Everyone present, without exception, possessed a super-brain.
Yet, even they found it difficult to process how a cataclysm they had feared for years—a doomsday event for Earth—could devolve into this.
This was Darkseid's formal invasion!
Heaven knows how many nightmares the superheroes had suffered after witnessing that silhouette through Steppenwolf years ago.
Now, the nightmare had arrived. But the tragic scenes they imagined hadn't appeared; not only were they not being beaten into pulp, but the entire situation had lost every shred of its seriousness.
"Is this for real?"
The members of the Justice League looked at each other, their facial expressions collectively losing control.
The entire planet—billions of people—as long as they were using an electronic device that hadn't completely broken down, were forced to watch this "major motion picture" starring "former" superhero Ian Kent. It was a live broadcast of an abstract, heroic speech delivered while fighting Darkseid and Trigon.
Honestly, at this point, every member of the league, including Superman, had the lingering suspicion that they were currently in Arkham Asylum receiving electrotherapy and experiencing a collective hallucination.
They didn't dare think too deeply about it! You couldn't dream up this plot even if you ate a handful of magic mushrooms. Superman's only solace was that Ian wasn't using his real last name; otherwise, the Kent family's reputation would be beyond saving.
"..."
Hearing Batman's disgruntled, gravelly confirmation of a "global broadcast," Clark Kent stared at the "God of Light, Eni Tekken," who was still delivering a passionate speech on the cracked screen.
He fell into a long silence—a silence mixed with worry, embarrassment, and a deep sense of helplessness regarding "who this kid actually takes after."
After a long time, he slowly turned his head to look at Batman, whose face was as black as the bottom of a pot. His tone carried a hint of desperate hope and a touch of pleading.
"Bruce... haven't you... thought about stopping him?" Superman asked softly, essentially hinting that Batman should do something.
In his mind, with Batman's control issues and mastery of technology, he should at least be able to try and jam a forced broadcast, right? This was the "external brain" he had always believed to be omnipotent.
Superman trusted Batman's brain more than his own super-brain. However, he shouldn't have said it. The moment the words left his mouth, it was like lighting a long-suppressed powder keg.
"Stop him? How?! You tell me how to stop him, Clark!" Batman snapped his head around. Those eyes, sharp as a hawk's even beneath the cowl, locked onto Superman. His usually low, calm voice actually carried a rare, high-pitched note of irritation.
He even took a step forward, his tone aggressive, as if venting all the frustration built up over this period: "Who do you think I am?! Do you think I can just rub my hands together and conjure whatever black technology I want?!"
"He has alien tech! Alien tech that is completely unparseable!" Bruce's voice sounded like a near-breakdown accusation. He seemed to be triggered by a memory he didn't want to revisit, and his tone became even more pained.
"You think I haven't tried?! I tried to crack that damn network protocol and signal coverage tech! And then... and then..."
He paused, as if the result was too humiliating to speak aloud, but finally gritted his teeth and said it.
"Then my Batcave was completely compromised! To this day! Right now! My Batcave has a 24-hour loop of that... [I want fruit milk, I want fruit milk, Ian fruit milk, pop-pop-pop] brainwashing advertisement!! I can't turn it off! I can't cut it!"
One could imagine it: in the dark, solemn Batcave, the massive main computer screen eternally displayed a brightly colored, magically rhythmic fruit milk ad. It was a cruel form of psychological torture for Batman.
Superman was startled by Bruce's sudden outburst. He subconsciously pulled his neck back.
"Uh, did you try reinstalling the OS?"
What an invincible Superman—going straight for the ultimate move in computer repair. It made Batman's face turn from iron-blue to a deep beet-red.
Seeing this, Superman felt extremely awkward and quickly waved his hands to clear himself.
"Uh... Bruce, I swear, I never gave Ian any Kryptonian technology." He didn't want to take the fall for this.
Of course, this defense was redundant. Batman let out a scoff full of disdain.
"I know that! If Krypton had this kind of technology, they wouldn't have ended up exploding." He was still as blunt as ever, likely due to his current state of mind. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure, then said in a more solemn tone.
"I'll say it again, Clark. I am not the kind of being who can conjure whatever I want with my bare hands." He pointed to the giant figure on the screen still being besieged by Darkseid and Trigon, his tone complex. "But your younger son... he truly knows God."
Clearly, in Batman's eyes, this completely incomprehensible, unparseable, and absurdly effective technology could only be "rationally" explained by attributing it to the omniscient "God." It was the most "logical" misunderstanding he could make within his current framework of reality.
Superman: "..."
Clark fell into a self-imposed, catatonic silence. This silence wasn't entirely because of Ian, but Batman's phrase "knows God" reminded him of his older son, Jonathan, whose situation was even more complicated—sharing a physical body with God...
He was even getting confused about when it was appropriate to call Jonathan "son." He feared that one slip-up might violate some sacred taboo. To be honest, Clark felt his career as a father was far more dangerous than being a superhero.
As Superman went silent, the atmosphere became deathly and awkward once again. The heroes stood amidst the ruins of Metropolis; above them was a bizarre Dark Dimension broadcast, and beneath them was the wreckage of a disaster. The core force that was supposed to save the world now seemed... idle.
Finally, the relatively simple-minded Aquaman, Arthur Curry, couldn't take it anymore. He shouldered his signature trident and gave a loud cough to break the suffocating silence.
"So... is anyone going to step up and say something? Are we just going to stand here and be cheerleaders?"
He looked around, his tone frustrated. Darkseid hadn't brought a Parademon army this time, nor did he have a powerful lieutenant like Steppenwolf following him.
In truth, even without Ian, Aquaman knew he might not have much of a role—he had always been clear about his position in cosmic crises: the Parademon Terminator. His AOE clearing ability was very effective against endless fodder.
But that was about it.
"Don't be so gloomy. At least it's not heart-pounding this time, is it?" Beside him, Cyborg spoke up, perhaps to lighten the mood or perhaps out of self-deprecating humor. His half-mechanical face showed no expression, but his electronic eye flickered.
"Maybe... we could order a pizza?"
As he spoke, a floating window of a food delivery app actually popped up on his visual interface, with various pizza shop discounts scrolling by.
"Absurd. It looks like the Pentagon ordered a lot of pizzas," Cyborg marveled. Seeing no response, he continued trying to liven things up.
"Oh, right, Bruce. Did you know that Ian's [Heavenly Delivery] app—the one that supposedly lets you earn Heaven Points—has snatched quite a bit of market share from the delivery app you invested in?"
He seemed to be browsing the app's info. "Honestly, I don't know if Heaven Points can actually get you into heaven, but his 'Group-Buy Meal' service is actually great."
"Let me see. Tonight, just now, they even launched a [Self-Operated] Soviet-style Group-Buy Meal set? All these canned meats and vegetables for only $3.99!"
"That price is truly conscientious!" Cyborg couldn't help but sigh. Even as a cyborg, he felt the price was so low it felt like charity.
"Heh, go ahead, eat. Eat your fill."
Batman ignored the chatter about delivery app competition. He didn't even blink. Just a delivery app. He didn't care.
At this moment, the Dark Knight was fully focused on pulling out a portable energy detector, scanning and analyzing the direction where the Dark Dimension first projected from, trying to find a way to enter or interfere.
Seeing no one bothered with his cheerleader comment, Aquaman turned his attention to a foul-smelling gutter nearby, contaminated by demonic residue from the battle. His eyes lit up, and he made a more "down-to-earth" suggestion.
"Anyone want a fishing contest? I bet there are mutant species in this water!"
Cyborg turned his electronic eye toward the suspiciously colored gutter and, in his flat electronic voice, made a "serious" joke.
"Are you going to dive in and catch them for us?" This was a play on the "Aquaman is a fish" meme—one that many in the League had taken a liking to after Ian first used it.
"Why not?" Arthur was a good sport. He looked eager to try.
"I read in a book recently that gutters are the places most likely to trigger mutations and grant power." Just after the opening, Superman already knew whose book Aquaman had been reading.
*Thwack—* Clark Kent, unable to blend into this increasingly off-track atmosphere, pressed his forehead hard, feeling his temples throb.
A group of the world's most powerful heroes, standing on the front lines of saving the planet, were discussing group-buy meals and gutter fishing because they couldn't find a way to help?
The picture was so "beautiful" he really couldn't adapt.
*Whoosh—*
Just then, a heroic figure descended from the sky. Wonder Woman, Diana Prince, landed steadily before the group, carrying a young girl in purple mystical clothing who was unconscious.
It was Raven, who had fainted after her failed attempt to stop Trigon. No one in the Justice League recognized her; they were big players who rarely paid attention to small characters with few scenes. This wasn't arrogance; they simply hadn't had the chance to meet.
"Are you all... really this bored?!" Wonder Woman looked at her comrades—some silent, some checking instruments, others discussing food and fishing.
Seeing a group of grown men huddled around a gutter pointing and whispering, her beautiful and determined face nearly broke into an expression of utter speechlessness.
"What else, Diana? We can't even find where the battlefield went! Look—" Aquaman shrugged helplessly.
He pointed to a display screen nearby that was still stubbornly sparking while playing the "live situation." On the screen, within the Dark Dimension, Darkseid and Trigon seemed to have finally found a rhythm.
Their attacks had become sharper and more coordinated. Various Dark New God powers and chaotic magic poured down like a storm onto Ian's "Galactus" body. Ian's massive form was indeed rocking back and forth, even letting out bursts of... screaming?
"Ah—!"
"Urgh—!"
"It hurts! You guys have no honor!"
However, the screams sounded... robust, rhythmic, and full of theatrical tension—exactly like a third-rate actor fresh out of a roadside drama class. The effort was far too forced. It was reminiscent of the poor acting in late-night cable movies.
The members of the Justice League found it very hard to comment.
"..."
Wonder Woman looked at the exaggerated "beating" on the screen, then at her eccentric teammates. She could only take a deep breath, feeling the Amazonian Princess's patience being tested like never before.
"Guys, I'll be honest..."
Just as Diana was about to complain about this bizarre world-saving vibe, Batman—who had been hunched over his portable device, operating it rapidly and seeming out of place—suddenly spoke without looking up.
His voice was cold as he addressed Aquaman, who was watching the broadcast with great interest in front of a large display on a ruined building.
"Arthur, step back."
Arthur was taken aback by the sudden, nonsensical order, but his long-standing trust in Batman's tactical judgment made him instinctively comply. Almost the moment his heel touched the ground—
*BOOM!!!*
The sparking display screen suddenly erupted in a brilliant flare. Accompanied by a blast that wasn't too loud but was clear enough, the screen went black instantly. Shrapnel and charred parts rained down, completely totaled. The explosion's power wasn't small; half the building's facade was blown away.
"What's the situation!"
Aquaman was startled by the sudden blast and whipped his head toward Batman, who was still fiddling with his instruments. His face was full of shock and confusion.
"What happened?! Bruce? Why did that thing just blow up?!" He wasn't afraid of being blown up, but he didn't want to be covered in dust.
"Nothing." Batman didn't even blink, as if he had just turned off an inconsequential switch, showing no intention of explaining.
It was Clark, standing nearby with a look of resignation, who provided the answer for his silent partner:
"That was... a display module manufactured by Wayne Enterprises."
"Bruce learned a trick from some 'special procurement' projects for the US military. Besides the built-in high-definition cameras, he installs trace amounts of high explosives in parts he deems 'critical.'" Superman had always been keeping a close eye on Batman's operations.
"In his words, it's... 'just in case'." Superman didn't really approve of this behavior, but Batman never listened to his advice anyway.
"What?!" Aquaman's voice jumped an octave. He pointed at the smoking ruins—which was clearly just an ordinary commercial building, with a sign showing it was a trash recycling company.
"That was just a trash recycling company building! Who are you even guarding against?!"
Clearly, including Cyborg, this was the first time they had heard of such things being done in civilian technology. Even Cyborg's scanning system hadn't detected this in the past.
"Against who?"
Batman finally stopped his operations and slowly looked up. His gaze beneath the cowl swept calmly over Aquaman, then every hero present. Finally, in his signature, flat, low voice, he gave a concise answer that surprised no one.
"Against everyone, of course. We can never guess where a mutant villain might pop up next, can we?" Batman's response was treated as common sense.
The answer was so classic that even Aquaman was choked up. He opened his mouth but eventually said nothing—right, that was very Batman. The man was world-class when it came to paranoid delusions. He was miles ahead of any other patient.
At this point, Wonder Woman seemed to have a sensitive nerve touched by the word "camera," reminding her of something from long ago. Her beautiful eyes narrowed slightly, carrying a look mixed with playfulness and "settling old scores." She looked at Batman and said in a conversational tone.
"Speaking of cameras... Bruce, I have to admit, in that book Ian wrote, 'The Tragic and Beautiful Sadomasochistic Love of Batman,' some parts—while the plot is absurd—the analysis of some of your behaviors... is truly thorough." As the saying goes, no one knows how long a woman's grudge will last. Her notebook had indeed been treated that way by Bruce. It was hard to forget.
Hearing Wonder Woman's clear intent for payback, Batman's fingers, which were operating the device, froze mid-air.
He seemed to sense something extremely unpleasant and wanted to stop her, but it was too late. With Aquaman asking "Why?" like a perfect straight man, Wonder Woman gave the answer.
"In that novel, it says... our great Dark Knight, so that he can monitor his 'love-hate' 'lover' the Joker at all times, even installed a micro-camera and tracker in the Joker's rear. The reason—to ensure he is always within sight, never to be separated."
The moment the words were spoken, the air froze.
*Wheeze—hiss—*
Bruce Wayne looked like a volcano about to erupt! Even through the armor, they could hear his breath suddenly become heavy and ragged! His face wasn't lined with black; it was full of bulging veins and a soy-sauce color worse than a beet-red.
"Pfft—*cough cough cough*!" Aquaman and Cyborg were nearly knocked over by this explosive revelation! Aquaman almost dropped his trident, and Cyborg's mechanical joints let out an overburdened creak.
Both desperately tried to suppress the urge to laugh, their faces turning red and their shoulders shaking violently.
Clark Kent, being very tactful, immediately looked up, pretending to be intensely focused on the distant sky, as if his super-hearing had missed everything.
"While I find the content absurd, I think the information it conveys is actually very realistic," Wonder Woman added, seriously continuing her reading comprehension. Just as the atmosphere of embarrassment, rage, and suppressed laughter reached its peak, Superman suddenly frowned.
His super-vision pierced the vast distance and saw the images on the television in an ordinary citizen's home.
"Ian's situation... seems a bit off." It wasn't entirely a subject change; Clark's tone carried a hint of worry that successfully drew everyone's attention back.
"He can't win? Is he going to lose?" Diana immediately dropped her playful expression, tightening her grip on the Sword of Athena and her heavily modified Lasso of Truth. She looked solemn, ready to face enemies that might collapse out of the Dark Dimension at any moment.
To this, before Superman could analyze it further, Batman—who had barely regained his breath from the "rear camera" incident—spoke up to explain.
"He's being beaten badly, covered in blood, looking precarious." Batman stated the observed facts, but then changed his tone with absolute certainty.
"However, I am certain he is faking it."
As he spoke, he held up his tablet, turning the screen toward the group. It displayed an information stream he had just intercepted.
"Three minutes ago," Batman pointed to an encrypted message, "he sent a text to his secretary—the classmate named Madison."
"Now, every platform under his name and all related streamers are frantically promoting this betting pool. Clearly, he doesn't just want to harvest the public's gratitude; he wants to seize the chance to make a huge profit." Batman couldn't spy on Ian's phone, but he could intercept messages on Madison's.
"That... is indeed Ian's way of doing things." Clark was stunned for a moment, then let out a long sigh of relief, his face showing a "just as I thought" look of resignation.
"He is rather obsessed with... win-win situations." Clark hesitated, his words coming out like he was constipated.
Aquaman was curious: "Win-win?"
Clark sighed, unable to avoid the explanation.
"Yeah, it means he wins twice."
Everyone: "..."
Arthur rubbed his beard, then looked down at his bank balance on his phone, wondering if a little gambling counted as gambling. Supporting a comrade's kid—how could that be called profiting?
Even though he was the King of the Seven Seas, baby formula was still really expensive. He was about to pull out his phone to lower his superhero moral standards.
However, Batman let out a blunt scoff.
"Want to throw your money away?" Batman had eyes that saw through everything.
"Why? Would Ian actually lose to an enemy just to make money? I don't think he's that kind of person!" Aquaman said, his brain not quite keeping up. After all, the boy had been his savior. He still held a shred of naive trust in Ian's character.
That trust even made Superman feel a bit ashamed, but he couldn't show a lack of confidence. He could only maintain his upright posture, hands on his hips, gazing into the distance—the classic look.
Batman glanced at Superman's forced front, then turned to Aquaman, debunking the truth with his tone that understood the dark side of capital.
"You'll lose no matter who you bet on. There are only three choices on the board: Ian wins, Darkseid wins, Trigon wins. But when the time comes, Ian won't let anyone win."
Batman's voice was decisive.
"He takes it all; the house sweeps! That is his 'Win-ology'!" Before Arthur or anyone else could process the information behind those words, Batman whispered a low evaluation to himself.
"Ian... is indeed a qualified capitalist, knowing how to maximize wealth accumulation. In that regard... he is completely different from me..."
As he spoke, he naturally pulled out his specially made, high-security satellite phone and expertly dialed a number.
"Alfred."
Batman spoke to the other end, his tone as calm as if he were ordering a dinner menu.
"Use my accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands to buy out the three most luxurious casinos in Las Vegas. I want to be the dealer in all the 'special betting halls' tonight. Tell those billionaires that Bruce Wayne wants to play once."
"I want to have some fun with those... sharp-nosed billionaires and speculators." Hanging up, Batman looked up to find everyone staring at him with extremely weird expressions, as if looking at a schizophrenic.
Diana Prince crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him with a playful tone: "Bruce... didn't you just say you aren't that kind of person?"
Facing the questioning looks, Batman remained incredibly calm.
"I'm not." He explained calmly, then paused, his gaze sweeping the distance as if already seeing the financial titans waving checks in VIP boxes.
"I don't care for the pennies in the commoners' pockets. I prefer to aim for the money in other capitalists' pockets." The logic was sound, the goal clear.
It made too much sense. Everyone was left speechless. Only Superman silently turned his head away, not wanting to admit he knew two capitalists—one opening a betting pool in a dimension to scam money, and the other harvesting billionaires in reality.
When did Earth become like this? Was he failing to keep up with the times? Clark felt a bit melancholic. He looked toward another city—an ordinary family home, at a television he could watch without paying. On the screen was only Ian's broadcast.
And he wasn't the only superhuman watching. There was even a mysterious figure in outer space, near the Kuiper Belt at the edge of the solar system.
In the endless void, a dark streak of light was hurtling forward at a speed transcending conventional physics. The light dimmed, revealing the outline of a giant—his body themed in black, silver, and dark red, with a unique energy core in his chest and mysterious dark patterns covering his body.
It was the Ultraman—Dark Tiga—transformed by Golden Superman using an outer-universe item after receiving help from the Batman Who Laughs.
He had crossed a vast interstellar distance and finally returned to the solar system of this universe. However, just as Golden Superman flew into the solar system's gravitational pull—before he could even carefully sense the situation on the blue planet—he was completely stunned.
He heard it and saw it: every instrument on Earth was echoing the same voice.
"Family! The enemy is too strong, I can't hold on! Look! I'm starting to turn black! I'm about to die! I'll become an eternal statue!"
"Quick! Quick, pray for me! Bless me! Lend me your light!"
It was Ian's desperate howling. It was just an exaggerated shout, a roar, but Golden Superman—who had plunged into darkness and was now using a heart of justice to harness dark power in his new form—didn't know why.
He felt the DNA of the body he was currently inhabiting twitch a few times.