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

Page 457

"Well... I am indeed allergic to this."

Ian finally put down his strange spoon, looked up, and nodded solemnly at Emily with an extremely serious gaze, as if stating a universal truth.

“Emily, I know you’re a good girl, but I’m just too fragile. I’m allergic to a lot of things and I’m destined to be an allergy sufferer.”

Ian subtly rejected Emily's advances. Emily's face instantly turned from red to white, then from white to pale. A mix of shame, anger, grievance, and disbelief welled up, instantly bringing tears to her eyes. She slammed her lunchbox shut with a loud "bang," glared at Ian, and her voice trembled with emotion.

"Ian! I hate you!"

Like a melancholic story from a romance drama, after finishing her sentence, she picked up her lunchbox and ran away without looking back, her back view filled with grief and indignation. According to the rules, she would hate Ian for at least one class period this time.

"Hey."

Ian watched Emily's figure disappear into the crowd in the cafeteria and sighed heavily. She couldn't understand why Emily couldn't like other American girls, and that her feelings for him would only last for a short time.

"If everyone were like that delinquent girl, that would be great." Having no other idea, Ian picked up his spoon again and continued enjoying his lunch, which looked unappetizing but was supposedly extremely nutritious.

The world is finally clean.

Ian also had time to do some research on his new career.

He poked at the "mineral gel" he had added to the food in the plate with his peculiar spoon, which was still slightly changing color.

Meanwhile, he also recalled the system interface that had been dormant for some time in his mind. Ever since it "devoured" Belial's dark essence, this system of unknown origin had unlocked a new job template that looked extremely sophisticated but was also extremely abstract, and it had been in an inactive gray state.

At this moment, the gray interface was floating in his sea of ​​consciousness, exuding a cold yet imaginative aura.

[Unactivated Class: Lord of Embers]

[Job Description: You once illuminated the galaxy and witnessed the end of the universe. Your existence is both the dawn of civilization and the twilight of the old world.]

Light should not be prayed for; it should only be harnessed. Unquenchable light and blazing ashes burn within you, indifferent to justice, good and evil, measuring the value of all things solely by the standard of light. O king of light and ashes, you will ultimately, in your utter destruction, reshape the eternal cosmic order!

[Job Change Quest (Not yet available)]

【Mission Name: Reversal of Light and Darkness - A New Chapter of Stealing Fire】

[Mission Requirements: You need to find the 'Primordial Dark Core' of the rebellious light in the deepest abyss. Do not use force or reason to subdue it, but guide its inner paradox with your true capacity to completely reverse its dark nature and reshape it into a torch of pure light, so that the 'Shadow of the End' can rekindle the 'Radiance of the Beginning'.]

You will thus ignite the beginning of a new era.

The quest icon is surrounded by patterns interwoven with dark gold and crimson.

Like the remnants of a burning star.

Ian took a bite of the cookie, and cream spilled from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't notice.

“The Darkest Abyss… the Primal Dark Core… reversing the nature of darkness… reshaping the torch of light…” he muttered to himself, his mind racing, trying to understand what this enigmatic mission was trying to get him to do.

He didn't know what this "Primordial Dark Core" specifically referred to; it could be the dark heart of a certain universe, or a corrupted artifact.

It could also be... some fallen dark god himself.

Think of this.

Ian's eyes widened.

"hiss……"

Ian gasped, feeling a slight pain in his tooth.

He stared at the task description, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. The system never explained, only presented puzzles. And this task sounded both grand and absurd—to reverse "darkness" itself into "light"?

It's neither about defeating darkness nor sealing it away.

Instead, was it about taming darkness, making it willingly transform into light? The darkness that immediately came to mind was, of course, Lucifer's aunt, the human embodiment of the Great Darkness. Was he to be forced to truly educate the Great Darkness, and then brutally mold it into the righteous path?

Even Ian's super brain isn't enough.

He felt the system was malfunctioning.

How can I, with my weak arms and legs, confront the great darkness?

"Isn't this task a bit too difficult? 'Not to be won by force, not to be convinced by reason,' yet you want me to use my 'capacity' to guide the reversal of darkness?"

"Damn it, everyone knows that Ian has no magnanimity, only limits." Ian glanced at his pants. Whether in terms of physique or personality, he has always been very self-aware.

Ok.

Two sets of self-awareness.

The system seemed to be encouraging him to confront Lucifer's aunt. Once this thought appeared, it was like a root that wouldn't go away from Ian's mind.

"No way, absolutely no way!"

Ian shook his head vigorously.

"The Dark Lady, though she's right below my manor, is an ancient woman from billions of years ago. This isn't like using a star destroyer to swat a mosquito; it's like asking me to extinguish a solar fire with a toy water gun." He looked at the lofty job description in his mind with a worried expression, suspecting that his system might have been hacked by the shameless Dark Lady.

The Dark Lady might be a strange aunt, just like Lady God.

The little boy suddenly felt that life was hard.

Ian sighed and temporarily closed the system interface. The job change quest was tempting, but it was clearly not something he could consider right now. His priority was to get through this rare day without anything major happening.

Ian cherished the days when everything was normal and there were no major events. However, he had only just started to eat a few bites when someone sat down in the seat opposite him.

“Emily…you haven’t hated me for long enough today.” Ian put down his spoon helplessly, looked up, and saw an unexpected face.

Sam Winchester.

The younger of the two Wen family duo, Lucifer's vessel, was wearing a hoodie that looked like it hadn't been washed in a long time, exuding an aura of travel weariness and lack of sleep.

He looked much more haggard than when we last met, with stubble on his chin, sunken eyes, and his usually melancholic eyes now filled with bloodshot veins and deep anxiety.

"Hmm?" Ian raised an eyebrow, clearly recognizing the uninvited guest, but he said nothing. He simply lowered his head again and began chewing his lunch with even more gusto, almost retaliatory urges, as if he wanted to chew up everyone who had disturbed his meal.

"Um...Ian? Are you there?"

Sam sat there with his hands on the table, asking questions that were utterly absurd. He was clearly distracted, and even his fingers were unconsciously twisting together.

The knuckles are turning white.

Can you give me some kind of response?

He leaned slightly forward, appearing restless.

His eyes kept glancing at Ian, then warily scanning the noisy surroundings. This sense of alienation and tension made him look like a trapped beast that had strayed into a flock of sheep.

"Baji~baji~"

Ian ate a little louder.

Sam paused for a moment.

He waited a full minute, and seeing that Ian showed no intention of asking any questions and was even eating with increasing relish, he finally couldn't hold back any longer. His long-suppressed worry and fear seemed to have found a breakthrough, and he broke the silence first with a hoarse voice, his tone even carrying a hint of barely perceptible pleading.

"Aren't you...aren't you even a little bit curious about why I came to see you? Why...are you so restless?" He took the initiative to start a conversation with Ian.

Upon hearing this, Ian finally stopped his exaggerated chewing motions. He slowly swallowed what was in his mouth and then picked up a tissue with an abstract pattern to wipe his mouth.

“Okay, why are you so restless?” Ian asked in an extremely programmed tone, like a customer service recording.

They took politeness to the extreme.

As if finally granted permission, Sam's speech quickened instantly, and he said urgently, "It was my dad John and my brother Dean. They went to Wyoming yesterday to track down the last lead on that yellow-eyed devil! And then...and then they completely lost contact!"

"All the commonly used channels, safe house markings, and even the most secretive emergency contact methods we agreed on... all of them are gone! It's like they've vanished into thin air!"

His voice trembled slightly with excitement, and his eyes were bloodshot: "Those aren't ordinary demons! Ian! You know that! I'm worried about them..."

Speaking of it.

Sam didn't dare say much more, afraid that he would burst into tears if he spoke. After all, he was just a fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy, and even with his resume of returning from heaven, he was somewhat at a loss.

"Ok?"

After listening, Ian nodded thoughtfully, a perfectly measured expression of regret on his face, and then uttered two words most often heard at funerals.

"Condolences."

His words were concise and clear, and his expression was sincere.

It wasn't that Ian lacked curiosity and a kind nature; the main reason was that he was well aware of the deep connection between the Wen brothers and God, and at least Sam's older brother, Dean, wasn't someone who would die easily. The Wen brothers were practically a magnet for trouble; their affairs were always intertwined with that old man God's flawed plans, the power struggles within the angels, and the rebellion in Hell.

Ian himself didn't want to continue having too much contact with people related to God—mainly because he was afraid that the Goddess of Light, who was God's wife, would sleep with him by following the "network cable" that God had placed on the Wen family's duo.

"No, Ian, they might not be dead! They're just missing! Missing, you understand?! We need to find them, alive or dead! Right now, there's nothing!"

Sam felt as if he had been doused with a bucket of ice water, and hurriedly tried to explain, seemingly unaware of the real reason why Ian had lost interest.

“Okay, I understand. There are too many uncertainties, so directly saying ‘please accept my condolences’ would be a bit arbitrary. How about… ‘let’s mourn as if we’re in mourning’? Let’s start with hypothetical mourning and then officially mourn once the body is found. Neither way is wrong, and we have a basis for both.” Ian readily agreed and immediately changed his tune, his tone even carrying an air of agreement that “you make a lot of sense.”

"?????"

Sam's expression instantly turned as if he had swallowed a whole lemon and it was stuck in his throat. He simply couldn't understand Ian's bizarre thought process and choice of words.

What the hell is "Ru Ai"?

Is this how we mourn?

Although he'd known Ian for a while, Sam was still clearly not used to it. He took several deep breaths to barely suppress the urge to cry.

“Ian! Listen to me! You need to help me! Have you forgotten the Colt pistol you took?? That’s my family’s heirloom weapon, capable of killing almost any supernatural creature! You haven’t repaid us for that yet!” Sam may not know much else, but he’s quite adept at inflating the value of items.

Even family heirlooms have come up.

Ian blinked, as if he had just remembered this. He stroked his chin, pretending to think, and then suddenly flashed an extremely professional, enthusiastic smile, like that of a roadside vendor.

"Alright, I have a full range of funeral services. You can choose any auspicious burial site, whether it's hell or heaven. We also offer customized reincarnation packages, with options for the rich second generation or the second generation of officials."

"Which way do you think I should give in return?" Ian was indeed capable of doing these things, but Sam clearly didn't quite understand Mr. Ian's abilities.

"??????" The muscles in the second-generation Witcher's face contorted and shrank at a visible speed, as if he had been punched hard.

He lowered his voice.

She managed to squeeze out a sob through her teeth.

"I don't want my dad and brother to die like this. Didn't you say you're the Angel King? You must know what happened to them." He looked at Ian with pleading eyes.

"There are differences between angel kings. I am just a... well... a rather unconventional, not very competent angel king who usually uses his position to do some side jobs."

"I really didn't know whether your father and brother were still alive or not." Ian sighed upon seeing this, his little face twisting in distress.

Sam felt like he had grasped at a last straw.

"I have a lead, please help me, I beg you." He knew Ian was very capable, and perhaps only Ian could help him, so he made a pleading gesture with his hands.