My Past

"In our world, strength is everything. The weak have no dignity; they can only be stepping stones for the strong, or sacrifices in war."

His voice was soft, a hint of rejection and disgust flashing in his eyes, but disappearing quickly.

Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating his face and outlining a strange mix of youth and experience.

He didn't hide the Viltrumites' bloodthirsty and warlike culture.

But he embellished his own upbringing somewhat, omitting the excessively bloody and violent details.

Like how he personally killed three companions older than him in order to survive his coming-of-age ceremony;

Like how he crushed the last hope of a civilization for his own chance of escape.

These details were too cruel. He only emphasized that his heart had been out of sync with the planet's atmosphere since he was young, that he was an oddity.

"On Viltrum, weakness is the original sin. All childhood is spent fighting to compete and survive, and adult warriors revel in conquering other civilizations."

Shane's tone was filled with weary helplessness.

"From the time I could remember, all I saw was endless fighting and killing."

"The adults would throw us children into training camps and make us kill each other. Only the final victor or survivor would be nurtured."

"I thought about resisting, but Viltrum's cultural education was the same. They discriminated against the weak and forbade you from showing empathy or compassion under any circumstances—they called it cowardice."

Shane lowered his head slightly, avoiding Tom's increasingly shocked and angry gaze.

These words omitted some things about himself.

Although his way of thinking was different from those pure Viltrumites, his true thoughts deep down were out of place in that cruel environment.

But Shane almost never revealed it during his upbringing.

Except when he was ten years old, when his instructor forcibly sent him to the battlefield, ordering him to wipe out the last survivors in the name of conquest.

The old, the weak, women, and children, the desperate cries, the blood and broken bones all over his body, finally caused Shane, who had been in a high-pressure environment, to have a mental breakdown.

He turned and rushed towards the instructor who had previously praised him.

But Shane quickly realized how far he was from being a Viltrumite warrior who had experienced thousands of years of conquest.

From then on, Shane never showed the slightest abnormality again, and even became more and more outstanding in the eyes of those Viltrumite warriors.

At the beginning, Shane, like countless transmigrators in previous literary works, thought that one day he would be able to return to his hometown.

But later, as his hands were stained with blood again and again, Shane began to subconsciously ignore his original thoughts.

It could even be said that, deep down, he began to fear returning home.

He was awakened from nightmares countless times in the dead of night. In his dreams, Shane had become a standard Viltrumite and finally, one day, when carrying out a new conquest mission, landed on the land of his hometown.

In front of him were his aged former relatives who did not recognize him.

Behind him was the urging of the conquest leader.

Of course, Shane didn't tell Tom any of this, only numbly describing his life for the past ten years.

Tom listened quietly, his hands on the table clenching unconsciously, clearly touched by the cruel scenes described.

He had never imagined that in some corner of the universe, there was a civilization that glorified killing and conquest.

Looking at the young man in front of him who had fallen silent again, Tom felt more sympathy in his heart.

He could feel Shane's deep-seated helplessness, the kind that only people who had experienced real suffering would have.

Tom sighed softly, not asking any more questions, just waiting quietly.

If Shane wanted to continue, Tom felt he should give him enough time and space.

After a moment, Shane spoke again.

"I was always looking for a chance to escape that hellish place."

There was a hint of relief in his tone.

"I took advantage of the Viltrumite coming-of-age ceremony to seize an escape pod from a planet that had been conquered by the Viltrumites."

"I was chased by other Viltrumites during my escape, and the injuries on my body were left from that time."

"I don't know how many light-years I drifted in space. The escape pod's energy was almost exhausted. Perhaps it was fate that I drifted to Earth."

He didn't mention that he had killed his companions at the coming-of-age ceremony, nor did he mention that, even though he didn't agree with Viltrumite culture, he was a prospective outstanding graduate of this year's Viltrumite class.

He only needed to let the other party know that he was a "rebel" against Viltrum, completely breaking with that warlike civilization, posing no threat to Earth, and perhaps even needing protection because he was being purged by his home planet.

Shane carefully told nine truths and one lie.

He knew that Superman and the team that might exist behind him would inevitably be highly vigilant against a civilization like Viltrum.

And as a "rebel" who escaped from Viltrum, he could become their breakthrough point for understanding this potential threat.

If necessary, he could even provide them with some information about Viltrum.

After all, a "rebel" who can actively provide information about the enemy is far more trustworthy than an alien visitor of unknown origin.

More importantly, he needed to use the super technology that most likely existed on this Earth.

He had to find out if Viltrum still existed in this universe.

If the Viltrumite race didn't exist in this universe, then he could recuperate in peace on Earth and start a new life.

If they did exist, he had to prepare in advance, prepare to face their pursuit.

"I know the person who saved me is very powerful. I could feel it from the power within him and that warm aura. I think he must be protecting this planet, a guardian of this planet."

"I don't mean anything else, and I don't want to bring you any trouble."

"I just want to find a safe place to live, away from the endless killing and war."

Shane's voice grew softer and softer, as if he had no confidence in his request.

He hoped that Superman's friend, this Tom who called himself Superman's friend, would have a similar personality to Superman.

If Tom could believe him and pass these words on to Superman, then he wouldn't have to worry about anything else for the time being.

Tom gently patted the table, his tone gentle.

"Child, you've suffered."

His eyes were full of pity, and a hint of determination.

"You don't need to worry too much. Superman is a very kind person. He has helped many alien visitors like you who have encountered difficulties."

"You don't need to think about anything now. Just focus on recovering here. It's very safe here, and no one will bother you."

The anxiety in Shane's heart finally subsided.

He picked up the spoon again and slowly drank the soup.

But he didn't notice that a miniature listening device was hidden in an old locust tree outside the attic window.

The signal receiver of the device was hidden in the tree trunk's veins, silently capturing every sound within the attic.

These sounds were converted by the device into encrypted electronic signals and transmitted to the Batcave in the suburbs of Gotham, hundreds of kilometers away.

Inside the Batcave, the light was dim, and only the cold light emitted by the huge display screen illuminated the surrounding environment.

The display screen was showing a real-time transcript of the conversation between Shane and Tom, along with synchronized annotations of Shane's tone fluctuations, heart rate changes, breathing frequency, and a series of other physiological data.

There was even a small window that played real-time footage taken by the miniature camera attached to the listening device.

Although the picture was a bit blurry and the angle wasn't great, it was enough to see Shane's movements and general expression.

Batman sat in a high-backed chair in front of the display screen, his black suit blending into the dim environment, only his sharp eyes flashing with a gleam under the shadow of the bat mask.

His fingers rested lightly on the keys, simply maintaining this posture, like a statue.

The console emitted a slight electrical current, intertwined with the dim light of the display screen, creating the unique oppressive atmosphere within the Batcave.

"Viltrum..."