American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

The massive Bat-Style console screen emitted a faint blue light, reflected in Bruce Wayne's slightly tired but exceptionally sharp eyes.

His fingers tapped out rhythmic, soft sounds; each character he typed was an analysis of this newly appeared god on earth.

On the left side of the screen are data fragments from that broken Gotham in another world.

A desperate, defeated, and possibly even dead super being.

The superheroes of that world are untouchable gods, tragedies crushed by fate.

On the right side of the screen is a somewhat blurry photo that was just captured from a surveillance camera.

Under the bright sunshine of the metropolis, a tall man wearing black-rimmed glasses was bending over, trying to use his broad back to shield a stray cat from being trampled by the crowd.

His briefcase was bulging.

Bruce paused for a moment in the threat level column, the cursor blinking.

According to rational algorithms, a creature whose breath can blow away a tank and whose body hardness far exceeds that of any alloy currently on Earth should be in the highest threat level, the red zone.

But he typed the following note into that space: "[Simple personality, extremely strong family values, mental age approximately 22 years old...possesses extremely high moral standards. Extremely low aggression.]"

Clark Kent, who is eating leftovers and whose face turns red from a ripped suit, is hard to imagine as a bad guy.

"What are you?"

Xiu En held a discarded batarang that he had found somewhere, and rolled it into a metal ball in his palm like he was rolling a coin.

"Despite being a big guy, he has a soft heart?"

"No."

Bruce didn't even turn around; he simply swiped his hand across the touchpad.

"That's called a risk assessment. And, Shuen, that data isn't as soft as you think."

The screen displayed the energy graph that Xiu En had previously tested in the Metropolis.

After observation, Clark in this world possessed an energy circulation like a rough, unpolished gem. Pure, without impurities, just like…

"Like high-purity gold."

Xiu En casually flicked the metal ball toward the big screen, where it was blocked by the force field shield.

"His power is untainted. Even in a metropolis filled with desire and signal towers, this kid's core still shines brightly. A walking humanoid sun, with a heart made of gold."

Bruce silently archived the diagram, setting the encryption level to the second-highest level, only lower than the level if Batman were to go out of control.

"So, this will make this heart even more precious." Bruce pulled up another document, which vaguely showed several concept images of ore glowing green.

Even if he believed the heart was made of gold, Batman still had to be prepared with a special knife that could cut it open if the gold tried to crush someone.

"The lessons from the other world have taught me that if even the strongest hope is controlled, we have no chance at all."

Bruce said in a low voice.

"But until then... I'll try to trust him. At least for now, he's just a big boy who wants to bring dessert to his mom."

The communication indicator light in the corner of the control panel suddenly lit up, indicating an encrypted anonymous package tracking message.

[Recipient: Kent Farm, Kansas. Item: New high-performance fully automatic harvester. Remarks: Wayne Charitable Foundation Agriculture Support Project / Signed for.]

Xiu En glanced sideways, a knowing, wicked smile playing on his lips: "You talk about using Green Stone to deal with them, but you've delivered this gift pretty quickly. Even if it's anonymous, guess how many foundations in the world like to print their logo on the outline of a harvester?"

Bruce calmly closed the window, stood up, and his tactical cloak unfurled like wings, concealing the fleeting tenderness he had shown as a human being just moments before.

"That's just an investment. Protecting important agricultural assets is in the national interest."

He put on the mask as he walked toward the Batmobile's parking spot.

"Moreover, only farmers who have enough to eat will not make you feel that eating a Michelin-starred restaurant out of business is the end of the world."

Alfred emerged from the shadows, carrying a tray with a still-steaming cup of coffee and a quote for the eyewear sponsor.

"As you said, young master. However, I must remind you..."

The old butler's tone was as perfect as ever, leaving no room for criticism.

"The glasses that reporter was wearing today, while utterly aesthetically pleasing, seemed to have a very peculiar optical refractive index. If you want to fully analyze his gaze trajectory, perhaps next time we should accidentally break them and buy him a pair with built-in sensors?"

Bruce took the coffee and sipped it. "Include it in the plan, Alfred. But not now, and I think it might be simpler to just ask him directly."

His gaze swept over the unchanging, rainy nightscape of Gotham.

"The metropolis has sunshine and steel, but here it's just us. Time to get back to work, friends."

……

Warehouse No. 14, where Black Mask belongs.

The area was heavily guarded, with at least twenty automatic rifles and three modified heavy machine guns positioned on the high ground, and skull masks gleaming pale under the searchlights.

"If we follow the conventional procedure, we need to cut off the power first, and then break in layer by layer."

Inside the Batmobile's cockpit, which resembled a black beast, Bruce calmly described the tactics while looking at the red dots on the holographic map.

But I'm already tired.

Before Xiu En, who was sitting in the passenger seat, could express his opinion, the ejection hatch on the driver's side suddenly popped open.

Bruce suddenly pressed a red button.

"So, this time we'll use Plan B. Your code name is Shock Bomb."

"This will be paid separately as overtime pay...!"

Xiu's protest was forcefully shoved back down his throat by the enormous force pushing him back.

The ejection rocket under the passenger seat ignited instantly, launching the guest who had just finished using the Wi-Fi at Wayne Manor into the air like an intercontinental missile.

A deafening roar, loud enough to wake half of the eastern district, came from the warehouse skylight.

The reinforced glass dome, which even an RPG might not be able to break through, was as fragile as a caramel chip under Xiu En's feet.

Along with the rain of glass, a ball of light was falling at high speed, its brightness increasing exponentially as it fell.

"Enemy attack—! Open fire!"

The black-masked leader had barely uttered half a tactical order when he was choked by a sudden burst of intense light.

All the searchlights looked like fireflies in the face of this light, and the snipers wearing night vision goggles screamed and covered their eyes.

Wearing gain devices in a high-lumen environment is as bad as pressing your eyes against the nozzle of a welding torch.

Da da da da—!

Xiu En didn't even dodge!