The Cheerleader Neglecting Her Proper Duties

Clark ultimately did not use his newly awakened "X-ray vision" to peek at Lana.

In his view, observing through a telescope was still within acceptable bounds, but using "X-ray vision" was a complete invasion of someone else's privacy.

Despite possessing gifts beyond those of ordinary people, Clark had always tried not to let his gifts be controlled by desire.

The next day.

On the field at Smallville High School, the young and beautiful cheerleaders danced with enthusiasm.

The members of the Crows jogged onto the field.

Although the football team had suffered heavy losses at the Blood Dance, under Coach Watt's training and reorganization, the team quickly pulled itself together.

Wearing number 32, Clark took a deep breath and ran through the tunnel to the entrance of the field.

The glaring sunlight shone down, mingling with the faintly sunbaked scent of turf and dirt, making him feel dizzy.

"Whew!"

Clark looked toward the cheerleaders, trying to find Lana among them.

But to his disappointment, Lana was nowhere to be seen among the cheerleaders.

Puzzled, he looked toward the stands, but still did not spot Lana.

Though he had not found Lana, he unexpectedly saw his father, Jonathan, sitting in the stands.

"Hey, Dad!"

Clark was glad his father had come. Setting aside their earlier unpleasantness, he took the initiative to greet him.

"I'm glad you came, Dad. This is really important to me."

Jonathan's face remained stern. "I still don't support your decision to join the football team, Clark. I'm here to make sure no one gets hurt because of you."

The smile on Clark's face swiftly vanished at his father's cold words.

He had thought their "silent war" was over, but he had not expected his father to remain as stubborn as ever.

Disappointment, anger, and resentment brewed inside him.

After giving his father a complicated look, he turned and left.

The heavy, invisible barrier between them still remained.

"Watch your positioning! Don't get sacked! If there's no opening, punt immediately! Got it, Clark?"

Coach Watt, whose voice was as loud as a leaf blower, roared as he patted Clark on the shoulder.

"Got it!"

Clark nodded, somewhat nervous, his peripheral vision drifting toward the stands where his father sat.

"Tweet!"

The whistle blew, and the game began.

Clark caught the football and instinctively ran forward.

But the next second, someone slammed into him and knocked him down hard.

"Kent!"

The hot-tempered Coach Watt strode over, grabbed Clark by the helmet, and yanked him upright.

"Stop staring at the damn stands! Your father isn't the coach—I'm your coach! Keep acting like an idiot, and get the hell off my field! Get your head in the game and attack, understand?!"

Coach Watt roared, gritting his teeth as if he wanted to devour Clark whole.

The second round began.

Having adjusted his mood, Clark glanced at his opponent.

Tweet!

The whistle sounded!

Clark immediately clutched the football and sprinted forward.

A wide receiver launched himself at Clark in a diving tackle, ready to bring him down.

But Clark, who had been ready, drove his shoulder forward and violently sent the tall, burly wide receiver flying.

"Good job, Kent! That's more like it!"

Watching Clark show such impressive strength, Coach Watt clapped and shouted his encouragement.

Jonathan, sitting in the stands, merely shook his head and left with a face full of disappointment.

He had no interest in watching the rest of the game.

After scoring a touchdown, Clark removed his helmet and looked toward the stands, only to discover that his father had already left.

The joy of his touchdown was instantly diminished.

Meanwhile, the Lana Clark had been looking for was sitting in the living room, reading through the manuscript she had obtained from Eric.

"Lana, why are you home so early?"

When Nell returned from work and saw Lana sitting in the living room, she asked in surprise.

"Aren't you going to cheerleading practice?"

"You could say that. I've quit the cheerleading squad, Aunt Nell."

Lana smiled at her aunt. "It's a little regrettable, but I don't regret it."

"Why? Didn't you love cheerleading? I remember when you first joined the squad, you were so excited you couldn't sleep all night."

"People change, Aunt Nell."

Lana carefully placed the manuscript on the table. "I've found there are more important things in life than memorizing cheerleading chants and waving pom-poms."

"This isn't like you, Lana. I know you."

Aunt Nell walked over and sat beside Lana, asking softly, "Is it because of Whitney?"

"No, it has nothing to do with Whitney."

Lana shook her head. "Whitney is recovering in the hospital, and he's doing well. I'd been thinking about quitting the squad for a long time. Before, the football team cheated on an exam, and every player seemed to think it was perfectly natural. All of a sudden, I felt there was no point in waving pom-poms for a group of people who would do anything to win."

"Forget about the cheerleading squad, Aunt Nell. I discovered that one of my classmates is incredibly talented at writing and drawing!"

"Your classmate?"

"Yes, Eric Kent!"

Lana handed the manuscript to Aunt Nell. "This is his work. I've never seen anything like it! It overturns order, it's mad, it opposes all reason. I don't know how to describe it in any language."

Lana grew a little excited as she described how it felt to read it. "When I began reading, it felt as if I had left an ignorant little island and entered a dark, boundless sea filled with countless secrets. I was teetering at the edge of an abyss, ready to fall into ruin at any moment under the gaze of some unknown presence. Eric is a genius!"

"Really?!"

It was the first time Nell had heard Lana praise someone so highly. Half doubtful, she began flipping through the manuscript.

The title on the first page caught her eye—Whispers in the Dark.

".The ruined pier stretched from the shore into the sea, its far end often rotted into a blurred mass. A long black line lay across the distant waters, faintly revealing a strange and sinister aura. A subtle, peculiar stirring seemed to arise beyond revulsion."

Was this describing Gotham City?

It did resemble the Gotham she remembered, the city with the worst public safety in America.

She continued reading and was soon drawn in by the seemingly magical words.

By the time she finished the final passage, "Brain in a Vat," she shuddered.

A cold, sinister feeling washed over her, as though reason itself had vanished.

It was as if her mind had undergone a saturated bombardment, with most of her rationality stripped away in the process.

Although the writing was obscure and difficult to understand, sometimes even incomprehensible, it possessed a kind of magic that kept drawing her onward.

"You said... the author is Eric Kent? The Kent family's younger son?!"

After taking a deep breath and steadying herself, Nell asked Lana.

Thank you all for your votes.