Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [190]

“That looks a little strange.”

Kathoom stroked his feathery chin, offering an unprompted critique. “The color scheme doesn’t quite… harmonize.”

“That’s because I’m still missing one last piece of power.”

Bruce turned to the owl, his intent unmistakable, even if he said nothing.

“…You’re shameless.”

Kathoom squawked indignantly. Bruce already had Wonder Woman’s power—now he wanted his as well? This was pure greed.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have met Diana in the first place.”

Bruce reasoned, his tone as earnest as ever. “And my synchronization with Diana isn’t even perfect yet. Right now, I’d say it’s about sixty percent at best.”

More than friends, less than lovers.

That was the situation.

“Which is why I need you to help me make up the difference,” Bruce said sincerely.

But—

“You can go to hell!” Kathoom snapped. “Do you have any idea how unreasonable this request is?”

“Don’t you want Diana to become your daughter-in-law?” Bruce countered smoothly.

“You really are thinking that far ahead, aren’t you?”

The owl stared at him, amazed. “I distinctly recall someone once telling me he only cared about saving Gotham. Nothing else interested him.”

Gotham—Bruce’s one true love.

“That was then, this is now.”

Bruce didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “Come on, Godfather. I’m begging you here!”

Kathoom shuddered.

He still remembered the first time Bruce had called him “Godfather.” The boy’s tone had been so sincere, so full of genuine respect.

Now it was just a cheap trick.

Where did he even learn this nonsense?

“…This is the last time.”

Ultimately, Kathoom relented. The enemy was Superman—a Superman whose will was unshakable, whose heart knew no doubt. Alone, Bruce wouldn’t stand a chance.

Kathoom’s wings spread wide, merging once more with Bruce.

The Champion of the Gods form began to stabilize, evolving further into its perfected state.

The Hellbat armor shifted again, its rough edges softening. No longer the feral and vengeful demon king, Bruce now radiated the majestic presence of a divine protector—one who inspired hope.

Bruce raised his head, golden lightning crackling behind him as he set his sights on Superman high above the clouds.

“Round two begins now.”

The red lightning surrounding Bruce’s form turned gold, arcs of divine energy blazing around him.

Enveloped in the Speed Force once more, Bruce bit down on the emergency energy capsule stored in his mouth—a simple but effective source of calories.

It wasn’t much different from a military ration bar.

Above, the storm clouds had finally cleared, and sunlight broke through, pouring onto Superman’s body.

The warmth rejuvenated him, sweeping away whatever lingering fatigue he might have felt from the battle so far.

Clark lowered his head, ready to face Bruce.

But something strange caught his attention.

“Where’s Black Adam?”

Clark distinctly remembered that when their fight ended, Black Adam hadn’t died.

The man had simply lost his ability to fight and plummeted to the ground.

Yet now, Black Adam’s body was nowhere to be found. Clark couldn’t even hear his heartbeat.

Not only that, but Pig-Faced Professor—who had transformed into that monstrous abomination—was also gone.

“Did they escape together?”

Clark dismissed the thought with a shrug. It didn’t matter.

They wouldn’t get far. Once he dealt with Bruce, he could go and retrieve them.

One problem at a time.

For now, his sole focus was on the boy called Bruce Wayne.

He couldn’t afford any distractions.

And then Bruce, now in his fully realized Champion form, launched himself forward, a streak of golden lightning racing toward Clark.

Let’s finish this.

Clark dropped his head, preparing for the next round of their battle.

—

Russia, the Winter Palace—secret underground laboratory.

Pig-Faced Professor lay sprawled on the floor, trembling uncontrollably, his limbs splayed out. This was the price of using the purple crystal.

It had drained his life force and ravaged his body, leaving him frail and barely functional.

Beside him lay another figure—Black Adam.

The once-mighty warrior was unconscious, his right arm ending in a gruesome, cauterized stump. The bleeding had stopped, but the sight remained horrifying.

Suddenly, the laboratory door creaked open.

A tall figure strode inside.

He wore a heavy suit of armor styled like that of a medieval knight. The armor gleamed with an almost unnatural blue sheen, its surface hard and unyielding.

The chest plate bore a white bat insignia—similar to Batman’s emblem, but not quite the same.

The helmet resembled a skull, with bat-like wings adorning its sides.

The sheer number of bat motifs made Pig-Faced Professor shudder in fear.

For some reason, he couldn’t help but think of Batman.

“Your consciousness seems to be recovering quickly.”

The figure’s voice was low and raspy, carrying an ageless weariness.

Pig-Faced Professor could only tremble in reply.

“I’ve injected you with a nutrient solution of my own design.”

The armored man sat on a low stool, his massive frame resembling a mountain. “You’ll regain full control in a minute or two.”

A nutrient solution?

Pig-Faced Professor sneered inwardly. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the purple crystal was—he’d designed it himself.

Its damage was irreversible. No “nutrient solution” could fix it.

But reality quickly proved him wrong.

“Ah—ugh—”

Within minutes, Pig-Faced Professor’s spasms began to subside. He managed to produce a few garbled sounds.

A little while later, the shaking stopped entirely.

With some effort, Pig-Faced Professor pushed himself upright, astonished to find his body responding.

“It seems you’re ready.”

The armored man removed his helmet, revealing his face.

Pig-Faced Professor gasped, his eyes widening in shock.

“Bruce Wayne?!”

His voice cracked as he stumbled back, then lowered to a stunned mutter. “I knew it! You rich kids are all the same—crooked to the core. What happened? Did Batman kick you out of Gotham too?”

“Something like that.”

The man replied cryptically. “I’ll never see my Gotham again.”

“What do you mean your Gotham?”

Seeing an old acquaintance, Pig-Faced Professor’s agitation only grew. “It’s everyone’s Gotham!”

“Call it what you like. I need you to do something for me.”

The armored man’s voice turned serious.

He gestured to Black Adam’s unconscious body.

“I need you to perform some experiments for me. Create two bodies—one for a boy and one for an owl.”

—

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!