DC universe (Earth-2609th)
1995, Smallville, Kansas
One day, Clark was browsing the DC Database, a treasure trove of knowledge provided by the SS system, when he stumbled upon something that caught him off guard. The entry was about the Wizards of Juru, a group of ancient Kryptonian mystics who had wielded formidable magical powers. Clark's eyes widened as he read about Thul-Kar, a powerful wizard from the Valley of Juru, who had been capable of incredible feats of magic, unlike anything Clark had associated with his Kryptonian heritage.
This discovery sent a wave of confusion through him. He distinctly remembered a conversation with the SS system a few years ago, where it had told him that Kryptonians couldn't use magic, that their powers were entirely based on their unique physiology under a yellow sun. But here, in this database, was evidence of Kryptonians who had defied that very logic.
Perplexed, Clark decided to confront the SS system to clear up his doubts.
"SS, we need to talk," Clark thought, his mind racing with questions.
[Yes, Clark? What's on your mind?] the system responded with its usual calm efficiency.
"I just found something in the DC Database that doesn't make sense," Clark began, trying to organize his thoughts. "A few years ago, you told me that Kryptonians can't use magic. But I just read about the Wizards of Juru—Kryptonians who were powerful magicians. How is that possible?"
The SS system paused, as if considering how to answer. Then, it began its explanation.
[The information you found is accurate. The Wizards of Juru, particularly those like Thul-Kar, did indeed possess the ability to wield magic. However, this is an anomaly rather than the norm for Kryptonians. Magic, on Krypton, was practiced by a very small and secluded group within the Valley of Juru. Their powers were derived from ancient rituals and the unique energies of that region, rather than from the Kryptonian physiology that you possess.]
Clark frowned, still not entirely satisfied. "But if Kryptonians can use magic, even in limited cases, why did you tell me otherwise?"
[The system's previous assessment was based on the general Kryptonian biology, which does not naturally support the use of magic. The vast majority of Kryptonians, including those who were not born in the Valley of Juru, had no affinity for magic and relied solely on their technological advancements and physical abilities. The Wizards of Juru were an exception, a rare occurrence, and their magic was limited to specific conditions on Krypton. Moreover, these powers did not carry over under a yellow sun, which is why the information was deemed not directly relevant to your current situation.]
Clark nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "So, even though these wizards existed, their abilities wouldn't apply to me because I'm not from that part of Krypton?"
[Correct. Your abilities stem from your exposure to Earth's yellow sun and are physical in nature. The magical practices of the Wizards of Juru were tied to Krypton's environment and cultural heritage, which no longer exist. Additionally, Earth's magic, as you may encounter in the future, operates on entirely different principles.]
Clark sat back, absorbing the information. The idea that Kryptonians could wield magic, even in rare cases, was fascinating, but it was clear that this aspect of his heritage was not something he could tap into.
However, after learning about the Wizards of Juru and their mysterious abilities, Clark couldn't stop thinking about one particular artifact mentioned in the DC Database—the Orb of Juru. The database described it as a powerful relic, said to be imbued with the ancient magical energies of the Valley of Juru. The orb was rumored to amplify the magical abilities of its wielder and was considered one of the most potent magical artifacts in Kryptonian history.
The thought of such a powerful object intrigued Clark. He had always been curious about his Kryptonian heritage, and the idea of an artifact that could potentially connect him to a part of that history was fascinating. But more than that, Clark wondered if obtaining the Orb of Juru could provide him with new insights or abilities, possibly even something that could help him protect Earth more effectively.
But there were also doubts. The SS system had clarified that his abilities were not magical and that the magic of Juru was tied to the specific conditions of Krypton. Even if the Orb of Juru were real, would it work on Earth? And if it did, what would that mean for him? Would he be tapping into powers that were beyond his control or understanding?
Unable to shake these thoughts, Clark decided to consult the SS system once again.
"SS, I've been thinking about the Orb of Juru," Clark began, his mind racing with possibilities. "If it exists, and if it could amplify the magical energies of Krypton, is there any chance I could obtain it? And if I did, what would happen?"
The SS system responded after a brief pause, clearly analyzing the question.
[The Orb of Juru is indeed a significant artifact in Kryptonian history, believed to have been created by the ancient wizards of the Valley of Juru to harness and amplify magical energies. However, its current existence and location are highly speculative. Records of the orb were lost during the destruction of Krypton, and there is no verified evidence that it survived the planet's demise.]
Clark listened intently, trying to process the implications. "But if it did survive, and if I were to find it, could it work here on Earth?"
[The orb's power was intrinsically tied to the unique magical energies of Krypton, particularly those found in the Valley of Juru. Without those specific environmental conditions, it is uncertain whether the orb would function as intended on Earth. Even if it did, the nature of Earth's magic is different from that of Krypton, and the orb could potentially interact unpredictably with local magical energies.]
Clark's mind was filled with possibilities and concerns. "So, there's a chance that if I found the orb, it might not work at all? Or worse, it could be dangerous?"
[Correct. The orb might be nothing more than a relic on Earth, devoid of its original power. Alternatively, if it did interact with Earth's magic, the effects could be unpredictable and potentially hazardous. Given your current abilities and the fact that your powers are not magical in nature, pursuing the orb could introduce risks that outweigh the potential benefits.]
Clark nodded slowly, understanding the caution in SS's advice. "But what if I found a way to safely study it? Could it offer me any insights into Kryptonian history or magic that I don't already have?"
[If the Orb of Juru were to be found and safely studied, it could indeed offer valuable insights into the mystical aspects of Krypton's history, particularly the magical practices that were rare and largely forgotten by the time of Krypton's destruction. However, any study of the orb would need to be approached with extreme caution, possibly with the assistance of someone knowledgeable in Earth's magical practices to mitigate any risks.]
Clark sighed, the weight of the decision heavy on his mind. The orb represented a connection to a part of his heritage that was mysterious and unknown, but it also posed significant risks. If he pursued it, he would need to be careful, ensuring that he didn't unleash something he couldn't control.
With that, Clark closed the database, the image of the Orb of Juru lingering in his thoughts. It presented an intriguing opportunity, but one filled with unknowns. For now, he chose to concentrate on the tasks within his reach, keeping the orb in mind as a potential path to explore later—when he felt more equipped to face the risks it could involve.
---
Early Morning at the Farm
The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the Kent farm, casting a soft, golden light across the fields. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the old oak tree near the barn, where young Clark Kent stood, looking up at the sky with a determined expression. It was the year 1995, and Clark, now 9 years old, had grown taller and stronger than most kids his age. His once boyish features were starting to take on the beginnings of a more mature look—broad shoulders, a lean but sturdy build, and a pair of bright, curious eyes that seemed to hold more secrets than anyone could guess.
Clark had always been bigger and stronger than the other kids in school, but recently, his growth had accelerated in ways that only he knew about. His strength had increased exponentially, his speed had reached levels that would make any Olympic sprinter green with envy, and just a few weeks ago, he had started hearing things from miles away—his super hearing was finally kicking in. It was a new power that had both excited and terrified him at first, especially when he overheard the cows grumbling about their early morning feedings. Who knew cows had so much to complain about?
But there was one ability that had eluded him so far—flight. He could leap tall buildings (well, the barn at least) in a single bound, but staying airborne was another matter entirely. No matter how hard he tried, gravity always seemed to win. And that was something he planned to change today.
"Okay, Clark," he muttered to himself, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. His parents, Martha and Jonathan, were still inside, probably enjoying their morning coffee and completely oblivious to the fact that their son was about to attempt to defy the laws of physics. "It's just like hopping, but, you know… with more style."
Clark took a deep breath and crouched down, his muscles tensing as he prepared to launch himself into the air. He had been practicing in secret for weeks, experimenting with different techniques—arms out, arms in, legs bent, legs straight. None of it had worked so far, but he wasn't about to give up. He was Superman, or at least, he would be someday. Superman could fly, and so could he.
"Here goes nothing," he whispered, and with a powerful push, he rocketed off the ground, soaring up into the air like a human cannonball.
For a glorious few seconds, he was weightless, the wind rushing past him as the ground fell away below. But then, as always, gravity decided it had had enough of his antics and yanked him back down. With a not-so-graceful thud, Clark landed in a heap on the grass, leaving a small Clark-shaped dent in the ground.
"Ugh," he groaned, sitting up and brushing the dirt off his clothes. "Well, that could have gone better. Maybe I need to start smaller. Like… hover for five seconds first, then worry about the whole flying part later."
He sighed and got to his feet, ready to try again. He wasn't sure how many attempts it would take before he got it right, but he was nothing if not stubborn. If there was one thing his parents had taught him, it was that Kent men didn't quit. Even if Kent men sometimes fell flat on their faces while trying to fly.
Clark glanced around one more time, making sure no one was watching. He didn't want to have to explain why the farm's best patches of grass were suddenly covered in Clark-sized craters. "Alright, Kent," he said to himself, a grin spreading across his face. "Let's give it another go."
With that, he crouched down again, channeling all his energy into making that one perfect jump. Maybe this time, just maybe, he'd stay airborne long enough to call it flying. And if not, well, the cows would have something else to grumble about.
---
Clark stood on the highest point of the Kent farm, a small hill that offered a clear view of the endless blue sky above. The wind tugged at his hair, and the sun warmed his back as he stared up at the sky, feeling a mixture of anticipation and frustration. He had been at this for hours now, trying and failing to stay airborne, and his patience was starting to wear thin.
He knew he was close—so close he could almost taste it. But every time he pushed off the ground, gravity pulled him right back down. It was maddening, knowing that he had the strength to leap great distances, but not the control to stay in the air.
"SS, what am I doing wrong?" Clark asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "I can jump higher than anyone, but I just can't stay up there."
[Clark, your approach is solid, but there's more to flying than just strength and speed,] the SS system replied, its tone calm and analytical. [Flight requires a combination of balance, focus, and an understanding of your own gravitational field. You need to think of it not as defying gravity, but as bending it to your will. Imagine the air around you as something you can push against, something you can manipulate to your advantage.]
Clark nodded, absorbing the advice. It made sense in a way—he couldn't just brute force his way into the sky. He needed to be smarter about it, more in tune with the forces at play. But even with this knowledge, the question remained: how?
He inhaled slowly, calming himself. With his eyes closed, he tuned into the air around him, noticing how it flowed and changed with each breath, each gust of wind. The SS system's words echoed in his thoughts: 'Bend gravity to your will.' But how?
As he stood there, deep in thought, a memory surfaced—one of the few clear memories he had of his life before Earth. It was a feeling, more than a memory, really. The sensation of weightlessness, of floating in the nothingness of space as his spaceship had carried him to Earth. Back then, gravity had been meaningless, a distant force that had no hold on him.
The realization struck him suddenly. He had been struggling too much against gravity when what he truly needed was to recall the feeling of being free from it, to release his hold on the ground and welcome the natural lightness that was already within him.
"Clark, don't think of it as flying," he told himself, a newfound determination in his voice. "Think of it as falling… but never hitting the ground."
He took a step back, shaking out his limbs as he prepared for another attempt. But this time, he wasn't going to just jump. He was going to rise.
Clark crouched down, energy gathering in his legs. Rather than concentrating on the leap itself, he embraced the lightness, the release. He imagined himself as the child in the spaceship, drifting freely among the stars. Then, with a breath, he launched off the ground.
The earth fell away beneath him, and for a brief, glorious moment, he felt that familiar pull of gravity. But this time, he didn't fight it—he embraced it. He let it pull him, but only so far, and then he pushed back, feeling the air beneath him as something solid, something he could push against.
To his amazement, he didn't fall back down. Instead, he hovered, suspended in the air like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. Clark's heart raced with excitement as he realized what he had done. He was airborne—truly airborne—for the first time.
[You've done it, Clark,] the SS system said, its voice filled with pride. [You're flying. Now, focus on maintaining your balance and control. Remember, the air is your ally. Use it to steer, to guide your movements.]
Clark could hardly believe it. He was flying! A grin spread across his face as he started to experiment, leaning slightly forward to move ahead, then back to slow down. He lifted his arms, feeling how the air responded to even the smallest movement, guiding him, lifting him higher.
It was exhilarating, the purest form of freedom he had ever known. The farm below him became a blur as he soared higher into the sky, his laughter ringing out like the chiming of bells. He wasn't just flying—he was soaring, cutting through the air like a bird, with the wind rushing past him and the sun warming his face.
Just as he was getting comfortable with the sensation, a sudden gust of wind took him by surprise. Clark wobbled mid-air, his balance faltering, and for a frightening moment, he felt himself falling toward the ground. But then, recalling SS's advice—the air is your ally—he adjusted his posture, angled his body carefully, and felt the wind support him, lifting him back up.
"I'm doing it," Clark shouted in excitement. "I'm really doing it!"
[Yes, Clark, you are,] SS replied, with a hint of pride in its tone.
[Now, let's see if you can take it further. Try to increase your speed and climb higher. Push the limits, but stay in control.]
Clark nodded, his eyes sparkling with determination. He angled his body upward, pushing harder against the air, feeling himself climb higher and faster. The ground below became a distant memory as he soared through the clouds, the world stretching out beneath him like a vast, endless tapestry.
It was a moment of pure triumph. For the first time in his young life, Clark Kent felt like he was truly becoming Superman.
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