The temporal simulation collapsed with a soft, harmonic chime—like glass shattering in reverse.
Clark stumbled slightly as the light faded, his breath caught in his chest. He'd seen fragments of futures: Earth torn apart by things he didn't recognize, Paradox kneeling beside a fallen Ivy, the Justice League divided, and something… massive… watching all of it from beyond the stars.
Paradox stood with his hands behind his back, expression unreadable. "You okay?"
Clark nodded stiffly. "That wasn't a simulation. That was a warning."
"Technically both. The forge doesn't fabricate timelines. It samples them from potential causal branches. The difference is—" He stopped, tilted his head. "Never mind. You're still digesting."
Clark turned slowly toward Ivy, who sat perched on a nearby ledge, arms folded, her expression neutral. "You've seen this too?"
"More than once," she said. "And I still sleep fine. Mostly because I dose myself with modified chlorophyll dreams every third night."
"She invented a neuro-organic sedative that makes you dream in green," Paradox added offhandedly. "It smells like pine needles and regret."
Ivy gave him a small smirk.
Clark rubbed his face, visibly trying to reassemble his composure. "You said someone's trying to erase you."
"More like dislodge me from key points in the timeline. I show up, things stabilize. I vanish, things go haywire. It's why I can't afford to stop building."
Clark's brow furrowed. "You act like you're holding the multiverse together with duct tape."
Paradox gave him a long look. "I am."
That silenced the room for a beat.
Then Clark pointed to the device still humming behind them. "You've made a multiversal forge. What else are you working on?"
Paradox tapped the side of his head. "Glad you asked."
He walked over to a workbench that looked more like a fusion of mad science and modern art. A black orb floated in a containment cradle, shifting shape slowly—becoming a cube, then a prism, then something unreadable.
"This is the Mirror Node," Paradox said. "Takes subconscious input and converts it into structured quantum data. Think of it like an AI, but one that's learning your thoughts before you think them."
Clark took a cautious step back. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is. That's why it's not plugged into anything. Yet."
"Why build it?"
Paradox reached over and flipped a crystalline switch. "Because the only thing faster than light is instinct. And I need a system that can react before the problem even arrives."
Ivy crossed the room and leaned on the console beside him. "He also tried to use it as a coffee predictor. It failed."
"Not everything is about coffee," Paradox muttered. "But most things are."
Clark shook his head slowly. "So what now?"
"Now," Paradox said, "we do something different."
He tossed Clark a sleek, palm-sized device. "Wear that. It'll sync with your Kryptonian physiology and allow me to track any anomalies you encounter. If the Fold's interference is spreading, you're going to notice it first."
Clark eyed it skeptically. "You want me to be your early warning system?"
"I want you to stop pretending you're not already watching everything."
A flicker of dry amusement passed over Clark's face. "Fair."
Paradox moved toward the spiral elevator. "I have to make a stop in New York. Someone's been trying to replicate my tech using stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. data."
Clark narrowed his eyes. "Stark?"
"Please. Tony's not that dumb."
"You sure?"
"…Eighty-five percent sure."
Ivy stretched and cracked her neck. "I'll stay. The forge needs recalibration and the greenhouse wants attention."
Paradox nodded. "Don't let the purple moss near the boneflower. They've started fighting again."
Clark blinked. "Your plants… fight?"
Ivy gave him a cool smile. "Of course. What, you think evolution only happens in forests?"
As Paradox stepped onto the elevator platform, Clark called after him. "If you find something—anything—call me."
"I won't have to," Paradox said, and vanished upward in a blur of light.
Half a continent away, the air above Brooklyn shimmered and broke like a ripple in water.
And somewhere beneath the city, a voice whispered in a language older than physics.
He's returned.