Smallville, Kansas. Kent Farm.
The disappearance of the setting sun brought darkness to the world.
At night in Kansas, the stars always shone brightly, and the sky was clear.
Even when it was overcast, it was never like tonight, it carried a weighty, suffocating feeling that pressed down on the Kent couple.
It felt as if the darkness had transformed into the sky itself, draping over the earth.
An indescribable heaviness clung to their hearts.
Jonathan held his wife tightly, placing Martha's head on his shoulder, comforting her with silent reassurance.
He stared into the distance.
The massive, terrifying, deafening sound had stopped once again.
His gaze was intense; he didn't want to hear that sound again.
He no longer wanted to feel the earth's wailing, the trembling of the sands, or the fear that seeped into every nerve.
It was a feeling of utter helplessness—like facing a giant's arbitrary trampling. Landslides and ruptures of the earth made weak humans tremble in fear.
All he could do was hold Martha's arm tightly, offering her a sliver of comfort.
Martha leaned against Jonathan, feeling the warmth from his body. A sudden sense of security rose within her.
She looked down at the swaddled baby in her arms with a loving gaze—Clark.
Clark seemed tired, breathing softly as he drifted off to sleep. His little face was soft and full, making one instinctively want to kiss him.
Martha's tense expression softened. Seeing Clark's adorable sleeping face brought a faint smile to her lips and helped her relax.
Suddenly—
Jonathan's grip on Martha's hand tightened, and he quickly pulled her back.
Startled, Martha instinctively followed, holding Clark tightly.
She didn't even have time to ask why.
In the dark sky above.
A mournful figure descended in a parabolic arc toward them.
It was strikingly visible against the night sky.
Because it had fallen far behind from something else, the figure landed dozens of meters away from them.
Their hearts clenched as they realized it was a werewolf-like figure falling from the sky.
They could vaguely make out the sunken right side of the canine face, moaning weakly, its body severely mangled. The abdominal cavity was torn open, its white spine faintly visible, and its internal organs writhed with regenerating granulation. Blood soaked into the ground immediately, spreading a thick metallic stench that stabbed at Jonathan and Martha's noses.
In the darkness, the sight was especially jarring to their vision, making them freeze in horror.
"Aah—!"
Martha gasped, clutching the swaddle tightly.
It was a werewolf, the kind said to be the mortal enemy of vampires. A human body with the head of a wolf.
This one was brutally beaten—body broken, white spine exposed, blood gushing. Just one glance and it was obvious this creature had been savaged in a battle with its mortal enemy, likely a vampire, before crashing down in front of them.
Jonathan's breath hitched. He stared at the werewolf, eyes wide and tense. When he saw the creature was too injured to move, he finally let out a breath.
He released Martha's hand and cautiously stepped forward.
"Jonathan…"
Martha called out nervously behind him, eyes locked on his back.
"It's okay."
Jonathan turned and nodded, motioning for Martha to stay put. Martha bit her lip and nodded, worry in her eyes.
Jonathan turned back and stared at the werewolf, eyes flickering with shock. Somehow… the wolf's face looked familiar.
He stepped carefully through the mud, holding his breath, approaching step by step.
"Go… take Clark… and leave!"
Jor-El was lying on the ground, his sharp broken claws digging deep into the soil. He raised his wolf head with great effort, groaning in pain, and vomited blood.
He had no strength to resist. Kryptonian physiology was utterly devastated under Bardi's magical true form. The injuries inflicted by Bardi's real body were far more severe than those of his clones—destructive gene collapse and explosive force suppressed his healing ability and weakened his cells.
Jonathan's eyes narrowed, his breath held, and for a moment he stood frozen, his gaze filled with disbelief.
When the werewolf lifted its head, he saw the small red cord buried beneath its fur, it was Krypto, who had come with Clark to their home.
He had spent much time with Krypto and knew about the red string around its neck hidden under the fur.
"Krypto… is that you?"
Jonathan asked in disbelief, looking down at the mangled body on the ground. The scene of torn flesh and flowing blood made his heart pound wildly and his chest tighten.
Krypto was barely breathing, blood foaming at the mouth, shattered teeth visible. Its remaining eye stared at Jonathan with grief and helplessness.
That was enough for Jonathan to know for sure—it was Krypto.
He didn't know what kind of battle it had fought, but it had ended up in this state.
"Krypto, it really is you!"
Jonathan choked out, about to rush forward to help.
This was Krypto—the smart, loyal companion who'd always been with Clark. A part of their family.
But in the next moment, Jonathan's footsteps halted.
His heart clenched once more.
From the distance, a massive dark figure approached. What had started as a small silhouette seemed to cover thousands of meters with each step. That massive form moved like a mountain drifting forward, evoking primal fear.
The immense pressure was accompanied by a booming voice that thundered in Jonathan's ears. The voice was deep, firm, and cold with restrained fury.
"You knew—the Kryptonian Council would never listen to you."
"You've always known!"
"You knew it from the very beginning!"
"That's why the Codex of Life was taken away early!"
Bardi was five meters tall, with a towering frame. His dark eyes stared down coldly.
Before him, the wolf-like body on the ground became nothing more than a wounded lamb, with no strength even to cry or lick its wounds.
Jonathan swallowed hard, his heart pounding, his legs shaking with weakness down to the marrow. Sweat streamed down his back.
Bardi's presence hit him with violent intensity.
Standing five meters tall, his thick, powerful legs supported an inverted-triangle torso, muscles sharply defined and cloaked in a swirling dark mist. He looked like a demonic god who had walked out of the abyss.
In the night's faint moonlight, his massive body cast a long shadow across the ground, engulfing Jonathan entirely in darkness and cold.
"I… preserved the spark of Kryptonian civilization…"
Jor-El, in his canine form, stared at Bardi with one bloodshot eye, his voice hoarse and filled with rage.
He had always known Bardi wanted the Codex of Life.
Bardi's face remained cold. His dark pupils stared down like ice as his words cut to the bone.
"Then why didn't you give it to Hael, or me, or Zod?!"
(To be continued.)
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