No Result

Batman's fingertips tapped lightly on the console, breaking the silence within the Batcave.

His brow furrowed slightly, his gaze filled with scrutiny and doubt.

"Never appeared in any known database of alien civilizations."

As the words fell, he pressed a key on the console, and the display switched to a massive database interface.

It listed thousands of known alien civilizations across the universe, arranged from highest to lowest threat level, each with detailed records including racial traits, technological level, social structure, and whether they were aggressive.

He entered the keyword "Viltrumite" into the search, even including all possible approximate or similar homophones.

But the screen consistently showed no matching results.

Batman didn't give up.

No record didn't mean nonexistence; instead, it might indicate that this civilization was extremely mysterious or came from some unknown region of the universe.

He pulled up the data on known dangerous civilizations in the universe, comparing them one by one.

From a certain alien planet that glorified slaughter to interstellar pirate gangs that lived by plundering resources, he carefully reviewed every dangerous civilization's file.

"Not even anything similar."

Batman's brow was knotted like steel.

Shane's description of "bloodthirsty and warlike" and "taking pride in conquest," along with the words of the figure who had flown in the sky three days ago when delivering Shane to him—

"This kid's really tough. Honestly, when I was about his age, I don't think I had a body this strong."

—all instantly made Batman classify them as a potential high-threat target.

A race that had carved killing and conquest into the very genes of its civilization—any individual appearing near Earth could bring a potential catastrophe to the planet.

What's more, if even a single "teenage rebel" possessed such formidable physicality, then the regular warriors of Viltrum would likely be even more terrifying in strength.

Batman's expression grew increasingly grave as he began constructing a combat model of the Viltrumites in his mind, analyzing the threat they might pose to Earth.

But unfortunately, over the past three days, the one who had delivered Shane had kept a close watch on him the entire time.

Unlike that naive blue giant in Metropolis, the figure in the black battle robe hadn't given Batman a single opportunity to obtain more physiological samples from the boy.

He'd only managed to get one drop of blood.

At that moment, that drop of blood was in a roaring analyzer deep in the lower levels of the Batcave.

But due to the extreme scarcity of the sample, many tests couldn't be conducted freely. Understanding the boy's true nature would likely take a long time.

"A rebel who fled his home planet?"

Batman's eyes were full of scrutiny.

"Vocal fluctuations match characteristics of tension and fear. Heart rate data is basically normal. Breathing frequency shows no obvious anomalies, but trained disguise can't be ruled out."

His gaze fell on the window displaying Shane's physiological data, carefully analyzing every change in the numbers.

When Shane described the cruelty of Viltrum, his heart rate did rise slightly, and his breathing became a bit quicker—these physiological reactions fit a normal person recalling a traumatic experience.

But Batman didn't dare let his guard down. He had seen too many enemies skilled in deception. Some agents, after special training, could perfectly control their physiological responses, leaving no visible cracks.

This boy named Shane, having grown up in a harsh environment, must have undergone rigorous training as well.

Were these reactions genuine emotional outpourings, or carefully crafted camouflage?

Batman couldn't be sure, nor would he easily draw conclusions.

In his view, any individual from an unknown alien civilization warranted the highest level of vigilance, even if they appeared to be just a severely injured teenager.

He didn't trust Shane's words.

And he had already prepared for the worst.

What if this boy was a spy sent by Viltrum, paving the way for a future invasion?

What if all his claims were false, his so-called "escape" just a cover, and his real purpose was to lie low on Earth?

All these possibilities existed and needed to be verified one by one.

Batman never believed anyone's one-sided story; he only believed in evidence.

"Activate Level Two monitoring protocol. Keep a close watch on the target's movements."

Batman issued the command to the console.

"Also, contact Green Lantern. Have him check the Oa database to see if a civilization called 'Viltrum' exists in the universe."

The console emitted a soft beep, indicating the command had been successfully executed.

The monitoring program activated, and countless micro-devices hidden around the manor began operating on all fronts.

The communication signal to the Green Lantern Corps had also been sent, awaiting a response.

A moment later, a slightly flippant voice requested a call with Batman.

"Knock knock? Bat at home?"

Batman leaned back slightly, quietly listening to the faint roar in his earpiece.

Then he asked, his tone utterly flat.

"Sounds like things are lively on your end?"

"Yeah, buddy, yeah."

Hal's voice came through with a few short, quick breaths.

"You know how it is—space cops chasing space crooks, just another day. But this guy's a slippery one, real fast!"

Batman's face darkened. He waited until Hal stopped rambling before cutting in with a question.

"What about the intel I asked you to dig up?"

"Ah, you're always in such a hurry. When you're on a date with a girl, do you—"

Batman let out a heavy, cold snort, and Hal quickly shut up, reining himself in.

"No, Bats, nothing."

"What?"

Batman's expression grew even more serious.

"I said nothing. No Viltrum, that planet doesn't exist. Nothing in Oa's database, not in the last thousand years, and who knows about the next thousand."

Batman couldn't help but sit up straight. He tapped a finger, switching the screen back to the surveillance feed of Shane lowering his head to sip soup.

He stared hard at the young man, then pressed Hal again for confirmation.

"You sure you actually checked thoroughly?"

Another burst of dense explosions came from Hal's end, followed by a scream from Hal, then the heavy thud of him being slammed into the ground.

After a long pause, Hal's voice came through again, sounding a bit worn out.

"Buddy, you think Oa's supercomputer is some cheap Earth-made junk?"

Bam!

Hal seemed to punch something, barking out an order to behave.

"The second I got your comm signal, I sent the query for Viltrum back to Oa's central data hub. Oa's integrated intelligence only needs three seconds to scan all records from the past to the present. Conclusion: no Viltrum exists."

Batman fell silent.

Hal called out a few times on his end, got no response, and sighed in exasperation.

"Come on, think it through yourself. Even if Oa doesn't have all the knowledge in our universe, a planet known for a warlike, bloodthirsty civilization would have to interact with others—through war!"

"But we still can't find a single trace of Viltrum's past. Either your source is fake, or I need to request a League psych eval for you. Did the Joker pull one over on you?"