Superman

Ethan woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the wooden shutters. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted into the room, mixing with the crisp air of the countryside. Stretching his arms, he felt more refreshed than he had in a long time. It was rare for him to have a peaceful night's sleep, and for once, he was able to rest without the fear of experiments, fights, or guards lurking around every corner.

Getting out of bed, he quickly washed up and stepped outside. The sight before him was simple yet heartwarming—the old couple who had given him shelter were sitting on a small wooden bench, engaged in light conversation. Their warm laughter carried through the air, making Ethan pause for a moment, appreciating the tranquility.

He walked toward them, his steps light. "Morning."

The elderly man, Jonathan, turned to him with a welcoming smile. "Ah, good morning, lad! Sleep well?"

Ethan nodded. "Yeah, surprisingly well."

Martha, the old woman, chuckled. "You look like you needed it." She gestured to the seat next to them. "Come, sit with us."

Ethan hesitated for a moment before taking a seat. It was strange—he was used to running, fighting, and surviving, not sitting and chatting with kind strangers.

Jonathan gave him a curious look. "So, young man, what exactly are your abilities?"

Ethan smirked slightly. "You sure you want to see?"

The old couple exchanged amused glances before Jonathan nodded. "We're not as easy to scare as you might think."

Ethan stood up, stretching his fingers, and allowed golden light particles to swirl around him. The particles danced and shimmered before forming into a solid construct—this time, a long, sleek sword of pure light. He swung it lightly, the energy humming as it cut through the air effortlessly.

Jonathan whistled. "That's mighty impressive."

Martha clapped her hands together. "It's beautiful! Like something out of legend."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, surprised at their reaction. "You're… not scared?"

Jonathan laughed. "Son, we've seen a lot in our years. Powers don't make a person good or bad—only their actions do."

Before Ethan could respond, a powerful gust of wind blasted through the area. His senses flared, his instincts screaming at him. He turned his head just in time to see a blur—no, a person—rushing toward him at inhuman speed.

The next second, a fist was flying toward him with the force of a freight train.

Ethan barely had time to react. His body instinctively transformed into light particles to avoid direct impact, but the sheer force of the attack sent him hurtling backward. He crashed into a wooden fence, coughing up blood as pain erupted through his body. His vision blurred for a moment before focusing on the figure standing before him.

Superman.

The man of steel stood tall, his eyes glowing red with barely restrained heat vision, his expression stone-cold. "What are you doing here?" His voice was deep, authoritative—like a judge passing sentence.

Ethan wiped the blood from his mouth, staggering to his feet. His body ached, but he forced himself to stand tall. "Well, that was uncalled for."

Superman narrowed his eyes. "I saw you wielding that weapon. You were about to attack them."

Ethan let out a breathless chuckle. "Wow, jumping to conclusions much?"

Superman tensed, but before he could advance again, Martha's voice rang out sharply. "Clark Joseph Kent, you stop this instant!"

Superman froze, his expression shifting to pure shock. "M-Ma?" His gaze darted between the old couple and Ethan. "What's going on?"

Jonathan stood up, placing a firm hand on Superman's shoulder. "Son, he's not an enemy. He saved our lives last night."

Superman's posture eased slightly, but his expression remained guarded. He turned to Ethan. "Who are you?"

Ethan crossed his arms. "Some guy who just wanted a place to rest and ended up getting sucker-punched by Superman."

Jonathan sighed. "Clark, apologize. He's been through enough."

Superman's jaw tightened, but he sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry."

Ethan shrugged. "Well, at least now I know what it feels like to get hit by a truck with a cape."

Jonathan chuckled. "Now, why don't we all sit down and talk like civilized people?"

Ethan glanced at Superman, who still seemed wary. He smirked. "Fine by me. But, Clark? Next time, just ask first. Would save me a few broken ribs."

Superman sighed, finally letting his guard down. "Noted."