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

Page 143

Just at this time.

Hannibal quietly turned off the tape recorder.

The room was suddenly filled only with Bach's melody from the phonograph.

"..."

Ian was rendered silent.

The sound of the chainsaw in the recording still seems to echo in my ears.

He unconsciously swallowed.

"Your expression tells me you know this person." Hannibal's deep brown eyes were incredibly unfathomable; he wasn't using a question but a statement.

"Ok?"

Ian's fingers unconsciously rubbed the water droplets on the glass.

The cool touch calmed him down a little.

“He’s just a crazy, obsessive fan of mine who wrote me letters, but I don’t actually know him that well.” Ian knew he had to painfully cut ties with his fan.

This is, after all, an incident that appears to be a massacre.

"Is that so?" Hannibal's pen paused on the paper, the ink spreading into a deep blue flower on the expensive parchment. He looked Ian up and down with a strange gaze for a moment.

"I'm surprised you didn't feel any guilt or torment because of this," Hannibal said in a deep, powerful voice, with a thoughtful tone.

“Why should I feel guilty? Batman should feel guilty for not capturing and imprisoning his nemesis.” Ian’s expression was more serious than ever before.

His thinking was not swayed by Hannibal's questions.

“You heard it too, didn’t you? This person said he only wanted to kill because he couldn’t see my book. This proves that he didn’t want to kill when he was reading my book. God must know how many people escaped the jaws of death because of this.” Ian’s tone was unusually serious. This time, he was truly convinced that he had done a great deed.

"Maybe so."

Hannibal nodded slightly.

There was no retort.

He didn't even take many notes in his notebook.

The Joker is under Batman's control.

Even people outside of Gotham know this is common knowledge.

"However, you should also remain vigilant."

suddenly.

Hannibal then abruptly reminded Ian, "Have you ever considered that in order to see your story every day, this fan might eventually kidnap you?"

This is a concern that only an ordinary person would have.

Ian nodded.

However, there was no response.

"Actually, there's another possibility: even your wealthy elders can't protect you. In order to keep that man at bay in the long term, Batman might capture you..."

Hannibal was about to offer some of his speculations.

"boom!!!"

suddenly.

Accompanied by a violent explosion.

The entire building shook violently.

"Missile attack?"

Hannibal's collection of crystal glasses clattered together, producing a crisp, mournful sound; hardcover books on the bookshelf crashed to the ground with a clatter; even the doctor was shaken and knocked to the ground.

"Whoosh~"

Ian rushed to the window almost instinctively, slamming his hand against the cold glass.

"It's not a missile."

He denied it.

His pupils swayed violently at that moment.

"It's a supernatural disaster..."

Ian's voice was filled with barely concealed shock.

His pupils were reflecting light.

The distant streets seemed to be collapsing beyond reality, streetlights bending at impossible angles. Countless concrete fragments defied the laws of gravity, suspended in mid-air like an explosion scene frozen in time. At the eye of the storm, an elderly woman with white hair struggled painfully, suspended in mid-air.

Around her body.

The space was twisted and deformed like crumpled tin foil.

There were no flames, no smoke; all the changes were spreading outward from the old woman, like a drop of ink slowly spreading in clear water. This was a terrifying eruption caused by uncontrolled power!

"The power of dreams! Could it be that Morpheus is in trouble again?"

Ian's mind raced, and he nearly lost control of his expression. He could see ripples from his dream engulfing the street, surging towards his building like a tidal wave. The instant several pedestrians were affected, their bodies became translucent, shimmering stardust appearing beneath their skin, as if being absorbed by a terrifying force!

"Ahhhh!"

Painful howls echoed throughout.

The white-haired old woman hovered hundreds of meters above the ground, her body twisting.

Layers of translucent ripples spread outward from her center, like ripples on the surface of water. With each ripple, the distortion of reality spreads outward.

"Little guy, you know about this again and again... then is there anything you don't know?"

A voice sounded behind him, and Ian turned around sharply—only to see an elegant woman dressed in black sitting in the armchair where Hannibal should have been.

Ian was dumbfounded.

outside the window.

The old woman's body continued to emanate layers upon layers of dream power.

"Tsk tsk, some people, if they weren't so shameless, they should be feeling guilty right now."

The woman who had usurped the position placed her pale hands on her knees, turned her chair around to face Ian, her eyes dark and her tone tinged with a hint of wistfulness and amusement.

He is.

Miss Death.

Chapter 108 Crazy Upgrade! Saving the Dream God! [20k]

Miss Death wants to evoke Ian's guilt.

however.

This is impossible.

“I have no guilt. Morpheus was captured because he liked being captured. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.” Ian’s logic was serious and rigorous.

"Also, that witch captured Morpheus, the god of dreams, and made him fill her up—no, make her explode. Shouldn't Lucifer be the one who feels guilty about that?" He didn't know who had told him that it was always right to blame the Lord of Hell for all the bad things that happened on Earth. Lucifer had been a professional scapegoat in DC for many, many years.

"Oh? Is that so?"

Miss Death's attitude towards Ian didn't seem strange.

“Of course, I have many identities, but I’m obviously not a scapegoat.” Ian blinked, still maintaining his sober mind even when facing Miss Death.

In this regard.

Miss Death simply chuckled and nodded.

“I admit there’s some truth to what you said. Perhaps we can blame this whole thing on the world’s first riddle-maker, Fate.”

She even went so far as to draw parallels, her words laced with personal agendas. To be fair, Ian thought that Miss Death's appearance in Hannibal's office probably meant she should also see a psychiatrist. Resolving family conflicts is a psychiatrist's main source of income and also their forte.

"Do you remember I told you to investigate this thoroughly?" The outside world is experiencing a huge accident, but Miss Death doesn't seem to be in a big hurry about it.

She's not in a hurry.

Ian couldn't rush things either, because the atmosphere was clearly not right yet.

"Can not remember."

Ian begins using today's dose of lies.

He still has a whole host of lies to tell Miss Death all day.

of course.

Perhaps we won't need that many shares.

after all.

"..."

Miss Death has fallen silent.

Outside, the old witch's absorption of the power of the Sandman continued to spiral out of control, with turbulent dream power constantly crashing outwards, and rings of dream power surging into the room like boiling lava.

A violent tremor occurred, unrelated to geography; the entire space was shaking. The oil paintings on the wall tilted, as if the whole world was becoming distorted.

"Oh! It's out!"

Hannibal's collection of mannequins began to contort, and a talking rabbit doll emerged from the plaster skull.

"Help! I've escaped from 'Alice Sleeps in Wonderland'!" it cried out to Ian, but he ignored it, unwilling to acknowledge any connection between the dream and himself. The reason for this dream's manifestation wasn't that Miss Death was inherently evil, but rather that Hannibal harbored malicious intentions.

"Morpheus's power is going berserk; you need to deal with that foolish witch."

Miss Death glanced at the rabbit that had crawled out, and the rabbit reflected in the dream instantly withered, melted into a lump of paste, and returned to the plaster model head.

"Don't let her disturb my rest."

She's still a mature and sophisticated woman.

The tone and demeanor were perfectly captured.