"Clark, come out. I know you're behind me."
The words echoed in the dark alley of Metropolis. Adrian exhaled slowly, turning with a sharp gaze toward the shadow that shifted against the wall.
"I didn't mean to follow you, Adrian," Clark admitted as he stepped into the dim light. His voice was soft, guilty. "I knew you were going after that escaped assassin from the Court of Owls, and I was worried something might happen. So… I followed."
Adrian's lips curved faintly, though his eyes carried only the ghost of a smile.
"So you were planning to protect me, Clark?" His tone was cool, but less biting than usual. "You realize I'm not usually the one needing protection."
"I know."
Clark shrugged, offering a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm usually the one who messes things up. But I thought… maybe the more people, the stronger we are. Two pairs of hands instead of one."
Adrian tilted his head, scrutinizing him. "That's not how this works. You don't even understand what you're walking into, Clark. You don't know what the Court has waiting." His voice sharpened, but then softened a fraction. "If you want to play detective, go join Chloe or Pete. They'd enjoy the mystery. This is no game."
Clark hesitated, then blurted, "Adrian… you're still bothered by what I said before, aren't you?"
Adrian sighed, tension flickering in his shoulders.
"Clark, I don't care about childish grudges. I don't need apologies, and I don't need you following me around trying to make up for something meaningless. Just… don't put yourself in danger for me."
Clark's jaw tightened. He lowered his head for a moment, then said quietly, "I just want to help. I've fought the Owls before. Maybe I can make a difference."
Adrian stepped closer, his voice dropping, sharp but threaded with a rare trace of concern.
"You want to 'help' because I saved you out of the rubble? That's not help, Clark. That's guilt. And guilt doesn't make you stronger. It makes you hesitate—and that hesitation could get you killed."
Clark froze, the words stinging more than he wanted to admit. But beneath the sting, he caught something else in his brother's tone—a warning, yes, but also a plea.
Finally, Clark exhaled, defeated. "Fine. If you insist, I'll step back. But… be careful."
Adrian gave the smallest nod, almost imperceptible. "I will."
Without another word, Clark turned and disappeared into the city's glow.
Adrian watched until Clark's figure was swallowed by the night. Only then did he shift his attention forward, resuming the hunt.
---
The outskirts of Metropolis held a forgotten ruin.
An abandoned sanatorium loomed over the hillside, its cracked sign barely legible: Saint Luke's Asylum. Once, it had been a tuberculosis ward in the early twentieth century, a place where thousands had withered away. Later, it was repurposed by the Church as an asylum for criminally insane patients before mismanagement shut it down.
Now, its broken windows and towering Jesus statue looked out like a silent sentinel, casting shadows in the pale moonlight.
Adrian stood at the statue's base, gazing upward with quiet disdain.
The Court of Owls… hiding in a tomb where six thousand patients were buried. Fitting.
Following the trail of the assassin, Adrian slipped inside. The wooden stairs creaked beneath his boots as he descended toward the basement, every sound amplified by the suffocating silence. The wind outside whistled through broken panes, and from somewhere deep within, the cries of night birds echoed—harsh, unsettling.
At the bottom, he found the entrance: a hidden door carved into the wall. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
The Labyrinth.
It stretched endlessly before him, a twisting warren designed to break minds and bodies. To anyone else, it was death. To him, it was an inconvenience. His super vision cut through the walls, mapping the maze instantly. The portraits of the Court's victims lined the walls in grayscale, each face a silent warning. Red coffins rested in alcoves—Talons waiting to be awakened.
Adrian adjusted the stolen owl mask on his face and pressed forward. The air carried faint toxins, hallucinogens meant to instill fear, but they fizzled uselessly against him.
A voice soon filled the darkness.
"Welcome to the Court of Owls."
It was low, commanding, everywhere at once.
"Are you the one with the immeasurable strength, gifted with power beyond men?"
Adrian lifted his head, his tone calm, almost bored.
"No one else would dare impersonate that name."
He walked with deliberate confidence, the shadows bending away from him.
"The tricks you've laced into this maze don't work on me. If you've got nothing else, I'll come to you. And when I do, this little game ends with my victory."
A pause. Then, the voice came again, colder.
"You underestimate us. You don't understand the true meaning of the Court. If you continue forward, you invite your own death. But if you pledge allegiance, if you join us, everything you desire will be yours."
Adrian let out a short, humorless laugh.
"You're offering me power?" His tone shifted, sharper. "Then tell me—if I demanded the entire Court bow to me, would you agree?"
The silence that followed was thick, and then the voice snapped with outrage.
"Absurd! Do not mistake our mercy for weakness. If you oppose us, the Talons will end you!"
Adrian's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.
"Then I'll take what I want by force."
He stepped forward—only to feel stone hands erupt from the marble floor, locking around his ankles. The ground itself tried to cage him.
With a grunt of effort, Adrian flexed, shattering the stone to rubble. His glare snapped upward, heat vision flaring as he searched for his attacker.
The room erupted in light.
Chains of lightning crashed down like a storm, blue arcs filling the chamber in a forest of power. The impact slammed Adrian backward, driving him hard into the marble. The floor cracked beneath his body as the energy coursed through him.
For a moment, his body went numb. The air reeked of ozone.
Then, a roar split the chaos.
"How dare you!"
Bursting through shattered walls, Clark Kent drove his fist forward, his punch landing with enough fury to send the trench-coated conjurer hiding in the shadows crashing through the marble floor and deep into the earth below.
__
Send Power stones for bonus chapter
__
Send support on patreon
Patreon.com/Zphyr