SUP Chapter 105: The Great Source! Ian's Magic! (Part Two)

Breakfast was oatmeal with bacon sandwiches.

Whether it tasted good or not, Ian couldn't eat any.

"I can still evolve, but I need to be hungry for a while..." Ian had told so many truths this early morning, which was very rare. He reluctantly refused the sandwich his mom handed him.

"Why isn't Lady Death coming to find me?"

Ian looked around, not finding a target to feed. He was somewhat helpless, looking toward the second floor, "Jordan isn't eating breakfast because he's testing his room's soundproofing system."

"What about Jonathan?" Ian didn't see his big brother's figure and was somewhat confused, since according to convention, big brother Jonathan should have gotten up by now to start mixing his protein powder.

"He went out at six in the morning, said he was going to visit the church." Clark knew his son's whereabouts like the back of his hand. After a moment of silence, he added another sentence.

"He's indeed at the church right now."

This was obviously confirmation using his abilities. Ian really pitied his second brother, though he was also lucky, at least he still didn't know how perverted their old father's hearing was.

"Both of us need to work overtime today. You'd better not run out again and bring back strange things." Clark made serious instructions.

"Mm."

Ian nodded. He didn't refute his father's idea.

"Hey! How can you say Ian's car is a strange thing? She's so cool!" Lois directly refuted while pushing Clark's shoulder.

Clark went along with it, lying on the table to provide emotional value for Lois.

"Beep beep~"

The Hellcat's horn sounded outside.

"It's going to rain tonight, so you'd better take time to come back and help Ian's car build a room in the yard. Don't let that merciless rain drench my son's beloved little car."

Lois, having drunk alcohol, had quite a strong personality.

"Mm."

Clark nodded while lying on the table.

"Thank you, Dad."

Ian quickly expressed his thanks.

"No problem, just a car shed. I can put it up easily."

Clark tried to change the concept.

"It's a room! She's also a member of our family now, isn't she? She's also a girl. She told me personally last night... using her car radio."

Lois corrected Clark's statement.

"I knew my car was a female cat! I sensed it on the first day!" Ian was very happy. He once again proved he indeed possessed discernment abilities beyond ordinary people.

"Okay, a room. I understand."

Clark nodded helplessly.

"So, can I take you to work now? We're about to be late." He looked at the time, then picked up Lois, who was still holding a glass of red wine, and disappeared from the room.

Ian, who already considered himself incredibly powerful, didn't even notice the door opening and closing.

"..."

After a moment of silence.

"They must have gone through the window."

Ian could only comfort himself this way. Otherwise, what else could he do? He'd thought he was starting to close the gap with his old father, but somehow he now had the illusion that the gap was getting bigger.

"Clang~"

God definitely had a grudge against Ian.

Otherwise, why would Ian just mention windows and immediately hear something hitting the window? Any coincidence in the world could definitely be blamed on God.

"I wonder what Jonathan is doing at church. Dating a Catholic girl?" Ian secretly speculated while walking toward the source of the noise.

He saw the window was tightly closed, with spider web-like cracks in the window glass. In the center of the cracks, a black fly was stuck there, its six legs constantly twitching.

"This head is almost as big as my little finger. What does it eat to grow so fat?" Carefully pinching the fly's back, he extracted it from the glass crack.

"A fly clan monk exhausted all his strength in one strike to fight the upper realm, but unfortunately fell victim to an immortal's poisonous hand." Ian stared at the fly in his hand. The fly was still alive with no intention of dying.

This guy even struggled twice in his fingertips, its wings buzzing. It had the feeling of a genius fly clan.

"Huh, quite energetic?" Ian raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. He carefully examined the black fly in his hand, feeling it was different from ordinary flies. This fly's shell had a weird metallic luster in the sunlight, and its compound eyes were more blood-red than usual flies.

"This is when we need to call in a professional." Ian still remembered that the appearance of demons could always be connected with flies, so he believed there must be a very special bond between the two.

Thump thump thump up the stairs.

Ian pulled the demon skull out of the cabinet.

"Taste this for me. Is there a demon attached to it?" Ian made a reasonable guess, but things seemed different from what he imagined.

Before the demon skull could react, Ian stuffed a live fly into its mouth. It instinctively chewed twice, then suddenly contracted its cloudy pupils.

"Mmm——!"

It made a sound between pain and pleasure, then swallowed. After a long while, it spoke with shock in its voice, "Really energetic. This is definitely not an ordinary fly."

The demon bull head was confidently spouting nonsense again.

"No demonic scent?"

Ian pressed for an answer.

"No." The demon skull honestly gave its answer. It savored the taste, its expression becoming increasingly amazed. It even felt its strength had slightly improved.

That was the feeling of digesting some kind of soul.

"It must be a Kryptonian fly."

The demon's tone was extremely certain.

"I have a relative who ate a Kryptonian soul. My relative described exactly this taste." It did have some authority, but didn't seem too authoritative.

Similar to the "I heard from a friend" type.

"You mean this fly grew up eating my dad's super Oreos and drinking my dad's super iced tea, becoming a super fly bit by bit?"

Ian furrowed his brow with an expression of disbelief.

The air suddenly went quiet.

"..."

The demon bull head was very silent.

A few seconds later, it carefully spoke.

"Great Ian God, I think things shouldn't be like that. A reasonable guess would be that it's a mutated fly that escaped from some laboratory."

"Perhaps your scientists, who are more insane than demons, used Kryptonian blood to cultivate this kind of fly, causing it to develop a soul it shouldn't possess."

The demon skull made a cautious analysis.

"Blood is also bodily fluid."

Ian stroked his chin and thought for a while, feeling this guy's meaning was about the same as what he'd expressed. For this kind of plagiarism of creative ideas, he directly gave it a slam dunk to the forehead.

The demon skull dared to be angry but not speak.

It had no idea what it had said wrong.

Indeed, being with a ruler was like being with a tiger.

The more it made the demon feel uneasy, the more it had that kingly unpredictability of a true hell sovereign. Thinking this way, the demon skull saw Ian run out of the room again and start searching throughout the house.

"Are there other flies?"

Ian wanted to find a second mutated fly.

Especially the bathroom. Ian turned it upside down.

However, after busying himself for half a day and even searching outside the house, he couldn't find a second fly inside the home.

He'd also searched outside, not only finding no mutated flies but not even discovering any suspicious vehicles.

"Can you spit it out? I think there must be evil people behind it." Ian returned to his room somewhat helplessly, picked up the demon skull, and softened his tone.

However, this made the demon skull tremble even more.

"Great Ian God..."

It was on the verge of tears.

"Do you think I'm that capable?"

The demon skull's voice was filled with timid and slight fear.

It was afraid this was Ian's new way of tormenting it, but it obviously underestimated Ian's personal qualities. Ian wasn't being unreasonable, just sighed and scratched his head.

"Still too inexperienced. When encountering this kind of weird thing, I should have first let my Uncle Batman taste it." Ian was truly reflecting on his handling method.

The demon bull head didn't dare respond, just wanted to change the subject.

"Can you make your second brother stop?" It sighed heavily. Obviously, the soundproofing cotton set Jordan had bought from who knows where hadn't even defended against its ears.

"Just awakened, unlocked new gameplay. It's all like this." Ian was quite understanding of his second brother, because he knew his second brother truly had depression accompanied by social anxiety disorder.

Jordan had even gone to see a psychologist earlier than he had. Jordan had always pretended he'd never seen a psychologist. There was a reason he knew Ian's medication could be sold at school.

"Sigh."

The demon skull sighed again.

"But it's been three hours."

It mainly felt trembling listening to this sound, since Ian would at most hit and torment it, but the little devil in the other room had much more terrifying intentions toward it.

"Have you seen the comic I drew last night? Captain America can fight Iron Man for a whole day. After my second brother awakens, of course he can also fight himself for a whole day."

"Give him time to adapt."

Ian didn't continue paying attention to the bull head's hesitation. He just silently put on headphones and took out the other demon from the cabinet that had changed back into "Ian's Genesis God Book."

"Done reflecting? Time to evolve after reflecting." Ian still needed to continue starving anyway. Since he was just sitting around, he naturally had to conduct reasonable research on the resources in his hands.

With a slight application of thinking ability, Ian immediately understood that language wasn't the product carrying thought, brain matter was. So he lowered his head and pressed his forehead firmly against "Ian's Genesis God Book."

Definitely not a lucky accident. Pure wisdom was at work.

Golden radiance seeped out from between the book pages like countless tiny light snakes swimming across the paper surface. Ian's consciousness began to merge with this collection from the Demon King.

...

At the same time, in the Marvel universe at Kamar-Taj.

Doctor Strange sat cross-legged at a low table in the library, with magic tomes spread before him emanating the faint scent of parchment. He was meditating with closed eyes when suddenly, an unusual magical fluctuation made him snap his eyes open.

"What is this...?"

His gaze locked onto "Ian's Magic Book" at the corner of the table. It was glowing, golden light pulsing like breathing, pages turning without wind, rustling as if calling to him.

"Magic is being born..."

Doctor Strange frowned, cautiously reaching for the book. The moment his fingertips touched it, the light on the pages suddenly blazed, and an unfamiliar magical power instantly surged into his body through his fingertips!

"This is bad!"

He instinctively tried to pull his hand away, but found he couldn't move. Some invisible contract was rapidly forming, magical power flowing through his body, ultimately carving a brand deep in his soul.

"This... is this what that guy meant by establishing a connection with a dimensional demon god?!"

Doctor Strange's face changed drastically. He tried to sever the magical connection, but the contract was already complete, like an invisible net firmly binding his soul.

"Damn it!"

Doctor Strange was shocked and horrified. He'd never encountered such a situation. As the Sorcerer Supreme, magic had always been under his control, not controlling him.

The Ancient One was lying again!

"I need to save myself. No, there's no way to save myself now. But perhaps this isn't a bad thing. After all, that guy said before that this was how mages used to practice magic."

Doctor Strange forced himself to calm down and carefully sense the contract's content. It was better not to sense it. Once he did, the thirty-something man just wanted to cry frantically.

He was thunderstruck into rigidity.

"What do you mean if I try to violate the contract, I have to forcibly surrender half my magic power?! And the magic power I accumulate in daily practice needs to pay thirty percent tribute? What kind of ghost contract says this is called magic power income tax?!" Doctor Strange's pupils contracted violently, his fingers trembling slightly. The contemporary Sorcerer Supreme experienced what it meant to be thoroughly vicious for the first time.

The risks of dealing with dimensional demon gods were known to the world for the first time.

"Such a huge cost?!" Doctor Strange completely panicked, frantically flipping through pages, "What about the benefits? Didn't they say I could borrow power and receive magical gifts?!"

The pages rustled as they turned. On the blank pages, golden text slowly appeared.

Indeed, there was a display of unique magical power from the dimensional demon god.

"This..."

Doctor Strange stared fixedly at the page.

His brain crashed.

"Evil demon! It really is an evil demon!" Doctor Strange directly cried, truly cried, wailing loudly. His face was as white as an inexperienced sheet of paper.

There was magic, but did he dare learn it?

"No way! Is this magic meant for humans to learn?"

Doctor Strange's mentality completely exploded. He felt he'd been deeply schemed against. Everything was a trap. How could such magic exist in this world?

Look! Look at what was recorded in this magic book! The first magic that dimensional demon god recorded in the book was actually trying to teach people how to turn the appendix in their body into a storage bag!

Dimensional demon god, was his mind really normal?

Or did non-human creatures all think using appendixes as storage bags was useful and fashionable?

...

New York's night wind carried a slightly cool dampness, shuttling between high-rises with low moans. Gwen Stacy sat on her family apartment's windowsill, legs dangling in the air. Hundreds of meters below her feet was the brilliantly lit city spread out beneath her like a fallen galaxy.

She didn't look down, just sat quietly, fingers lightly tapping the window frame in a scattered rhythm, like some unconscious habit.

The night wind brushed through the girl's blonde hair, the strands shimmering silver-white in the moonlight.

"Ian... Tony... Spider-Man..." She whispered these names softly, her voice so light it was almost scattered by the wind, her mind still a chaotic mess of fragmented memories.

"Is this how it is."

In her soft murmur, she reached behind her back.

"Thwip!"

A thin strand of webbing shot from her wrist, precisely sticking to the corner closet door. However, when the closet door opened, it didn't contain what should have been there according to her fragmented memories.

"What's wrong with me."

Gwen covered her wrist, somewhat confused.

"Why am I so familiar with the name Spider-Man, and that boy." She stood up on the balcony, completely unafraid of the high altitude beneath her feet.

"Whew..."

Gwen took a deep breath, lightly pushed off with her toes, performing an action she'd done many times in this city, relying on abilities of unknown origin to wander aimlessly.

Like most people with special abilities, she had adapted to high altitudes early on. This morning, when Ian had taken her "flying," this girl's fearless reaction to heights was naturally because she was already accustomed to high places.

Her body instantly left the windowsill, gravity pulling her toward the ground. Wind howled in her ears, but her eyes remained unusually calm. As she fell to mid-air, Gwen's wrist suddenly flicked, webbing shooting out to stick to a distant building's exterior wall. Her body suddenly stopped, then swung out using the momentum.

"Perhaps I really should do something for this city."

Gwen was like a streak of black and white lightning cutting through New York's night sky.

...

In an old apartment building in Queens.

Peter Parker slammed the door shut heavily, blocking out the outside noise. His breathing was labored, his fingers unconsciously clenched, nails digging deep into his palms.

"Damn it! Someone actually dared mock me!"

His voice was low and hoarse, like some beast's growl. Without turning on the lights, Peter Parker went straight to the bathroom and slammed his fist into the mirror above the sink.

"Crack——!"

The glass instantly shattered, spider web-like cracks spreading from the impact point. Blood dripped from his knuckles, but he felt no pain.

The boy slowly raised his head, staring at his shattered reflection in the mirror.

He saw crimson eyes flickering in the darkness, his mouth corners twisting as if something sharp was trying to pierce through his skin and emerge from between his lips. Sharp pain shot through his mouth, the piercing sensation making the dancing boy bend over, his hands gripping the sink edge tightly.

"Agh——!"

Very painful.

"What is... this?" Peter's voice trembled as he reached up to touch his face, his fingertips clearly feeling some abnormal writhing beneath his skin.

Those were fangs.

...

Evil might not have existed when the world was first born, but it would always be conceived.

Of course, justice was the same.

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