The World Without A Boy Called Soren Hargreaves (Part 6)

And that diary—every word—was filled with Clark's name.

They had met again at a base in Africa, where Clark coldly told him he would kill everyone he knew.

It turned out that their entire life story had been a poem written from the moment they first met.

And at the end of every line, the rhyme was always the same painful refrain: "I love you."

How could he have forgotten?

How could he have forgotten the one person he loved most in his life?

He had left Soren in hell while walking himself into paradise.

The person he had personally destroyed was still standing in the vastness of the years behind him, smiling faintly through the passage of time.

—It was Clark who had destroyed Soren with his own hands.

He had taken away his love, and then taken away his happiness.

He had pushed this angel, who had come to him offering a heart full of warmth, to the brink of collapse again and again.

He had reached out from the depths of hell, attempting to imprison an angel who was born with wings.

He had told him he would break those wings.

And eventually, he got what he wanted.

The Soren who had lost his memories became a sweet, beautiful fool, unable to remember anyone but Clark, resting only in his embrace.

But what Clark didn't know was that from that very moment, Soren had already been destroyed.

Stripped of everything, the light in Soren's eyes had faded, and he no longer had any reason to live.

Clark Kent, how could you forget?

How could you so easily attain your redemption at the cost of Soren's life?

In the final year of his time in hell, after being gravely wounded by a kryptonite hydrogen bomb, Kal-El was imprisoned by Batman in a transparent cylindrical cell bathed in red sunlight.

When he woke up, he found himself bound in a gray and white straitjacket.

The red sunlight drained his powers, leaving him no stronger than an ordinary human being.

This was the cage Batman had built for him, the one that would confine him for the rest of his life.

He knew Soren was dead.

His Soren.

Just a short distance away from him, no longer breathing.

And he hadn't even been able to see him one last time.

Just like that, he had lost Soren again.

…And perhaps this time, it was forever.

Kal-El broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, his heart shattered into pieces.

He had never cried tears so hot, so bitter.

He pounded the reinforced glass walls with his fists, his knuckles cracking and bleeding as the blood smeared across the glass.

Days later, Batman's black mechanical boots finally appeared before his eyes.

Batman, who had also lost everything, stood in front of him, calmly calling out his name: "Clark Kent."

Like a sky finally calm after a storm of dark clouds and torrential rain, the atmosphere settled into a cold stillness.

Kara-El knelt on the ground, one hand resting on his knee, his gaze indifferent as he looked up at Batman.

He was silent for a moment before he slowly spoke: "Congratulations, you defeated me, Bruce."

Batman's fists clenched tightly.

He stared hard into Kara-El's eyes, the exposed part of his jaw beneath the cowl tense, his voice a low, growling rumble: "No, we defeated you, Clark."

"It was all of us who brought you down. I want you to remember this defeat today. You will remain humanity's prisoner, forever."

Kara-El answered with silence.

He was like a faded sun, drained of all life and light, as he muttered lowly from within the red prison: "...You can do whatever you want to me, but let me see him again… let me look at him one last time…"

Batman's gaze was icy as he looked down at this fallen god, now quietly begging him.

"See him?" Batman spoke each word with barely suppressed rage, "You want to see him? Then stand up and take a look at yourself, Clark Kent. Stand up. Look at me."

Each of his words pressed down on the last, his voice growing heavier and more strained.

By the time he uttered the words "Look at me," he nearly shouted, slamming his palm against the glass wall and rasping, "Do you think you can see me now? Do you know who gave you these eyes? Clark Kent?"

The deep meaning behind his words made Kal-El jump to his feet, looking at Batman and repeatedly asking, "...What do you mean, Bruce? What do you mean... What do you mean... No, this isn't real..."

The most terrifying truth struck him like thunder, a massive wave crashing down, knocking him off balance.

He barely steadied himself, pressing his hands tightly against the glass wall.

In the reflection, he saw in his eye sockets those clear, light blue eyes.

—These eyes were the very eyes of the one he loved, etched into his bones.

With their clear blue glimmer, a faint white ring encircled the outer edge of the iris, crystalline and cold like the Nordic sky.

In utter despair, he covered those eyes with his hands, crying out hopelessly, "Soren—"

His fingers itched to dig into his eye sockets, to tear out these eyes that didn't belong to him.

But these were the last remnants left to him by Soren; these were Soren's eyes, Soren's eyes!

Why?

Why would you give me your eyes, Soren?

I destroyed you, hurt you, took away your friends, your family, your happiness, your sanity, dragged you from the heavens into the abyss, leaving you in fear.

Yet why would you still give me your eyes?

So foolish, Soren, you are so foolish.

I don't deserve it, I don't deserve it...

He collapsed to the ground, trembling, he extending his hands to catch the drops of excruciating tears falling from his eyes.

He felt like a man who is pierced by countless arrows, his broad back collapsing like a mountain, each sob sounding like a blood-curdling wail.