Chapter 536: Chapter 536: Superman vs. Void

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Hearing the movement behind them, the Maximoff siblings turned around at the same time—and were startled.

"Who are you?"

"Christopher Reeve?"

To conceal his identity, he had even altered his facial structure. It wasn’t an exact match to the famous Superman actor, but at least it no longer resembled Henry Brown’s original appearance.

Still feeling that wasn’t secure enough, the man in the Superman suit pulled an adjustable wrench from his car trunk. With a burst of heat vision, he melted and reforged it into a silver mask, then put it on.

Though this action was probably his final obsession before fully committing to the role.

Seeing this, Pietro asked, "Is that really necessary?"

Superman merely glanced at them, uninterested in answering. He tilted his head up, rose straight into the air, and flew toward New York.

Watching him leave, Pietro stood there dumbfounded, staring in the direction he’d flown. Unfortunately, in the darkness, his vision wasn’t sharp enough to make out what was happening. He muttered again, "Was that really necessary?"

Wanda smacked her brother on the head, snapping him out of it. "Hurry up and take me after him. We’re joining the fight too."

"Oh." Pietro placed a hand at Wanda’s lower back and neck, then burst into super speed, racing all the way from Fenwick, Connecticut, back to Manhattan, New York.

---

Under the moonlight, two men floated in opposition above Manhattan Island.

One wore a yellow suit with a blue cape, a black belt at his waist bearing an "S" symbol. The other wore a blue suit with a red cape, with an "S" emblem framed in a pentagonal diamond shape on his chest.

Because of the night, both figures appeared somewhat indistinct. Yet Void’s silhouette was even darker, as if obscured by something from another layer of reality.

The sudden appearance of another "person" in the sky caused Void to halt his shadow-devouring rampage. Tilting his head, he examined the man before him. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

In his echoing, magnetic voice, he said,

"I didn’t expect someone to dress up as Superman. But judging from the fact that you can fly, you’re not some clueless cosplayer. In that case, why not cherish your life instead of coming to face me?"

The masked Superman had no interest in conversation. He knew there was nothing to talk about with Void—this wasn’t an opponent that could be defeated with words.

Moreover, at a certain level of existence, words themselves carried power. Void clearly belonged to that level, which only made others even less inclined to engage in idle chatter.

In the next instant, Superman lashed out with a direct kick, sending Void flying three blocks away, carving a deep trench into the ground.

Despite its destructive appearance, the attack dealt minimal damage.

Superman had originally intended to grab one of Void’s arms, then follow up with a barrage of punches using his other hand—minimizing Void’s ability to dissipate the impact through distance.

But just before he could seize the arm, the yellow-and-blue-clad powerhouse retreated, slipping out of reach and preparing to counterattack.

To avoid taking that counterpunch, Superman inverted his body midair and followed up with a sweeping kick.

The sweep was destined to miss—his opponent had already retreated another step, beyond even the reach of his toes.

So Superman converted the sweep into a thrusting kick. His leg shot forward like a spear, striking Void square in the chest and sending him flying.

Though the sequence sounded complex, it had already reached the level of an all-out exchange—one where failure could cost a life.

Yet for the two of them, it barely counted as a warm-up. Like top-tier boxers in the first round, they were probing each other with every strike.

Each blow carried lethal force, yet none landed cleanly—either missing entirely or being redirected. It was almost absurd.

These reactions were instinctive for both sides. No special training was needed; their bodies naturally responded in ways that protected themselves.

Void, unwilling to abandon his verbal assault, spoke again:

"Your strength is quite surprising. But do you really think you can defeat me? I possess the power of a million exploding stars—you understand that, don’t you? Haha... yes, you do."

Void had a degree of telepathic ability. While not on the level of mutants like Professor X—who could influence physiology through suggestion—he could still read the thoughts of the person before him.

The masked Superman made no effort to defend against this, or perhaps he simply didn’t care if his thoughts were exposed. Whoever threatened the safety of the world—he would defeat them. It was that simple.

From the moment he put on the red-and-blue suit with the "S" emblem, his thinking had shed its usual complexities. He was more certain than ever that his earlier decision had been correct: the Sentry—no, Void—could not be entrusted to anyone else.

Those he had named before suiting up... deep down, he hadn’t believed they could win either.

If anyone was to fight the Sentry, it had to be him.

This transformation was something even he hadn’t anticipated—and now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. The immediate priority was the Sentry before him, currently dominated by Void’s personality.

The only chance was to awaken the goodness within him.

Void continued, his tone coaxing:

"Oh, you want to awaken the Sentry—or rather, that coward Robert Reynolds. Hoping to work with him to suppress my personality."

"Yes, yes, that approach is certainly viable. Cowardly Robert has done it more than once. At least, he thinks he has. I’ve always obediently stayed tucked away in a corner of his mind."

"You see, he’s terrified of the world seeing me—terrified of people remembering his past as an addict, terrified of losing praise, of losing his followers and the women who admire him."

"The more he fears these things, the stronger I become. Because we are one and the same. The Sentry is simply the greater whole that encompasses us both. Without any one part, none of us would exist."

"And what about you, Superman? By putting on this classic red-and-blue suit with that ’S’ on your chest, do you become the perfect being from the comics? If so... why wear such an out-of-place mask?"

Floating cross-legged, Void suddenly waved his hand. The mask on Superman’s face was torn away, hovering in front of him. An invisible force compressed it, crushing the metal until it became a small, smooth, glowing sphere no larger than a fingertip.

It wasn’t that Superman refrained from acting because he wanted to listen to Void’s rambling. Rather, based on their brief exchange earlier, he was analyzing how to win—or how to win with minimal cost and destruction.

Self-control had always been Superman’s greatest challenge.

Even with his mask removed, he wasn’t overly concerned about his identity being exposed. Not because his facial structure had been altered, but because—at this moment—he genuinely didn’t care.

At last, Superman’s appearance drew the attention of the U.S. military observers stationed nearby. They had watched helplessly as the Sentry rampaged through Manhattan, claiming lives one after another. No matter how furious they felt, their orders were only to observe.

Now, under faint lighting, they could just make out the figure in the night sky—a man in a bright red cape standing before the Sentry, the "S" emblem on his chest fluttering audibly in the wind.

The soldiers observing from afar were left completely dumbfounded.

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