The air fractured with a sound like glass being drawn from a glacier—long, screaming, and deeply offended by the concept of warmth.
Dozens of ice needles materialized above Sean, perfectly symmetrical, translucent, and sharp enough to turn light itself into jagged prisms.
Lucinda stared upward in pure, unfiltered jealousy. She had always dreamed of being like Elsa—belt out a dramatic let it go~ let it go~, accidentally build a palace, maybe sprout an Olaf out of her fingers for emotional support.
But no. The universe, as usual, had looked at her hopes, snorted, and kept walking.
The ice bullets hovered in disciplined formation, tips angled downward, trembling as if eager to be released. Sean lifted two fingers and Lucinda's heart skipped two beats. She needed to get out of there—fast, far, preferably out, but she couldn't leave everyone here.
The ice bullets fired. Compressed air detonated around them as they accelerated, carving white scars through the space where Lucinda had been standing a heartbeat earlier.
She was already gone.
Her body pivoted on the ball of her foot, hips turning first, shoulders following—a clean Tai Sabaki, the evasive movement drilled into her spine through years of practice. Muscle memory took the wheel while her brain screamed GOODBYE WORLD! Remember my heroic deeds!
She grabbed an unconscious body mid-motion, dragged it clear of Sean's line of fire, and tossed it into a nearby hospital room like a very urgent sack of laundry. Then another. And another.
Adrenaline surged through her veins so hard she didn't even register that she was relocating patients like props in a disaster movie montage.
No time to analyze. She needed to keep them safe and avoid the needle bullets that punched into the concrete behind her, exploding into frost and shrapnel like overachieving snowflakes.
She slid low, knees bent, center of gravity anchored. Another volley followed immediately, the hallway screaming as ice tore through it.
When she was sure there were no more dying—or already dead—people in her immediate path, she stopped retreating.
She stepped into the attack.
Her arm snapped up, forearm angled precisely—not to block, but to redirect. The needle skimmed past her sleeve, close enough to crystallize the fabric, and she hissed, offended on behalf of her clothes. Momentum carried her sideways into a rolling recovery.
She came up in a perfect zenkutsu-dachi stance, one foot forward, fists raised, breath controlled.
"You rely too much on distance," she said calmly, as if she weren't dodging airborne murder popsicles. "That's cheating."
Sean snarled and spread his arms wide.
He was shivering now, lips blue, grin too wide for a healthy person. The more Lucinda looked at him, the more she understood why she could no longer save him.
It had been too long. Too much stolen body heat. Too much damage—whether from the meteorite infection or from choices made long before it. His body wasn't just failing; it had already crossed the line and forgotten where it came from.
The bitter thought settled in her chest.
Maybe she could disrupt the plot. Maybe she could derail fate a little. But maybe… maybe she couldn't stop every death, maybe just add more for the sake of the plot damn!
What if she couldn't stop Lex and Clark's friendship from ending, no matter how hard she tried?
"Nah," Lucinda groaned, ducking another barrage of ice. "As long as I'm here, I'm not letting that happen. But as for you—" She twisted aside as needles screamed past her face. "After what you did, I really won't mind if you just drop dead."
Sean grinned wider. "Too much talk for such a small creature—"
"Excuse you—" Lucinda gasped as the needles multiplied.
Scores of them now. Circling. Rotating. A frozen cyclone screaming death in twelve different angles.
With a sharp motion, he unleashed everything at once. The entire hospital hall turned white and yet Lucinda didn't hesitate. She needed to reach him.
It was a gamble—ninety-nine point nine nine percent chance she'd be frozen solid this time. Sean had held back earlier. She knew that now. He had been curious. Calculating. Wondering what she was.
That kid had been deranged long before the meteorite ever found him. This was just an upgrade.
Lucinda charged—not in a straight line. Never in a straight line. Her feet struck the ground in tight arcs, cutting diagonally through the storm. She ducked under one needle, twisted around another, vaulted off a frozen slab with a sharp mawashi geri that shattered it midair. Ice fragments burst like glittering sparks.
She was honestly shocked at how natural it felt. Fluid. Clean. "Beat that!" She internally bragged to no one in particular.
She had trained in her highschool years and even during college, but she had never truly used it in real combat. Not with her life on the line. Not with physics actively trying to murder her.
She landed, spun, and dropped into a throw.
One needle passed too close. She seized it—not the blade, but the force behind it—catching the trajectory with both hands, rotating her torso and hurling it aside in a movement eerily similar to seoi nage.
The redirected projectile embedded itself meters away. Her breathing remained steady. His did not. She closed the gap in three steps.
Sean barely had time to widen his eyes before her elbow slammed into his ribs—precise, controlled, and devastating. The strike landed exactly where his guard was weakest, driving the air from his lungs in a sharp, involuntary gasp.
He hadn't even tracked Lucinda's movement; one moment she had been within his line of sight, the next she was already inside his reach. It was as if sheer willpower had compressed time itself around her, lending her both speed and strength in one decisive burst.
His concentration shattered instantly.
The suspended ice needles trembled, their razor-sharp points losing cohesion. One by one, they cracked and dissolved midair, collapsing into harmless flakes that drifted softly to the floor. Snow fell in gentle silence, a stark and almost mocking contrast to the violence that had ruled the space seconds earlier, as though the room itself were pretending nothing dangerous had ever occurred.
Sean's body was thrown back several meters before it hit the floor with a heavy, echoing thud. The impact rattled through him, and he groaned, the sound strained and low, his breath frosting the air as he struggled to draw it back in.
Lucinda watched him for a moment, chest rising steadily as she regained her balance. Then she straightened, her posture calm and calculated, and began to walk toward him. Each step was unhurried, measured, her presence looming as she stopped beside where he lay sprawled on the ground.
Sean didn't look frightened. If anything, he seemed amused. He tilted his head slightly and chuckled when his eyes met hers, the sound brittle and edged with pain.
"You're indeed special, Lucy," he said, his teeth chattering as cold gnawed visibly at him.
"I know, Sean," Lucinda replied with a smirk, unbothered. "I'm very unique in all aspects." She tilted her head, studying him as though weighing a simple choice, a smug grin plastered on her face. "Now, if you could be so good and unfreeze everything—and everyone—here, I'll let you walk away unscathed."
Sean stifled a laugh, his shoulders shaking, before it broke free into outright laughter—sharp, unhinged, echoing too loudly in the ruined space.
Lucinda barely had time to inhale before his body began to melt. His form collapsed inward like ice exposed to sudden heat, liquefying into water that spread across the floor and vanished as if it had never existed. Her eyes widened, instinct screaming too late.
She felt it then—a breath against the back of her neck.
She turned, but the motion came a fraction of a second too slow. Sean was already there, his hand clamping around her throat as he slammed her against the nearest wall.
The impact rattled her bones, cracks spiderwebbing through the surface behind her as cold surged around his grip. Frost crawled outward from where his hand pinned her, biting into the wall and the air alike. Sean's grin reappeared inches from her face, sharp and triumphant, his breath ghosting against her skin like winter itself.
Lucinda groaned, the sound strangled in her throat as she gasped for air. Her hands flew to his wrist, fingers digging in as she tried to pry his grip loose. It was useless. Sean didn't even flinch. His hold was absolute, unmoving, as if her resistance were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
His grin widened, revealing blue-tinged fangs that glinted in the dim light. "How odd, Lucy," he said softly, almost conversational. "I can't even drain any heat from you anymore."
Her lungs burned. Sean lifted her higher with one hand, the sole of her feet scraping uselessly against the wall as he glided her upward with effortless strength. Pressure twisted her neck at an unnatural angle, stars bursting at the edges of her vision as the world began to narrow.
"Where's that strength?" Sean taunted, watching her with open amusement. "That speed from earlier. Was that all you had?" He chuckled, the sound low and cruel. "Though I suppose it doesn't matter. I know someone who might be able to cure me for real." His eyes gleamed. "Someone with a far more… unusual heat than yours."
Lucinda coughed violently, the sound raw and desperate. "W–What are you talking about—" The words broke apart as her body betrayed her. Veins throbbed along her temples, her vision blurring as her face flushed red. Her hands flailed, searching blindly—along the wall, the air—anything. Anything she could grab, anything she could use.
She needed something. One strike. One chance.
Sean chuckled again, clearly savoring the sight of her struggle. "Clark Kent," he murmured, almost reverently. "I know he's far more special than you are, Lucy."