Chapter 422: Allen Returns to Arkham and Discovers It's Shut Down
Although failing to slay the Black Death Emperor was a slight regret, it wasn't a major issue anymore.
At the very least, the freed Anti-Monitor was bound to pursue him to the ends of the earth.
Whether he would succeed was a matter that time would decide.
However, things were far worse for the Supreme Superboy—he was being jointly hunted by the Lanterns.
With a wave of his hand, Allen summoned a portal and called forth his undead army.
Over ten thousand undead skeletons appeared, the weakest among them at Tier Twelve. Among them were hundreds at Tier Fifteen, nine at Tier Eighteen, and one at Tier Twenty-One: a Ancestral Chaos Dragon.
This sight left all the Lanterns too afraid to even breathe.
It was more than enough to destroy an entire universe.
And the Ancestral Chaos Dragon hadn't even acted yet.
"We're leaving."
With the magical auras glowing from Allen's hands, the portal evolved into a dimensional gate.
Beyond the gate was a gray, desolate world.
The air was thick with death, cold, and despair—these auras surged forward like a flood.
"Hyah!"
Standing atop the Ancestral Chaos Dragon's head, Allen led the undead army marching toward the Underworld.
…
The Underworld.
In Hela's domain—her replica of the Asgardian Palace.
At this moment, the once-glorious palace lay in ruins, with the sounds of fierce battle echoing through the air.
Undead creatures were locked in chaotic combat on the outskirts, as if trapped in a cycle of endless slaughter.
Hela, as the goddess and ruler of death, looked disheveled, her hair loose and her body drenched in her own blood.
Fenrir, the giant wolf who had accompanied her since childhood, lay heavily wounded nearby.
"Do you really intend to wipe me out?"
Hela's expression was one of despair, sensing that the divine power of death within her was nearly depleted.
Before her stood five death god lords, all bearing mocking expressions.
"Hela, you were always an outsider. You were never meant to share in the resources of the Underworld."
"If you're wise, hand over your divine core—spare yourself unnecessary suffering."
"You should realize by now—no one in the Underworld will help you."
"…"
The Underworld, Hell, and Purgatory were known as the three special dimensions, all dominated by unchanging cycles of death and slaughter.
The so-called Lady Death, symbolic ruler of the Underworld, rarely intervened in its affairs. In fact, without her permission, one could not even meet her.
Because of this, even though Hela had been accepted into the Underworld by Lady Death herself, she had always been ostracized as a foreign deity.
"Unless I die, I won't give it up."
Hela flatly rejected the outrageous demand to surrender her divine core.
Once stripped of her divine core, she wouldn't just lose her status as a death god lord—her original godhood as Asgard's death goddess would vanish as well, reducing her to a mortal superbeing vulnerable to aging and death.
Though she carried the blood of both Helheim and Asgard, giving her a longer lifespan, she was already thousands of years old. Without her divine core, her body would quickly deteriorate—she wouldn't have many years left.
Besides, even if she gave in, there was no guarantee they'd actually let her live out her remaining years in peace.
No matter how she looked at it, this was a life-or-death battle.
One of the death gods said coldly, "Since you refuse to listen, we'll take it by force."
A death divine core was the most valuable resource—it could be used to mold a new god of death.
Clearly, with the major factions of the Underworld warring against one another, adding a new death god to one's side would be a huge boon.
Thus, rogue death gods like Hela were top-priority targets.
Boom!
Just as they were about to strike—
A dark portal suddenly appeared in the gloomy void.
An ancient, primordial aura surged through it, as though a being from the prehistoric chaos that predated the universe had arrived in the Underworld.
Who?!
Hela and the five death gods were all stunned.
What kind of being could just waltz into the Underworld?
It had to be remembered that the death gods had long ago fortified the spatial laws here, forbidding any living beings from setting foot inside.
Judging by the aura alone, even the top figures in the Underworld would retreat before such a presence.
ROAR—!
A dragon's roar echoed.
In that instant, the undead army stopped fighting; the souls of the dead froze like glitched projections, some even on the verge of shattering, while skeletons creaked, struggling not to collapse.
Yet the death god lords all felt as if they were suffocating.
Next, a ferocious dragon's head poked through the dimensional gate.
The five death god lords were stricken with terror, while Hela's stunned face suddenly bloomed with a faint smile.
"Yahaha!"
Leaping down from the dragon's head, Allen shouted, "Mommy, catch me!"
Who is this guy?
He seemed so weak.
Compared to the Ancestral Chaos Dragon, Allen's presence was that of an ant.
The five death god lords kept their full attention on the dragon the entire time, clearly seeing it as the real threat, and secretly sending out distress signals to their respective factions.
Splat—
Allen fell flat on the ground—face first.
Hela glanced deliberately into the air, pretending not to see him.
"I saw that, Kelp!" Allen shouted angrily. "You stepped back just to avoid catching me, didn't you?"
He lifted his head, blood dripping from his nose, and stormed over to Hela, wiping his nose all over her clothes.
Ugh…
The unhygienic act instantly filled Hela with disgust.
"What's going on here?" Allen looked around. "Mommy, our house got demolished? How much are they compensating for the land? Can I live it up now as a rich second-generation heir?"
"I got beaten up," Hela said with a pout.
"What?!"
Allen looked stunned. "There really are still good people out there, fighting for justice!"
"…"
Do you even hear yourself?!
Your own home got wrecked and you're praising the attackers?
Hela couldn't help rolling her eyes.
ROAR—!
BOOM!
The Ancestral Chaos Dragon landed, bringing with it the entire undead legion.
Each one radiated power beyond Tier Twelve, causing the death gods' hearts to tremble.
A Tier Twelve undead was equivalent to a battalion commander in the Underworld.
Tier Fifteen undead were basically on par with lesser death gods.
Tier Eighteen? They weren't confident they could defeat even one.
Before they could finish being shocked, they watched in horror as the Underworld's energies surged like waves into the undead troops.
Wait…
They're not native to the Underworld?
The five death god lords were completely dumbfounded.
Undead this powerful shouldn't exist outside the Underworld.
And those that were native wouldn't undergo this kind of baptism.
Clearly, the energy infusion was a final step—these undead were growing even stronger.
"These all yours?" Hela asked, astonished.
"Yup!" Allen replied smugly.
"Good son… Mommy got beaten up," Hela suddenly pouted, switching to a pitiful tone.
"Get lost! Who's your son? You think I'm insane?" Allen retorted shamelessly.
"…"
So everything before was fake affection?
Fine, I was the fool then.
Hela's expression froze. She rolled her eyes with a deadpan look and asked, "What will it take for you to help me?"
"I want to eat boobs."
THWACK!
Before he finished speaking, Hela's fist met his face, and he clutched his eye in pain. "Ow! Fine, no boobs! But did you have to hit me?!"
"You wanted a female giant, right? Help me, and I'll catch one for you."
"Deal."
Hela remembered Allen had been obsessed with the giant women of Helheim—so she offered that as a bargaining chip.
But Allen had something else in mind.
Just imagining 4 to 6 meter tall, curvy giantesses made his blood boil.
"Mommy~"
Allen clung to Hela's arm and whined, "I want voluptuous, six-meter-tall giantesses—ten of them just to start."
"You've got a lot of nerve."
"Pretty please~?"
"Fine. Whatever you want."
In fact, Helheim was one of Hela's strongholds—it wouldn't take much effort for her to bring back a few loyal giantess followers. To them, serving their goddess would be an honor.
With the price set, Allen was ready to cause some chaos.
"Ah-da!"
He raised his leg and kicked one of the death gods.
The target? Jet-black from head to toe, with a jackal head—it was none other than Anubis.
As the Egyptian god of death, he couldn't allow such disrespect. Just as he was about to raise his staff in retaliation, he noticed the Ancestral Chaos Dragon looming behind Allen like a guardian beast.
Thud!
Allen's kick landed, but Anubis didn't budge.
Instead, Allen fell down, clutching his leg.
"Bro, are you made of stone or something?! That was unreasonably hard!"
"…"
So much for acting tough.
Anubis was utterly innocent—he had literally done nothing.
"No more nonsense," Allen said cheerfully as he stood. "I'm a very reasonable man. But Wangcai over here? Not so much."
"Right, Wangcai?"
ROAR—!
The Ancestral Chaos Dragon let out a mighty roar, shaking the heavens.
"Please, sir, don't say any more. We're willing to cooperate and compensate—anything you want," Anubis said bitterly.
He now understood: the balance of power in the Underworld had just shifted dramatically.
A single Ancestral Chaos Dragon was enough to establish a new top-tier force.
"Now that's more like it."
Allen stepped forward and patted Anubis's shoulder. With a sly grin, he asked, "By the way, got any jackal-girl beauties?"
"...Huh?!"
Seriously, man? Even beast-girls?
"The look in your eyes… it's the same misunderstanding as everyone else," Allen said gloomily. "As a serious scholar of exotic species, my intentions are entirely pure. Zero lewd thoughts."
Yeah, right.
And your face says otherwise.
"Apologies, sir. I misjudged you," Anubis said with forced respect.
"Hmm… I want the black-furred variety. Thick hips. Big boobs."
"…"
So much for pure intentions.
You've made yourself perfectly clear now.
"Get away from me!" Hela dragged Allen off, unable to watch any longer.
He was supposed to be securing compensation—but all he wanted were beast-women.
What about rebuilding her palace? Feeding her army?
Eventually, the five death god lords nodded in agreement, accepting all of Hela's demands.
Of course, she didn't push them too hard—she didn't want to provoke a desperate retaliation from the powers behind them.
While they negotiated, Allen grew bored and glanced at the wounded Fenrir.
"Allen, what are you doing?!"
Hela turned just in time to catch him peeing on the giant wolf.
She'd spent forever bathing Fenrir last time.
Some habits really don't change.
Allen pulled up his pants like nothing had happened and grinned. "Mommy, I'm home! I'll leave the undead army with you, okay?"
Snap!
With a flick of his fingers, he vanished on the spot.
…
Arkham Asylum.
Once a bustling, overcrowded madhouse…
There wasn't a soul in sight—an eerily silent and desolate scene.
Waking up on his exclusive hospital bed, Allen looked at the dust-covered sheets and couldn't help but complain, "Dean Quincy must've embezzled the funds. Couldn't even hire a janitor to clean the place."
"Something's off. Why is it so quiet?"
"Normally, by now the inmates should be brawling."
Allen poked his head out into the hallway, moving stealthily like a secret agent infiltrating an enemy stronghold.
He casually picked up some scattered papers and analyzed them, "Looks like they left in a hurry. Didn't even have time to grab the files."
"Who would dare attack a property under Wayne Enterprises? That's basically spitting in Batsy's face."
"Besides, don't they know I live in Arkham Asylum? That's like taking a dump in a fireworks warehouse while lighting a cigarette—just begging to die."
He checked room after room, and sure enough, the place was completely abandoned.
In the entire asylum, Allen was the only one wandering around.
"Doesn't feel like a proper evacuation… more like they all fled in a panic."
The director's office computer, medical treatment equipment, even the medicine in the pharmacy—everything was still there.
If this had been a planned evacuation, they definitely would've taken all the valuable gear.
"Did the world end while I was out?" Allen muttered, puzzled.
Given how disaster-prone the American comic world was, Allen couldn't think of a single reasonable explanation.
Suddenly, a beam of light flashed past the window.
"Someone's there!"
Crash!
Allen kicked through the window and leapt into the night.
As he approached the outer perimeter wall, he crouched and sprang forward.
What appeared before his eyes, not far away, was a massive encampment filled with military tents.
"Stop! Any closer and we'll open fire!"
A soldier in a watchtower spotted Allen immediately, locked a spotlight on him, and barked a warning.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. agents?"
At a glance, Allen recognized their gear as belonging to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standard tactical unit.
Suddenly, a figure blocked the full moon overhead, casting a bat-shaped shadow.
It could only be Batman himself.
Still clad in his black battle armor, everything but the lower half of his face hidden beneath his cape.
The moonlight stretched his silhouette, making him appear like a demon keeping vigil over the night.
"Batsy, I missed you so much."
With swift steps, Allen rushed forward and gave him a big hug.
"What did you do?" Bruce asked in a low, grave voice.
"I traveled through dimensions again," Allen replied, lifting his head with
a sincere expression.
Bruce's face fell as he clarified helplessly, "I meant—what did you do before you traveled, that caused Arkham Asylum to be shut down?"
Allen suddenly understood. "Oh, not much. I was watching a videotape to summon Sadako before I crossed over."
"..."
Sure enough, Sadako's appearance had scared off every patient and medical staff member in Arkham Asylum.