[Third Person's PoV]
Clark gently laid the unconscious woman down on her own couch, making sure she was comfortable. Standing beside him was her concerned neighbor, who had rushed over after hearing the commotion from next door.
"I'll leave her in your care, ma'am," Clark said with a respectful nod, his tone calm but distant. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and began to walk away.
"Don't worry," the neighbor called out after him. "I've already contacted her husband. He should be here shortly…"
She paused, watching the caped figure's silhouette begin to fade into the hallway shadows. Then, without warning or even meaning to, she spoke again. "It wasn't your fault… I'm sure you did your best."
Clark came to a slow stop by the doorway. For a moment, he didn't respond. Then he turned back to glance at her with a somber, tired smile etched across his face.
"Unfortunately," he said quietly, "that's not a decision either of us gets to decide."
With that, he stepped out into the cool evening air, gently closed the door behind him, and launched into the sky. Krypto followed closely by his side as they ascended together into the clouds.
They soared over the countryside, retracing the places where Clark had recently battled the Yokai. Despite the destruction left in the wake of the confrontation, he wasted no time. Landing in one area after another, he worked methodically to restore what had been broken — rebuilding shattered homes, repairing torn-up roads, and replanting entire rice fields by hand. Krypto assisted as best he could, carrying tools, lifting debris, and scouting for damage.
When the last field was neatly restored, the two took off again, rising in silence back into the city skyline. Clark's face remained still and unreadable. No one who saw him could guess what emotions lay beneath that stoic exterior — frustration, sorrow, guilt… perhaps all of them at once.
As they passed by a tall radio tower, something strange occurred. In the blink of an eye, the bustling city below went completely still. The streets, once filled with life, were now empty. Every single person had vanished — not a soul remained. It was as though the entire population had been erased from existence.
Clark stopped midair, his cape billowing forward from the sudden halt, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the eerily silent streets below.
Krypto growled beside him, his ears perked and alert.
Clark crossed his arms firmly across his chest and called out with authority, "State your business."
His voice echoed through the hollow city, but there was no immediate reply. Then the air shimmered below him, rippling like heat waves rising off pavement. A veil of invisibility dissolved, revealing a figure that had been hidden just seconds before.
Floating in the open air was a tall, grey-skinned alien — humanoid in shape but distinctly otherworldly. Its limbs were long and slender, its cranium unnaturally large, and its eyes pitch black and almond-shaped. It wore a sleek, black, skin-tight suit embedded with unfamiliar devices that softly blinked with colored lights.
Clark's eyes narrowed further as the alien began to ascend, slowly rising to meet him at eye level in the sky.
The being raised a hand, revealing long, padded fingers. "Greetings, fellow otherworldly visitor," it said, its voice oddly smooth and echoing.
Clark frowned deeper. The alien hadn't spoken English — at least not audibly. The language was foreign, something he couldn't identify, yet he understood every word as clearly as if it had been spoken in his native tongue.
Sol, the AI integrated into Clark's Kryptonian suit, quickly provided clarification. "Based on Krypton's extensive archives, what you are seeing is a Zeta Reticulan, commonly referred to as a 'Grey.' They are known for their advanced technological prowess, immense intellect, and strong telepathic capabilities. They are also capable of creating instantaneous clones and shape-shifting. Be cautious, Kal-El. The Greys are notoriously cunning. The reason you understand its speech is due to a built-in translator embedded in its suit."
Clark kept his arms crossed and his tone firm. "As I said, state your business — now — or I will treat this as a hostile encounter."
"There's no need for that," the Grey replied smoothly, its expression unsettlingly calm. "We are both beings not of this world. I come in peace, with goodwill. We are more alike than you may realize."
It gestured gently with its long fingers as it continued. "Let us begin with introductions. My name is X'under. I seek cooperation… Superman. As two outsiders on this planet, I believe we could benefit greatly from mutual assistance."
Clark stared at him for a long moment, the city still empty beneath them, the wind brushing silently past his cape.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose.
"I'm seriously not in the mood for this…" he thought grimly.
"And what exactly would that cooperation entail?" Clark asked, his tone flat, though his eyes were sharp with suspicion. He wanted to determine if this alien simply needed help returning home—or if something far more sinister was at play.
X'under's lips curled into what was meant to be a reassuring smile. "I have observed your capabilities. Your strength, your resilience, your ability to combat entities that even we struggle to touch—spiritual beings, spectral anomalies, those that interfere with the progression of both your kind and mine. You possess the raw power to challenge them. Together, with your strength and our advanced technology and intellect, we can eradicate these threats permanently. We will rid this world of those creatures, freeing it from their influence."
Clark raised a brow. His recent encounter with a Yokai still lingered in his thoughts, the memory of the destruction and suffering it caused fresh in his mind. Part of him welcomed the idea of ensuring such beings would never return. But the cold certainty in X'under's voice unnerved him. There was no compassion behind the offer—only ambition.
He narrowed his eyes. "And once they're gone, what exactly do you plan on doing?"
X'under's tone remained calm—too calm. "Why, conquer this planet, of course. Just as you intend to."
Clark stared at him in silence, the wind gently rustling his cape. Then, in an emotionless voice, he asked, "What makes you think I want to conquer Earth?"
X'under tilted his head in genuine confusion, as though Clark's words simply didn't compute. "Is that not your purpose? You parade around in their skies, rescuing them from threats, playing the part of a savior. All signs point to you laying the foundation for control. It is an ingenious, strategical plan. Most impressive. Gain their trust, learn their weaknesses, and slowly, methodically, bring them under my rule. I do not know what your ultimate goal is, but I am certain it aligns with domination. We could work together, pool our resources, divide the world between us if necessary—"
Clark cut him off, his voice now filled with steel. "Listen here, buddy. I don't know what twisted logic brought you to that conclusion, but let me make something perfectly clear: I'm not here to conquer anyone. I'm not playing a role. Earth is not mine to control, and it sure as hell isn't yours either. This planet is under my protection. Any being that threatens it—any being with conquest in their heart—is unwelcome. So I'll give you one chance. One. Leave this planet peacefully… or be removed by force."
Clark's eyes began to glow, red and searing, pulsing with the energy of his heat vision.
X'under blinked, caught off guard. For the first time, the alien's composure faltered. "I see… You truly believe yourself to be this world's guardian. I detect no falsehoods in your statement." He tilted his head again, this time with a hint of disdain. "How utterly foolish."
A sudden, piercing pain struck Clark's mind like a lightning bolt. His vision blurred. He staggered in midair, clutching his temples as a telepathic assault dug deep into his consciousness. Krypto whimpered beside him, eyes squeezed shut, clearly affected by the same mental intrusion.
Clark gritted his teeth, trying to resist, but the pain was unlike anything he'd felt before. His mind throbbed. His stomach churned. The world around him warped, as if he were being pulled in two.
"I only asked you out of courtesy," X'under's voice echoed telepathically. "I had hoped to avoid violence, but you leave me no choice. In truth, this may benefit me more. I'll make you my puppet, and together we'll forge the perfect hybrid—"
Before he could finish, X'under choked, eyes going wide. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Clark had vanished and reappeared in an instant, his fist driven deep into X'under's abdomen. The force of the punch sent out a shockwave, tearing through the sky. Clones of X'under had been pushed out from him by Clark's strength, littering the skies as they tumbled out from the shockwave. The telepath's eyes dimmed slightly as he was launched backward like a missile, crashing through a skyscraper with a deafening boom.
Hovering in the air, Clark wiped a trickle of blood from his nose with his thumb. His face was grim.
"You should've left when you had the chance," he said coldly, staring into the distance where X'under had vanished into rubble and smoke. "Now suffer the consequences of your choices"
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