The Batman Who Laughs dropped equipment.
The metal box looked incredibly sinister; its mere presence caused ripples to appear around the Golden Superman's protective barrier, as if he had encountered a natural enemy.
"You're asking me to use something from Outer Universe to fight against Outer Universe? Are you sure this won't cause even bigger problems?" Golden Superman turned to look at the will in the shadows.
The Batman Who Laughs continued.
The distorted, shadowy face remained silent.
The silent, maniacal the Batman Who Laughs grew even more unrestrained, with more dark tentacles wrapping around the metal box, pushing it forward a few more steps, almost touching the chest of the Golden Superman.
The laughter grew louder and louder, almost tearing his reason apart. Golden Superman closed his eyes, cold sweat beading on his forehead— Kryptonian shouldn't sweat, but this sweat was purely the product of mental stress.
At the same time, an even larger and more filthy dark energy began to press in on Golden Superman from all directions, and the volume of his frantic Whisper increased sharply.
It was as if billions of vengeful spirits were screaming in his mind, pressuring him, tempting him.
"What exactly is this?"
Golden Superman's heart began to waver silently once again.
He knew he only had two choices.
Either cling to that potentially tainted "perfection," gradually being assimilated and devoured by this shadow under the pressure from both inside and outside, or open the box, embrace this all-powerful force from "outside," and confront that Superman from our universe who wields the All-Black the Necrosword and is also behaving very "strangely."
"..."
All Superman is prone to indecisiveness.
Just like all Flash, he likes to be a step behind.
"Whatever it is, it's far too evil." Golden Superman Carl -El's gaze, like the most precise scanner, had already pierced through the conceptual metal barrier and clearly seen the contents of the box.
That's normal.
Golden Superman is a mid-to-high-level Superman in the DC Universe.
Although he hasn't reached the level of a flagship Superman or a super-flagship Superman, and can't name his organs things like "Jesus' Heart" or "Kunpeng Sixteen-Cylinder Composite Kidney," he is still ultimately Superman of the idealistic level, with super vision easily seeing through a metal box.
Of course, "seeing clearly" and "understanding" are two different things. The form of that thing and the enormous, ancient, dark, and even terrifying aura he sensed formed an absurd contrast. This sense of contradiction caused his brilliant idealistic core to fluctuate violently, as if a precision instrument had been injected with the wrong thing.
That would tarnish the sun in his heart, and Golden Superman was certain of that.
That's why.
He was genuinely resistant, hovering in place, his bright gaze shifting back and forth between the ominous metal box and the endless, malevolent darkness surrounding him.
Golden Superman knew that the darkness was caused by that thing, and that if he touched that thing, the sun in his heart might be turned into a black sun.
Hesitation, like cold cosmic dust, permeated his heart. Using this power of unknown origin and essence ran counter to his pursuit of absolute purity and idealistic "justice."
This in itself is a form of depravity, a betrayal of one's own beliefs.
"I can't do that. Just because the Superman of this universe has fallen doesn't mean I should fight against fall with fall." Just as Golden Superman hesitated but was beginning to prepare to give up.
The face that emerged from the shadows moved its lips a few times.
The mad babbling began to appear in my ears, and the silent the Batman Who Laughs emanating from the twisted shadow suddenly changed, transforming into a more eerie and penetrating whisper.
Shadows rolled and whispers screech. It was no longer just noise, but a persuasive chain of seductive logic that directly attacked the weakest point of the Golden Superman's will.
No one knew what the voice said except for Golden Superman himself; the whispered the Batman Who Laughs was like venom, seeping into every crevice of his mind.
Then came a long pause, as if time itself had frozen. Finally, the brilliant but no longer absolutely pure light in Golden Superman's eyes suddenly fixed.
Sure enough, Batman knows how to seduce Superman.
The DC Universe has always been this way.
He slowly and heavily extended his hand, which had once shone with endless brilliance, and placed it on the cold lid of the box, which was constantly twisting geometric patterns.
"For... ultimate order and redemption."
Golden Superman seemed to be trying to convince himself, his voice extremely hoarse.
The lid slid open silently. There was no expected burst of energy, no strange phenomena, only a more solid and unsettling sense of "abnormality" spreading out.
The reflection in the Golden Superman's pupils reveals that the box is lined with soft, dark velvet that absorbs all light. And on that velvet lies something quietly.
Something very special.
A device that Golden Superman couldn't understand.
It's like a toy.
At least at first glance, it looks exactly like a cheap plastic toy from some children's program. The entire device is no bigger than a mobile phone, and its entire body is an ominous, matte black that seems to absorb souls. Its design is simple and even somewhat rustic, with a dark red oval crystal in the center that looks like a drop of congealed blood.
It emitted no powerful energy fluctuations, remaining as still as an inanimate object, creating an extreme and chilling contrast with its ancient, dark, and terrifying outer shell.
"Whoosh whoosh whoosh~"
Golden Superman's breathing quickened and then paused slightly. His indestructible hand, capable of holding up stars, hovered above the toy, trembling slightly as he hesitated to bring it down.
There was nothing he could do; his super vision, super perception, and even his supernatural powers were all giving him frantic warnings, telling him that this thing was far more harmful than it appeared.
It is a silent, highly concentrated "darkness" belonging to another cosmic system, an "evil" concept that is completely different from any power he knows.
Perhaps only the Batman Who Laughs knows why it appeared here, and why it was simply stuffed into this box and delivered to Golden Superman like an ordinary package.
His whispers echoed in Golden Superman's ears once more.
It remains undetectable, unheard by a sixth ear.
In any case, talk therapy was remarkably effective on Golden Superman.
"I see."
The Golden Superman's hovering fingers finally curled slightly, and his eyes became incredibly complex, filled with fear and resistance, but ultimately, they were all covered by a twisted "determination" of desperation.
In order to defeat that "abnormal" Superman, and for the future and fate of the entire Multiverse, he knew he might have to grasp this toy-like darkness from another universe.
It's just sacrificing myself.
The necessary sacrifices are worthwhile.
"I know you're using me, but... I have my own plans too." The Golden Superman's fingertips finally touched that cold, silent thing.
And it was at the very moment of contact.
"Buzz!!!"
A tremor, indescribable in sound, as if the absolute silence of the beginning of the universe had been forcibly torn apart, suddenly erupted from that toy-like object!
It wasn't deafening, but a deathly roar that struck the deepest recesses of the soul!
A deep, viscous, liquid-like dark light, as if breaking free from a cage that had lasted for millions of years, burst forth wildly from the dark red crystal!
It wasn't a force that Destruction everything, but a "living" darkness, surging and rolling like a viscous tide, instantly engulfing Golden Superman with fragments of whispers and illusions.
His golden radiance struggled violently in the darkness, but Golden Superman deliberately extinguished his light, and then the gold was completely enveloped and submerged in the blink of an eye, like a candle flickering in the wind.
Endless radiance is the best nourishment for this power.
"It seems this transformation is one of no return." Golden Superman froze on the spot, his eyes suddenly losing focus, yet countless images were reflected deep within his pupils.
He stood in Wheat Field in Kansas, Jonathan and Martha smiling and waving at him; he was in the Daily Planet office, his own Lois turning to smile at him; he stood shoulder to shoulder with his Justice League comrades, unquestioned and fearless... That was the "ordinary life" he could never reclaim.
Darkness is possessing Golden Superman.
We must transform him into another kind of life.
If a truly discerning person were here, witnessing this scene and seeing the toy taken out of the metal box, they would surely be able to recognize what the Batman Who Laughs had given away.
actually.
That's not a toy at all.
It is the Dark Spark Lens.
It is the core of the power of the ancient dark giants.
It is the ultimate darkness that can turn all light into deathly silence.
The Solar System.
On the planet most suitable for the propagation of life.
Clark Kent, carrying his lively "surprise" in one hand and a parallel universe counterpart resembling a "pregnant man" in the other, streaked through Earth's atmosphere like a meteor.
He habitually glanced in the direction of the Metropolis first—thankfully, although some building windows were shattered, the city's overall structure remained intact, and it had not become the main battlefield once again.
Clark knew it would be immoral to let his guard down at this point, but his body clearly had its own ideas, so he let out a slight sigh of relief, then adjusted his direction and plunged down toward New York, which had been reduced to ruins.
Smoke and dust filled the air; the once bustling streets were now littered with rubble, twisted metal, and the remains of houses, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and a faint stench of blood.
However, what is most shocking is not the city's trauma, but the countless " Batman " figures scattered everywhere...
At least a dozen corpses, dressed in different styles but undoubtedly all in Batsuit, lay scattered across the ruins in various gruesome ways. Some had their necks snapped by immense force, with a horrific penetrating wound on their chests; some were charred black, as if carbonized by extremely high voltage; and others looked as if they had been torn into pieces by the most primal force.
Among these.
It contains some Batman clones.
However, the most common clones are those created by Batman himself.
Clark found it hard to comment on the scene. Before he could say anything, Ian struggled like an eel for a few moments before breaking free from his grasp.
The boy pounced on the nearest " Batman " corpse with lightning speed.
" Uncle Bruce! You died a terrible death!!!"
He howled with heartfelt emotion, throwing himself onto a corpse with a large hole in its chest, even squeezing out two tears. But the next second, he immediately darted to another torn corpse.
"Oh no! Uncle Bruce died even more tragically! A genius killed young!" His voice was even more mournful, and anyone who didn't know better would think he was a child raised by Bruce from a young age.
Ian's dramatic flair was not without reason. While wailing, he skillfully and swiftly stuffed several relatively "intact" Batman corpses into his seemingly bottomless Dimensional Pocket. At the other end of the pocket was Extra Dimension that only Ian himself could access.
His movements were so fast that they were just afterimages.
Superman, who knew his son Ian well and was certain that Ian had some ulterior motive for secretly hiding the body, didn't accuse him; he just twitched his lips slightly.
His gaze swept past the bizarre scene of the "corpse collection" and landed in the center of the ruins, where he looked at the still-living Batman, Bruce Wayne, in his wheelchair not far away.
Without a doubt.
The Wheelchair Hero survived to the end was Bruce Wayne's true form. He was putting a person wearing a black bodysuit into a device that emitted a ghostly blue energy field, resembling some kind of special cage. Batman's movements were somewhat sluggish, and he was still using psychic powers to assist in the imprisonment.
His armor was damaged in many places, and his exposed jawline was taut, clearly indicating that he had also been through a fierce battle.
Upon seeing Bruce's actions and the Batman corpses scattered on the ground, Clark gently placed the still vacant and lifeless Injustice Superman on a relatively intact broken wall.
"You're attempting to cross a line, Bruce." He strode over, his steps heavy, his voice low, carrying disapproval and a hint of barely perceptible worry.
Creating and consuming clones in this way goes far beyond some of the bottom lines Bruce himself set.
Batman did not turn back.
The final safety measure of locking the cage was carefully applied, and the instruments on the wheelchair emitted a soft hum.
"This at least reduced a lot of... unnecessary 'real' casualties." His voice, coming through his mask, carried the weariness of fierce fighting and his usual coldness.
The air fell silent instantly.
Only Ian was making a fuss about registering and numbering each Batman corpse.
And there was the mournful sound of the wind blowing through the ruins.
Just then, footsteps approached. Wonder Woman Diana, supporting the badly injured Aquaman Arthur and his wife Mera, struggled to emerge from behind another pile of ruins.
She carefully placed the Aquaman and his wife on a huge concrete block, then straightened up and looked at Clark.
"I think Bruce is right, Clark. You probably don't know how powerful, how... insane, this enemy is." Wonder Woman Diana's beautiful face was bruised and scraped. As she spoke, her gaze turned to the figure who had just been locked in the cage, her eyes filled with apprehension.
This guy calls himself Tes-Adam.
Wonder Woman explained the situation to Superman, her tone grave, "Declaring that we must kneel and welcome his return as emperor, and accept his so-called 'just' rule."
These remarks sounded somewhat familiar to Ian.
Since every time I saw the Aquaman couple, they looked like they were about to die, Ian, who was suggesting that the Aquaman couple buy more accident insurance, immediately raised his eyebrows.
"I know, I know, desert black chicken, Black Adam."
Writers love to show off their knowledge, Ian was no exception. However, his words made Wonder Woman and Aquaman and his wife exchange a glance.
"Why does your son speak through his belly? Has he obtained the power of Xingtian, God of War from the East?" In the end, Mera, the Mera, who didn't know much about Ian, couldn't help but ask.
"..."
A few dark lines appeared on Clark's forehead.
"You can peel off the tape over your mouth now."
He knew that Ian wouldn't bother his family when he had other people to bother.
Upon hearing this...
As a good son, Ian also followed his father's divine decree.
"No, my head is my true form; I can't be Xingtian. Anyway, this guy was indeed an emperor in history—by the way, did this old relic promise to appoint you as great generals?"
Ian couldn't help but ask a question aloud.
Inside the cage, the unconscious Black Adam seemed to be provoked by the address, suddenly letting out a low roar like a wounded beast. A wisp of residual Black Flash burst forth from his body, slamming into the dark blue force field and creating ripples, but he couldn't break free. He glared fiercely in Ian's direction.
However, the shackles of power left him only with powerless roars.
" Black Adam... an ancient Ozymandias..." Superman pondered, having already gleaned some information from the other's mind. His gaze swept over the body in the cage, which exuded ancient power and a violent aura.
"You actually... defeated him?" Clark's surprise was genuine; he could clearly feel the vast and unfathomable divine Divine Power emanating from the other party.
Upon hearing this, Batman in his wheelchair remained silent, but turned the wheelchair around and began checking the force field generator readings from when Black Adam was provoked by Ian.
The Justice League veteran did not speak.
But Wonder Woman, one of the original creators, was somewhat unhappy.
Women, you know.
Always a bit more sensitive.
Especially those few days each month.
"Do you really think that if the Earth were to leave you Clark Kent, for even a few seconds, our Justice League would be wiped out? We're warriors too, Clark!"
She straightened her back, and despite her injuries, raised her chin, her tone clearly showing displeasure.
On the other side, Aquaman, who had just pressed his fingerprint on Ian's illegible "insurance contract," grimaced and clutched his wound, agreeing, "That's right, Clark! We're not just your personal cheerleaders! We're strong too! Ouch... it's just that this guy's fists are a bit hard..."
He accidentally aggravated his wound and gasped.
Clark was speechless, realizing his words might have been misunderstood, and quickly waved his hand. "No, that's not what I meant. I just... Bruce's call was so urgent, I thought..."
He paused, his Super Brain telling him that he might make things worse by explaining, so he wisely decided to change the subject, walked over to Batman's wheelchair, and looked thoughtfully at Black Adam in the cage.
"I sense his power... is somewhat similar to Shazam," Superman sensed carefully, "But stronger, more... ancient, and more violent than the Billy we know."
Upon hearing this...
Without looking up, Batman tapped the energy pillar in the cage with his gloved fingers, producing a crisp sound.
"Do you think I just handcrafted this specially made cage on the spot?" His voice was calm and even, as if stating something that a Superman shouldn't doubt.
It's obvious.
This thing was originally intended for Shazam, but with slight modifications, it ended up being used on Black Adam. Batman once again proved that his foresight wasn't just a sign of mental illness.
"..."
Clark was somewhat speechless.
Well, he should have thought of that. Batman has prepared countless contingency plans for dealing with his own teammates, so it's perfectly reasonable for him to have one or two thousand cages specifically for holding Shazam.
That's practically basic stuff.
Clark chuckled awkwardly at Batman's overly frank "foresight," but quickly suppressed his laughter and his expression turned serious again.
"However, there is something far darker within him than the divine Divine Power Shazam should possess." Superman's gaze pierced through the cage, as if he saw something much deeper.
As soon as he finished speaking, Black Adam in the cage seemed to sense something, and suddenly raised his head, a pure, inhuman crimson glint flashing in his eyes.
"You can defeat me, but you can't defeat my nightmares... Believe me, the nightmares will take you away." Black Adam whispered, as if it were a curse or an explanation of a truth he firmly believed in.
The force field of the entire cage flickered erratically for a moment.
It emits an overload beeping sound.
Batman's hands, which were operating the instruments, froze instantly, and his gaze beneath the mask sharpened abruptly.
"Yes, that's what I meant by encountering a situation that requires your return; more precisely, it requires you to bring back an expert in this area."
As Batman uttered those cold but informative words, his finger, clad in tattered armor, pointed precisely at a figure lurking in the corner of the ruins.
Clark showed no surprise or intention to object; he simply stepped aside silently, avoiding eye contact. He knew better than anyone that when it came to matters concerning this completely illogical Outer Universe, his eccentric and unpredictable son was perhaps the true "authority."
"What?"
Ian was startled when he was called out on the spot, and he almost dropped the slightly vibrating Black Box in his hand into his Barry. It's not surprising that he panicked so suddenly.
The main point is that when Batman called his name, he was intently tapping rapidly on the Black Box with Mimicry finger that made it impossible to discern where he was tapping the screen.
This is obviously a message being sent to someone.
Ian and his die-hard Gotham fanboy, whose ID is "[ I Am Really Not a Rich Second Generation ]", are enthusiastically discussing how to use the "raw materials" on the ground to hold an "official, luxurious, limited edition funeral" for Batman —it's like a comedian finding a descendant of a famous comedian family to worship.
Ian has reached a preliminary agreement with his little fanboy on a 50/50 profit split.
"Uh... well, I was listening, I've been listening the whole time." Under Batman's icy gaze, Ian quickly composed himself.
He calmly slipped the Black Box back into his Dimensional Pocket, then casually dusted off his hands—not really dust—before walking with an air of righteous indignation, mimicking his father's " God of Mankind " gait, and headed toward the cage that was constantly blaring alarms. His father's gait was quite remarkable.
It's better than having slow motion even without it.
"Okay, I understand. Leave it to me..." He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound more reliable. However, this reliability didn't last long.
Ian walked to the cage, first tilting his head to look at the growling Black Adam inside as if examining something new and interesting, and then looking at the solemn-faced crowd.
Finally, his gaze fell on Batman's solemn expression.
"No matter what happens tomorrow, Uncle Bruce, you must remember that your Uncle Ian is here to save you again!" He patted his rather muscular chest.
His tone was as if he were promoting some kind of health supplement.
"What uncle?!"
These words were like a depth charge, instantly detonating among the remaining members of the Justice League.
Wonder Woman's eyes widened instantly. She looked at Ian, then at Batman, her face filled with disbelief, as if to say, "Did I also lose my hearing in that fight?" Aquaman, whose wounds had just been bandaged, nearly slipped off the concrete block, Mera quickly steadied her perpetually unsteady husband.
Both of them wore the same blank expression.
Several battered heroes instinctively moved closer, exchanging shocked and confused glances, and began to whisper among themselves, their words carrying the power of Creator.
At that moment, they created a fifth human race on Earth, beyond the four existing races. Batman, at that very moment, began to evolve at a speed surpassing even Darwin's.
His skin, especially his face, had turned a deep liver color. Clark silently raised his hand to cover his eyes, his shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly.
However, he is a professional superhero.
Even in extraordinary circumstances.
He was also better at holding back than other superheroes.
Clark, his face flushed red, and Bruce, his face ashen, formed a stark contrast at this moment, much like their subtle relationship in the DC Universe.
"Yes, that's right. I've been telling the truth a lot lately."
Ian successfully established his relationship with Batman within the Justice League. He looked around at the group of superheroes who lacked a Super Brain Super Brain or didn't use it often. None of them realized that Ian's seniority had unknowingly made him the highest-ranking member of the Justice League.
Suppressing the urge to burst into laughter, Ian turned his gaze to the buzzing, highly unstable cage. Without the slightest hesitation, he stepped inside as if returning to his own home.
The specially made, dark blue force field, powerful enough to imprison Divine Power, seemed to pose no obstacle to him; it didn't even cause a ripple or wave when he passed through it.
Black Adam, trapped in the cage, was on the verge of exploding with frustration and rage.
Seeing a seemingly frail boy walk in recklessly, a fierce glint flashed in his eyes, and he pounced like a cheetah! His massive hand, imbued with the power of thunder, instantly reached for Ian's throat!
Success!
Black Adam was overjoyed, intending to use this as a hostage to threaten the troublesome heroes outside—however, the expected cries of alarm, attempts to stop him, and hesitations did not occur.
The Justice League members outside didn't even change their expressions. Wonder Woman merely frowned slightly, seemingly worried about something else; Aquaman scratched his still-aching wound; Mera was checking Arthur's bandages; and Batman... Batman's face remained that peculiar liver color.
But there seemed to be a hint of pity in his eyes?
Unexpected.
I never expected this.
Even the most benevolent Superman doesn't care about children as much as the Dark Knight did. Just as Black Adam was feeling surprised because the scene contradicted the information he had about modern heroes.
The eerie calm lasted for a few seconds.
Hey, give me a hug!
Ian, who was being choked, did not suffocate.
Instead, they emitted cheerful sounds.
The next second, with a few "plop" sounds, six incredibly flexible arms and appendages made of some kind of black symbiotic substance instantly "grew" from Ian's waist and back!
These hands and feet seemed to possess their own consciousness, and with lightning speed they retaliated! Two arms locked onto Black Adam's throat, two tightly hugged his waist, and the remaining two wrapped around his thighs!
The sudden appearance of multiple limbs caught the ancient king off guard. Ian, like a giant, benevolent octopus, completely embraced the shocked Black Adam tightly.
The two were almost face to face!
Enraged, Black Adam almost instinctively clenched his fists, and with a sickeningly sharp "crack," he precisely crushed Ian's throat!
Success!
The thought had barely crossed Black Adam's mind when it was immediately replaced by unbelievable horror.
Because Ian, whose throat he had crushed, did not collapse in pain, but instead used his vocal organs, which should have been completely damaged, to produce a clear, even slightly mocking, sound.
"You have a good grip."
This even has the Voice " mentor's commentary feel to it.
Even people who haven't watched the Voice get angry when they hear this.
"This is impossible!!" Black Adam roared deafeningly, trying to tear this stubborn leech off his body. "What the hell are you?!"
He questioned loudly.
Ian was sick of hearing that rumor.
"As you can see, I am a pure human being." He spoke casually, as if introducing a common species, with a hint of disdain in his tone. "Don't look at me with those naive eyes. We Earthlings all know one common fact—the most important organ for human life is the heart!"
Upon hearing this...
Black Adam's already dark face became even darker.
"What does this have to do with him crushing the throat?"
He opened his mouth while pressing his teeth down.
Ian patiently "explained," as if teaching a mentally challenged child. "The heart is a good place, so I took precautions and moved my precious throat slightly, safely placing it inside my heart for protection. What you just crushed was just a useless external decorative Adam's apple."
"Of course you can't crush my real 'voice'."
"Understand?"
The last syllable.
Ian showed off his knowledge of ancient Egyptian.
"Nonsense!!" This absurd logic was so powerful that Black Adam was momentarily speechless, left only with helpless rage.
He suddenly unleashed his Divine Power.
A thick arm forcefully broke free from the symbiote's restraints, its clenched fist crackling with terrifying Black Flash, and slammed into Ian's unsuspecting chest with the force of splitting mountains and shattering rocks!
"Bang!!!"
With a muffled thud, Ian's chest caved in instantly, defying the laws of physics, as if all the structures inside had been pulverized by the punch.
[ Berserker XP +98]
Black Adam panted heavily, a cruel glint of pleasure flashing in his eyes. He was convinced that no matter what organs the monster hid or where it was located, it would surely die if it took a punch imbued with Divine Power straight to its heart!
However.
The truth is always so cruel.
Ian looked down at his sunken chest, then looked up. His complexion was still rosy and radiant, even with a healthy flush from exercise.
"Uh... thanks for the help? I've been feeling a bit tight in my chest lately, and that punch from you feels much better, it clears up all my meridians!" Ian felt he had gained a good amount of experience points this time.
"??????"
Black Adam were all numb.
He looked at Ian's sunken chest, then at the other's rosy cheeks and piercing eyes, and an absurd and chilling thought gradually took shape in his ancient and wise mind.
Black Adam only has the word "black" in his name; it doesn't mean his brain was black. This ancient emperor gradually came to understand the reaction issues of those superheroes.
"Didn't expect that, did you? My heart was in my throat! Hehe, I perfectly avoided the main damage! That's how amazing and survival-oriented our human physiology is!"
Seeing that Ian was about to speak again...
Black Adam's teeth were chattering.
"I... am... going... to... kill... you!!!"
Black Adam gritted his teeth so hard they almost ground them to dust; his extreme anger even temporarily suppressed the restlessness of the dark power within him.
In that instant when his consciousness was violently fluctuating due to his rage— Ian's eyes flashed, seizing this fleeting opportunity!
He suddenly tilted his head back, and then, with his forehead, which seemed to defy common sense in its hardness, he slammed it solidly and forcefully into Black Adam's forehead like Battering Ram!
"Thump!!!"
The ancient king was met with the most unexpected and frustrating invasion of his consciousness in his life.