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Chapter 808: Duzun: I'm So Awesome! Zarathos: I Tried So Hard!
Those who know the super-ancient history of Earth are aware that twenty thousand years ago, the first generation of Spirits of Vengeance appeared on Earth in massive, clustered groups.
They were born amidst a fire rain that fell from the sky. During that period of Earth's greatest vulnerability, the first-generation Spirits of Vengeance became its strongest and most reliable defensive force.
Earth's two great overlords, the Eternals, were in miserable exile among the stars. The Deviants, before they could even enjoy the fruits of their civil war victory and recuperate, were subsequently annihilated by the Celestials.
The Spirits of Vengeance, descending from the heavens, were the guardians of Earth during that fragile era.
Zarathos happened to walk right into the line of fire. The moment he descended upon Earth, he was targeted by the first-generation Spirits of Vengeance, who were sharpening their blades in anticipation. No communication was needed; a great war erupted.
The result was tragic. Zarathos was completely dumbfounded by a horde of seemingly endless and unkillable Spirits of Vengeance. Covered in wounds, he fled back to Hell.
Zarathos held that grudge, noting it down in his little black book for twenty thousand years.
But for some unknown reason, as Earth's native factions rose to power, these astonishingly numerous Spirits of Vengeance began to disappear one by one. By the modern era, the Ghost Rider was the sole remaining descendant on the entire planet...
Of course, if one were to search carefully, a few more Spirits of Vengeance could still be found, but they were all from countless generations later.
"Why am I, Zarathos, so unlucky? On what grounds does that nascent New God always get everything?"
Zarathos fumed inwardly. He tried so hard, yet he was always one step behind. Why?
Could it be that some Supreme Being was protecting the New God, but not him, Zarathos?
"I only slept for twenty thousand years! I work so hard, why can I never get what I want?" Zarathos felt utterly wronged.
A few years ago, when Tony ascended to become a Level Seven Singular God, he was awakened by the light of the Singularity. He had rushed excitedly to the Multiverse, only to find out that his "old friend" Mephisto had been dealt with by Tony. He himself was so intimidated by Tony's overwhelming power that he cautiously retreated back to Hell.
"This world is truly unfair!"
Zarathos furiously grabbed the sharp horns on his head with both hands, feeling absolutely miserable.
To just scurry back like this... Zarathos felt unreconciled. He had been stuck at the limit of Level Seven for too long, just a single step away from the threshold of Level Eight. His fame was so great that all of Hell knew of this candidate for Level Eight Great Demon.
Yet, Zarathos never knew how to cross that tiny step. He was better than those below him, but not as good as those above.
Just as Zarathos was caught in this dilemma, on the other side of things, Duzun was furtively leading a huge figure away from Cybertron.
Duzun's neck was slightly hunched, as if he had a guilty conscience, but he was trying hard to put on a facade of being powerful as he walked in front.
Behind him, the Doomsday King Kong followed silently. Only occasionally did its gaze, directed at Duzun's back, carry a hint of impatience and ferocity.
This barely suppressed, savage aura grated on Duzun's nerves.
"Staying on Cybertron, you have no future. Only by following this Big Shot will you have a chance to see a different kind of world."
Duzun said to the Doomsday King Kong, bracing himself.
The Doomsday King Kong snorted, the mockery in its eyes unconcealed.
Duzun's face darkened. He had a faint, ominous premonition. It seemed this monster, whose mind was filled with nothing but killing, killing, killing, wasn't as low-IQ as he had imagined...
Duzun had a dream: to become a major figure in the Multiverse. And now, he was about to take the first step toward becoming that major figure—having an outstanding progeny as a subordinate!
That's right, Duzun firmly believed this!
Look at Darkseid! Then look at Tony!
How outstanding their descendants were! So outstanding that even Duzun was filled with awe!
As he thought about it, Duzun successfully hypnotized himself, falling into an indescribable state of narcissism. He felt he was truly remarkable. For someone as outstanding and hardworking as himself to deign to become Tony's adopted son—it was truly Tony's honor!
Without me, Duzun! What right do you, Tony, have to clash with a being like Darkseid!
Yes, that's it! This is the goddamn truth!
"The Blackest Night was merely a stepping stone for my name to awe the Multiverse! Do you know how many times I've saved Cybertron? Too many to count! Without me, Cybertron would have fallen long ago! Do you know how many Black Lanterns I've killed? I'll tell you: ten billion!"
Duzun arrogantly held up one index finger.
The Doomsday King Kong suddenly grew quiet. After a moment of thought, it gave Duzun a thumbs-up.
What it meant was, it had killed ten times ten billion.
When Duzun saw this, he swelled with pride on the spot, his ego exploding!
See that? The Doomsday King Kong has finally submitted to my greatness! Look, it's even giving me a thumbs-up!!!
As a Kryptonian from the Anti-Matter Universe, Duzun now wore a majestic expression. A holy light, lofty and indescribably noble, faintly rose behind his head.
No one understood the significance of Doomsday better than Duzun.
Strictly speaking, Doomsday was also a Kryptonian, far more terrifying than the likes of Golden Superman or Silver Superman! Ancient Doomsday could even beat up Darkseid! Even the New Gods were wary of it!
And what about him? He had actually tricked—bah, recruited—a new model of Doomsday, with potential no less than that of Ancient Doomsday, as his subordinate!
How freaking awesome is that record?
In the entire Multiverse, which Kryptonian was as awesome as him, Duzun?
Duzun truly felt he was beyond amazing; he was already a big shot.
He completely ignored the Doomsday King Kong, which had been looking at him like he was a moron the entire time.
Lord Duzun didn't need to bother with such minor details. Big shots don't concern themselves with minor details.
"I heard some news from Ultron. There's a demon from Hell lurking in the Prime Universe. This demon is still too young. I'm going to teach him a lesson."
As Duzun rambled on, the Doomsday King Kong's patience was nearly exhausted. It was now forcefully suppressing the murderous urge to crush Duzun with a single slap.
The Doomsday King Kong was wild and untamable. It had even dared to challenge its creator, Tony, let alone Duzun.
If it weren't somewhat curious about this moron's target, the Doomsday King Kong really would have reached out and crushed him.
Killing this anti-matter kinsman would be very simple. Raise a hand, press down, and it could knead Duzun into a pulp.
The two figures quickly vanished into the depths of the Prime Universe, viciously pouncing toward the oblivious Zarathos.
At that moment, Zarathos, who had been planning to take a nap on a planet before deciding his next move, suddenly felt a thick wave of malice, jolting him awake.
"Who is it? Could The Spectre be back?"
Zarathos looked around suspiciously, muttering to himself. In the back of his mind, he suddenly felt that coming to the Prime Universe had been a colossal mistake...
(end of chapter)
Those who know the super-ancient history of Earth are aware that twenty thousand years ago, the first generation of Spirits of Vengeance appeared on Earth in massive, clustered groups.
They were born amidst a fire rain that fell from the sky. During that period of Earth's greatest vulnerability, the first-generation Spirits of Vengeance became its strongest and most reliable defensive force.
Earth's two great overlords, the Eternals, were in miserable exile among the stars. The Deviants, before they could even enjoy the fruits of their civil war victory and recuperate, were subsequently annihilated by the Celestials.
The Spirits of Vengeance, descending from the heavens, were the guardians of Earth during that fragile era.
Zarathos happened to walk right into the line of fire. The moment he descended upon Earth, he was targeted by the first-generation Spirits of Vengeance, who were sharpening their blades in anticipation. No communication was needed; a great war erupted.
The result was tragic. Zarathos was completely dumbfounded by a horde of seemingly endless and unkillable Spirits of Vengeance. Covered in wounds, he fled back to Hell.
Zarathos held that grudge, noting it down in his little black book for twenty thousand years.
But for some unknown reason, as Earth's native factions rose to power, these astonishingly numerous Spirits of Vengeance began to disappear one by one. By the modern era, the Ghost Rider was the sole remaining descendant on the entire planet...
Of course, if one were to search carefully, a few more Spirits of Vengeance could still be found, but they were all from countless generations later.
"Why am I, Zarathos, so unlucky? On what grounds does that nascent New God always get everything?"
Zarathos fumed inwardly. He tried so hard, yet he was always one step behind. Why?
Could it be that some Supreme Being was protecting the New God, but not him, Zarathos?
"I only slept for twenty thousand years! I work so hard, why can I never get what I want?" Zarathos felt utterly wronged.
A few years ago, when Tony ascended to become a Level Seven Singular God, he was awakened by the light of the Singularity. He had rushed excitedly to the Multiverse, only to find out that his "old friend" Mephisto had been dealt with by Tony. He himself was so intimidated by Tony's overwhelming power that he cautiously retreated back to Hell.
"This world is truly unfair!"
Zarathos furiously grabbed the sharp horns on his head with both hands, feeling absolutely miserable.
To just scurry back like this... Zarathos felt unreconciled. He had been stuck at the limit of Level Seven for too long, just a single step away from the threshold of Level Eight. His fame was so great that all of Hell knew of this candidate for Level Eight Great Demon.
Yet, Zarathos never knew how to cross that tiny step. He was better than those below him, but not as good as those above.
Just as Zarathos was caught in this dilemma, on the other side of things, Duzun was furtively leading a huge figure away from Cybertron.
Duzun's neck was slightly hunched, as if he had a guilty conscience, but he was trying hard to put on a facade of being powerful as he walked in front.
Behind him, the Doomsday King Kong followed silently. Only occasionally did its gaze, directed at Duzun's back, carry a hint of impatience and ferocity.
This barely suppressed, savage aura grated on Duzun's nerves.
"Staying on Cybertron, you have no future. Only by following this Big Shot will you have a chance to see a different kind of world."
Duzun said to the Doomsday King Kong, bracing himself.
The Doomsday King Kong snorted, the mockery in its eyes unconcealed.
Duzun's face darkened. He had a faint, ominous premonition. It seemed this monster, whose mind was filled with nothing but killing, killing, killing, wasn't as low-IQ as he had imagined...
Duzun had a dream: to become a major figure in the Multiverse. And now, he was about to take the first step toward becoming that major figure—having an outstanding progeny as a subordinate!
That's right, Duzun firmly believed this!
Look at Darkseid! Then look at Tony!
How outstanding their descendants were! So outstanding that even Duzun was filled with awe!
As he thought about it, Duzun successfully hypnotized himself, falling into an indescribable state of narcissism. He felt he was truly remarkable. For someone as outstanding and hardworking as himself to deign to become Tony's adopted son—it was truly Tony's honor!
Without me, Duzun! What right do you, Tony, have to clash with a being like Darkseid!
Yes, that's it! This is the goddamn truth!
"The Blackest Night was merely a stepping stone for my name to awe the Multiverse! Do you know how many times I've saved Cybertron? Too many to count! Without me, Cybertron would have fallen long ago! Do you know how many Black Lanterns I've killed? I'll tell you: ten billion!"
Duzun arrogantly held up one index finger.
The Doomsday King Kong suddenly grew quiet. After a moment of thought, it gave Duzun a thumbs-up.
What it meant was, it had killed ten times ten billion.
When Duzun saw this, he swelled with pride on the spot, his ego exploding!
See that? The Doomsday King Kong has finally submitted to my greatness! Look, it's even giving me a thumbs-up!!!
As a Kryptonian from the Anti-Matter Universe, Duzun now wore a majestic expression. A holy light, lofty and indescribably noble, faintly rose behind his head.
No one understood the significance of Doomsday better than Duzun.
Strictly speaking, Doomsday was also a Kryptonian, far more terrifying than the likes of Golden Superman or Silver Superman! Ancient Doomsday could even beat up Darkseid! Even the New Gods were wary of it!
And what about him? He had actually tricked—bah, recruited—a new model of Doomsday, with potential no less than that of Ancient Doomsday, as his subordinate!
How freaking awesome is that record?
In the entire Multiverse, which Kryptonian was as awesome as him, Duzun?
Duzun truly felt he was beyond amazing; he was already a big shot.
He completely ignored the Doomsday King Kong, which had been looking at him like he was a moron the entire time.
Lord Duzun didn't need to bother with such minor details. Big shots don't concern themselves with minor details.
"I heard some news from Ultron. There's a demon from Hell lurking in the Prime Universe. This demon is still too young. I'm going to teach him a lesson."
As Duzun rambled on, the Doomsday King Kong's patience was nearly exhausted. It was now forcefully suppressing the murderous urge to crush Duzun with a single slap.
The Doomsday King Kong was wild and untamable. It had even dared to challenge its creator, Tony, let alone Duzun.
If it weren't somewhat curious about this moron's target, the Doomsday King Kong really would have reached out and crushed him.
Killing this anti-matter kinsman would be very simple. Raise a hand, press down, and it could knead Duzun into a pulp.
The two figures quickly vanished into the depths of the Prime Universe, viciously pouncing toward the oblivious Zarathos.
At that moment, Zarathos, who had been planning to take a nap on a planet before deciding his next move, suddenly felt a thick wave of malice, jolting him awake.
"Who is it? Could The Spectre be back?"
Zarathos looked around suspiciously, muttering to himself. In the back of his mind, he suddenly felt that coming to the Prime Universe had been a colossal mistake...
(end of chapter)
