What's wrong with Superman's son wanting to be Superman?

Page 357

"You're in hell." The little devil grinned maliciously, casually tossing the pistol aside. It's unclear why it had been cleaning the pistol, since it looked completely useless.

"This is the end of the lives of all capitalists, and you will be punished here for eternity." The little devil licked his lips, as if he really enjoyed watching others panic.

Thomas's pupils contracted slightly.

"impossible……"

He muttered to himself, his voice filled with despair and an unwillingness to believe the truth, "I still have children, a wife, and a city to take care of..." Thomas paused slightly, then, as if realizing something, a look of panic appeared on his face.

Am I really dead?

Thomas Wayne started anxiously spinning in circles.

"But my son is still so young!"

His tone was very worried.

"Heh—" The brat let out a piercing laugh, flung out a black metal bracelet, and roughly fastened it around Thomas's neck, causing Thomas Wayne's face to flush red instantly.

There were bruises on his neck from being tightly strangled.

"Wear this, and everything in this world will be irrelevant to you."

The little devil grinned and mocked Thomas Wayne, "You're no longer some earthly tycoon; you're just a sinful soul who could trample a whole bunch of people to death if you just took a couple of steps in hell."

The kid's words.

Thomas Wayne was forced to kneel on the ground, unwilling to accept it. The shackles around his neck looked cold and heavy, as if they were constantly draining his will.

"Now, follow me."

The hellish imp dragged it away viciously.

Thomas Wayne was dragged along, the chains tightening around him, making it hard to breathe. He tried to break free, but the chains seemed to be bound to his soul, each struggle feeling like a tearing apart of his own life.

All these subtle psychological states can be seen on Thomas Wayne's face. His expressions are truly rich, like that of the world's best master of facial expression management.

"Where are you taking me?"

Thomas asked through gritted teeth, his throat aching from being constricted.

"Your soul has been sold to the most evil, terrifying, and ruthless Lord Sangu Demon by a mysterious person who is supreme, infinitely great, and possesses ninety thousand layers of light, but who has not yet thought of anyone in hell who has a grudge against him. Lord Sangu Demon wants you to participate in his reincarnation game."

“He wants to extract energy from your suffering.” With that, the hellish imp led Thomas toward a massive volcano surrounded by many “battery”-like crystals.

It contains countless tormented souls.

Their souls are being drained.

Then, it was transported through pipes to the distant city "brightened by soul fire." Huge pools of lava churned, waves of heat washing over you, yet carrying an eerie liveliness.

On the road to the volcano.

Countless souls were dragged forward; some screamed, some begged for mercy, and some were numb, led by chains like walking corpses.

"The air is thick with the smell of sulfur and despair," the Hell Imp explained to itself, looking around. Thomas Wayne also glanced around at his fellow and non-fellow citizens.

Countless little devils, carrying countless pitiful souls, were heading towards the crater. Each of these hellish little devils had a ferocious expression on its face, and even those little devils without faces had the word "ferocious" etched on their faces.

It includes all eighteen mainstream writing systems.

Is this a true display of grotesque ferocity, or merely the grotesqueness of different countries? They laugh maniacally as they brandish whips and candles, relentlessly lashing and torturing one soul after another with wax.

"Hurry up! Not having legs is no excuse! Even a cripple has to move faster!"

"You are all dead, you have all become ghosts, you have all come to hell. Don't even think about cheating or trying to get away with it, because the tricks you're playing are things we've already done before!"

"Your Highness? Your King? Your father is an African chieftain who can conjure up an army of 100,000 to avenge you with a single command? Laughable! The powerful and wealthy of this world are nothing in our hell!"

The little devils furiously reprimanded the unruly souls, especially the one who boasted that his father was an African chief. The soul, tormented by whips and candles, became much thinner.

The wailing continued.

"hurry up!"

The hellish imps escorting Thomas Wayne were also whipping him, and the old Gotham king looked utterly miserable, crawling frantically on the ground trying to escape the lashes.

He ultimately had no choice but to give in and move forward with the long queue. Countless souls formed long lines and, upon reaching the crater, were forged into those battery-like crystals.

These ghosts had different identities and personalities in life. Some shook their heads and sighed, while others wailed and cried. However, there were still some stubborn people who were bewildered and confused.

"My father is Darkseid! Even though I'm a bastard, how dare you hit me?"

"Don't fight! Don't fight!"

"Hey~"

……

When these second-generation ghosts first entered Hell, many of them thought they could return to the human world. As soon as they were whipped by the little devils, they would immediately become angry, shout, and make threats.

but.

A major treatment.

These second-generation ghosts quickly realized their predicament. They were awakened by the beating and knew that they were dead. No matter how glorious they were in life, they had now become commodities.

soon.

Thomas Wayne was also taken to the crater, where lava surged and churned, as if countless faces were breaking open, and one soul after another was forged into batteries of pain within it.

"What are those?"

Thomas Wayne watched as the souls were continuously pulled up and added to the "Battery Mountain" next to him. He trembled, and soon collapsed to the ground as if having an epileptic seizure.

"Playing the fool won't work."

The little devil from hell chuckled as he spoke.

“If you don’t stun my ass, I don’t think I’ll pretend to be crazy.” Thomas Wayne fell to the ground, but he still tried his best to maintain his composure.

“Sorry, that’s not actually a stun gun.” Hell’s Imp said hesitantly, which made Thomas Wayne’s expression change drastically and gave him a chilling response.

However, before Thomas Wayne could ask a question, Hell's Imp kicked him.

very light.

I feel very nervous.

However, Thomas Wayne was still thrown by a great force, spinning more than 5,000 times in the air before finally falling into the volcanic lava.

"Welcome to 'Hell Paradise,' where you will begin your first round of the game." The words had barely left his lips when Thomas's face was engulfed in lava.

His outstretched hand was quickly swallowed up as well.

"I thought I was going to die, but I didn't." A voice, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, rang out, recounting the fact that Thomas had fallen into a bizarre space called "Hell Paradise."

This is a place of endless loops, supposedly created by the Demon King Sangu himself. Every soul that enters it will experience various strange rules, death games, and psychological torment until it breaks down.

"Hellish Paradise, a game of reincarnation, this is the stage where gods and demons toy with all living beings!" Thomas suddenly opened his eyes and found himself standing in the top-floor office of Wayne Tower.

Outside the window is the Gotham City skyline, ablaze with lights.

"Is this... an illusion?"

Welcome to the Tales of Rules.

A cold voice echoed in his mind.

Rule 1: You must complete today's board meeting.

Rule 2: All directors are devils, but they won't admit it.

[Rule 3: If someone offers you coffee, you must drink it.]

Rule 4: Don't look in the mirror.

Thomas took a deep breath and pushed open the office door.

In the boardroom, twelve people in suits turned to look at him in unison. Their smiles were perfectly synchronized, and their eyes gleamed with a red light.

"Thomas, we've been waiting for you for a long time."

One of the directors stood up and handed Thomas a steaming cup of coffee. Thomas stared at the cup; it didn't contain coffee—but wriggling maggots and blood.

But he had to drink.

He took the cup and drank it all in one gulp.

His throat felt like it was being burned by sulfuric acid, and his stomach was churning. But he remained expressionless, merely wiping the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, let's begin the meeting."

The meeting lasted for "ten hours".

During those ten hours, the numbers on the financial statements would writhe and crawl like living creatures, and the directors' faces would occasionally peel off, revealing the rotting flesh beneath.

Whenever Thomas looked at his reflection in the glass window, he would see a charred version of himself staring intently at him, but he knew he couldn't show fear.

Because rule 5 is hidden under the table.

[If you scream, the game is over.] But "game over" here means that the real torture has just begun, and no reincarnator dares to challenge it.

game over.

This means being dismembered while fully conscious and then used to assemble a sex doll, where each part of the body is violated and simultaneously felt by different demons—a terrifying experience.

Thomas knew he couldn't gamble. His inner monologue kept replaying in his mind, eventually settling on "Fortunately, I've seen enough dangerous situations to be able to tolerate this monologue."

at last.

The meeting is "over".

Thomas stood up and walked towards the elevator.

The instant the elevator doors closed.

"Welcome back to Hell, sir."

The elevator plummeted, crashing into the next round of the game. In yet another loop, Thomas found himself sitting on a speeding train, the carriages filled with special "passengers."

It was all him.

Young Thomas, middle-aged Thomas, Thomas on his deathbed... countless "Thomas" turned their heads in unison, staring at him with empty eyes.

[Rule for this round: Find the "one true" version of yourself, or the train will keep going forever.]

Thomas calmly observed each of his "selves".