Reforged in the Sun: Clark Kent Reborn SI

The sun rose sluggishly over Smallville, as if reluctant to light a town weighed down by fear. Main Street was unusually quiet, the shops barely open, their owners too distracted by the recent string of strange events. Whispers carried across the diner's tables and in the hardware store's aisles—stories of fires, freak accidents, and people who could no longer be trusted.

At school, the tension bled into the hallways. Students gathered in clusters, their conversations hushed. Teachers who once gave lectures about crop yields or Kansas history now warned about staying safe, as though danger was an inevitable storm looming over us.

I walked through the hallways, keeping my head down. My powers were growing—faster than I could fully control—and every encounter with a "meteor freak," as Pete had started calling them, left me feeling like a ticking bomb. I couldn't tell anyone, not even my friends. My secret wasn't just mine to keep; it was the only way to protect everyone around me.

The hallways of Smallville High were buzzing with activity as the bell rang, signaling the start of lunch. Posters for the upcoming Harvest Festival hung crookedly on the walls, their bright orange and yellow colors a stark contrast to the drab lockers they decorated. I grabbed my lunch tray, dodging the sea of students, and found a spot at the far end of the cafeteria.

Pete Ross slid into the seat across from me, a wide grin on his face. "Clark, you're coming to the festival this weekend, right?"

I shrugged, picking at my sandwich. "Maybe. Depends on how much homework Mrs. Fischer decides to pile on us this week."

Pete rolled his eyes. "You're sixteen, man. Live a little. Besides, Lana's going to be there. You've been mooning over her since fifth grade."

I felt my cheeks heat up. Pete wasn't wrong, but it wasn't that simple. Lana Lang was everything I wasn't—confident, graceful, and seemingly untouchable. And with her boyfriend Whitney Fordman, the school's star quarterback, always by her side, I wasn't exactly eager to make a fool of myself.

Before I could respond, Chloe Sullivan dropped her bag on the table and sat down beside Pete. Her energy was contagious, her curiosity insatiable.

"Did you guys hear about the power outage last night?" she asked, pulling out a notebook. "Apparently, the sheriff said it started near that abandoned factory on the edge of town."

I stiffened, keeping my gaze on my tray. Chloe's knack for digging into the town's mysteries had gotten her into trouble more than once, and I couldn't afford for her to start connecting dots that led to me.

The Harvest Festival was the highlight of autumn in Smallville. Rows of booths lined the town square, each offering something unique—fresh apple cider, handmade crafts, pumpkin carving contests. Strings of warm lights crisscrossed above, their soft glow bathing everything in a golden hue as the sun set.

Pete had dragged me along, his enthusiasm contagious. He darted from booth to booth, convincing me to try every sample of pie, cider, and candy he could find. Chloe was there too, snapping pictures for an article she was writing for The Torch, the school newspaper.

I spotted Lana by the hayride station, her laughter ringing out as she helped a group of kids climb onto the wagon. She looked radiant, her red scarf catching the wind. I felt a pang of longing, but I quickly shoved it down. She was happy, and that was enough.

As the festival carried on, a sense of unease began to creep in. It was subtle at first—lights flickering, a chill in the air that didn't belong on such a mild night. Then, I saw him.

A man lingered near the edge of the square, his figure barely visible in the dim light. His movements were jerky, his shoulders hunched. A faint, greenish glow surrounded him, like a haze of mist clinging to his body.

I stepped away from the crowd, keeping to the shadows as I followed him. My heart pounded as I realized he wasn't just loitering—he was watching the crowd, his gaze predatory.

Suddenly, he moved. His hand shot out toward a nearby electrical pole, and a surge of green energy burst from his palm, sending sparks flying. The lights overhead shattered, plunging the area into partial darkness. People screamed and scattered, their laughter replaced with panic.

I didn't hesitate. Pulling my hood up to obscure my face, I darted toward the man, keeping my steps silent. As I closed the distance, I saw the way the green energy crackled along his arms, his veins glowing with the same eerie light. His eyes were wild, his expression twisted with rage and desperation.

"Stop," I said, my voice firm but calm. "You don't want to do this. Think about what's happening around you."

He turned sharply, his gaze locking onto me. "They don't care about me," he snarled. "Why should I care about them?"

Before I could respond, he raised his hands, and a wave of energy shot toward me. I barely dodged in time, the blast tearing through a nearby booth and sending splinters of wood flying. Pain flared in my arm as a shard grazed me, but I pushed forward.

He lunged at me, his movements erratic but fast. I ducked under his swing, delivering a sharp punch to his side. My fist connected with a sickening crack, but he didn't go down. Instead, he swung back, his glowing fist striking my chest and sending me sprawling.

The force of the hit left me gasping, my ribs screaming in protest. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else.

The fight was relentless. He was stronger than I anticipated, his blows fueled by raw, uncontrolled energy. Every hit sent shockwaves through my body, and I knew I couldn't keep this up forever.

I managed to land a few solid punches, each one sending sparks flying from his glowing skin. But he was relentless, his rage driving him forward. He grabbed me by the jacket and slammed me into the ground, the impact rattling my teeth.

My vision blurred as he stood over me, his hands crackling with green energy. "You don't know what it's like," he growled, his voice shaking. "To feel this... this power burning inside you, tearing you apart!"

Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out the vial of Kryptonite serum I had prepared earlier. The green liquid shimmered faintly, its glow barely visible against the chaotic light show surrounding us.

He saw it and froze, his eyes narrowing. "What is that?"

I rose slowly, the vial clutched tightly in my hand. "It's the answer," I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging around me. "You're not in control right now, but this can help you take it back."

He hesitated, the arcs of energy around him flickering. For a moment, I thought he would listen. But then his face hardened, and he shook his head violently. "I don't trust you!"

He charged, and I had no choice but to act. As he closed the distance, I hurled the vial toward him. It shattered against his chest, the liquid spreading across his skin and soaking into the pulsing green veins.

The effect was immediate. His body convulsed as the energy around him dimmed, the arcs of electricity shrinking until they disappeared entirely. He collapsed to his knees, his breathing ragged but steady. The green glow faded from his veins, leaving behind pale, trembling skin.

I approached cautiously, my body still buzzing from the fight. "How do you feel?" I asked, my voice softer now.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with something between relief and disbelief. "It's... gone," he said hoarsely. "The pain—it's gone."

The festival square was quiet now, the wreckage bathed in the glow of firetruck lights as the firefighters worked to contain the remaining damage. I slipped away before anyone could connect me to what had happened, my hood pulled low as I disappeared into the night.

Back at the farm, I stood in the storm cellar, staring at the ship. Its soft hum filled the space, a constant reminder of the legacy I carried. I placed a hand on its surface, the warmth seeping into my palm as the holographic image of Jor-El materialized.

"You've done well, my son," he said, his voice steady. "But this is only the beginning. The Codex holds the key to stabilizing more of these transformations, but you must learn to refine your methods."

I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me. The fight had been brutal, but the serum had worked. It was proof that there was a way to help more people—and that I was capable of finding it.

As I stepped back into the cool night air, the stars stretched endlessly above me. I wasn't just fighting for Smallville anymore. I was fighting for a better future, one I could help shape with every choice I made.