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

Page 303

Uriel stood to the side, his hands folded inside the sleeves of his robe, his expression calm.

“Even if you don’t open the door, he will still come in.” He turned his head slightly and looked at the area where Ian had walked before. “We can all see how dazzling the glory radiating from him was.”

“Even far more than you and me.”

Uriel was clearly implying something.

"What do you mean by that?" Michael turned his head sharply, his bright white pupils filled with scrutiny, his voice low and dangerous.

“No one dares to bomb God’s dwelling place, unless that person…” Uriel did not answer directly, but looked up at the sky above heaven, as if he was thinking about something.

He didn't finish his sentence.

"Don't overthink it. That boy isn't God; it's just that the Lord's gaze lingered on him a few times," Michael interrupted coldly, his tone resolute.

Uriel did not back down; instead, he smiled gently.

“Then tell me, how long has it been since you last heard His voice?” This time he was not intimidated, but looked directly at Michael, his tone full of meaning.

Michael's face turned unusually gloomy.

He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a cold laugh: "You think this can shake my beliefs? Don't try to influence me anymore, stop with your little tricks."

"After that, I also want to give you a piece of advice, Uriel—don't be so clever as to always try to guess the Lord's thoughts." After saying that, he suddenly spread his incomparably dazzling wings.

The figure transformed into a blazing white light and disappeared into the horizon.

Uriel watched silently in the direction he had left, his eyes devoid of any emotion. He slowly turned to look at the Wen family duo standing on the grass—Dean and Sam.

Dean and Sam exchanged bewildered glances. The conversation had been so information-heavy that they couldn't process it all at once. After a moment's hesitation, Sam couldn't help but ask a question.

Is Ian really an angel?

He still couldn't quite accept the style Ian had previously displayed. Look how cool Michael was when he left; those wings with tons of special effects were completely different from Ian's so-called wings.

“That’s not a question you should be asking.” Uriel maintained his smile; his voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable authority. Even angels are not immune to their arrogance when facing mortals.

"Okay, all we want to do right now is go home."

Dean didn't want to make a fool of himself.

He wanted to leave this damned paradise as soon as possible.

“Of course, no problem. You don’t belong here.” Uriel turned his head, his deep gaze falling on Dean, a gentle yet enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

“However, that will take some time. Until then, just tell me what you want.” His voice was gentle, with a reassuring tone.

Dean raised an eyebrow and said without hesitation, "Fine wine."

Sam glanced at his brother, then whispered, "...Mom."

Dean turned his head sharply: "You can do that?"

Uriel chuckled: "Either is fine."

As he finished speaking, the surrounding light distorted slightly, as if some unseen force was weaving reality. However, this was exactly what Dean and Sam expected.

Uriel spoke slowly again.

"However, you must grant me one small request."

His tone was as gentle as ever.

However, Dean immediately became alert at that moment.

"What request?"

The eldest of the Wen family's twin brothers' eyes became wary. Uriel's gaze passed over Dean and landed on Sam—or rather, his eyes were fixed on Lucifer's appearance.

"I'm going to put something inside your brother's body."

Uriel whispered his request.

The atmosphere was somewhat tense.

"no problem."

Sam hardly hesitated.

He nodded in agreement immediately.

He desperately wanted to know what kind of person his mother was.

"Wait! Wait!" Dean suddenly stepped in front of his brother, staring wide-eyed at Uriel. "You're not talking about 'a certain part' of your body, are you?"

The boy's eyes showed even greater wariness.

"??????"

The cherubim's smile froze on her face for the second time.

After a few seconds of silence, Uriel took a deep breath and tried to maintain an elegant tone, "No, no, it's just some harmless little secrets."

"I want to hide it on someone no one would expect." Angels may not like to lie, but like Ian, they don't tell the whole truth most of the time.

Dean and Sam are still too young.

"A secret?"

Dean was conflicted.

But before he could ask any further questions, Uriel waved his hand lightly—and the next second, a bottle of fine wine shimmering with golden light appeared in the air.

The wine flowed slowly in the bottle, as if containing the radiance of stars. And beside the fine wine, a familiar figure gradually solidified—Mary Winchester.

The mother of the Wen family duo stood there, gazing at them tenderly. Sam looked slightly trembling, Dean was stunned, and Mary opened her arms to them.

The two brothers went to meet him almost instinctively.

He hugged her tightly.

Uriel stood to the side, watching the scene silently, his eyes deep. His fingertips twitched slightly, and a barely perceptible ray of light silently disappeared into Sam's back. Neither Dean nor Sam were still immersed in the warmth of their reunion; neither noticed the fleeting light.

Cherubim's actions were very covert.

Almost no one could see it—almost because Michael was a witness; he did not actually leave, but gazed at it all from the immeasurable heavens above.

however.

Even after witnessing Uriel's actions, the Seraphim King did not intervene. He simply watched quietly before turning his gaze back to the mortal realm.

His pupils reflected the figures of Ian and the King in Yellow—after being banished by Michael using his authority, the two filthy things in Michael's eyes also fell directly to the mortal realm.

"boom!!!"

In St. Peter's Square in the Vatican, a blinding flash of fire descended from the sky and slammed into the central obelisk. Debris flew, dust billowed, and tourists screamed and scattered in all directions.

Amidst the smoke and dust, Ian, covered in soot, scrambled to his feet, his eight spider legs snapping open again. He shook his head and immediately spotted the Yellow King lying at the bottom of the pit—his once mysterious yellow robe was now tattered, the hood torn in half, revealing a distorted shape beneath.

He was very weak.

But it was just weakness.

The yellow fabric that appeared to be burned was turning into fine dust that drifted in the air, and these dust particles floating in the air would suddenly distort at certain angles.

Every speck of dust had a sickly, dark yellow sheen, refracting a dizzying, distorted halo of light in the sunlight—the air was filled with an indescribable smell, neither foul nor pleasant, like trying to recall a scent that had never existed before; that emptiness itself was part of the pollution.

Invisible pollution is spreading in all directions.

"Oh my god! What happened?!"

"They fell from the sky... My eyeballs, my eyeballs are popping out!"

"Don't look! Don't look at them!"

……

The surrounding tourists were terrified. Some screamed and called the police, some knelt down and prayed, and many more just stood there, unable to believe they were being contaminated. Their eyes began to tremble in unison, their pupils dilating and contracting, as if resisting some kind of image invading their optic nerves.

Some people knelt down and prayed.

Surprisingly, it actually worked.

then.

More and more people rushed into the church.

They were receiving the last remaining divine protection within the church.

outside.

The city was falling to the enemy on a large scale.

The water in the fountain had turned a filthy color, and countless blurry human faces appeared on its surface. Those faces had no features, only mouths that opened and closed repeatedly.

They were repeating incoherent babbling in sync with each other.

"No, I've tried so hard, why won't you die?" Without saying another word, Ian pounced on the King in Yellow, straddling him and gripping his neck tightly with both hands.

They returned to the human world.

This was a situation Ian had not anticipated.

He was in an extremely small city, and he dared not use the Ultra Bomb at will. Now he could only begin to mentally prepare himself.

"Should I eat it? Or should I eat it... It's really hard to eat, and there's no experience or reward..." Ian freed one hand and drew the holy sword from behind his back.

He genuinely found it difficult to accept Cthulhu sashimi.

I'd like to try some other things.

This weapon, which had gone on strike in heaven, has now been reignited with a blazing holy flame.

"Ha! As expected, once you leave that broken chair, you're just a slightly higher-level evil god!" Ian was overjoyed and plunged the holy sword into the Yellow King's chest without hesitation.

This time, the blade did not miss.

Blazing white flames surged wildly along the sword into the Yellow King's body, causing his yellow robe to burst into flames, the fabric twisting and carbonizing to reveal an indescribable chaos beneath. Strangely, the Yellow King remained silent, merely gazing at Ian as if deep in thought.

His true nature has been revealed.

Under the scorching heat of the holy sword, that false "human form" was torn apart, revealing countless intertwined, indescribable, writhing tentacles and a terrifying core that was difficult for ordinary people to look at directly.

Pollution is spreading, as if an invisible hand is manipulating the boundaries of reality. An indescribable odor permeates the air, like rotting reason.

It's like a ballad filled with filth.

People fell one after another, their bodies twisting and mutating, patterns that did not belong to this world appearing in their pupils, and they murmured ancient words.