Reigning Supreme in Every Reality

Another day arrived.

After the rain, the skies cleared, and sunlight bathed the world as Lyon set off for the 'battlefield'.

This was his second time flying to Afghanistan, and he was already familiar with the route.

Within a few minutes, he was on his way, overtaking several Boeing planes.

Lyon floated in the sky, overlooking the vast blue world below the clouds.

His eyes constantly moved, locking onto targets with precision even more accurate than radar.

At this time, it was nighttime in Afghanistan, and the Ten Rings' various bases were mostly under lockdown, preparing to rest.

However, there were always a few deranged terrorists who would take advantage of the deepening night to harass innocent civilians.

The first target Lyon locked onto was just such a group.

"You'll be the first!"

He spotted two armed terrorists violently kicking down a civilian's door.

Without hesitation, he tilted his body and instantly plummeted downward.

Shrouded in a biotic field, Lyon descended like a silent reaper.

As Lyon landed, he dispersed the bio field, causing the ground beneath him to crack like a spiderweb and emit a deep, resonant thud.

The sound startled the two terrorists who had just kicked open the door.

They turned with their guns, cursing as they saw Lyon in his unusual attire and immediately started to advance toward him.

"Dari? Are you Iranians or Tajiks?" Lyon asked in Dari.

Over the past few days, he had learned most of the official languages on Earth and understood the stream of Dari curses they were spewing.

But the two men showed no signs of stopping, even raising their guns to aim at his head.

Lyon shook his head. "It seems you don't want to talk."

"In that case, goodbye!" He extended his hands, moving like a phantom, grabbing both of them by the neck, lifting them above his head, and effortlessly snapping their necks.

With two crisp cracks, the terrorists' heads drooped, and their breaths ceased.

Lyon casually dropped their bodies.

"Pathetic trash."

Just as he was about to leave, something made him turn back to look at the family huddled together in fear inside the house.

It was a typical Pashtun family.

The elderly father had a full beard, deeply sunken eyes, and sallow, cracked lips.

The mother and two daughters were dressed in long, flowing robes, a mix of brown and orange, typical of Pashtun traditional clothing.

They all looked at Lyon with fear, their bodies trembling, unable to speak, as they desperately tried to shield their two daughters' heads in their embrace.

"Hi. You don't need to worry about any consequences from these two dying here," Lyon said in Pashto, the official language of Afghanistan. "It's late; go back to sleep. By morning, the nearby terrorist groups will all be gone."

After speaking, Lyon turned and floated into the air. With a glance, he locked onto his next target.

"E..Excuse me, may I ask?" Just as he was about to leave, a small, timid voice called out from inside the house.

Lyon turned around and saw it was the youngest girl in the family.

She was about seven or eight years old, her mouth covered by her terrified mother, but she still struggled to free herself and hesitantly asked, "Sir.. A.. Are you Superman?"

Lyon, dressed in a suit he made himself, wearing a cape, and arriving at a critical moment, did indeed look like Superman.

But Lyon was taken aback.

He hadn't expected Hollywood's cultural influence to be so strong that even a suffering family in Afghanistan knew about Superman.

...But then again, it made sense. A few years ago, before the Americans came, there must have been some rich entertainment life here too.

"Umm, I'm not, but it's okay if you want to call me that."

Lyon first smiled and answered the little girl's question, then reassured the two parents: "Don't worry, I'll be leaving soon, and those Ten Rings guys will be gone too."

"So, you're here to help us?" the little girl suddenly asked again, growing braver after receiving an answer. "Like when you knock those bad guys away on TV?"

Lyon was silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes, I'm here to chase away the bad guys. They won't bother you anymore."

"That's great! Superman, you're amazing and your new costume is cool!" The little girl cheered, breaking free from her mother's grasp and running toward Lyon, trying to hug his leg.

Lyon couldn't help but laugh.

He landed on the ground, squatted down, and gently held the little girl back. "What's your name?"

"Shafika. My name is Shafika Mazari!"

"Alright, Shafika, listen to me. Now, go back to your room, lie in bed, and have a good dream. By the time you wake up tomorrow morning, all the bad guys will be gone. How does that sound?"

But the little girl didn't respond immediately. She looked up at Lyon with big eyes. "Are you leaving, Superman?"

"Shafika," Lyon replied, avoiding the question as he tapped the little girl's forehead with his finger. "Next time, don't talk to strangers so easily, and always listen to your mother!"

After saying that, Lyon stood up, took a step back, and with a whooshing sound, flew into the clouds.

Woosh—Boom!

The whole family ran out into the courtyard, staring in awe at the dark night sky.

"Praise be to Allah, that really was Superman!" The old father made a gesture of blessing.

That night, the family suddenly found themselves looking forward to tomorrow's life.

...

Lyon swiftly cleared out all the terrorists harassing civilians within Afghanistan. Each time, he would simply appear, throw a punch, and then leave.

The entire sequence was over in a second, a smooth and efficient process.

In total, it took him no more than ten minutes.

After dealing with the small fry, Lyon began targeting the terrorist organization bases.

If this were a normal strategic operation, one would start by attacking smaller bases, gradually weakening the terrorist forces, and finally driving them out of the country.

But Lyon wasn't going to do that.

His first stop was the largest base of the Ten Rings.

Hovering in the clouds, his cape flapped wildly in the high-altitude wind.

Looking down, he saw over seventy patrols at the base.

With his X-ray vision, Lyon also had a clear view of the more than four thousand sleeping combatants inside the base.

Additionally, he spotted a Jericho missile in one of the tents.

That was the Jericho missile, a powerful weapon Tony had recently developed. Just one round could obliterate an entire small mountain.

"How did they get their hands on a Jericho missile? Tony, Tony, you're really playing into their hands," Lyon muttered, though he knew Tony was already feeling guilty about it.

He couldn't help but voice his thoughts as he pulled out his phone.

"Jarvis," Lyon called, "record everything I see in a moment, and send it to Tony after the fight."

"Especially any Stark weaponry I come across. Capture every detail for him to see."

Lyon was determined to make Tony feel so guilty that he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

"Understood, Master Lyon. The recording equipment is now activated," Jarvis's voice replied from the phone.

Lyon nodded silently and descended, saying, "The battle begins now!"

This time, he didn't bother hiding his presence. He plummeted into the Ten Rings' camp like a meteor, moving so fast that his descent sparked flames from friction with the air.

"Boom!" The deafening sound of his impact echoed throughout the camp.

The next moment, alarms blared, and shouts of "Enemy attack!" rang out as the terrorists quickly gathered.

Lyon stood in the center of the camp, taking out any enemy that appeared with his heat vision.

Before long, the terrorists realized that they had already lost half of their forces without even engaging in battle.

Some of the terrorists had just fallen asleep when they were abruptly awakened and faced with this disaster. They started shouting about a monster and began to flee in panic.

However, they were quickly shot down by the remaining fighters who focused their fire on the fleeing men.

But those who stayed behind weren't in much better shape.

Too terrified to even show their faces, they hid behind tents, pulling out grenades, grenade launchers, rocket launchers, tank missiles, and even the Jericho missile, planning to obliterate the attacking "monster" in one massive barrage.

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