Chapitre 3: Chapter 3
A/N:my bad for not updating I've been having a hard time in college but I'm back.Enjoy the chapter more will come every week
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Kade turned a corner and found himself in an alley. His breathing was shallow, and his hands were shaking. His heart pounded like a drum, each beat vibrating through his entire body. It wasn't just the city—it was him. Something had changed. Something was wrong with him.
He leaned against the wall, trying to calm down. But the moment his shoulder touched the brick, the wall cracked under the pressure, chunks of stone falling to the ground.
Kade stared in horror, backing away. "No... no, no, no..."
As his fear grew, so did the tension in his body. His eyes burned suddenly, a searing heat rising from his skull. Before he could even think, red beams of energy shot from his eyes, scorching the pavement in front of him. He yelled in shock, covering his face with his hands.
The beams stopped, but the damage was done. The ground was charred, a deep black line cutting through the concrete.
"I need to get out of here," he muttered, running now, desperate to get away.
He found himself at the edge of the rooftop, staring out at the skyline of New York. Without thinking, Kade leaped. For a second, time seemed to slow as he was suspended in midair, the ground below him far away. His stomach flipped, and he braced for the fall—but it never came.
Instead, he floated there, hovering above the city, his heart pounding in his chest.
"No way," he breathed, glancing down at his feet. He was flying. "I... I'm flying?"
The joy of that realization was short-lived as his body wobbled unsteadily in the air. He tried to control it, to stay still, but he found himself spinning, his legs kicking out wildly as he careened across the sky.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kade shouted, flailing as he plummeted back toward the earth.
He crashed through a rooftop, slamming into the ground with a thud that shook the building. Groaning, he pulled himself out of the debris, feeling dazed but otherwise unhurt.
"Okay... I guess that's something I need to work on," he muttered, wincing as he brushed the dust off his clothes.
Just as he was about to get back to his feet, his ears caught something—something different from the overwhelming noise of the city. A single voice, faint and trembling.
"Help... somebody help me..."
Kade froze, his senses locking onto the sound. His heart skipped a beat. It was someone in trouble.
He didn't think. His body moved on instinct, leaping into the air once again. This time, he managed to stay aloft, soaring over the buildings as he followed the desperate cries for help.
When he landed in the alley where the voice had come from, he saw the scene unfold. A man—a thug, judging by his sneer and the switchblade in his hand—was holding a woman against the wall. She looked terrified, tears streaming down her face.
"Please... just take my purse!" she begged.
The thug sneered, holding the knife to her throat. "Oh, I'm gonna take more than that, sweetheart."
Kade's blood boiled. His fists clenched at his sides as the heat in his eyes flared again, but he fought to keep it under control. The real Superman would know what to do. He would handle this with grace, with precision.
Kade, however, wasn't Superman.
"Hey!" he shouted, stepping forward.
The thug turned, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Kade. "Who the hell are you, kid? Get lost before I—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Kade was moving. He closed the distance in a split second, his fist slamming into the thug's chest with all the force he could muster.
There was a sickening crack as the man's body was launched backward, slamming into the brick wall behind him. The impact left a spiderweb of cracks in the wall, and the thug crumpled to the ground, his limbs splayed out at awkward angles.
Kade froze, his heart pounding in his ears. He had barely touched the guy—or at least, it had felt like it. But the man wasn't moving.
He walked over, his legs shaking as he approached the thug's limp form. The man's eyes were half-open, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, pooling on the ground beneath him.
"Oh my God..." Kade whispered, his stomach turning.
He knelt down, his hands trembling as he reached out to check the man's pulse. The guy was alive, but barely. His body was broken, his bones shattered from the force of the punch.
"I... I didn't mean to... I didn't..."
Panic surged through him. He didn't know what to do. This was supposed to be easy—he was supposed to stop the bad guy, save the day. But now... now this man was dying, and it was his fault.
Without thinking, Kade scooped the man up into his arms. His muscles flexed effortlessly as he took to the sky, his heart racing as he scanned the city below. He had to find help—he had to get this guy to a hospital, fast.
Navigating New York from the sky was harder than he thought. This wasn't his New York; the streets were different, the landmarks unfamiliar. But eventually, he spotted the unmistakable red cross of a hospital in the distance.
He landed clumsily in front of the emergency room entrance, stumbling as he carried the man inside. The nurses and doctors froze as they saw him—a kid, barely out of high school, carrying a man who looked like he'd been hit by a freight train.
"Help him!" Kade shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, he's hurt!"
The medical staff sprang into action, rushing over with a stretcher as they took the man from Kade's arms. The thug was pale, his breathing labored as they wheeled him into the ER.
Kade stood there, watching as the doors closed behind them. His hands were still shaking, his heart hammering in his chest.
He had done this. He had hurt that man—maybe even killed him.
The minutes dragged on like hours as he stood in the waiting room, his mind racing with guilt and fear. He didn't know how long he stood there before a nurse finally came out.
"He's alive," she said softly, her expression somber. "But... he's paralyzed. From the neck down. He'll never walk again."
Kade felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. The world spun around him as the weight of her words sank in. He had saved that woman's life—but at what cost?
The nurse was still talking, but Kade couldn't hear her. He turned and stumbled out of the hospital, his mind a blur.
Once he was outside, he flew—far, far away from the hospital, away from the scene of his failure. He landed on a rooftop, collapsing onto his knees as the tears came. He pressed his hands to his face, feeling the burning heat of shame and guilt rise in his chest.
The real Superman wouldn't have done this. He would've handled it with grace, with control. But Kade... Kade had let his anger, his fear, take over. He had hurt someone, possibly ruined their life.
He sat there for what felt like hours, his mind replaying the moment over and over again. The look on the thug's face as he flew into the wall. The sound of bones breaking. The sight of blood on the ground.
"I can't do this," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm not Superman."
But as the tears dried, and the guilt settled into a cold, hard knot in his chest, he realized something. He had these powers now, whether he liked it or not. And if he didn't learn to control them, more people would get hurt.
Superman wouldn't give up. He'd find a way to control his strength, to master his powers. And if Kade wanted to be anything like the hero he admired, he had to start now.
He stood up, his fists clenched at his sides. He wasn't going to let this happen again. He wasn't going to be the reason someone else got hurt.
Control. That's what he needed.
And he was going to get it. One way or another.
Kade stood up from the rooftop where he had been sitting for the past few hours, reflecting on the mess he'd caused earlier. The memory of the thug's limp body still weighed heavily on him, but there was no room for more accidents. He needed to get a handle on his powers. Right now, he was dangerous. Too dangerous.
But how do you learn to control the strength of Superman when you've only had these powers for less than a day?
He took a deep breath. "One step at a time, I guess," he muttered to himself.
He needed a plan. Superman didn't just wake up one day fully in control of everything. Clark Kent had grown up with these powers, figuring them out over years, learning to balance his strength, senses, and emotions. Kade didn't have that luxury. He was thrown into this world, 17 again, with the weight of these god-like abilities. He had to figure out how to be *Superman*—and fast.
First thing's first: getting started. He realized he didn't even have a wallet on him, no cash, no ID. Not that it would help—he wasn't even sure if his name existed in this universe. The clothes on his back were torn and scorched, a mess after everything he'd been through.
He needed supplies, though. Groceries. Eggs.
"Damn. Where am I supposed to get money?"
Kade glanced down at the street below, biting his lip. People in New York City were constantly on the move, and he spotted what he was looking for: a cab pulling up to the curb, with the driver stepping out to stretch his legs. Kade didn't feel great about what he was about to do, but he didn't see any other option.
Before he could second-guess himself, he blurred into motion, feeling his legs tense with super-speed. In a split second, he was next to the cab, his hand darting into the cup holder. He grabbed a few crumpled bills and some loose change, then zipped back up to the rooftop, heart pounding.
"Not proud of that one," he muttered, counting the money. "But I'll make it up later."
The stolen money would cover the basics for now. He decided to head to a small, run-down bodega on the corner of the block. Places like that didn't ask too many questions, and if the owner recognized him, he could probably play it off as some lost tourist.
Kade walked in, the bell above the door jingling. The old man behind the counter glanced at him briefly, uninterested in the bedraggled kid with wild hair.
Kade grabbed three cartons of eggs, more than enough for what he needed. After a brief, awkward moment paying with a handful of wrinkled bills and coins, he left the store and made his way to an abandoned warehouse he'd scouted earlier. It was quiet, out of the way, and no one would hear him if things went wrong.
He set the cartons on a dusty table and stared at them.
"Alright, Kade. Time to work on that strength."
He cracked his knuckles, took out one egg, and carefully cradled it between his fingers. His entire focus was on not crushing the fragile shell, reminding himself to use the lightest touch possible.
But even the slightest pressure was too much. The egg shattered instantly, yellow yolk running down his hand.
Kade groaned. "Great start."
He wiped his hands on his shirt and tried again. This time, he cupped the egg more delicately. But again, he applied too much pressure and *crack*—another failure.
For hours, he practiced with the eggs, failing over and over. The frustration was mounting. Every time he thought he had it, a slip in concentration would cause another egg to burst in his hands. But each failure taught him something—how to control his fingers, how to ease up on his grip, how to keep his focus even when he was getting frustrated.
Finally, after going through almost an entire carton, Kade gingerly picked up one more egg. He held his breath, staring at it. His hand stayed steady. He wasn't crushing it. For the first time, the egg stayed intact.
Kade smiled, placing the egg back on the table. "Finally."
One problem down. But strength wasn't just about holding back—he had to figure out how to use it in a fight, too. There was a metal pillar in the corner of the warehouse, a remnant of whatever the building used to be. It was solid, thick enough that most normal people wouldn't be able to make a dent in it. But Kade wasn't normal anymore.
He stood in front of it, balling his hand into a fist.
"Alright, just a soft punch. Don't crush it."
He pulled his arm back and swung, aiming to strike the pillar lightly. But as soon as his fist made contact, the pillar crunched inward with a sickening screech, bending like a paper straw.
"Not soft enough," Kade muttered, stepping back and shaking out his hand.
He tried again, moving to another pillar, but his second attempt didn't go much better. This time, his fist punched clean through the metal, leaving a gaping hole. The third pillar? Collapsed after what he thought was a "light" punch.
"Come on," he muttered, clearly frustrated. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to hit harder. "Control. It's about control."
The next pillar didn't crumple as much. When he pulled his hand back, there was a dent, but it wasn't completely destroyed. It wasn't perfect, but it was a step in the right direction.
"Progress," Kade said to himself with a half-smile.
It was time to work on something even more difficult: his hearing. Ever since he'd arrived in this world, the constant barrage of sounds had been overwhelming. He could hear *everything*—the honking of cars, the conversations on the street, the buzz of electrical wires, and even heartbeats from the people nearby. It was like trying to focus on one person in a stadium full of shouting fans. He needed to narrow it down, to isolate one sound, like Clark did in *Man of Steel*.
He remembered how Clark's mother had helped him focus by having him listen to just her voice. But Kade didn't have anyone to help him here. He looked around the warehouse and saw a small bird perched in the rafters.
"Okay," he thought, "just focus on the bird."
He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to filter out the chaos. But as soon as he began, the world rushed in—the blaring of horns, the hum of machinery, and voices from blocks away all invaded his mind. Kade winced, rubbing his temples, struggling to block it all out.
"Just the bird. Come on," he muttered, trying again.
This time, he managed to focus for a few seconds. He could hear the soft chirping of the bird, faint but clear. But then the noise of the city came crashing back, overwhelming him again. He tried over and over, struggling to keep his concentration on that one sound.
After what felt like hours, he finally got the hang of it. The world fell away, and all he could hear was the bird's quiet song. He wasn't perfect yet, but he was getting better.
"Alright. Not bad," he said with a smile, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.
The last task was the hardest: heat vision. Kade had barely used it, but when he did, it was uncontrollable. He'd read enough comics to know that Superman could focus his heat vision to be as delicate as a surgeon's laser or as powerful as a burning furnace. But so far, Kade had only tapped into it when he was angry.
Flying out of the city was a challenge in itself. Kade was still bad at it—he wobbled in the air, bumping into a few rooftops before he gained altitude. Navigating New York wasn't easy; everything looked so different from what he remembered. Eventually, he made his way out to a secluded field miles outside the city. When he tried to land, he came down too fast and crashed, tumbling through the dirt.
"Great. Add landing to the list of things to work on," he muttered, brushing dirt off his pants.
He found some old glass bottles near an abandoned barn on the edge of the field. They were perfect for target practice. He lined them up and stepped back, focusing on controlling the heat vision. It was like controlling a gun—there was recoil, force, and danger, but he needed to remain calm.
Kade narrowed his eyes, feeling the familiar tingling sensation building up in his forehead. A beam of red light shot out, but it was too strong—the first bottle exploded into dust.
"Damn," he muttered. "Too much."
He tried again, calming himself. Instead of using anger to fuel his power, he let the heat vision come naturally. This time, the beam was smaller, more focused. One of the glass bottles heated up and cracked, but didn't shatter completely.
Kade grinned. "That's more like it."
He sat down in the field, looking up at the stars. The night sky was clearer than he'd ever seen it, each star burning brightly, some twinkling in the distance, others closer and more vivid. He could see galaxies beyond what any normal human could ever imagine. It was beautiful, overwhelming.
"Why me?" he whispered, lost in thought. Why out of billions of people had he been given this power? Was it because of the fire? Because he saved that boy? Was this some kind of cosmic reward—or punishment.Maybe he was dead or on the verge of death and this is a way of his brain to make him cope like when people see their last moments in life before they pass?
Kade shook his head. He didn't have the answers yet. But he was starting to feel more in control, and that was enough for now.
Tomorrow would be another day of learning, of struggling to understand what it meant to be Superman. But tonight, just for a moment, Kade let himself breathe.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone