Time would catch up with him anywhere; it would consume, annihilate, and restructure every particle in the universe.
From the moment of the universe's explosion to its eventual demise, everything that happened had already been scripted in time.
Everything exists within time; this moment of his was a script written in time, his previous moment was a script written in time, and his next moment was already penned in time's script.
So he could only watch Soren walk toward a predetermined fate time and again, unable to change any course of destiny, even having to push Soren toward the abyss with his own hands in the reboots.
…This was time, an endless sentence that ultimately judged him!
…In the year 767 of the universe, after one thousand eight hundred twenty-one instances of tearing and reassembling his body, he found himself beside the crying little Soren, separated by the shortest yet most unattainable distance in the world, desperately using his trembling hand to gently caress Soren's face.
"Soren…"
He softly called out the name of a star with a voice full of pain.
Time had even scripted every one of his movements.
In the year 767 of the universe, he lived alongside Soren in the New Erth Palace.
He rebooted time five thousand six hundred ninety-three times due to the emperor's abuse of Soren and rebooted time two thousand four hundred fifty times because of his tears for Soren.
In the year 768 of the universe, following fate's script, he pressed the button on the 3D comic projector in the guard's duty room of the palace.
—This was a long-outdated comic, its first draft printed before humanity had even migrated beyond the solar system.
Few New Erth people still enjoyed such themes, but a little prince who had never seen a comic book treated it as a gift from fate.
Little Soren curiously hid under the table, reading through the entire comic.
In his beautiful blue eyes, a flicker of light shone, the iris reflecting a golden sunset falling in the wind.
Under the warm, orange-hued sunset of Metropolis in the comic, a man dressed in a blue combat suit gently lifted a little girl he had endured countless dangers to rescue from the universe.
He would not give up her life because there were more severe disasters occurring at the same moment.
He would not abandon her life despite the countless powerful enemies and endless interrogations along the way.
He would not forsake her life even if the price of ultimately saving her demanded everything from him.
To him, once he set foot on the path to find her, she became his very reason for existence.
—He was that sun, forever burning, shining his light upon everyone.
Little Soren flipped through the 3D comic with envy, again and again, almost tireless.
His young heart seemed to be touched; he felt as if he were the child whom Superman had crossed countless hardships and traversed the universe to save, his chubby fingers exploring the name, trying to pronounce it: "Su… Su, Suflé!"
And that Superman, who had endured so much, crossed countless universes, and rebooted time over ten thousand times to arrive at this moment beside him, stood in a place he could not see, gazing lovingly at this little star, offering the gentlest response in the universe.
From that day on, Soren finally found the greatest joy of his life.
He gathered his courage and approached the adults around him, requesting to buy a batch of his favorite comic books.
The attendants were immensely surprised and procured his first batch of comics.
The magnificent and intricate adventure stories in the comics completely captivated Soren.
Day and night, he immersed himself in the comics, holding his 3D comic book and hiding in his secret garden, participating in the stories of those superheroes.
Seeing the tense climax, he would gasp softly; upon witnessing amusing scenes, he would giggle happily; when sad stories unfolded, he would feel down for several days, the light in his blue eyes dimmed.
He slowly learned to spell each of their names.
Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark… These superheroes' names, composed of tongue-twisting old English, were initially difficult for him to pronounce.
He stumbled through their sounds before learning to write, carefully copying "Clark Kent" in English letters for the first time on a blank sheet of paper.
He repeatedly erased the crooked English until he finally felt satisfied with a fairly neat version.
Overjoyed, he folded the paper and hid it under his pillow, drifting off to sweet sleep.
This was his… his Suflé!
…He didn't know.
Not far from him, the Superman he cherished most was shedding tears, reaching out to shield him from a blinding light.
Clark never imagined that Soren, at such a young age, had already memorized his name.
He never considered how many marks he would leave in Soren's life, long before Soren realized it, long before he thought they had first met.
On July 9th of that year, Soren received the first gift of his life—a Superman bookmark given to him by an attendant.
They usually stayed far away from him, afraid to intrude.
Soren seemed accustomed to the quiet environment, having rarely spoken since childhood, leading everyone to subconsciously assume that this little prince was just as reclusive as his parents.
Who would dare risk being blamed for attempting to speak with him?
But this year, he began to interact with others and developed his own interests.
He became a cheerful child, laughing like any ordinary kid, allowing them to realize that Soren was nothing like his parents.
…Within his small body was a bright soul, as brilliant as a diamond.
Soren received the bookmark, filled with excitement, his little face flushing as he repeatedly thanked the giver before racing back to his room to tuck the bookmark into his pile of comic books.
—This was the first gift he had ever received in his life.
That night, little Soren leaned on the windowsill, gazing at the twinkling stars in the night sky.