"Whitney?!"
Lana looked at her boyfriend, not understanding why he would call out to Eric.
Whitney patted Lana's arm, signaling that it was fine.
The students in the hallway who were watching the commotion turned their eyes toward Whitney.
This handsome blond man was Lana's boyfriend and the captain of the football team.
Whitney walked up to Eric, staring at him with a hostile look.
Despite Eric being taller and more imposing, Whitney didn't back down.
"Looks like an exciting conflict is brewing. I'm betting Whitney backs off in the end," Chloe said, pulling out five dollars and handing it to Pete.
"Alright, even though I think the same, I feel the outcome might be different. After all, Eric is a Kent, and maybe he'll mess up at the last moment like Clark," Pete replied, his confidence in Eric shaken due to past experiences with Clark.
"Watch out, Kent kid! You don't know who you're messing with," Whitney threatened rudely.
"Oh, really?" Eric's eyes narrowed, a flash of red passing through them as a palpable killing intent emanated from him.
"Is a severe concussion patient like you talking to me?" Eric's menacing aura made Whitney stiffen instantly.
It felt as though he was suddenly plunged into a freezing cold pit, struggling to even breathe.
The onlookers, including Pete and Chloe, couldn't understand why Whitney was frozen in place.
"Whitney," Lana called softly, concerned about her boyfriend who was trembling slightly.
As she was about to step forward, she blinked and saw Clark standing behind her boyfriend.
"Eric," Clark said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder and looking at him with pleading eyes. "Don't do this... Eric, we're at school."
Seeing Clark's humility in front of the girl he liked, Eric frowned but retracted his killing intent directed at Whitney.
Though he had only been in this world for sixteen years, Eric frequently conducted combat training in Metropolis.
Many criminals, drug dealers, and gangsters had fallen victim to his training.
Having seen much blood and death, his casual release of killing intent was enough to freeze any ordinary person in fear.
"Clark, do you think all of this is worth it?" Eric asked as he was about to leave.
"What?" Clark blinked, puzzled.
"Whatever. Just don't play the good guy in front of me next time. My patience is limited," Eric said before walking away.
Clark was left standing there, bewildered, while Whitney gritted his teeth.
The students in the hallway, seeing that the show was over, started to disperse.
"Clark, you were really cool today!" Chloe exclaimed as Clark approached them, though her tone and expression showed she was far from genuinely complimenting him.
"It seems Chloe is upset with you for helping Whitney," Pete shrugged.
"The football team tried to attack me. Can't I express my discontent?" Chloe retorted. "As the captain, Whitney should take responsibility. If you hadn't shown up, Clark, your brother would have beaten him to a pulp."
"Sorry, Chloe," Clark apologized.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Fine, I accept your apology. But next time, try to stay clear-headed when facing Lana."
"Hey, Chloe, why does it seem like the football team has it out for you?" Pete asked, changing the topic to ease Clark's discomfort.
"Maybe it's because I wrote an article titled 'Football: Sport or Abuse'?" Chloe replied, snatching her book from Pete and sulking.
Listening to his two friends chat, Clark's gaze shifted to Lana, who was leaving with her boyfriend.
Their eyes met, and Lana gave Clark a grateful look.
Whitney, however, glared at Clark with hatred.
After school, Eric walked home, carrying his backpack.
The school bus was out for repairs after yesterday's incident, so walking was his only option.
For him, walking was faster than taking the bus anyway.
At Kent Farm.
"Eric, Clark didn't come back with you?" Martha asked from the kitchen as she prepared dinner.
"No," Eric responded, flipping through the "Torch," the school's newspaper.
"The Torch" was Smallville High's student paper. Though its print quality was average, its content was exceptionally high for a school publication.
"I wonder where Clark went. If he's visiting a friend, he usually calls," Martha said, stepping out of the kitchen and looking at the clock on the wall with concern.
The clock's hands pointed to seven.
Usually, by this time, Clark would be sitting at the dinner table with the family.
"I'll call his friends. Eric, could you check around the farm? He might be nearby," Jonathan said as he got up to make the call, instructing Eric to look for Clark.
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