[Third Person Pov]
Clark was already tensing to take off the moment he heard the distant clang of the school bell echo through the air—so loud and distinct that he was able to perfectly hear it all the way from Canada.
At the moment, Clark wasn't anywhere near his school. He stood within an artificial battleground created by the Empty Space Projector, an isolated pocket of reality that resembled a hollowed-out city. Everything around them was muted and lifeless, boxed in by vast black borders that swallowed the horizon. Snow whipped violently through the air, carried by unnatural winds.
At the center of the frozen chaos stood a wendigo.
The supernatural creature towered over the empty streets, its elongated frame cloaked in thick, icy blue fur. Its face was nothing but the bleached skull of a moose, hollow eye sockets glowing faintly as massive antlers stretched skyward like twisted branches. From its very presence, a raging blizzard spiraled outward, frost crawling across buildings and pavement alike.
"Come on, Superdog—let's hurry it up," Clark called out, his voice carrying easily through the howling wind as he streaked through the falling snow.
Krypto responded with an eager howl as he darted through the air, narrowly dodging the wendigo's long, slender arms as they slashed and snapped toward him. The creature moved with disturbing speed despite its size.
As Krypto maneuvered, his super-suit shifted fluidly, crimson sand-like material rising and molding itself into a pair of snug goggles over his eyes.
Krypto's expression sharpened.
His eyes flared brightly as he unleashed twin streams of intense heat—molten energy mixed with searing lava—straight into the creature's chest. He zipped around the wendigo at blinding speed, coating it layer by layer in the glowing, viscous substance. The molten coating clung stubbornly to the creature's fur and bones, almost resembling thick, golden maple syrup as it spread.
But the wendigo's blizzard fought back.
The unnatural cold surged, rapidly cooling the lava until it hardened and cracked. What had been liquid heat quickly transformed into solid, jagged stone. The creature roared in frustration, trying to lunge forward, but its movements slowed, joints locking in place as the stone crept across its body.
Within seconds, the wendigo froze completely.
It stood motionless, transformed into a massive stone statue—arms stretched out toward Krypto, its monstrous features locked forever in a silent snarl.
Krypto didn't hesitate.
He became a streak of motion, accelerating forward with all his strength and momentum. With a thunderous impact, he slammed into the statue, shattering it into countless fragments. Stone exploded outward, collapsing into rubble that rained harmlessly onto the empty streets below.
With the threat eliminated, the Empty Space began to dissolve. The black borders peeled away, and reality rushed back in. The empty city was replaced with a living one—cars honking below, people moving through crowded streets, the familiar chaos of everyday life returning as if nothing had happened.
Krypto floated over to Clark, tail wagging proudly.
Clark smiled and reached out, scratching behind Krypto's ears and ruffling his fur affectionately. He leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
"As much fun as this was," Clark said warmly, "I've got to get back to school. I'll be back soon, and we can pick up where we left off. Think you can handle things on your own until then?"
Krypto puffed out his chest and let out a confident, reassuring howl—Leave it to me.
"That's what I like to hear," Clark smirked.
They turned away from each other and shot off in opposite directions at super speed, becoming nothing more than invisible blurs as they vanished from sight.
As Clark neared his school, he slowed just enough to spot an unfortunate complication. Lois was arriving at the rooftop, climbing the stairs toward the entrance. Clark let out an annoyed grunt under his breath.
'Great. Guess I need another way in.'
…
Moments later, Clark exited the school bathroom, calmly drying his hands before tossing the used paper towel into the bin. He stepped into the hallway, blending in as students streamed past him, all heading toward lunch. The noise was loud but familiar—voices overlapping, laughter echoing off the walls.
After walking for a bit, Clark noticed Haruna a short distance ahead.
She was struggling under the weight of a massive stack of papers held tightly against her chest—so many that she had to tilt her head awkwardly to the side just to see where she was going.
Before Clark could say anything, a third-year student bumped into her shoulder. The impact sent Haruna stumbling forward, her grip breaking as the papers flew everywhere, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves.
The third year barely even glanced back.
He stepped on one of the papers in front of him, didn't apologize, and continued walking as if nothing had happened—still chatting casually with his friend. Seconds later, he walked straight into Clark's chest.
The impact sent the third year stumbling backward, hands flying up to his face as he winced in pain.
Clark, however, didn't budge an inch.
"Are you seriously not going to help her pick it up?" Clark questioned, his gaze narrowing as he looked down at the third year.
"Huh? Why would I?" the senior replied with a scoff, clearly annoyed. "She bumped into me. How is that my problem?"
Before Clark could respond, Haruna began gathering the scattered sheets as she was already on the floor, her movements rushed and apologetic.
"Ah—Clark, it's fine," she said softly, forcing a small smile. "It was an accident. I should've been paying more attention to where I was going."
Clark shot her a brief glance, his expression firm. "Haruna, don't you dare pick up another sheet."
She froze mid-motion, startled by his tone.
Clark then turned back to the third year, his posture straightening as his presence seemed to loom larger.
"And you—don't you have any manners?" he continued coldly. "She's your junior. The least you could do is act like a decent human being and help her."
The senior laughed, though it came out hollow.
"Hahaha, what's your deal? Are you trying to pick a fight or something?" he said, waving a dismissive hand. "If she needs help so bad, why don't you help her—"
Clark stepped forward.
The distance between them vanished in an instant, and the third year subconsciously took a half-step back. Clark stood over him, eyes sharp, voice low and dangerously calm.
"Help. Her. Pick it. Up."
As he finished speaking, Clark's eyes shimmered faintly—almost imperceptibly—with a cold blue glow. "Or trust me," he added quietly, "I will make you get on your knees and do it."
The change was immediate.
Something about Clark's tone—measured, unwavering—sent a chill down the senior's spine. His bravado cracked, replaced by a visible tremble. Every instinct in his body screamed that this wasn't a bluff.
"Alright—alright, geez…" he muttered, averting his gaze.
He crouched down stiffly and began picking up the fallen sheets, his movements quick and silent.
As he did, Clark turned back to Haruna and gently helped her to her feet.
"Thank you…" she murmured, her cheeks warming as she avoided his eyes.
After a moment, the third year stood back up and handed the uneven stack of papers to Haruna.
"Sorry…" he mumbled, barely audible.
He then glanced at Clark, irritation flashing across his face.
"So… are we good?"
Clark didn't answer him immediately. Instead, he looked at Haruna, raising an eyebrow slightly and silently leaving the decision up to her.
Haruna hesitated, then nodded timidly. "It's fine," she said quietly. "Like I said, it was an accident. I should've been more careful."
Clark exhaled through his nose and turned back to the senior. "According to her, we're good," he said flatly. "But next time, try being a better senior—and we won't have a problem."
The boy scoffed under his breath and marched past them, clearly annoyed but smart enough not to say anything else.
Clark watched him go before shaking his head. He then took the stack of papers from Haruna's hands without asking and started walking down the hall.
"Come on," he said over his shoulder. "Lead the way."
"Huh?" Haruna exclaimed in surprise as she stared at her suddenly empty hands. "Wait—I had it—"
"It's fine," Clark interrupted with an exasperated sigh. "Stop being stubborn and let me help you. Just tell me where we're going."
Haruna's lips twitched uncertainly, torn between protest and gratitude.
"Th-the faculty room…" she muttered.
She walked beside him as they made their way down the corridor. Whispers followed them, curious glances lingering longer than usual. Haruna could feel everyone's eyes on her back, and she couldn't help but flush a deeper shade of red as she stayed close to Clark's side.
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