Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

Zurich, Switzerland, was a cold, serene city by the water.

But it was summer now, and the sunshine was pleasant. From the Zähringerhof Hotel, one could glimpse the towering Alps to the north.

Snow capped the peaks year-round, like a white giant watching over the city.

Switzerland's declaration of neutrality during the war had made it a refuge for peace advocates and political exiles alike.

Every day, political rallies were held, and passionate speeches rang out.

Vladimir was one of the speakers.

He was short but sturdy, his busy schedule leaving him little time to care about appearances.

Once, he had a full head of red hair, but he had begun balding early in life, leaving his scalp shiny and bare.

At the rally, the crowd was silent except for Vladimir's booming voice, which carried effortlessly to every corner of the venue.

Among the attentive listeners was a tall man in a gray-brown trench coat, wearing black-rimmed glasses.

Notebook in hand, he jotted down notes at an astonishing speed, faster than the finest typewriters of the day.

Each time he finished writing, he paused to reflect, only for new questions to arise in his mind as the speech continued.

This process repeated until the speech finally concluded.

When Vladimir finished with a resounding call to action, thunderous applause filled the venue.

The tall man clapped louder than anyone else, raising his hands above his head in enthusiastic approval.

As the crowd dispersed, reluctant to leave, the man approached Vladimir.

They had come to the rally together.

"Comrade Karl—"

"Call me Clark, sir," the man corrected humbly. "That's my name now and always will be."

"Very well, Clark."

Vladimir regarded the tall, dark-haired man. This was the being summoned into the world by his wish.

After spending a few days together, Vladimir had formed a clear impression of Clark's character.

Justice. Selflessness. Humility. Passion.

He was, without a doubt, the greatest gift the goddess could have bestowed.

"I noticed you were taking notes during the speech," Vladimir remarked. "If you have thoughts, we can discuss them."

"I do have one question," Clark admitted, flipping open his notebook with a serious expression.

"Does revolution have to involve bloodshed? Is there no better way, one that could satisfy everyone?"

"No."

Vladimir shook his head firmly.

"Given the current state of human society, it's impossible."

Clark's eyes dimmed, disappointment clear in his expression.

In his mind, he had long envisioned a world where everyone could live happily.

But it was a fantasy. A dream that could not yet be realized.

"Don't dwell on it, Clark," Vladimir said, raising a hand to pat his shoulder.

"For now, your most important task is to learn, think, and observe this world. Nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Clark looked puzzled.

"But you know I can do so much more. A war is breaking out…"

"Clark, I have no doubt about your abilities," Vladimir said, shaking his head.

"When I saw you lift a car effortlessly and carry it into the sky, I knew how powerful you were."

"But just because you have such strength doesn't mean you should join this war."

"This war is devoid of justice. If you joined, you wouldn't even know who you were fighting for."

"And more importantly, Clark, you have a far greater mission!"

Clark, though outwardly human, possessed the abilities of a god.

An indestructible body, superhuman strength, heat vision, flight…

These powers were beyond anything humanity could hope to achieve.

He was Superman.

And Vladimir, understanding this, saw the greater significance behind Clark's existence.

"You weren't born for war, Clark," Vladimir said firmly.

"You represent a productivity beyond this era. I won't let you become a soldier or a politician.

"This world's productivity is still too low. Humanity is trapped within this small glass bottle called Earth."

"But I believe you're the key to shattering that bottle and leading humanity forward."

"Travel the world, Clark. See the people you will one day protect. Don't stay tethered to me."

Vladimir's vision transcended his time. He understood the profound changes Superman could bring to this world.

To reduce such a being to a weapon or a political tool would be the greatest injustice.

"I…"

Clark hesitated, but Vladimir waved him off, already heading back to their lodgings.

"The fruits of revolution aren't ripe yet. I suspect it'll take at least a few more years," Vladimir said over his shoulder.

"In the meantime, explore the world. Don't worry about the revolution. Even if it's just us, we'll succeed in building a strong nation!"

As Vladimir disappeared into the distance, Clark stood in the street, notebook in hand.

He felt momentarily lost.

The man who had summoned him had just given him freedom—freedom to explore and learn.

And Vladimir had shown absolute confidence that when the time came, Clark would return.

"I'll follow your advice."

Clark closed his notebook and tucked it into his chest pocket.

"Let's see this world with my own eyes."

The question now was where to begin.

Clark pulled out a newspaper, its front page covering the Eastern Front.

The article described strange new soldiers appearing on the Austro-Hungarian and Russian battlefields.

These creatures, far beyond human understanding, were hybrids of animals and humans.

Endowed with animalistic strength and human intelligence, their bodies were so durable that even bullets couldn't harm them.

The article included illustrations of the grotesque soldiers.

Bears' strength. Leopards' speed. Eagles' eyes.

Clark thought for a moment.

I'll start there. Just to observe.

…

The Western Front, Belgium.

The battle at the Fortress of Liège had paused momentarily. The clash of superhuman powers had subsided, leaving the stage for human combatants to resume their war.

"When Black Adam makes his next move, it won't be this simple."

Bruce spoke with certainty.

"He's not going to face a two-on-one again. Either he'll recruit allies, or he'll play us against each other."

If Black Adam sought an ally, his best option was Solomon Grundy, the representative of the Rot who had descended in Italy.

The Rot, the Green, the Red, and the Black were cosmic elemental forces that held sway in the universe. These primal powers had earthly avatars, their strength exceeding mortal comprehension.

Bruce knew this much: none of the summoned Descendants were easy opponents.

"We need to be prepared," Bruce said. "We can't afford to face any of them without a solid plan—even Pig-Face Professor."

Diana, by now, had learned not to immediately argue with Bruce's ideas. Instead, she listened before raising her objections.

"We don't have time for preparations," she said. "Every second we delay, more lives are lost!"

"Don't take the weight of the world onto your shoulders."

Bruce shook his head.

"Maybe spend some time talking to Kathoom. Once you get to know his methods and moral boundaries, you'll start seeing yourself as a saint. It'll cure that mental burden of yours."

Diana cast a curious glance at Kathoom.

The owl was currently tossing rocks into the air for Halley, the small Valtrax, to catch. Each time Kathoom launched a rock, Halley transformed into a streak of red, snatching the stone in her jaws before gulping it down with loud crunches.

"We should deal with the Sea Queen first," Bruce suggested.

"At least she's still human in a broad sense. Her greatest threat comes from her weapon—the trident."

The Trident of Poseidon, a divine artifact, represented sovereignty over the seas.

Forged by gods, the trident possessed unmatched durability, could pierce divine flesh, and contained unfathomable magical power.

It could generate energy shields and force fields, manipulate the weather, and control tides, whirlwinds, storms, and lightning.

"To counter a divine weapon, we'll need another divine weapon."

Bruce turned his palm over, revealing the Elder Wand.

With a flick of his wrist, the wand transformed. Its shape elongated and thickened, revealing the hilt of a hammer—just the hilt.

"What kind of weapon is this?" Diana's eyes widened.

"You actually fight with this?!"

Hogwarts, she thought, must be guilty of student abuse. If students were expected to fight, the least they could do was hand out proper swords!

"This was once a hammer," Bruce explained. "But its head shattered, and I lack the ability to reforge it."

"But here, in this world of gods, I believe the hammer can be reborn."

If the Hammer of Thor could be restored, they might stand a chance against the Trident of Poseidon.

"Just be careful when the real fight starts," Kathoom interjected. "The Trident of Poseidon is mine, by the way!"

The battle hadn't even begun, but the loot had already been claimed.

Diana found herself struggling to reconcile this greedy, avaricious owl with its reputation as Athena's companion.

Was it possible the owl was taking after its owner? Could Athena herself be... greedy?

Pushing the thought aside, she asked Bruce, "How do you plan to repair this hammer?"

"Surely you're not going to ask Ares for help? He didn't seem like the crafty type."

At Diana's question, Bruce spoke a single name, soft but resolute:

"Hephaestus."

Hephaestus, the Greek god of the forge and fire, was famed for his craftsmanship. In Diana's classic arsenal, she wielded the Godkiller Sword, forged by Hephaestus himself—a blade capable of cutting down to the subatomic level.

Bruce appealed to Diana's practicality.

"Your Godkiller Sword was reduced to ashes. You need a replacement weapon."

True, Diana still had her Lasso of Truth.

But a lasso wasn't exactly an ideal primary weapon in combat. Besides, its use leaned heavily into whipping and binding.

Bruce had no particular interest in those dynamics.

Diana was skeptical of Bruce's plan.

"You're going to find the forge god?" she asked incredulously.

"But Hephaestus is a god—he's long since vanished from the mortal world. How do you expect to find him?"

It was Kathoom who answered.

"He can be found," the owl said.

"The Old Gods may have disappeared from the human realm, but their connections to this world aren't completely severed.

"They reside in a realm called the Godsphere, and its entrance is on Earth."

Kathoom puffed up proudly.

"Many millennia ago, I dealt with them. While I never entered the Godsphere myself, I still remember where the entrance is."

The Godsphere was guarded by enchantments, its entrance inaccessible to ordinary mortals.

But Bruce and Diana weren't ordinary mortals. With Halley's Speed Force, breaking through interdimensional barriers wouldn't be an issue.

"Among the Old Gods, Hephaestus is the most reasonable," Bruce explained.

"And besides, he's your brother. If one of your other brothers bullied you, wouldn't he be the one to help? Could he possibly refuse?"

Hephaestus, Bruce thought, was like Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Hideous in appearance but kind at heart.

In some DC continuities, Hephaestus was even known for taking in and caring for all the male children born on Themyscira.

While the DCEU version hadn't done that, his compassion remained central to his character.

"Diana," Bruce advised, "when you meet Hephaestus, play up how helpless and desperate you are. It won't hurt your warrior's pride—he's family, after all."

Diana blinked.

Was Bruce seriously planning to exploit her identity as a sister to the gods?

How many brothers and sisters did she even have? She couldn't keep track.

"Are you feeling conflicted?"

Bruce smirked.

"Exploiting family connections works like this: all you need to do is show up looking pitiful and lost. I'll handle the tricky parts—saying the right words and making the right moves."

"Diana, the things you can't say, I'll say for you. The things you can't do, I'll do for you."

"That's what makes us the perfect team."

Perfect team?

This was the first time Diana had heard the phrase.

But she couldn't deny Bruce's determination. He had come up with countless strategies to help her reclaim the wishes.

"Fine, perfect team."

Diana sighed in resignation.

"What's the plan to find Hephaestus?"

"That's easy."

Bruce gestured toward Halley, who was gleefully munching on rocks.

"She'll lead us to him. She'll help us reforge the Hammer of Thor—and craft you a new weapon."

But that wasn't all.

Silently, Kathoom considered his own goal.

I'll also be learning the forge god's craft for myself.

---

Ahem! Gather close, esteemed audience! Do you comprehend the privilege of basking in my radiance? Truly, you're witnessing history in the making—a performance unparalleled in the annals of Fontaine!

Ah, but don't get distracted! Let me be clear: this brilliance isn't conjured from thin air. No, no, no! It requires effort, dedication, and… well, a touch of your generosity. If you fancy being part of something truly extraordinary, do step forward here: [patreon.com/WiseTL].

Oh, but wait! You're probably wondering, "Furina, how can someone as magnificent as you need assistance?" To that, I say: why deny mortals the honor of contributing to such greatness? Supporting me is supporting art, and who doesn't want to say they were instrumental in a legend's rise?

Now, off you go. Make your offerings, and perhaps, perhaps, I'll acknowledge you in my next soliloquy!

— Furina ✨