HISD Chapter 114 Ancient Doomsday's Family
On the outskirts between Washington and Metropolis.
Inside the master chamber of the manor estate.
"I will stay here. Until the day I kill you."
Diana, Wonder Woman of half-god blood, still bound in white bandages, clenched her fists and fixed her sharp, resolute gaze on the seated King of Destruction.
"That's good."
Yi Meng, the Ancient Doomsday, let the corners of his skeletal mask curl upward in a grin—holy and terrifying at once.
At the doorway, Steppenwolf shook his head, but there was genuine relief in his eyes. At least with these new arrivals, perhaps he would not be the only one taking all the punishment anymore.
Then came the sound of quick, light footsteps in the hall.
It was clearly not Atlanna.
Diana turned back, shocked that anyone else lived in the dwelling of this bone-plated tyrant.
Steppenwolf remained bowed, but his great bull-like eyes carried a flash of tension and fear.
Tap tap!
A small figure hopped into the room, her little boots pattering cheerfully on the floor.
Diana froze.
It was a little girl with long pink hair, her doll-like face as delicate as if carved from jade. Her big eyes shone like gemlike stars, lips soft as petals beneath a dainty nose, and her skin pale and smooth like milk.
She wore an understated white dress of refined make, with a tiny Metropolis school satchel slung on her back. She looked like a princess from a fairytale—or perhaps an angel out of myth.
The pink-haired girl walked right past the towering Steppenwolf, casually hung her bag on one of his sharp horns, and when her gaze fell on Diana, it flashed with hostility. Without pause, she dashed straight toward the throne.
Yi Meng extended his bone-spurred hand.
"Don't—!"
Diana cried out, but too late. She could only watch as the monstrous hand engulfed the girl, bone spurs thrusting into her small, soft belly and stirring violently.
The child's delicate body twisted and crumbled in an instant.
Diana's eyes turned red—but then her expression shifted to disbelief.
The seemingly human girl did not bleed or break. Instead, her form melted into a soft pink sphere, bouncing lightly in Yi Meng's grip. No matter how he kneaded or squeezed, she remained intact, giggling like silver chimes.
What…?
Diana realized at once—this was no ordinary human child. Like her, she too was one of the "chosen."
Yi Meng toyed with the pliant orb, its springy texture more satisfying than any Mother Box. Then he tossed it aside, where it hovered in the air, reshaping into the girl's body again. Her hair now shimmered with rainbow brilliance, cascading down her back, and she wore only a small top and shorts.
This was Little Flower—one of the last survivors of the Martian race.
Yi Meng regarded her calmly. Four years ago, on Mars, she too had been infected by the psychic plague that annihilated her people. He had meant to grant her destruction. But when he tried channeling the projection of the Mind Stone, he had accidentally pulled her back from corruption. Her body and mind mutated in the process.
That was why Little Flower trusted him so instinctively—like kin, much as she did with Clark.
Of course, that was only because they were still children. When they grew older, they would understand what the Ancient Doomsday truly was. And perhaps then, they would become his enemies.
That was fine. Enemies were all he ever needed.
…
"School was okay today. Except for that Clark guy…"
Little Flower spoke idly, letting her small form lean against Yi Meng as she opened her mind to him.
His bone-spurred finger touched her brow, and images from her memory flowed into his mind like a vivid recording.
It was the first day she and Clark enrolled at school.
Unlike the aloof Little Flower, who drew admiration but distanced herself from everyone, Clark brimmed with sunshine and warmth. He mingled easily with new classmates, his social skills surprising even her.
But during class, something strange happened.
Clark suddenly lost control, flipping his desk, fleeing to the bathroom, and even scorching the metal handle of the restroom door.
The Kryptonian genes were awakening under Earth's yellow sun…
Yi Meng understood at once.
Footsteps echoed again in the hall.
Atlanna entered, flustered, guiding a nervous young Clark into the chamber.
Bowing low, she said anxiously, "King of Destruction, it was my failure to guide Clark. From now on, I will ensure he restrains and conceals his powers."
"Your Majesty," Clark murmured, apologetic.
"Come here."
Yi Meng's blazing red eyes fixed on him as if from the throne of a demon god.
Under Atlanna's worried gaze, Clark stepped forward, standing before the throne.
"You want to suppress your power?" Yi Meng's bone spur touched the boy's forehead, sensing the awakening of the Man of Steel within him.
"I…" Clark faltered, then shook his head.
"To lock a bird in a cage, never letting it fly—what a pitiful fate that is."
The monster's voice rasped like dark prophecy.
"Our Kryptonian blood is born to soar. Strength is our destiny. What is there to fear or restrain?"
Yi Meng's grin was savage and triumphant. "Rather than suppress it, dig deeper. Master it. If you can wield it perfectly, you will never need to fear others, nor worry about harming them."
"Even if one day you walk among humans, you may become one of them. But they will never become you."
"Our blood's strength means we alone choose who we are. High above or far below—no one can stop us from reaching our summit."
His words were overwhelming, absolute, unchallengeable. The room fell silent.
"I understand, my king." Clark's panic melted away, replaced with a smile as pure as sunlight.
Little Flower pouted and shot him a glare, jealous that he had received such guidance.
Diana was astonished. The one they called King of Destruction—sometimes a monster who sought only ruin, sometimes a figure who spoke with the authority of a god—Yi Meng was far more complex than she imagined.
Atlanna's worry only deepened. His words weren't wrong, but he had taken the role of Clark's godfather—guiding him with such dominance. Would the boy ever truly stand against him?
At the doorway, Steppenwolf bowed lower, silent as always, waiting for his chance.
But as long as the King of Destruction remained, he would never awaken the Mother Boxes or call to Darkseid's New Gods.
For here, there was no hope.
Only destruction.
As long as the King sat his throne, nothing else could rule.
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