"Come down for breakfast, David,"
The voice of his mother, Martha, called from downstairs. "You and Clark are going to be late for school."
"I'll be right there, Mother."
The golden sunlight of the early morning poured through the window into the room. David, having just finished washing up, responded and changed out of his pajamas.
With short, jet-black hair, deep and chiseled features, and a tall, slender frame, his body displayed well-defined muscles, making him look both clean and composed. His appearance was reminiscent of a silent Greek statue, standing proudly.
"Too bad..."
David approached the mirror, clenched his fist, and flexed his muscles. The power within him surged, more formidable than dense alloys, resembling the explosive force of a volcanic eruption. His skin rapidly turned purple, and hard, earth-like lines appeared along his jaw, adding a sense of authority. In the mirror, he appeared like a silent king, observing his own reflection.
"Thanos' template fusion progress is steadily rising, but if I push too hard, the skin color still doesn't improve."
Template Fusion Progress: 81%
Glancing at the progress, he stopped exerting effort, allowing his skin tone to gradually fade. He quickly donned his clothes.
A slight sigh of resignation crossed his face as he made his way down the stairs.
"What is this? Retaining a bit of the original essence, and that's how I realize it's the Thanos template?"
At least, he didn't resemble Thanos—two meters tall, with tiny eyes and a bald head like a purple potato.
David touched his hair with a hint of amusement.
That kind of powerful hairstyle? Even as a high school student, he could hardly pull it off.
Ding!
The crisp sound of the toaster echoed.
The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the living room as David descended the stairs.
Tap, tap, tap!
As David reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of light footsteps followed him.
"Good morning, David."
Clark, his older brother with bright blue eyes, passed by him and entered the living room. Feeling a little thirsty, he opened the fridge and turned to David. "Want some milk to wake up?"
As he spoke, he poured some milk from a large glass bottle and took a couple of swigs.
David raised an eyebrow and walked toward the dining table, ignoring his foolish older brother.
"Don't drink it like that, Clark,"
Martha quickly stepped forward and snatched the cold milk from his hands.
"It's better right after it's taken out of the fridge," Clark, who was still a 17- or 18-year-old young man, smiled as he raised his hand.
"What about our manners, Clark?"
Martha, who had just finished preparing breakfast, sighed with a hint of exasperation.
Over the years, a few wrinkles had quietly appeared at the corners of her eyes.
"Come sit down for breakfast, David. You'll miss the school bus if you don't hurry."
"Good afternoon, two sleepyheads."
Jonathan, the burly man who had just finished feeding the farm's cows, came in, removing his clothes, which were covered in straw, and threw them on the sofa.
He took the milk from his wife's hands, took a few gulps, and then commented on his two sons, much like Clark had done earlier.
"Alright, I know where your manners went,"
Martha placed her hand on her forehead at the sight of this.
"Remember, after we got the new sofa, you said we should shake off the straw outside before coming in, Jonathan," David calmly reminded his father, taking the milk from him and pouring himself a glass while biting into a warm piece of toast.
Jonathan gave a sheepish look to his wife, who was looking at him disapprovingly.
He pulled out a chair and sat down, then coughed a couple of times to clear his throat before speaking seriously.
"Honestly, I think getting this fabric sofa was a mistake. We live on a farm, after all."
"This Kent family finally has someone like me,"
Martha didn't get upset over the stained sofa. She gently placed a hand on David's shoulder, giving her two sons a comforting smile.
Clark rubbed his forehead, trying to hide his face. It was hard to deny, growing up on the farm, he, like his father, didn't pay much attention to the cleanliness of the house, while David, his younger brother, was the more meticulous one.
"From Superman Clark, with +3 frustration."
David glanced at the notification that popped up in his mind, not even lifting an eyebrow as he took another bite of his bread.
It was true that growing up with Clark, the walking gold mine, had allowed his Thanos template fusion to progress rapidly, giving him strength that was unimaginable for an ordinary person.
In terms of time, David was the first child in the Kent family.
However, Clark, who had traveled in space before arriving on Earth, looked significantly older than David, who had only been born a few days ago.
Thus, Clark became the older brother, and David became the younger son.
"What are you looking at, Clark?"
Martha sat down, took a sip of her milk, and noticed Clark was absent-mindedly staring at a note, a smile playing on his lips.
"A permission slip,"
Clark fumbled a little, trying to hide the note.
"What kind of permission slip?" Jonathan, holding a jam knife, glanced over.
"School football team. They're holding tryouts this afternoon."
David, who went to the same school as Clark and was in the same class, casually added.
He didn't mention it, but his honest Kryptonian brother would always tell their adoptive parents the truth.
"Clark..."
When the mention of football tryouts came up, the atmosphere at the table changed. A brief silence fell, and only David kept eating at his usual pace.
Jonathan and Martha exchanged glances, and Martha hesitated.
"What's wrong, Dad? You used to play football in school."
Clark looked uneasy, unsure how to approach his father.
"But you're different, Clark," Jonathan's voice turned serious as he tried to soften it for his teenage son.
They had once wondered if the baby they had found was really an alien.
After all, he looked exactly like a human, no horns, no tail, and his skin wasn't strange at all.
"You could lift a truck with one hand when you were a kid,"
When Clark was seven, he had been fixing a car on the farm when the jack slipped, and the truck—weighing over a ton—was about to fall.
Young Clark, with his innocent and naïve demeanor, effortlessly lifted the truck, just like lifting a plastic dinosaur toy, and moved it to the side.
But Jonathan, stunned beyond words, hadn't seen that his own younger son had also reached out to help.
Clark, of course, hadn't noticed. To them, a truck was as light as a feather.
"I'll try to hold back on the field,"
Clark promised, looking at his parents, wanting to convince his father.
"The charm of sports lies in the thrill of competition and surpassing yourself."
David suddenly spoke up, pretending to be puzzled, "I don't quite understand, my dear brother..."
Especially football, American football—it's a contact sport, and players are supposed to crash into each other while carrying the ball down the field.
"How would joining the football team help you experience that?"
The difference in strength between Clark, a Kryptonian, and Earthlings was like comparing a delicate glass to a heavy object. On the field, Clark would likely be more focused on controlling his strength than anything else.
"Dad, I promise I'll be careful,"
Clark, feeling increasingly frustrated, mumbled as his younger brother kept calling him "dear brother." His parents' skeptical looks only made things worse.
It seemed like the other families always pampered their younger sons, but in their case, it was the older son who got all the attention. His little brother constantly targeted him, always claiming it was for his own good.
"I know you will, but what if—what if something happens?"
Jonathan, having played football before, knew the dangers on the field. Every moment was full of running and collisions.
How could an elephant run without accidentally crushing a kitten along the way?
"I..."
As always, hearing his father's firm and serious tone, Clark felt utterly defeated.
Every time, it was the same: "What if, in case, if..."
What could he possibly say in return?
"Dad, I've had enough,"
Young Clark's frustration boiled over, his voice rising in excitement.
"I'm tired of avoiding all activities, just sitting in the corner of the school reading books, unable to do anything. I could be more popular like the others..."