Chapter 3: The Weight of a Dying World
Pain.
Not physical, but something deeper. A gnawing, unbearable ache in his soul.
His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was the sky. It was blue. Endless. Warm.
He was lying in a field, the soft rustling of grass around him. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin. Birds chirped in the distance. It was peaceful.
But peace was the last thing he felt.
His small fingers curled into the fabric wrapped around him—the red cloth his mother had placed over him before sealing him in the pod. His mind was still slow, still adjusting to this new life. He was a baby, but he wasn't. His memories were fractured, distant yet clear.
He had wished for this life.
And because of that, Krypton was gone.
The thought hit him like a hammer.
I caused it.
The god had given him this life. It wasn't fate. It wasn't destiny. It was his wish.
Had Krypton existed before that? Had his arrival rewritten history, making it so the planet was always doomed?
Or worse—had it only been doomed because he had taken this life?
A shuddering breath escaped his tiny lips. He wanted to scream, to deny it, to say it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't.
The guilt seeped into his bones, heavier than anything he had ever known.
Krypton is gone because of me.
The screams. The explosions. The way his mother had pressed her hand to the glass, whispering we love you.
He had taken it from them. From all of them.
And now he was here. Safe. Whole. Given the powers to protect.
But he hadn't protected Krypton.
A sharp cry broke through his thoughts.
He turned his head—his infant body still too weak to move much—and saw a woman. Blonde hair. Soft features. Kind eyes filled with concern. She knelt beside him, reaching out.
"Shh… you're okay, little one," she murmured.
Behind her, a man approached. Tall. Strong. A farmer's build. His brows furrowed as he studied the small pod behind him.
"Rebecca… what the hell is this?"
The woman, Rebecca, ignored him for now. She scooped the baby up, holding him close. He felt her warmth, heard the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
"It's a miracle, Jacob," she whispered. "A baby… all alone in the middle of nowhere?"
Jacob crossed his arms, glancing at the sky. The way the grass was flattened around the pod, as if something had crashed. He didn't like this.
But when he looked at the child—those deep, sorrowful blue eyes—his resolve cracked.
"…We can't just leave him," he muttered.
Rebecca smiled. "Then we won't."
The baby—Kal, though they would give him another name soon—stared at them.
They're going to take me in, he realized. Just like the Kents had taken in Clark Kent in the stories he had once read.
But in his heart, he wasn't that boy. He wasn't some helpless child. He was someone who had wished for this. Someone who had destroyed a planet just by existing.
His small hand curled into a fist.
I couldn't save Krypton.
But I will never let another world suffer the same fate.
He would protect this planet. This time, he wouldn't fail.
Not as Kal-El.
Not as the boy he had once been.
But as the Superman this world needed.
And maybe—just maybe—one day, that would be enough to atone for the sin of surviving.
---
What's Next?
He grows up struggling with his powers, haunted by his guilt.
His adoptive parents teach him the value of life, but he hides his memories from them.
As he ages, his Kryptonian abilities slowly develop—strength, speed, heat vision—but not all at once.
Marvel's world starts noticing him. Maybe Charles Xavier senses something? Thor feels an unusual presence on Midgard?
How should his childhood go? A normal upbringing, or do we introduce something early, like a first encounter with Marvel characters?
A Superman in Marvel
Chapter 3: The Weight of a Dying World
Pain.
Not physical, but something deeper. A gnawing, unbearable ache in his soul.
His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was the sky. It was blue. Endless. Warm.
He was lying in a field, the soft rustling of grass around him. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin. Birds chirped in the distance. It was peaceful.
But peace was the last thing he felt.
His small fingers curled into the fabric wrapped around him—the red cloth his mother had placed over him before sealing him in the pod. His mind was still slow, still adjusting to this new life. He was a baby, but he wasn't. His memories were fractured, distant yet clear.
He had wished for this life.
And because of that, Krypton was gone.
The thought hit him like a hammer.
I caused it.
The god had given him this life. It wasn't fate. It wasn't destiny. It was his wish.
Had Krypton existed before that? Had his arrival rewritten history, making it so the planet was always doomed?
Or worse—had it only been doomed because he had taken this life?
A shuddering breath escaped his tiny lips. He wanted to scream, to deny it, to say it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't.
The guilt seeped into his bones, heavier than anything he had ever known.
Krypton is gone because of me.
The screams. The explosions. The way his mother had pressed her hand to the glass, whispering we love you.
He had taken it from them. From all of them.
And now he was here. Safe. Whole. Given the powers to protect.
But he hadn't protected Krypton.
A sharp cry broke through his thoughts.
He turned his head—his infant body still too weak to move much—and saw a woman. Blonde hair. Soft features. Kind eyes filled with concern. She knelt beside him, reaching out.
"Shh… you're okay, little one," she murmured.
Behind her, a man approached. Tall. Strong. A farmer's build. His brows furrowed as he studied the small pod behind him.
"Rebecca… what the hell is this?"
The woman, Rebecca, ignored him for now. She scooped the baby up, holding him close. He felt her warmth, heard the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
"It's a miracle, Jacob," she whispered. "A baby… all alone in the middle of nowhere?"
Jacob crossed his arms, glancing at the sky. The way the grass was flattened around the pod, as if something had crashed. He didn't like this.
But when he looked at the child—those deep, sorrowful blue eyes—his resolve cracked.
"…We can't just leave him," he muttered.
Rebecca smiled. "Then we won't."
The baby—Kal, though they would give him another name soon—stared at them.
They're going to take me in, he realized. Just like the Kents had taken in Clark Kent in the stories he had once read.
But in his heart, he wasn't that boy. He wasn't some helpless child. He was someone who had wished for this. Someone who had destroyed a planet just by existing.
His small hand curled into a fist.
I couldn't save Krypton.
But I will never let another world suffer the same fate.
He would protect this planet. This time, he wouldn't fail.
Not as Kal-El.
Not as the boy he had once been.
But as the Superman this world needed.
And maybe—just maybe—one day, that would be enough to atone for the sin of surviving.
---