Marvel: Father of Superheroes

Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:

patreon.com/Draco_

******

Up until bedtime, Mike had not found an opportunity to talk with the three children.

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with them today.

Sitting at his bedroom desk, Mike went about his routine of card crafting.

Speaking of cards, aside from replenishing frequently used ones, Mike had recently focused on creating character cards.

After spending two hours, Mike had crafted a new character card. With a thought, he summoned the Eternal Cigarette Case, drew an old card from it, and inserted the new card in its place.

Out of the fifty-four cards in the Eternal Cigarette Case, nearly a third had been replaced with character cards.

Character cards took more time to craft compared to skill and item cards.

Over the years, the number of cards he had amassed had become quite substantial.

"However, I need to clear the deck and use up the lower-level cards first," he muttered to himself.

Currently, his ability level was LV3. The items and cards he created were classified as LV3.

Raising his ability level had not only expanded and enhanced his materialization range, but also significantly increased the potency of the cards he crafted.

For example, even the same skill card—such as Fire Style: Great Fireball—would have greater power when crafted at LV3 than at LV2.

As for items, the duration of their effects had also increased, lasting much longer now.

In short, the higher the ability level, the stronger and longer-lasting the cards he created would be.

Maintaining the cards' existence required a continuous drain of his materialization power.

Though each card used a small amount, over the years, the growing number of cards had accumulated. This meant that the amount of materialization power he needed to consume daily was now quite significant.

For this reason, once his ability level had reached LV3, he had started replacing cards.

He would store the higher-level cards and use the lower-level ones as much as possible.

However, when Mike glanced at the inventory in his mind, he sighed.

It was an immense task...

Turning off the desk lamp, Mike was about to stand up and go to bed when—

Whoosh! Whoosh!

A series of sharp noises echoed, and holes the size of fingertips appeared in the wall in front of Mike.

An enemy? A sniper?

Mike's eyes narrowed, and in an instant, several cards appeared in his hand. As he used a Mental Scan skill, a shield enveloped his body.

But the next second, his face twitched uncontrollably, starting from the corner of his eye. By the end, his face had become a grotesque mask, entirely out of his control.

There was no enemy...

Charles and Eric were already asleep, and Clark... was frantically pulling up his pants, looking embarrassed?

Mike stood up and stared at the small holes in the wall. After a moment of silence, he slammed his fists against the wall in frustration.

Then, sitting back down in his chair, he thought for a few minutes before finally deciding to talk to Clark.

As a father, he felt it was his responsibility to guide his child and provide basic education.

He knocked on Clark's door and, with a stiff voice, said, "Clark, I need to talk to you."

"I'm already asleep!" came Clark's flustered voice from the other side.

Mike raised an eyebrow, opened the door, and walked in. He casually opened the door to find Clark huddled under the blanket, covering his head.

Seeing Clark like this, Mike, who had been feeling a bit awkward, couldn't help but laugh.

He glanced at the holes in the wall, closed the door, and said, "Let's talk about that hole."

"I don't know," Clark replied.

Mike smiled gently and said, "You're growing up. It's completely normal for a man, and I won't hold it against you."

Clark remained silent but peeked at Mike through his eyes.

Mike cleared his throat and added, "Don't overdo it though; it's bad for your health."

"And also, practice some strength. I don't want you turning your dates into a crime scene."

With that, Mike held back a laugh and quickly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Hearing the click of the door, Clark slowly emerged from under the blanket and sighed deeply.

That had been so embarrassing, he just wanted to burn through the Earth with his heat vision.

But... crime scene?

A vivid image flashed in his mind, and with a groan, Clark hid his head under the blanket again.

It was all Charles and Eric's fault. If they hadn't played the encrypted channel this afternoon, none of this would have happened tonight!

Ahhh!

He growled, pounding the bed in frustration.

Bang!

A hole instantly appeared in the bed.

Clark froze, lying back down and adjusting his position to cover up the hole with his body.

Sleep, sleep... Once he's asleep, it won't be awkward anymore...

But in reality, the entire next day, Clark couldn't bring himself to look at Mike.

This continued for three days until the incident finally faded from his mind. Clark slowly returned to normal and was finally able to face Mike without feeling uncomfortable.

Mike, on the other hand, didn't mind at all.

After all, schools encourage parents to educate their children about such matters. And when children reach a certain age, they've already learned about it at school.

Although Clark's situation was rather unique... life went on as usual.

Ever since that day when the encrypted channel mysteriously unlocked, Eric and Charles had constantly fought over the TV signal box, trying to recreate the scene. After dozens of failed attempts, they gradually gave up.

...

At Clark's school.

With his headphones on, Clark sat on the field, watching the boys sweat it out in the game. His expression was calm, with a hint of barely perceptible longing.

"Clark! Why are you sitting here all alone?"

A bronze-skinned girl approached Clark and squatted down, looking at him curiously.

Clark took off his headphones, nodded politely at her, and said, "Beryl."

Beryl blushed slightly as she looked into Clark's blue eyes. "Aren't you going to play soccer? You look like you'd enjoy it."

Clark shook his head.

Beryl looked disappointed. She had wanted to see Clark running across the field with skill and grace.

"Whoosh!"

Just then, a boy accidentally kicked the ball too far, sending it flying toward them. Clark reached out his hand.

Thud!

The ball landed safely in his grasp.

The girl's surprised look quickly turned to delight.

In that moment, Clark seemed to be glowing in her eyes.

"Hey! The new transfer student! Stay away from that bookworm, or you might catch it!"

The boys on the field laughed loudly, their words dripping with mockery.

Beryl glared at them angrily. "You're the bookworms!"

The boys were stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. They made crude gestures toward Clark and jeered at him.

(End of Chapter)