Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [198]

The figure before Bruce was massive, with ashen skin and vacant, dim-witted eyes.

He wore a tattered jacket, with thick iron chains bound to each wrist. The chains were connected to two heavy iron balls, their clanging echoing with each movement like the prelude to death.

Solomon Grundy had arrived in Italy—an immortal zombie!

In one of Batman’s confidential future dossiers, he had written:

“When I was a child, my father told me there were no ghosts or monsters. He was wrong.
Solomon Grundy is proof—an undead juggernaut with strength rivaling Superman’s.
Grundy isn’t like Superman, nor is he like any ordinary human. He’s immortal. Long after I’m gone, he will still ‘live.’”

Immense strength. Immortality.

Solomon Grundy was DC’s own unstoppable force—a relentless Hulk in his own right.

“You—”

Bruce furrowed his brow, starting to speak, but Grundy’s enormous fist swung toward him before he could finish.

Words were unnecessary for Grundy. An enemy was something to be destroyed.

The punch came quickly, accompanied by the clatter of chains, and crashed into the ground with a resounding impact.

But it didn’t hit Bruce.

In the blink of an eye, Bruce had shifted positions, his body seeming to teleport to another spot. Grundy’s attack struck only air.

“You’re fast,” Grundy said in a dull, almost childlike tone. “I like that.”

With those words, he swung the iron balls attached to his chains in a devastating arc.

Once again, Bruce dodged effortlessly, his movements almost spectral.

Bruce had been carefully observing Grundy.

Although Kathoom had shared some background about Grundy’s origins and abilities, this was Bruce’s first encounter with him. The unique nature of this undead being intrigued him.

Was Grundy, who had risen from the dead, still the same person as he was in life?

If so…

Bruce shook off the thought. He feared the temptation of that line of reasoning—it might lead him to experiment with reviving the dead.

His rational mind screamed that such endeavors were wrong.

Meanwhile, Grundy’s frustration grew. Missing his target repeatedly made him increasingly irate.

He unleashed a frenzy of wild attacks—his massive fists and iron chains tearing through the air with brute force, each impact shaking the ground.

Yet Bruce’s figure remained elusive, slipping out of harm’s way at every critical moment, reappearing in another location as if he were a mirage.

To an ordinary observer, this was the power of the Speed Force.

“This is getting tedious…”

As Grundy swung his fist yet again, Bruce decided not to dodge this time.

He raised his arm and caught the punch head-on.

Grundy’s fist, nearly the size of half of Bruce’s body, collided with an immovable object.

A black metallic sheen spread across Bruce’s arm, enveloping him entirely.

The Hellbat Armor had been deployed, completing its transformation in an instant.

“My turn.”

Bruce extended his free hand, and Grundy paused, confused by the gesture.

Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air.

Something struck Grundy from behind, sending him sprawling across the ground.

Dazed, Grundy looked up to see what had hit him: a large, enchanted warhammer.

Bruce extended his hand, and Mjolnir flew back to him. With a sharp motion, he hurled the hammer at Grundy once more.

Boom!

Mjolnir smashed into Grundy’s chest, the crushing force caving it in entirely.

“Urgh…”

Grundy coughed up a mouthful of blood, collapsing motionless to the ground.

Was he dead?

Just as the thought crossed Bruce’s mind, he saw Grundy’s caved-in chest begin to heal.

In moments, it was as if nothing had happened.

However, with Mjolnir still pinning him to the ground, Grundy couldn’t move.

Bruce approached cautiously, his guard never dropping.

“Impressive regeneration,” he mused.

Killing an undead being was no simple task—how do you kill someone who’s already dead?

It was a conundrum that frustrated Bruce.

While Grundy wasn’t invincible, defeating him permanently was another matter. Even if Bruce managed to kill him temporarily, Grundy would eventually rise again.

“For now, I’ll imprison him,” Bruce thought.

Once he acquired the Mother Box, he might be able to find a way to neutralize Grundy’s immortality.

With Mjolnir holding Grundy down, there wasn’t much danger for the moment.

Bruce’s plan seemed sound—until the unexpected happened.

Boom!

A massive shockwave erupted from beneath the ground, shaking the entire courtyard.

A green figure burst forth, sending dirt and debris flying in all directions.

It was a half-man, half-plant creature, its body entwined with dead branches and lush leaves.

Its glowing red eyes peered out from a forested visage, and behind it unfolded enormous wings crafted from brittle autumn leaves and dark crimson maple leaves.

The Swamp Thing had arrived.

As the Gray’s avatar, Grundy’s presence had attracted the attention of the Parliament of Trees. Their champion, the Swamp Thing, had come to confront him.

The two were bound to meet eventually, but Bruce hadn’t expected it to happen now, of all times—right when he was searching for the Mother Box.

The Swamp Thing hovered in the air, his wings flapping gently.

In his hands, he cradled a black metal cube.

Its surface writhed and shifted as if the material itself were alive, constantly dissolving and reassembling.

The Mother Box.

Bruce’s heart sank.

For the Swamp Thing, locating the Mother Box was easy. The plants across Earth served as his eyes, and their roots could search underground effortlessly.

But how had the Swamp Thing learned about the Mother Box in the first place?

Bruce’s decision to search for it had been a spur-of-the-moment idea. Yet Grundy and the Swamp Thing had both appeared in rapid succession.

Something was off.

It felt as though someone had anticipated his every move.

His suspicions were confirmed when a figure appeared atop the monastery’s spire.

The Merciless.

Dressed in blue armor and with his long white hair flowing in the breeze, he stood with his arms crossed, exuding a cold, regal authority.

“You’ve been careless, Bruce,” the Merciless said, his voice echoing. “Do you realize how conspicuous you are when using the Speed Force? It’s as if you’re broadcasting your location to the entire world!

“That owl gave you a chance at survival, but you’ve squandered it.”

The Merciless’s tone was filled with disdain, but Bruce, upon seeing his adversary, felt an unexpected sense of relief.

“Good,” Bruce said. “I was starting to worry there was a puppeteer behind this war.”

If the Merciless was the mastermind, that was manageable. An overt enemy was far easier to deal with than an unseen hand.

“You’re controlling both of them?” Bruce asked. “Using that mind-control ability of yours?”

Kathoom had mentioned the Merciless’s penchant for theatrics.

He reveled in displays of domination—whether creating a stone throne amidst the ruins of a battle or forcing enemies to kneel before him.

Today was no different. He had chosen the highest point in the area to underscore his superiority.

“Controlling them was simple,” the Merciless said coolly. “One is mindless, the other obsessed with plants.”

In contrast, controlling Bruce’s mind was far more complicated.

Bruce sighed. “Impressive technique. But how did you know I’d be looking for the Mother Box?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” the Merciless said with a dismissive wave.

At his command, Grundy and the Swamp Thing sprang into action.

Grundy, immobilized by Mjolnir, was no immediate threat.

But the Swamp Thing was a different story.

Hovering midair, he didn’t attack directly. Instead, the seemingly harmless plants around Bruce began to stir.

In an instant, they grew wildly, transforming into towering trees.

The once modest monastery courtyard became an impenetrable forest.

Bruce, now surrounded by thrashing vines and branches, remained calm.

He tilted his head back, observing the dense canopy overhead.

“Thank you, Swamp Thing,” he said softly. “You’ve just bought me the time I needed.”

Red lightning flashed in his eyes.

From his vantage point, the Merciless watched the unfolding chaos, but his sharp gaze couldn’t pierce the forest’s cover.

Bruce, Grundy, and the Swamp Thing had all vanished into the green expanse.

Moments later, a red streak of lightning zipped through the forest, and the Merciless froze.

Could Bruce’s escape have been part of his plan all along?

The Merciless leapt from the spire, slicing through the forest in a single stroke to reveal an empty clearing.

Bruce had vanished—along with Grundy and the Swamp Thing.

And this time, he wasn’t just hiding on Earth.

He was gone, somewhere far beyond.

—

Earth -11, a world long since destroyed.

The planet’s surface lay barren and lifeless, shrouded in desolation.

Ruined structures stood as silent witnesses to what must have once been a glorious civilization. Now, only death remained.

Suddenly, a crimson portal appeared, and three figures tumbled out.

“So, this is the place?”

Bruce rose to his feet, surveying the wasteland.

This is the Merciless’s home?

It looked utterly miserable.

—

This is a fan translation of 蝙蝠侠的猫头鹰教父 by 巴巴罗萨光年. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!