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

Page 117

“Look, citizens.”

He pointed at the live stream camera, held up the blood-stained fabric, and spoke with contempt.

"So-called gods are nothing more than bleeding pieces of flesh."

Amidst the roar of mountains and the tsunami of the sea.

Jonathan, standing in the plaza below, tried to rush forward, but was forced to watch as soldiers along the way held his head down. The scene vanished with a roar.

"Did you see it?"

The voice sounded again.

"You are trying to mislead my mind!"

Jonathan turned to run away, but stumbled into another scene: half a Kryptonian crystal stuck in the scorched farmland, and Louise's rotting finger still clutching the alarm button.

A burly, imposing black alien slowly approached, his shadow gradually enveloping the brand-new stroller, and the crying of the brown-haired, blue-eyed baby inside abruptly ceased.

"Ian!"

Jonathan rushed forward.

His hands only held a pile of empty illusions.

He saw a charred mess inside the stroller, and a burly alien holding Clark's agonizing head. Jordan also lay dead in a haystack not far from his mother, Louise.

"It's fake! It's all fake! You can't fool me! Stop!" Jonathan, unwilling to accept this scene, frantically retreated, falling directly into a complex and chaotic scene.

"Why stop? This isn't intimidation, it's fate—countless possible fates." The voice chuckled, colors surged, and more terrifying images flooded Jonathan like a tide.

Superman was pierced through the chest by a huge, monstrous monster and perished completely—he was transformed into War Machine by a terrifying green monster—and even Clark killed his wife Lois with his own hands.

Each scene was more unacceptable to Jonathan than the last.

He fled in all directions.

But there was nowhere to escape.

I was constantly forced to witness more and more scenes.

"Do not……"

Jonathan finally couldn't hold on any longer, and his willpower crumbled as he slumped to the ground. He saw Clark approaching him with bloodshot eyes, as if he were about to twist off his head at any moment.

"These are all possible futures."

The voice reappeared, fleeting and lingering, the chaotic symphony gradually fading away. Jonathan watched as Superman vanished like smoke, everything instantly enveloped in a joyful scene.

The setting sun bathed the Kent family's barn in gold.

In the distance, Sam Lane's Ferrari drove into the driveway, with an extravagant birthday balloon tied to the roof—the words "Happy 100th Birthday to Myself" swaying in the wind.

Grandma Martha sat there with a smile on her face.

“Look at your father, how much has he embezzled this time?”

Clark sat in a rocking chair on the porch, his temples already streaked with gray, but his smile remained warm. A photo album lay open on his lap, Louise leaned on his shoulder, her finger lightly touching a photograph, and the two laughed simultaneously. Meanwhile, in the yard, the adult Jordan and Ian were repairing the talking Hellcat.

It is now painted red and blue, with a crooked "S" logo printed on the hood.

"Could you please not use thermal soldering on screws?"

Jordan is complaining.

"Last time you melted right through the fuel tank!"

His tone was melancholy.

“No, it was your nephew who did it, not me. If you don’t believe me, I’ll beat him up when I get back tonight, and he’ll definitely admit it.” Ian was just like Jonathan remembered.

They habitually try to shift the blame.

They didn't even spare his own son. Suddenly, Hellcat's radio automatically started playing a country song, and the two young men paused for a second before simultaneously looking at Jonathan, who was slumped on the ground.

"What are you standing there for? Come and help us lift this car up."

A smile radiant on her face.

Jonathan rediscovered a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

And just as his thoughts were in disarray.

The voice suddenly came very close to my ear.

"Isn't this the future you want? Now, we can help you achieve that future." The voice was seductive, and Jonathan's pupils contracted slightly.

"This isn't just for you." Its whisper coiled around Jonathan's reason like a venomous snake, as if adding the most important weight, "It's also for your... family."

A person's psychological defenses may crumble in an instant.

After all, the Kent family were all known for their chivalrous nature, and Jonathan lowered his head. Around him, the lights that had struggled to pierce the darkness began to dim, just like the gradually darkening pupils in Jonathan's eyes.

"what should I do?"

The seventeen-year-old boy asked in a low voice.

hoarse voice.

The light that seemed to illuminate the world vanished completely at that moment, but even with his eyes closed, Jonathan could still feel the things emerging in the darkness drawing ever closer to him.

In the void.

Something laughed.

Darkness, like viscous oil, seeped over Jonathan's ankles.

All you need to do is... accept us!

This moment.

Jonathan seemed to see countless eerie shadows before his eyes. He roared, but only sat up in bed, his pajamas soaked with cold sweat and his sheets.

Heart beating wildly.

It felt as if his chest was about to explode.

"What did I dream about?!"

Back in reality, Jonathan couldn't remember what he had seen. He tried desperately to recall, but all he could remember were fragmented pieces, and he couldn't even piece together a complete picture.

"There must be something, there must be something very important." Jonathan's subconscious was frantically reminding him, but everything in the dream seemed to have been forcibly dug out of his memory by some force.

"This is……"

Jonathan frowned and gasped for breath.

He stood up.

I noticed something had fallen from my blanket onto the floor.

"Ok?"

at the same time.

Clark was also suddenly awakened from the sofa on the first floor.

At that moment, his super hearing picked up a sound that shouldn't have been coming from the second floor. It wasn't the "torture-like whispers" from Ian's room, nor was it the disturbing noise of Jordan unconsciously using super speed in his sleep, as he liked to hold onto a sensitive spot. Instead, it was a sticky sound, as if something was being chewed.

"Dong Dong Dong~"

Clark appeared at his eldest son's door in an instant.

He knocked on the door.

“Jonathan, are you alright?” Clark Kent asked his son in the manner of an ordinary father, even though he could see what was happening inside the house if he wanted to.

"I'm fine. I just had a nightmare. I can't remember what it was, but it was probably pretty scary." Jonathan was changing the sheets and clothes in the room.

He still couldn't recall the events of his dream, and even the fragments he remembered upon waking gradually faded. This often happens when people dream, so he didn't have any doubts about it.

“You didn’t peek at me, did you?” Jonathan could picture his father standing in the hallway—his brow furrowed, his super hearing picking up on the subtle changes in his heartbeat, breathing, and blood flow.

"If you don't need it, of course not. Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Clark was still standing outside the door.

“No need, I still need to lose weight. Dad, you surely know that a good physique is important for a football player.” Jonathan walked to his desk.

There lay a book on it that he had just picked up from the ground.

Perhaps Clark really wasn't spying.

Otherwise, Jonathan thought he might be asked what the hell he was looking at on his desk—or perhaps the book was only visible to him?

Jonathan frowned.

"Alright, call me anytime if you need help." The old father's voice was incredibly gentle. His footsteps faded into the distance, and the wooden floorboards creaked softly.

Somewhat deliberate.

Jonathan didn't think much of it; his attention was focused on the mysteriously appearing book. He swore he had never bought such a thing, and the strange patterns on it looked rather eerie.

It is said to be a book.

It looked more like an old leather notebook, rather thin, and completely blank. Jonathan turned on the light and finally made out the name on the cover.

"death Note?"

He read out the crooked handwriting softly, which looked like a child's scribbles or the clumsy strokes of someone who had never learned to write.

"This handwriting is even uglier than Ian's scribbles."

Jonathan grumbled as he released the mysterious notebook. He realized he had misread it earlier; at least the first page of the blank notebook had a line of text.

We can help you conquer death.

The dark red handwriting was still crooked and messy.

The lights suddenly flickered.

next moment.

I can help you conquer death.

The handwriting on the first page seemed to have changed. Jonathan wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, as he had just woken up and his mind was still a bit jumbled.

"Who put it in my room, Jordan or Ian? It's not April Fool's Day yet..." The tranquility of the night enveloped Jonathan's room, broken only by the occasional sound of wind from outside the window.