SUP Chapter 24: Nightmare World! Homelander!

Death Knight Kin?

Staring at the status name on his panel, Ian’s first thought was of the Death Knight from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but he couldn’t quite pin down what kind of role it was.

He vaguely recalled Death Angels.

As for Death Knights… it had been over a decade since his transmigration, and even though Ian often reinforced his memories, the minor details were hard to retain.

Not to mention he didn’t know every facet of the world he now lived in. He was a man who scored over 700 on his college entrance exam, his nose buried mostly in textbooks.

Movies, comics? Mere leisure distractions. If he’d known he’d end up in the DC Universe, Ian would’ve dropped out to become a true “comics scholar.”

“Regardless, this pendant Madison gave me is no simple thing.” Ian realized the entity branding his hand must be a big shot.

Just how big or strong, he didn’t know. But the fact that his system could detect such a mysterious identity made Ian value it even more.

“Maybe I really can shed my Ordinary NPC status.” Ian glanced at the brand on his hand, its smooth lines brimming with a mysterious charm.

Its only flaw was that it didn’t come with any negative effects.

That disappointed him, left him regretful.

Whoever this big shot behind the status was, Ian felt they didn’t quite get his needs, clearly just offering half-hearted attention.

“Shrimp-head jerk!”

Ian only dared mutter this in his mind, already bold enough. He rubbed the brand a few more times, then pulled out his school homework.

Yes, even American public schools assigned homework, though it was light, often finished quickly.

Ten minutes if you were fast, half an hour if slow. For Ian, it took two hours, not because he struggled, but because he completed twenty sets of homework.

As a true academic ace.

Ian long provided custom solutions for classmates, with keen insight into their skill levels, and no teacher ever caught on.

“Only public schools have so many kids who hate studying.” Ian sighed. With their parents’ means, he and his brothers could’ve attended private schools, but their father, a blend of divinity and humanity, was Superman, the DC Universe’s near-saint.

Blending with the masses was key.

That was Superman’s creed, his parenting style. Ian also figured choosing public schools was likely to shield them from the warped values of high society.

Smoking, drinking?

Those bad habits were child’s play in American private schools, where bad kids outdid the worst public school bullies by miles.

“Done! Clocking out!”

Ian finished his little enterprise.

He then dove into writing The Overbearing Superman Loves Me. Stuck on a plot point, he decided to add a new twist: Superman, hit by a spaceship, travels hundreds of light-years, loses his memory, and forgets the heroine.

In the story, Superman even forgets he’s Superman, taken in by a scheming female villain, forcing the forty-year-old heroine to return to her old trade, working as a janitor in the villain’s company.

“The heroine must uncover the company’s dark secret: a plot to poison and control women worldwide with tampons, but the menopausal heroine is unaffected!”

“And the heroine has nine kids, sent off one by one like the Calabash Brothers. I’m a genius at stitching plots!” Ian was thrilled with his story design.

He poured his heart into the manuscript. Honestly, whether it got published or made money didn’t matter anymore; writing it felt exhilarating.

Of course, making money would be a double win.

“What a thrilling storm of inspiration!” Ian stopped writing when it felt tedious, decided to submit the manuscript to a publisher he’d already scouted.

Fully owned by Wayne Enterprises.

Surely, they had editors with an eye for talent.

Ian trusted Batman’s business acumen.

“Mail it tomorrow.”

Excited, Ian polished his first volume, refining details, then left to wash up. Back at his desk, the clock pointed to a special moment.

[11:59]

…

Ian rushed to his bed.

[12:00]

…

Finally, at the last second, Ian tucked himself in, lying flat, hands folded over his stomach, like a corpse ready for burial.

As the boundary between days arrived, he entered that bizarre, surreal world as expected. Frigid winds brushed his cheeks without harm. Ian slowly opened his eyes to the familiar lead-gray sky pressing down, heavy snow falling silently.

“My spawn point’s really far this time.” Ian exhaled, surveyed his surroundings, spotted a bridge landmark, and pinpointed his location.

“Homelander! Homelander!”

Back in this world.

Ian’s mind was fixed on the goal tying him closer to “family.” Wiping snow away, checking a street sign, he sprinted north like a madman.

His strength and constitution, far beyond normal, let him run like a nimble cheetah, a human vehicle speeding through silent streets.

Snow kept falling.

The city was vast.

Even at Ian’s speed, he was panting, running for hours before reaching the familiar spot, partly due to getting briefly lost.

Ian couldn’t fully blame his poor sense of direction; after learning this place tied to the Marvel Universe, he’d been scouring for other superhero corpses along the way.

Nothing.

Thankfully, he finally found the street with Hulk and Homelander’s corpses. The Hulk was already snow-buried, though the accumulation wasn’t too heavy.

Standing on the street, Ian hesitated briefly.

He glanced at his much-improved [Strength] and [Constitution], deciding to climb with his bare hands instead of seeking tools.

Humans invented tools out of diligence.

But he, was a bit lazy.

“Here I come, Homie!” Ian stepped back, then launched into a sprint, rocketing up the Hulk’s arm like a firecracker.

Fact proved, boys who rely on themselves aren’t unlucky.

Ian succeeded, he won the bet. Whether Tang Niu was the God of Cooking, he didn’t know, but he was definitely a gambling god. Clutching the Hulk’s thumb, Ian reached for Homelander’s head.

The fully solidified blood, touched his youthful hand.

[NEXT CHAPTER]