> "Homelander, what is this?"
Clark Kent's eyes locked tightly on Alex, his tone low and serious.
Ever since his powers began awakening, Clark had carried one burning question in his heart—
Who am I, really?
He loved his parents, Jonathan and Martha, more than life itself.
They were his parents, and always would be.
But that yearning for identity—for the truth of his origins—
was something no human upbringing could erase.
And for all these years, Clark had been completely powerless to uncover the truth.
He'd always believed he was alone—
the only alien being on this planet.
No answers.
No clues.
No one else like him.
Until now.
> "So," Alex said with a hint of a smirk, "you finally want to talk?"
His tone was teasing, but his eyes were sharp.
> "Here's how I see it—you've got the maze, but I've got the key.
The funny thing is, I don't actually need to go in.
You're the one dying to see what's inside."
Clark didn't answer.
Though he was just as intrigued by the mysterious cube, he was trying to hide it—
to stay cautious.
> "You're not wrong," he admitted quietly.
Alex nodded, skipping any pretense of diplomacy.
> "I don't care whether you're ready to step into that maze or not.
I am.
So that key of yours…" He smiled faintly. "I'm getting it one way or another."
> "I came here with the intention to cooperate, Clark.
But if you won't, well—then I'll just have to take it."
Clark's mouth twitched.
This guy was always so direct.
> "Can we maybe not start with the threats?" he muttered. "How about you tell me what you want, first?"
> "Simple. We work together."
The bluntness in Alex's tone was so matter-of-fact that Clark couldn't even be angry.
Because truthfully…
he wanted to see what this cube could do, too.
> "All right," Clark said finally. "How do you want to do this?"
Before Alex could answer—
> "Clark! Dinner's ready! Bring Alex along!"
Jonathan Kent's cheerful voice rang from the kitchen.
Clark glanced at Alex, both of them silently agreeing to drop the subject for now.
With practiced ease, Clark plastered on a smile.
> "Come on," he said lightly. "You heard them—guest or not, Mom'll scold me if I let dinner get cold."
Alex followed him into the cozy farmhouse kitchen,
and soon, the warm smell of food filled the air.
Dinner was simple, honest, and oddly comforting—
Jonathan telling old farm stories, Martha insisting Alex eat more pie.
By the time they were done, even Alex couldn't help but feel a trace of warmth.
---
After dinner, the two of them walked side by side through the open fields behind the farm,
the fading sunlight stretching long shadows across the wheat.
Now that they were alone again, they spoke plainly.
> "Let's get something clear," Clark said. "Whatever that cube is—it belongs to me, got it?"
> "Of course," Alex said smoothly. "The key is yours. You open it, you help me—that's all."
"And in return, I'll owe you one. Favor, payment, whatever you want. But the object itself…"
He smiled faintly.
> "That's mine."
He fixed Clark with a level gaze.
> "So, I'll ask once more—knowing all that, are you still in?"
Clark gave a helpless shrug.
> "Do I even have a choice? You just said you'd take it by force if I refused."
That earned him a chuckle.
Alex could tell—Clark had accepted.
It wasn't greed or fear that moved him, though.
It was that innate decency, that instinct to see the good in people—
the same trait that made Clark Kent Superman.
---
> "Good," Alex said, visibly pleased. "Then let's open it together."
Since this was alien technology, the odds of something dramatic happening were… high.
So the two decided to move somewhere remote—away from prying eyes and innocent bystanders.
After a brief word to the Kents, they left the farmhouse behind
and flew—well, Clark drove, Alex didn't bother hiding his flight—
to a desolate hill outside of Smallville.
The wind howled across the barren slope.
> "Here," Alex said, scanning the surroundings. "Perfect."
He pulled the cube from his coat,
while Clark unclasped the small key pendant from around his neck.
Without a word, he handed it over.
Alex didn't hesitate.
He slid the key into the cube's recessed slot—
Click.
Perfect fit.
The two exchanged a look.
It worked.
This was no coincidence—
Clark's key truly was made to unlock this device.
Alex pushed the key in the rest of the way.
KRRRCH—KRRRCH—KRRRCH!
The ground beneath them trembled violently.
A deep rumbling filled the air, and from the soil around them—
massive crystal spires erupted skyward, piercing the earth like icebergs breaking through the sea.
They grew, multiplied, interlocked—
forming a dazzling structure of alien geometry and luminous blue-white light.
In seconds, it stood complete before them—
a towering crystalline fortress gleaming under the sun.
Alex just stared for a long moment.
> "...You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.
"The Fortress of Solitude?"
Superman's legendary Arctic sanctuary—
and now, thanks to one misplaced butterfly wing,
it had appeared early.
In Smallville.
Clark, meanwhile, could barely contain himself.
His eyes were wide, shining with awe and disbelief.
> "What… what is this place?"
He could feel it—
a strange resonance in his chest,
as if something deep within him recognized the structure.
Even without understanding it fully,
he knew.
This was Kryptonian.
Real, living proof of his alien heritage.
Any lingering doubt he'd had about Alex's "Kryptonian" story evaporated instantly.
> "Unbelievable…" Clark whispered, stepping closer.
"This… this is incredible."
Like a child stepping into a dream,
he walked slowly toward the entrance of the gleaming fortress,
his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and reverence.
Alex followed beside him, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
> "Well," he said softly, "after you, Clark."
Together, they stepped inside—
only to find it silent and empty.
No holographic guides.
No echoes of Jor-El's voice.
Just the cold, quiet beauty of alien architecture.
> "Guess the tour program hasn't started yet," Alex said dryly.
Clark didn't even hear him.
He was too awestruck to speak.
Because for the first time in his life,
he felt it—
Proof that he wasn't alone.
That Krypton had been real.
That he truly was one of them.
And in his heart, a single thought formed with trembling certainty:
> "Homelander… he really is a Kryptonian."
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