MARVEL/DC: DOCTOR IN THE MULTIVERSE

Inside Lynn's consciousness—

The system notification exploded silently.

[Ding! Successfully Treated an Extremely Complex Genetic Depletion Disorder!]

[Evaluation: S-Rank — Perfect Analysis!]

[You completed a high-level treatment involving radiation contamination and genetic reconstruction!]

[System Evaluation Increased!]

[Holy Hand Copy Activated…]

[Scanning Target Core Talents…]

[Detected Core Talents:]

[Super Genius — Strategy and Manipulation (S Rank)]

[Pinnacle Human Wealth — Special Talent (Uncopyable)]

[Heart of a Schemer — A Rank]

[Based on Treatment Contribution (S-Rank), highest selectable-quality talent automatically chosen.]

[Copy Progress: 10%…50%…100%!]

[Ding! Copy Complete!]

[Obtained S-Rank Talent: Super Genius — Strategy and Manipulation (Incomplete Version · 60%)]

Boom—!!!

An unimaginably vast flood of information erupted through Lynn's brain instantly.

If Batman represented the pinnacle of tactical calculation and detective reasoning—

And Iron Man represented the pinnacle of engineering genius—

Then Lex Luthor embodied something entirely different.

Macro-strategy.

Political manipulation.

Economic warfare.

Human psychology.

The anatomy of power itself.

In that instant—

The world's financial structure unfolded clearly inside Lynn's mind like a giant living map.

Capital movement.

Governmental leverage.

Corporate manipulation.

Media influence.

He could almost predict political shifts months in advance merely from microscopic fluctuations in stock behavior.

For the first time—

Lynn truly understood how men like Lex Luthor controlled civilizations without needing superpowers.

His thinking evolved once again.

Calmer.

Colder.

Far more dangerous.

Then Lynn slowly opened his eyes.

And looked toward the paralyzed Lex Luthor sitting helplessly across from him.

For the first time—

A trace of pity appeared in Lynn's gaze.

Like a university professor watching a child struggle through elementary arithmetic.

"Very well, Mr. Luthor."

Lynn stood slowly and placed a tablet onto the table directly before him.

"Our diagnostic phase has concluded."

"Now…"

A slight pause.

"Let us discuss the true consultation fee."

An electronic contract illuminated the screen.

The title appeared in large black letters:

Agreement Concerning the Gratuitous Transfer of Controlling Shares of LexCorp Subsidiaries

Even trapped within paralysis—

Luthor's pupils contracted violently.

The agreement demanded unconditional transfer of ownership rights for three specific LexCorp subsidiaries to an offshore shell company registered less than one hour earlier.

Miracle Medicine Holdings.

The requested companies were not ordinary assets.

They represented the deepest technological core of LexCorp itself.

LexCorp's alien reverse-engineering division.

Its extraterrestrial biological research laboratory.

And finally—

Warehouse Thirteen.

A secret installation disguised publicly as a logistics transit facility.

But internally—

One of Luthor's most dangerous black-technology storage sites.

Alien artifacts.

Experimental weapons.

Forbidden prototypes.

The technological backbone behind Lex Luthor's private war against gods.

And now—

This doctor intended to swallow all of it whole.

Rage exploded through Lex's consciousness instantly.

"You…"

His eyes became murderous.

"…dream."

Though the paralysis prevented proper speech—

The hatred inside his stare felt almost tangible.

Lynn ignored it completely.

"Mr. Luthor."

He tapped two fingers lightly against the tablet.

"It appears you still misunderstand the situation."

"The dormant agent inside your body operates in two phases."

"The first phase…"

Lynn glanced calmly toward the motionless body.

"…locks voluntary motor control."

"Turning you into a conscious statue."

Then his tone became colder.

Crueler.

"The second phase begins in approximately two hours."

"At that stage…"

"The agent will gradually assume control over autonomic nervous functions."

"Heartbeat."

"Blood pressure."

"Respiration."

"You will remain fully conscious while your lungs slowly forget how to breathe."

"And while your heart gradually forgets how to beat."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Even Lex Luthor—

A man who had manipulated gods and corporations alike—

Felt genuine terror.

Because he understood immediately.

This was not ordinary torture.

This was calculated existential horror.

A fully conscious death sentence.

"The antidote," Lynn continued calmly,

"has already been integrated into the fingerprint verification layer of this tablet."

He pointed toward the glowing confirmation button at the bottom of the agreement.

"As long as you confirm the transfer…"

"The antidote will enter your bloodstream transdermally."

"And every abnormal symptom will disappear immediately."

A slight pause.

"You have limited time to consider your options."

After speaking—

Lynn simply turned away and walked toward the backstage area calmly.

As though the transfer of a multibillion-dollar technological empire no longer interested him.

The clinic returned to silence.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The wall clock continued moving mercilessly.

Inside the prison of paralysis—

Lex Luthor's thoughts accelerated toward madness.

Resistance?

Meaningless.

Escape?

Impossible.

Even suicide remained beyond reach.

Begging?

The thought itself disgusted him.

He was Lex Luthor.

The man destined to stand above gods.

How could he kneel before some unknown doctor operating from a street clinic?

But then—

Fear resurfaced again.

Cold.

Primitive.

He did not want to die.

Not here.

Not like this.

Not before forcing Superman to kneel beneath humanity's superiority.

Humiliation.

Hatred.

Resentment.

Fear.

All emotions converged finally into one desperate instinct:

Survival.

Time passed slowly.

Perhaps ten minutes.

Perhaps thirty.

Then—

The complete paralysis loosened slightly.

Exactly according to Lynn's calculations.

Just enough mobility returned to permit one final action.

Nothing more.

Lex felt it immediately.

Using every fragment of willpower available—

He forced his right hand to move.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Like rusted machinery grinding against itself.

Sweat rolled down his forehead.

One centimeter.

Five.

Ten.

His trembling hand crawled gradually toward the glowing tablet that now determined whether Lex Luthor lived…

Or died.

Visit /ShiroTL for more chapters.