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

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The masked face of the bat-like monster raised a specially made telescope from inside the hatch.

This allowed him to glance at Ian from afar.

"Ok?"

Clark's expression froze. He vaguely recalled a crazy plan that had been shelved years ago—back when Bruce had mentioned building an ultimate suit of armor capable of countering Darkseid.

Hell Armor.

The initial concept for this armor was that the metal would need to be forged inside a star. Since Superman and his teammates didn't have that capability, the armor project had been shelved for many years.

"No, you think this will work?" Clark turned around and looked at Ian's glowing, but not very hot, head, and his expression at that moment was extremely strange.

“Why not? That project has been shelved for a long time, but now, given Ian’s condition, it might be the only chance.” Batman’s voice came through the phone.

"This is also a test to see if Ian can truly control that power." His figure hung at the hatch, his cloak fluttering in the night wind, and he held some instruments scanning and reading Ian's data.

In this regard.

Clark didn't know how to respond, so he turned to look at Ian again.

"Use my head as a furnace? And even need to hammer and pound on my head? That's outrageous!" Ian certainly wouldn't agree to such a plan that so ruthlessly trampled on his dignity.

He retorted loudly, extremely angry.

“I’m not going to bang on your head. Your head can’t take that kind of banging. It’s just a furnace.” Batman’s tone was also quite strange when he responded.

He really couldn't figure it out.

Furthermore, it is impossible to make any effective inferences.

Why didn't Ian's body explode when it shouldn't have been able to contain such power? Is this the miracle of the new Jesus that subverts science and understanding?

Batman has many thoughts on his mind.

But Ian had only one thought in his mind.

“That won’t do! I! Ian Kent! I will absolutely not be anyone’s alchemical furnace! That would be a black mark on my history!” His attitude remained exceptionally firm.

"Fine, my son disagrees, so I won't agree either." Superman, seeing Ian's attitude, turned and spoke firmly to Batman in the distance.

There is no other reason.

In this regard.

Batman's expression did not change.

"I'll give you money."

His voice was as deep and resonant as ever, but now it carried a hint of warmth from Uncle Bruce—at least that's how it sounded to Ian.

He was the child who had been held by Uncle Bruce's money.

You can't have misheard.

The three of them fell silent for a moment.

“Um, Bruce, I think…” Superman was about to say, “It’s not about the money,” when he saw a glowing hand reach out to cover his mouth.

"how much is it?"

Ian's eyes.

If those two orbs of light, comparable to searchlights, can still be called eyes.

Its brightness has tripled at this moment.

"How much do you want?"

Batman didn't waste any words.

Let's get straight to the point.

"One hundred million!"

Ian made an outrageous demand.

He felt his head was worth that price.

In this regard.

Batman frowned.

Just as Ian was about to reject or criticize him.

"I'll give you a billion."

Batman's voice was completely unwavering. He frowned only because he was amazed by the Kent family's lack of imagination; a billion dollars was far more economical than forging something in a star.

after all.

Ian's head is a controllable energy furnace.

"What!?"

Ian's eyes brightened at least five times.

"Good, good, good! Hurry! Daddy! Forge Lord Wayne's armor! My stellar head is perfect as a furnace! The artifacts forged with my magic will even come with super enchantments!"

He even tried to pull on Clark's cape.

Clark dodged it.

Even a cloak covered by a bio-force field cannot defend against everything.

"Where is your dignity? Where is the dark history you don't want to leave behind?" The old father had lost count of how many times he had covered his face today. He questioned Ian with a speechless tone.

however.

Ian didn't care about any questioning or interrogation.

"I am Dark Tiga, so I should have a dark past!"

It's normal for an evil god to have a dark past.

He spoke anxiously to Clark.

"A billion dollars is my lost dignity, and now I'm going to get it back! Come on, Dad! I'll buy you a big house! Don't keep my Uncle Bruce waiting!"

Ian kept urging him on.

Superman could only fly towards the Batmobile.

The materials were brought over.

However, Ian still wanted to save face, so in order to avoid the investigation by reporters, the military, and various other forces, he and Clark went straight out of Earth and into the vacuum of space.

"This is the feeling! I was so frustrated last time." Ian was finally able to experience the joy of not needing to breathe. His divine power circulated on its own, supplying energy to his body and cells.

The two people arrived on the moon.

Having gradually absorbed the divine power, Ian voluntarily lit up his magical head, which shone even brighter than the stellar power in his eyes. In fact, divine power and the power of the eyes are two completely different kinds of power.

only.

Both can be used for forging.

Ian's eyes couldn't muster enough energy.

But the power of the God-King can.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Clark looked at the metal material in his hand.

These are not ordinary alloys.

Each piece is incredibly precious.

There was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Let's do it!" Ian said excitedly, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. "I promise to give Lord Wayne the strongest enchantment that even Aunt Diana couldn't have imagined!"

Divine power began to boil within his body, gushing forth from the top of his head like a star exploding, so turbulent that Clark could hardly look directly at it.

Fortunately, Ian did manage to control himself very well.

All energy is precisely confined within the forging range.

Not a single detail was leaked.

The father and son exchanged a glance.

“I really will buy you a big house.” Ian encouraged his elderly father. He didn’t really need the money for much other purpose than developing his own company.

Ian actually had brilliant ideas for developing a technology company that could boost his magical growth. He knew how to deeply integrate dimensional demons and capitalists.

“Who wants your big house… I just think this kind of thing is a bit too ridiculous.” Clark never dreamed that one day he and his youngest son would work together on this kind of thing.

It wasn't about repairing cars.

It wasn't exactly a normal father-son time either.

"Dang! Dang! Dang!"

Strange forging sounds echoed through the universe.

at the same time.

On Earth, the night sky over major cities remains bright, only much softer than before.

Many citizens were already easily frightened, and now they were even more unable to sleep. It wasn't just them; in the Daily Planet editorial office, Louise Lane and her colleagues were also huddled by the window.

Everyone was discussing the spectacular nighttime phenomenon in the sky.

"It's definitely a new energy experiment by the military," the photojournalist said confidently.

"I bet it's an alien power bank!" the entertainment editor interjected.

"Don't you guys think it looks like a giant light bulb?" the financial columnist pushed up his glasses.

Louise sighed and rubbed her temples. "All I know is that we're going to have to work overtime again."

A chorus of groans erupted in the office. The reporters, who had been discussing things with great enthusiasm just moments before, now wore complex expressions of mixed joy and worry—big news was certainly welcome, but the 3 a.m. deadline was truly daunting.

Just then, the office door was pushed open, and an enticing aroma of roasted meat wafted in.

"Everyone! The midnight snack has arrived!" Tom from the social news department walked in carrying a large cardboard box. "Authentic fruitwood-grilled meat!"