Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [175]

Diana dreamed.

In her dream, she was seated on a black stone throne, surrounded by an abyss that churned like thick, bubbling oil.

From the depths of the abyss, countless figures coated in black sludge clawed their way upward, leaving dark handprints on the stone steps leading to her throne.

They climbed, reaching for her pale ankles, desperate to drag her down into the abyss with them.

Diana hugged herself tightly, curling into a defensive ball.

The figures drew closer.

Suddenly, with a deafening rustle, a swarm of bats emerged from behind the throne. Their black wings spread wide, forming a protective cloud between Diana and the encroaching figures, like a queen’s loyal royal guard.

Amid the chaos, Diana heard faint whispers.

“Oh, goddess—”

Turning her head, she saw a group of individuals kneeling reverently at the base of the throne.

They wore crowns of mud and badges dripping with black oil, their faces filled with devotion as they prayed.

“Great goddess, I offer you my wish!”

The leaders of the muddy figures spoke in unison. “I long for peace, but war is inevitable. Grant me the power to win this war and protect my people!”

Diana nodded solemnly. “Protecting the people and striving for peace are noble goals. Tell me, what kind of power do you seek?”

One by one, the voices responded.

“My nation’s strength lies in the sea. I wish to be blessed with dominion over the land as well!”

“My country is invincible on land. I desire the power to rule the seas!”

“My nation has only just risen. I need the strength to lead with an iron fist!”

“My nation…”

Their wishes entered Diana’s ears one after another. In her dream, none of it seemed unusual.

To maintain peace, these powers were necessary.

Diana declared, “Your wishes shall be granted!”

A roar of cheers erupted. Even the figures climbing toward the throne halted their ascent.

Moments later, Diana awoke.

She opened her eyes to the plain ceiling of the inn, the faint murmurs of voices still echoing in her ears. Yet, they no longer caused her pain.

“Bruce?”

Diana rose and began searching for the Dark Knight.

When she opened her door, she found Bruce asleep in the hallway, slumped against the wall, head tilted awkwardly.

Clearly, when he had said, “I’ll be right outside,” he’d meant it.

Diana’s lingering worries vanished. Bruce had kept his promise, proving his reliability once again.

“Bruce!”

She knelt and gently shook him awake.

Blinking groggily, Bruce was met with Diana’s bright, unguarded eyes.

“You’re up?” he mumbled. “Does your head still hurt?”

“It doesn’t.”

Diana shook her head. “Do you want to go back to your room and rest?”

“No need! A hot shower will fix me right up!”

Sleeping in the hallway had left Bruce chilled to the bone. Even in July, the nights in Britain could dip to uncomfortable lows.

After a quick shower, Bruce emerged to find Diana dressed and ready.

Her attire reflected her warrior’s sensibilities—long coat and trousers in black and gray.

Bruce approved. Dark colors were practical, less likely to show dirt, and fitting for the somber mood of wartime.

The two went downstairs for breakfast.

The tavern, now a bustling daytime eatery, served traditional English breakfast: coffee, toast, bacon, and boiled eggs.

Though Diana wasn’t picky about food, her appetite was enormous. By the time Bruce finished his first slice of bread, Diana was on her third.

“I had a strange dream last night,” Diana said suddenly. “There were people worshiping me, asking for wishes and talking about their dreams.”

Bruce paused, his knife hovering above the butter.

“Wishes?”

“Tell me everything,” Bruce said, his tone serious.

Since their encounter with Ares, Bruce had been keeping a close eye on Diana. He was acutely aware that the power Ares had bestowed upon her was genuine.

Kathoom had explained the origin of the yellow crystal.

“It was created by Dolos Mendacius, the god of trickery,” Kathoom had said. “Ares likely borrowed it from another god to surprise Diana.”

Now, Diana was effectively a living wish-granting machine—with a sinister twist.

When Diana described her dream, Bruce’s apprehension deepened.

“You granted their wishes,” he muttered. “Kathoom’s warnings are coming true.”

Wishes for power, granted in twisted ways.

The most likely outcome? The emergence of DC Universe heroes or villains, drawn into the looming war.

“Those sludge-covered figures in your dream,” Bruce speculated, “could represent the leaders of the warring nations—or their military forces.”

“Bruce, what’s wrong?” Diana asked, puzzled by his intensity.

“It’s just a dream. Why are you so concerned?”

“Diana,” Bruce said gravely, “what I’m about to tell you might scare you.”

“Scare me?” Diana’s expression shifted to one of defiance. “The Amazons have many weaknesses, but fear isn’t one of them.”

“Good.”

Bruce nodded and began to explain the yellow crystal’s abilities.

As he spoke, Diana’s hand froze mid-bite, a piece of toast hovering near her mouth.

“You’re saying… I can grant wishes?” she asked incredulously. “That’s absurd, Bruce! It’s just another one of Ares’ tricks!”

Determined to prove him wrong, Diana grabbed a passing waiter.

The boy, barely older than Bruce, froze in panic as Diana held his arm.

“Don’t be afraid,” Diana said gently. “Tell me—what’s your greatest wish?”

“M-my wish?”

“Yes, or a dream,” Diana said. “I’ll try to make it come true.”

The waiter looked at her as though she were mad, eager to escape.

“If I had to pick, I guess I’d want more tips—maybe ten pounds?” he stammered, naming the largest amount he could imagine receiving.

“Very well. Your wish is granted!” Diana said with a flourish, releasing his arm.

The waiter hurried off, clearly unsettled.

“You scared him,” Bruce commented dryly.

“He lacks the courage of a warrior,” Diana said dismissively. “Now we’ll see if your story holds any truth.”

Ten pounds—a significant sum equivalent to over 500 modern-day dollars.

Diana’s goal was simple: prove she couldn’t actually grant wishes.

But what followed would prove her wrong.

Minutes later, a well-dressed gentleman entered the tavern, accompanied by a strikingly beautiful woman.

Spotting the waiter, the gentleman’s eyes lit up.

“There you are, young man!”

The gentleman approached the waiter, who immediately started panicking, convinced he was in trouble.

“Do you remember me?” the gentleman asked. “Yesterday, you returned my lost wallet. Not a penny was missing!”

The waiter’s panic turned to relief.

“Honesty is a rare virtue,” the gentleman declared. “Returning that wallet was an act of great integrity, and it deserves recognition!”

With that, he pressed a ten-pound note into the waiter’s trembling hands.

The radiant image of Britannia on the bill gleamed in the light.

The woman beside the gentleman smiled coyly. “You truly are generous.”

“Always,” the gentleman replied proudly. “Allow me to tell you more about myself over tea at the Savoy Theatre!”

The pair left arm in arm.

The waiter, now holding the equivalent of two years’ wages, was ecstatic.

Diana, on the other hand, was stunned.

“Bruce…”

She trembled, overwhelmed by the realization that she might truly possess the power to reshape the world.

Bruce, however, remained calm.

“Wait,” he said. “Let’s see what happens next.”

The Dreamstone’s power always came with a cost.

Sure enough, the tavern owner appeared shortly afterward, grinning widely.

“Congratulations, Charlie,” the owner said. “That tip was quite the windfall!”

“Windfall?” Charlie stammered. “No, this was a reward for returning a wallet!”

“That doesn’t matter,” the owner said, his tone hardening. “You work for me, and all your earnings are part of your job. Hand it over, or you’re fired.”

Charlie pleaded, but the owner was unmoved.

Diana began to rise, ready to intervene, but Bruce stopped her.

“Let’s see how this plays out,” he said.

Charlie made his choice. Clutching the money, he resigned on the spot.

The owner fumed, but Bruce saw no further conflict brewing.

“It’s not exactly equivalent exchange,” Bruce thought. “But losing a job for two years’ wages? It could be worse.”

“Not necessarily,” Kathoom chimed in, suddenly appearing on Bruce’s shoulder.

“With war on the horizon, jobs will be harder to come by. And who’s to say Charlie can keep the money?”

Bruce sighed and stepped in. He paid the owner ten pounds to settle the matter, though Kathoom doubted it would resolve the underlying tension.

Diana, meanwhile, was grappling with her role in the unfolding events.

“Bruce, I’m so sorry…” she said quietly.

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce reassured her. “But we need to tread carefully. Your power could have far-reaching consequences.”

As if on cue, a newsboy’s cry rang out from the street.

“Extra! Extra! France forms an alliance with undersea civilization!”

Bruce froze, then hurried outside to grab a paper.

The headline read:

“Atlantis Emerges: Ruler of the Seven Seas Joins Forces with the Continental Powerhouse!”

Bruce’s jaw tightened as he scanned the article.

“Atlantis… the Queen of the Sea…”

Kathoom, perched on his shoulder, let out a gleeful hoot.

“Well, well! Looks like the real Aquaman is here to prove you wrong!”

“Shut up!” Bruce snapped, returning to the article.

“Atlantis… Sea Queen… France’s dominance at sea…”

Bruce’s mind flashed back to Diana’s dream.

“My nation is invincible on land. I wish to rule the seas!”

“So this is how it’s coming true,” he murmured.

But one question lingered:

“Who is the Sea Queen? Isn’t it supposed to be Aquaman?”

—

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!