Reforged in the Sun: Clark Kent Reborn SI

The sky of Krypton burned red, a color so vibrant and deep it seemed alive, as if the heavens themselves were screaming. The twin suns cast jagged shadows across the crystalline spires of the capital city, their light refracting off the faceted buildings like a fractured kaleidoscope. The once-pristine air now carried the acrid tang of molten stone and chemicals as the planet quaked beneath its dying core.

In the laboratory of Jor-El, one of Krypton's most brilliant minds, there was no time for sentiment. The soft hum of machinery filled the room, punctuated by the urgent voices of Jor-El and his wife, Lara Lor-Van. They worked in unison, their faces tight with focus but shadowed by grief.

The infant Kal-El lay nestled in a cradle of metal and light. His tiny fists waved in the air, unaware of the chaos around him.

Lara knelt beside her son, her hands trembling as she smoothed the soft blue cloth wrapped around him. "Jor-El," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Is there truly no other way?"

Jor-El hesitated, his fingers pausing over the console. "If there were, Lara, I would take it. But Krypton's fate is sealed. The Council refused to listen. This is the only chance our son has."

Lara pressed her lips to Kal-El's forehead, her tears falling onto the fabric. The warmth of her love filled the room even as the distant rumble of collapsing towers grew louder.

Jor-El's voice softened as he turned to his wife. "He will carry our legacy. He will live." His tone grew firm again. "And one day, he will make a choice—to honor Krypton's memory or to forge his own path."

The pod, sleek and streamlined, rested in the center of the lab, its crystalline surface pulsing with a gentle blue light. Jor-El pressed a series of commands, and the pod's engine began to hum. Lights danced across its surface, casting flickering shadows across the lab walls.

Lara's sobs were silent as she placed Kal-El inside the pod. His wide, innocent eyes met hers, unknowing yet full of trust. She leaned in close, her voice trembling but resolute.

"Kal-El," she said. "Be strong. Be kind. Be everything Krypton could not be."

The pod sealed shut with a soft hiss. Jor-El and Lara stepped back, their hands entwined as the pod rose into the air. The lab doors blew open with a deafening crash, the winds of Krypton's demise howling through the chamber. Firelight illuminated the determination etched into Jor-El's face and the heartbreak in Lara's.

The pod shot into the sky, a comet trailing hope and despair.

As the first explosions of Krypton's core lit the horizon, Jor-El turned to Lara. "He will live, Lara. He will live."

I woke in the void.

Or rather, I was reborn into it. My first sensation was warmth—not the gentle warmth of blankets or sunlight, but something deeper, more all-encompassing. It seeped into me, filling every cell of my body with a slow, steady pulse. I was weightless, wrapped in softness, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming.

Then came the memories.

They didn't trickle in; they slammed into me like a freight train. Fractured images of another life, another world—sitting on a couch, reading Superman comics, laughing with friends. My name, my face, my existence as a regular man from Earth—all of it hit me at once.

But now I wasn't that person. I wasn't on Earth. I wasn't even... me. My hands were small, tiny fists barely strong enough to grasp the cloth wrapped around me. My body was helpless, weak, but my mind was alive, buzzing with thoughts that didn't belong in the head of an infant.

"No, no, no..." I thought. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

The hum of machinery filled the air around me, smooth and rhythmic, a sound that seemed to cradle me as much as the pod did. I forced myself to focus, to push past the panic. My vision was blurred, but I could see faint lights flickering—soft blues and whites that bathed the curved interior of the pod. It was sleek, almost organic, with patterns that looked like veins running through the metal.

Then I heard it. A voice, deep and resonant, speaking a language I somehow understood instinctively.

"Kal-El," it said. "My son. If you are hearing this, then Krypton is no more."

Jor-El's voice. The voice of the father I'd never meet yet knew so intimately from stories. My heart—or whatever emotional center I had now—twisted painfully. The voice continued, explaining Krypton's destruction and my purpose. The Codex. The culmination of Krypton's knowledge and DNA, embedded within me.

"Protect the Codex. Secure the legacy of our people. You will find strength under the yellow sun of Earth, Kal-El. You will be extraordinary."

The weight of those words crushed me. I wasn't just Kal-El, wasn't just Superman. I was the hope of an entire civilization. Billions of lives, their history, their potential—everything rested in my cells.

The pod shuddered, and the hum grew louder. Lights flickered across the surface, signaling an imminent entry into Earth's atmosphere. Outside, the infinite black of space began to give way to a golden glow.

The sun.

It was unlike anything I'd ever seen, both familiar and alien. Its light pierced the pod, warm and radiant, filling me with an energy I couldn't describe. It wasn't just heat; it was life itself, awakening something deep within me. I felt... stronger. More awake. More alive.

But the euphoria was short-lived as the pod jolted violently, the atmosphere tearing at its surface. Flames licked at the edges of the window, and I could feel the sheer force of the descent vibrating through me.

The pod hurtled toward the Earth, a blazing comet streaking across the Kansas sky. Below, the fields of Smallville stretched out like a patchwork quilt, golden and green under the afternoon sun. A small farmhouse stood in the distance, its red barn weathered but sturdy.

The pod smashed into the ground with a deafening impact, throwing up a plume of dirt and debris. The crater it left behind was deep and smoldering, its edges blackened and cracked.

From the nearby farmhouse, a man and a woman rushed out. Jonathan and Martha Kent. Even in their hurried movements, there was something steady, something warm about them. Martha's auburn hair caught the sunlight, and Jonathan's strong, weathered hands gripped a flashlight as they approached the site.

"What in the world..." Jonathan muttered, his voice rough with disbelief.

Martha clutched his arm. "Jonathan, look!"

They peered into the crater, their eyes widening as they saw the pod. Its sleek, alien surface gleamed faintly, steam rising from its edges. Then, as the hatch hissed open, their gaze fell on me—a baby, wrapped in blue, blinking up at them with wide, curious eyes.

Martha gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Jonathan... it's a baby."

Jonathan stared, his brow furrowed. "A baby? Out here? Martha, this... this thing isn't from Earth. Look at it."

Martha ignored him, stepping closer. Her voice softened as she knelt beside the pod. "He's just a baby, Jonathan. Look at him. He needs us."

Jonathan hesitated, his eyes darting between the pod and me. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing. "Alright," he said. "We'll take him home. But we've got to be careful, Martha. If anyone comes looking for this thing..."

"We'll protect him," Martha said firmly. "No matter what."

She reached into the pod, her hands warm and steady as she lifted me into her arms. I felt her heartbeat, strong and steady, and for the first time since I awoke in this new body, I felt safe.