I'm Superman's Brother, But I Got Thanos's Template

Beep beep beep!

Blinding red and blue police lights flashed, accompanied by a shrill siren. A large number of heavily armed riot police arrived at the scene in less than two minutes, just three blocks away.

"Quick, quick, guys, that guy is up there. He took down the others and is holding Mr. Glenmorgan hostage."

"He's not leaving? Is he waiting for us? Does he want to provoke the police!"

The leading police chief, along with his assault team, rushed upstairs. His face was darker than ever.

"Everyone, be careful. Mr. Metropolis is being held hostage upstairs. We have to be cautious; he could get us all fired with a single word."

Upon reaching the floor where the incident occurred, they found several gangster henchmen sprawled on the ground in disarray. Some were thrown from rooms after their doors were smashed, others landed on chandeliers, and a few were bound together by a broken window railing, looking pathetic and comical.

"Help, that guy is inside!"

One of the gangster henchmen, seeing a glimmer of hope, pointed a trembling finger towards the inner room.

The police chief's face contorted as he surveyed the scene of destruction. He waved his hand, signaling tactical maneuvers, and his men crept towards the door from both sides.

"He jumped to the twenty-ninth floor. He's faster than the wind and tosses us around like toys. He even shot lasers from his eyes!"

Seeing the police, whom they usually tried to avoid at all costs, someone started shouting in terror, clearly having lost their nerve.

"Be careful, we've encountered something unprecedented this time!"

With that, the police chief, gun in hand, charged into the room first, followed closely by his grim-faced team members armed with assault rifles, showcasing their well-trained tactical prowess.

"Don't move!"

"Drop the hostage and surrender immediately!"

"Get away from where you're standing."

Whoosh!

A cool night breeze swept into the room through the windows, lifting the curtains on either side. A young figure in a blue t-shirt stood steadily on the edge of the balcony railing of the high-rise, effortlessly lifting a terrified person with one hand by the waistband, as if lifting a feather.

"Mr. Glenmorgan?"

"Help me, quick, help me!" Looking down at the dizzying height from his car, Glenmorgan's face turned pale. From a small-time gangster to a crime boss, and then to a renowned philanthropist and Mr. Metropolis of the entire city, he had encountered countless opponents and survived numerous assassination attempts. But this time was different. This guy wasn't human at all; even bullets couldn't hurt him.

"Put him down, you lunatic!"

Everyone was stunned by the sight. The fact that someone was standing casually on the balcony railing of the twenty-ninth floor, where a single misstep would send them plummeting to their deaths, and that someone could lift a person with such ease.

"Of course, officer, I'll put him down right away." Despite not seeing them, Clark knew how many gun barrels were pointed at him, but he maintained a smile. "On the condition that he confesses to all the crimes he's committed and receives his due punishment. Shouldn't everyone be equal before the law!"

With that, he swung his arm, causing Glenmorgan's heart to nearly leap out of his throat from fright. But Glenmorgan did not confess, instead shouting hysterically.

"Quick, protect me, he's a monster!"

"Put Mr. Glenmorgan down, or we'll shoot!"

"Young man, think about your family!" The assault team members aimed their guns at him.

"Still not talking?"

Clark's expression turned stern at the ear-splitting shouts. Just a while ago, after a group of thugs rescued a female police officer, someone dared to hijack the witness police officer from the rooftop of the courthouse using a helicopter. The audacity was jaw-dropping. He had pursued the lead, and after days of surveillance, he discovered that the mastermind was none other than the well-known Metropolis philanthropist, Glenmorgan.

"You had your chance, Glenmorgan!"

Clark casually tossed him backward. Glenmorgan flew through the air like a kite with a broken string, screaming as he plunged headfirst toward the hard asphalt road dozens of meters below.

"You lunatic!" The police chief's eyes widened in disbelief that he had actually done it. Wasn't Superman known for never laying a heavy hand on any robber in the month since his appearance?

"Ah... ahh!"

The wind howled in Glenmorgan's ears, and his heart rate instantly shot up to over two hundred. He felt his soul leave his body, overcome with extreme terror.

After a rapid descent of only one or two seconds.

He saw himself about to crash onto the hard asphalt, transforming into a blossom of flesh and blood that bloomed with the sound of cracking bones.

Swish!

His face contorted in terror, he shut his eyes tightly. He was less than ten centimeters from the ground.

A strong, metallic arm grabbed his clothes.

The heavy inertia of a nearly two-hundred-pound body falling dozens of meters vanished in an instant, without even causing the arm to waver.

"How was that roller coaster ride?

Sir, if you like, I can keep it going."

Leaping to the ground below with lightning speed, Clark held him aloft with one hand like a captured chick, speaking in a calm, unhurried tone.

It was as if a ticket seller at an amusement park was suggesting the customer try their main attraction again.

"Enough, I'll talk, I'll tell you everything."

Having skirted the edge of death, Glenmorgan's lips were pale. He could barely control the urge to urinate, clutching his head and shouting madly.

Bang!

Clark threw him to the ground, forcing him to confess his crimes one by one.

"I… I was one of the biggest crime bosses in Metropolis. I personally shot dozens of people. I bribed city officials, and I deceived everyone…"

Kneeling on the ground, the once-glorious Mr. Metropolis, his hands trembling, confessed his blood-stained transgressions.

Clark nodded almost imperceptibly.

If it were his past self, he would absolutely not have acted this way. This was practically torture by intimidation.

However, he had learned some lessons from his younger brother. Arguing slowly with some people was useless.

Click, click, click!

Like sharks sensing blood, reporters outside the police cordon began snapping photos of Clark, their flashes going off incessantly.

Several cameras had already been aimed at him the moment he appeared.

"You understand the rules, Metropolis.

Treat the citizens of this city well, or I will come for you!"

With the terrified Glenmorgan in the background, Clark faced the cameras, pointing a finger, and sternly declared with a hint of anger.

Glenmorgan, who had transformed from a mob boss into a charitable tycoon and was awarded the title of Mr. Metropolis, the very model citizen for the entire city.

The corruption revealed within was chilling.

He didn't want the city where he grew up to sink into the abyss, becoming another Gotham just across the water!

With that, Clark, under the excited gazes of the citizens, straightened his dozens-of-meters-tall figure, his flowing red cape soaring as he leaped over the tall buildings, his form disappearing into the night sky.

From a helicopter not far away, an ultra-high-definition camera recorded the entire incident from beginning to end.

Surrounded by numerous cameras, Clark had assumed it was just a television crew.

In reality, it was, but that television station belonged to—Metropolis's infamous Luthor Group.

…

As it approached seven or eight o'clock, Clark returned home from Metropolis. Before he even entered, as his hand touched the doorknob, he heard a familiar, strong heartbeat, and his eyes lit up.

"David, you're finally willing to come back."

Opening the door, Clark greeted his brother, who had returned from a month-long trip, feigning indifference.

David, who had been chatting with his parents about his travels to an island paradise, turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

"It seems you've adapted well to your life as a reporter's assistant?"

Clark, dressed in a suit, looked more mature after a month apart. His handsome face, combined with his glasses, gave him an air of intriguing mystery.

Just as the two were about to say something.

"I've been waiting for you, Clark.

Let's wash our hands and eat."

The table was already laden with food. Jonathan, with a drunken-like flush of happiness on his face, put an arm around each of his sons, looking at them with a mixture of nostalgia and excitement.

Martha, with a gentle smile, placed bowls and cutlery while watching her husband and two sons.

When the family was always together, she hadn't thought much of it.

Now, with her elder son out in the world and her younger son traveling, the house felt empty, making the couple a little uncomfortable.

However, she realized this was inevitable. Both sons would eventually enter society and have their own careers, which brought a touch of melancholy and a greater desire to cherish their current life.

Although he had stayed in touch via phone during his month away, it couldn't alleviate the longing of not being able to see his family.

David proposed leaving for a few days, asking Diana to oversee her tribe's dance practice.

Diana seemed to believe that since David had completed the impossible challenge, she should follow her promise and crown him king with all due respect, without any compromise. Otherwise, she wouldn't be treating him as the Amazon king at all.

She had been executing David's commands perfectly, from dance practice to practicing the harp.

"Looking at the refresh rate of the emotional points since leaving Themyscira, it seems Diana hasn't been playing favorites much?"

After a warm dinner with his parents, experiencing a comfort and coziness he hadn't felt in a long time, David stood on the second floor of the attic, gazing at the night sky, thinking to himself.

As the princess of the Amazon tribe, Diana commanded considerable authority among her people.

Creak.

The old wooden stairs groaned as Clark came up, just like any ordinary person.

"The astronomical telescope is gone from here."

David turned back.

Where he was standing, Clark's astronomical telescope used to be, allowing him to secretly watch Lana.

"Lana is gone, and I've ended up in this situation,"

Clark shook his head.

That telescope had lost its meaning for him.

"Your eyes still aren't better?"

David frowned slightly.

A month had passed. If Clark, with his Kryptonian physiology, had been exposed to sunlight daily, his blindness should have healed long ago.

"It's not simple eye damage.

Could it be a curse? Or magic?"

"There's no sign of improvement. It might be like this forever."

Clark fell silent for a moment.

David, who was thinking about whether he knew any way to solve this problem, raised his eyebrows. He detected a complete lack of urgency in Clark's tone.

"Did you do what I told you and open your eyes to the sun from time to time?"

His voice was filled with suspicion.

"..."

Clark's expression turned a little unnatural. Blind, he slightly turned his head away from his brother, looking towards the night sky as if he could see something.

For an ordinary person, losing sight and being plunged into darkness would be an incredibly painful experience. However, for Clark, the trouble it caused wasn't that significant.

But David felt there was another reason why Clark wasn't taking this matter too seriously.

That reason was guilt.

The Wishing Stone typically claimed one's most cherished possessions as its price. Clark must have been consumed by guilt and fear during this period, realizing that his casual wish could have brought immense disaster upon their family.

He guessed correctly.

The darkness of his blindness was a form of punishment, which paradoxically brought Clark a slight sense of relief, lessening his guilt. At the same time, it served as a constant reminder to think thrice before acting.

Even though that incident wasn't his fault.

"People need to look forward. Not being tormented by the past is the meaning of life,"

David said slowly.

"Don't think that just because your body is strong, stronger than steel, losing your sight is no big deal. You're walking on the edge of danger right now."

"David... did you see my news?"

Clark heard the implied meaning in his brother's words.

"No, I smelled the gunpowder on you.

You were shot by several people not long ago. The bullets were enough to kill an Asian elephant."

David stood by the railing, hands in his pockets, and glanced at him.

He had rushed home and seen his beloved parents, but he hadn't had the time to catch up on the news from Metropolis.

Becoming Superman, the Tomorrow Man, was Clark's destined path; it wasn't difficult to guess.

"You're always so perceptive."

Clark sniffed himself. Even after changing his clothes, a faint scent remained.

He thought his hidden identity was flawless, but now many people in the city saw him as a hero, and he, as the elder brother, had been outdone by his younger sibling. He shook his head with a hint of annoyance.

However, Clark wasn't overly concerned about the issue David raised.

"Though I don't want to bring it up, the Meteorite, which was my weakness, is no longer in this world. The guns and cannons of those evildoers can't harm me."

"Your weakness is gone?

That's not necessarily true."

David shook his head.

This is precisely why he wanted to remind Clark not to be reckless with his steel body, and to maintain his vigilance.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Clark was stunned.

...

Luthor Tower.

In the top-floor office, Luthor, sporting a bald head, clasped his hands in front of him. Half his face was hidden in the shadows cast by the moonlight as he repeatedly reviewed the ultra-high-speed footage before him, footage that wouldn't drop a single frame even if slowed down a thousand times. His eyes flickered.

Not long ago, he had suddenly woken up in his manor to find that he had lost a period of his memory and that the Wishing Stone was missing.

It seemed he had already made a wish and gained a mind with powerful scientific research talent.

And on that very evening, Luthor received dire news: his shrewd and capable father, the helmsman of the Luthor Group and a man who struck fear into the hearts of countless business rivals, Lionel Luthor, had died in a car accident on his way home.

When he rushed to the hospital, his father was already beyond saving. He hadn't even managed to see him one last time, only a cold corpse covered by a white sheet.

"Is this the price for my wish?"

Behind his desk, Luthor, who had lost his father—a man always too busy with business to pay him any attention—now controlled a multinational business conglomerate. His expression was complex and grim, a hint of darkness in his eyes.

Everyone should have seen today's single-chapter announcement.

Last night, I didn't expect the other party to still be awake at midnight and post another attack on me. To prove my innocence, I was entangled with that author all morning, and the matter only concluded near afternoon, which caused a delay. However, there are still four thousand words today.

I currently owe one update, which will be delivered tomorrow. My apologies.

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