…Watching a butterfly in the darkness, flying towards the light with a resolute determination to face death.
Sometimes, he couldn't help but sit alone in the darkness, reflecting on the moments they had shared since their first meeting.
The golden-haired boy exposed the nape of his neck in his hands.
Despite asking with concern, "How long will the rejection symptoms last? Will it always hurt this much?"
Even trembling in fear when the scalpel cut into his skin.
He still firmly told him, "I trust you, B."
So fearless, as if his trust was backed by a pledge of life.
In the Batcave's medical room, he shielded him beneath his body.
That pale face, drained of blood, looked directly at him, his eyes were burning with an astonishing light.
The fire in those eyes seemed as if it would consume his soul entirely.
At that moment, he knew he could not stop him.
Creatures of darkness are always drawn to the light.
He dared not admit that he had fallen in love with the light that had fallen into his arms.
And this brave Alice chose to journey toward the brightest sun.
The sun god who had lost everything scattered the final handful of soil over the grave of his beloved.
The black soil fell from his steel hands, spreading across the coffin engraved with the boy's name, as if to serve as a kind of proof.
Proof that everything they had was coming to an end as the coffin closed.
Superman, stricken with grief, seemed to have aged dozens of years overnight, even streaks of white hair began to appear in his hair at his temples.
He collapsed in front of the boy's grave, and after a long bout of weeping, he suddenly went mad, trying to dig up the coffin he had just buried in the damp earth.
Everyone rushed forward, attempting to stop the god on the verge of losing his sanity.
It was then that he stepped forward, "That's enough, Clark!"
In Superman's lifeless gaze, he met his eyes, heavy with anger, "Don't forget what you promised him."
Superman who are dazed for a moment, suddenly mumbled, "I... I promised him... I would..."
He suddenly grasped a fistful of soil from the top of the coffin!
"—I will keep this planet under my protection."
Superman stood up, and the grave soil slipped from his hands, falling at Bruce Wayne's feet.
...
Twenty-seven hours after Superman killed the Joker.
Bruce saw his comrade on the television screen that was broadcasted live globally.
A court in a small Middle Eastern country was about to put him on trial.
Just ten hours earlier, he had brutally snapped the neck of that country's highest leader.
He stood at the defendant's stand expressionless, quietly listening to the charges against him.
This suffering Son of God gazed calmly around the absurd courtroom on camera: the deputy of a corrupt leader, the judge serving the puppet government, the international lawyer who flew in from the Mediterranean just to gain fame from trying Superman, and the officials who drained the nation's lifeblood under the puppet regime…
He gently lifted his gaze, his eyes locking onto the television broadcast camera.
The camera auto-focused, aligning perfectly with his godlike face.
"I once endured your endless wars and the trampling of the poor because of the laws you created," he declared with divine solemnity, like a god unleashing thunder, "Your cruelty has often filled me with sorrow. I've always wondered, why do humans plunder, invade, and slaughter one another? Why is your history stained with blood, and why do your epics forever glorify war? Now I understand—because you are weak."
He effortlessly crushed the handcuffs meant to restrain him.
Every machine gun surrounding him cocked in unison, each barrel aimed precisely at his body.
Yet he floated upward gently, gazing at humanity with a look of pity.
"Because you are weak, you need to trample the lives of your fellow humans to prove your own strength. You force women and children to live under the constant threat of death and hunger. You send the innocent to cross minefields ahead of you. You press the buttons that launch missiles. You purge dissenters and silence every voice that contradicts your views. You eliminate every report that threatens your power. You hide your own ugliness, your depravity, and your greed. You are full of all the flaws and weaknesses of humanity—and you think you are fit to judge me?"
"You murdered the president!! You are violating Earth's human rights!!" The deputy of the corrupt leader screamed in fury at his words, scrambling up to the judge's bench, trying to amplify his voice with the microphone.
Superman turned his head slightly, and scarlet heat vision shot from his eyes!
The deputy's brain matter evaporated instantly in the searing heat.
The crowd screamed, and bullets rained down on him like a storm.
The live broadcast was quickly cut off, but Superman no longer cared.
His heat vision swept across the courtroom in the hail of gunfire, severed limbs and mutilated bodies flying in every direction.
Blood and flesh splattered everywhere, the scene so horrific that it was as if hell had descended upon the court.
The blood that splattered stained his cape a dark, almost black hue.
The once bright red cape now hung limp, no longer able to billow in the wind.
Amidst the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood, he ascended into the sky like a god returning to his throne.
In 1 Corinthians 15:24, the gospel is preached to all: "Then the end will come, when Christ hands over the kingdom to God the Father after He has destroyed all dominion, authority, and power. For Christ must reign until He has put all His enemies under His feet."
Under the assault of those devices, Soren was gravely injured.
His strength was nearly depleted, and he could no longer maintain his Angemon form.
With his last bit of energy, he materialized the Excalibur in his right hand and opened the door to the warehouse.
He never expected to find Clark there…
He never expected to see that kind of Clark.
Clark's expression was one of disgust and hatred.
His thick eyebrows furrowed, and in his Kryptonian blue eyes, there was no trace of the deep affection or longing that once resided there.
In those once-enchanting blue irises, there was only the reflection of his own panicked face.
Clark stared at him and began walking toward him.
For a moment, he almost instinctively stepped back in fear.
At that very moment, the Excalibur in his hand dimmed and lost its edge.
He held the Excalibur.
…And Clark had figured out his true identity.
In just a few seconds, countless thoughts raced through his mind.
Clark must have realized by now that he was the Angemon.
It was obvious from the sword in his hand, the weapon known to the world.
Would Clark think he had been lying to him all along?
Would Clark believe that all his closeness, everything between them, was built on concealed secrets?
Soren retreated in despair, but Clark charged at him without hesitation.
The murderous intent of the god of Earth was so overwhelming, it felt as if it would crush Soren's heart.
He looked sorrowfully at Clark's face—the face he loved, once as radiant and beautiful as the sun god Apollo, but now, there wasn't a trace of the love that had he had once pledged.
Soren's gaze shifted to Luis Lane who is standing behind Clark.
Did Clark think he had kidnapped Luis Lane?
But he truly, never… never intended to take anything from Clark…
He wanted, desperately, to explain to Clark right away, to clear up that he never meant to deceive him.
But Clark had already shoved him through the atmosphere.
Clark's hand tightened around his throat.
Choking, Soren struggled with all his might to reach out, to touch Clark's face.
But he no longer had the strength…
His heart trembled with pain.
His heart wept in sorrow.
He couldn't stop himself from wanting to cry.
Tears fell onto Clark's hand.
Straining for breath in Clark's grip, Soren rasped out, "Are you going to kill me, Clark?"
Clark didn't answer.
Soren finally plunged into despair.
If this was what Clark wanted...
If this was Clark's revenge for all the lies…
He thought.
…He wouldn't fight back against Clark.
In his final moments, Soren's expression was almost tender, like that of Saint Bartholomew making his last prayer before sacrificing himself for the Holy Son.
He gazed at Clark's blue eyes, now devoid of recognition for him.
His body turned to a skeleton in the burning atmosphere.
His soul departed…
Someone caught his soul as it fell into the endless night.
Once again, he traversed the universe.
He reached the edge of the cosmos.
In his deep sleep, he dreamed a beautiful dream.
In that dream, he saw Clark as an adult for the first time.
He happily opened his collection of DVDs, pulling out one disc after another, enthusiastically telling Clark about the stories that had fascinated him.
Soren grew tired of talking and turned his head to ask Clark if he had any favorite films.
When he looked over, he saw…
Clark smiled and patiently listening to his ramblings.
That autumn afternoon's sunlight was warm and radiant, the golden rays streaming through the white curtains and falling on Clark, making him glow as if he were bathed in the light of the sun itself.
…He looked like a sun god basking in sunlight.
Like the Superman he had first fallen in love with, the one who lifted a little girl into his arms at sunset.
He had smiled so foolishly then… his words tumbling out in a continuous stream, one after another, as if to hide the words he truly wanted to say.
What made him happiest wasn't that someone was there to listen to him ramble… but that he had finally come to be by Clark's side.
The person he had admired and loved from childhood into adulthood.
His blue eyes were the most beautiful color he had ever seen in his life.
…Clark would never know that Soren had spent his entire life loving him.