đ If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon! I'm offering advanced chapters there as a thank-you to readers.
--------------------
Check out advanced chapters on : patreon.com/Veni_V
---------------
In the heart of the sun, time had lost all meaning since the shadow of Lex Luthor's consciousness had first appeared beside Clark's dormant body.
No one had come to stop him. No all-powerful cosmic deity had intervened, claiming Clark was part of some grand design. No other surviving Kryptonians had appeared out of a sense of kinship.
Not even the bald, yellow-robed sorcerer from Earth had come to stand in his way. He was completely unopposed, and the immensely powerful body before him, with even more potential than the Superman from his own world, was within his grasp.
Yet, Luthor could not take the final step. He couldn't take over Clark's body.
As the dominant consciousness in this moment, Luthor was able to witness Clark's past memories. The everyday moments with his family held no sway over him; he had already seen Superman's flawless character countless times. But what truly held him was a different memory, one from the ruins of Metropolis, at the very end of the world.
There, a lone figure grieved for him, for Lex Luthor. It was a man who, despite receiving Luthor's explicit warning and having the chance to wait for the timeline to be reset, had still chosen to fight against the mighty Superman for a world Luthor himself loved.
What had driven this Clark, who had not yet fully formed his identity as Superman, to stand so bravely against his counterpart? Was it simply because of his Kryptonian heritage?
At that moment, Luthor saw the answer in Clark's heart. The reason Clark fought so desperately to protect the last spark of humanity was because of himâbecause of Luthor.
Luthor had always shown his love for Earth and humanity in his interactions with Clark. And so, after his death, Clark had not hesitated to don armor and fight Superman, all to protect the Earth and humanity that Luthor held so dear.
Luthor might have been an evil man, a villain who caused immense destruction, but as a human supremacist, he valued humanity and the Earth above all else. Who would have thought that a man like him would find his only true friend in an alien?
"Luthor, Luthor, how could you be swayed by a lonely tombstone and a moment of grief?" he muttered to himself. His shadowy form shook before his eyes hardened, and his consciousness merged directly into Clark's body.
The space of consciousness was utterly dark, for Clark had willingly fallen into a deep sleep to let his body instinctively absorb solar energy. In this profound darkness, Luthor searched until he found a figure glowing with a faint white lightâClark himself. Curled into a ball, Clark floated in the void, completely asleep.
Because it was a space of consciousness, even an ordinary man like Luthor could fly. He slowly drifted toward Clark and raised a fist.
"With this, I will create a perfect Superman!" he declared. "The world will be changed!"
Luthor swung his fist down, striking Clark's consciousness on the forehead. But in the next moment, it was not Clark's consciousness that shatteredâit was Luthor's.
His consciousness began to splinter from his fist outward. The personality that made him Luthor broke apart, leaving behind only pure memories that slowly flowed into Clark. The ferocity on Luthor's face was replaced by a sense of relief.
He, Lex Luthor, was a pure human beingâa man of flesh and blood. If the Superman before him had been the one from his own world, the one who was his eternal rival, he would have taken over his body without a second thought.
But this Superman was different. This was a friend who had treated him with genuine kindness, mourned his death, and was willing to fight for his beliefs with his life.
He was a man who had lost, and he could not possess the body of his friend.
If he couldn't become Superman, then he would become one with him. His own despicable personality should not be allowed to corrupt Superman's noble character.
Instead, he would pass on his most precious things: the knowledge and experience he had gained. This young Superman would no longer be naive. He would be a Superman who possessed the wisdom of the world's smartest human and was also unimaginably powerful.
Though he would most likely never see the future he had helped create, Luthor felt a surge of pride at the thought of such a perfect being, knowing he had made it possible.
"Work hard, boy," he whispered. "Don't waste the wisdom and memories I've given you. You will become the most powerful Superman in the universe."
With these words, Luthor's consciousness shattered completely. The last remnants of his personality no longer had the power to remain and were instinctively expelled, reappearing in the center of the sun.
This final, remaining fragment of Luthor's mind, now without the power of thought, began to drift through the universe. Perhaps the only end waiting for him was complete annihilation, the total disappearance of his consciousness and personality.
Meanwhile, in the center of the sun, Clark remained asleep. But if anyone could have seen him, they would have noticed crystal tears forming at the corners of his eyes, only to be instantly vaporized by the intense heat.
Suddenly, Clark's eyes snapped open. The surge of emotion from the depths of his being had woken him. As he fully and truly received Luthor's memories, he also understood Luthor's final fate. There was no time to mourn for long, as Clark knew even greater challenges awaited him. After a moment of sorrow, he closed his eyes again and slipped back into a deep sleep.
This time, however, his body's absorption of solar energy became more and more voracious. The influence of Lex Luthor had remained after all.
At the college, the atmosphere was heavy after the encounter with Jean Grey.
Hank McCoy had just returned from submitting his resignation to the President of the United States, only to find that his old friend, Charles Xavier, had been reduced to a vegetative state.
Though Emma Frost and Scott Summers' last-ditch effort had saved Charles's life, the damage was irreversible. The elderly Charles could not withstand such injuries, and the direct mental battle with the Phoenix had left his brain severely damaged. Even if he survived, he would likely be bedridden for the rest of his life.
The near-total loss of Charles was a massive blow to the college, which was built almost entirely on his students' loyalty. They were now left wondering if they should even continue to operate the school at all.
