At the same time, in the depths of a distant ocean, lay a mist-shrouded island.
Themyscira.
It was no longer a paradise on Earth.
A tall figure, wearing a menacing horned helmet and wielding a massive axe, effortlessly struck down brave Amazonian warriors, as if cutting down melons.
Their screams and blood could not halt the unwelcome guest's advance.
Amidst the chaos and lament, the towering figure seized a cube emanating strange energy, then a red light shot skyward, carrying the figure away.
Only a ravaged island remained, and the endless grief of the survivors.
Kent Farm, rooftop.
Kara looked at Tel-El, who had suddenly fallen silent beside her, his gaze fixed sternly on the distant sky.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
Kara curiously leaned closer, following his gaze, but saw only an empty blue sky.
"What are you spacing out about?"
Tel-El sensed the violent and chaotic aura, which came and went quickly through some kind of spatial passage.
He withdrew his gaze and turned to Kara, a playful smile returning to his face.
"Nothing."
"I just feel like a big show is about to begin."
With that, he flipped over, lightly dropping from the rooftop, hands in his pockets, and whistling as he walked back inside.
Leaving Kara alone on the rooftop, full of questions.
What kind of riddle was this guy speaking?
The next day, early morning.
The roar of an engine broke the farm's tranquility.
A sleek black Quinjet slowly descended onto the land in front of the Kent home, its airflow making the surrounding grass sway wildly.
Clark had just returned from working in the fields, still wearing his dirt-stained work clothes, a wrench in his hand.
He looked at the group of people disembarking from the aircraft, a little bewildered.
Leading them was a man in a bespoke suit, looking undeniably wealthy—Bruce Wayne.
Beside him was a woman of breathtaking beauty.
She wore an elegant gown, her black curly hair pulled back, her features as exquisite as an ancient Greek sculpture, her demeanor noble yet heroic.
Kara was sunny and sweet, like a little sun in the neighborhood.
This woman, however, was like the moon in the sky—cool, noble, and someone to be admired from afar.
Behind the woman followed several others.
A burly, tattooed man with a full beard, exuding a wild aura.
A young man in a red bodysuit, looking very nervous, his eyes darting everywhere.
And a young Black man in a grey hoodie, wearing the hood up, covering himself tightly, as if he didn't want anyone to see his face.
"What's wrong?"
Clark put down the wrench, looking puzzled at his suddenly visiting "teammates."
"Something happened, Clark."
Diana Prince spoke first.
Her voice was clear yet grave, as she explained the invasion of Themyscira and how a fellow named Steppenwolf had stolen the Mother Box.
Kara, hearing the commotion, came out of the house and stood beside Clark.
Just as Diana was about to continue, her voice suddenly stopped.
Not just her, but Bruce, Aquaman Arthur, Flash Barry, and Cyborg Victor—everyone's gaze passed over Clark and landed on the doorway behind him.
Tel-El stood there, leaning against the doorframe, wearing his floral shirt and shorts, flip-flops on his feet.
He held a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice from Aunt Martha, taking a leisurely sip.
"Why are you all looking at me like that?"
He smacked his lips, an innocent expression on his face.
"I didn't tell my cousin about what happened on Themyscira, you know."
"That's not a spoiler, right?"
That one sentence changed the expressions of everyone present, except Clark and Kara.
Diana's expression was the most dramatic, shifting from shock to anger in just one second.
This had happened less than ten hours ago!
How did this man know?
And judging by his demeanor, it seemed he had known all along!
"You knew?!"
Diana's voice rose several octaves, filled with barely suppressed fury.
"Then why didn't you help?!"
Hearing this, Tel-El gave a "what are you talking about" look.
"I'm saying, Immortal Sister, you're all so strange."
He shrugged, his expression utterly matter-of-fact.
"If I had really gone there, and accidentally made too much of a fuss, flattening that Themyscira, would you all then drag me into meetings and try to impose some kind of agreement on me?"
"I don't want to hear you guys lecture me again."
Diana was so flustered by his twisted logic that she couldn't utter a word.
Her chest heaved violently, clearly indicating her immense anger.
She had also followed the Sokovia incident—a country simply vanished.
If he had truly gone to Themyscira... the consequences, she dared not imagine.
Clark frowned, walking up to Tel-El, his tone a mix of confusion and reproach.
"Tel, even if you didn't go, you should have told me."
"I..."
"'I' what 'I'?"
Tel-El interrupted him directly.
"Cousin, use your kind brain and think about it."
He stirred the orange juice in his glass with a straw.
"Even if I told you immediately, by the time you changed your clothes, struck a pose, and then 'whoosh' flew over there."
"Guess what?"
"They'd already be back home for dinner."
Clark opened his mouth, finding himself unable to refute.
Indeed, since the opponent could infiltrate the isolated Themyscira without anyone knowing.
By the time he arrived, it would be too late.
"You!"
Diana pointed at Tel-El, too angry to speak.
Bruce, beside her, pressed her hand and shook his head.
Bruce's gaze had never left Tel-El, his deep eyes filled with analysis and vigilance.
He had raised this man's danger level by several notches.
Not only did he possess the power to destroy civilizations, but he also had some unknown ability to acquire information, and most troublesome of all, his behavior was completely unpredictable.
"Hey, little bro."
Tel-El ignored those who were glaring daggers at him, instead looking with interest at Barry Allen, who was so nervous he was almost tripping over his own feet.
"Don't be nervous, we're all so familiar with each other now."
He swirled the glass in his hand.
"Want some juice to calm your nerves? Aunt Martha's brand, all-natural, no additives, sweeter than first love."
Barry Allen shivered all over.
He looked at Tel-El, then at Bruce, whose face was as black as a pot bottom, and waved his hands frantically.
"No… no thank you."
The burly man named Arthur impatiently snorted, muttering.
"We came for help, not to listen to him tell jokes."
Tel-El heard him and raised an eyebrow.
"What, not satisfied with what I'm saying?"
He grinned.
"How about we spar? I'll even let you have one hand."
Arthur's temper flared instantly, and just as he was about to erupt, Bruce's gaze suppressed him.
"Alright."
Aunt Martha's voice came from inside the house.
She carried a plate of freshly baked cookies, a kind smile on her face.
"Don't just stand at the door, children."
"Whatever it is, come inside and sit down to talk."
"I baked cookies, everyone come and try some."
Looking at the kind Martha and her fragrant cookies, these powerful individuals, capable of shaking the world, all simmered down.
The atmosphere instantly shifted from "Justice League assembling" to "neighbors dropping by."
Bruce rubbed his temples, feeling that this recruitment had gone off track from the very beginning.