"Ugh..."
Clark groaned as his eyes fluttered open. Dust and smoke thickened the air, filling his lungs with grit. Agony coursed through his body, every nerve screaming.
He tried to move, only to realize his lower half was pinned beneath shattered stone and steel beams. His shoulders and head were the only parts free, the rest of him crushed under the collapsed hall of Luthor Manor. What once stood as one of the grandest rooms in Smallville now lay in broken silence, reduced to a grave of luxury.
"What... just happened?" His voice was hoarse, trembling.
He remembered it in fragments: fighting a Talon inside the hall, then a crazed guard slamming him to the floor. After that, fire—multiple rockets detonating, one after another, tearing through the walls until the entire building gave way.
Who would fire rockets into a crowded party? The police? No. The police never used that kind of force.
Lex's men? Impossible. Lex was ruthless, but reckless destruction of his own estate wasn't his style.
Clark gritted his teeth, pushing the questions aside. He needed to get up.
"Hnh..." His muscles strained as he tried to lift himself from the wreckage, but his limbs quivered uselessly. Panic rushed through him as realization struck: weakness spread through his entire body. It felt just like when he was exposed to meteor rock.
His eyes widened. "No... Kryptonite. The manor walls... they were built with meteor fragments."
Terror seized him. If the assassins found him in this state, pinned and powerless, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Shadows moved in the smoke. The Talons were already here, stalking toward him. Their owl-like masks gleamed faintly in the firelight, hiding all emotion, radiating only the cold intent to kill.
One raised his clawed weapon and drove it downward without hesitation.
Clark's breath caught. He couldn't move, couldn't fight. Despair swallowed him whole.
"Zzz!"
A beam of crimson split the night, cutting through the smoky air. Heat Vision struck the weapon mid-swing, melting it into liquid slag.
"What—?"
Before the assassin could react, another burst of searing light tore through his chest. His heart exploded in a flash of heat, and the body collapsed lifelessly at Clark's feet.
From the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes emerged. The Talons froze. Their aura of confidence faltered as instinct screamed that something far more dangerous was watching them.
Clark blinked through the dust. His voice cracked with disbelief. "Adrian...?"
His brother stepped into view, tall, immaculate despite the ruin around them, eyes burning like molten fire.
Clark's heart lurched. Adrian had told him before that he wanted nothing to do with these fights, that Clark was on his own path. Clark had believed him—resented him for it. Yet here he was, standing between Clark and death itself.
The guilt hit him harder than the rubble crushing his body. Had he been wrong about his brother all this time?
Adrian, however, showed no sign of sharing that sentiment. He didn't glance back with warmth, didn't reassure. He simply advanced, exuding the controlled menace of a predator.
"Zzz!" Another beam lashed out, cleaving an assassin in two. The corpse hit the stone with a wet sound, blood pooling across the floor.
The other Talons recoiled. Even these seasoned killers, reapers forged by the Court, faltered.
One hissed under his breath.
They surged anyway, forced by their orders.
Adrian moved with terrifying precision. A Talon leapt from the rafters—Adrian met him midair with a punch so sharp it launched the assassin across the ruins like a broken doll. Another slashed at his arm with a rope-blade. Adrian caught the line, yanked, and dragged the attacker into his grip. His crimson eyes locked with the man's in pitiless judgment. With a twist, bones snapped like dry twigs.
The others swarmed, trying to pin his arms and legs. For a moment, they clung to him, as if ants clinging to a giant.
Adrian sneered. His body pulsed, and with a single motion he shook them off. The air itself cracked with the force, a shockwave blasting outward. Talons flew through the air, smashing into the rubble. Before they could rise, twin beams of heat carved through them, ending their lives in merciless arcs of fire.
Silence followed, broken only by the crackle of flames.
The Court of Owls' finest assassins, killers feared in the underworld for centuries, lay scattered in charred pieces at his feet.
Clark stared at Adrian, his chest tight, torn between gratitude and fear.
Adrian walked closer, his steps steady, his expression unreadable. He looked down at his younger brother, pinned and pale.
"You don't look so good, Clark." His tone carried an amusement. "Lex's manor was built with meteorite-infused stone. Being crushed under this... I imagine it's not pleasant."
Clark swallowed hard. So that was it. The Kryptonite woven into the manor walls explained his sudden weakness.
"But Adrian... why aren't you affected?"
Adrian tilted his head, the red glow fading from his eyes as he studied the broken hall. "Do you think I'm immune? I feel it gnawing at me too. But weakness is a choice, Clark." His smile was sharp, cutting. "And I don't choose it."
He turned, eyes narrowing at the one Talon still breathing, crawling through the wreckage, desperate to flee. Adrian's gaze locked on him, and the survivor froze like prey under a hawk's shadow.
____
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