Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman

The Pig-Faced Professor was dumbfounded by Merciless's sudden request.

He could understand the desire to craft a body for a young boy; it wasn't the first time he'd encountered such a demand. Many wealthy individuals, having fulfilled their life's pursuits, sought one thing above all else—eternal life.

These people would go to unimaginable lengths to achieve it.

Using a young body for a soul transfer? That was a common approach.

Especially after the Pig-Faced Professor had observed Merciless's face—scarred and weary. This Bruce Wayne, he thought, must have gone through a lot.

But—

What the Pig-Faced Professor couldn't understand was this: Why also create an owl's body?

Was this some ritual he'd never heard of?

"Ahem—"

The Pig-Faced Professor cleared his throat and said, "The experiments can be done, but I must clarify one thing first."

"Compensation isn't an issue."

Merciless replied coldly, "As far as I'm concerned, anything that can be solved with money isn't a problem."

"That's only part of it."

The Pig-Faced Professor decided to be upfront. "I'm not a formal researcher. My past experiments were primarily aimed at causing societal chaos…"

"What are you trying to say?" Merciless's brow furrowed.

"What I mean is, my previous creations were essentially stitched-together Frankenstein monsters."

The Pig-Faced Professor quickly explained, "So, this time, whether it's the boy or the owl, the body will have visible stitching, resembling something akin to…

"A zombie!"

Like the legendary Frankenstein's monster, composed of sewn-together corpse parts, riddled with surgical scars.

This time would be no different.

Creating something lifelike was out of the question—that wasn't the Pig-Faced Professor's forte.

His works had always leaned toward the grotesque.

"That's fine."

Merciless didn't see this as a problem.

"Just focus on creating those two bodies. I'll handle the rest."

With that, Merciless left the room.

Outside was a long, spiraling staircase. Ascending it led to a tranquil garden.

This was a bunker within the Winter Palace, used for executing tasks best kept in the shadows.

"Bruce, the owl…"

Merciless gazed at the serene garden and murmured, "I hope you'll both appreciate the gift I've prepared for you."

Superman had a well-known nemesis: Bizarro.

Created by Lex Luthor through the combination of Superman's DNA and human DNA, Bizarro was a clone with inverted powers—ice vision instead of heat vision, and flame breath instead of freezing breath.

Even kryptonite strengthened him, and his chest emblem was reversed.

Bizarro was created for one purpose: to kill and replace Superman.

Now, Merciless would give young Bruce a Bizarro of his own.

"To truly bring zombie Bruce to life, my power alone won't suffice."

Merciless wielded the divine essence of Ares, the God of War, embodying destruction and conflict. But it didn't grant the ability to bestow life.

If it did, he wouldn't have walked this desperate, dark path.

One critical element was missing.

The essence of decay: Solomon Grundy.

Merciless needed the power of the gray to resurrect the dead, to open the eyes of the lifeless.

"No one understands better than I do that the only thing capable of defeating Batman… is another Batman."

Merciless looked skyward, his tone softening as if he were speaking to the wind, hoping it would carry his words to a place he could never reach.

"Diana, can your spirit see all of this?"

---

The Dark Batman, Merciless, hailed from Earth -12, a dark universe consumed by war.

In that universe, Batman and Wonder Woman shared mutual affection, standing together through countless battles until Ares, the God of War, emerged.

Ares had forged a powerful helmet that amplified his divine strength a hundredfold.

Bruce and Diana devised a plan to remove the helmet.

They succeeded, but not without cost—Ares killed Wonder Woman.

In that instant, Bruce descended into madness.

To wield power capable of challenging the gods, he picked up Ares' fallen helmet and wore it.

Diana had warned Bruce that the helmet could corrupt its wearer, but Bruce believed he could reshape the principles of war.

The moment he donned the helmet, the Batman that once was ceased to exist.

In his place stood the avatar of war, the Dark Batman—Merciless.

Upon arriving in this world, Merciless had been closely watching young Bruce's every move.

They were too alike.

This young Bruce Wayne mirrored himself.

Both shared the same name. Both walked alongside Diana. Both faced Ares as their adversary.

But there was a difference: Bruce, with mere words, managed to establish a semblance of peace with Ares, avoiding further bloodshed.

"So, this is the Bright Universe?"

Merciless smirked bitterly.

Born in a Dark Universe, no matter how hard he tried, events always spiraled into darkness.

Meanwhile, the main world's Batman could act with minimal effort, spreading love and peace.

Why?

Was the disparity between universes truly this vast?

Was being born in the Dark Universe Merciless's original sin?

No.

Merciless had made up his mind—to destroy everything the main universe's Batman held dear!

To make the main world experience the pain of the Dark Universe!

"Bruce Wayne…"

Merciless muttered, "The Batman Who Laughs was right. We suffer because others prosper in our place."

In the Dark Universe, all beauty flowed into the Bright Universe, leaving only pain, despair, and darkness behind.

Especially this young Bruce.

He hailed from the main universe, the root of all suffering for every Dark Universe Batman!

If Merciless could make this young Bruce experience the same agony he'd endured, he thought, even killing Diana again would be worth it!

Yes.

On Earth -12, Diana hadn't died at the hands of Ares but at the hands of her lover, Merciless.

At the time, Ares had only knocked Diana unconscious, but Bruce didn't know that.

When Bruce donned the helmet, his mind was corrupted. Diana had tried to persuade him to remove it, but Merciless believed she wanted to take it for herself.

And so, he killed her.

Such pain shouldn't be his burden alone.

Bruce had the God of War's helmet. He had Diana. And for that, he deserved to feel the same pain.

---

Berlin.

The battle between Bruce and Clark had already turned the entire city into rubble.

Hellbat's new form no longer represented the powers of fear and vengeance—it was the force of Diana's protection.

It was the power of love.

Boom!

The sky reverberated with shockwaves from sonic booms as the two figures clashed repeatedly, only to separate just as quickly.

Clark's red cape fluttered behind him as he became a streak of red light, roaring in fury. He charged at Bruce with astonishing speed, faster than sound, throwing a punch at the speed of light.

The air tore apart in that instant, releasing a piercing screech that echoed like a crack in the heavens, shaking every inch of space.

Bruce evaded with the Speed Force, his figure vanishing the moment the light-speed punch landed, leaving behind a trail of golden afterimages.

The counterattack came instantly. Bruce swung Mjölnir, the hammer shattering into fragments connected by countless lightning arcs, forming a whip that stretched from the earth to the heavens.

The whip seemed to possess a will of its own, as unpredictable as natural lightning.

It attacked Clark from unexpected angles, slicing through the air to strike his chest.

Clark reacted swiftly, crossing his arms to form an impenetrable shield with his body, blocking the deadly blow.

But the immense force knocked him off balance, sending him hurtling into the ground.

The earth quaked under his impact, raising clouds of dust like smoke on a battlefield.

The very next second, Clark burst upward again, his fighting spirit unbroken, showing no signs of defeat.

The battle grew fiercer, with Bruce and Clark fighting from the ruins of the ground to the heights of the clouds, and from the clouds plunging into the depths of the ocean.

Each collision was like a supernova, radiating brilliance that illuminated the deep sea. Every swing of lightning churned the water, raising towering waves as if the entire ocean boiled from their conflict.

Their fight made the whole world tremble, leaving countless beings breathless as they gazed at this unimaginable showdown.

After another intense clash, both felt an unprecedented exhaustion and retreated simultaneously.

Huff—

Bruce panted heavily, realizing that continuing the fight likely wouldn't lead to a favorable outcome.

Why did this freak Clark only grow stronger the longer they fought?

When he fought Black Adam earlier, he'd clearly been struggling.

Bruce couldn't figure it out.

Meanwhile, between breaths, Clark spotted a small opening in Bruce's defense.

He quickly steadied his breathing, and the red glow in his eyes intensified, blazing like a solar flare. His heat vision erupted, as radiant as dawn, surging directly at Bruce.

"Enough!"

A golden flash appeared in Bruce's hand—the Trident of Poseidon.

It was no larger than the height of an owl, resembling a golden, forked wand.

With a wave of his hand, Bruce altered the currents of the entire sea, raising massive waves that swept both combatants skyward.

Clark's heat vision missed its target.

Much like how Bruce's earlier Avada Kedavra had missed.

As the massive waves subsided into a brief downpour, Bruce launched his final attack.

Without hesitation, he hurled Mjölnir.

The hammer shattered midair like a grenade, scattering countless fragments.

This grenade-like Mjölnir, enhanced by the powers of Asgard, Olympus, and the Speed Force, finally left Superman with no room to escape.

He was hit squarely in the face by the explosive shards.

"Hephaestus and his twisted sense of humor," Bruce thought as he plummeted downward, recalling his encounter with the god of fire while requesting weapons.

Back then, Hephaestus had eagerly tried to convince Bruce to accept his custom fire grenades. When Bruce refused, the god had dismissed him as a traditionalist who didn't appreciate modern art.

Apparently, Hephaestus hadn't given up on showcasing his art.

During Mjölnir's reforging, he'd snuck in a bit of his signature flair, adding a self-destruct feature to the hammer that made it resemble a grenade.

Bruce let out a bitter smile before his body tumbled headfirst from the sky.

Clark's strength was absurdly unreasonable—every punch landing on the Hellbat armor caused massive energy depletion.

"Hellbat's foundation is too flawed," Bruce thought. The armor's prototype was based on an old suit from a company called Stark Industries.

It had already endured fifty years of wear and tear, making it far from perfect.

Even with enhancements like Nth Metal, it still had innate shortcomings.

"I'll need to rebuild it later. Time for a new model."

Kathoom now had access to nine rare metals and Hephaestus' forge. Crafting a new Hellbat armor wouldn't be a challenge.

Bruce closed his eyes.

The wind howled past his ears as the armor disintegrated into a swarm of bats. To any observer, he appeared defeated, utterly helpless.

But that wasn't the case.

The enchanted cloak still clung to Bruce, ready to wrap him up and let him take flight whenever he wished.

For now, though, there was no need.

Sure enough, the moment Bruce shut his eyes, a shadow zipped past him.

In the next instant, he felt himself enveloped in a soft, fragrant embrace. Opening his eyes, he saw Diana, her Lasso of Truth wrapped around the clouds, catching him mid-fall.

"That was close."

Diana smiled at Bruce, a hint of reproach in her expression.

"Yeah, too close," Bruce replied softly.

He realized this was probably Diana's first time rescuing someone this way—otherwise, she wouldn't have opted to hold him directly.

At the speed he was falling, being caught in her arms was nearly as dangerous as hitting the ground.

By all rights, Bruce's body should have been snapped in two.

It was only thanks to his foresight—casting a protective Iron Armor Charm on himself and leaving part of the Hellbat armor intact—that he'd survived unscathed.

Mid-air rescues were typically Superman's domain.

His bio-electric aura prevented unfortunate accidents.

But no matter how it had happened, Diana had indeed saved Bruce. She hadn't abandoned him, nor had she given up.

"Thank you, Diana."

Bruce thought to himself, I really owe her this time. Guess I'll have to repay her by taking one for the team…

…and marrying her.

---

T/N: aint no way

Oh, you're still here? Nice. While I'm out here juggling revival matches and reminding villains why they should reconsider their life choices, someone's behind the scenes making sure my story reaches you. Gotta admit, they're doing a pretty solid job.

If you want to help keep this whole thing running smoothly, here's the link: [patreon.com/WiseTL]. Think of it as… supporting your favorite underdog. Everyone loves an underdog, right?

Anyway, time to get back to saving the day. See you in the next chapter—don't forget to stay out of trouble (that's my job).

— Xia Luo 🕸️