Chapter Forty-Four: A Single Hand Suppressing the God of Death and the God of Destruction

“Dad, I’m really scared.”
“Scared of what, John?”
“Scared of going back to that room I’ve never seen before. I hate it there.”

Azoo took a deep breath. “It’s all white, like I’m trapped there, unable to scream. Dad, is that what you called the Catholic hell?”

Peter was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “That’s not hell. Hell is far worse.”

He stroked Azoo’s hair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Although Azoo had been sent here by a spaceship from childhood, he seemed to have vague memories from before his arrival.

In the Black Robe universe, Azoo was born in a laboratory and subjected to countless experiments and brainwashing from an early age.

Now, after being sent here by a meteor shower, he had avoided a tragic childhood, and his fate had changed.

Since Azoo had been sent to this universe, was there still another Azoo in the Black Robe universe?

If so, could this phenomenon be some kind of psychic connection between two isotopic versions of the same individual across universes?

If not, was it merely a lingering memory in Azoo’s mind, a fragment from the moment of his birth?

“Crack!”

Just as Peter was lost in thought, a thunderclap echoed across the sky.

Looking up at the intensifying rain, Peter stood and said to Azoo, “It’s late, John. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Azoo obediently replied, stood up, and followed Peter off the barn roof.

...

The night passed quietly.

Morning came.

Peter contacted a construction crew and, with Martha and Jonathan’s help, began repairing the house.

Two mischievous kids helped out nearby.

Thanks to the heavy rain last night, Peter could use the “storm damage” as an excuse to explain the farm’s destruction.

By the fence, Clark glanced around furtively to ensure no one was watching, then pressed his finger against a nail, pushing it directly into the wooden post.

“You can’t reveal your powers, Clark.”

Azoo stood silently behind him, his voice low and calm.

Rubbing his nose, Clark looked a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I forgot.”

After last night’s scuffle, the two quickly made up.

Though Clark still felt a little awkward around Azoo.

---

“About last night, I’m sorry, John. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

After setting the post upright, Clark apologized to Azoo.

His comment that “Martha is the mother and Peter is the father” had been sternly shut down last night.

Feeling her dignity challenged, Martha couldn’t resist giving Clark a few swats on the backside.

Having been taught not to speak carelessly, Clark obediently apologized to Azoo.

“It’s okay.”

Azoo generously forgave him—after all, what he said was all lies.

He couldn’t help but murmur silently.

“I shouldn’t have hit you so hard last night.”

Azoo took a breath and apologized to Clark.

But to Clark’s ears, it didn’t sound very pleasant.

He replied, “I shouldn’t have thrown you down the stairs, John.”

“I shouldn’t have headbutted you, Clark.”

“I shouldn’t have thrown you onto the second floor, leaving you unable to get up, John.”

“Then I shouldn’t have thrown you into the barn, Clark, and broken through the wall.”

Their voices grew more heated as they spoke.

Azoo blushed and declared, “I’m stronger, I’m the Grim Reaper, the Lord of Hell, the Abyss King!”

Clark retorted without yielding, “I am Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds, the scissors of Atropos, the Fate goddess!”

“John? Clark?”

Hearing what sounded like another quarrel, Peter called out, shooting them a warning look.

The Grim Reaper, Lord of Hell, Abyss King Azoo, and Shiva, World Destroyer Clark, immediately subdued by Peter’s gaze, obediently returned to work.

...

Meanwhile.

Leno Luther followed Officer Lane into Old Holley’s residence.

Through investigating recent murders in town, the police quickly connected the victims to a robbery case from forty years ago.

Three suspects involved in that case had died; only Old Holley remained alive, making him the prime suspect.

After some investigation, Lane uncovered Old Holley’s true identity.

Leno Luther, a victim of the robbery, had somehow received information and arrived at the scene.

After a thorough search, the police found a demon mask in Old Holley’s house as evidence.

“A young man? That doesn’t quite match your original description of the suspect.”

Leno surveyed the surroundings and spoke to Lane.

“We all know he had superhuman strength during the robbery—definitely not an ordinary person.”

Lane had little goodwill toward the businessman from the metropolis. “His body clearly underwent some mutation, Mr. Luther. Your chemical plant has been discharging something into the Smowell River. Maybe... this is related.”

A flicker of displeasure crossed Leno’s eyes. “The plant has been shut down by me, and... we have never discharged anything into the river.”

“Just a hypothesis, but since you’ve shut it down, whether it actually discharged anything is no longer important.”

Officer Lane said, “Sorry, I have to leave now. The suspect has vanished and probably fled. We need to organize a manhunt.”

Lane didn’t yet know that Peter had already destroyed all evidence and that Old Holley was beyond death.

Seeing Lane’s cold attitude, Leno chose not to push further and left Old Holley’s home, planning to return to the metropolis.

After taking a few steps, one of his subordinates reported the destruction at Peter’s farm.

Hesitating briefly, Leno canceled his return trip and drove toward Patrick Farm.

Ten minutes later, at Patrick Farm.

Peter was tidying up the damaged items in the living room when the sound of a car engine came from outside.

Leno Luther arrived at the farm, surveying the wreckage.

The devastating destruction looked like the aftermath of a typhoon—a complete mess.

Although there had been heavy rain last night, it was brief and no typhoon had struck.

Frowning, Leno wondered what exactly had happened here.

Who was Peter Patrick—this mysterious man?

“Mr. Luther?”

Just as he was lost in thought, a voice called to him.

Upon hearing Peter’s voice, Leno relaxed his brow and greeted him with a casual air.

“I hope I’m not being intrusive, Patrick.”

Leno extended his hand. “I heard your farm was hit by the storm, so I came to see if I could help. You know, I set up an agricultural fund to support farms in Smowell Town.”

Though Peter was unaware that the fund was likely created with him in mind, he knew this old fellow had no good intentions.

“No, thank you, Mr. Luther. I don’t think I need any assistance for the time being.”