Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

Pig-Faced Professor was a man of decisiveness.

If victory was within reach, he would gladly contribute his talents and fight for the empire.

But with Superman's arrival, the situation had spiraled far beyond his expectations. The possibility of winning was now practically nonexistent.

In such a scenario, survival became his only priority.

"If only I'd had more time to prepare additional backup bodies."

Pig-Faced Professor cursed inwardly. "If I die again, this time it'll be for real!"

His biggest regret now was that he hadn't prepared kryptonite before arriving in this world.

If he had, perhaps he would stand a chance against Superman.

But he couldn't blame himself entirely. Who could've predicted that Superman would appear here?

Perhaps anyone who had spent time in Gotham would have the same thought process when facing Superman.

At this moment, Bruce was speeding through the clouds in the Batmobile on his way to Berlin.

Although their current target was Black Adam, Bruce was already strategizing for the possibility of confronting Superman.

He shared his thoughts with Kathoom, but the owl quickly shook his head.

"Kryptonite may be effective against Superman, but it might not work on the Red Son."

Kathoom explained, "At the end of the day, the Red Son is often mistaken for an alien—perhaps even Clark himself believes that—but the truth is, he's Earth-born through and through."

In a distant future, the sun had begun to die, preparing to swallow the Earth.

Clark's parents sent him back in time, hoping to change that fate.

The time machine that carried him was mistaken for an alien spacecraft, leading to the misconception that the Red Son was extraterrestrial.

"Because his origins are different, Superman's usual weaknesses don't necessarily apply to him," Kathoom concluded.

Superman had several weaknesses: kryptonite, magic, and Lois Lane.

But the Red Son wasn't Kryptonian, and he had no romantic attachments. The only real threat to him, perhaps, was magic.

Bruce murmured, "I wonder if the Avada Kedavra curse would work on Superman."

Kathoom tilted his head. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"You're really insightful," Bruce replied sarcastically before refocusing on the matter.

If Superman's resistance to magic wasn't perfect, then as a wizard wielding the Speed Force and Mjölnir, Bruce figured he could at least hold his own.

Not to mention, he had Diana as backup.

With those thoughts settling in his mind, Berlin appeared below them, just beyond the clouds.

Meanwhile, Kathoom rested his beak on his wing, still pondering Bruce's earlier comment.

Would Avada Kedavra work on Superman?

Probably. After all, kryptonite is green, and the killing curse is green too. Maybe Superman just naturally clashes with the color green.

---

"ROOOAAAR!"

A deafening roar shook the underground tunnels as a massive purple creature was slammed to the ground.

Clark stood there silently, his calm gaze concealing both anger and sorrow.

The monster he had just thrown—hulking, grotesque, its purple skin covered in warts—had once been human.

Crown Prince Karl, heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

When Pig-Faced Professor detonated himself, the resulting cloud of purple smoke had infected the unprepared prince.

Clark had watched, horrified, as the young man's body swelled and mutated into a mindless beast.

"Its strength must have been at least twenty tons."

Clark recalled the brief clash. The prince's explosive transformation had been terrifying.

The thought of this biochemical weapon being deployed on a battlefield… the devastation would be unimaginable.

"Pig-Faced Professor, you truly deserved to die…" Clark said softly.

The purple-skinned monster lay gasping on the ground, struggling to rise again and again. It showed no fear, only raw, instinctual bloodlust.

It was kill or be killed.

Watching this, Clark felt a deep sadness. A young man, full of life, had been turned into this.

Enough.

He would put an end to its suffering.

Clark's eyes suddenly flared with crimson light, and his heat vision shot forth, cutting through the creature's body.

When the red glow faded, all that remained was a charred husk.

"Sigh…"

Clark let out a quiet sigh, as if mourning Crown Prince Karl's death.

"I'll avenge you."

With that, Clark soared upward, smashing through the ceiling, through the clouds, and beyond the atmosphere.

Suspended in the vastness of space, bathed in golden sunlight, Clark looked down at the blue planet below him.

He was like a god gazing down upon the Earth.

With a single glance, he pinpointed his target.

"Pig-Faced Professor, I've found you."

Clark whispered, ready to dive down and put an end to the despicable scientist.

But then—

"What's that?"

Clark's eye caught sight of something strange.

A vehicle, its design completely out of place in this era, was speeding through the clouds. Inside sat a boy and a woman.

The boy and woman were wearing identical rings—rings that looked suspiciously like wedding bands.

The car was heading straight for Berlin.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Clark suddenly felt an intense curiosity about the boy.

A curiosity that eclipsed even his desire to kill Pig-Faced Professor.

"Even children are being summoned into this war?"

Clark found this hard to accept, even harder to understand.

What could a child possibly contribute to a war like this?

Coincidentally, his destination was also Berlin, where Pig-Faced Professor was heading.

There was also another presence in Berlin—one that even Clark could feel was immensely powerful.

"Berlin…"

Clark thought to himself. If this boy is trying to stop the war, I'll lend him a hand.

But if he's trying to join the war…

Clark wouldn't hesitate to grab him and bring him to his mentor for a proper lesson.

---

"Someone is watching us."

Inside the Batmobile, Kathoom's voice echoed in Bruce's mind.

Bruce's expression remained unreadable as he asked, "Do you know who it is?"

"Who else? It's Superman."

Kathoom replied, "But I didn't sense any hostility. My instincts tell me he's just curious about the Batmobile and isn't hostile—for now."

Bruce's magical training had heightened his awareness, granting him a sort of Bat-Sense for nearby threats.

Kathoom, naturally, had a similar ability—only far more powerful. He could even detect Superman's gaze from beyond Earth's atmosphere.

"Owl-Sense isn't entirely useless," Kathoom mused to himself. "But if Superman really wanted to attack us, his speed alone would make it impossible to evade, even if we sensed it."

This realization sent a chill of urgency through him.

Could Bruce really take on Superman right now?

Magic might work, but if Bruce tried fighting the way he had at Hogwarts—chanting spells—Superman could kill him a hundred times over in the time it took to finish an incantation.

Only with the Hellbat Armor, the Speed Force, and Mjölnir could Bruce hope to keep up.

But—

Both summoning the armor and calling Mjölnir took time.

"I need to upgrade the Bat-Armor."

Kathoom thought. "I need to add a protective measure while Bruce equips it."

Perhaps casting a Disillusionment Charm over the armor during summoning.

It wouldn't take much—just one second would be enough.

That way, even if Bruce added one of his ridiculous flourishes during combat, he wouldn't risk being struck down mid-transformation.

"Berlin's in sight," Bruce said, steering the Batmobile downward to land in an empty area.

Knowing Superman might be watching made his movements slightly stiff.

He's not here to be friendly, Bruce thought.

This could be the strongest opponent he'd ever faced.

Superman.

A Superman without weaknesses was no less dangerous than Homelander.

When he'd defeated Homelander, it was through clever tricks. A direct fight… well, the outcome would be uncertain.

And Superman's arrival wasn't even part of the original plan. His real target had been Black Adam.

"The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind."

Bruce recalled the saying.

It seemed that this time, he and Diana would be facing two enemies at once.

---

Russia, the Winter Palace.

Tsar Nicholas II once again found himself standing at the entrance of the Merciless's meditation chamber.

"Sir."

Nicholas carefully chose his words. "How are you feeling today?"

It had been a long time since the Merciless had declared to him, "If I enter the war, it will end immediately."

The Tsar had been ecstatic then, certain that his luck had finally turned. His reign, he believed, would at last be solidified for generations.

But time had proven otherwise.

The Merciless had done absolutely nothing since then. He remained in his meditation chamber day after day, showing no intention of fighting or even leaving the room.

Nicholas's patience had long since frayed. Unable to bear it, he could only find excuses—expressing concern for the Descender's well-being—while trying to gently push the Merciless into action.

The front lines were filled with his troops, ordinary human soldiers.

And they were facing the beast soldiers of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, as well as the occasional appearance of Black Adam on the Eastern Front.

Victory seemed impossible.

The war was bleeding the empire dry, internal unrest was boiling over, and uprisings had begun across the nation.

Nicholas could already see the day he would be overthrown.

When that day came, he feared he would end up hiding in a basement, cowering from the mobs.

The Merciless, however, seemed utterly indifferent to Nicholas's turmoil.

With his back still turned to the Tsar, the Merciless stood staring at a painting.

It was a piece he had requested personally—depicting the armies of Satan bursting forth from Hell into the world of men.

The painting's theme was clear: the enemy comes from below.

But at the moment, the Merciless had hung the painting upside down. Now, the enemies appeared to descend from the heavens instead.

The heavens could mean many things.

Aliens? Gods? Or enemies from beyond this world?

Whatever the Merciless meant, the Tsar couldn't begin to guess.

The only conclusion Nicholas had drawn was that the Merciless's artistic sense was abysmal—he didn't even seem to know which side of the painting was up.

"Your Majesty."

At long last, after what felt like an eternity, the Merciless slowly turned to face him.

"I've kept you waiting."

The words might have sounded apologetic, but Nicholas detected no trace of sincerity in his tone.

"No matter. I'm the one interrupting your thoughts."

By this point, Nicholas no longer dared criticize the Merciless. If he offended this man and drove him away, his already crumbling empire would truly be doomed.

"Sir."

Nicholas cleared his throat softly and probed, "Have you been paying attention to the battlefield lately? We've suffered yet another defeat. The Austro-Hungarian beast soldiers don't fear bullets or artillery. Our casualties have been immense."

"Of course I noticed. And so what?"

The Merciless, true to his name, showed no trace of mercy or concern for the lives of the soldiers.

"If the beast soldiers don't commit enough atrocities, how else will we lure him out?"

"Him?"

Nicholas was confused. Who was he referring to?

"Know your enemy, and you will win a hundred battles."

The Merciless replied. "War is an art, Your Majesty. One you don't seem to understand."

Nicholas forced an awkward laugh, silently cursing the Merciless a thousand times over in his mind.

He says I don't understand the art of war?

Fine! It's true!

But so what? I'm the Tsar. My job is to be the Tsar. It's the marshals and generals who are supposed to fight wars!

Despite the insult, Nicholas didn't feel the slightest bit of offense.

"Just wait."

He thought to himself bitterly. "When this war ends, I'll have a thousand ways to deal with you!"

The Merciless seemed to sense the Tsar's thoughts, but he didn't bother addressing them. Instead, he stepped forward and unrolled a map.

It was a map of Europe.

A prominent red circle had been drawn around Berlin, the capital of Germany.

"The stage is set. The actors are taking their places."

The Merciless spoke softly as he laid out the current battlefield for the Tsar.

He hadn't been idle at all—in fact, he had done more than all the other Descenders combined.

A true master of war leaves no obvious victories.

The Merciless, with his divine War God essence, had taken this concept to its absolute extreme.

"I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised that Bruce Wayne has appeared in this world."

The Merciless continued, "Though it's a shame I didn't have time to inform Lord Barbatos."

"But no matter. Once I capture him, I'll have all the time in the world to find a way out of this world. Winning this war will be a fine start."

As he stared at the map, it was as though the events themselves were playing out before his eyes.

Batman was already in position.

Superman was on his way.

Now, the clash between Batman and Superman could finally begin.

---

...he's late [patreon.com/WiseTL]