Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who kill their fathers!

The next day.

Podrick Farm.

Peter had left the farm to help out at Kent Farm, while John was nowhere to be seen.

That left only Star-Lord in the farmhouse, lounging on the couch in the living room, watching TV.

He wiped the chocolate from his lips and glanced at the book in his hands.

Click! Click! Click!

Just as Star-Lord was engrossed in Space Trek, he suddenly heard footsteps outside.

Hearing the sound, he quickly snapped the book shut at lightning speed.

But just as he was about to hide it, a package inside the book tore open.

The broken wrapper tumbled out from the hollowed-out pages.

In truth, this wasn't an ordinary book.

Beyond its cover, the pages had long since been carved out, as if to conceal a gun or—

"You're hiding food inside a book?"

A voice came from behind him.

Star-Lord turned to see a tall Black man standing by his side, his face filled with surprise.

"What?"

Star-Lord's chubby cheeks flushed red.

"N-No! Uh, I mean… no?"

He looked up in shock and realized it was an old acquaintance—Uncle Jones.

Though it had been a long time since Jones had visited the farm, Star-Lord recognized him instantly.

"Uncle Jones?"

Star-Lord quickly composed himself. As long as it wasn't his dad or John catching him stashing snacks in a book, he was fine.

If his dad found out, he'd definitely get a long lecture.

And if John caught him, he'd never hear the end of it.

Star-Lord smacked his lips and muttered, "Uh, Uncle Jones, I was just eating a Tasty Cake."

"Yeah, I can see that." Jones crossed his arms, amused. "But why are you eating it inside a book?"

"High fructose corn syrup."

Star-Lord blurted out nonsense.

"I have no idea what that is."

Jones raised an intrigued eyebrow.

Seeing that look on Jones' face, Star-Lord let out a long sigh, puffing out his already round cheeks before deflating in resignation.

Looking embarrassed, he admitted, "Mr. Jones, I'm not supposed to eat unhealthy food. It's bad for my body… and it's not great for my diet."

"Well, in that case," Jones mused thoughtfully, "how about we make a deal? You give me some information, and I won't tell your dad you've been hoarding sugar bombs in your book. And I definitely won't tell him that you went so far as to hollow out a book to do it. Haha! Kid, that's some next-level dedication."

At that, Jones couldn't help but laugh.

He never expected kids these days to be so creative.

"Fine…" Star-Lord sighed, clearly defeated. "Uncle Jones, what do you want to know?"

Jones sat down and asked, "Has anything major happened in Smallville lately?"

He hadn't been to the farm in months and wanted to catch up.

"Let me think…"

Star-Lord put the book down and recalled recent events.

"We've had quite a few visitors at the farm recently."

"Oh? Who?"

"Bruce Wayne and Zatanna Zatara."

Star-Lord briefly recounted what had happened when they visited the farm.

Jones was very familiar with Bruce Wayne.

He hadn't expected Gotham's billionaire to be traveling the world.

"Zatanna?"

Jones repeated the name under his breath.

It sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside and instead asked, "Where's your dad?"

"Dad went to Uncle Kent's farm."

Star-Lord hesitated for a moment before asking hopefully, "Uncle Jones, are you staying this time?"

He really missed Jones' cooking.

"As long as nothing urgent comes up, I'll be here for a few months."

Jones ruffled Star-Lord's hair.

"But you're eating way too much, kid. Over the next few months, I'm putting you through special training."

"Special training?"

Star-Lord blinked in confusion.

"Uncle Jones, what kind of training?"

Then, as if a thought struck him, he suddenly lit up.

"Wait—Uncle Jones, you're an alien, aren't you?"

"Uh…"

Jones hesitated.

He hadn't expected Peter to spill his secret to Star-Lord so quickly.

"…Yes, I'm a Martian."

"Awesome! So can you take me to space?"

Star-Lord's eyes gleamed with excitement.

Jones frowned.

"Why do you want to go to space?"

"Because I'm going to become the Conqueror of the Galaxy! In my dad's name, I'll make my voice echo across the stars!"

Star-Lord declared with absolute confidence.

Jones fell silent, staring at the over-the-top, overly dramatic kid before him.

Then, he remembered something.

The last time he had a drink with Peter in a Metropolis bar, Peter had drunkenly declared that he would "burn the galaxy" and "make humanity great again."

And now here was Star-Lord, shouting about galactic conquest.

Jones suddenly felt a creeping suspicion.

…Could it be that this entire family was actually planning to conquer the galaxy someday?

Had he, by training John, Clark, and Star-Lord in combat and helping them unlock their potential, unknowingly planted the seeds for the galaxy's future downfall?

After all, none of them were ordinary people.

Even the seemingly harmless chubby kid in front of him contained a terrifyingly immense power within him.

No, that couldn't be. Peter wasn't that kind of person.

Martian Manhunter reassured himself.

In his view, these three children weren't the type to be drawn toward destruction and war.

But then, an even scarier thought crossed his mind.

At the rate Peter had been picking up stray children over the past few years, what if the next one he brought home was a baby capable of starting an intergalactic war?

"Hah..."

He let out a deep breath, deciding to set aside these thoughts for now and judge based on future events.

He turned to Star-Lord and asked, "Where's John?"

"I don't know. He's been acting all mysterious lately."

Star-Lord answered casually.

At that moment, the person they were talking about—John—had already arrived in the city where Zatanna's family home was located.

Standing outside Zatanna's residence, he took a deep breath and pulled out a golden key.

That morning, while Peter had been out, he had sneaked into his room and stolen the key.

"Alright, I need to put this back before Dad notices."

Muttering to himself, John mustered his courage and pushed open the old, timeworn door of the house.

"Zatanna's father's workshop… I just need to use this key to unlock the door, and I'll activate the House of Mystery," he whispered as he made his way inside.

The vision he had seen in the mirror of another world still haunted him.

There was no doubt—the man constantly facing the media in that world was him. But... why was he lying?

The living room appeared ordinary, filled with books and various magical props.

With unanswered questions in his heart, John stepped onto the carpet and approached the workshop door.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he inserted the key into the lock.

"Click!"

With a crisp sound, the door unlocked.

Gently pushing it open, he stepped into Zatanna's father's workshop.

The room was filled with books and all sorts of peculiar trinkets.

After briefly scanning his surroundings, he stepped back out.

The moment he exited the workshop, the entire environment changed drastically.

The sofa and vases seemed to be sliced by space itself, firmly "sticking" to the ceiling, while countless staircases extended in all directions.

Realizing that he had activated the House of Mystery, John's heart pounded with excitement.

With anticipation surging through him, he opened a door just as he had done before.

The familiar darkness enveloped him, followed by the flicker of a single light.

John looked into the mirror, where a dimly lit scene unfolded.

The world within the mirror seemed to be inside a cozy room.

As he observed the familiar setting, he froze.

Isn't this… the layout of my own living room?

The sofa, the TV, the cabinets—everything was identical. Even the posters on the walls were placed in the exact same spots.

Inside the room, a grown-up version of himself, with neatly combed hair and a mature demeanor, was sitting on the sofa watching TV.

The news broadcast seemed to irritate him, as he pointed at the screen with disdain and said to the person sitting beside him, "See? This is what happens when people keep disrespecting me over and over again."

John couldn't make out who the person sitting next to him was, so he took a step closer.

In the next second, he was utterly stunned.

The person sitting beside the other him—was his father.

How is this possible?!

Staring at Peter, who was smiling at the television, John felt his entire worldview shatter.

Had he been wrong all along?

He had always believed that the dreams he frequently had were glimpses of another version of himself in a different world.

As far as he knew, his counterpart in that world had grown up in a lab—he had no parents.

But if that was true, then how could this version of him have the exact same father?

This doesn't make sense!

No… something was off.

John quickly noticed the differences.

The Peter in the mirror world wasn't exactly the same.

Not only were there subtle differences in appearance, but even his aura was completely different.

Before he could process this realization further, the John in the mirror spoke again.

He pointed at the TV screen, his expression filled with frustration, and growled at "Peter," "The one who should be taking care of those damn terrorists is me—not her!"

His face twisted with resentment and a hint of grievance. "I don't get it. How did that media-darling bitch suddenly become the new face of the Seven?"

Seeing how agitated he was, "Peter" reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"No, she's not. You are."

John clenched his fists. "Yes, Dad. It's not just her—the whole team is holding me back."

Taking a deep breath, his cheeks puffed up slightly like a frustrated child. With a sigh, he muttered, "Dad, you told me to be a man, not a god. But being human is exhausting. I have to pretend to be a celebrity in front of everyone, live by the rules they set for me…"

"It's all just… too much."