Boom!
A loud sonic boom erupted.
A massive hole suddenly burst open in the corner of the Kent family's wooden house.
Inside, the lighting was dim—it was dusk, but not dark enough to require lamps. In an instant, the red light from outside streamed through the gaping hole, while needle-like splinters of wood shot inward, piercing the air.
The house trembled violently as if struck by an earthquake. The deafening explosion rattled the ears of Jonathan Kent and his wife, Martha, filling them with a sharp ringing.
"What—?!"
Martha let out a scream, instinctively clutching Clark against her chest. Wooden splinters streaked across her face, leaving red welts, and a few even embedded themselves in her skin, making her features contort in pain.
Unsteady, she collapsed into a chair, holding Clark tightly. Her body curled around him protectively, shielding him from the direction of the blast.
Then another figure moved to cover them both.
Jonathan Kent had reacted even faster. Using the force of the explosion's airwave, he lunged toward his wife, throwing his arms wide and pressing both her and Clark to the floor. His back bore the brunt of the debris. Though the wooden shards didn't penetrate too deeply, their appearance was gruesome.
Splintered wood and dust filled the house. Broken fragments of wood swirled in the air, spreading through the entire space like a thick fog.
Above the dining table, the chandelier swung wildly, creaking with a strained whump-whump-whump sound, as if it might snap from its chain at any moment.
The sudden disaster had struck in an instant—just as quickly, it settled.
The house remained standing. American wooden homes had excellent earthquake resistance. Their flexible wooden structures could absorb shock and withstand sudden impact better than many reinforced concrete buildings.
Though a large hole had been torn into the house, and the blue roof over the damaged section had deformed, pressing the eaves downward, the overall structure held firm. Strips of torn wood revealed the explosive force of the blast, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't catastrophic.
"Ugh…"
Jonathan Kent groaned as a burning pain spread across his back, searing through his nerves. He frowned, his expression tightening. He could feel at least six or seven wooden splinters embedded in his muscles. Fortunately, they weren't too large or too deep.
He didn't immediately pull Martha up. Instead, he scanned the surroundings, ensuring the area was safe.
Waving away the dust, he squinted toward the hole where wooden planks had been torn apart. For a moment, his eyes froze, the pain in his back completely forgotten.
Outside, a dense sonic boom cloud still lingered near the hole, as if a supersonic jet had just blasted through at ground level. The shockwave left a long trail stretching into the distance. The golden rays of the setting sun illuminated the scene, painting it in a surreal glow before gradually fading.
The sonic boom cloud had carved a path straight through the cornfield.
Jor-El had broken the sound barrier in an instant, ripping through the air. Along the way, the towering green cornstalks bent and thrashed, their young sprouts torn away. In the vast green ocean of crops, it was as if an invisible airship had streaked through, sending waves of crushed cornstalks scattering in both directions.
Ripples of air pressure surrounded him, overwhelming the fields in a hundred-meter radius.
His powerful limbs had leveraged against the ground to explode into supersonic speed, accumulating terrifying kinetic energy. His entire body burned with intense heat, his fur clinging tightly to his frame like shrink-wrapped plastic. Behind him, a white air curtain trailed in his wake.
This kind of ground-based propulsion was even faster than flying, more violent, more destructive.
"Barmulodi!!"
He roared, his fangs bared in fury. His voice was guttural, deep, and thunderous.
His limbs bulged with muscle, veins pulsing as if something was crawling beneath his skin. His blood surged wildly, pushing his body forward at an extreme speed. Sonic booms erupted behind him, shockwaves tearing through the landscape, spreading destruction for miles.
Opposite him, Bardi did not flinch.
His massive frame tore through the white turbulence, each step an explosion of force. Every footfall left massive craters in the ground, each pit growing larger as his momentum built.
Then, in an instant, he shattered the sound barrier. A ring of sonic boom clouds expanded outward, rippling through the air like an explosion.
His windbreaker had already caught fire. Sparks trailed from its edges, flickering like embers in the rushing wind. Moving at supersonic speed, the burning fabric sent waves of heat rolling off his body. His black hair whipped wildly, his entire form wreathed in fire.
The veins around his eyes bulged, his pupils gleaming with a deep crimson glow, like a predator gazing from the abyss.
He held his head high, his face a picture of raw brutality. The scar running across his features twisted as he moved, adding to his savage, terrifying presence.
There was no possibility of reconciliation.
No conversation to be had.
No stopping.
He had to protect his son. He had to judge the criminals of Krypton.
He had to fight for survival. And settle old scores.
Only when the other was dead, erased from this world could he finally be at peace.
One man. One beast.
Like ancient titans, every movement they made carried unimaginable force. The air roared with each step, shockwaves rolling outward, tearing the ground apart. The sheer force of their collision would shake the land for miles.
The world itself seemed to pale in their presence.
Nearly two kilometers apart.
Jor-El suddenly reared up, his canine body stretching to nearly two meters tall.
His snow-white fur remained unchanged, but it no longer concealed the raw power beneath.
His head was still that of a beast, but his fangs had lengthened, each one as thick as an adult's index finger. His five fingers clenched into a powerful fist.
Blue veins bulged across his face, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl. His pupils burned with savage ferocity.
His front paws had become hands—thick, clawed, monstrous. His arms swelled with muscle, his chest broad and solid. Veins coursed like dragons beneath his skin, barely hidden by the sparse white fur covering his werewolf-like form.
The moment he stood upright, he fully transformed.
His legs remained digitigrade, still bent like a dog's, but his movement was even faster than before. His power had shifted entirely to his upper body, gathering in his clenched fists.
They were no longer mere figures rushing toward each other.
They had become streaks of burning fire, moving at supersonic speeds, wreathed in red-hot temperatures. The friction alone set the air ablaze, forming twin semicircular energy shields around them.
With only a thousand meters remaining.
Jor-El leapt.
His fist punched through the red-hot energy barrier, accelerating into a final burst of speed.
Bardi's eyes gleamed with ruthless intensity, his lips curling into a sinister grin.
The flames surrounding him, the wild dance of his black hair—all made him look like a demon emerging from the depths of hell.
Likewise, his fist shattered the burning air barrier.
In an instant, as if breaking through the walls of reality itself.
Their fists collided.
(To be continued.)
***
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