Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [192]

Bruce’s behavior left Kathoom at a loss for words.

“Is he really born to be a playboy?”

Kathoom thought back to the movies and comics of his previous life, where Bruce Wayne seemed to cycle through girlfriends faster than he changed clothes.

None of those women ever truly touched his heart.

In fact, when it came to someone he genuinely liked, Bruce would deliberately keep his distance, pushing them further and further away.

No one should get close to the Bat—they’ll only end up cursed.

“But the Bruce of today hasn’t reached that level of awareness yet.”

Youthful and eager, Bruce gravitated toward beautiful things. Diana was stunning, and he couldn’t help but want to be near her—even going so far as to stage this damsel-saving-the-bear stunt.

That said, it wasn’t as though Bruce had sinister motives.

At that moment, Bruce lay on the ground, his head resting in Diana’s lap. Miss Wonder Woman’s face was filled with worry, and even though Bruce insisted he was fine, she kept double-checking to be sure.

Seeing the scene, Kathoom almost felt like stepping away to give them some privacy.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time.

Just as Diana was about to suggest checking Bruce over for the third time, the ruins in the distance stirred.

A tall figure emerged.

It was Clark.

After being hit by Bruce’s hammer grenade, he had fallen almost simultaneously with the young Bat.

But unlike Bruce, no one had caught him—he had simply crashed straight into the rubble.

Clark stood up, shaking his head. His face was now covered in cuts and bruises from Mjölnir’s triple-layered divine power.

The earlier battle had dispersed the storm clouds, and sunlight now poured onto his face, visibly healing his wounds.

“This is ridiculous!”

Bruce almost laughed in exasperation. Just standing in the sun made Clark stronger and healed his injuries. With abilities like that, why was he wasting time on Earth? He could be terraforming other planets in the solar system!

Diana’s hand moved toward Hephaestus’ sword at her side.

If Bruce couldn’t fight, she was ready to finish this battle herself.

“Enough…”

Clark began to speak but suddenly winced, his facial muscles twitching in a way that looked utterly wrong for someone with a body as invulnerable as his.

Bruce pushed himself up from Diana’s lap, holding out his hand.

Mjölnir flew back to him, landing solidly in his grasp. Its surface was still riddled with cracks, and a small fragment was missing from the center.

“Your name’s Bruce Wayne, isn’t it?”

Clark had remembered his name, acknowledging the young Bat as a worthy opponent.

During their fight, he had clearly held the upper hand throughout, dominating the battle.

Yet in the end, Bruce had landed a brutal, well-timed blow.

Now, a fragment of Mjölnir lodged within Clark’s body moved about relentlessly, causing a numbing sensation wherever it traveled. The pain was so distracting that Clark had nearly stumbled multiple times just walking out of the ruins.

“I recognize your strength,” Clark finally said, collapsing into a seated position across from Bruce.

“Let’s call a truce. Take out the fragment.”

“Do you think that’s likely?”

Bruce’s grin was sharp and mocking—Kathoom had taught him that expression, inspired by a meme.

Though it was a smile, it had a way of raising blood pressure in anyone who saw it.

“Coming up with a way to deal with you wasn’t easy, let alone pulling it off. Now that I’ve succeeded, why would I remove it?”

Mjölnir’s metal was forged from Uru, an exceptional material for storing magic, and something nonexistent in the DC universe.

The fragment inside Clark’s body carried the combined powers of Asgard, Olympus, and the Speed Force. It couldn’t kill Superman, but it could make his life a living hell with a single activation.

Hearing Bruce’s outright refusal, Clark’s expression shifted several times.

Bruce could swear there was a moment when he felt an unmistakable flash of killing intent.

But in the end, Clark simply sighed.

“Then name your terms,” he said. “What will it take for you to remove the fragment?”

Carrying a ticking time bomb inside his body was unsettling, even for Superman.

“My demand is simple,” Bruce replied. “Leave this world, and everything else will be negotiable.”

“That’s not possible.” Clark shook his head. “I have too many questions, and the answers can only be found here.”

Unlike other versions of Superman’s origin story, this “Red Son” had landed on a Soviet farm in 1938.

From a young age, Clark knew he was different. He felt a responsibility to make the world a better place but wasn’t sure how to do it.

It wasn’t until he came to this world and met his mentor that he began to unravel the mysteries that had plagued him.

“I need to stay here,” Clark said firmly. “Until I find the ultimate answer.”

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

Bruce sighed. “If you won’t compromise, neither will I. As long as you remain in this world, the fragment stays inside you.”

Bruce was confident Clark could never remove the fragment on his own.

Unless he could master the forging techniques of both Asgard and Olympus, wield the Speed Force at will, and—

Learn a little magic from Hogwarts.

Otherwise, the fragment would continue its random journey through Clark’s body, sometimes merging with his bloodstream, attaching to his bones, or even wandering into his brain.

“Does it really have to be this way?” Clark asked one last time. “I’d rather not take extreme measures.”

“You don’t scare me.” Bruce shook his head. “What I don’t understand is why you insist on staying here when you clearly don’t belong to this world.”

“Because I’ve seen hope.”

Clark stood, his towering frame blocking the sunlight from Bruce, casting a shadow over him.

“My whole life, I’ve struggled with my identity. Am I human or alien? I fell from the sky, but why? What is my mission here? If I want to help Earth, what’s the right way to do it?”

Clark spoke candidly about the questions that had haunted him since childhood.

In truth, he had never found a way to reconcile his identity. If he couldn’t be a man, he’d have to be a god.

If Bruce Wayne was Batman’s disguise, then Clark Kent was Superman’s true self.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve walked the line between life and death today,” Clark said softly. “I’ve had fleeting thoughts of killing you—ending your life to end this threat.”

“I know.”

Bruce nodded nonchalantly, unfazed by the implied threat.

“I wanted to see if you’d actually go through with it,” he said.

The Bat can’t be killed.

While defeating Clark was nearly impossible for Bruce, protecting himself was another story.

If Clark had struck, it would have confirmed his worst fears: that Superman was a false savior and humanity’s greatest threat.

But Clark had done nothing.

Even when he was close enough to choke the life out of Bruce with a single hand, he had chosen not to act.

He had merely tried to negotiate.

“That guy… either he’s an eternal softie, or he’s genuinely pure-hearted,” Bruce mused.

“If possible, I’d prefer to resolve our conflict peacefully,” Clark said finally. “You’ve given me two choices: leave this world or kill you. Neither appeals to me.

“I believe there’s a third option—one that will satisfy us both.

“I’ll think about it and hope you will too. If I figure it out first, I’ll find you. If you do, come find me in Zurich.”

With that, Clark took to the skies, leaving a trail of sonic booms in his wake.

Bruce watched him go, torn between exasperation and amusement.

“Such lofty words,” he muttered. “In the end, he’s just running away.”

Clark had placed his hopes on Bruce coming around. Until then, he would avoid any further confrontations.

“Is he always like this?” Bruce asked Kathoom. “If it were me, I’d have chosen the best solution without hesitation.”

“Shut up,” Kathoom scoffed. “You’d probably be just as indecisive if it were your choice to make.”

Bruce shrugged, brushing off the comment as he got to his feet. The strain of fighting Clark had left his muscles sore—it had been the most grueling battle of his life.

“A pity we couldn’t settle things,” he thought.

Kathoom sneered. “Call it what it is—you lost. There’s no way you could beat Clark.”

“That’s not losing.” Bruce’s voice was calm. “I didn’t defeat him, but I left him tied up in a noose. In a way, that’s a win.”

“Right, we’re always winning, aren’t we?” Kathoom’s tone dripped with sarcasm, but he let it drop when Bruce didn’t rise to the bait.

The battle had ended inconclusively.

From a pure power standpoint, Bruce was far from ready to defeat Superman.

But that wasn’t Batman’s style. He thrived on strategy, not brute force.

Compared to the comic version of Batman, who once spat kryptonite dust into Superman’s eyes, Bruce’s current tactics were practically noble.

All he’d done was throw a magical grenade.

—

Bruce searched the ruins several times, recalling that Black Adam’s body should have landed nearby.

But after multiple sweeps, he couldn’t find even a trace of it.

“It’s gone?!”

Not only Black Adam’s body but also the purple-skinned pig-headed creature had vanished.

Bruce turned to Kathoom with suspicion.

“What’s with that look?” Kathoom protested.

“Even if I like collecting things, I wouldn’t collect that! That’s just gross!”

“Then where did it go?” Bruce asked flatly. “Considering the intensity of my fight with Clark, I find it hard to believe any petty thief would dare steal from this scene.”

“You’re thinking too small,” Kathoom replied. “Let me ask you this, Bruce—if it were you, would you steal something under these circumstances?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bruce didn’t even flinch at Kathoom’s use of the word “steal.”

“It’s just salvaging from a battlefield,” Bruce said. “If the prize is worth it, I’d find a way.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

Kathoom smirked. “What makes you think another Bruce wouldn’t do the same?”

Another Bruce.

The realization hit him—Kathoom was right. He wasn’t the only Batman in this world.

Merciless!

As the Batman of the Dark Universe, he was still Batman at his core.

Unpredictable, elusive, always scheming.

But what could he want with the bodies? Absorbing Black Adam’s power?

Bruce shook his head.

“I don’t know,” Kathoom replied. “But his grudge is with you, not me. Whatever he’s planning, it won’t involve me.”

—

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!