He awoke at the edge of the universe.
Suddenly, memories from past and present lives came crashing down into his heart.
…He was still dressed in the white military uniform from the New Earth Army front lines, his blond hair falling down to cover his eyes.
Dr. Manhattan stood before him.
With clenched fists and tearful eyes, he looked up at him.
"Why?"
He questioned the most powerful god in the universe.
"You've been watching me all along... You've always been by my side!" He clenched his fists tighter, accusing the god, "You could have stopped me... You could have stopped him!"
Because of his obsessive nature, he walked into the trap laid out for him without hesitation.
Because of his obsession, he didn't resist Clark's killing blow...
...But how much pain must Clark have felt, killing him with his own hands?
He couldn't imagine Clark's agony.
His heart shattered at the thought of the pain Clark might have endured.
If only he had been fully conscious...
if only his mind had been clear...
Then, no matter what, he would never have let Clark kill him.
He would never have let Clark suffer even the slightest injury.
How could he bear to let Clark suffer any pain because of him?
Dr. Manhattan's pure white eyes were like countless indifferent formulas in the universe—equal, uniform, casting only a fleeting glance his way by chance.
The god calmly said, "For a being like me, every choice I make splits the universe into countless new realities, and without exception, every world born from those choices faces inevitable destruction."
"...So I cannot alter any decision. I must follow the original path; otherwise, the world he exists in, the timeline where you and I exist, would also be altered. I have no choice. —When I became eternal, I lost the power to make choices."
Soren collapsed weakly in front of him.
He helplessly clenched his fists, pressing them against his forehead.
With a trembling, anguished voice, he asked Him, "But have you ever thought about how much pain Clark must be in?"
Dr. Manhattan silently watched him.
The darkness surrounding them, the vast emptiness around the Prometheus Galaxy, surged around them as if it were about to break free from the ground and swallow them whole.
"You haven't done what I wanted you to do. You didn't stop him. The future I see is still shrouded in darkness," Dr. Manhattan continued.
Soren let out a low, bitter laugh.
"How am I supposed to stop it?"
"I've done everything I possibly could."
"Isn't that enough?"
Dr. Manhattan's pure white eyes gazed down at him.
As though he was looking through Soren, at someone else.
"It's not enough... it's still not everything."
The god told him this.
Soren lifted his head and softly asked, "Are you always this cruel?"
Dr. Manhattan paused.
He slowly began to take a few steps back.
Behind him, the pink sands began to rise, painting the surroundings in various hues.
He retreated into a familiar sight for Soren, the endless farmlands of Smallville.
The fields were filled with bountiful corn, their stalks heavy with the harvest.
The corn swayed gently in the breeze, the green leaves obscuring his figure.
"It's not me who is cruel, but the laws of the universe."
Dr. Manhattan gazed at him calmly and said, "Outsider, you too are a part of the universe's laws. No one can escape their destined fate. You must do what I command you to... if you could see it." The god raised his hands, a scarlet light flashing in his right palm.
To his right, a scene of utter devastation appeared.
In the midst of the ruins, the iconic golden globe of the Daily Planet building lay sunken into the ground, surrounded by shattered and crumbling structures.
Exposed steel beams from the collapsed buildings stretched toward the sky like white bones.
It was... Metropolis.
A dead, desolate, ownerless Metropolis that Soren had never seen before.
Occasionally, vultures would dive from the sky, scavenging decayed flesh from the dusty ground and layers of debris, where no one was left to bury the dead.
Soren's pupils dilated suddenly.
"Metropolis... how could this be... who did this?!"
Dr. Manhattan raised his left hand next.
On his left, a vast plume of smoke filled the air.
It fell upon every city on Earth.
Amid the ashes of Apokolips' invasion forces, a human god with glowing red eyes ascended from the ground into the sky.
Countless people cried out in agony, reaching up toward the human god in desperate pleas during this apocalypse.
Billions bowed at the feet of this god.
They knelt in reverence, like devoted followers, their prayers rising in waves like the roar of an ocean, all chanting a single name...
"Superman."
Dr. Manhattan lowered both hands simultaneously.
All of these terrifying scenes dissipated with the motion of his palms.
"Go save him," Dr. Manhattan said, his tone unwavering.
"Or this world will be destroyed because of him."
Soren stood frozen, his eyes wide in disbelief, his gaze unfocused as it lingered on the visions Dr. Manhattan had shown him.
"He... could he really..."
"Go save the Earth," Dr. Manhattan said, as the pink sands behind him shifted once again, transforming into a gleaming vision of Metropolis as it once was—bright, clean, bustling with life, the sky a brilliant blue and the towers standing tall.
"As a reward, I will grant you any request you desire."
Soren interrupted him before he could finish speaking, "I will return."
His voice trembled, but there was a resolute determination in his expression.
"I will definitely go back. But— I don't want this body anymore."
He gradually calmed down and spoke with composure.
If it weren't for this body... if it weren't for that damn suppressor.
If it weren't for his cursed genes.
Clark wouldn't have had to endure such pain.
"You once reassembled me into a cat," he said, looking at the pink gravel around him,
"You can surely reassemble a new body for me. I imagine that wouldn't be difficult for you."
Dr. Manhattan paused.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, "Have you already decided to abandon your past?"
Soren raised his head, looking at the blue deity before him, and replied deliberately, "I never had a past."
Dr. Manhattan turned his face aside.
The distant skyline of the metropolis behind him shifted dramatically, and in an instant, it transformed into a universe sparkling with countless stars.
"...Perhaps you will," he said softly, lifting his hand slightly, sending Soren back to Earth once again.
...
Soren arrived on Earth for the third time.
It was as if he were carbon transformed into a diamond under the pressure and searing heat of flames.
Then, he became light.
He awoke in the stifling sensation of frozen lungs and the jolting spasms of a nervous system coming to life, his entire body stiff from the cold.
The piercing chill was so pervasive that he suspected even his bones were creaking under the pressure.
He furrowed his brow slightly and found himself inside a large rectangular container.
Someone roughly dragged him out of the container.
That person grasped his arms and moved him to an old, battered black laboratory chair.
A fine layer of frost still clung to Soren's eyelashes.
His eyes hurt from the sudden exposure to light, and he squinted, taking in the blurred surroundings.
He cautiously remained silent, with a hint of confusion on his face.
A dark-haired man with deep-set features pressed down on his head.
His hair was yanked back, forcing him to lift his head and expose his entire face.