Under the blinding spotlights of the film set.
Jordan stared at the endorsement fee that had just arrived in his mobile banking app, his smile practically splitting his face. A mold—that was all. Being poor for so long had made him quite indifferent to the portrait rights of his private parts.
"According to Ian's logic, as long as my mold achieves ten thousand 'kills,' it's the same as me being a legend. When I go to college, I won't just be loaded; I'll be able to talk big with my roommates." Jordan's thinking was avant-garde and transparent. He really needed the money—not just because his silicon-based "girlfriend" was expensive.
He also had a dream: to amass enough capital to lend money to Ian at high interest rates, finally reclaiming his dignity and masculine charm as Ian's second elder brother.
As Jordan fantasized about the future.
"Jordan! Prepare for the scene where Homelander drinks milk!" the director's shout came from afar. Jordan immediately dropped his daydreams and tossed his phone into a drawer.
"Coming, coming! Are you using my favorite flavored yogurt? No? Good thing I brought my own."
Jordan stood up, straightened his Homelander cape, took a deep breath, recalled his father's daily teachings, and re-entered the character.
He picked up the milk glass on the table and slowly brought it to his lips. His movements were elegant, his eyes deep, as if he weren't drinking milk, but the very hope of all America. Clearly, he had a unique method for getting into character.
"That soul-stirring gaze, that intoxicated aura—it's perfect!" The director clapped excitedly, and the assistant director gave a thumbs-up. Jordan's restrained acting gave them a profound sense of the comic character coming to life. The directors were full of praise for this lead actor who had supposedly entered through the back door.
Indeed, Oliver Queen—the man who had personally insisted on this kid for Homelander—had a keen eye. It was no wonder he was a billionaire; that level of insight was enough to make anyone submit.
*Buzz, buzz, buzz~*
The phone in the drawer was ringing.
However, Jordan was fully immersed in the role now, his lips curled in a slight smile as he accepted everyone's praise. He felt like he truly was that omnipotent, worshipped superhero. The Super Hearing of a second-generation Kryptonian was wide open, but he only heard the compliments, completely ignoring the phone vibrating frantically in the drawer.
...
Meanwhile, at the Demon Manor, Ian was fuming.
"Jordan's getting cocky! He dares to ignore Lord Ian's call! He better not let me catch him 'training his wrists' at home again!" Ian failed to find anyone to share his anxiety with. Frustrated, he stuffed half of his phone into the mouth of the demon Bael, who quickly pretended to chew.
In reality, Bael was just acting as a storage unit for the broken phone in its throat. Seeing Ian pacing back and forth in the drawing room, Doctor Hannibal drifted over, still unaware of what was happening.
"I'd like to go home and check on Misha. Perhaps you could come with me? She could prescribe you some anti-anxiety medication while we're at it." In Hannibal's eyes, Ian's condition hadn't improved even after learning about Ian's supernatural nature. In fact, Hannibal felt he had never seen anyone so terminally ill.
"Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow is Friday—a good day for medicine. I'll put you in a thermos and take you to school; it'll be a wonderful 'Red Tea' surprise for Miss Misha!"
"Honestly, if you have some patience and wait for Christmas, I'll put you in a gift box for her. That would be a heartwarming Christmas present she'd never forget." As Ian shared his Christmas plans with Hannibal, he grabbed a shovel and began digging a hole frantically in the back garden.
The hole grew deeper and deeper. Living corpses poked their heads out of the soil, looking at their master in confusion.
"If someone comes looking for me, say I'm dead."
"If it's my mom and dad and they're sad... tell them I'll resurrect promptly before school tomorrow." He dug himself a standard grave. Two meters long, one meter wide, 1.5 meters deep.
Facing the relentless pursuit of the Goddess of Creation and the bizarre antics of the Creator God, Ian was playing a literal ostrich. He tossed a Simmons mattress into the pit and lay down inside. He wove the unearthed living corpses together like yarn into a massive "corpse blanket."
"The blanket needs to be thick... it's getting cold tonight." He covered himself with the living corpses, planning to sleep until God and the Goddess made up.
[Ian Kent]
Cause of Death:Angry because he missed KFC's "Crazy Thursday."
Resurrection CD: TBD
Detail-oriented as ever, Ian even made himself a tombstone before commanding his demon butler and maid to bury him eighteen meters deep—or more. He hoped the magic sealing the Great Darkness would also help mask his presence from the Goddess of Creation.
*Whoosh, whoosh~*
The demon maids were busy. Hannibal, Baal, and the Lord of Lies drifted by the pit, falling into a weird silence. Even the demon head Baal, who wanted to kiss up to Ian, found his sycophancy couldn't keep up with Ian's level.
Indeed, Ian's realm had transcended the understanding of demons.
"Perfect."
Ian hid in the dirt, waiting for the time to cross into the Marvel Universe. However, fate had other plans. Outside the manor, Clark Kent—returning from Africa—descended slowly from the sky.
His red cape snapped in the wind. He immediately spotted the transparent ventilation tube connected to an oxygen tank sticking out of the grave. As Superman landed, the demon maids were holding hands and wailing according to Ian's script.
Clark, who monitored Ian for twenty-three hours and fifty minutes out of every twenty-four, was naturally not fooled. He had seen Ian burying himself with his own eyes. Even now, he could hear Ian's heartbeat and the boy's mutterings about "becoming spring mud to protect the flowers."
"Step aside."
Superman's voice was lower than the Arctic temperatures of the Fortress of Solitude. The demon maids trembled and scrambled off the "set."
Superman stepped forward and pinched the ventilation tube—a decorative My Little Pony straw. He waited ten minutes, but there was no reaction from Ian. Realizing something, Clark was forced to dig Ian out by hand. When he finally pulled him out, Ian was lying sprawled on the mattress, face flushed, playing a handheld game console.
He clearly didn't need to breathe.
"No!" Re-entering the light, Ian's face changed drastically.
Superman, expressionless, grabbed him by the back of the collar and took to the sky.
"Cruel Superman! How are you so practiced at grave robbing?!" Ian kicked his legs wildly like a reanimated corpse. Having failed his plan, he could only transfer his stubbornness to his tongue.
"Clark, you've got the wrong guy! I'm a clone created by Ian. The real Ian has fled to Namek! Go catch him!" When truly terrified, Ian's mouth became hard. He flailed his arms, trying to dive back into the dirt.
Facing the mess of God's family, he truly wanted to be a peaceful ostrich. However, Clark knew problems had to be solved, and Ian was the only one who could solve them.
It wasn't that Superman's Super Brain was overthinking; he was genuinely uneasy about matters involving God. During his shift in Africa today, he had been trying to figure out why God was pranking him. Finally, he realized it might be a warning. Years ago, God told the Archangel to give Ian to him to raise—could it be that Ian was the product of one of God's affairs?
Thinking this way, everything seemed to make sense. The Goddess of Creation wanting to sleep with Ian was clearly the ultimate revenge against God! A weak Superman like him could only choose to keep his mouth shut! As for how to discourage the Goddess, that was God's problem to solve.
Clark didn't dare reveal the truth that few knew. All he could do was give Ian a small hint.
"That goddess you mentioned... her current identity is your mother's friend. A new bestie." Clark's hint was meant to get Ian to just accept her as a godmother or foster mother.
However, the word bestie sounded like a high-level threat to the street-smart Ian.
"I knew she was up to no good! A mom's bestie is always the most venomous!" Seeing that Clark didn't seem to understand, Ian could only indignantly tell his dad to pay more attention to social news.
"So you admit you're Ian?"
Clark always caught Ian's logical loopholes. Ian froze. As he was carried further away by Clark, the three spectators in the manor remained drifting in place.
Hannibal, Baal, and the Lord of Lies were dumbfounded, watching Ian—kicking like an octopus—vanish into the distance.
"What's the situation?" Hannibal asked. Due to the bio-electric field that activated when Superman wore his suit, he didn't realize the Superman who took Ian was his friend Clark Kent.
"The invincible God Ian was captured again by his even more invincible old man," Baal whispered.
"Why did you use the word 'again'?" the Lord of Lies asked.
"You'll get used to it. It's a traditional Kryptonian family education, happening on average 1.8 times a week. You just need to remember: in times like this, all we can do is play dead..." Baal began sharing his survival tips, one Kent Family Rule after another.
"Rule One: Never take sides during a Kent family civil war. Rule Two: Never help God Ian insult his parents. Rule Three..." The rules Baal shared were experiences bought with blood and tears.
The Lord of Lies and Doctor Hannibal nodded repeatedly. They learned a lot.
...
The night was as dark as ink, and the stars hung low.
Ian was carried by Superman like a chick caught by an eagle, piercing the atmosphere in a rapid descent. The wind howled in his ears. He wanted to keep insisting he was a body double or a quantum clone, but seeing Clark's darkening face, he wisely shut up.
When Clark dropped him onto the brand-new lawn of the Kent house, Ian remained in the ostrich burying its head posture, looking like a wilted eggplant.
"Escapism isn't the way to solve problems, Ian," Clark taught him earnestly.
*Thud.*
Ian's feet finally hit the ground. The familiar scent of the courtyard hit him. This wasn't a ruin; it was a complete, brand-new, even grander Kent home. It wasn't much different from the house before it was first blown up. White walls and red tiles, as if it had never been destroyed. Even in the mortal realm, Lucifer's power could overwrite reality.
"Since you say that, Dad, why do I feel like your own legs don't dare step into our yard?" Ian looked down at Clark's legs, which seemed rooted to the spot. After hearing Ian's story, Clark was also a bit afraid to go in. Luckily, his super hearing saved him.
"There's trouble in the military district your grandfather is responsible for. You'll have to face this alone for now." Clark stood behind Ian, arms crossed, brow furrowed.
His gaze fell on the brightly lit living room window. Lois tumbled out of the window and rushed into Clark's arms, urging him on.
"Clark!" Lois Lane rushed out from the oak door, her auburn curls looking like a startled bird's nest. Her movement into her husband's arms was suspiciously exaggerated.
"Fly! Fly fast, Clark!" Lois's voice had the fluctuations of someone on their eighth bottle of wine. Clark unbuttoned his top shirt button as if his collar had suddenly become tight.
He was about to take off when Ian grabbed his belt. Superman skillfully abandoned the belt—such was the composure and decisiveness of the older generation of heroes.
"Wait, Dad, you're going to help with the disaster, so why are you carrying Mom away too?" Ian saw Lois in the yard fly up in Clark's arms.
"Because I have a father too, and I need to go check on him. Yes, that's right... Ian, it's time to stand on your own. Oh, right, your big brother is acting weird. Be careful." Lois showed her "motherly love" before urging Clark to flee. Ian was left alone.
The lonely boy swallowed as he stared at the restored house. It didn't feel like a home; it felt like a giant abyss ready to swallow him whole. Maybe Mom didn't think it was a big danger, but what did she and Dad know?
Approaching the house reshaped by Lucifer, Ian's throat tightened. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open cautiously. The living room was brightly lit and filled with a rich aroma. Five sets of cutlery were laid out on the table, and the crystal chandelier reflected a warm light.
In the living room, "Jonathan," wearing a high-end suit, was elegantly pouring red tea for Charlotte Richards. The straight-laced guy who usually wore his T-shirts backward was now behaving with the grace of a gentleman.
That wasn't his brother. That was God, wearing his brother's skin. This "big brother" wasn't human; he was the supreme being who had created countless universes and destroyed them with his own hands. Now, he was playing second fiddle to the Goddess of Creation in Jonathan's body, serving tea and water with pathetic humility.
Jonathan's soul was still there, quite peaceful, as if he had just lent his body—God must have paid a high price for the rental, Ian guessed.
"Miss Charlotte, you are truly radiant, like a rose in the dawn." God used Jonathan's face to give exaggerated compliments.
"Oh, you must be Ian's big brother. You're such a smooth talker!" Charlotte laughed before standing up. "I'll go check Ian's room."
"He must have been adorable as a child, right?" Charlotte Richards said as she went upstairs. Ian didn't know if she truly couldn't tell God was wearing a "skin," or if she just enjoyed role-playing games.
Ian knew this ordinary dinner was destined to be anything but. Meanwhile, in his system, the re-stitching of the Warhammer Universe continued. He checked his most useful "attachment."
[Warhammer Universe Repair Progress: 15%]
[God created the world in seven days; the system is repairing a destroyed world in seven.]
The progress didn't need Ian to round up. He hid behind the doorpost, his gaze toward "Jonathan" gaining a bit of backbone.
"Jonathan" noticed Ian but just shrugged before following Charlotte upstairs. He then found Charlotte performing some confusing actions.
"What are you doing?" "Jonathan" was bewildered.
Charlotte Richards was rolling around and rubbing herself all over Ian's bedroom. When she looked up at Jonathan, she was clutching a dinosaur plushie from Ian's childhood.
"I just watched Animal World. Those animals mark their territory with their scent when they're courting." Charlotte was wearing a star-studded deep blue gown today, currently performing confusing behavior with Ian's old dinosaur toy tucked under her arm. She really knew very little about the mortal world, mostly learning as she went.
"Oh, right, Jonathan, isn't it? What kind of pillow does Ian like? Does he have requirements for the material or appearance of these clothes I'm wearing?" The Goddess of Creation peeled back Ian's covers, seemingly thinking about hiding inside to surprise him tonight.
"..."
"Jonathan's" expression froze, his eyes nearly spitting fire. He turned his head, his gaze piercing through the walls to look directly at the front door downstairs—where Ian was standing frozen. Ian truly had super hearing; he could hear someone urinating kilometers away.
"I'm just a kid!" Ian's heart jumped. His invincible heart had shattered once again. He turned to flee, but the door wouldn't budge, as if welded shut.
"You can't do this!" Ian banged on the door. Lockpicking failed. Physical dismantling failed. It was as if a mysterious power had sealed him into this small space. Just as Ian was panicking and finding even the sewers blocked.
"Oh, right, Jonathan, do you know if that 'gas stove' thing in the kitchen can be moved to the bed? I heard African weaver birds collect shiny things when courting."
"Oh, your mom—my new friend Lois—why is she taking so long to buy groceries? I'll go check the door!" upstairs, Charlotte started shouting.
The woman was approaching the stairs. Ian was terrified, nearly jumping to the ceiling. As he looked around frantically, the sound of footsteps coming downstairs began. His super brain was working at high speed. The living room sofa seemed like the last refuge.
"There!" Ian performed a sliding tackle into the space under the sofa. He thought there would be plenty of room to hide, but his foot seemed to kick something soft.
Ian looked closely and nearly fumed!
"Dammit! Ian! It's occupied!" Lucifer pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his cheek, and stealthily raised a camera.
Perhaps Ian's brain was indeed god-level; it had chosen the same hiding spot as the second-greatest deity in the universe. But Ian wasn't happy about it.
"You... what are you doing here?!" Ian looked at Lucifer's curled, twisted posture and quickly distanced himself, hiding on the right side of the sofa.
"Collecting evidence!" Lucifer's eyes sparkled. "I'm going to photograph God's pathetic attempt to act human! Look at that hypocritical face! He was actually the first liar in the world!"
Still the same Lucifer who hated God to the bone.
Ian was speechless. He listened to Lucifer ramble on about God's crimes, while in the living room, "Jonathan" was still smiling as he served food to the Goddess.
How could God not know what was under the sofa? But what could he do? He could only distract her with food and praise for his ex-wife. However, Charlotte kept glancing at the stairs, seemingly wanting to go up and mark it again.
"I've prepared three trillion wedding dresses. I can play with Ian until the heat death of the universe..." The Goddess was cuckolding God to his face. God's fake smile might not last much longer.
Ian huddled under the sofa with Lucifer, listening to the absurd dialogue and smelling the dust mixed with the expensive cologne of the teeth-gritting Lucifer.
He suddenly realized something.
"Wait, Lucifer, your mom wants to sleep with me. How can you just be here taking photos? 'Mr. Dark Web,' is it?" Ian's mood was incredibly complex. He finally understood that mental illness must have been something created by God's family. Outside, the Old Creator was still trying hard.
"Charlotte, what kind of music do you like?" the "hacked" Jonathan asked with a perfectly fake smile. "Classical? Jazz? Or—"
Charlotte was leaning over the wine cabinet looking for glasses. Without looking back, she replied, "I like the sound of a racing heartbeat—like the sound little Ian makes when I'm chasing him—"
She couldn't go three sentences without mentioning Ian, which made him increasingly terrified.
And just then...
*BOOM—!!!*
A world-shaking explosion suddenly came from outside. The ground shook violently, glass rattled, and even the foundations groaned. That wasn't a normal bomb; it was a destruction-level energy burst capable of tearing continents and evaporating oceans.
Of course, it had only just begun to erupt. It shook the center of the explosion and was about to spread when "Jonathan"—God in his shell—frowned and looked out the window.
Taking advantage of Charlotte's distraction, his right hand rose silently under the table and pressed down toward the window. No light, no sound, no shockwave.
The explosion, capable of destroying the planet, was like a flame caught by an invisible giant hand. It collapsed inward, turned into a mass of twisted darkness, and then vanished into nothingness as if it had never happened.
Everything returned to calm.
"What was that?" Charlotte finally stood up, two wine glasses in hand, looking bewildered.
"Nothing," God-Jonathan said calmly, adjusting his sleeve. "Probably the neighbor's kid playing with firecrackers." He quipped casually.
In the entire house, only Ian was wide-eyed.
"What was that just now?!" Ian felt that terrifying cosmic energy wave and nearly bit his tongue. He whispered to Lucifer.
The all-knowing Lucifer didn't look back, continuing his [Mom and Dad Peeping Log].
"Someone is stealing Genesis."
"Yeah, it's that inspiration-recording device from when the old man outside was a writer. It's not important. Do you think the love potion I'm adding to the food will work?"
"I think so. They've bound themselves in mortal shells now; that's their greatest weakness." Lucifer continued his obsessive photography.
Few knew that in any parent's eyes, Lucifer was a bigger brat than Ian.
"Oh, right. The following scenes are not for minors. You can't watch." Lucifer rubbed Ian's eyelids, and a pitch-black blindfold appeared on Ian's face.
Ian stared at the blindfold. His mind was blank. "Did you forget I still have ears?"
After reminding Lucifer, Ian regretted it. At this moment, Ian—who felt he should be sitting on the sofa watching TV, not under it with Lucifer—truly wanted to emigrate the whole family to Marvel.
In the living room, "Jonathan" was still gently pouring wine for Charlotte, but his gaze swept through the window toward the erased explosion ruins on the outskirts of the city. He knew someone was coveting Genesis, and Genesis had been out for a long time.
But the Lord did not care.
...
The night wind howled. Superman, carrying Lois, was like a red meteor streaking across the sky. Behind them was the brightly lit but turbulent home.
The wind blew Lois's hair. She looked up at her husband's tight jawline, the dizziness from the alcohol fading.
"Will Ian... really be okay?" she asked softly.
"God will protect him." Clark's gaze remained locked on the distance. He thought of his previous terrifying guess but didn't dare share it.
"So... the person in Jonathan's body is God, right?" Lois was sober now, her voice trembling. "If he and Ian fight... what happens? Ian is mischievous, but he's our child... and he didn't do anything wrong."
"Even if Ian accidentally provoked that goddess, God must be pulling the strings. Every coincidence in the world is his careful arrangement, isn't it?" Lois was clearly protective of Ian, and her words made sense.
Clark felt a pang in his heart. How could he not know this? Ian was absurd, but his eyes always held human warmth. And God, that supreme being, acted entirely on will without motive. If a conflict broke out, Ian wouldn't even have ashes left.
Of course, if that guess was true, Ian was safer than anyone.
"Don't worry," Clark said lowly. His voice held a trace of hidden unease. "I'm keeping an eye on it. If things get out of control, I'll be there immediately."
He knew the words were empty. Before the Creator, his super strength, hearing, and heat vision wouldn't even count as a tickle. He had punched asteroids, but God only needed a thought to return the universe to nothingness.
Lois knew her husband too well—she knew how much powerlessness was hidden behind "immediately." When the opponent is the Creator, what could even a Man of Steel change? She sighed and leaned back against that broad chest, listening to the two hearts beating inside.
"I believe you."
"Yeah." Clark nodded firmly. If God wouldn't protect Ian, then he would have to. It wasn't a choice.
"But I still hope they have a good conversation." Clark thought his previous guess was highly likely, which was why he left the home to Ian and the couple. At this moment, his wife's trust was like a warm current. Clark took a deep breath and sped toward the military district.
When they landed before Sam Lane's headquarters, the scene was breathtaking. The former military stronghold was in ruins. Steel was twisted, concrete shattered, and the air smelled of ozone and rotting flesh. Soldiers moved like ants among the debris, clearing the remains of monsters—claws, acidic pools, and unrecognizable alien tissues.
The base looked like a cake eaten by a giant beast. When Superman landed, Sam Lane was standing on a wrecked tank directing the rescue.
"Over there! Dammit, a $160,000 shovel is this useless? We top brass only took $100,000 in kickbacks! The remaining $60,000 should have all gone into the alloy work!" The old general's white hair looked like a flare. Seeing Superman, he jumped off the tank.
"You're here." Sam Lane's boot crushed a piece of slimy concrete. He glanced at his masked daughter before looking seriously at Superman.
"What's with the monsters appearing and disappearing? I thought you were testing holographic tech." Clark shared what he'd seen. That was why he hadn't rushed. The disaster had appeared and vanished in the blink of an eye.
"We don't know the specifics. After the lab lost control, I thought the world was ending. I was about to call you when a flash of light absorbed the hazardous materials." Sam pulled an encrypted USB drive from his chest and plugged it into a terminal, pulling up surveillance.
"The camera caught a woman. She was sitting on a chair the whole time, but no one saw her. Even this footage seems to have appeared out of nowhere." He handed the laptop to Clark and Lois.
In the footage, a woman in a white veil sat quietly under an oak tree amidst the ruins. She wore a floor-length gown, flickering like something unreal from a painting. When the monsters swarmed out, she stood up as if she had been waiting for this moment. She held up a blurry object—and all the monsters vanished as if swallowed by a black hole. They didn't even have time to scream. Then, she closed her umbrella and walked away.
"This footage... was discovered after the fact," Sam Lane said, his voice tight. "No one saw her! Not even the sentries!"
"And... the file creation time for this recording is later than the disaster, yet it recorded things from before it happened." Sam's tone held a hint of horror. Someone who shouldn't exist appearing in footage that shouldn't exist. It was enough to make anyone's spine cold.
"The footage appeared later? She wanted you to see this." Superman's pupils dilated. He watched the footage several times.
"This woman is quite beautiful," Lois noted, the alcohol still giving her some boldness to praise the stranger's figure.
"She's looking for something... but didn't find it..." Superman's super brain worked fast. He noticed she hadn't acted immediately. She had waited until all the monsters appeared, and only when she didn't find what she wanted did she use the mysterious object. Then she vanished into the jungle like a ghost.
"Can you find her?" Sam Lane asked. The items in that lab were valuable property; if they weren't recovered, it wasn't just a matter of accountability.
"I'll try." Clark didn't give a definitive answer. He looked around and activated his super vision. His sight pierced through miles of dust, scanning every inch of earth and shadow. It extended hundreds of miles, over wilderness, rivers, and mountains. Like an invisible net, his vision covered most of the Earth.
"Not in America, not in North America... Found you!" Clark's vision pierced through buildings, over deserts and oceans, finally locking onto the banks of the Nile. The veiled woman was holding her palm open, a ball of chaotic light spinning there. A bald man was kneeling on one knee, his lips moving as if reciting an oath.
Clark was about to use super hearing to listen to her thoughts and judge if she was a friend or foe. But at that moment, the woman seemed to feel the gaze.
She turned her head.
Time seemed to freeze. She didn't look toward the wilderness or the sky. She looked directly into Clark's eyes. Despite the distance—Clark in Metropolis, she in Egypt—her gaze locked onto him precisely.
In Superman's pupils, her face was reflected. Under the veil were golden eyes—not normal superhuman eyes. Clark felt a vastness like history and time themselves.
He saw the megaliths of civilization being built by invisible hands, stars born and dying in the void, the rise and fall of countless lives. Just as his biological instinct began to scream in warning, the woman tilted her head.
Then, Clark felt the world spin. The ground beneath him vanished. The base, Lois, and Sam Lane all faded like pencil drawings erased by an eraser. In their place was an endless gray-white mist, flowing around him like a living thing. Even heat vision couldn't disperse it.
"I can feel you have no malice. Who are you?" Superman floated in this mist of consciousness, radiating solar light, yet it could only light up a tiny space around him. "Where is this?"
A rustling sound like silk came from the depths of the mist. A white figure flickered. The voice was like an echo seeping through the cracks of time.
"I am the last note in a forgotten lullaby..."
Clark spun around. A pale hand reached from the mist, fingers grazing his cape.
"I am the burning ember on the edge of a history page." Another voice dropped from above. Superman looked up to see the hem of a veil falling like an inverted waterfall.
"And, I am the echo that walked out of a young boy's dream... the Time Lord who will accompany you to the very end." This time the voice was right in his ear.
Clark's super speed moved him ten meters instantly, but he couldn't create distance—the woman stood right before his nose, her breath calm.
"You may call me..." She raised her hand, a shifting ball of light at her fingertip. "Paradox."
That finger gently tapped Clark's forehead. Upon contact, his memories surged like film—the wheat fields of Kansas grew backward, and the Fortress of Solitude retreated toward the stars. Even the fire of Krypton's explosion gathered back into the core.
"Wait—"
Clark fell backward into a collapsing starfield. The last thing he saw was the woman calling herself Paradox withdrawing her finger, the corners of her mouth curling up under the veil.
That curve was exactly like Ian's smile when a prank had succeeded.