Clark was gradually sinking, his lungs growing emptier by the second as the cold gnawed at his body.
Suddenly, a burning, acidic rush—like stomach acid—flooded his chest and surged into his mouth. He could taste bile and mud. Then came a sensation like sugar dissolving in hot coffee—his consciousness blurring into nothingness.
Just as Clark thought he was about to be swallowed by the river, a blinding white light burst before his eyes.
With the light came a pair of warm hands.
"Splash!"
Those hands grabbed him and pulled him upward.
Clark stared in disbelief at the hands until he saw who they belonged to—his godfather.
Peter pulled both Clark and Eric from the river and laid them on the bank.
Lying on the ground, gasping for breath, Clark looked up at the dark clouds overhead.
The towering trees that once lined the river were gone. In their place was a rugged, grassy bank.
Above it, the Susquehanna River alternated between rolling and calm, with the Ovaltine waters gurgling steadily forward.
Everything felt different—Clark could sense the joy of life itself.
"You were reckless, Clark. You're not Superman anymore. Why did you still try to save someone?"
Peter looked down at the panting Clark, frowning as he asked the question.
"Godfather, I... I just think that if I'm pursuing the truth, then even without power, it shouldn't matter."
Clark looked at Peter with gratitude. "Thank you, Godfather. Thank you for saving me."
He'd lost count of how many times Peter had saved him now.
"Boom!"
Just as Clark finished speaking, John dropped down from the sky.
He took one look at the battered Clark and Eric, then at Peter's serious expression, and immediately stepped off to the side, guilty and silent.
Maybe I went a little overboard...?
Seeing John's sheepish expression, Peter ignored him.
The kid probably jumped in because he saw Star-Lord being bullied and decided to teach Eric a lesson.
It was understandable—wanting to protect his little brother—but his strikes lacked restraint.
If he'd actually killed Eric, Clark's powers might never have returned.
"Cough...!"
Eric, lying on the ground, coughed up water and let out a pained groan.
Rolling over, he looked weakly at Clark.
"I... I'm sorry, Clark."
His voice was frail, his face full of remorse.
As he had sunk to the bottom of the river, his strength fading, he had seen Clark diving in after him without hesitation.
"I'm sorry, Clark. I... I lost myself. I'll give your powers back."
Breathing heavily after just that short speech, Eric collapsed again.
Now that he realized how foolish he'd been, his desire for power had completely vanished. All he wanted now was to return Clark's abilities and get as far away from that monster John as possible.
Clark sat up, wrapping himself in the coat Peter had given him, and said dejectedly, "No... we can't do it now. We need lightning."
"That's not an impossible problem," Peter said calmly.
"Clark, hold the Kryptonite and grab Eric's hand."
As he spoke, Peter tossed a piece of Kryptonite toward Clark.
He had a stash of them prepared. After hearing the explosion from earlier, he'd come rushing over with one.
When Clark saw the green rock flying at him, he instinctively flinched—
—but then he remembered he was just a regular human now. Carefully, he caught the Kryptonite.
He grabbed Eric's hand and looked at Peter, waiting to see what his godfather would do.
Just like John before, Peter launched a lightning strike out of nowhere, as if it were the first frame of an animation—no warning, just zap!
Startled, Clark tried to back away, but as a powerless human, he was no match for lightning speed.
He got struck directly.
"Aahhh!"
Clark let out a scream as pain shot through his entire body.
At the same time, the green Kryptonite in his hand glowed with blinding white light.
Lightning danced around both of them, crackling loudly in the air.
The two of them, visibly electrocuted, convulsed and fell to the ground, occasionally twitching.
When the lightning faded, Peter walked over and helped Clark up.
"How do you feel, Clark? Are you back to normal?"
Clark shook his head to clear the fuzziness and reached out his hand. Feeling the strength return to his body, he nodded.
"Yes, Godfather. We've switched back."
Hearing Clark say his powers were restored, John breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank goodness—he hadn't killed Eric after all.
Half an hour later.
The ambulance and police finally arrived. The unconscious Eric was loaded into the back of an ambulance.
"Godfather, what will happen to Eric?"
"I don't know," Peter replied. "But don't worry about him. They had problems long before they ever got superpowers."
He looked at the ambulance as he spoke.
"Sometimes extraordinary power really does lead us astray. But Godfather, I'll never become like him."
Peter raised an eyebrow and asked, "Why not?"
"Because Eric didn't have the two best gifts I ever received—you and my parents."
Peter patted Clark on the shoulder, saying nothing.
He turned to John nearby and called out, "Let's go, John."
Hearing Peter call for him, John quickly ran over.
"Okay, Dad."
"Cough cough..."
While Clark was speaking with his parents, Azor leaned over to Peter and whispered, "Dad, I'm just like Clark."
"Just like him how?"
"You're the best gift I've ever received, too."
Azor's words caught Peter completely off guard.
Does this kid not know the first compliment always lands best? Everything after that just gets weaker and weaker...
"Ahem. John, next time, if you tell me your plan in advance, I think I'd be much happier."
"Sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have acted so impulsively."
Azor apologized earnestly.
"You came because Star-Lord got hurt, right?"
"No, Dad, I just—"
Azor paused, trying to come up with a decent excuse, but couldn't find one.
"Well, regardless, John, your intentions were good. This time, you can honestly be called a real hero."
Peter gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Alright, let's get going."
Azor nodded, feeling better without even realizing it.
The next morning.
Just after finishing breakfast, Peter received a call from Officer Ryan.
"Good morning, Peter."
"Good morning, Officer Ryan."
Peter greeted him and asked, "I'm guessing you've got some news for me, don't you?"
"I do. That FBI team that was investigating in Smallville has left. Their leader broke a few ribs—he'll be stuck in the hospital for a couple days."
Ryan sounded almost gleeful as he added, "I did warn them to be careful. There's no shortage of strange things in this little town."
Peter nodded, then asked, "Did Eric wake up?"
"He did, but he told the cops and agents he doesn't remember anything that happened before. Also, his powers as 'Superboy' are gone. He's just a regular person again. Sounds like a happy ending for everyone, right?"
Peter's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Although... I heard he smashed up all the police cars at your station."
"Cough cough..."
Ryan coughed awkwardly. "Minor issue. That's the chief's headache now."
After a bit of small talk, Peter turned his attention to Loki, who was sitting quietly on the couch nearby.
The kid had been uncharacteristically well-behaved lately.
He used to stir up trouble every now and then—had he suddenly changed his ways?
"Loki, what have you been up to lately?" Peter asked.
"Not much. I've just been studying some magic."
Loki claimed he was being studious.
Studying...?Peter eyed him suspiciously.
This little brat isn't secretly preparing some big move, is he?
Late at night.
After falling asleep, Loki quickly entered the realm of dreams.
In the midst of a swirling fog, he found himself standing before the World Tree in a vast courtyard.
The World Tree radiated a soft white glow, as if it were waiting for him to arrive.
Curious, Loki stepped forward and placed his hand on the tree.
He knew the World Tree shared a deep connection with him. He didn't expect to feel its call even within the dream world.
The moment he touched it, he was pulled into a sealed space.
Thousands of threads dangled within, gently swaying as if in a breeze, guiding him toward countless possible futures.
"Welcome, child of Peter Podrick," an ancient voice echoed in his ears.
Loki froze when he heard the name "the Norns."
The World Tree birthed the Three Fates...?
Loki knew that a fully grown World Tree was said to house the Norns—the goddesses of fate.
They were Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld, representing the past, present, and future respectively.
The Three Fates, also known as the Norns, did not just control the fate of mortals—they could foretell the destinies of gods as well. They embodied the supreme force of fate in Norse mythology.
Their role stood above all others. Not even gods or demons could control them, symbolizing a worldview where fate ruled over everything—even divine beings were no exception.
They lived at the roots of the World Tree—Yggdrasil—beside the Well of Fate, where they wove the destinies of both gods and mortals: life, death, and fortune.
The eldest, Urd, governed the past—her name literally meant "what once was," and she was also known as the goddess of death.
The middle sister, Verdandi, ruled the present, representing reality and existence.
The youngest, Skuld, oversaw the future, symbolizing the unknown and all possibilities yet to come.
"Y-You're the Three Fates?" Loki stammered in disbelief.
"You see us now," said the ancient voice. "We are here, bound to destiny."
"Heehee!"
A girl, youthful and elegant with an aura of mystery, giggled as she darted past Loki, vanishing into the threads of fate.