that there was no foreign object in Ian's eyes at all.

Those golden, sparkling eyes belonged to Ian.

"I have awakened again."

Ian began to tell his part of the truth for the day.

Hear the words.

Clark immediately became alert.

"What awakened?" Not only did his expression change, but his entire face changed—the poor old man had only been in bed for less than two hours.

He didn't want to cause any more misunderstandings.

There's no need to look back.

Clark had already sensed that Louise was leaning against the door frame.

The old father glared furiously at Ian.

It's really crazy.

They'd wink and make faces at you, like they'd be willing to spend two days in Arkham.

"What I awakened was my potential as a Super Saiyan. Do you know what a Super Saiyan is? If you don't, I'll draw one for you tomorrow when I have some free time. As warriors who maintain peace in the universe, Saiyans from Nebula M78 often project their bloodline into qualified Earthlings for various reasons."

“Of course, accepting this bloodline means that I will also have to deal with all kinds of monsters invading Earth in the future.” Ian received the hint that his father was almost accessible to Pluto.

"Is that right?"

Louise was stunned by Ian's earnest explanation.

"Of course it is!"

Clark's tone was firm and powerful. He didn't care about Saiyans or not; as long as they weren't Kryptonians, they were good. Just because he didn't understand didn't mean he wouldn't stand firmly on Ian's side.

"It's just fighting monsters, not turning into monsters. It doesn't sound that worrying, does it?" Louise stared into Ian's golden eyes but didn't detect anything bad.

"Hmm, my mutant is very environmentally friendly. If you don't believe me, I can go downstairs and boil a kettle of water for you."

Ian nodded. He was still very considerate. He had become a Super Saiyan, which put his father at ease, made his mother happy, and gave everyone a bright future. The whole family would win together.

"Forget it, forget it, let me boil the water. You two get ready, don't wander around in your pajamas." Louise threw on a bathrobe and rushed downstairs.

Ian didn't know whether the refrigerator door was open or not.

But both he and Clark heard the sound of the wine cabinet door opening.

"Oh, I see. I understand now."

Louise seemed to finally understand Ian's words completely.

Very reasonable.

After all, Reasonable Man has already grasped her loyal alcohol.

……

Breakfast was an oatmeal and bacon sandwich.

Whether it tastes good or not, Ian has no food to eat.

"I can still evolve, but I need to go hungry for a while..." It was quite rare for Ian to speak so much truth so early in the morning. He reluctantly refused the sandwich his mother offered him.

"Why hasn't Miss Death come to find me yet?"

Ian looked around but couldn't find anyone to feed. He looked helplessly towards the second floor. "Jordan isn't eating breakfast because he's testing the soundproofing system in his room."

"Where's Jonathan?" Ian was slightly puzzled when he couldn't find his older brother. After all, according to usual, Jonathan should have been up and starting to mix protein powder by now.

"He left home at six in the morning, saying he was going to go to the church." Clark knew his son's whereabouts perfectly well, and after a moment of silence, he added.

"He is indeed in the church now."

This was clearly a confirmation made using his own abilities. Ian truly pitied his second brother, but the brother was also lucky; at least he didn't yet know just how abnormal his father's hearing was.

“We both need to work overtime today, so you’d better not go out again and bring back any weird stuff,” Clark said earnestly.

"Ah."

Ian nodded.

He did not refute his father's idea.

however.

“Hey! How can you say Ian’s car is weird? She’s so cool!” Louise retorted while nudging Clark’s shoulder.

Clark then leaned on the table to provide Louise with emotional support.

"dudu~"

The sound of Hellcats horns blared outside.

"It's going to rain tonight, so you'd better come back and help Ian build a room for his car in the yard. Don't let the relentless rain ruin my son's beloved toy car."

Louise, after drinking, becomes quite assertive.

"Ah."

Clark nodded, leaning on the table.

"Thank you dad."

Ian quickly thanked him.

"It's nothing, it's just a carport, we can set it up easily."

Clark is attempting to mislead.

“It’s a room! It’s a member of our family now, isn’t it? It’s a girl, it told me that last night… using its car radio.”

Louise corrected Clark's statement.

“I knew my car was a female cat! I could tell from day one!” Ian was very happy, as he once again proved that he indeed possessed a discerning ability beyond that of ordinary people.

"Okay, one room, I understand."

Clark nodded helplessly.

"So, can I take you to work? You're almost late." He glanced at the time, then picked up Louise, who was still holding a glass of red wine, and disappeared from the room.

Ian, who already considered himself incredibly powerful, didn't even notice the door opening and closing.

"..."

There was silence for a moment.

"They must have broken through the window."

Ian could only console himself with this thought; what else could he do? He thought he had begun to close the gap between himself and his father, but for some reason, he now had the illusion that the gap was widening.

"Dang~"

God must have a grudge against Ian.

Otherwise, why would Ian hear something hitting the window as soon as he lifted it? Any coincidence in the world can always be blamed on God.

"I wonder what Jonathan was doing at the church, dating a Catholic girl?" Ian wondered to himself as he walked toward the source of the noise.

I saw.

The window was tightly closed, and a thin, spiderweb-like crack had appeared on the glass. In the center of the crack, a dark fly was stuck, its six legs twitching incessantly.

"This fly is almost as big as my little finger! What does it eat to grow so fat?" I carefully pinched the fly's back and pulled it out of the crack in the glass.

"The Fly Clan cultivator fought with all his might against the Upper Realm, but unfortunately, he was killed by the immortal." Ian stared at the fly in his hand; the fly was still alive and showed no signs of dying.

The guy even struggled a couple of times on his fingertips.

The wings were buzzing.

The force was somewhat reminiscent of the powerful Fly Clan.

"Wow, it's pretty strong?" Ian raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. He carefully examined the shiny black fly in his hand, feeling that it was different from ordinary flies—the fly's exoskeleton gleamed with an eerie metallic sheen in the sunlight, and its compound eyes were more scarlet than those of ordinary flies.

“That’s when we need to call in the professionals.” Ian remembered that the appearance of demons was always associated with flies, so he believed that there must be a very special bond between the two.

They climbed up the stairs, step by step.

Ian pulled the demon's head out of the cabinet.

“Let me taste this. What’s going on? Is a demon possessing it?” Ian made a reasonable guess, but things didn’t seem to be the same as he imagined.

Before the demon's head could react, Ian shoved a live fly into its mouth. It chewed it a couple of times instinctively, then suddenly its murky pupils contracted.

"Well--!"

It let out a muffled groan that was somewhere between pain and pleasure, then swallowed it. After a long while, it spoke, its voice filled with shock: "That's really powerful. This is definitely not an ordinary fly."

The demon minotaur is spouting nonsense again with an air of certainty.

"Doesn't it smell like the devil?"

Ian pressed for an answer.

"No." The demon head answered honestly. It pondered for a moment, its expression growing increasingly astonished. It even felt a slight increase in its strength.

That was the feeling of digesting some kind of soul.

"It must be a Kryptonian fly."

The demon's tone was unusually certain.

"I have a relative who has eaten the soul of a Kryptonian, and this is exactly what my relative described as the taste." It does have some authority, but it doesn't seem to be too authoritative.

The type I heard from a friend is slightly similar to the one I checked for plagiarism.

"You mean this fly is a super fly that ate my dad's Super Oli Gei, drank my dad's Super Iced Tea, and then grew up little by little?"

Ian frowned, his expression one of disbelief.

The air was suddenly quiet.

"..."

The demonic minotaur remained silent.

A few seconds later, it cautiously opened its mouth.

“Great God Ian, I don’t think that’s the case. A reasonable guess is that it was a mutated fly that escaped from some laboratory.”

"Perhaps your scientists, who are even more insane than demons, used Kryptonian blood to cultivate this fly, and as for the fact that it bred a soul that doesn't belong to it."

The demon's head made a careful analysis.

"Blood is also a bodily fluid."

Ian stroked his chin and thought for a while. He felt that what this guy meant was similar to what he had expressed. As for this kind of plagiarism, he would just give him a slam dunk on the head.

The demon's head dared to cry but dared not speak.

I have absolutely no idea where I went wrong.

really.

Accompanying you is like accompanying a tiger.

The more uneasy the demon felt, the more unpredictable the heart of the Hell Lord became. Thinking this, the demon head saw Ian run out of the room again and begin searching the entire house.

Are there any other flies?

Ian wants to find a second mutated fly.

Especially the toilets.

Ian turned the place upside down. However, after searching for a long time, including outside, he couldn't find a second fly in the house.

We've also looked outside the house.

Not only are there no mutated flies.

They didn't even find any suspicious vehicles.

"Can you spit it out? I think there must be a demon behind it." Ian returned to his room with a hint of helplessness, picked up the demon's head, and softened his tone.

however.

This made the demon's head tremble even more.

"The great God Ian..."

It wanted to cry but had no tears.

Do you think I'm that amazing?

The voice of the demon's head was filled with a sense of cowardice.

It feared this was a new way for Ian to torture himself, but it clearly underestimated Ian's character. Ian didn't act unreasonably; he just sighed and scratched his head.

"I still haven't experienced enough. When I encounter something so strange, I should have let my Uncle Batman taste it first." Ian was genuinely reflecting on his handling of the situation.

The demon minotaur didn't dare to respond and just wanted to change the subject.

"Can you make your second brother stop?" It sighed heavily. Clearly, the soundproofing kit that Jordan bought from who-knows-where hadn't even kept its ears safe.

"It's like this when you first awaken and unlock new gameplay." Ian understood his second brother quite well because he knew that his second brother really had a mental illness accompanied by repression and social anxiety.

Jordan had even seen a psychologist earlier than him, but he kept pretending he hadn't. There was a reason he knew Ian's drugs could be sold at school.

"Hey."

The demon's head sighed again.

"But it's been three hours already."

It was mainly listening to this sound that made it tremble with fear. After all, Ian could only beat and torture it, but the little devil in the other room had much more terrifying intentions towards it.

"You've seen the comic I drew last night, right? Captain America can fight Iron Man all day long, so of course my second brother can fight himself all day long after he awakens."

"Give him time to adjust."

Ian ignored the hesitant Minotaur, silently put on his headphones, and then brought out another demon from the cabinet, which had transformed into "Ian's Book of Creation."

"Finished reflecting? Now it's time to evolve." Ian still needs to go hungry anyway, and since he's just sitting around, he might as well conduct a reasonable study of the resources at his disposal.

Give a little exercise in thinking ability.

Ian immediately realized that language was not the product of thought—the brain was. So, he lowered his head and pressed his forehead firmly against "Ian's Book of Creation."

It was definitely not a lucky accident.

Pure wisdom is at work.

I saw.

Golden light seeped from between the pages, like countless tiny snakes of light slithering across the paper, and Ian's consciousness began to merge with this book from the Demon King's collection.

……

at the same time.

Marvel Universe, Kamar-Taj.

Doctor Strange sat cross-legged at a low table in the library, the magical tomes laid out before him emitting a faint scent of parchment. He was deep in thought with his eyes closed when suddenly, a strange surge of magical energy jolted him awake.

"This is……?"

His gaze was fixed on the book "Ian's Magic Book" on the corner of the table—it was glowing, the golden light flickering like breathing, the pages turning rustling as if calling to him.

"Magic is brewing..."

Doctor Strange frowned, cautiously reaching out to pick up the book. The moment his fingertips touched it, the light on the pages suddenly surged, and a strange magic instantly flowed into his body through his fingertips!

"Oops!"

He instinctively tried to pull his hand away, but found himself unable to move—an invisible contract was rapidly taking shape, magic flowed through his body, and finally left a mark deep within his soul.

"This...this is the connection that guy was talking about with the dimensional demon?!"

Doctor Strange's expression changed drastically. He tried to sever the magical link, but the contract was already complete, like an invisible net that firmly bound his soul.

"Damn it!"

Doctor Strange was shocked; he had never encountered such a situation before—as the Sorcerer Supreme, he was always the one in control of magic, not the one being controlled by it.

The Ancient One is lying again!

"I have to save myself, no, I can't save myself anymore, but maybe that's not a bad thing. After all, that guy said before that this is how mages used to practice magic."

Doctor Strange forced himself to calm down and carefully considered the contents of the contract. It would have been better if he hadn't tried; once he did, the thirty-something-year-old man just wanted to burst into tears.

He froze, as if struck by lightning.

"What do you mean that if I attempt to break the contract, I will be forced to hand over half of my magic power?! And I also have to pay tribute 30% of the magic power I have accumulated through daily cultivation?"

"What the hell! The contract says this is called a magic tax?!" Doctor Strange's pupils contracted sharply, and his fingers trembled slightly. For the first time, the Sorcerer Supreme of this generation experienced what it meant to be ruthless and vicious.

The risks of dealing with dimensional demons are being made known to people in this world for the first time.

"Such a high price?!" Doctor Strange panicked completely, frantically flipping through the pages. "What about the benefits? Wasn't it said that we could borrow power and receive magical gifts?!"

The pages of the book turned with a rustling sound.

On a completely blank page.

Golden words slowly emerged.

As expected, magical power unique to dimensional demons was manifested.

"This……"

Doctor Strange stared intently at the pages of the book.

His brain froze.

"A demon! It really is a demon!" Doctor Strange burst into tears, a real, heart-wrenching wail, his face as white as a blank sheet of paper, untouched by the world.

It has magic.

But would you dare to learn it?

"No! Is this magic that people learn?"

Doctor Strange was utterly devastated. He felt he had been deeply tricked, that it was all a trap, and that such magic could not exist in the world.

Check it out!

Look at the records in this magic book! The first spell that the dimensional demon recorded in the book was actually an attempt to teach someone how to turn their appendix into a storage bag!

Dimensional Demon God.

Is he really mentally sound?
Or do non-human beings think that using the appendix as a storage bag is very useful and fashionable?
……

The cool, damp night breeze of New York City whistled through the skyscrapers. Gwen Stacy sat on the windowsill of her apartment, her legs dangling in the air, hundreds of meters above her. The brightly lit city stretched out beneath her like a fallen galaxy.

She didn't look down; she just sat quietly, her fingers tapping lightly on the window frame, the rhythm casual, like some kind of unconscious habit.

The night breeze ruffled the girl's blonde hair, which shimmered with a silvery sheen in the moonlight.

“Ian…Tony…Spider-Man…” she murmured these names, her voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind, her mind still a jumbled mess of fragmented memories.

"Is that so?"

Whispering softly.

She reached her hand behind her back.

"call out!"

A thin spider silk shot out from her wrist and precisely stuck to the wardrobe door in the corner of the room. However, the wardrobe door, once opened, did not contain what should have been in her fragmented memories.

"What's wrong with me?"

Gwen covered her wrist.

I'm slightly confused.

"Why am I so familiar with the name Spider-Man, and that boy?" She stood up on the balcony, showing no fear of the height below.

"call……"

Gwen took a deep breath, lightly pushed off with her toes, and did what she had done many times in this city—wandering aimlessly with the ability that she didn't know why she had.

Like most people with special abilities, the girl's lack of fear of heights when Ian took her "flying" in the morning was simply because she was already accustomed to high altitudes.

come down.

Her body detached from the windowsill in an instant, gravity yanking her towards the ground. The wind howled in her ears, yet her eyes remained unusually calm. As she plummeted halfway down, Gwen flicked her wrist, sending out a trail of spider silk that clung to the exterior wall of a distant building. Her body momentarily froze, then swung away using the momentum.

"Perhaps I really should do something for this city."

Gwen was like a bolt of lightning, black and white intertwined.

It cuts through the New York night sky.

……

In an old apartment building in Queens.

Peter Parker slammed the door shut, shutting out the noise from the outside world. His breathing was heavy, his fingers clenched unconsciously, and his nails dug deep into his palms.

"Damn it! How dare someone laugh at me!"

His voice was deep and hoarse, like the growl of some wild beast. Without turning on the light, Peter Parker walked straight into the bathroom and slammed his fist on the mirror by the sink.

"Crack——!"

The glass shattered instantly, and spiderweb-like cracks spread from his fist. Blood dripped down his knuckles, but he felt no pain.

The boy slowly raised his head, staring at his shattered reflection in the mirror—

His crimson eyes gleamed in the darkness, and his lips were twisted in a grimace, as if something sharp was trying to pierce his skin and emerge from between his lips. A sharp pain shot through his mouth, and the piercing sensation made the dancing boy arch his back, gripping the edge of the sink tightly with both hands.

"Ugh—!"

Non-severe pain.

"What...is this?" Peter's voice trembled as he reached out to touch his face, his fingertips clearly feeling a strange wriggling beneath his skin.

That is.

Fangs.

……

Evil may not have existed at the beginning of the world.

But it will always be conceived.

of course.

The same goes for justice.

(End of this chapter)