Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [197]

A glass of water sat on the table, small bubbles slowly rising to the surface.

The Merciless removed his helmet and picked up the sparkling water, downing it in one gulp.

“I’ve been played.”

Setting the glass down, he muttered to himself.

Just moments ago, he had felt the pulsing energy of the Speed Force. In this world, there was only one speedster: Bruce Wayne.

Without a doubt, Bruce had returned—or perhaps, he had never truly left this world at all.

“As expected of you, Bruce. No matter how unbeatable the enemy, you always find a way to come back.”

But what of it?

No matter how Bruce struggled, defeating the Merciless was an impossibility.

The Merciless wielded the power of the God of War, but that wasn’t his only advantage.

Before him, golden ripples shimmered in the air, expanding outward. The portal to a pocket dimension unfolded before his eyes.

With heavy, armor-clad steps, the Merciless walked into the space.

Inside was a massive armory.

Countless mythical weapons were displayed, waiting for the Merciless to wield them.

And there, imprisoned within the vault, were innumerable spectral souls, their expressions blank and unresponsive to the world around them.

This was the true terror of the Merciless.

When he had donned the helmet of Ares and claimed the War God’s power, he had mercilessly slaughtered the other gods of his universe.

He took their realms, their weapons, and even enslaved their spirits.

From their spoils, he forged this sacred armory.

With such overwhelming power, the Merciless saw no possibility of failure.

“Struggle all you like, Bruce,” he whispered. “Just make sure you reach me soon. It would be dreadfully dull if you weren’t there when I execute Diana or that owl.”

His gaze swept across the weapons within the vault.

The Chains of Heaven, used to bind the Bull of Heaven; the Angelic Sword, eternal and unbreakable; the Nibelung Blade, forged in the fires of legend; the Scythe of Fate, which severed Medusa’s head...

The vault was brimming with such treasures.

Even if Bruce had something as formidable as Mjolnir, how far could he really get?

At most, it would simply become another addition to the Merciless’s collection.

“I suppose my armory could use a hammer,” he mused.

Bruce was running within the Speed Force, red lightning crackling as he circled the Earth over and over.

At such speeds, time distorted and space bent around him.

But Bruce wasn’t trying to alter time. The lessons of past mistakes ensured he would never meddle with the timeline again.

This run had a different purpose: to reach another realm entirely.

Olympus.

Bruce’s body vibrated at an intense frequency, bypassing the barriers of Olympus with ease.

In an instant, he arrived at Hephaestus’s forge, nestled beneath Olympus’s eternally erupting volcano.

The smith god had just finished crafting a weapon and was sitting back to rest.

In his massive hands, he held a wooden cup larger than a bucket, filled with a liquid that churned like molten lava.

When Hephaestus saw Bruce, he froze for a moment.

“You again?”

He grumbled, setting the cup aside. “Where’s Diana? Why isn’t she with you?”

“It’s a long story,” Bruce replied, wasting no time. He explained everything that had happened.

As Hephaestus listened, his expression grew increasingly grim. By the time Bruce mentioned that the Merciless had Ares’s power and had slaughtered his world’s Olympian gods, the smith could no longer remain seated.

Bang!

Hephaestus hurled his cup to the ground, the liquid spilling and hissing as it hit the floor.

“Damned Ares!” he growled. “No matter the universe, he’s always causing trouble!”

Hephaestus’s grudge against Ares ran deep—rooted in the humiliating affair between Ares and his wife, Aphrodite.

Bruce wisely refrained from commenting on the god’s domestic issues, even if it involved his future in-laws.

“The real problem isn’t just the War God’s power,” Bruce said. “It’s the enslaved souls and the countless mythical weapons he’s amassed.”

The Merciless’s collection of weapons formed a titanic vault of divine armaments.

Bruce, who understood the transformative power of a single divine weapon better than anyone, knew just how daunting such an arsenal could be.

Hephaestus recognized the gravity of the situation. His face darkened with concern.

“Bruce, we’ll be family one day, so I won’t hide the truth from you.”

He gestured toward his storeroom.

“If the Merciless really killed an entire universe’s worth of gods, then even if you emptied my storeroom, it wouldn’t match his vault.”

If the Merciless had harvested the most valuable weapons from so many gods, then his collection would surpass anything Hephaestus could offer.

“My weapons are made from my power or are empty shells waiting for their future wielder,” Hephaestus explained. “They’re unfinished—mere prototypes.

“The Merciless’s weapons, on the other hand, are perfected and infused with divine power. There’s no comparison.”

The smith shook his head.

“I could forge you the strongest weapon imaginable, but that would take at least a century. You don’t have that kind of time.”

Bruce nodded, understanding. After a moment of thought, he proposed an idea.

“What about crafting something to counteract his weapons? Like a bracelet or something that could strip his weapons from him?”

“A bracelet? That’s ridiculous!” Hephaestus barked with laughter. “Even if such a thing existed, it wouldn’t be something I could whip up overnight.”

Still, the concept intrigued him. Perhaps he could explore it in the future.

Hearing the smith’s firm denial, Bruce wasn’t discouraged. His true goal lay elsewhere.

“Hephaestus, I need information.”

Bruce leaned forward. “Have you heard of a material called Element X?”

Element X—what Kathoom had called the Tenth Metal.

In truth, the ranking of the universe’s ten metals wasn’t linear by strength. The first nine metals combined couldn’t match even a fraction of the Tenth Metal’s power.

It was the material the World Forger used to create the Multiverse.

It embodied pure potential, capable of transforming into any form its wielder desired, empowering others, or awakening those lost to darkness.

If Bruce could obtain the Tenth Metal, defeating the Merciless would be within reach.

At Bruce’s question, Hephaestus fell silent for a long moment.

Finally, he spoke.

“You’ve got guts, Bruce. Even thinking about it is bold.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked. “Is it forbidden?”

“Forget it, Bruce,” Hephaestus said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen Element X in my life, and you certainly won’t find it on Earth.”

Before Bruce could respond, Kathoom’s voice rang in his mind.

“Lies!”

The owl declared.

“Hephaestus has definitely seen the Tenth Metal—and it’s on Earth!”

“Are you sure?”

Bruce asked mentally. “Why would he lie?”

The Merciless had already annihilated Olympus in another universe. With such a terrifying threat looming, and Diana’s life on the line, Hephaestus had no reason to withhold the truth.

“He’s not lying,” Kathoom explained. “He doesn’t realize he’s seen it. Ask him about something called a Mother Box.”

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly.

The Mother Box—a name he had encountered before.

While on Themyscira, Kathoom had mentioned it when Bruce asked about powerful weapons on the island.

But the owl had quickly dismissed it as uncontrollable and dangerous, advising Bruce to abandon the idea.

Could it be that the Mother Box was forged from the Tenth Metal?

Bruce wasted no time, turning back to Hephaestus.

“What can you tell me about the Mother Box?”

At the mention of the name, Hephaestus’s expression froze.

Of course…

Hephaestus's expression grew serious as he recalled an ancient war, a time when Earth's many races united, even calling upon aid from the cosmos, to face a terrifying foe.

“What was that guy’s name again?”

He furrowed his brow in concentration. “Dasade? Sackade? Or...”

“Darkseid,” Bruce interjected.

“Yes! Darkseid!”

Hephaestus’s eyes lit up as the name clicked into place. “That guy was a real menace. I heard he was still just a child back then, yet he nearly destroyed Earth!”

Both Zeus and Ares had fought in that war. Hephaestus, however, had stayed behind, serving as a blacksmith to supply weapons.

Despite not being on the front lines, he had seen the spoils of war with his own eyes:

Three Mother Boxes.

“Now that you mention it, those Mother Boxes were peculiar,” Hephaestus admitted grimly. “I couldn’t identify the material they were made of, and considering their abilities, it’s entirely possible they were forged from Tenth Metal!”

The Mother Boxes possessed powers that left even the Old Gods in awe.

They could restructure matter according to the user’s will—an ability akin to that of a creator deity.

Hephaestus had always been curious about what gave the Mother Boxes their miraculous properties, but Zeus hadn’t allowed him the opportunity to study them.

After defeating Darkseid, the three Mother Boxes were separated and sealed away.

Now, if they were truly made of Tenth Metal, everything made sense.

Bruce felt a spark of hope ignite. If the Tenth Metal had been found, why not use it against the Merciless?

The plan seemed obvious to him.

Unfortunately, Kathoom, who had been silently listening, immediately spoke up the moment Bruce’s thoughts veered off course.

“Hold it!”

Kathoom’s voice was sharp and urgent. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about using a Mother Box to deal with the Merciless!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Bruce asked, genuinely puzzled. “Isn’t that a perfectly logical idea?”

Logical?

Kathoom nearly lost his temper.

“Bruce, I recommend a book for you,” the owl said, sighing heavily. “It’s an ancient Eastern classic called Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Read it. You’ll find your kindred spirit in there.”

To use a Mother Box against the Merciless?

What kind of madness was that!

Mother Boxes emit a signal when activated—a signal that would inevitably attract Steppenwolf.

If Steppenwolf came to Earth, he’d discover the Anti-Life Equation hidden there, and then Darkseid’s army would undoubtedly descend upon the planet.

All of this just to stop the Merciless?

This was no different from summoning Dong Zhuo to deal with the Ten Attendants in Three Kingdoms.

Then again, this sort of reckless strategy was exactly what one might expect from Batman.

Kathoom wasted no time explaining the risks to Bruce in full detail.

Predictably, it didn’t seem to faze him.

“I don’t intend to use the Mother Box,” Bruce said firmly. “I want to dismantle it and use the raw material.”

“That’s even worse!” Kathoom groaned. “Do you realize that dismantling a Mother Box would release enough energy to obliterate the entire solar system?”

Bruce froze, suddenly grasping the gravity of the situation.

Kathoom wasn’t exaggerating—this catastrophic scenario was entirely plausible.

Still, Bruce felt reluctant to abandon the idea. There had to be a way to use the Mother Box without triggering such consequences.

Wait a minute...

Bruce’s sharp mind suddenly struck upon a solution.

If activating the Mother Box on Earth would attract Steppenwolf, then why not use it somewhere else?

Not just somewhere else—but outside the DCEU universe entirely!

Bruce had previously attempted something similar with Kathoom, using a Time Turner within the multiversal corridors to reverse an entire universe’s timeline.

This time, it would simply be another experiment in a new location.

“Even without Kathoom, I can still open a portal,” Bruce muttered to himself. “The Speed Force is enough to travel between dimensions. I just can’t leave the DC Multiverse entirely.”

That wasn’t an issue.

Bruce could find a destroyed universe—like the one the Merciless hailed from—and use the Mother Box there...

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

A new idea struck him, filling him with both excitement and dread.

Mother Boxes could restore destroyed objects to their original state.

Could they also restore a destroyed universe?

Even if they couldn’t repair the entire universe, surely they could revive one or two individuals.

For example, the Merciless’s beloved, the Diana of the Dark Universe...

“Kathoom,” Bruce called out, his voice steady as he laid out his idea. “Do you think it’s possible?”

He wasn’t sure if reviving Diana was the right thing to do. Even if her heart was kind, she had been born into the Dark Universe.

Would bringing her back simply prolong her suffering?

Would it be cruel to disturb her rest?

“I can’t answer that,” Kathoom admitted. Despite his vast knowledge, he wasn’t an omniscient being capable of predicting multiversal outcomes.

“All I can say is that your idea is creative. But if you’re going to try it, you’d better be prepared to face the consequences.”

Prepared to bear the burden of such a decision.

Bruce fell silent, pondering for a long moment before finally making up his mind.

“I’ll do it. And I’ll do it now.”

He declared firmly, “The Merciless is holding my Diana hostage. I’ll take his Diana hostage in return.”

That was only fair.

Kathoom sighed in resignation but ultimately decided to support Bruce’s plan.

“Then go for it,” the owl said. “Just be careful not to get caught by Barbatos.”

Though the Dark Universe was technically Barbatos’s domain, it had already been reduced to ruins.

Barbatos was unlikely to pay much attention to a desolate wasteland.

Besides, as far as Barbatos knew, Bruce was still stranded in the Harry Potter universe, eagerly awaiting Savitar’s report.

With the Speed Force at his disposal, Bruce would only need a fleeting moment in the Dark Universe to accomplish his task. The chance of being noticed was slim to none.

Now that the plan was set, the next step was obtaining the Mother Box.

The three Mother Boxes were held by Atlantis, the Amazons, and humanity.

Having bested the Atlantean queen, become engaged to Diana, and being human himself, Bruce theoretically had access to all three.

“Go for the human one,” Kathoom advised. “Atlantis and Themyscira both have sworn to protect their Mother Boxes with their lives. Taking one would mean spilling blood.”

Especially with the Amazons.

Queen Hippolyta’s opinion of Bruce as her son-in-law was far from decided. Marching into Themyscira uninvited would likely earn him a public humiliation.

The human Mother Box, on the other hand, was a different story.

Unlike the grand shrines built by Atlantis and Themyscira, humanity had simply buried theirs in the ground.

And as it happened, Kathoom knew exactly where.

“It’s in Italy,” Kathoom revealed. “The Mother Box is buried beneath a monastery there.”

During the final days of World War II, it would be unearthed by German forces, then intercepted by the Allies and sent to America in 1944.

Bruce could retrieve it now, use it, and return it afterward.

“You’re planning to return it?”

Bruce’s eyebrow quirked skeptically. “Are you really Kathoom, or is someone impersonating you?”

Given Kathoom’s usual antics, the idea of him returning something was practically unthinkable.

“Of course I’m an imposter,” Kathoom replied with a smirk. “My real name is Thomas Wayne.”

“Just wait till I get back,” Bruce muttered. That sarcastic remark was unmistakably Kathoom.

Returning the Mother Box was critical, Kathoom explained.

Without it, the DC Universe would lose Cyborg, Superman couldn’t be resurrected, and the Justice League might never form.

“I still want to see Justice League 2,” Kathoom added cheekily. “If Warner won’t make it, I’ll just travel through the multiverse and watch it myself.”

“I don’t understand half of what you’re saying,” Bruce muttered, but he accepted the owl’s reasoning.

Getting engaged to Diana was one thing—it wasn’t a cosmic game-changer.

But removing two iconic heroes, especially Superman? That could disrupt the universe too much.

The DCEU might even need a full reset.

---

After solidifying his plan, Bruce bid farewell to Hephaestus.

“I’ve decided to try for the Mother Box,” he said. “If it truly is forged from Tenth Metal, it might be the key to defeating the Merciless.”

“Are you certain you’ll find it?”

Hephaestus asked with genuine concern. “I’ve heard the Mother Boxes are hidden in secret places, protected by formidable forces.”

“How will I know unless I try?”

Bruce didn’t reveal much, merely adding, “I’m a wizard who believes in the magic of love. If my determination to save Diana’s heart is strong enough, miracles will happen.”

“Good man!”

The smith god beamed, giving Bruce a hearty thumbs-up. Bruce’s resolve won his approval.

Looks like Diana chose well, Hephaestus thought. She has the same sharp eye as her sister-in-law.

With their farewell complete, Bruce departed Olympus.

Though he left empty-handed, his mindset had transformed.

The Merciless no longer embodied despair.

---

In a small town in Italy, the sun streamed through narrow cobblestone streets. Weathered buildings lined either side, their walls a testament to centuries of history.

Bruce appeared on the edge of the village. The faint jingling of horse-drawn carriages reached his ears. War had yet to reach this peaceful place, leaving it in serene tranquility.

At the heart of the town stood an ancient monastery.

The monastery’s stone walls were a deep gray, their towering spires reaching toward the heavens like eternal, pious believers.

Though Bruce had encountered gods of various kinds, he remained respectful of religion.

Who knew when a deity might suddenly decide to make an appearance?

He cloaked himself in shadows and entered the monastery.

The first thing he noticed was the wide courtyard, dominated by an ancient well at its center.

According to Kathoom, the Mother Box was buried beneath the monastery.

Buried, not preserved—meaning that even the clergy residing here were unaware of its existence.

“Too bad Kathoom got captured,” Bruce muttered to himself. “If I had access to his secret stash of funds, I could’ve just bought this place outright.”

The monastery’s vast size made locating the Mother Box a daunting task.

Bruce extended his hand dramatically and whispered, “Mother Box, come to me!”

Nothing happened.

He shook his head, half-expecting the outcome.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He would need to search the old-fashioned way.

Fortunately, Bruce had other methods at his disposal. As a wizard, he could use divination to narrow down the search area, saving himself considerable time.

Just as he was about to start, a strange sound came from the distance.

Someone was singing a nursery rhyme.

"Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday, baptized on a Tuesday..."

Boom!

A massive figure landed directly in front of Bruce, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“Ha!”

The giant bellowed. “I figured I’d find an enemy here, and I was right!”

---

This is a fan translation of 蝙蝠侠的猫头鹰教父 by 巴巴罗萨光年. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!