Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [139]

Upon closer inspection, the clownish makeup on Homelander’s face revealed a subtle detail.

Beneath his eyes were two streaks of blue, painted like tears.

His mouth wore a grotesque smile, but his eyes seemed to weep.

Homelander stood before Little Robin—two versions of the same person, now face to face.

“So, you finally escaped,” Homelander said, his voice carrying a hint of regret. “I locked you away in that lab so you wouldn’t have to see this cruel reality.”

Even though he’d endured endless torment, stripped of his humanity, Little Robin still represented Homelander’s childhood—a sliver of innocence.

But Little Robin wasn’t moved by his words.

“You’re the villain here!” Little Robin shouted. “I’m going to defeat you and become a real hero!”

“A hero?”

Homelander chuckled darkly, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—pain, perhaps.

To think that his younger self now saw him as the enemy.

How pathetic.

But that moment of vulnerability vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual arrogance. He turned to Bruce.

“So, you’re Martha’s biological son? Good!”

With a maniacal laugh, Homelander spread his arms wide.

“I’ll defeat you in her name! I’ll show her who’s truly worthy to be her child!”

“Fine. I came here for a fight anyway,” Bruce said calmly, glancing at him. “But could you put your pants on first?”

Their sudden arrival on the Empire State Building’s rooftop had interrupted Homelander’s moonlit moment of self-expression.

Homelander’s expression didn’t change as he slipped his pants back on.

There was no further conversation. The battle began without warning.

Homelander roared with laughter as twin beams of laser vision erupted from his eyes, streaking toward Bruce.

But Bruce didn’t flinch.

A shadow moved in front of him—it was Little Robin.

From the boy’s eyes, identical beams of laser vision shot forth, meeting Homelander’s attack head-on.

The two beams collided, crackling in a furious stalemate.

“Go, Robin!” Bruce encouraged. “If you beat him, I’ll promote you!”

He deliberately kept the promise vague. Promote him to what? Robin? Or the true Homelander?

Little Robin gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of strength into holding off his counterpart’s attack.

Despite the struggle, he managed to free one hand, raising it behind his back to give Bruce a thumbs-up.

Trust me!

Bruce nodded, then turned away, walking to the far edge of the rooftop.

There, another figure was waiting.

Martha.

“Mom,” Bruce said softly. “On the way here, I figured it out.”

“Figured out what?” Martha asked, her smile warm, hopeful.

Had Bruce finally decided to come home with her? That would be the right choice, after all.

Why should there be conflict between mother and son?

But Bruce’s next words shattered her expectations.

“I figured out why you hate Dad so much—and why you hate Batman too.”

Martha’s smile vanished, replaced by an icy stare.

“That’s all you figured out?” she asked coldly.

“That’s enough,” Bruce said, gripping the Elder Wand that materialized in his hand. “Dad’s choice is also mine. Becoming Batman is the Wayne family’s inescapable destiny.”

No further explanation was needed.

Bruce had declared his resolve.

He would become Batman.

Suddenly, a swarm of bats appeared, materializing out of nowhere. They circled around Bruce, their movements frenzied and purposeful, merging to form a suit of armor around him.

“Mom, the memory of that night in the alley has never left me.”

“Your deaths took away that innocent child forever.”

“From that moment, I vowed to avenge Gotham’s sins.”

“Gotham can’t endure another orphan made by crime!”

“Mom, I am vengeance. I am the night.”

“I am Batman!”

In that instant, Bruce’s transformation was complete.

He stood before Martha in his Batman armor, but this was no ordinary suit.

This was forged from his unshakable determination—a declaration to prove himself as her son.

“I have not failed your expectations!”

Batman moved swiftly, throwing a punch without hesitation.

For a brief moment, Martha felt disoriented.

In her eyes, her beloved son’s form overlapped with the image of the man she hated most—Thomas Wayne.

“I won’t allow—”

Her words were cut short as Bruce’s fist connected.

The blow was accompanied by a swarm of bats that surged forward, blinding her.

As she instinctively shut her eyes, the chaos faded.

When she reopened them, she found herself in an unfamiliar cavern.

It was a vast underground hollow, silent and eerie.

At the center stood a statue of an owl, regal and imposing.

“Bruce?” Martha called out, her voice echoing through the cavern.

There was no reply.

Then, from the cavern’s entrance, she heard the sound of footsteps and saw the beam of a flashlight cutting through the darkness.

Martha turned, seeing a small Bruce walking toward her, flashlight in hand. He appeared calm but clutched something tightly to his chest—clearly a weapon.

“Bruce!”

She ran to embrace him, but her arms passed through empty air.

It was just an illusion.

All she could do was watch.

She saw her son cut his hand with a blade, smearing blood onto the owl statue before him.

A great owl emerged from the statue, declaring itself a demon and offering Bruce a deal.

Then, she heard its chilling words:

“I’ll cast the spell right now. Your parents will crawl out of their graves in the next second.”

Damn demon!

Martha gritted her teeth in rage. This cursed owl had lured her son down a path of no return.

She wanted nothing more than to rip it apart, but she could only stand helplessly, trapped in the vision.

The scenes shifted rapidly, showing Bruce’s journey.

She saw him make his pact with the owl in Wayne Manor, venturing into other dimensions together before returning to Gotham.

She saw him in those alternate worlds, even finding a family of sorts.

“Family?” Martha scoffed. “All fake!”

She especially despised the Grangers, and Hermione in particular.

Just looking at her irritates me.

The visions continued. Bruce attended Hogwarts, where, despite his aloof demeanor, he made friends. She saw him try on the Batsuit for the first time, only to fail miserably.

When Bruce curled up into a ball, crying and asking the owl if he was useless, Martha’s heart broke.

My precious boy—why does he have to suffer like this?

The scenes accelerated, blurring into a montage.

Bruce merged with the owl to become Batman, reconciled with Jason, and resolved the Hogwarts crisis.

She watched him travel to the Loganverse, gaining the help of an entire universe to save the world.

He returned to Hogwarts, where he tricked even Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the school’s founders, through sheer ingenuity.

Finally, the vision culminated in this moment—facing her in this universe.

“Mom, do you see it now?”

Bruce’s voice came from behind her.

She turned to find him standing there, the Elder Wand gripped tightly in his hand, its tip aimed at her. He had a spell prepared.

“This is the sum of my journey,” Bruce said with a faint smile. “I’m still your son, but I’m not the child you remember.”

His smile wavered slightly, but his resolve didn’t falter.

“Kids have to grow up, Mom. I can’t stay sheltered under your wing forever.

“Let me go. Let me grow.”

Martha remained silent, her expression unreadable.

Bruce had laid bare his history and his heart, hoping for a peaceful resolution.

Even as Batman, he didn’t want to make enemies of his family—though it was a fate he often seemed destined for.

“The world outside is dangerous…” Martha began, but she caught herself.

Then again, when has Gotham ever been safe?

Finally, she asked, “That owl—does it treat you well?”

“Very well,” Bruce replied. “He tells me jokes to cheer me up all the time.”

“Jokes, huh?” Martha said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Too bad jokes won’t save you. You might not understand this, Bruce, but if you keep going down this path, do you know what awaits you?”

Before Bruce could answer, Martha raised her hand, and a flash of silver light erupted from her palm.

The illusions vanished.

They were back on the rooftop of the Empire State Building.

Homelander and Little Robin were locked in a fierce battle—or rather, Little Robin was being beaten black and blue. Though battered, he wasn’t in any immediate danger.

Martha placed a firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“You think I’m trying to harm you,” she said softly. “But I’m trying to save you.”

She looked toward the battlefield, her voice growing colder.

“Barbatos’s plan is already in its final stages.”

The five metals had already been delivered—four were in place. Only the last, Promethium, remained.

With its arrival, Barbatos would have everything needed to drag Bruce back to the DC Universe and force him to become Batman once more.

“If you come with me, at least you’ll be safe,” Martha said.

She held out a piece of gelatinous silver metal. No one could say how much Nth metal she’d brought this time.

Since making her deal with Barbatos, Martha had searched for a way to save Bruce from his fate.

If Barbatos wanted Batman, she reasoned, then anyone else could take up the mantle.

If Zur-En-Arrh took over Bruce’s body, it could still serve as the doorway Barbatos needed.

All she had to do was take Bruce’s personality away.

The gelatinous metal glistened as she slapped it onto Batman’s forehead.

The substance began to spread across his body, forming a metallic shell to immobilize him.

“Sigh…”

Batman let out a weary sigh.

So it’s come to this.

But he didn’t resist.

Instead, his figure flickered, splitting into two forms.

One remained unscathed; the other was covered in metal.

Martha’s eyes widened. With the Nth metal in her hand, illusions shouldn’t be able to fool her.

Had Batman truly split into two?

The answer came quickly.

The metal-covered figure suddenly dropped to the ground, writhing and flailing dramatically.

“Aaaah! I’m dying!” it wailed, its voice high-pitched and ridiculous.

Then the figure began to shrink and transform, morphing into a small, round owl.

Kathoom II.

Before entering the Empire State Building, Kathoom II had merged with Bruce.

At that moment, Bruce had understood why Kathoom II had insisted on wearing a Batman suit—it was to create this perfect deception.

“Even an owl can be Batman,” Bruce said with a smirk.

—

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!