American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 109 Rank Advancement! Detonating Heaven? [8k]

The brave are the first to enjoy the world.

As the son of Superman, Ian has no shortage of courage.

Brave Ian.

Not afraid of being beaten.

All he wanted was to hear Morpheus call him "Dad." It was a pure and simple wish; Ian had heard from Miss Death that Morpheus was always very grateful.

Miss Death is the second eldest sister of the Endless Family.

It's definitely not a lie.

Moreover, Miss Death agreed to let Morpheus call him "Dad"—the promise with Miss Death was still fresh in his mind, and Ian clearly had his own understanding of her answer.

"..."

A subtle silence filled the Hellcat's carriage.

Hellcat's radio station is silent.

Like the demon's head, it doesn't dare utter a sound now. There are many bold demons in hell, but few are as bold as this.

really.

Ian, you have a bright future ahead of you.

Are you trying to take advantage of me?

Morpheus's pale face was filled with bewilderment. Of course, Morpheus didn't believe Ian when he said he was his father; after all, no normal person would be oblivious to the problem.

"I have amnesia, not dementia." Morpheus pointed to the rearview mirror with his fair finger, where he could see his slender figure.

“You and this girl are at most sixteen or seventeen years old, how could you possibly be my parents?” Morpheus’s logical reasoning and judgment were not affected by his amnesia. His gaze turned to Madison, who was curled up in the passenger seat, unconsciously emitting long, shallow breaths like a kitten.

She is not your mother.

Ian quickly grabbed a black cloth and covered Madison completely. "She's just a poor soul I picked up on the street. I often find poor souls like that when I'm out and about."

Hear the words.

Morpheus paused for a moment.

"So, I'm also someone you picked up on the street... a poor soul?" he asked with a hint of uncertainty, looking thoughtfully at Madison, who had already been covered up.

“I just look younger than I am; I’m actually not young at all.” Ian didn’t answer, but only emphasized the fact that he was small in stature but big in spirit.

"You are telling the truth."

Morpheus was somewhat surprised.

“Of course I’m telling the truth. Here’s what happened. Are you familiar with the Dreamland?” Ian was prepared for both possibilities. If he was caught, he would say it was to provoke Morpheus’s spirit.

To use a strong stimulus to awaken Morpheus's memories, he could certainly gain another wave of favors. As for not being caught... what excuse is needed if you're not caught?
Ian is guaranteed to make a profit no matter what.

"The Land of Dreams?" Morpheus shook his head, but unfortunately, the fragmented memories in his mind were impossible to piece together effectively.

“I remember this name; it’s very important to me.”

It's as if his memories were forcibly shattered by some force, and that force is still affecting his memory recovery—perhaps someone doesn't want him to remember something.

Morpheus was filled with doubt and unease.

at the same time.

Ian was also observing Morpheus's reaction through the rearview mirror. He began to consider a backup plan; even if he couldn't become a father unexpectedly, he wanted to have a place for himself in the dream world.

"That's right, the Dream Kingdom is a faraway place, and I am the Dream Shadow of the Dream Kingdom, the most honored person in the entire Dream Kingdom, and you are the Dream King personally appointed by me."

Ian recently took a course called "The Art of Lying".

Truth and lies need to be mixed together.

The effect is remarkable.

Morpheus looked bewildered, almost as if he couldn't tell the difference.

“The King of Dreams…” Morpheus murmured to himself. His fragmented memories told him that Ian might not be lying, but his intuition told him that something was wrong.

Ian pressed his advantage.

"Think about it, under what circumstances would I make someone king? And hand over an entire country to that person?" His tone was full of earnest persuasion.

"When I'm very important to you?"

Morpheus wisely offered a reasonable speculation.

"Yes, that's right, it seems you've figured it out."

Ian smiled and patted the steering wheel in the passenger seat—he was quite unfamiliar with this position, and he had to take care of two people, which was why he chose to get back into the car.

Faced with Ian's praise.

Morpheus couldn't help but sigh.

"I think I'm being completely fooled by you." Of course, he couldn't believe that Ian was really his father, but he felt an uncanny familiarity with what Ian was saying.

This is someone who knows themselves very, very well.

Morpheus judged in his mind.

"Don't do that. Just call me Father, and I won't even need you to give me 50 Vs or unseal the Dream Army. I'll just help you find all your lost memories for free."

Ian remained undeterred.

He simply wanted to build the deepest bond with the other person.

however.

However, Morpheus was not fooled at all.

"you are too young."

The amnesiac dream god shook his head.

Long black hair swayed around her cheeks.

“Being young isn’t my problem. As long as you choose to believe, anything is possible—give me a chance!” Ian regretted not having studied psychology, such a practical subject.

Hear the words.

Morpheus remained silent for a long time.

"You've already given yourself away!" He lifted his bangs, covered his forehead, and looked utterly helpless, unsure how to describe the conman in front of him. Of course, the amnesiac man was also confused as to why he felt gratitude, even though this person was trying to trick him into calling him "Dad."

"I understand now, we're actually brothers?"

Morpheus was trying his best to make reasonable guesses.

He felt an inexplicable closeness to Ian.

This time.

Ian remained silent for a long time.

“No, I still want to be your father. Your sister promised me.” Perhaps this is what it means to be overly greedy; Ian did not choose to settle for second best.

His tone was firm.

"..."

The carriage fell silent once again.

Morpheus almost pulled his bangs off himself.

"I have an older sister?"

Morpheus found it difficult to process the complex information.

“Yes, you’ve gotten yourself into trouble. It was your sister who begged me to get you out of it.” Ian looked somewhat dejected because his plan had failed.

“An elder sister is like a mother, look how much she worries about her… Hmm? An elder sister is like a mother? From that perspective, we can be brothers, but I have to be the older brother.”

"The eldest brother is like a father."

A sudden inspiration struck him.

It was yet another desperate attempt.

Such a tricky angle.

This caused Morpheus's CPU to malfunction somewhat.

He couldn't understand why the boy in front of him was so determined to be his father.

Is this related to some kind of bet?

Morpheus was completely baffled.

"Give up, I've seen through you." Morpheus sighed, ultimately failing to give Ian his wish. He rubbed his hair and couldn't help but ask.

"You just said I'm in trouble. Could you tell me more about it?" Morpheus asked, his voice filled with worry. He felt like he had forgotten something very important.

"Actually, I don't know too much."

Ian's tone became more serious, "Perhaps it's because you hosted a banquet for witches from beyond the Dream Kingdom, but forgot to invite one, so that witch who wasn't invited is holding a grudge?"

His words made Morpheus's expression quite strange.

"This is the story of Sleeping Beauty."

The ancient gods sensed a slightly familiar scent.

"You don't seem to have amnesia."

Ian sighed helplessly when the book was discovered after it was pieced together.

He wasn't lying.

That's exactly what happened. Ian knew very little about the situation, only that Morpheus had indeed been imprisoned by an evil witch.

Sandman.

sleeping Beauty.

All the same.

They all fell victim to the witch.

No one knows why Morpheus was captured by the Witch Supreme.

“Amnesia doesn’t mean I lack common sense.” Morpheus didn’t actually remember much; he could only instinctively recall some fragmented pieces of information.

“I’ve lost something, my…power.” That was the only thing Morpheus could remember, but he felt there were more important things he hadn’t been able to recall.

Very important.

And it was extremely urgent.

“The Supreme Bone has been dug out, I’m familiar with this matter, as long as you…” Before Ian could finish speaking, Morpheus guessed what he was going to say, so the man quickly interrupted Ian.

"No, I absolutely will not call you that name, give up." Morpheus was very cautious. "You've been fooling me for so long, you should at least tell me my name, right?"

He felt that he might be able to start from this point and find his lost memories, or rather, the memories that had been shattered by some force. A voice inside him urged him to remember everything as soon as possible.

"."

Ian chose to give up. "I still remember that day, yes, yes, when you were born. The entire forest of the Dream Kingdom was whispering this name—Morpheus."

of course.

He may not have completely given up.

"..."

Morpheus was utterly helpless.

but.

He didn't hold it against Ian, because he knew Ian had indeed told him the truth. Morpheus—that name struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"I……"

Morpheus's head began to buzz when he heard his name called. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his long, slender fingers unconsciously gripped the leather seat.

Countless fragments of memories surged in his mind—a castle as dazzling as stars, bookshelves in a library, the sound of crows flapping their wings—they were like shattered mirrors, impossible to piece together.

but.

Morpheus, who had anticipated this, was still searching desperately, looking through those fleeting fragments of memory, trying to capture the most crucial piece of information that he needed to recall.

Hard work will eventually pay off.

Morpheus's eyes reflected a fragmented memory. The next moment, his expression turned serious, and he spoke to Ian in a slightly anxious tone.

“You have to tell them this: due to the loss of my power, I can no longer contact them directly.” Morpheus looked around as if searching for something.

"what's the message?"

Ian asked curiously.

Morpheus did not answer.

His gaze was fixed on the pen in Ian's hand.

"Give me."

At this moment, His divinity seemed to have the upper hand, and His tone carried a sense of aloofness. Ian did not dwell on it, but instead handed Morpheus a pair of gloves.

"What I need is a pen and paper."

Morpheus frowned.

“I know what you want, but you may not know this, but I am a qualified writer, so if you want to borrow my pen, you will need to wear a glove.”

"Don't get me wrong, it's not that I think your hands are dirty, it's just that I'm rather innocent in this regard and don't like being cheated on." Ian's serious explanation struck Morpheus like a thunderbolt.

He was greatly shocked.

I don't know why I was so shocked.

"Goo~"

Swallowed.

Morpheus obediently put on his gloves; he really didn't want to hear any more mind-blowing remarks. "You need to get this message across to them."

talking.

Morpheus took the notebook and pen from Ian and quickly started drawing in the notebook. "This thing was hidden in a diary and sent to our world."

"Because it uses some seemingly harmless disguises, it is very likely that we have not noticed it." The scratching sound of pen nib on paper filled the carriage.

Morpheus was also very fast when he painted.

Such a serious reminder.

This made Ian suspect that the man had already regained his memories.

“It’s okay, just keep drawing. When you finish drawing, your sister will probably know. She often lies somewhere, being overly shy, and secretly spyes on my private life.”

Ian guessed that this matter must involve an extraterrestrial invasion.

"Ok?"

Morpheus glanced at Ian, puzzled.

I stopped painting.

"Finished drawing? What did you draw?"

Ian was amazed by the other person's hand speed, which was comparable to his own.

It seems that this divine power has not been completely lost.

"disaster."

Morpheus spoke in a low, deliberate tone.

"It may be weak now, but it will eventually absorb our nourishment and become strong," he solemnly reminded Ian, handing the notebook back to him.

"That sounds pretty scary."

Ian hasn't had a chance to see it yet.

Then they saw Morpheus open the car door and get out.

"I'm leaving it to you. I need to find my... Supreme Bone?" Well, Morpheus's memories haven't returned; he was still somewhat influenced by Ian after all.

Seeing that the Dream God was about to leave without looking back.

"Don't get caught again. Most importantly, don't forget how I saved your life, or I'll try to take advantage of your kindness," Ian earnestly warned Morpheus.

He froze for a moment when he saw the back of the Dream God.

However, in the end, she did not refuse.

They simply quickened their pace a bit.

"Hey."

Ian turned his head away sadly and picked up the sketches left by Morpheus again. Morpheus's painting style was exquisite, as if he could still use some of the dream power in his body.

The artwork is in motion.

The creature above presents a form that defies geometry. Its main outline is similar to a human figure, but it breaks and reassembles at key points, with twelve tentacles of varying thicknesses extending from the neck.

Its head is humanoid, but has long, writhing tentacles instead of hair. It has dark skin, a slender build, and its torso is covered with constantly changing, eerie patterns.

It's just a matter of looking.

Ian clearly sensed an indescribable malice, like a personification of the deepest fears in human cognition, meticulously packaged into a seemingly rational geometric form. It perfectly exemplified what is "ineffable," both because language is incapable of describing it, and because of its chaotic and uncertain nature.

"Oh shit!"

Ian suddenly remembered the corrupted Supreme Witch, the eerie black mist emanating from her body, and the plants that had mutated due to the influence of the black mist.

"Cthulhu Invasion!"

Ian slammed his notebook shut.

I feel like I won't be able to sleep well tonight if I look at him even once more.

"I've been contaminated by the Cthulhu virus." Ian quickly clasped his hands together and began to pray. This time, he didn't ask Miss Death what color shroud she preferred.

therefore.

Miss Death responded quickly.

When Ian opened his eyes.

The woman sitting in the back seat was already reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Is there anything you wouldn't dare to do?"

Miss Death had changed her outfit, wearing a black lace dress with a motorcycle leather jacket and studded ankle boots, looking like she was going to a gothic concert. She was still holding a drink of unknown origin, swirling it in her hand, and giving the boy in front of her a rather strange look.

"I didn't do anything!"

Ian felt extremely wronged.

“I want you to be his friend, not for you to try to be his father!” Miss Death’s tone was incredulous; she probably never expected Ian to be so audacious.

obviously.

This goddess has indeed been spying all along, at least Ian believes he hasn't spread rumors or caused trouble on that point. Who knows when Miss Death will start spying.

"They all mean the same thing."

Ian was no longer aggrieved; he simply blinked.

"..."

Miss Death's teacup remained still, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly.

She might have wanted to curse, but worried that Ian might take it as a confession, she swallowed back the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

“Cthulhu, yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ian quickly handed over the drawing, but Miss Death didn't take it. After all, she was a voyeur and must have seen Morpheus's entire drawing process clearly.

"We will find out about this."

Miss Death's expression didn't reveal whether she was worried or not.

"What if this thing is hidden very well?"

Ian scratched his head, his tone slightly worried. Although he had learned his lesson about having only two eyes, he didn't want to grow a second little Ian.

“Now that the target has been identified, it cannot escape our sight without the protection of a supreme power.” Miss Death slowly took a sip of tea.

She seemed quite relaxed, and her tone was rather confident.

"Yeah, that's good."

Hearing Miss Death say this, Ian felt relieved. The big shots were certainly more discerning than him, after all, he was just a young man from the metropolis who had only been out of school for less than two and a half years.

"I don't want to keep this, it's bad luck." Ian still handed the drawing, along with his pen of pure love, to Miss Death, fearing that the act of drawing alone would taint him with real misfortune.

"You should keep your lover."

With a gentle squeeze, the moment Miss Death's fingertips touched the paper, the twisted lines suddenly froze and then vanished completely, as if they had never existed.

"I must say, you three brothers have your own opinions... you really do have your own preferences." Miss Death tossed back the sketch and pen, expressing her heartfelt sentiments.

"Since you've said so, I definitely can't keep this pen that you've used to 'green'. The next one will be even better." Ian threw the pen and drawing onto Miss Death's lap again.

His excessive caution turned him from a man of pure love into a scumbag.

"?????"

Miss Death was clearly caught off guard.

There was silence for a long time.

"Keep a close eye on Morpheus, don't let him get captured again," she said again. Sure enough, it wasn't just Ian who was worried about this; Miss Death's instructions were unusually serious.

"Okay! I'm keeping an eye on it."

As if by magic, Ian pulled a book with a hideous cover from under his buttocks. The book had long since been transformed into "Ian's Wise Navigation," and a sycophantic smiley face had even appeared on the cover.

Turn to the inner pages.

The display shows the real-time location of the Dream God whose rank has fallen.

"You're quite cunning."

Miss Death's lips curled up slightly.

“I actually learned to be bad from Batman.” Ian sighed. He was in contact with bad women and bad men every day, so it was really not easy to maintain a pure childlike heart.

"Batman is more likely to have learned bad habits from you."

Miss Death looked at him with disdain.

Ian pretended not to hear and asked tentatively, "I should be considered to have completed my mission, right? Not only did I save Morpheus, but I also used my wits to obtain information about his murder."

He emphasized strategy and tactics.

Miss Death, however, returned the favor in kind.

She was absolutely pretending not to notice Ian's emphasis. Of course, Miss Death didn't pretend not to have guessed the little boy's thoughts about Ian's sudden attempt to take credit.

"I suppose you've finished."

The moment her words fell.

[Rank and weight have increased]

Ian's system notification followed immediately afterward.

"The reward we gave you has already been delivered, and you'll experience just how generous it is in the future." Miss Death was clearly unaware that Ian could feel the so-called reward in real time.

She nodded to Ian, and the next moment, she vanished from the back seat. Coming to his senses, Ian quickly checked the system; sure enough, his data had changed again.
Name: Ian Kent

【普通职业：学生lv8〔78/1280〕作家LV3〔11/40〕领袖LV1〔1/10〕】

【超凡职业：狂战士LV6〔16/320〕野蛮暴君lv5〔43/160〕】

[Global Recognition: Key NPC]

……

Actually.

Ian's global recognition is already high enough.

His recent upgrades have failed to increase his rank weight, proving that his world recognition has already reached a sufficiently high level after receiving the reward last time.

now.

New improvements have emerged.

The original "Independent NPC" approval rating has been changed to "Key NPC" approval rating. As a self-taught scriptwriting talent, Ian is able to understand this change to some extent.

Ordinary NPCs are, of course, background characters with no independent storyline, providing only basic interactive functions, and occasionally a large number of them will die to increase the severity of the [event].

As family members of superheroes, these kinds of NPCs would most likely be used as sacrificial offerings. Fortunately, Ian is no longer at that level, and there's a reason behind his original status as an "independent NPC."

Following the scriptwriting approach.

[Independent NPCs] are related to the main storyline or important side quests, have a complete backstory, may influence the direction of some parts of the story, and may even have their own exclusive story.

of course.

Major events may also involve sacrificial rites to the heavens. And characters with high status and influence, such as "key NPCs," are popular figures, belonging to the upper class who are favored by fate in story creation.

“I’ve become even more prestigious in DC.” Ian had received his reward, and even Cthulhu couldn’t affect his mood anymore; all he wanted to do now was celebrate.

……

The aroma of roast beef wafted through the Kent family's dining room. Louise placed the last plate of creamed corn in the center of the table, steam rising gently under the warm yellow light.

Jordan kept his head down, almost burying his face in his plate, his fingers nervously rubbing the edge of his fork. He was stiff, with a kind of awkwardness that suggested he was ashamed to be seen.

"It's just that you didn't control your strength and accidentally broke the roof while playing ball in the room." Louise ruffled her second son's curly hair and comforted him in a gentle voice.

"Don't worry, you didn't do it on purpose. Your dad will fix the roof." She should have kept Clark in mind; the moment she did, Jordan tensed up even more.

He secretly glanced at his father.

Clark chewed his food in silence.

They just kept eating vegetables.

No opinion was expressed.

"Whoo~"

Jordan let out a long sigh and forced himself to start eating.

"I really didn't mean to."

He chose something he could admit to.

Hear the words.

Louise also expressed her understanding.

“Martha once said that your father also often lost control of his strength when he was a child,” Louise continued to comfort her second son, stuffing Jordan’s plate with beef.

"Yeah!?"

Jordan suddenly widened his eyes, looking at his father with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty, as if he had just thought of something. Meanwhile, Clark continued to keep his head down and eat in silence.

Mouth full of food.

The sounds of frantic chewing were very clear.

“Say something! Are you still thinking about that green-eyed Superman? You should understand that if Ian can drink the potion, there are always other people who could drink that potion and succeed.”

“My father has already gone to investigate.”

Louise looked very confused. She looked at her husband, who was usually quite taciturn, and wondered why he wasn't cooperating with her in encouraging the child.

Clark swallowed the food in his mouth and pointed helplessly to the ceiling.

“I wasn’t thinking about that guy. I’m not talking because Ian is too noisy, I can’t hear anything.” He was obviously trying to change the subject by mentioning his youngest son.

The effect is also very good.

"Ok?"

Louise looked up in surprise, her voice tinged with astonishment, "Ian's upstairs? Didn't he say he wasn't going to eat dinner and was going to stay out a little longer?"

This was the information she and Ian had gathered over the phone. Jordan looked up as well; his eyes could see through physical barriers, but he saw nothing except a hole in the roof.

Ian's room was empty.

"He's in heaven."

Clark finally began to instruct his second son, "You should listen carefully, he's circling above our house, flying back and forth."

"It's already over three hundred laps."

Although mentioning Ian was meant to change the subject, Clark's expression was genuinely helpless. He hadn't actually had such a strong desire to show off when he first awakened his flight ability.

"I can fly now."

Jordan was silenced by his father's gaze as soon as he opened his mouth.

He immediately bent down and started picking at the peas on the plate.

“He’s just a kid, he’s just awakened his abilities, that’s how it is.” Louise looked at her husband meaningfully, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, her eyes carrying an unfathomable feeling.

Superman Potion.

Is it really that effective?
for this matter.

Louise still harbored some doubts.

And at this time.

"Slap!" Clark suddenly slapped his forehead.

"What is it now?" Louise asked, forking a piece of carrot.

"Ian just saved a plane with an engine failure."

Clark looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

"Isn't this a good thing?"

Louise's eyes lit up.

She would be happy to see her son inherit his father's business.

"First of all, only one engine of that plane was damaged. Secondly, there is absolutely no one who would make a 'whoosh' sound while trying to save a plane."

Clark's lips twitched. He had been a professional plane rescuer for thirty years, and his words carried considerable weight. "He had been holding the plane up with both hands and circling it three times in the air."

"The crew and passengers all felt like they had encountered a ghost." The old father's voice carried an indescribable emotion; he could indeed hear everything happening in the sky accurately.

what is this?
Want to play with paper airplanes?
An eerie silence fell over the table. Jordan's fork froze in mid-air, a pea clinking back into the plate. Just then, the sound of a key turning came from the front door.

Jonathan walked in carrying large bags and packages, still carrying the chill of the night air.

"Where did you go today? On a date?" Louise immediately put on a gentle smile and began to inquire about her child's private life like most parents would.

Fortunately, Jonathan wasn't the rebellious type.

"I went to the church and bought some things while I was there."

Jonathan put the shopping bag on the ground and honestly answered the question about his itinerary. Louise casually opened the shopping bag and found that it didn't contain any snacks or daily necessities.

In this very heavy bag.

It was filled with all sorts of statues of gods.

Jesus, Buddha, Zeus, Odin, Ra, Vishnu... there are so many kinds, Jonathan probably bought back every kind of idol that can be found on Earth.

Louise, Jordan, and Clark all looked at Jonathan with bewildered expressions.

"What is this doing?"

Louise suspects Jonathan has been scammed.

Hear the words.

Jonathan scratched his head shyly.

"I mainly think that when it comes to faith, believing as much as you have can't hurt, right?" He flashed his signature sunny smile, his words carrying a subtle effect of silencing others.

"Why is Dad here?"

Jordan silently pulled a still-warm statue out of the bag.

“Ian said this must be believed, and I think it makes sense. I even made a statue of him and you.” Jonathan’s response was deafening, but the statue he pulled out made the dining room even quieter.

This is perhaps the bond of family.

The Kent family.

They do indeed look somewhat different from others.

Check it out.

Louise gripped the bottle again; the rationalist was ready to begin his rational analysis.

(End of this chapter)