Chapter 124: The Evil Star-Lord

“Do you think this is justice, John?”

Peter crossed his arms over his chest, frowning as he spoke. “You’re gravely mistaken about one thing: I never told you to be a so-called righteous man, John.”

“Dad, huh?”

John looked up at Peter, his face full of unease.

He thought that saying something like this would definitely earn him a good beating.

“All I hope is that you don’t try to become a god.”

Peter gazed at the somewhat anxious John and said calmly, “Do you know the most important trait of a god, John?”

John shook his head in confusion.

“A god’s most defining trait is their disregard for human laws and rules. Since those things can’t restrain them, they do whatever they want.”

“John, will you become a god?”

Faced with Peter’s question, John firmly shook his head. “No, Dad, I won’t become a god.”

“Really?”

Peter paused for a moment before continuing. “Then imagine this scenario: You want to act justly and save people, but accidentally fail and harm innocent bystanders. When people criticize you, how would you feel? Or imagine you’re driving, and someone cuts you off, flips you the finger, and speeds away. What would you do?”

John thought hard about the question but couldn’t find a clear answer.

“Let me tell you, John. When faced with the crowd’s accusations, you might think these pesky flies are insufferable and want to eliminate them. When faced with the reckless driver, you might fly after him to teach him a lesson—or worse.”

Peter looked at him sternly. “And the reason you’d think that way is because you have no restrictions. You do whatever you want. You can be a good person or a bad person—it all depends on a single thought. You might even be a good person most of the time but turn bad occasionally just for fun.”

“No, Dad, I’d never be that kind of person,” John replied, his tone resolute.

“Do you think I’m accusing you? No, that’s just how ordinary people act when given superpowers.”

Peter glanced at Clark, who was eavesdropping nearby while pretending to work on the farm.

“You think what you’re doing is just, John, but that doesn’t matter. Justice is something you can define for yourself because human definitions of justice won’t apply to you.”

Peter placed a hand on John’s shoulder and said earnestly, “Do you think I’m angry because you killed two gang members? No, that’s not why I’m upset.”

Peter shook his head. “I just want you to understand one thing: don’t become a god—be human.”

John nodded firmly as he listened. “I get it, Dad. Gods recklessly place themselves above humanity and abuse their powers.”

Peter patted his shoulder with satisfaction. “Exactly, John. Humans are different from gods because they use their abilities for a cause, whether it’s law, morality, or a sense of responsibility.”

“Dad, I’m not a god. I’m human. My powers are meant to protect my family—to protect you,” John said with determination, his eyes shining. “Those fake FBI agents were a threat to you, which is why I did what I did.”

“Hmm, I know. That’s why I’m not punishing you. But next time, make sure to investigate thoroughly, don’t harm the innocent, and above all, don’t let anyone find out. That’ll only bring unnecessary trouble.”

Peter ruffled John’s hair with a satisfied smile.

John nodded heavily, his heart swelling with excitement at his father’s understanding.

To John, his dad’s advice to “investigate thoroughly” clearly meant leaving no loose ends. And “don’t get caught” meant he needed to eliminate all evidence of his actions!

John’s mind raced as he “interpreted” Peter’s words.

Peter, unaware of John’s twisted thought process, breathed a long sigh of relief after finishing his lecture.

He wasn’t angry that John had killed the two gang members—after all, his intention was to protect him. But Peter didn’t want to overly encourage such behavior, fearing John might turn into a ruthless monster.

That’s why he was trying to guide John toward becoming a “protector of the family.”

Meanwhile, Clark, who had overheard Peter and John’s conversation, was deep in thought.

Setting down the weed whacker, he looked at his hands.

Peter was right. One should strive to be human, not a god.

But why do I use my powers?

Unable to find an answer, Clark exhaled deeply and fell into silent contemplation.

“So, it really turned into a rabbit?”

Star-Lord stared incredulously at the bunny in Zatanna’s arms. “It changed from a doll into a rabbit?”

“Yes.”

Zatanna looked a bit embarrassed. “I suspect it’s some kind of magic from my father.”

Star-Lord raised an eyebrow. “Your family’s magic is unbelievable.”

After a quick glance around, he leaned closer and whispered, “Can you teach me that trick, Zatanna?”

Zatanna eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to learn such magic?”

“If I tell you, can you keep it a secret?”

“Of course.”

“Promise me.”

Seeing the serious expression on the little troublemaker’s face, Zatanna couldn’t help but chuckle. “I promise.”

Only after her promise did Star-Lord whisper, “I want to use that magic to turn John into a doll.”

“You want to turn your brother into a doll?”

Zatanna stared at Star-Lord in shock.

What kind of grudge do you two have?

“I don’t know that kind of magic,” Zatanna replied, rejecting him without hesitation.

This little rascal is far more evil than I imagined, she thought.

When his first request failed, Star-Lord proposed a second one.

“Then, do you know any magic that can make me lose weight?”

“You want to lose weight?”

“Yes, preferably without dieting. You know, all the diet methods say you have to eat less, but I can’t give up food—it’s too painful.”

Zatanna took a deep breath. “Sorry, I don’t know that kind of magic.”

Glancing down at her own figure, she felt relieved. Luckily, I don’t have a body that gains weight easily, she thought.

At noon, after lunch, Zatanna, who had packed her belongings, approached Peter reluctantly to say goodbye.

“Mr. Quill, I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“You’re leaving?” Peter asked, surprised.

“Yes. The Witch Queen has stolen my father’s key. I need to return home.”

“I see.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll take you back.”

Peter offered to escort her home, worried she might be ambushed by the Witch Queen on the way.

Hearing his offer, Zatanna’s eyes sparkled with delight.

“Thank you so much, sir!”

By evening, Peter had driven Zatanna to her home.

Looking at the villa standing in the twilight, Peter got out of the car.

“This is your house?”

“Yes, I haven’t been back in a long time.”

Zatanna, holding the rabbit, nervously approached the house.

Peter, intrigued by the rumored “secret house,” followed her inside.

Inside, Zatanna headed straight for her father’s room.

Finding it locked, she took a hairpin from her hair, twisted the wire, and picked the lock with practiced ease.

She’d learned the skill from her father when she was eight.

With a “click,” the lock turned, and Zatanna pushed the door open with a deep breath.

Entering her father’s long-abandoned workspace, she was greeted by piles of books and magic props.

Approaching the desk, Zatanna noticed a poster of her parents dressed as magicians, smiling at the camera.

“Mom was so beautiful, Berk,” she muttered to the rabbit. “But I don’t remember her looking like this. My only memories of her are when she was sick.”

She touched the poster wistfully.

“She once gave me a snow globe with a winter castle inside. I used to pretend she lived there, that she never really passed away.”

Zatanna shook her head at her childish thoughts, then put on a top hat from the desk.

“Odd. Dad never left for a show without this hat.”

Wiping away an unexpected tear, she was about to remove the hat when her eyes fell on some letters on the desk.

Picking them up, she read the contents in shock.

**“My dearest,
Thank you for telling me about our daughter.

I miss her deeply, but I know you’ve done your utmost without me.

Being a single parent is hard, especially raising a teenage girl, but I truly think you’ve done an amazing job.”**

Zatanna stared at the letter, dumbfounded.

This letter was written by her mother?!