Lana Falls into the Indescribable

"Two students were unfortunately killed, while another six students who attended the dance were injured and are receiving treatment at the hospital. Fortunately, those who were seriously injured are now out of danger."

As one of the student parent representatives, Jonathan attended the government-organized "Smallville High School Dance Incident Discussion Meeting" and told his family what he had learned over lunch.

Because such a major accident had occurred at the school, classes were suspended for two days.

That was also why Eric and Clark had not gone to school.

"So, Jonathan, what exactly happened?"

Martha asked with a furrowed brow.

"Clark mentioned before that a football player named Dan Brown was murdered. The suspect in his murder was the culprit behind the tragedy at the dance."

Jonathan picked up the coffee beside him as he explained to Martha. "The killer's name was Jeremy, but he disappeared three years ago. I don't know why he suddenly came back this time."

"Did the police catch him?"

Martha continued asking.

"Actually, Jeremy is already dead."

Jonathan shrugged, raised his coffee cup for a sip, and quickly frowned.

It was unclear whether it was because of the bitterness of the coffee or his inability to understand what they were discussing.

"Jeremy's body was found on the high school campus. His cervical spine was broken, and he died from it. Even though he was the killer, if he had been alive, he surely could have provided the police with a lot of information."

When Clark heard Jonathan say that Jeremy had died from a broken neck, he immediately cast a suspicious look at Eric across the table.

Other than Eric, Clark could not think of anyone else in Smallville who could have killed Jeremy without alerting anyone.

"I heard that the students who died and were injured were all members of the football team. Is that true?"

After processing Jonathan's words, Martha asked about what she had heard.

"Jeremy did have some conflicts with the football team, but I think that's something the school and Coach Watt should be more concerned about."

Jonathan did not want to continue discussing the matter. After replying, he said no more and changed the subject.

"Clark, the tractor won't start. Help me repair it later. I suspect the high-pressure oil line is worn and leaking. I hope it won't need replacing this time, or that'll be another expense."

"Okay, Dad."

Clark nodded at his father and lowered his head to deal with the fruit salad on the table.

Sitting across from Clark, Eric began considering how to launder the money he had gotten from the gang so his parents could accept it.

"Clark."

Jonathan, his hands covered in engine oil and dressed in worn repair coveralls, asked Clark, who stood beside him, "Were you involved in what happened at the dance?"

Clark had been lost in thought. Hearing his father's words, he froze for a moment before shaking his head.

"No. I wanted to stop Jeremy, but I failed."

Clark's tone was somewhat dejected. "If I had been more mature, I could have stopped this tragedy, but I messed everything up."

"No one is perfect, Clark."

Jonathan wiped his hands with a rag and patted Clark on the shoulder. "If you try to place everything on yourself, you'll eventually find yourself covered in wounds. At the right time, you need to learn to push things away—whether it's pressure, responsibility, or other people's harsh criticism."

"I thought I could change something, but..."

Facing his father, Clark spoke his mind. "Like Eric. I tried to change some of his views, but in the end, I couldn't change anything."

"Maybe you brothers need to have a proper talk."

Jonathan offered his suggestion and brought up something from his own past.

"When I was in high school, I had an argument with my cousin over who owned a boxing glove. Barry Lee Jones—do you remember him? He visited our house last year. Back then, we got into a fight, and neither of us would back down."

"Later, your grandfather locked the two of us in a corn storage shed. It was only big enough for the two of us. After half an hour of maddening boredom, we started talking, because there was nothing else we could do except talk."

Jonathan paused before saying, "So after two hours of talking about everything, we made up."

"Clark, sometimes all you need to do is create an environment where you won't be disturbed, listen and talk, and keep at it until you completely understand each other's thoughts."

After hearing his father's guidance, Clark nodded thoughtfully.

"I understand, Dad."

After helping Jonathan repair the tractor, Clark washed his hands and decided to have a proper talk with Eric.

But what he did not expect was that his brother's room had received a visitor he never would have imagined.

Lana Lang stood in Eric's room, staring at the drawings pasted across the walls in shock.

Black-and-white sketches rendered in pencil or charcoal, their light and shadow interwoven, depicted heart-palpitating monsters in an indescribable starry sky. Their savage forms hungrily and greedily devoured everything.

Tools like crayons had been used to draw a gigantic monster sleeping beneath the water. Its terrifying body and scale-covered wings were painted against a viscous, gloomy background covered in green moss. In the lower right corner of the painting were the words, "Atlantis Karasen."

There was also a colored painting that left a deep impression on her. In a night where its colors could not be distinguished, something like scarlet blood mixed with black mud. Dim yellow light shone over it, and a shadowy building with "Arkham" written on its surface was hidden within the night, which could only be called "black."

"This is Arkham?!"

Lana remembered reading in a book about the history of American cities that Gotham City had an "Arkham Asylum."

Could this painting depict Gotham City's Arkham Asylum?!

Countless thoughts flashed through Lana's mind, and dense beads of sweat seeped from her forehead.

Staring at those paintings made her feel as though she were gazing into an abyss, and the abyss was gazing back at her.

Fear, strangeness, indescribable terror seeping through the darkness.

It was as if her soul were being drawn out by those bizarre paintings, as if her mind had somehow become tainted by something indescribable.

"Lana Lang?"

A voice pulled her back from her daze.

Lana, wrenching herself free from that strange state of mind, turned around uncertainly and found Eric standing behind her, frowning at her.

"Eric!"

After crying out, she immediately realized her loss of composure and hurriedly apologized to Eric. "S-sorry, Eric. Mrs. Kent asked me to come to your room to find you. I saw the door was open and thought you were inside."