Clark looked down, his expression unreadable.
He continued walking, passing by a homeless man sitting at the corner, bundled up in seven or eight layers of dirty clothes.
The homeless man, cradling his skinny dog, whistled at him, "Hey, are you Superman?"
Clark glanced at him and replied, "Yes, I am."
The man chuckled and winked, "You're really Superman, huh? Then tell me, what's going on? Why's everyone suddenly talking about aliens and some Kal-El? Who are they? It's been a crazy day... Usually, folks throw me some change... but today, everyone just told me to get lost."
He rubbed his hands together and patted his skinny dog.
The dog barked once and jumped out of his arms, circling around Clark's red-booted feet.
"See? I didn't get a single coin today…"
The homeless man's dirty face was streaked with grime, but his eyes, hidden behind thick eyelashes, were surprisingly clear and bright.
He gave Clark a subtle hint.
Clark's red cape trailed on the cobblestone street.
"Sorry… I don't have any cash," Clark said.
The homeless man's face fell with disappointment, "Oh… alright."
He waved his hand dismissively, crossed his arms, and looked up at the sky, "Well, that's how it is… You're Superman, the savior. How could you possibly carry cash?"
Clark remained silent.
He moved away from the street corner, raised his arms, and shot into the sky like a beam of light, heading towards Kansas and the farmland.
The sonic boom echoed through the clouds.
He returned to his home.
Martha and Jonathan were waiting at the farm's entrance.
They seemed to have known Clark was coming back and probably guessed what his decision would be.
Jonathan still looked like Clark remembered him, but the lines from years of frowning had deepened, and his expression lines were etched like grooves in rock.
"Clark," he opened his arms to his son, "Your mom and I have been waiting for you."
Clark landed in front of them.
He seemed a bit weary, "Hi, Dad. Hi, Mom."
Martha stepped forward and embraced him.
The now older mother gently patted her son's back, her wrinkled hand providing a shield from the storm.
She couldn't help but shed tears, "My son… Your father and I have seen it all, and we trust your choice. Child, we know you are not a criminal. You must go and expose his lies."
Clark pressed his face against his mother's neck.
He closed his eyes in her embrace and murmured, "He might be the last of my people."
...But what does it mean to be of the same people?
Is it enough to share similar blood or weaknesses?
Is being from the same planet enough to be considered the same people?
Is speaking the same language or facing the same fate enough to make you the same?
Yet they have completely different souls.
His soul belongs to humanity...
He deeply loves the people of Earth.
He cherishes being one of them.
He admires human courage, he respects human will, and he yearns for human love.
...He is Kal-El.
But he is also Clark Kent.
Martha's hand moved through his hair, cradling his head.
She gently kissed his cheek and a tear fell, "...No matter what, your mom will always love you, my child."
Jonathan also put his arm around Clark, silently hugging him.
The three of them stood together in front of the vast Kansas fields, tightly embracing each other.
It felt like both a farewell and the beginning of a difficult and painful journey.
...Clark said goodbye to his parents.
Before he left, he took one last deep look at them, then looked up and flew towards the sky.
...
The blonde boy, carrying the mother box, arrived at the airport only to find it crowded with people.
Seeing so many people for the first time, he felt a bit confused and grabbed the arm of a passerby, asking in English, "What's going on?"
The person he grabbed was startled.
Seeing his face, they hesitated and answered in broken English, "All... all flights are canceled today..."
"Why?"
The passerby shivered, trying to pull free but finding the boy's grip as tight as iron.
They swallowed hard and asked, "Sir, could you... let me go...?"
The boy's face was stern, and he tightened his grip, almost as if threatening.
The passerby cried out in pain, drawing the attention of those nearby.
Someone came over and said, "...What are you doing? Please let him go—"
The boy turned and glared at him.
Blue light suddenly appeared in his eyes!
Pure white wings burst from his back.
In an instant, he transformed from a small boy into a towering Angemon, standing eight feet tall!
The glowing transformation shook the entire airport.
The massive Angemon drew everyone's attention.
He was a terrifying giant.
People screamed and scattered, afraid to come near.
He tossed aside the passerby and strode through the airport, heading towards the runway outside.
No matter the reason for the canceled flights, he couldn't wait any longer—he was eager to deliver the mother box to his master.
The airport security rushed over, following him, unsure of how to handle this strange creature.
The Angemon walked to the glass window and punched it, shattering it completely!
The entire window exploded into a pattern of tiny, sparkling pieces.
He then used his hand to tear through the remaining broken glass, creating a larger gap.
As he was about to fly out of the airport through the gap, a red arc shot down from the sky, followed by a flood of fiery light heading straight for him!
The electric pulse cannon fired at the angelic figure like a torrential downpour.
The familiar red and gold armor of Iron Man appeared in front of him, making his entrance.
The world's most famous superhero—Iron Man—had finally arrived.
"You're really being a nuisance this time, Angemon," Iron Man said.
The enhanced red and gold armor reflected dazzling light under the sun.
The Angemon folded his wings to shield himself from the incoming fire.