[Third Person's PoV]
A heavy silence blanketed the room, tense and unmoving, before it was abruptly broken by General Kenzo. With practiced precision, he lifted the radio to his mouth and issued a stern order, "What about his abilities? Ask him about his abilities."
Sayori hesitated. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again as the weight of the question hit her. It wasn't easy to discuss the topic about abilities after what she had just heard—or even understood. She pressed her lips into a thin line, exhaling quietly through her nose. Despite the unease tightening in her chest, she reminded herself of her duty.
"You mentioned having the ability to hear voices from across the world," Sayori began, her voice steady but edged with cautious curiosity. "That implies your senses are heightened far beyond the normal threshold. So we need to know—what else can you do? Aside from what's already been observed—superhuman strength, speed, invulnerability, super breath capable of generating powerful winds and frost, heat vision... the list is already staggering." Her tone sharpened slightly, though still respectful. "What are the full extent of your powers? What are your limits, if any? And more importantly—how exactly do they work?"
Clark tilted his head back slightly and laughed. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but more of amused disbelief. He hunched forward, eyes narrowing playfully. "You seriously expect me to answer that?" he asked, still chuckling. "Sorry, but for your safety and my own... I'm not about to reveal the full nature of my powers. You can speculate all you want—form your theories, build your assumptions. But the truth? That stays with me."
"Try to get him to talk," General Kenzo muttered into the radio again, more insistently this time.
Clark rolled his eyes in full view of the room. He could hear every word perfectly, of course. The General didn't seem to care—or perhaps didn't think Clark would mind being treated like an experiment under a microscope.
'How annoying,' Clark thought. 'Though, to be fair, I understand the curiosity. Even I'm still adjusting to the changes. This universe operates on a completely different set of rules compared to DC. In the DC universe, my powers would have been almost entirely the product of my Kryptonian biology absorbing solar radiation.
But here... things are different. The very laws that govern energy, matter, and life are changed.. The spiritual energy of this world has altered the nature of my abilities at a fundamental level.'
In mere moments, a flood of memories and knowledge raced through Clark's mind. Every lesson he had learned about his Kryptonian physiology flickered through his consciousness like a slideshow at impossible speed.
Everyone knows how Kryptonian cells were designed to absorb and store solar radiation from yellow suns. But that was only the surface. In this universe, the true foundation of his power lay deeper—in spiritual energy.
His body, still a living solar battery, now also served as a converter. It transformed solar radiation into raw spiritual energy, which coursed through his veins like a second bloodstream, empowering every cell, every fiber, every breath.
This spiritual energy enhanced his muscles far beyond their natural limits, granting him strength capable of shaking continents, speed that bent the laws of physics, and durability that laughed in the face of weapons of mass destruction. It amplified everything—his reflexes, his senses, even his vision, allowing him to see across the electromagnetic spectrum and perceive things invisible to the naked eye.
His lungs, supercharged with spiritual energy, became engines of elemental force—capable of releasing gales of wind strong enough to level cities or chilling blasts that could freeze metal in an instant.
A faint, nearly invisible aura of spiritual energy wrapped tightly around his body like a second skin. It served as his shield, granting him invulnerability to most forms of physical damage. That same aura allowed him to defy gravity, enabling him to fly and survive the vacuum of space without effort.
His solar or heat vision was the result of focused spiritual energy drawing on stored solar power, channeling it through his eyes and unleashing it in precise, destructive beams.
But the source wasn't limitless.
Under a red sun, his connection to spiritual energy was severed. Without it, his powers dwindled to nothing. And then there was Kryptonite. Clark hadn't come into contact with it before, and yet he formed a theory if he were to even come into contact with it.
His hypothesis was simple yet alarming—it functioned like a spiritual toxin. Instead of fueling him, it poisoned his system, corrupting the spiritual flow and causing his body to weaken.
'When I was five, I spent nearly every day learning how to suppress my strength—how to walk without cracking the floor, how to touch without breaking bones, how to breathe without creating a storm. From five to ten, I was a child struggling to contain a power I barely understood. But from ten onward... I trained not just to control my powers, but to amplify them—to refine my spiritual energy and focus it, direct it.
I trained in martial arts and studied Krypton's remaining knowledge banks, whether it was in science, philosophy, history, and how to effectively save people. All of it—just to prepare me to be a hero...'
He shook his head slightly, annoyed by his own train of thought.
'Who am I even monologuing this for? Ugh, this is getting boring… Maybe I should start experimenting with more advanced applications of spiritual energy. If my theory's correct, I might be able to push past even what Superman could achieve in the DC universe. But then again… with greater power often comes even greater vulnerability. I'll need to be careful.'
Clark looked up, his expression unreadable. Though he hadn't answered Sayori's question directly, there was a subtle shift in the air.
Clark let out a heavy sigh as he flexed his arms, his muscles tensing beneath his skin. In an instant, the reinforced cuffs restraining him shattered with a deafening crack, the fragments scattering across the room like broken glass.
Sayori jolted back, startled by the sudden explosion of force. She instinctively reached for her sidearm, her hands trembling slightly as she trained her sights on Clark. The tension in the room escalated immediately—every soldier snapped to attention, weapons raised and aimed squarely at the man now standing tall and unbound even though a wall stood between them.
Clark rose to his full height, his expression unreadable. "Let's get one thing straight, General," he said, his voice calm but laced with undeniable authority. He began walking slowly toward General Kenzo, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The silence was suffocating.
As he neared the reinforced wall between them, Clark raised his right hand. The metallic gauntlet encasing his arm began to glow with a brilliant, swirling light. He pressed his palm against the cold steel, and within seconds, the wall began to melt—bubbling and hissing as the metal turned to molten liquid, igniting at the edges. Flames danced across the surface, casting flickering shadows along the room.
The molten opening widened, stretching until it formed a doorway large enough for Clark to pass through with ease. He stepped through the smoldering gap, emerging on the other side to find every weapon in the room aimed directly at him. Even the priest had raised several talismans, prepared for an exorcism if necessary.
Despite the hostile standoff, Clark remained composed as he walked forward until he stood directly in front of General Kenzo—face to face, man to man. The tension between them was palpable, but Clark's tone was firm and sincere.
"The reason I've been so cooperative until now," he began, "is to prove to you—and to everyone in this room—that I mean no harm. I've answered your questions. I've shown restraint, that I can be compliant. I've made every effort to be respectful and transparent, within reason. But I will not—cannot—reveal the full nature of my powers."
He paused, glancing at the room full of soldiers and staff.
"If someone unworthy, someone with malicious intent, were to acquire that knowledge... it wouldn't just put me in danger. It would put everyone I care about at risk. I don't just protect myself anymore. I protect this world. The people of this world."
He took a breath, then continued.
"We live in a vast and dangerous universe, General. One filled with beings whose power could potentially rival or surpass mine. We don't always know who's a friend and who's a threat. And when those threats come—and believe me, they will come—you're going to need someone on your side who understands how to face them."
Clark extended his hand toward General Kenzo, meeting his eyes with unwavering resolve.
"You can treat me like another name on your list of potential enemies. Or you can have an ally. One who'll be there when the world needs him most. The choice is yours, General."
Kenzo eyed Clark's hand cautiously. The room fell completely silent as he considered the offer. Then, with measured calm, he asked, "Before I take your hand, answer me this: If we were to go to war—against a foreign country—would you help them, or us?"
Clark's answer was immediate.
"Neither. And both," he said evenly. "I stand with peace, not sides. If war ever looms on the horizon, I'll do what I can to prevent it. This world has seen enough war. We don't need another."
The General stood still for a moment, studying Clark as though trying to read a man carved from mystery and myth. He then looked down at the still-glowing gauntlet.
"If I shake your hand," Kenzo asked with a serious expression, "am I going to end up like that wall?"
Clark couldn't help but laugh—an honest, light-hearted chuckle that softened the room's tension. The energy around his arm receded as the gauntlet folded away into his skin and vanished up to his elbow, leaving only bare flesh.
"No," Clark said, still smiling. "I promise."
With a subtle nod, the General stepped forward and firmly grasped Clark's hand.
"Do not make me regret this, Kal-El."
Clark returned the handshake with equal strength and clarity. "To a prosperous relationship, General."
Around them, the atmosphere shifted. The military personnel slowly lowered their weapons, tension ebbing away as a collective sigh of relief filled the room. The priest lowered his talismans, murmuring a quiet prayer of thanks.
Sayori, who had been standing frozen at the edge of the room, finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she watched the scene unfold.
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