Reforged in the Sun: Clark Kent Reborn SI

November 4, 2002 – Morning

The rising sun spilled over the Kent farm, bathing the golden fields in light. The crisp air carried the earthy scent of fresh-turned soil and last night's rain, but the peace of the morning couldn't settle the storm in my chest.

The beacon's core sat hidden in the bunker below, its faint blue glow still burned into my memory. But that wasn't what weighed on me the most. For days, I'd been so consumed with Kryptonian technology, Va-Ra's schemes, and the signal that had been sent into space, I'd forgotten how long I'd stayed away from the life I was supposed to be living.

The life my parents gave everything to give me.

I leaned against the side of the barn, staring out at the cornfields, but I wasn't really seeing them. My thoughts were on Smallville High. Pete. Chloe. Lana. The people who knew me as Clark Kent, not Kal-El of Krypton. Could I keep being Clark when so much of my life was consumed by Krypton's legacy?

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. I turned to see Dad walking toward me, wiping his hands on a rag. His face was lined with concern, but his eyes held the steady, grounding calm that had gotten me through so much before.

"You've been quiet this morning," he said, stopping next to me.

I sighed, looking down at my hands. They still felt sore from the fight in the basement. Not physically—Kryptonian physiology saw to that—but in a way that lingered deeper. "I've just… been thinking."

"About Krypton?" he asked, his voice soft.

"About everything," I said, meeting his eyes. "The bunker, the beacon, the signal. There's so much out there, Dad. So much I don't understand. I feel like every time I think I'm making progress, I just uncover something worse. And now, with what's coming…"

He nodded slowly, glancing toward the barn. "I know you've got a lot on your shoulders, Clark. More than anyone else your age ever should. But you can't let it take over your life. You've got school, friends, a life outside of Krypton."

I frowned. "But if I don't focus on this—"

"If you don't focus on you," he interrupted, "you'll burn out. You're already carrying enough weight for ten men. Don't make it heavier by cutting yourself off from the people who care about you."

His words hit hard, but he was right. Krypton's legacy wasn't the only thing I had to protect.

"Go to school," he said, his voice lighter now. "You can't protect this world if you forget how to live in it."

Returning to Smallville High felt strange, like slipping into a pair of shoes I'd outgrown. The hallway was alive with the hum of students, the chatter of conversations bouncing off the lockers and blending with the shrill sound of the bell. Everything looked the same, but it felt so different.

I walked past posters for the winter formal and science club tryouts, trying to ignore the stares of the students I passed. They probably thought I'd just been skipping school, but if they only knew the truth—how I'd spent my days battling Kryptonian threats and uncovering pieces of my alien past.

At my locker, I was greeted by Chloe Sullivan, who was waiting with her signature inquisitive expression. Her cropped blonde hair framed her face as she leaned against the metal door, her laptop bag slung casually over her shoulder.

"Well, well, look who decided to join us mere mortals," she said, smirking.

I sighed, turning the combination on my lock. "Hey, Chloe."

"'Hey, Chloe'?" she repeated. "That's all I get after you disappeared off the face of the Earth? You've been MIA for days, Clark. What gives?"

"I've just been busy," I said, forcing a casual tone. "Farm work."

Her raised eyebrow told me she wasn't buying it. "Uh-huh. You've got to work on your poker face, Kent. There's no way this is just 'farm work.'"

She lowered her voice, leaning closer. "You know, there was a massive power surge at school a few nights ago. The kind that fries security cameras. And now here you are, looking all broody and mysterious. So… what gives?"

"I don't know anything about that," I lied quickly.

She studied me for a long moment, her green eyes narrowing. Then, to my relief, she let out an exaggerated sigh and stepped back. "Fine, keep your secrets. But you owe me a scoop someday, Clark."

Pete Ross arrived a second later, sliding up beside me with his usual easy grin. His curly hair was slightly disheveled, and his basketball jersey peeked out from under his hoodie.

"Clark, my man!" he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Thought we lost you to the farm for good. You missed the pickup game last week—you should've seen my three-pointer. It was glorious."

"I'll bet," I said with a small smile. Pete had always been the glue that held us together, his humor a constant even when things got tense.

I barely made it through the school day. Sitting through algebra and history while pretending I wasn't carrying the weight of Krypton's legacy felt like trying to balance two lives that were pulling me apart.

By the time gym class rolled around, I felt like I was on autopilot. The teacher had us running laps around the field, the late autumn air biting at my skin.

But as I ran, something strange happened.

I'd always been faster than the other students, even when I held back. But this time, it felt different. My feet barely touched the ground, and the world around me seemed to blur as I moved.

At first, I thought it was just adrenaline, but as I glanced back, I realized I'd already lapped everyone else—twice.

"Clark!" the gym teacher barked from the sidelines. "Slow it down!"

I skidded to a stop, my heart racing. I'd been careful about hiding my strength before, but this—this was new. It wasn't just speed. It was something deeper, more instinctual, like my body was waking up to something I didn't fully understand.

As I caught my breath, I clenched my fists, feeling the faint hum of energy coursing through me. Krypton's legacy wasn't just in its technology. It was in me.

The bunker beneath the barn was cold and quiet as I descended the ladder, my boots hitting the steel floor with a faint thud. The single room I'd built so far felt cramped, the glowing core from the beacon casting soft blue light across the walls.

I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough.

The beacon's signal was out there, and I didn't know who—or what—might be coming. If I was going to protect Earth, I needed more than just a single room. I needed a fortress.

I grabbed a shovel and got to work, digging into the earth with the kind of strength only a Kryptonian could muster. Dirt flew in all directions as I carved out additional chambers, the sound of the shovel hitting rock echoing through the confined space.

One room became two, then three. Each was reinforced with steel plates and lead-lined walls, salvaged from construction sites and old barns. One chamber would house the Kryptonian artifacts I uncovered. Another would serve as a lab, where I could analyze the core and other fragments of Krypton's technology.

By the time I finished, hours had passed, and my muscles ached. But the bunker was finally starting to feel like more than just a room. It was a sanctuary. A place where I could prepare for the storm that was coming.

I stood in the main chamber, staring at the core resting in its containment unit. Its soft glow reflected in my eyes as I clenched my fists.

"I'm not just protecting Earth," I muttered. "I'm protecting everyone I care about."