Luke felt more awe than joy towards the Green Flame.
If Kryptonians represented the physical peak in the DC universe, then the Green Flame was the limit of the soul; Luke had never seen anyone last three seconds against its attacks.
If it were merely a superpower, that would be one thing—at least its origin could be traced. Unfortunately, it wasn't.
Luke didn't know how this thing came to be, or what its purpose was. Although he could skillfully control it, he often kept a respectful distance.
There was no other way; it was simply too terrifying, a bane to all organic life forms.
As Violon's soul turned into fuel, all her memories became a part of Luke's body.
Luke had no interest in prying into other people's lives. After obtaining the necessary scientific knowledge, he shifted his focus to the scenes just before Violon's death: a short man, with a large head, bald, eyes half-closed, and an indifferent expression… Luke picked up a pencil and sketched the face from his memory onto a piece of paper.
"Ava, find this person."
Soon, a personal file appeared on the virtual screen.
"Hector Hammond, thirty-three years old, graduated from Harvard University, a professor of cell biology. His father, Adam Hammond, is a Democratic congressman, a former mayor of Coast City, and currently serves in the Department of Defense."
In addition to the main information, the file also detailed Hector Hammond's personal habits, hobbies, childhood experiences, youth experiences, financial status, social status, and so on.
Luke read through it carefully, then set the matter aside.
No matter what Hector turned into—Parallax or some other monster—it had nothing to do with him. He had more important matters to attend to now.
Everyone harbors an obsession in their heart, and even if the soul dies, the obsession does not disappear. Violon was no exception; as her soul was devoured by Luke, the obsession buried deep within her became a thorny problem Luke had to deal with.
Zamarron is different from Earth; it is an absolute matriarchal society. There, women are in charge, and men are merely tools for providing sperm. Their numbers are also few, less than 5% of the total population.
You read that right. Among a hundred Zamarronians, there are only five men. On average, one man has to deal with twenty women. Doesn't that sound very blissful? Isn't that something to aspire to?
Unfortunately, the gap between ideal and reality is like the difference between an internet celebrity and Sister Feng. In Zamarronian society, same-sex relationships are mainstream, and heterosexual relationships are merely a substitute process used for reproduction during specific periods. In some tribes, heterosexuality is even labeled as vulgar and scorned by everyone.
Zamarronian men spend their entire lives unable to find a heterosexual partner, only to embark on a path of endless debauchery.
Violon's lover was a woman, and like her, a member of the Star Sapphire Corps. During a mission, they were ambushed, and her lover's body was destroyed, leaving only half of her head.
Violon couldn't accept her beloved's departure, so she transformed the half-head into something akin to a supercomputer, hoping to revive her in some way in the future.
This behavior was taboo on Zamarron, absolutely forbidden.
Knowing she couldn't hide it for long, Violon volunteered to take her lover's head and travel to other star systems to search for the Queen's successor.
"Lover? Resurrection?"
Luke shook his head, returned to the second floor, and opened the secret compartment of the metal sphere.
He took out a well-preserved cultivation tank.
"This is your obsession?"
Looking at the half-head submerged in green liquid, Luke was speechless.
Resurrection?
Are you kidding? With half a head left and no memories, how could she be resurrected? Even with cloning technology, what would be created would be someone else.
If she wasn't resurrected, that obsession would linger in his mind, keeping him from sleeping.
"This is troublesome."
Luke scratched his head, a headache brewing… Inside the FBI's Coast City field office, Steven Martin, leaning back in his chair after a busy day, felt a throbbing headache remembering the day's events.
The meteorite case still had no leads, and now there was a mummified corpse case.
The police department were all incompetent fools; unable to solve cases themselves, they just dumped them on the FBI, treating it like a crisis center.
"Useless, all useless!"
Steven kicked his chair away, hands on his hips, visibly agitated.
His subordinate whispered, "Boss, headquarters personnel have arrived."
Steven nodded, straightened his clothes, and led a few subordinates to the conference room on the fourth floor.
Pushing open the door, he saw an unexpected figure.
"Amanda Waller?"
Amanda calmly extended her right hand, "Hello."
Steven didn't shake her hand, his gaze directed towards the head of the conference table, at the white-haired old man wearing gold-rimmed glasses. The old man, named Walker Terrence, was a high-ranking FBI official, one of the current director's three main assistants, primarily responsible for liaison and security work in several western states.
"Sir, if I'm not mistaken, today is an internal meeting."
Walker said silently, "Amanda has a special investigative order from the White House."
Steven said nothing more, taking his seat. Amanda sat opposite him.
After everyone was seated, Walker slowly began,
"Today's meeting will primarily discuss two points: first, the meteorite case; second, the mummified corpse case."
"Steven, you go first."
Steven glanced at Amanda Waller, walked to the computer, and sent all the collected intelligence—including witness statements, crime scene photos, post-event analysis, and case deductions—to the screen. All the information coalesced into two photographs.
One was Luke, the other was Carol Ferris.
Amanda said in a deep voice, "It seems our targets are consistent."
With that, she took out several documents and handed them to the key FBI personnel.
After reading the contents of the documents, Steven's brows furrowed.
"Regarding Carol Ferris being the Star Sapphire, we only suspect it; we have no evidence. Do you?"
"No."
Steven sneered, "You dare to make such a deduction without evidence? Heh, still the same as before."
"Reasonable deductions will eventually become reality."
Amanda's reply was as direct and to the point as her methods.
Vogel closed the file. "Carol Ferris is the only daughter of Carl Ferris, chairman of Ferris Aircraft. She currently serves as the company's executive director. Ferris Aircraft has close ties with the Department of Defense. To apprehend her, there must be irrefutable evidence proving she caused the meteorite incident." He paused, then added sternly, "Without evidence, we cannot act."
Amanda remained silent for a moment, then said, "Her boyfriend, Luke Shaw, is a good point of entry."
Upon hearing this, Steven let out a strange laugh. Not just him, but the other FBI agents in the room also grinned, letting out merciless snickers.
Amanda's expression turned somewhat grim.
"If you all have complaints about me, say them directly. There's no need to direct your laughter at a Black woman who is willing to sacrifice her life for her country."
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