The global economy was in a steady decline, with disrupted trade routes, halted industrial division, and the collapse of private enterprises.
The populace was left without jobs and, consequently, without income.
The prolonged war had severely damaged economies worldwide, leading to a dramatic decrease in Earth's population.
The planet was edging closer to becoming a dead world.
Superman had become a true autocrat.
He used bloody methods to quell the unrest, targeting the ever-growing resistance forces.
Captured resistance soldiers were often executed on the spot by Superman himself—under his rule, all humanity trembled and wept.
Human dignity was obliterated, millennia of civilization fractured, and Earth was left in tatters, teetering on the brink of collapse.
After the meeting, Kal-El returned to his only rest area in the Justice League headquarters.
His Soren was still sleeping soundly in bed, completely unaware that the outside world was in turmoil.
Soren remained snug and happy, protected under the warmth of Kal-El's cape.
"Soren," Kal-El gently dug him out from the soft goose-down blankets, holding his slim body with both hands. "Time to wake up, the sun's shining on your backside."
Disturbed from his slumber, the boy began to sulk in Kal-El's arms.
He lightly kicked the Man of Steel with his small, delicate feet, rubbing his eyes and complaining grumpily, "What's the matter? I want to sleep— I want to sleep!"
Kal-El chuckled softly as he grabbed Soren's feet, tucking them back into the blankets.
On those slender ankles were thick black iron rings, connected to heavy iron chains. The ends of the chains were fixed to the floor.
The chains, made from Korentium Steel, were surprisingly light given their immense strength.
Korentium Steel was the hardest metal in the universe, forged only under the pressure of reverse black holes, often used to drag stars across galaxies.
When Soren had first been rescued, his mind was unstable.
He would often lose control unconsciously, transforming into Seraphimon and attacking him, causing widespread destruction.
Later, Superman had traveled across the cosmos, finding an ancient forge in a forgotten galaxy where Korentium Steel was crafted.
It was there that he forged these shackles, along with this room, to keep Soren confined forever.
In the entire universe, only Superman possessed the strength to tear apart Korentium Steel.
Soren would be very, very safe here.
Superman no longer had to worry about Soren ever leaving him.
And after he placed the shackles on Soren, his mental state began to stabilize day by day.
The painful Soren appeared less and less over the months.
Now, each day, Soren was happier, and more joyful than the day before.
Superman held Soren close, lowering his head to kiss his trembling eyelashes, his voice a deep, comforting rumble from his chest. "Don't sleep any longer, it's time for breakfast, hmm? What do you feel like eating? It's snowing today. I'll open the window for you later, alright?"
Soren, nestled in his arms, blinked up at him and asked, "What is 'snow'?"
"It's like beautiful, white flowers. You'll see them in a bit. For today's journal entry, you can write that it's snowing," Superman replied as he began dressing Soren.
He gently helped Soren raise his arms, removing the light blue cotton pajamas and replacing them with a soft, smooth cashmere sweater.
Soren remained still, quietly obedient, like a delicate, finely crafted doll.
After slipping on the fluffy, soft white turtleneck sweater, Soren eagerly reached for the notebook on the bedside table. "I'll show you yesterday's journal! I learned a few more words!"
Every day, Soren handed his journal over to Superman for review.
It was filled with spelling mistakes, reversed letters, jumbled sentences, and misused punctuation.
Despite Superman's best efforts to teach him, Soren's mind struggled to retain the knowledge he was trying to learn.
Perhaps, deep down, Soren subconsciously resisted learning.
He rejected becoming the brilliant Soren he once was.
It was just like when Claem first tried teaching him how to write his own name—Soren had reacted violently, screaming and crying hysterically.
Eventually, he lost control and evolved into Seraphimon.
Kal-El had barely managed to subdue the Seraphimon.
Afterward, Soren had fallen into a deep sleep that lasted almost a week.
When he finally woke up, he had once again forgotten how to write his own name.
"I'll look at your journal later. Let me make breakfast first. How about Dutch pancakes today?" Kal asked patiently.
Soren's face lit up with joy, nodding his head enthusiastically.
He gave Kal-El a sweet smile, his pink-tinted knees resting on the bed as he wrapped his arms around Kal-El's neck. "Lots and lots of powdered sugar!"
"You can't have too much sugar. You'll get cavities," Kal-El teased, tapping Soren's nose with his knuckle.
The childlike figure scrunched his nose in protest.
Though he didn't dare disobey Kal-El, the unhappiness was plain on his face.
His long, thick lashes lowered in a sulky expression as he muttered, "But I like powdered sugar."
Kal-El looked at him silently.
For a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, it felt like he had been transported back to Metropolis all those years ago.
The clever, happy Soren used to pull this same pitiful act, trying to convince him to add an extra slice of cheese to his potato burrito.
They'd spend rainy weekends together, curled up on the small couch in Kal-El's modest apartment.
But in the blink of an eye, old dreams had become distant memories, and amidst the vast passage of time, there was no longer any return in sight.
When Clarm brought out a plate of pancakes sprinkled with raspberries, blueberries, and a dusting of white powdered sugar, Soren was already sitting obediently on a chair, drinking his milk.
One hand gripped the glass, while the other played with a small square photo frame on the table.
Inside the frame was a picture Clarm had found in Soren's clothes—an old photo taken years ago of the two of them under the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.