The Silent War Begins

Kent Farm.

Clark stared at his father in disbelief. "Why not? I can't even join the football team?"

"We've talked about this, Clark."

Jonathan had just returned from the barn. After washing his face, he spoke to Clark with a hint of fatigue. "Your gifts aren't meant for football."

"Why? I... I can control my strength. Dad, don't you trust me?"

"It's not about trust."

Jonathan hesitated. "There are too many unpredictable situations on the field. What if you get worked up and lose your temper, or try to show off for some girl? Someone could get hurt. Clark, you have a mission more important than winning football games."

Clark did not understand his father's intentions. Disappointment laced his voice as he asked, "Eric can use his gifts for painting and you accept that, but I can't use mine for football?"

"I'm sick of being punished because of my gifts! You believe Eric can handle everything, but you don't trust me to handle things on the field. You never trust me!"

There was anger in Clark's voice. "I can control my strength, and I can make my own choices in life!"

"Clark."

Jonathan's tone hardened. "I'm not signing the permission slip."

"I don't need your permission! I'm joining the football team no matter what. You can't stop me!"

Clark stood toe-to-toe with his father.

Their standoff continued until Eric and Martha returned from grocery shopping.

Martha sensed the unusual tension between her husband and eldest son. She quietly moved closer to her younger son and asked Eric, "Eric, do you know what happened between your father and Clark?"

"Probably something about the football team."

Eric explained to his mother, "I heard Coach Watt wants Clark to join the football team."

"I see."

Martha nodded without saying anything else, though concern appeared on her face.

She knew how her husband felt about the football team.

Now that Jonathan and Clark had begun a silent war, they must have argued earlier.

Eric had a few guesses as to why Clark was so determined to join the football team.

He had probably heard Lana praise Eric's painting earlier and felt a little jealous, so he was eager to make Lana see him in a new light as well.

And since Lana was the cheerleading captain, joining the football team was the most fitting choice.

As for mediating the conflict between Jonathan and Clark, Eric had no interest.

The rebellious Son of Krypton probably would not listen to him anyway.

Since Clark wanted to join the football team, he could give it a try. He would quit soon enough.

Eric was so certain because he was one hundred percent sure that Coach Watt had a problem.

A savage, chaotic, uncontrollable aura seeped from the man's body. Though Eric did not know how he had acquired that superhuman energy, once Coach Watt, who stood on the brink of losing control, erupted, the consequences would be irreversible.

Clark and his father's "silent war" showed no signs of easing even by noon. Neither was willing to back down.

After shoveling a few bites of food into his mouth, Clark silently left the farm.

"I don't know why he's being so stubborn."

Jonathan helplessly set down his knife and fork. "Eric joined the football team once too, but he quit soon after."

"That's different, Jonathan."

Martha looked at Eric, who was focused on his beef and potatoes. "Eric joined the football team in middle school. Back then, football wasn't seen as some honor that proved who they were."

"I wasn't like him when I was Clark's age."

Instead of comparing Clark to Eric, Jonathan spoke of himself.

"Yes, you were very obedient. You never ran away from home one summer to try joining the Metropolis Sharks."

Martha exposed her husband's old embarrassment.

"Cough."

Jonathan shot Eric an awkward glance, clearly unable to bear losing face in front of his younger son. "When did you join the opposing side?"

"Jonathan, Clark just wants you to show him a little trust," Martha said softly.

"His gifts come with responsibility."

Faced with his wife's persuasion, Jonathan sighed with a dejected expression.

The open-air café beside the artificial lake was the only outdoor café in Smallville worth mentioning.

Lex Luthor sat at a table nearest the lake's edge, savoring the distinctive flavor of the town's coffee.

"Lex, to be honest, I still can't believe your father sent you to the fertilizer plant here."

A middle-aged man seated across from Lex spoke to him.

"Caesar sent his sons to the empire's most remote frontiers so they could see how the world worked. For my father, who considers himself Caesar, sending me to a fertilizer plant in a small town is perfectly normal, though I don't think they have anything in common beyond ambition."

Lex set down his coffee cup. "Let's get back on track. How is the investigation into the Smallville High School prom coming along?"

"Of course. That's why I asked to meet with you."

The middle-aged man placed a document envelope on the café table.

"The matter is far more complicated than we imagined. The Smallville government blamed the tragedy on an electrical fire, but that is clearly a cover-up. This isn't the first time they've tried to conceal the truth. Similar incidents have happened many times."

Lex nodded, opened the envelope, and flipped through the materials the man had collected. "As for the suspect, Jeremy, can he really shoot lightning?"

"Based on witness testimony from the scene and the autopsy reports of the victims, that appears to be the case."

The middle-aged man nodded gravely. "There's something else very strange."

He pulled several photographs from the file and handed them to Lex. "This is the gymnasium northeast of Smallville High School. On the night of the prom tragedy, it was severely damaged."

Lex adjusted his posture and carefully studied the shocking destruction visible in the photographs.

The collapsed floor, the snapped and broken basketball hoops, the impact craters in the walls...

"You're not telling me this was caused by humans, are you?"

Lex put down the photographs, his brow slightly furrowed.

"As absurd as it sounds..."

The middle-aged man shrugged. "That's what it looks like."

"Mom, the balloon!"

Their conversation was interrupted.

At a café table not far from Lex, a little girl called out in a childish voice.

Chasing after a balloon that had flown away, the little girl ran out into the street in just a few steps.

Honk! Honk!!

A heavy vehicle came barreling toward her, its horn blaring wildly.

To avoid the little girl in the middle of the road, the driver gritted his teeth, slammed on the brakes, and sharply turned the wheel.

Screech!

The vehicle swerved left, and the tremendous momentum immediately sent it out of control.

Tilting to one side, the vehicle sped toward Lex's table.