"What are you commemorating?" Soren asked.
Clark's embrace tightened slightly.
Soren heard the heaviness in Clark's voice as he spoke above him, slow and solemn, "In memory of all those who have passed."
Soren felt a sudden wave of anxiety.
His thoughts rushed to the vision of Metropolis he had seen through Dr. Manhattan, and a cold chill ran down his spine.
The blood drained from his face as he sat up quickly, asking, "What… what happened to Metropolis?"
Clark gazed at him, his silence heavy.
After a pause, he finally spoke, "Metropolis is gone. The Joker detonated a nuclear bomb in the city… millions died, and Martha and Jonathan… they're gone too."
His voice broke off.
He clenched his lips tightly, his jaw set, and the glimmer in his eyes shattered like a stone thrown into a still pond, the ripple of grief breaking his composure.
Soren's face went pale.
His lips quivered as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.
His entire body sagged in on itself, his arms falling limply onto Clark's shoulders, "They… they…"
His memories flashed back to the last time Clark had spoken of them, smiling as he told Soren that Martha and Jonathan were visiting Metropolis.
He had even been thinking of what gifts to bring Martha…
Why?
Soren couldn't understand why fate had to be so cruel to Clark.
He couldn't bear to imagine the pain Clark must have endured, facing such devastation alone.
Metropolis was Clark's city.
Soren knew how fiercely protective Clark was of Metropolis, how deeply he loved the city with all his heart.
Clark had a kindness and selflessness so boundless that he would even save a cat stuck in a tree.
In the bright sunlight, the vibrant red cape used to soar above the skies of Metropolis every day…
It was the only city where people would look up, searching for that red cape.
It was the city they lived in.
The city Clark loved.
Not to mention Jonathan and Martha…
Soren felt as if a part of his heart had been carved out—what had Clark ever done wrong to deserve this?
What in the world had he possibly done to deserve such a cruel fate?
Why did he have to bear such pain?
Why?
Was there ever fairness in this world?
Was there ever any shred of mercy, of compassion?
Why did all the misfortune have to be heaped upon one man?
Soren suddenly lifted his head, his gaze piercing through the window, as if it could reach across the universe, full of anger and grief, like a spear aimed at the god at the edge of existence.
—Is this the timeline you constantly see?
—Did you already know that all of this would happen?
—You watched from the sidelines, letting Clark suffer, and refused to intervene?
—Dr. Manhattan?
But the infinite, silent void of space outside the window offered no response.
Soren leaned forward, embracing Clark, his voice breaking with emotion, "I'm sorry, Clark."
In Clark's darkest times, he wasn't there by his side.
If only he had realized sooner… if only he had known about the Joker's plan earlier, he would never have let this happen.
But his own foolishness had even contributed to it—
He bit his lip, his shoulders trembling, the scapulae along his spine rising like the wings of a butterfly, as he felt the weight of a million innocent lives pressing down on him.
How could he ever atone for all of this?
"You don't have to apologize," Clark cupped his face, speaking with sincerity, "You did nothing wrong. The one who truly deserved to pay… he's already been punished."
"The Joker?"
Clark's expression grew cold, "He took everything from me."
Soren sensed something ominous and asked tentatively, "Did you… take the Joker back to Arkham Asylum?"
Clark remained silent.
From his expression, a far more terrifying suspicion began to form in Soren's mind.
Suddenly, Soren gripped Clark's shoulders tightly, "You didn't… right? Clark, I know you wouldn't do that. Your hands—they're not meant to be stained with their filthy blood—"
"Is that so," Clark replied softly, almost like a sigh.
In that instant, Soren felt as if the blood in his veins had turned to ice.
A chill ran through him, and he shivered.
He stared at Clark in disbelief, his fingers weak, yet unwilling to let go.
His eyes wide open, it was as if he could no longer clearly see Clark's face. "Did you kill the Joker, Clark?"
"He killed millions of people. He took you away from me, took my parents, and left me with nothing."
Clark's blue eyes were as cold as ice.
"—He deserved to die a long time ago."
Soren, lost and unsure of what to do, let go of Clark.
It felt as though something inside him had collapsed.
When he looked closer, he realized that the pile of crumbled stones came from the last wall of justice.
"How could you let him taint your hands?" Soren muttered, his voice trembling, "Your hands are meant to save the world, not to kill, Clark. If you do this, they'll leave scars on you, and you'll never be able to turn back—"
"But it was worth it."
"If, by paying that price, I can bring everlasting peace to this planet, then it was worth it," Clark sat up, his face filled with a conviction Soren couldn't understand, "Every ounce of suffering was worth it—every drop of blood was worth it."
Soren stood frozen, staring at him.
Clark's eyes made him feel like he was falling into an icy abyss.
— It seems like he no longer recognizes this Clark.
"Clark..."
Clark gently patted his head as if offering comfort, "Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing. I'll give you the gift you want most."
"—What gift?" Soren muttered.
Clark didn't answer.
He looked out the window, gazing into the distance at the serene and massive blue planet beyond the Watchtower, "You'll see it very soon."