Chapter 65: The Echo of the Sun

Is there the Superman you are looking for here... or is he absent?

If he is not here, it means he is likely still living in some parallel universe, and the probability of you two meeting is less than one in ten thousand, akin to two blind men stumbling upon each other in a colossal labyrinth.

However, if he is here... then unfortunately, congratulations and condolences arrive in tandem.

**

Elijah: "..."

For a moment, he fell into a dazed silence.

The good news is that the master of the estate has cataloged 118 Supermen, yet fewer than half are displayed in the Batcave, indicating that the rest are still living quite well in their respective universes.

The bad news is that fewer than half are displayed in the Batcave.

One-third of them were gathered by the estate master from various parallel universes over the past few years, while the remaining two-thirds were handed over by the former Lord of Fate with a request for safekeeping.

To be honest, many people might not experience as much in a lifetime as Elijah had in this single day. The sheer impact forced him to take the initiative and ask: "Are you robbing graves, or..."

"There is no need to visit a graveyard." The estate master reined in his stray thoughts and replied with a deadpan expression, "I traded with the locals to obtain detailed records of every Superman's death, and what is collected in the cave are merely projections of their unfortunate ends."

He raised his hand and pressed a switch on the nearby wall. With a sharp click, all the 'Supermen' vanished from the display cases, leaving only the tags in the lower-left corners of the glass emitting a faint metallic glow under the emergency lighting.

Well, well, well—so they were just projections!

Elijah's emotions surged and plummeted, indignation flaring up: "...You damn well said earlier that they weren't 'rotting'!"

"Information also loses its value with the passage of time," the estate master said with unruffled composure. "If you no longer care about them, it means these things have turned into insignificant mud, much like a pond choked with fallen leaves in autumn."

Elijah originally intended to curse him out, but upon second thought, the estate master had spent all these years risking a beating just to travel the world asking survivors, 'How did your Superman die? Can you lift the lid of the coffin so I can take a photo and build a 3D model?'

Anyone in his shoes would probably be brimming with grievances. Everyone had a hard enough time as it was, so he decided to let it go.

Furthermore, changing from corpses to projections did not alter the fact that less than half of all Supermen were lying inside coffins.

Instead, even remembrance had been reduced to a hollow shadow.

Regaining his composure, Elijah stood in the middle of rows of empty glass cases and said, "So you believe the Lord of Fate was looking for someone back then."

"I am not certain." The estate master hesitated slightly. "He cared deeply about Superman, yet the Supermen in certain universes are vastly different. I thought there had to be a standard by which He measured His attention. But He never explained it to me in detail, only instructing me to record the tail end of the story regardless of the circumstances."

"Could it be that every time you arrived in a parallel universe, the Superman of that world had already reached the end of his life's journey?"

The estate master shook his head: "Not necessarily. Sometimes I entered the 'set' in the middle of a comedy or a tragedy, but no matter what I did, the ending remained unchanged—no matter how we struggle, only we ourselves bring about our ruin.

"This is the essence of fate. I believe He knew this from the very beginning, and therefore neither warned me nor wasted time explaining. I suppose anyone who hears the prophecy and makes their choice will ultimately understand this truth."

Elijah couldn't help but ask: "...Is that how you became a mere observer?"

The estate master smiled: "Yes, an observer just like you once were."

Following that, he let out a breath resembling a sigh and added, "Is it true that the further one walks down this path, the more one understands you and draws closer to you?"

"I don't think so, actually." Elijah said thoughtfully, "You also said the Lord of Fate had a plan, and He clearly didn't think constantly being a 'prisoner of fate' was a good idea. On the other hand, you mentioned that He was looking for someone back then—a specific Superman. Isn't that conclusion a bit hasty? Clearly, you feel He might harbor some special affection for a certain Superman..."

The estate master interrupted him rather sharply: "Are you doubting my judgment?"

"What is the basis of your judgment?"

The black-haired, blue-eyed young man opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Elijah's words seemed to drift from a distant void, echoing in the Batcave and inside his eardrums:

"My view is the exact opposite of yours. The humanity, rights, and duties of that Lord of Fate have not yet been separated; His gaze will never linger on any single individual in this world. Have you ever thought about why He keeps His eyes closed, child? The moment He opens His eyes, the past and future of billions of living creatures in the universe are as clear as ink spots on a blank sheet of paper. He sees everything, knows everything, and can change nothing. I fear it is only when the Supermen of all parallel universes become a conceptual collective in His eyes that He is able to focus His attention upon it at all."

"And... what about me?" the estate master asked hoarsely. "Am I an erroneous digit on the fringe of this collective?"

If the Lord of Fate had once searched for a single, specific Superman, then all he needed to do was help Him keep an eye out for one lucky individual.

Yet what if the Lord of Fate's focus was on a collective?

There were countless lucky ones in countless universes; why should he alone share the exact same origin with them, only to brush past each other midway?

"You are within this collective."

Elijah said in the gentle tone of the Book of Fate, delivering a statement that was anything but gentle: "The Lord of Fate got too many things wrong, child. He was like someone who chased the sun (Superman) for too long, only to be blinded by the overly brilliant light. You care far too much about what He said; in truth, it was all bullshit: being Batman is fine, being Superman is also fine, and the only thing you shouldn't do is listen to Him and go looking for beatings across various worlds—when you were rifling through Superman's coffin, did the Batman of that parallel universe really not beat you up?"

The estate master seemed to choke for a moment, evading Elijah's final question: "...He is you from the past."

"I still stand by my view. The sun is wonderful, and even if its light extinguishes, it shouldn't be put on display in a glass case."

Instead, the estate master began to defend the past Elijah:

"I suppose He simply had no other choice. As you said, He knows everything but can change nothing. Perhaps He really did care a little about Superman... even though that affection was divided among countless parallel universes. And these Supermen in those universes died before His eyes one after another, just like stars that ought to have burned eternally finally reducing to a pile of ashes. Even I would want to leave something behind to prove that those stars once existed."

Elijah wanted to say that He might not have possessed such delicate emotions back then, but the young man before him interrupted, saying: "You know what? Long ago, He also walked ahead of me like this, introducing the sacrificed Supermen from different universes one by one."

Long ago, a boy whose superpowers hadn't even manifested yet, with only the initial curl of hair on his forehead, walked through a dim basement. The Lord of Fate carried a lantern, strolling ahead of him, introducing with detachment yet crystal clarity:

"This is Superman No. 6, a bit more naive than the others, so we didn't fight when we first met; this is No. 11, his uniform is a bit unusual, he told me he modified it himself; this is No. 25, from a dark universe, his manner of death was somewhat unharmonious, so I censored it; that is No. 37, he said he was glad to have met me, even though I couldn't change a thing..."

The current estate master broke free from the memory and said quietly, "Perhaps He focuses on an entire collective of Supermen, but judging by the result, He remembers every single individual."

Elijah was left speechless.

The two remained silent facing each other for a moment, before the estate master suddenly spoke again: "No, I remember there is evidence."

Elijah almost failed to react: "What evidence?"

"Evidence that you harbor special feelings for Superman. I heard that the two of you have a child?" The estate master's face twisted in bewilderment. "Surely this child isn't part of Superman's collective, is she?"

Elijah instantly lost his composure: "What the hell? Where did you hear that?!"

"In a parallel universe I passed through—meaning it's true!" The estate master caught a cue from his tone, his eyes widening in shock as he asked, "Is it a boy or a girl? How old are they now? Where did you hide it??"

He began looking Elijah up and down, as if a Kryptonian toddler might pop out from under his clothes.

"Stop, stop right there, quit looking." Elijah rubbed his temples and said, "Tell me first, which parallel universe did you pass through?"

"I don't know." The estate master withdrew his gaze and answered awkwardly, "That was early in my travels. My equipment for traversing parallel universes wasn't functioning very well; I frequently received signals from other universes, and besides, I had just been beaten up by a Ba—by someone, so I initially thought the voices I heard were hallucinations caused by brain damage."

Elijah: "..."

He pretended not to hear that word starting with B, preserving a shred of dignity for the Kryptonian Batman before him: "What content did you hear?"

"A group of people arguing fiercely. Some of them believed a certain experiment was completely unworthy of investment, while another—I could tell it was Superman, Clark Kent—spoke little, but every time he spoke, it was with absolute conviction. He said he 'wanted to try, and had already done it,' so that his country and his planet might perhaps possess a 'fate' of their own."

It was strange.

Once the word 'fate' was treated as a personal pronoun, everything started to sound bizarre.

Maintaining a facade as if nothing had happened, Elijah asked, "Their experiment was, um..."

He found himself trailing off.

"Combining your DNA with Superman's DNA." The estate master chimed in dryly, "I have no idea how they pulled it off, but ordinary people apparently couldn't withstand your power, leaving Superman to take on this, this—"

He trailed off as well.

The two stared at each other in the gloom, their toes curling inside their shoes, making the floor of the massive Batcave tremble beneath their feet.

After a long while, the estate master barely managed to steady himself and asked, "Where is the child right now?"

"I was just about to tell you that," Elijah said numbly. "She should have been by my side, but vanished the exact moment she touched down in Gotham. You have an agreement with Omega; do you have any leads on this?"

Ten minutes later, they returned from the gloomy Batcave to the sunlit Wayne Manor. The fire blazed brightly in the fireplace, and the estate master leaned against the sofa, frowning: "The universe we are in is somewhat special. As you might have noticed, after the Superman of Omega Batman's world died, he became No. 117 in my records, but in reality, I also recorded a No. 118, Clark Kent—and he, too, has lingered in this world."