The brave are the first to enjoy the world.
As the son of Superman, the one thing Ian does not lack is courage.
Brave Ian.
Unafraid of being beaten.
He only wants Morpheus to call him 'Dad.' This is a pure and simple wish, and Ian had heard Miss Death say that Morpheus is always very good at repaying kindness.
Miss Death is the second eldest of the Endless.
She definitely would not lie.
Moreover, Miss Death had promised to let Morpheus call him 'Dad'—the agreement with Miss Death was still fresh in his mind, and Ian clearly had his own interpretation of her answer.
"..."
A subtle silence permeated the cabin of the Hellcat.
The Hellcat's radio was silent.
Like the Demon Head, it didn't dare utter a single peep. There were many bold demons in Hell, but few were audacious to this extent.
Indeed.
God Ian, the future is limitless.
"Are you trying to take advantage of me?"
Morpehus's pale face was filled with confusion. Naturally, he wouldn't believe Ian's claim of being his father, as no normal person could fail to recognize the problem.
"I'm suffering from amnesia, not idiocy." Morpheus pointed to the rearview mirror with his delicate, pale fingers, he could see his own tall, slender figure reflected there.
"You and this girl are at most sixteen or seventeen. How could you possibly be my parents?" Morpheus's logical judgment and reasoning abilities had not been affected by the amnesia. His gaze turned to Madison, who was curled up in the passenger seat, unconsciously making the long, soft breaths of a kitten.
"She is not your mother."
Ian was quick to pull a black cloth over Madison, covering her completely. "She's just a poor soul I picked up on the road. I often find poor people like her when I'm out."
Hearing this.
Morpheus was slightly stunned.
"So, I am also a... poor soul you picked up on the road?" he asked, his tone laced with uncertainty, thoughtfully looking at the now-covered Madison.
"I only look young, actually, I'm not young at all." Ian didn't give an answer, merely emphasizing the fact that he was small in body but not in soul.
"That much is true."
Morpehus was a little surprised.
"Of course, it's true. Here's the thing, are you familiar with the Dreaming?" Ian had prepared for two scenarios. If he were caught out, he would claim it was to stimulate Morpheus's mind.
He would use intense stimulation to try and awaken Morpheus's memories, and he would, of course, earn another wave of favor for it. As for not being caught... what excuse did he need then?
Ian stood to gain no matter what.
"The Dreaming?" Morpheus covered his head and shook slightly. Unfortunately, the memories, which were like tiny fragments in his mind, could not be effectively pieced together.
"I remember that name. It is very important to me."
It was as if some force had violently shattered his memory, and that force was still affecting his recovery—perhaps someone didn't want him to remember certain things.
Morpheus was filled with doubt and apprehension.
At the same time.
Ian was observing Morpheus's reaction in the rearview mirror. He began thinking about his third plan: even if he couldn't successfully claim fatherhood, he had to secure a place for himself in the Dreaming.
"It's right that it's important. The Dreaming is a faraway place, and I am the Dream Shadow of that country, the most venerable person in the entire Dreaming. And you were personally appointed by me as the King of Dreams."
Ian had recently studied the course The Art of Lying.
Truth and falsehood needed to be mixed together.
The effect was quite remarkable.
Morpheus's bewildered expression already showed a slight loss of certainty.
"King of Dreams..." Morpheus muttered to himself. His incomplete memory told him that Ian might not be lying, yet his intuition told him something was wrong.
'This is someone who understands me very, very well.' Morpheus judged in his heart.
Ian pressed his advantage.
"Think about it, under what circumstances would I make someone a King? To hand over an entire country to this person?" His tone was full of enticing guidance.
"When I am important to you?"
Morpheus was quick to offer a reasonable guess.
"Yes, exactly. It seems you've caught on."
Ian smiled and patted the steering wheel of the passenger seat—the spot was unfamiliar to him, and he had only chosen to sit back in the car to look after two people.
Faced with Ian's praise.
Morpheus couldn't help but sigh.
"I feel like you're about to con me into a limp." He certainly couldn't believe Ian was truly his father, but everything Ian said felt incredibly familiar.
"Don't be like that. Just call me 'Father,' and I won't even need you to wire me fifty dollars or unseal some Dream Army. I'll simply help you find all your lost memories for free."
Ian was still unwilling to give up.
He just wanted to establish the deepest possible bond with the other party.
However.
Morpheus simply wouldn't take the bait.
"You are too young."
The amnesiac Dream God shook his head.
His black hair swayed against his cheeks.
"Youth is not my problem. As long as you choose to believe, anything is possible—give me a chance!" Ian regretted not having learned psychology, that incredibly practical course.
Hearing this.
Morpheus was silent for a long time.
"You've given yourself away!" He pulled back his fringe and covered his forehead, looking utterly helpless, unsure how to judge the master manipulator before him. Of course, the amnesiac man was also puzzled why a feeling of gratitude was welling up inside him, even though this person was attempting to trick him into calling him 'Dad.'
"I see. So, we are actually brothers?"
Morpheus was trying hard to make a reasonable guess.
He felt an inexplicable closeness to Ian.
This time.
It was Ian's turn to be silent for a long time.
"No, I still want to be your dad. Your sister promised me." Overly greedy people might be like this, Ian chose not to settle for less.
His tone was one of persistence.
"..."
The car cabin fell silent again.
Morpheus was about to pull out all his own hair.
"I have a sister?"
Morpheus felt it was difficult to process the complex information.
"Yes, you ran into trouble, and it was your sister who begged me to rescue you from that trouble." Ian's expression was slightly downcast because his plan hadn't succeeded.
"An elder sister is like a mother. Look how worried she was... Hmm? An elder sister is like a mother? Well, from that perspective, we can also be brothers, but I must be the elder brother."
"An elder brother is also like a father."
A thought flashed through his mind.
He made another attempt, still unwilling to give up.
Such a tricky angle.
It made Morpheus's CPU stall.
He didn't understand why the boy in front of him was so obsessed with being his father.
Did this involve some kind of bet?
Morpheus was at a loss.
"Give up. I've seen right through you." Morpheus sighed. In the end, he didn't let Ian have his way. He rubbed his hair and couldn't help but ask:
"You said I ran into trouble. Can you elaborate on that?" Morpheus's tone was worried. He felt as if he had forgotten something very important.
"Actually, I'm not entirely sure."
Ian's tone became a little more serious. "Perhaps it's because you hosted a feast for the witches outside the Dreaming, but you missed one, so the uninvited witch held a grudge?"
His words made Morpheus's expression rather odd.
"That's the story of Sleeping Beauty."
The ancient deity detected a slightly familiar flavor.
"You don't sound like you have amnesia."
Ian, caught with his storybook pieced together, sighed helplessly.
He wasn't lying.
That was indeed the situation. Ian knew very little, only that Morpheus was indeed imprisoned by an evil witch through a spell.
Sandman.
Sleeping Beauty.
All the same.
All of them were caught by a witch.
No one knew why Morpheus was captured by the Supreme Witch.
"Amnesia doesn't mean I lack common sense." Morpheus hadn't actually remembered too many things, but he was instinctively able to recall some fragmented information.
"I lost some things, my... power." This was the only thing Morpheus could recall. However, he felt there was something even more important he hadn't remembered.
Extremely important.
And extremely urgent.
"The Supreme Bone was dug out. I'm familiar with that. As long as you..." Before Ian could finish his sentence, Morpheus guessed what he was about to say, and the man quickly interrupted Ian.
"No, I absolutely will not call you that term. Give up." Morpheus was very cautious. "You've been manipulating me for so long, you should at least tell me my name, shouldn't you?"
He felt that he might be able to start from this point to retrieve his lost, or rather, shattered memories influenced by some force. A voice within his heart was urging him to recall everything quickly.
"."
Ian chose to give up. "I remember that day. Yes, yes. When you were born, the forests of the entire Dreaming were whispering this name—Morpheus."
Of course.
He might not have completely given up.
"..."
Morpheus was utterly helpless.
However.
He didn't dwell on it with Ian, because he knew Ian had told him the truth. Morpheus, the name struck his heart like a bolt of lightning.
"I..."
When Morpheus heard his name, his head began to buzz. Fine beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, and his long fingers unconsciously gripped the leather seat.
Countless fragments of memory surged in his mind—starry, brilliant castles, library bookshelves, the sound of a raven flapping its wings—they were all like broken mirrors that couldn't be pieced together.
However.
Morpheus, who had already anticipated this, was desperately searching, trying to capture the most crucial piece of information he had to recall from those flashing memory fragments.
Effort was eventually rewarded.
In Morpheus's eyes, a piece of shattered memory was reflected. The next moment, his expression immediately became serious, and he spoke to Ian in a slightly anxious tone.
"You must convey this information to them. Due to the loss of my power, I cannot contact them directly." Morpheus looked left and right as if searching for something.
"What information?"
Ian asked curiously.
Morpheus did not reply.
His gaze fixed on the pen in Ian's hand.
"Give it to me."
In that moment, his godhood seemed to take the upper hand, and his tone carried a sense of aloofness. Ian did not quibble but first handed Morpheus a pair of gloves.
"I asked for a pen and paper."
Morpheus frowned.
"I know what you asked for. However, you might not know that I am a qualified writer, so if you wish to borrow my pen, you need to wear a pair of gloves."
"Don't misunderstand. It's not that I think your hands are dirty. It's just that I'm quite a purist in this regard, I don't like being cuckolded." Ian's earnest explanation shocked Morpheus like a bolt of lightning.
He was greatly shaken.
Yet, he didn't know why he was shaken.
"Gulp~"
Swallowing his saliva.
Morpheus obediently put on the gloves. He really didn't want to hear any more shocking statements. "You need to pass this information on to them."
With that.
Taking the notebook and pen Ian handed him, Morpheus quickly began to draw in the notebook. "This thing was hidden in a diary and sent to our world."
"Because it used a seemingly harmless disguise, it's very likely that it went unnoticed by us." The scratching sound of the pen nib on the paper filled the car cabin.
Morpheus's drawing speed was also very swift.
Such a solemn warning.
It made Ian suspect that the man had already regained his memory.
"It's fine. You draw. When you've finished drawing, your sister should know. She often lurks in some place, excessively shyly peeking into my private life."
Ian guessed this matter must involve an invasion from an external universe.
"Hmm?"
Morpheus looked at Ian in confusion.
He stopped drawing.
"Done? What did you draw?"
Ian was amazed by the other party's speed, which was comparable to his own.
His divine power didn't seem to be completely lost.
"Disaster."
Morpheus's tone was low.
"It might still be weak now, but it will eventually absorb our sustenance and grow strong." He gave a serious warning, handing the notebook back to Ian.
"That sounds scary."
Ian hadn't had a chance to look yet.
He saw Morpheus open the car door and step out.
"I leave it to you all. I need to go find my... Supreme Bone?" Well, Morpheus's memory had not recovered, he was ultimately still partly influenced by Ian.
Seeing the Dream God about to leave without looking back.
"Don't get caught again, and most importantly, don't forget that I saved your life, which would interfere with my taking advantage of the kindness I showed." Ian honestly and loudly instructed Morpheus.
He saw the Dream God's back stiffen for a moment.
However.
He did not refuse.
He just quickened his pace slightly.
"Sigh."
Ian turned his head glumly and picked up the drawing Morpheus had left behind—he saw that Morpheus's drawing style was very refined, as if he could still utilize some of the Dream Power within his body.
The sketch was flowing.
The creature depicted showed a form that violated geometry. The main outline was close to human, yet it was broken and reassembled in key places. Twelve tentacles of varying thickness extended from the part above the neck.
The head was humanoid, but long, constantly wriggling tentacles replaced the hair. It had dark skin, a slender figure, and its torso was covered in constantly shifting, ominous patterns.
Just looking at it.
Ian clearly felt an indescribable malice, like the deepest fears of human cognition being concretized and then meticulously packaged into a seemingly rational geometric form. It perfectly illustrated what was "unnameable," not just because language was insufficient to describe it, but also because of its chaotic and unstable nature.
"Damn it!"
Ian suddenly remembered the contaminated Supreme Witch, the strange black mist pouring out of her body, and the plants that had mutated after being affected by the black mist.
"Cthulhu invasion!"
Ian slammed the notebook shut.
If he looked at it one more time, he felt like he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.
"I've been contaminated by the Cthulhu virus." Ian quickly clasped his hands together and began to pray. This time, he didn't ask Miss Death what color shroud she liked.
Therefore.
Miss Death responded quickly.
When Ian opened his eyes.
The woman sitting in the back had already appeared in the rearview mirror.
"Is there anything you are afraid to do?"
Miss Death had changed her attire. She was wearing a black lace dress paired with a motorcycle leather jacket and studded short boots, looking as if she were going to a Gothic music festival. She still held a drink, which she was swirling, and was looking at the boy in front of her with a rather strange expression.
"I didn't do anything, did I?"
Ian was extremely aggrieved.
"I wanted you to become his friend, not for you to try and become his father!" Miss Death's tone was incredulous. Perhaps she really hadn't expected Ian to be so outrageously bold.
Clearly.
The goddess had indeed been watching all along. At least, Ian believed that in this regard, he wasn't spreading rumors. Heaven knows when Miss Death would start her peeking.
"It all means the same thing, actually."
Ian wasn't aggrieved anymore. He just blinked.
"..."
The teacup in Miss Death's hand did not sway, but the corner of her mouth twitched slightly.
She probably wanted to swear, but fearing Ian might mistake it for a declaration of love, she ultimately swallowed the words that were about to escape her lips.
"Cthulhu, right. I came to you to talk about this."
Ian quickly handed over the drawing, but Miss Death didn't take it. Since she was a peeker, she must have seen the entire process of Morpheus drawing the picture.
"We will find this thing."
Miss Death's expression showed no sign of worry.
"What if this thing is very well hidden?"
Ian scratched his head, his tone slightly worried. Although he had suffered a loss from only having two eyes, he didn't want a second Little Ian to sprout out of him.
"Since the target has been confirmed, without protection from a high-level power, it is impossible for it to evade our sight." Miss Death slowly took a sip of the tea in her cup.
She looked quite leisurely, and her tone was confident.
"Mm-hmm, that's good."
Hearing Miss Death say this, Ian felt relieved. The big shots certainly had better judgment than he did. After all, he was only a Metropolitan boy who had been out in the world for less than two and a half years.
"I don't want to keep this. It's bad luck." Ian still handed the drawing, along with his Pure Love Pen, back to Miss Death, fearing that merely drawing it would contaminate him with genuine misfortune.
"You should keep your lover."
Miss Death gently squeezed the paper. The moment her fingertips touched the paper, the distorted lines suddenly froze, and then completely disappeared, as if they had never existed.
"I must say, you three brothers have a way of doing things... you all have your own unique preferences." Miss Death tossed the drawing and the pen back, sincerely sighing with emotion.
"Since you said that, I definitely can't keep this pen that you cuckolded. The next one will be more obedient." Ian threw the pen and the drawing back onto Miss Death's lap again.
His excessive caution turned him from a purist into a scumbag.
"?????"
Miss Death was clearly caught off guard by this.
After a long silence.
"Keep an eye on Morpheus for me. Don't let him get captured again." She spoke again. Indeed, Ian wasn't the only one worried about this, Miss Death's instruction was unusually serious.
"Got it! I'm watching him."
Ian magically pulled out a book with a grotesque cover from under his butt. The book had long been transformed into Ian's Wisdom Navigation, and a flattering, dog-like smiley face was affectionately pasted on the cover.
Flipping open the inner pages.
It displayed the real-time location of the Dream God, whose status had fallen.
"You have quite a bit of foresight."
Miss Death's lips curved into a slight smile.
"I actually learned all my bad habits from Batman." Ian sighed. Constantly being around bad women and bad men, it was really hard to maintain a pure, childlike heart.
"Batman learning bad habits from you is more like it."
Miss Death's eyes were disdainful.
Ian pretended not to hear and spoke with a probing tone. "I suppose I've completed the task, right? Not only did I save Morpheus, but I also used strategy to obtain information about his misfortune."
He emphasized the word 'strategy.'
Miss Death, however, beat him at his own game.
She was one hundred percent pretending not to have noticed Ian's emphasis. Of course, regarding Ian's sudden attempt to claim credit, Miss Death didn't pretend not to guess the boy's thoughts.
"I suppose you did complete it."
The moment her words fell.
[Status Weight has Risen]
Ian's system notification followed immediately.
"The reward we promised you has been delivered. In the future, you will feel just how generous it is." Miss Death clearly did not know that Ian could feel the so-called reward in real time.
She nodded at Ian, and the next moment, she vanished from the back seat. Ian came to his senses and quickly checked his system. Sure enough, his data had new changes.
[Name: Ian Kent]
[Normal Profession: Student LV8 (78/1280), Writer LV3 (11/40), Leader LV1 (1/10)]
[Supernatural Profession: Berserker LV6 (16/320), Savage Tyrant LV5 (43/160)]
[World Recognition: Key NPC]
...
In reality.
Ian's World Recognition was already quite high.
His last few upgrades had failed to increase his Status Weight, proving that his World Recognition had reached a sufficient height after the previous reward.
Now.
A new rise appeared again.
The original [Independent NPC] recognition had become [Key NPC] recognition. As someone who had self-studied scriptwriting, Ian could generally figure out the meaning of this change.
An Ordinary NPC naturally needed no explanation: a background character with no independent plotline, only providing basic interactive functions, and sometimes dying in large numbers to increase the severity of an [Event].
As family members of a superhero, such NPCs were likely to be sacrificed. Fortunately, Ian was no longer at that level, and his original [Independent NPC] status also had significance.
According to scriptwriting logic.
An [Independent NPC] is connected to the main plot or important side quests, has a complete backstory, can affect the direction of local plotlines, and might even have their own exclusive stories.
Of course.
There was still a chance of being sacrificed in a major event. But Status Weight like [Key NPC] belonged to popular characters, a superior category in storytelling that was somewhat blessed by destiny.
"I've become more venerable in DC again." Ian had received his reward. Not even Cthulhu could affect his mood. Now, he only wanted to celebrate properly.
...
The aroma of roast beef wafted through the Kent family dining room. Lois placed the last dish of creamed corn in the center of the table. Steam curled up under the warm yellow light.
Jordan kept his head down, practically burying his face in his plate, anxiously fiddling with the edge of his fork. He was rigid, adopting a sheepish, embarrassed posture.
"So you lost control of your power and accidentally smashed the roof while playing ball in the room," Lois gently stroked her younger son's curly hair, comforting him in a soft voice.
"Don't worry, you didn't do it on purpose. Your dad will fix the roof." If she hadn't mentioned Clark, Jordan might have been fine, but the moment she did, his body tensed up even more.
He secretly glanced at his father.
Clark silently chewed his food.
He just kept eating his vegetables.
He didn't offer any comment.
"Whew~"
Jordan let out a long breath and forced himself to start eating.
"I really didn't do it on purpose."
He admitted to the part that was agreeable to acknowledge.
Hearing this.
Lois also expressed her understanding.
"Martha used to say that your dad often lost control of his powers when he was a kid, too." Lois continued to console her younger son, filling Jordan's plate with roast beef.
"Really!?"
Jordan's eyes suddenly widened. Unsure what he had thought of, he looked at his father with a dubious gaze, while Clark continued to bury his head in his food, remaining silent.
His mouth was full of food.
The sound of frantic chewing was very noticeable.
"Say something. Are you still thinking about that Green-Eyed Superman? You should understand that if Ian can drink the serum, others might also be able to drink that kind of serum and succeed."
"My father is already going to investigate."
Lois's expression was quite puzzled. She looked at her husband, who was normally not taciturn, and wondered why he wasn't cooperating with her to encourage their son.
Clark swallowed the food in his mouth and helplessly pointed to the ceiling.
"I'm not thinking about that guy. I'm not talking because Ian is too loud, I can't hear anything else." He was, of course, using his younger son to try and change the subject.
The effect was quite good.
"Hmm?"
Lois looked up, extremely surprised, her tone carrying a hint of astonishment. "Ian is upstairs? Didn't he say he wouldn't eat dinner and would stay out a little longer?"
This was the information she had learned from her phone call with Ian. Jordan also looked up. His eyes could penetrate physical obstacles, but he saw nothing but the hole in the roof.
There was no one in Ian's room.
"He's in the sky."
Clark finally began to instruct his younger son. "You should listen carefully. He's circling right above our house, flying around and around, flying around and around."
"He's already done over three hundred laps."
Although he brought up Ian to change the subject, Clark's expression was genuinely one of helplessness. When he first awakened his flying ability, he hadn't had such a strong desire to show it off.
"I can fly now too."
Jordan was immediately choked by his father's stare the moment he spoke.
He quickly lowered his head and started picking at the peas on his plate.
"He's a child. He just awakened his ability. This is normal." Lois looked meaningfully at her husband, lightly tapping the table with her fingers, her eyes carrying a sense of being inscrutable.
Superman Serum.
Was the effect really that good?
Lois still harbored a slight suspicion regarding this matter.
And right at that moment.
*slap*
Clark suddenly slapped his forehead.
"What is it now?" Lois speared a carrot with her fork.
"Ian just rescued a plane with engine trouble."
Clark's expression was like he'd swallowed a lemon.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
Lois's eyes lit up.
She was very happy to see her son following in his father's footsteps.
"Firstly, that plane only had one engine fail. Secondly, absolutely no one would make 'ooh-ooh~' sounds while rescuing a plane."
Clark's mouth twitched. As a professional airplane rescuer for thirty years, his words certainly carried weight. "He's been holding the plane with both hands and circling in the sky for three laps now."
"The crew and passengers all think they encountered a ghost." The old father's voice carried an indescribable emotion. He was indeed able to accurately hear everything happening in the sky above.
What was this?
Playing with a paper airplane?
An eerie silence fell over the dining table. Jordan's fork paused in mid-air, and a pea *clinked* back onto his plate. Just then, the sound of a key turning in the front door lock was heard.
Jonathan walked in, carrying large bags and bundles, still bringing in the evening chill.
"Where did you go today? On a date?" Lois immediately put on a gentle smile, starting to ask about her son's private life like most parents.
Fortunately, Jonathan was not the rebellious type.
"I went to the church and picked up some things on the way."
Jonathan put the shopping bags on the floor and honestly answered his itinerary. Lois casually opened the shopping bags and found they contained no snacks or daily necessities.
The heavy bags.
They were full of all kinds of deity statues.
Jesus, Buddha, Zeus, Odin, Ra, Vishnu... there were so many types. Jonathan had probably bought every statue that could be found on Earth.
Lois, Jordan, and Clark all looked at Jonathan with confused expressions.
"What is this for?"
Lois suspected Jonathan had been scammed.
Hearing this.
Jonathan shyly scratched his head.
"I mainly thought that when it comes to faith, the more you believe in, the better. It surely can't hurt." He flashed his signature sunny smile, but his words had a slight [Silence] effect on others.
"Why is Dad in here, too?"
Jordan quietly pulled out a still slightly warm statue from the bag.
"Ian said this one is a must-believe, and I thought he made sense. I even made statues of him and you." Jonathan's response was deafening, but the statues he pulled out made the dining room even quieter.
Perhaps this was the family bond.
The Kents.
They truly seemed to be a bit unique.
Look.
Lois gripped the wine bottle again. The Rational Woman was about to start rationalizing.