"So they've all..." Martha's voice trailed off as she gently stroked Clark's back, her maternal instincts sensing his emotional turmoil.
Clark was already in his twenties, finally old enough to learn the truth about his origins. But instead of answers bringing peace, the revelation that he was the last surviving member of an entire species had left him struggling with a profound sense of isolation.
All the Kryptonians had perished when their planet exploded, including Clark's biological parents, Jor-El and Lara. He was truly alone in the universe—the final remnant of a dead civilization.
"It's okay," Clark said softly, though his voice carried the weight of newfound grief. "Compared to them, you two are my real parents. And at least now I know I wasn't abandoned, right? They sent me away because they loved me enough to give me a chance at life."
"That's right," Jonathan said firmly, placing a weathered hand on Clark's shoulder. "You're not just their child—you're ours too. They may not be here anymore, but we'll love you for both families. You'll always have a home with us."
Despite being Clark's adoptive parents, Jonathan and Martha had never treated him as anything less than their own flesh and blood. Their love for him was absolute and unconditional.
"By the way," Martha asked gently, "do you want to use your birth name? It's the only direct connection you have left to your biological parents."
Clark considered the question seriously before shaking his head. "No, I don't think so. Like you've always told me, I grew up on Earth. I am an Earthling, not a Kryptonian."
Although Kryptonian blood flowed through his veins, Clark had never felt truly alien. Earth was his home, humanity was his people, and he had no desire to separate himself from the world that had raised him.
"Kal-El is who I was on Krypton," Clark continued with growing conviction. "But Clark is who I am on Earth. That's not going to change."
Jonathan and Martha exchanged a glance of quiet pride. Their son had grown into a remarkable man with a clear sense of identity and belonging.
Suddenly, Clark's head snapped toward the front door, his enhanced hearing picking up something the others couldn't detect.
"What's wrong?" Martha asked with concern.
"I... I hear something unusual," Clark said, his eyes beginning to glow faintly as his X-ray vision activated automatically. Through the wooden door and exterior walls, he could see a figure approaching—someone he never expected to see again.
"Is that... him?" Clark breathed in amazement.
"Who?" Jonathan and Martha looked confused, unable to see what had captured their son's attention.
Outside, Marcus paused with his hand raised to knock as he noticed Clark's penetrating gaze. A familiar smile crossed his face.
"Clark," he called out with gentle amusement, "it might be dangerous if you keep staring at me like that."
With that, Marcus simply pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The moment he entered, Martha and Jonathan froze in shock. After more than twenty years, they were seeing Marcus again—and he looked exactly the same as the day he'd left.
"You're finally back!" Jonathan exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin as he rose from his chair with arms outstretched.
Marcus accepted the embrace warmly, feeling the genuine affection of an old friend. Two decades had passed, but the bond between them remained strong.
After stepping back, Jonathan looked Marcus up and down with raised eyebrows. "You haven't aged a day, you know that? When we first met, you looked exactly like this. How is that even possible?"
"Maybe I take really good care of myself?" Marcus replied with a grin.
He turned to Martha, noting the lines that time had etched around her eyes and the silver threads in her hair. She had aged gracefully, but the passage of years was clearly visible.
Marcus was genuinely surprised to find Jonathan still alive. In many timelines, the man died heroically but tragically in a tornado while Clark was still learning to control his powers. Seeing his old friend healthy and whole was a gift he hadn't expected.
Finally, Marcus looked at Clark—no longer the awkward teenager he remembered, but a powerful man who had grown into his extraordinary heritage.
"Well, Clark," Marcus said with approval, "it looks like you finally achieved your dream."
Marcus still remembered Clark's childhood fascination with flight, his desperate desire to soar through the skies like the birds he watched from his bedroom window. Based on the confident way Clark carried himself now, that dream had definitely been realized.
"Yes, I can fly now, Godfather," Clark said happily, his face lighting up with the enthusiasm Marcus remembered. "But there's something important I need to tell you about."
Clark proceeded to explain everything he'd learned about his origins—the destroyed planet, the advanced technology, the final message from his birth parents. It was a story of loss and survival, of a civilization's end and one child's new beginning.
But when Clark finished his account, Marcus didn't show the surprise or sympathy the others expected. Instead, he studied Clark with a serious expression.
"Clark," Marcus said carefully, "do you think you're the only Kryptonian left in the universe?"
The question hit like a thunderbolt. Clark, Jonathan, and Martha all fell silent as the implications sank in.
"Krypton was a civilization capable of interstellar travel," Marcus continued. "The planet's destruction certainly eliminated the Kryptonian homeworld and most of its population. But can you guarantee that no Kryptonians were scattered elsewhere in the galaxy when the explosion occurred?"
Clark stared at him in stunned silence. The possibility had never occurred to him. Jor-El's holographic message had painted such a complete picture of catastrophe that the idea of other survivors seemed impossible.
"Don't look so shocked," Marcus said with a gentle wave of his hand. "The universe is vast beyond imagination. In a cosmos that large, almost anything is possible. There are definitely other Kryptonian survivors out there—you shouldn't be surprised by that."
The revelation was overwhelming. Clark had just come to terms with being the last of his kind, only to learn that he might have living relatives somewhere among the stars.
Marcus settled into a chair and helped himself to some nuts from a bowl on the coffee table, giving the family time to process this new information.
He knew the timeline well. When Clark had activated the Kryptonian scout ship, it would have sent out a distinctive signal—a beacon that would be recognizable to anyone with Kryptonian technology. That signal would eventually reach the Phantom Zone, where General Zod and his followers had been imprisoned for decades.
Zod wouldn't be coming to Earth for a happy reunion. The general was a military fanatic who viewed Clark as either a resource to be exploited or a threat to be eliminated. He would want to extract the Codex of Life that had been encoded into Clark's cells—the complete genetic template of the entire Kryptonian species.
The Codex was Krypton's most precious treasure, containing the biological information needed to rebuild their civilization. But it also represented a fundamental philosophical divide: while most Kryptonians were genetically programmed for specific roles in society, Clark had been given the freedom to choose his own path.
General Zod was designed to be a warrior and leader. Others were predetermined to be scientists, workers, or administrators. It was an efficient system that had served Krypton well, but it came at the cost of individual freedom.
Clark was different—unique. With the complete Codex in his DNA, he had unlimited potential. He could become anything he chose to be.
After several minutes of stunned silence, the Kent family gradually returned to the present.
"This is... a lot to take in," Jonathan said slowly. "If there are other Kryptonians out there, and they come to Earth..."
"We wouldn't stand a chance," Martha finished quietly. "If they're anything like Clark..."
The implications were terrifying. Clark's powers were already beyond anything Earth's military could handle. An entire group of beings with similar abilities could conquer the planet without breaking a sweat.
Seeing their worried expressions, Marcus tapped the table to get their attention.
"You don't need to panic," he said reassuringly. "Clark is powerful, but that doesn't mean all Kryptonians automatically have the same abilities. Remember what Clark was like when he first arrived on Earth?"
Marcus popped a cashew into his mouth before continuing. "When you pulled baby Clark out of that ship, he was more fragile than a normal human infant. His powers only developed gradually as he grew up under Earth's yellow sun."
Understanding began to dawn on their faces as Marcus guided them through the logic.
"Jor-El's message didn't mention anything about Kryptonians having superpowers, did it?" Marcus continued. "That's because on Krypton, they didn't. The powers Clark developed are a result of Earth's unique environment."
The family's relief was palpable as they grasped the implications. If other Kryptonians came to Earth, they might have advanced technology and superior knowledge, but they wouldn't necessarily possess Clark's superhuman abilities.
Marcus chuckled and shook his head, knowing their reasoning was both correct and incorrect. Kryptonians could indeed develop powers under a yellow sun, but most had never discovered this because Krypton's red sun and the planet's unique mineral composition had suppressed their abilities for millennia.
Moreover, when Kryptonians traveled to other worlds, they typically brought environmental suits and life support systems that contained trace amounts of Kryptonian materials—substances that would continue to inhibit their powers even under a yellow sun.
Clark was unique because he'd been raised from infancy in Earth's environment without any of those limiting factors.
"Enough serious talk for now," Marcus said, changing the subject with a smile. "I've been away for more than twenty years, and it's wonderful to see everyone doing so well."
He turned his attention to Clark specifically. "Since we haven't seen each other in so long, this seems like the perfect opportunity to test how your Crushing Ruin technique has progressed."
Before anyone could respond, the entire group found themselves instantly transported outside the farmhouse.
"Come on," Marcus encouraged, "show me what you've learned."
Clark looked uncomfortable. "Godfather, my strength has grown so much that I haven't been able to practice properly in years. If I use the Crushing Ruin at full power, I might destroy the entire farm."
"Don't worry about that," Marcus replied with confidence. "You can't destroy anything here."
As he spoke, the space around them began to shift and twist like a kaleidoscope. The familiar farm landscape disappeared, replaced by something that looked similar but felt fundamentally different.
"Where are we?" Jonathan asked in amazement.
"This is the Mirror Dimension," Marcus explained. "If you can actually destroy this space, then you won't need to worry about facing any unbeatable enemies."
Marcus was confident in the Mirror Dimension's stability. While Clark was certainly powerful by Earth standards, he hadn't yet reached the level of cosmic entities like the Fire King. Even that dimensional ruler had been helpless against the Mirror Dimension's properties.
Clark felt a surge of excitement as he realized he could finally practice without restraint. Ever since his strength had begun growing exponentially, he'd been forced to hold back constantly, never able to truly test his limits.
"I'm going to start," Clark warned everyone. "Please be careful."
His entire demeanor changed as he settled into the fighting stance Marcus had taught him years ago. Then he began the first technique of the Crushing Ruin style.
Rolling Gale
Clark's fists became a blur of motion, moving so fast they created visible afterimages. The air around him began to roar as his punches generated tremendous wind pressure, creating a localized storm that would have leveled buildings in the real world.
But they were safely contained within the Mirror Dimension. The observers felt the powerful gusts of wind but saw no environmental damage whatsoever.
Encouraged by the stability of their training space, Clark continued through the complete Crushing Ruin routine. Each technique flowed into the next with increasing confidence and precision. Moves that had felt awkward and uncertain gradually became smooth and natural as Clark rediscovered his connection to the martial art.
By the time he completed the full sequence, Clark's control over his own strength had improved dramatically. The mental discipline required to perform the techniques had helped him achieve a level of precision he'd been lacking.
"Excellent," Marcus said with genuine approval. "It's clear you've mastered your abilities quite well."
As an orphan of Krypton, Clark possessed incredible natural gifts that far exceeded human limitations. But raw power alone wasn't enough to make someone a true fighter.
"Your superhuman abilities are impressive," Marcus continued, "but have you ever considered what you'd do if those powers were suppressed or temporarily unavailable?"
As he spoke, Marcus released a pulse of Void energy that enveloped Clark's entire body.
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