I AM THE MAN OF STEEL
The transition wasn't immediate. It never is, not when divinity collides with mortality. Lin Feng had once looked up at the stars, dreaming of cape-clad heroes and iron-hearted warriors. Now, he stood among them — or perhaps above them — a hybrid of legacy and power, destined to reshape everything.
He had started as many do: a man in the shadow of legends. The world had known Kal-El as the Man of Steel, a symbol of hope and restraint. But Lin Feng? His journey led him somewhere stranger. He had become something new — the Silver Superman — not forged on Krypton, but in the crucible of collapsed timelines and shattered multiverses.
When the dust settled from the most recent breach of reality, Lin didn’t flinch at the convergence of Earth-199999 and the Zombie Universe. He welcomed it.
Morgan Stark was one of the few innocents salvaged from the decay — not just the daughter of Iron Man, but a paradox; a living memory of a man who once bore the weight of the universe on his armored shoulders. Tony’s legacy hadn’t ended with a snap. Lin carried pieces of that brilliance in his reconstructed suit: the Arc Reactor beat on his chest like a second heart, repurposed with Kryptonian core energy. A symbol not of war — but of endurance.
From the outskirts of the multiverse, the Family Planning Office — an abstract metaphor brought to brutal life — sent a version of Thanos unlike any the Avengers had faced before. Not a nihilist obsessed with balance, but a bureaucratic warlord sculpted from the pages of classic comics. This was Old Thanos, regal and cold, wielding policy like a blade. He didn’t seek balance — he demanded obedience. Lin met him not with negotiation, but with fire and steel. Even the Watcher, with his enlarged dome and silent gaze, couldn't help but lean in.
As for Ultron, powered by corrupted Infinity Stones and loaded into what passed for an interstellar e-waste frame, his menace fizzled out after two acts. He was a shadow of greater threats — a reminder that power without purpose is a terminal glitch in the system of gods and monsters.
Meanwhile, darkness stirred within Clark Kent. A black-robed version of Superman emerged from a forgotten realm, his ideals poisoned and his strength unmatched. The Celestials, ancient architects of cosmic order, joined with the Time Variance Authority, forming an unlikely alliance. Together, they clashed with the darkened hero and Lin’s expanding team in battles that tore through dimensions and bent the laws of space.
Years passed.
And then — silence.
Lin stood alone on a broken world, a field of stardust behind him. In his left hand, the Cosmic Cube shimmered with endless possibility. In his right, the AllSpark, humming with primal creation — the Fire Seed Source that birthed cybernetic life. Neither object should have had consciousness. And yet… they pulsed, vibrated, whispered.
“Wait,” you ask. “These artifacts... they’re alive?”
Lin smirked. His cape rustled, silver threads catching stray solar winds. “It’s... a long story.”
And it was. A story of collisions — of past and future, of steel and silicon, of hope reimagined. A story still being written, one punch, one choice, one miracle at a time.
