[Third Person's PoV]
Clark stood motionless, staring down at his most recent creation—or rather, the abomination he had left in his wake. What shocked him more than anything was the fact that, despite the Oni's mangled and broken condition, it still clung to life. Its chest rose in shallow, rattling breaths, twitching faintly in defiance of death.
He scoffed bitterly, his voice laced with venom. "Look at that... lucky bastard is still alive."
The sight filled him with a fury that eclipsed reason. It wasn't just anger—it was injustice. It was the cruel absurdity of the universe. Why did this thing get to survive, while she had to die? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.
Clark's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles popped, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. His jaw tightened as he bit down on his lower lip until it nearly bled. His eyes shimmered red, glowing brighter by the second as heat rippled off his skin. The area around his eyes began to glow, light flaring like the molten cracks of a volcano. Wisps of steam and fire danced from his face as the fury boiled inside him.
Then, without warning, a beam of searing heat erupted from his eyes, lancing straight into the Oni.
The world reacted violently.
Rocks cracked and superheated, shifting from dull gray to brilliant hues of orange, yellow, and red. The ground beneath them pulsed with energy as if the earth itself were recoiling in pain. The air warped and screamed under the intensity, twisting in waves of distortion.
Scorch marks spread across the Oni's flesh, though its tough hide resisted the worst of it at first. Still, Clark's vision didn't waver. His fury intensified. A guttural growl rumbled from his throat, low and primal, and he widened his eyes further—unleashing even more power.
"Ka-El!!" Sol shouted worriedly, "You're rapidly exhausting more solar energy than I can replenish! Please calm down—"
Kal-El was too far gone.
Flakes of ash and skin peeled off the Oni in blackened strips. The rocks nearby began to melt, bubbling into streams of lava that hissed and popped. The creature's body unraveled in layers—first the skin, then the muscle, the organs, the sinew. Each layer burned away until only a scorched skeleton remained, which then crumbled to dust under the relentless force of Clark's solar wrath.
"GRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!"
His roar echoed across the mountains like a thunderclap. Sparks shot wildly from the corners of his eyes, arcs of volatile energy discharging in erratic bursts. The mountainside now bore a clean, gaping hole—vaporized right through its center. The edges glowed with residual heat, dripping magma like a bleeding wound. The air shimmered, warping with heatwaves and the scent of scorched earth.
Clark finally dropped to both knees, his vision dimming as the last of the energy sputtered out. Steam hissed from his face as he shut his eyes, utterly spent. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every inch of him trembled—not from weakness, but from the storm raging inside.
His lips quivered. Then he slammed both fists into the ground, hard enough to shake the earth beneath him.
"Damn it! God damn it all!" he screamed, his voice hoarse and cracking.
"I hate it! I hate this stupid job! I hate it so fucking much! I never wanted it in the first place! I never asked for this!! Arghhh!!"
He started kicking the ground, his boots tearing trenches into the soil. His fists pounded the earth over and over, each strike fueled by grief, frustration, and helplessness.
"I could've stopped it! I should've been faster! Why… why wasn't I fast enough?!"
He tore at the grass, ripping clumps from the earth and flinging them aside. Tears welled in his eyes, only to sizzle and vanish from the heat still radiating off his skin.
"Ka-El…" Sol's voice echoed softly in his mind, laced with concern. The AI wished more than anything it could comfort him, to reach out and ease his pain. But all it could do was watch, helpless.
Clark's body trembled. "Why wasn't I faster?" he whispered, voice cracking.
From above, Krypto descended gently through the sky, his movements slow and cautious. The loyal hound whined softly, sensing his master's anguish. He landed near Clark, approaching on padded paws. His tail low, he walked forward and nudged Clark with his nose.
"Not now, Krypto…" Clark muttered, his voice barely above a breath as he pushed the dog aside gently.
But Krypto wasn't going anywhere.
With a soft bark, he nudged Clark again—firmer this time—and then began licking his face. His nose rubbed against Clark's cheek, warm and comforting, the simple gesture brimming with empathy. His body pressed close, shielding Clark from the cold wind that blew through the scorched clearing.
Clark finally gave in. His arms wrapped tightly around Krypto's warm body, and he buried his face into the dog's scruffy white fur.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered, barely audible. "I'm so sorry…"
Krypto raised his head and let out a long, mournful howl that echoed into the sky.
"Awooooh!! Awo-Awo-Awooooo!!"
…
Clark sat quietly on the ground, legs loosely crossed, his breathing shallow as Krypto continued licking his face in earnest attempts to comfort him. The boy gave a weary smile, voice hoarse and hollow. "I'm fine… I'm better now. Sorry you had to see that, boy."
Krypto growled low in his throat, a sound more disappointed than threatening. His eyes were locked on Clark's face—he saw through the lie. The dog's ears flattened in concern. Clark's eyes were bloodshot, heavy with grief, his gaze distant. His lips curled into a weak smile, but it was more of a mask than any genuine expression.
Clark reached out and ruffled the fur on Krypto's head. "Come on, boy… We've still got work to do."
With a soft grunt, he pushed himself off the scorched ground, brushing dust and soot from his body. The suit he wore shimmered slightly, glowing faintly as the dried blood of the Oni burned away, cleansing itself until it returned to a brilliant white sheen. The unmistakable crimson and gold insignia on his chest gleamed, sharp and proud, a painful contrast.
Clark took one last look at the smoking hole that bored through the mountain, then turned his back to it, beginning a slow, deliberate walk. Krypto followed, padding loyally by his side.
His steps were sluggish at first, each one draining, the aftermath of his outburst leaving his limbs aching and his strength sapped. Though his suit worked overtime, absorbing solar energy to restore his depleted reserves, he still couldn't fly. Not yet.
The wind played with the edges of his cape, which shifted slightly, morphing upward into a hood that he pulled over his head. The forest parted for them, trees and brush scorched from the battle. They passed a trampled rice field, and Clark made a quiet mental note to come back and repair the damage.
Eventually, his boots rose an inch from the ground, then another. The solar energy he had been gathering was finally enough to carry him once more. Krypto soared beside him as they headed toward the nearby town.
From above, Clark could see the aftermath—police cars, firetrucks, and investigators had cordoned off the area with yellow tape. People stood behind the barriers, whispering, speculating. Sirens wailed in the background.
His glowing blue eyes pierced the scene with X-ray vision, sweeping through the rubble. He let out a breath, heavy with dread. Then, without a word, he descended into the cordoned-off zone.
"Hey! You can't just—!"
Clark ignored the officer's shout. He knelt and heaved aside a chunk of collapsed wall. Beneath it, nestled among the debris, was a single yellow bucket hat. Small. Innocent. Untouched by the fury that had surrounded it.
He turned it in his hands, reading the name sewn into the inner tag. His heart sank.
Holding the hat out, Clark looked at Krypto. "Can you…?"
Krypto stepped forward, sniffing it deeply. He paused, lifted his nose to the wind, sniffed again, and gave a confirming bark. Then he took to the air, glancing back to make sure Clark followed.
They flew low through the town, past rooftops and power lines, the dread for what's to come in Clark's chest growing heavier with every passing second.
Finally, Krypto descended in front of a three-story home—pristine, quiet, untouched. He barked once, placing a paw on the front door.
Clark stepped up, pulling his hood back, revealing his face. He hesitated, then rang the doorbell.
After a few moments, the door creaked open. A woman stood in the doorway, her face curious at first—then wary, then confused. "Hello?"
Clark's heart clenched the moment he saw her. The resemblance was immediate. He didn't need confirmation. She had the same eyes, the same nose—the same face he had seen on the girl, just not long ago.
"Are you the mother of…" he started gently, saying the child's name. The woman stiffened.
"I am," she said cautiously, arms folding over herself. "Why are you asking?"
Clark swallowed hard and extended the hat toward her. "I'm… I'm sorry."
Her gaze dropped. Her lips parted slightly, a confused gasp escaping her as she took a step back. "No…" she whispered.
Her hands trembled as she reached out and took the hat, turning it slowly until her eyes fell on the name tag. Her knees buckled, and Clark caught her before she hit the floor.
She clutched the hat to her chest. "No… please… please, no… I just saw her this morning. She was just—she was just here—"
"I failed," Clark whispered, voice low with guilt. "I… I wasn't fast enough."
"No," she sobbed, shaking her head violently. "Not my baby… not my little girl…"
Then it came—the scream. A soul-tearing wail that Clark detected most, what he promised to prevent from hearing again.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!"
She screamed into his chest, into the sky, into the world, clutching that tiny hat as if it were her child. Her tears poured like a storm, soaking into Clark's suit. Her voice cracked as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Clark closed his eyes. It was one thing to hear cries of grief from a distance—but this, this was up close. Intimate.
He slowly knelt with her, holding her gently as she sobbed against him, one trembling hand brushing across the insignia on his chest.
The hat remained clutched tightly in her other hand, her grip unyielding. It was as though the very essence of her had been torn away.
"My baby… not my baby…" she repeated in a broken sobs, choking for air.
And Clark said nothing.
Because there was nothing he could say…
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