Chris scrambled out of the dimensional pocket, his mind reeling from the impossible physics of the space.
Before he could fully process the armory, Ernst gestured to a massive figure standing silently in the corner of the office.
"This is James," Ernst introduced.
"Or, simply, General. He is from China. He will serve as the head of security for this park, and more importantly, as your personal vanguard."
"Master Chris," the General said.
His voice was deep, resonant, and entirely devoid of hesitation.
"Please to meet you."
The General radiated absolute, unshakable confidence.
It was an engineered trait.
The General was originally a Jiangshi, a Chinese vampire.
His human memories had eroded centuries ago.
Ernst had used the Reality Gem to forge a new, fiercely loyal consciousness within the undead warrior.
"Listen to me, Chris," Ernst said, his tone dropping the playful warmth from moments before. It became sharp and deadly serious.
"Your mutation has awakened. You absorb kinetic and thermal energy. In this world, that makes you a target."
"If the government or the black-ops syndicates discover what you are, they will attempt to cage you. They will strap you to a table and dissect you to understand your gift. That is the tragic reality of our kind."
Ernst stepped closer.
"Do not overestimate yourself. You are ten years old. You are brilliant, but you are not invincible."
"Doraemon is your shield. I have inscribed him with potent disillusionment runes. To the outside world, he is invisible, or entirely uninteresting. He will guard you."
"The General is your sword. His raw strength ranks among the highest on this planet. He will slaughter anyone who tries to take you."
"But ultimately, your safety is paramount. Do not play the hero. If you are discovered, you run. Understood?"
To emphasize the absolute gravity of the warning, Ernst released a microscopic fraction of his magical aura.
Chris gasped. The air in the office instantly turned to lead.
It felt as though an entire mountain range had just been placed on his small shoulders.
It was the first time Chris felt the true, suffocating weight of his father's power.
A spike of primal terror shot through him.
He nodded frantically, struggling to breathe.
Satisfied, Ernst retracted the aura.
The pressure vanished instantly. Chris inhaled deeply, the lesson permanently etched into his psyche.
"Good," Ernst nodded.
He snapped his fingers. A sleek, metallic door frame materialized in the center of the office.
"This is a portable spatial door," Ernst explained.
"It is a direct, unbreakable tether to my farm in Kansas."
"No matter where you are on Earth, this door will bring you to me."
Ernst instructed Doraemon to carefully place the door into his dimensional pocket.
"I have only forged one of these," Ernst warned.
"It is highly complex. Use it only in an absolute, life-or-death crisis. Ensure Doraemon sweeps the area for surveillance before you deploy it. Once you step through, the door must be destroyed to prevent pursuit."
With the crucial survival protocols established, the tension bled out of the room.
They spent the rest of the day simply talking.
Ernst didn't hide the truth about Moira.
He explained their history, the conflicts, and the brutal realities of the mutant cold war.
Chris, possessing an intellect that dwarfed most adults, didn't judge his father. He understood the nuance of geopolitical chess.
They shifted topics, diving into theoretical physics, dimensional geometry, and advanced mathematics.
For the first time in his life, Chris felt truly alive. His personality blossomed. He actually laughed.
He wasn't autistic. He was just desperately lonely in a world of slow minds.
If Moira looked at a clock, she thought about dinner time.
If Chris looked at a clock, he deconstructed the mechanical engineering and pondered the philosophical implications of localized time dilation.
Now, he finally had someone who spoke his language.
As the sun began to set, casting long orange shadows across the park, Ernst realized it was time.
"You need to go home," Ernst said.
"Before Moira alerts the authorities."
Ernst handed Chris a sleek, blue, metallic card.
"This is a VIP access pass. If anyone asks, you were the 100th guest today, and you won a lifetime membership. It explains your presence here."
Chris pocketed the card carefully.
"Dad, are there other people on your farm?"
"A housekeeper," Ernst replied.
"And your two younger brothers."
"I adopted an infant named Clark. And there is Kyle... he is technically two years younger than you."
Ernst paused, a look of distinct awkwardness crossing his face.
"Well. Two years younger if you don't count the two decades he spent gestating in a bio-tank before he was born."
Chris stared at him, his genius mind quickly processing the bizarre timeline and the lack of a maternal figure.
"Dad," Chris said, his voice dripping with sudden, sharp disdain.
"Are you telling me you don't have a wife?"
"It's complicated," Ernst said defensively.
"You are a reality-warping immortal with limitless wealth," Chris deadpanned.
"And you are single. That is embarrassing. You have zero game."
Ernst felt like he had just been stabbed.
"There is nothing wrong with being single!" Ernst retorted, his ancient pride wounded.
"I choose to be. I could have a thousand women if I wanted."
"Yes, women who want your money," Chris shot back, ruthlessly analyzing the situation.
"Not someone who actually tolerates your personality. You are incompetent at human relationships."
Ernst's face turned bright red.
He had debated gods and warlords, but he was being verbally dismantled by a ten-year-old.
"Get out!" Ernst shouted, looking for a rolled-up newspaper to throw.
Chris laughed, a genuine, delighted sound.
"I'm leaving! I'm just stating facts, Dad! Fix your life!"
The boy sprinted out of the office, his laughter echoing down the hall.
Ernst slumped into his leather chair, rubbing his temples.
A bitter, defeated smile touched his lips.
It was infuriating. But hearing the boy call him 'Dad' made the insult entirely worth it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Farmhouse - Smallville, Kansas
Ernst returned to Kansas in a foul mood.
The emotional bruising from his son's verbal assault lingered heavily on his face.
His dark, brooding expression immediately alarmed the household.
Kyle, Tina, Ghost, and even Simba the shrunken Crup gathered in the living room, staring at Ernst.
They had never seen the ancient warlock look so thoroughly defeated.
"Dad, what happened?" Kyle asked anxiously.
"You were gone for two days."
Ernst sighed, collapsing onto the sofa.
He begrudgingly recounted the events in New York. The discovery of Chris. The impossible intellect.
And the brutal, humiliating critique of his romantic life.
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then, Kyle burst out laughing.
Tina covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed giggles.
Even Ghost's spectral form seemed to vibrate with amusement.
The terrifying, omnipotent master of Skull Island had been roasted by a ten-year-old.
It was the funniest thing they had heard in a decade.
Ernst glared at them, deeply regretting his honesty.
But beneath his annoyance, he felt a profound relief.
Kyle wasn't jealous. He was ecstatic.
For years, Kyle had been surrounded by magical beasts and mutant soldiers. He had friends, but no intellectual peers.
Hearing that he had a brother who shared his hyper-evolved intelligence thrilled him.
He couldn't wait to meet him.
Ernst expected Chris to wait a few days before using the portal.
He underestimated the boy's eagerness.
At exactly 9:00 PM the very next night, the Red Queen's alarm chimed.
"Dr. Ernst. The spatial door in the bunker has been activated."
Ernst smiled. It was Chris's bedtime in New York.
The boy had locked his door, deployed the portal, and stepped through.
Ernst hurried down to the subterranean vault to greet him.
The farm instantly erupted into a flurry of activity.
Tina rushed to the kitchen, preparing a massive, late-night feast.
She organized a sudden, impromptu welcome party.
Even Simba received a premium cut of enchanted beef. Only Ghost was left out, lacking the biological hardware to enjoy the food.
The party was chaotic and joyful.
Chris and Kyle met for the first time.
They circled each other like evaluating scientists, before immediately bonding over a shared, high-level discussion on quantum mechanics.
The only friction occurred when they began debating the semantics of brotherhood.
Chris argued he was chronologically older.
Kyle argued his gestation period gave him biological seniority.
They nearly initiated a magical duel to settle the dispute.
Ernst and Tina sat back, watching them bicker with warm smiles.
They didn't intervene.
It was the exact kind of loud, messy, human argument this bizarre family desperately needed.
-------------
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