The World Without A Boy Called Soren Hargreaves (Part 11)

—Where else can I find you?

The staff at the archives curiously gathered outside, watching the Superman who seemed different now.

No one could pinpoint what had changed in him.

His face remained as handsome, his blue eyes as gem-like and clear, but compared to the Superman people had seen the day before, this version of him carried so much more.

His shoulders were weighed down, and he felt utterly exhausted, as if he had just trudged through the world for over a decade, as if he had endured countless storms and disasters.

The snow and storms of life fell upon him, as if he were carrying the heaviest mountains of the world on his broad back.

…That was the inescapable sin he had committed in hell.

He thanked those who were incredibly kind to him, staggering away from New York.

He headed to Metropolis, to the school he and Soren had attended, asking every faculty member if they remembered a boy named Soren.

They shook their heads, eagerly trying to help him find records of all the students who had enrolled, but there was not a single one named Soren.

"We really want to help you, Superman, but there has never been a student named Soren at this academy," they told him.

He returned to the Justice League, hopeless, inquiring if anyone recognized Soren.

"Soren? Who is that? What's wrong, Superman?" The Flash asked.

"I've never seen this person, and you can't even see his face in this photo," Wonder Woman said after looking at the picture.

Cyborg said, "If you need help, I can search for this person on global networks."

He immediately began searching for Soren's trace online.

This name, derived from German, was used by very few people, and the few individuals named Soren in the world didn't even live on this continent.

Clark searched for them one by one.

He visited every Soren in the world.

Each time, he held onto a flicker of hope, knowing it was hopeless.

But none of them were his Soren.

Some lived by the reeds in Germany, others in the cold of Greenland, some had moved with their families to Australia, while some were elderly, some were in their prime, and others were still in their cribs.

Not a single one was his Soren…

His Soren, he would recognize in an instant.

No matter if he was old or young, ugly or beautiful, regardless of skin color or ethnicity, as long as it was his Soren, he could identify his beloved at a glance.

The parents of a little baby named Soren saw him and excitedly wanted his autograph.

He didn't give them a signature; instead, he took off his red cape and wrapped it around the child who hadn't yet opened his eyes to see the world.

"This is my gift to him," Clark gently stroked the baby's head. "Please tell him he has a very brave, very brave name."

Superman's presence around the world sparked global discussion.

He looked hurried, as if he had lost something incredibly important.

At times, he would suddenly lose his smile, revealing a pain and sorrow that no one had ever seen on his face, his clear blue eyes reflecting a broken heart.

It was as if he had donned an invisible, heavy shackle.

Soon, everyone around the globe knew he was searching for a boy named "Soren."

—but who could have seen him?

…This person had never existed on Earth at all.

The traces of Soren's existence had been erased from the planet, and all memories of him had dissolved into nothingness.

The only one who still remembered him was Clark Kent.

It turned out that the most unreachable distance in the world was not between life and death, but the fact that he no longer had any trace of existence in this world.

Soren, he had left so decisively, decisively enough that he didn't even want to leave a trace for Clark.

How much hatred and how much love would it take to sustain such resoluteness?

He simply didn't want to leave anything behind; he left cleanly, taking all memories of himself with him.

He had made the decision to leave forever.

The god among men staggered through the brightly lit Fifth Avenue.

This was the most bustling street in New York, the center of the world.

"Soren…"

"Soren…"

He softly whispered Soren's name, just like that snowy night many years ago when he and Soren strolled toward the starry Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.

Passersby glanced at the weary Superman.

No one knew what had happened to him.

"Do you need help, Superman?"

Someone bravely stepped forward, asking with concern.

"We can help you too, Superman…" another woman approached.

"You help all of humanity every day. If you need us, just let us know. Are you hurt, Superman?"

An elderly man called out to him.

These kind people had all been revived after the timeline was repaired; they approached Superman, inquiring about his situation.

To them, the world once ruled by Superman, filled with cries of despair, didn't exist.

They still regarded Superman as humanity's hope, their man of tomorrow, the god among men.

Clark stood among them, filled with pain and guilt, scanning each concerned face.

These faces, these caring and worried expressions, these greetings, all came from them.

They were humanity.

Humanity was weak, greedy, bullying each other, waging wars, filled with hatred, trampling one another; they didn't know gratitude, and even under his protection, they still chose to turn their blades against him.

Yet… humanity also gave him the purest kindness and love.

They are weak humans, but they also possess the most powerful forces in the universe—love and courage.

The radiance emanating from humanity almost burns his eyes.

"Thank you."

He expresses his gratitude for their concern, and solemnly says to each person, "...I'm sorry."

The people exchange glances, unsure why he feels the need to say "I'm sorry."

Because Superman has never betrayed humanity.

From the moment he appeared, he has protected the planet that raised him.