[SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE. Welcome, Last Son of Krypton.]
[Synchronizing host physiology… 12%... 41%… 67%… 100%.]
[Superpower Adaptation Protocols: ONLINE.]
A body drifted through the silent void.
There was no memory of how he'd gotten there. No pain. Just a hum in his chest, like something old and angry coming awake. Pale starlight reflected off muscle and skin. His limbs floated weightless, peaceful—until something shifted.
Beneath closed eyelids, a twitch. A spark of golden light rippled through the veins of his arms like something awakening from a deep, eternal slumber. Then—
[Solar Radiation Source Detected: Yellow Sun.]
[Initiating planetary descent.]
His body angled toward Earth on instinct. His eyes snapped open just long enough to see the blue-and-green orb rushing toward him.
Then the atmosphere screamed.
He slammed into the Earth as a meteor of light and flame, ripping through cloud cover like a divine blade. Trees bent. Animals scattered. The sky over Forks, Washington lit up like a false dawn.
A crater smoked where he landed. Pine trees around the impact were scorched black.
And at its center, he stirred.
[STABILIZATION COMPLETE.]
[Auto-Healing Engaged.]
[Host Conscious: Online.]
He groaned, body aching like he'd been punched through a star. Breath trembled in his lungs.
"...Where...?"
He blinked up at the darkened sky. Smoke curled into the air above him, stars hidden by the fire-smeared clouds.
There was a weight in his skull—like someone whispering directly into his bones.
He sat up slowly, breath caught in his throat.
"But… I died..." he murmured, voice hoarse. "I was dead. I know I was."
His hand ran over the hard-packed dirt. Real. Tangible.
"Wait. Krypton? Last Son?"
His heart jumped. The hum in his chest was stronger now—like the sun itself was burning under his skin.
"No way. There's no way."
His jaw clenched. He didn't need to be told what this is. He's a nerd. Was, anyway—dead in his old world, last he remembered. Now he was in some kind of Isekai... but with Superman's powers?
He wiped his face and stared upward, breathing in the rain.
"Okay. So I'm… not on Earth. Not mine, anyway. This is insane."
[CORE TRAITS UNLOCKED]
[POWER UNLOCKED: Super Strength - Tier I]
The might of a hundred men slumbers in your muscles. You are built for impossible burdens—wrought from alien DNA. Scaling with solar charge.
[+15XP]
[POWER UNLOCKED: Super Endurance - Tier I]
Your body shrugs off strain, fatigue, and injury. Bullets are whispers. Fire is warmth. Your bones remember Krypton's gravity and reject weakness.
[+15XP]
[POWER UNLOCKED: Scion of the Sun]
You live and breathe the energy of the yellow sun. Every second, it fuels your cells, making you stronger, faster, smarter. The longer you bask beneath it, the greater you become.
[+15XP]
[System AI: ACTIVE.]
[Initiate Identity Protocol. Please select your Earth designation:]
[Please select an alias. This will be used to generate your legal identity, school records, financial history, and minor official documentation within this world.]
[Your real name is permanently locked and encrypted in core memory.]
He hesitated, thinking.
'Clark Kent' was out of the question. Too obvious. But something about the name Kal lingered in his mind—clean, strong, alien but not inhuman. And Kent? It felt right.
"Kal Kent," he said.
[Alias confirmed: Kal Kent.]
[Forging legal identity… orphan status created… falsifying academic records…]
[Legal status generated: Orphan. Age: 16. Emancipation status granted. Origin: Out-of-State Transfer (Home-schooled). All documentation filed.]
[Bank account created. Basic housing contract signed. Welcome to Forks, Washington.]
'Huh. Neat.', Kal Kent thought to himself.
Then, before he could think any further—
[QUEST ASSIGNED: "Last Son of Krypton"
Objective: Awaken your dormant Kryptonian abilities. Exposure to sunlight will trigger power unlocks. Moments of emotional intensity, and survival-based stress may cause faster awakening.
[Scion of the Sun] (Complete)
[Super Strength] (Complete)
[Super Endurance] (Complete)
[Enhanced Senses]
[X-Ray Vision]
[Heat Vision]
[Flight]
[Super Speed]
Current Progress: 3/8
Reward: +15XP per ability unlocked. +100XP completion bonus]
He rose slowly to his feet, clenching his fists as he looked down at his hands. They didn't look different. But he could feel it. Power, slowly blooming in his core.
It was dizzying, like it was crawling beneath his skin, threatening to break free. Every breath seemed to fill him with more energy, more intensity, and it was all he could do to keep from shattering under the weight of it. His hands clenched, but he didn't feel stronger. He felt like something was building up inside him, something dangerous, something that was screaming to be let out.
"What am I supposed to do with all of this?" he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. His stomach churned as if his very cells were rejecting what he had become. He wasn't just Kal Kent—he was something more, something far beyond human, and that terrified him.
Why had he been reborn? HOW had he been reborn? Did it truly matter? He was alive, one way or another, who cared how it came about? He was reborn, and not only reborn, but had been granted immense power.
'But… what should I do with it?'
The endless possibilities churned in his mind. His mind raced, as it always did when faced with a choice. He thought of Superman, the man he had admired from the comics, a man who had chosen to stand against tyranny, to never use his power for himself. But Superman's world wasn't his world. Kal's world didn't have the same rules. He didn't have to follow Superman's path.
What was stopping him? With this kind of power, he could do anything. Anything. And wasn't that what people would want? Wasn't that what he could offer?
The temptation gnawed at him. He could rule. He could take control, bend the world to his will and force people to obey, to make things right—by any means necessary.
But was that truly what he wanted? Was that the right, good thing to do? He could rule, he might even do a lot of good—but the real Superman, he hadn't chosen to do that. He had chosen not to rule, he gave up unlimited and unconditional power and instead chose another path.
'You know, I keep calling him 'the real Superman', but right now I'm the real one. I'm the one that exists and has the power. For all intents and purposes, I am the real Superman.'
Kal's jaw clenched. What was stopping him from being something more? Something more than just a symbol? He was alive, more powerful than anyone else on Earth, and maybe that meant he was meant to do something more. Maybe he could force people to be good, make them do the right thing. The world could be a better place if everyone just followed his lead.
He could do that. And wasn't that what the world needed? But then the whisper turned into a scream. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. No. I'm not like that.
But was he?
"No." he whispered to himself, "Superman is not Superman because of his powers, anyone could have his powers. Anyone else could have MY powers, I still don't know how or why I transmigrated."
His head tilted back, his eyes looking skyward. Raindrops continued to fall from the sky, it was starting to get heavier.
"Superman is a symbol of hope."
Kal took a deep breath, his chest expanding with the weight of his thoughts. He looked down at his hands again, feeling the raw power that surged through his veins, like a fire threatening to escape. But as the rush of energy swirled inside him, something else settled—a quiet understanding. He wasn't just a force of nature; he was something more. The world wasn't asking for a god to rule over it, to bend it to his will. It didn't need another tyrant, even one who could do good. What it needed was someone who would stand between the innocent and the darkness, someone who would choose to protect, not dominate. He wasn't here to control; he was here to serve. With that realization, the hum of power in his chest softened, replaced by a steady pulse of purpose. He wasn't going to be another villain in a mask of heroism. He would be better than that. The weight of Superman's legacy, his sacrifices, all those moments where he chose hope over force—they weren't just ideals to admire; they were the standard he would live by. Kal Kent wasn't here to conquer. He was here to make a difference. And that was enough.
'I'll do you proud, Clark.'
A sharp breeze rolled through the trees, seeming to fill him with a sense of righteousness. A sense of responsibility.
'I guess Uncle Ben wasn't wrong.' he smirked to himself, 'With great power, does come great responsibility.'
[PASSIVE QUEST ASSIGNED: "Hero's Path"
Objective: Save lives. Defend the innocent. Every act of selflessness rewards experience.
Reward: XP scales based on effort, danger, and impact.]
Despite what he had decided, the thought lingered, a nagging whisper in the back of his mind.
[QUEST ASSIGNED: "Leave No Trace"
Objective: Conceal evidence of planetary descent before outside forces arrive.
Reward: +50XP
Optional Objective: Mislead investigators.
Reward: Unlock basic stealth protocols.]
Kal stood at the edge of the smoking crater, rain falling even heavier now. Each drop hissed against scorched earth, dampening the blackened bark of trees and the curled tips of ferns that had once lined the forest floor.
The storm was a gift — nature itself lending a hand to erase the traces of his arrival. But it wouldn't be enough on its own.
Smoke drifted lazily upward. The crater's edges were ragged and sharp, cut deep into the soft earth. The crash site stretched a dozen meters across, a shallow basin of churned mud and shattered stone.
His outline was still visible—an unmistakable imprint in the center, arms flung wide, limbs scorched into the dirt like a crime scene chalk drawing. Around it, he saw several sets of footprints: some shallow, some deep, where he'd staggered to his feet. Too many. Too precise.
And worst of all—heat. He could feel it, not with any enhanced senses, but the simple, prickling awareness of his skin against the humid air. The rain was doing its work, but there was still an unnatural warmth to the place.
'This is going to get found. Someone will come looking.'
[Quest Reminder: "Leave No Trace" – Conceal evidence of planetary descent before outside forces arrive.]
[Optional Objective: Mislead investigators. Reward: Unlock basic stealth protocols.]
He clenched his jaw, scanning the damage with a slow, methodical eye.
"Alright," he muttered. "Think."
The storm would help. The rain had already softened the crater's edges and soaked the undergrowth, turning ash into sludge. That was something.
First, the outline.
He stepped into the imprint of his own body, stomping down with his bare feet and dragging mud over the details. Handfuls of damp earth were pulled from the crater's rim and smeared over the impression. A branch was snapped off a fallen pine, and he used it like a rake, sweeping and disturbing the natural pattern of the impact zone.
Footprints came next. He followed them backward, brushing away some with soaked leaves, filling others with wet soil. The rain would blur the rest by morning.
He dragged a branch behind him in long arcs as he circled the crater, dragging it through the mud to blur any boot prints. Where they were too deep, he kicked water over them or stomped them out.
Every few minutes, steam hissed up from a still-glowing patch of ground. Kal didn't know what kind of energy signature he might've left behind — if Kryptonian biology radiated something weird or traceable. But the smell of scorched ozone still lingered.
He grabbed a thick clump of moss and rubbed it across the scorched rocks, trying to mask the scent. He scraped burnt bark off the trees to make the area look older, more natural. Then he grabbed chunks of already-fallen branches and slammed them into the impact site, snapping them in half and scattering them around — as if they'd been caught in the shockwave.
He stepped back.
Now, it looked less like a man had fallen from space at Mach fuck, and more like a rock the size of a microwave had hit at terminal velocity.
He glanced up. The broken treetops were a bigger issue—several had snapped from the sheer force of his descent. He couldn't undo that. But if someone thought it was a meteor strike…
He pulled scorched rocks from the crater's edge, arranging them in a loose pattern at the impact site's center. With enough soot and pressure marks, it would look like something large and fast had struck—not someone.
"Meteorite," he said aloud. "That's the story."
He broke several more branches from already damaged trees and scattered them around the perimeter, making it look like blast debris. Some he drove point-first into the mud at odd angles, like they'd been thrown outward from the strike.
He stepped back, breathing heavily—not from effort, but focus. The air reeked of ozone and charred wood, but the rain was starting to kill the scent. Steam hissed from the last smoldering patch near the crater's edge.
His gaze swept the scene one final time. It wasn't perfect. Nothing ever would be. But it didn't look like a man had fallen from space anymore.
It looked like a rock.
Something that could be forgotten.
[QUEST COMPLETED: "Leave No Trace"
Objective: Conceal evidence of planetary descent before outside forces arrive. (Complete)]
[+50XP]
[Optional Objective Complete: Mislead Investigators.]
[Basic Stealth Protocols Unlocked.]
A subconscious system guide, providing stealth tactics, environmental concealment tips, and suggesting the optimal way to erase your footprint. Can alert user to their own biological trace.
Kal turned away from the site, rain soaking his hair as he walked deeper into the forest. Each step squelched in the mud, but he didn't look back.
It was done.
——————————————————————————————————
Kal kept moving through the thick forest, each step deliberate and measured. The damp earth squelched underfoot, but his mind was far from the mud. His thoughts spun around cryptic messages, strange interfaces, and powers he hadn't known were real.
He moved between the trees, branches brushing against the strange fabric that clung to his skin. It wasn't anything he recognized—smooth, matte-black, seamless from neck to toe like it had been grown around him. Durable, too. It didn't tear or snag, even when bark scraped against it. Not to mention his fiery arrival—almost dragon warrior-esque. It was definitely not cotton. Not anything human.
'Kryptonian suit, maybe,' he thought, running a hand down the material. It was like a second skin—alien, but not uncomfortable. Just one more reminder that he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or anywhere close.
'Where even am I?' he thought to himself.
Then the system chimed in again, that same sterile, voice-in-the-head tone.
[Directions Uploading]
[Path to nearest populated area detected: Forks, Washington]
[Travel time: Approximately 2 hours on foot]
Kal exhaled through his nose. "Forks," he muttered, adjusting his hoodie. He'd never heard of it. "All right… I guess that's as good a direction as any."
He trudged on, eyes scanning ahead, but curiosity started to pull at him again.
"System," he said aloud, "what's XP even for? I've seen the numbers go up… but what does it do?"
[XP Query Detected]
[Initiating Tutorial Mode]
A translucent screen flickered into view in front of him, floating in midair as though tethered to nothing. His instincts flared—part wonder, part suspicion—but he kept watching.
[Tutorial Mode Activated]
[Welcome to System Overview]
[Subject: Kal Kent]
[Overview of Core Systems Now Displaying]
[Character Sheet] [Alignment] [Quests]
[Character Sheet]Name: Kal Kent
Alias(es): Kal Kent
Age: 17
Origin: Out-of-State Transfer
Archetype:Young Superman
Level: 1
XP: 95/100
Status: Healthy
[Leveling Explanation]
[XP is accumulated through actions, achievements, and quest completion. Each level grants increases in baseline abilities, unlocks new skills or traits, and contributes to system integration. Reaching Level 10 triggers your next archetype draw.]
Kal absorbed that quickly, nodding to himself.
Then the system transitioned smoothly into the next category:
[Archetype Explanation]
[Archetypes are foundational identity templates that determine your initial abilities, stat growth, and potential questlines. Your current archetype, Young Superman, reflects a latent Kryptonian physiology paired with Earth-based development. Archetypes influence your growth path and the nature of abilities unlocked.]
[Every 10 levels, you may draw a new archetype. Archetypes may unlock new powers, capabilities, or entirely new pathways of development.]
Kal squinted at that last part. Draw a new archetype? Sounded like cards, or classes. Like a game.
[Character Sheet Updated]
Kal's attention shifted to a new section:
[Abilities]
Unlocked Abilities:
Super Strength - Tier I
Super Endurance - Tier I
Scion of the Sun
[Skills
[Basic Stealth Protocols]
A subconscious system guide, providing stealth tactics, environmental concealment tips, and suggesting the optimal way to erase your footprint. Can alert user to their own biological trace.]
Kal raised an eyebrow. He hadn't even realized he was being stealthy—but thinking back, he had moved without making a sound through much of the forest. Natural, but also… not natural.
[Alignment]
Overall Alignment: Neutral
Purity/Corruption: +5
Order/Chaos: +5
[Alignment System Explanation]
[Your alignment tracks your moral and behavioral decisions. There are two axes: Purity vs. Corruption, and Order vs. Chaos. Each is scored from -100 to 100.
Purity/Corruption > 0: Tendency toward justice, selflessness, and compassion.
Purity/Corruption < 0: Tendency toward malevolence, selfishness, and cruelty.
Order/Chaos > 0: Tendency toward structure, logic, and control.
Order/Chaos < 0: Tendency toward unpredictability, rebellion, and instinct.]
[Your decision to uphold justice has slightly altered your score. Your current scores of +5 indicate a slight leaning toward purity and order, but not enough to alter behavior or systems at this time. Alignment shifts will begin to matter significantly at ±25 and beyond.]
Kal tilted his head. Slightly pure. Slightly orderly. Made sense, he supposed. He hadn't done anything too crazy yet. But he was sure that wouldn't last forever.
[Quests]
Quest: "Last Son of Krypton"
Objective: Awaken your dormant Kryptonian abilities. Exposure to sunlight will trigger power unlocks. Moments of emotional intensity, and survival-based stress may cause faster awakening.
[Scion of the Sun] (Complete)
[Super Strength] (Complete)
[Super Endurance] (Complete)
[Enhanced Senses]
[X-Ray Vision]
[Heat Vision]
[Flight]
[Super Speed]
Current Progress: 3/8
Reward: +15XP per ability unlocked. +100XP completion bonus]
[Passive Quest: "Hero's Path"
Objective: Save lives. Defend the innocent. Every act of selflessness rewards experience.
Reward: XP scales based on effort, danger, and impact.]
The display faded slightly, hovering until Kal gave it no further input. He continued along the forest path, head buzzing with questions. His world was starting to make a strange kind of sense—but the terminology still threw him off.
"…Why do you call people NPCs?" he asked aloud. "Is this some kind of game?"
A moment passed. Then:
[System Clarification]
[Terminology and formatting are structured for optimal cognitive compatibility. Your mind interprets information best through gamified frameworks due to high familiarity with interactive media. The terms 'NPC', 'quest', 'XP', and 'level' are not literal. They are mnemonic simplifications drawn from your own psyche to ease understanding.]
[This world is not a simulation. It is real. The system interface is designed to present your progress in a form you can interpret and interact with efficiently.]
Kal blinked. "So… it's using my own brain to talk to me. That's kinda terrifying."
He paused, staring through the trees at the road that should lead to Forks.
"But I guess it's working."
With the trees thinning and a flicker of a dirt path visible ahead, Kal put his head down and kept moving. If he was going to survive—no, thrive—here, he needed to learn fast. And if this system was his guide?
Then he'd better start listening.
——————————————————————————————————
The forest began to thin. Dirt became gravel. Gravel became cracked asphalt.
Kal crested a small hill and found himself staring down a lonely stretch of two-lane road winding into the grey-green heart of nowhere. Mist clung low to the trees, curling around the trunks like lazy smoke. Birds called distantly, but otherwise, the world had gone quiet.
He took a few more steps.
Then he saw it.
A sign, old but sturdy, its white paint peeling slightly around the edges:
"Welcome to Forks, WA. Population: 3,120."
Kal slowed, hands tucked into the shadowy material of his suit. He stared at the number. Small town. Smaller than anywhere he could remember living—if he could remember living anywhere at all.
He let out a dry breath.
"I guess it's 3,121 now."
But even as he said it, something felt off. He glanced down at himself. Barefoot, wrapped in what still looked like a black bodysuit molded from shadows. Definitely not small-town fashion.
"System," he murmured, still not used to saying it aloud, "where do I go?"
A thin line lit up in the corner of his vision — a guiding thread, rendered in pale gold, pointing off the main road, out past the town's edge. His destination blinked softly, pulsing like a beacon in the trees.
He followed it.
It took another hour to reach the property, mostly walking along a narrow trail half-swallowed by moss and fallen leaves. The air grew cooler, heavier. By the time the trees broke into a clearing, Kal's feet were sore, and a damp breeze had settled into his bones.
The house stood like a memory waiting to be remembered.
It was modest. Secluded. A short path led from the gravel road into a clearing, where moss grew thick against wooden walls and the roof sloped low with age and rainfall. It was... cozy. Maybe even nice.
A stone path led to the porch, half-covered in pine needles. There were no neighbors in sight. No lights but his own reflection in the windows.
The door wasn't locked. It didn't need to be.
Inside, it smelled of cedar and new paint. Everything was already waiting: furniture with just the right amount of wear, gently lived-in. A brown leather couch. Bookshelves already filled. A coat hanging by the door. Pictures on the walls — pictures of other people, not him. A life that could have belonged to someone, but didn't. Yet.
'It's like someone prepared this for me.'
The thought hovered as he wandered through the rooms. The kitchen held fresh produce, bread in the pantry, cartons of milk and eggs in the fridge. Upstairs, the bedroom was fully made, sheets crisp and clean. A wardrobe door hung slightly ajar, revealing folded jeans, soft flannels, jackets in deep greens and blues. All his size. There were boots by the bed, like someone expected him.
Kal stood at the foot of the bed, muscles aching. He looked down at himself. His suit was beginning to feel… wrong against his skin. Sticky. Close.
"I need a shower," he muttered, almost surprised by the irritation in his voice.
The suit clung to him like a second skin. He pulled at the edge near his collarbone, but it didn't budge.
"System... how do I remove this?"
There was a strange, cooling sensation along his back — like the first break in a scab. The material unspooled, peeling away in slow, mechanical movements.. The suit flexed, separating at the back like unraveling threads, exposing skin to cool air. Kal reached up instinctively, pulling it off. It came free all at once, his breath catching as the material seemed to fold in on itself, receding into a compact hexagonal band at his wrist.
He stared at it. Then stepped into the shower.
Steam fogged the mirror.
Kal stood in front of it, towel around his waist, wiping a line through the condensation with his palm, revealing a stranger staring back.
He leaned closer.
Strong jaw. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes — too bright to be normal. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, tousled from the towel. He looked like someone straight out of a movie. Young Henry Cavill, maybe.
Superman.
He should've laughed at the irony. But the expression in the mirror didn't laugh back. It didn't smile at all.
The face was... unfamiliar.
Kal blinked. Tried to remember the one that came before.
Nothing.
There wasn't a blank spot. There was just absence, like the page had never been written. Panic rose in his chest, sudden and sharp.
He focused harder. Tried to conjure up the face he'd worn before this one. The face beneath the face.
His mind reeled. Empty.
[NOTICE: Facial identity data has been locked under Core Memory to prevent dissociative conflict during Phase One. Thank you for your understanding.]
Understanding?
He didn't understand anything.
Kal placed both hands on the counter, breathing slowly through his nose. The man in the mirror did the same, but it didn't help. The distance was still there — subtle, terrifying.
He had lost something. He knew he had. But he didn't know what. Or who.
Kal pressed a hand to the mirror. Cold glass met warm skin. A face stared back.
He should have known who he was.
He should have felt something when he looked into his own eyes.
Instead, all he felt was… loss.
Like grief with no body.
Like a word that doesn't exist in any language.
His, supposedly.
"Who am I?" he whispered.
The mirror didn't answer.
But the silence in the house felt like it almost could.