[Saraphiel Kent / Fire Demon – Shendu, age 5]
[Abilities Awakened: Divine Power – Explosion, Divine Power – Regeneration]
[Loading Guardian Privilege: Eight Trigrams – Thunderburst]
"..."
Lock glanced at the faint, crackling blue arcs dancing between his fingertips.
Then he looked at the translucent system panel floating quietly in front of him and couldn't help sighing inwardly.
As expected of one of the most gifted candidates for the title of Sorcerer Supreme.
That induction efficiency…
Nothing more to say.
In just twenty minutes, Saraphiel and Shendu had managed to grasp divine power.
Unfortunately…
Now wasn't the time to sit down and carefully study "Thunderburst Qi."
He steadied his thoughts and focused again on his nephew, who was staring back with a troubled expression.
Seeing Clark's bright blue eyes—slightly uneasy and faintly glowing—Lock confirmed:
"You're saying…"
"Lately, whenever you concentrate your mind and focus on a specific point, that object…"
"Either melts… or catches fire?"
Clark nodded hard, and to make it more obvious, he turned his head and stared sharply at a tiny white wildflower growing on the lawn.
Crackle!
A crisp sound rang out—its petals rapidly shriveled and blackened.
Then a small flame burst up, reducing the poor flower to ash.
And then…
It didn't stop.
The grass beside it began to smolder as well.
"Stop—stop! Quit it! Don't start a wildfire! Our farm can't handle that kind of insurance claim!"
Lock quickly pressed a hand onto Clark's shoulder.
Electric arcs flickered faintly at his fingertips.
With a shiver, Clark's runaway energy instantly subdued itself.
At this point, how could Lock not understand?
Clark's body had reached a critical development stage.
One of his signature abilities—
Heat Vision was beginning to manifest uncontrollably.
"Uncle… can you help me control it?"
Clark withdrew his gaze, his face tight with frustration.
He clenched his fists subconsciously, lowering his head.
"I wanted to figure it out myself… but every time I secretly practiced, I either got nothing at all, or… or it turned into what just happened. I lose control completely."
His voice sank into self-doubt.
"Uncle… am I useless? I can't even control my own body…"
"It's nothing."
Lock reached over and vigorously ruffled Clark's thick black hair, speaking with a relaxed tone.
"Listen, Clark—this is growth."
"When you grow, your body and your powers will naturally run into problems you've never faced before. That's normal."
"This doesn't mean you're useless. On the contrary, recognizing the issue and working to overcome it only makes you stronger."
"And also…"
"Believe in yourself, Clark."
Lock paused, his expression turning serious.
"And believe in your uncle's special training."
With that, he casually pulled a few leftover balloons from his pocket—leftovers from decorating the party earlier.
A mere thought, and Star Platinum swept the balloons over to the windmill's outdoor faucet, filled them with water, and silently returned them to Lock's hands.
"?!"
"Uncle… this…"
The water balloons glimmered under the sunlight, crystal-clear.
"This is your first assignment for the next few days, Clark."
Lock lifted the balloons slightly.
"Use your eyes to heat them."
"Your goal is to heat the water evenly—without damaging the balloon at all—until it reaches a boil."
"And eventually…"
He placed one balloon on his palm.
Then—
Something amazing happened.
The water balloon slowly began to expand.
Bigger.
Clearer.
More transparent…
Until—
Boom!
The balloon burst.
But astonishingly—
No water splashed out.
Only a rush of warm steam puffed into the air, dispersing alongside the purple, lightning-wreathed silhouette surrounding Lock.
Exactly.
In that tiny moment—
With Star Platinum controlling the Thunderburst Qi, Lock had electrolyzed the water inside the balloon into hydrogen and oxygen.
Lock himself couldn't accomplish such fine control.
But could Star Platinum? Absolutely.
Thankfully his stand was the cafeteria Chili Sauce God—otherwise, controlling Thunderburst Qi this delicately so soon after learning it would've been impossible. No way he could've demonstrated this level of micro-control so clearly.
"Watch carefully, Clark."
"This is the final form you're aiming for."
Lock pointed at the waterless, faintly damp balloon fragments.
"Not just heating—precise micro-release of energy."
"Heating the water until boiling without harming the balloon."
"And then converting all the water into steam."
"Using only the pressure of the steam to expand the balloon until it naturally splits open from within."
"?!"
Clark stared at the fluttering rubber scraps on the grass… then at his uncle's face that clearly said, Isn't this easy?
His eyes widened.
How was this even possible?!
"Uncle… this difficulty…"
He stopped halfway through his sentence—because he'd met Lock's encouraging gaze.
And with that, Clark swallowed the rest of his complaint.
His eyes firmed.
"I… I'll try!"
"Good! Then the first lesson starts now!"
Lock lifted another full water balloon and held it out.
"Heat this balloon in my hand, Clark. Don't worry—believe me. Believe yourself."
"Uncle!"
Clark's heart jumped in panic.
Did this mean—
If he mis-aimed his heat vision even a little…
Would he vaporize his uncle?!
He didn't even want to imagine it.
"Don't be afraid, Clark. Aim at me."
Lock's voice was calm. No fear at all in his eyes.
This was…
Trust.
Clark took a deep breath and focused.
Ding—
Lock felt the air around them quietly building, heating.
Training began—hot and intense.
But while the two were fully absorbed, far away behind the fence—
Two pairs of eyes peeked nervously.
"Oh heavens! How can Lock train a kid like that?!"
Jonathan stomped anxiously.
"That balloon is tiny! If the heat spreads even a little, he'll melt it! Or worse—hurt Lock! This is too dangerous!"
"Keep your voice down!"
Martha pulled him down by his shirt collar.
"And how do you think he should train Clark? Like you taught him to control his strength? Punching scarecrows?"
"…"
Jonathan opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"At least… at least start with something sturdier? More heat-resistant? Like…"
"A bowl of water?"
"You—honestly—"
Martha flicked him on the forehead.
"Stop worrying. Lock knows what he's doing. He has powers—he understands Clark better than we do."
Jonathan grumbled… and drank more.
Before long, Martha sighed.
"Clark's situation… when do you plan to tell him?"
"Not yet, honey. He's still just a kid."
"Jonathan."
Martha's voice turned firm.
"Clark is almost eighteen. He's a good boy—kind and responsible."
"He deserves to know who he is. Where he came from."
"Lock talked to me last week—he thinks it's time both boys learned the truth."
"Let's wait, Martha. Clark is still dealing with his new powers—"
"Don't delay, Jonathan."
"Clark is—"
"…"
His words died.
Seeing his pleading expression, Martha relented with a soft sigh.
"I'm done arguing. I'm going back to help the guests."
She walked away.
"Oh—Lex drank too much and is hanging onto Saraphiel talking nonsense. Go help him before he falls."
"..."
Jonathan pouted, but followed.
—
Moonlight like liquid silver poured over the Kent farm.
Guests trickled out.
Bob yawned loudly and stumbled away to catch the last train to Florida.
Chloe guided old Henry home.
Lana lingered, scanning the yard.
No tall silhouette.
Her eyes flickered with disappointment before she politely said goodnight and headed down the moonlit path.
Zatanna finished showing Saraphiel two simple magic tricks, smiled at his excitement, and disappeared as abruptly as she came.
And so—
The yard, once lively and loud, fell quiet.
Except for—
"Jonathan! Tell me—honestly! How can something this ridiculous exist in the world?!"
Lex Luthor—usually immaculate and polished—now had wrinkled clothes and a crooked silk tie.
He was thumping Jonathan's back, ranting with fiery indignation:
"I was being KIND! Extremely kind!"
"I bought that plot of land near the reservation to HELP the struggling Native community!"
"I wrote the proposal clearly! I'm building modern, eco-friendly apartments!"
"And I was going to let their young people live there for nearly free! I'm IMPROVING their living conditions!"
"And what do they do?!"
"They protest in front of my company every day! Saying I'm desecrating their sacred land! Destroying traditions! Killing the environment!"
"They're— they're CRAZY!"
He gulped air.
"And I'm the one FIXING the radiation pollution there! They must have dumped trash everywhere—that's why the soil is contaminated!"
"And I'm using advanced tech to restore the environment! I'm HELPING them! And they turn around and accuse ME?!"
Jonathan—also drunk—nodded furiously.
"That's right! Lex! Let me tell you!"
"When the first Kent generation settled here—my grandpa, old Kent—he gave food to the poor Indians constantly! And one day—they nearly captured him to take his scalp!"
"Oh my stars—I was terrified just hearing the story!"
"Jonathan uncle—!"
"Lex! You're a good kid!"
And so—
A young corporate shark and an old-school farmer…
Sat under the moonlight, drunk and emotional.
Bonding deeply over being misunderstood by the world.
By the time Lock and the weary-eyed Clark returned from training—
They found this deeply touching scene.
Both froze.
"Looks like…"
Martha approached, helplessly smiling.
"Those two will have to stay here tonight."
Lock nodded, chuckling at their drunken camaraderie.
Lex never brought bodyguards—unlike his father Lionel, who traveled with an entire entourage.
"When he was younger, Lionel once got drunk here too—his bodyguards had to carry him out."
"It's just a shame…"
Martha sighed softly.
"He really wanted to meet Dio today. Rare chance that he actually relaxed enough to visit, but still didn't get to see him."
"Don't worry. Today's the Harvest Festival. The town's packed."
Lock shrugged.
"Dio's probably still drowning in orders at the bakery. He's definitely still in the kitchen kneading dough."
"..."
Saraphiel and Clark exchanged a silent look.
Very wisely—
they said absolutely nothing.
"Anyway, let Lex sleep here tonight."
Lock continued.
"He can see Dio tomorrow when he sobers up. Dio should be back soon."
"Mm."
Martha looked at Clark—and the bag of balloons still clenched in his hand—and laughed.
"Looks like he won't be thinking about anything else until he finishes your assignment."
"Mom!"
Clark flushed.
"Alright, alright." Martha chuckled. "Let's go home."
She led him down the moonlit path, leaving Lock and Saraphiel behind.
The two stared at each other.
"So—did you learn anything from Zatanna today?"
Lock bent down gently.
"…It's kinda hard…"
Saraphiel's face deflated instantly.
He waved his little hands:
"Her sleight-of-hand tricks need really flexible fingers… twist this way, flip that way… I keep messing up…"
Magic required practice.
Saraphiel sighed.
But—
Lock suddenly felt his stomach drop.
Magic…
Is it really that hard?
Did Zatanna teach him something advanced?!
"It's okay," Lock comforted.
"You're still little. Take your time."
"But… I don't have much time left."
Saraphiel shook his head, brows furrowed with worry.
"..."
A giant question mark appeared above Lock's head.
Time…?
What time?