Victor had little interest in Clark's proposal.
His priorities were simple. Protect his family, keep them safe, and live his life on his own terms. Becoming a superhero like Clark—running around saving strangers, constantly dealing with misunderstandings, suspicion, and the occasional wave of moral grandstanding from the public—held no appeal for him whatsoever.
"And besides," Victor added calmly, "you've never really liked the way I handle things."
He rose slowly from the reclining chair and glanced toward Clark.
"If we actually created a vigilante group together, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't take long before you tried to stop me from doing something. And then the two of us would end up fighting each other."
Victor stepped forward and lightly patted Clark on the shoulder.
"I don't want Mom and Dad worrying because they see their sons going at each other."
He gave a small shrug.
"So… let's just skip that idea."
Clark stood there holding his coffee mug, silent for a moment.
His younger brother had stormed a military base to save him. Yet during the escape, Clark had repeatedly tried to stop Victor from hurting the soldiers who fired at them. He had urged him to leave quickly instead of fighting, hoping to avoid more deaths.
Had he pushed things too far?
Clark wasn't sure.
"Do you remember Lex Luthor?" Victor suddenly asked.
"Of course."
Clark looked up, puzzled by the sudden change in topic.
He had saved Lex's life once. If Lex hadn't given him that pickup truck afterward, Clark might not have discovered the truth about his origins nearly as quickly.
"Lex hasn't shown up around town lately," Clark continued thoughtfully. "His father, Lionel Luthor, was in a car accident not long ago. Lex had to take over the company, so he's probably dealing with the shock and trying to keep the corporation running."
His expression carried a hint of sympathy.
"I'm not asking about what's in the newspapers."
Victor shook his head slightly.
Something about Lex's situation yesterday had felt strange. The more he thought about it, the harder it was to ignore.
Lex was undeniably a technological genius. The armor he had built before was already powerful enough to threaten almost anyone who wasn't Superman.
But yesterday's machine—the bionic robot—had been different.
It had been frighteningly realistic.
Its movements, structure, and design were far beyond what current civilian technology should be capable of producing. For someone Lex's age, building something like that should have been impossible.
"After everything ended last night, I had time to think about what happened," Victor said calmly.
He looked directly at Clark.
"You should realize by now that yesterday was a trap."
Victor explained what he had observed during the confrontation.
"I ran into Lex at the military base yesterday. I suspect he's the one who orchestrated the entire plan. He used the passengers on that train as bait to lure you into the trap."
Clark frowned as he replayed the events in his mind.
"The voice I heard yesterday sounded familiar," he said slowly. "It was distorted by the speakers, but thinking back on it now… it did sound a lot like Lex."
After comparing the memory in his head, Clark was essentially certain.
There had been nearly a thousand passengers on that train.
The idea that someone would risk so many innocent lives was almost impossible to believe.
And the person he suspected was someone whose life he had personally saved.
That realization left a sour weight in his chest.
"But it doesn't seem like he was physically present at the base yesterday," Clark added after a moment.
There had been no heartbeat.
No blood circulation.
Nothing that indicated a living body.
"It wasn't a person," Clark concluded quietly. "It was a robot."
Victor nodded.
"Exactly."
"A robot?"
Clark stared at him.
"Victor… what do you want me to do?"
He could already guess his brother had something in mind.
"Keep an eye on Lex," Victor replied calmly. "Yesterday I promised him he'd spend the rest of his life hiding in the shadows like something crawling through a sewer."
Victor paused briefly before continuing.
"But right now, I have more important things to deal with than watching him."
Clark listened carefully.
"If he ever appears publicly in that robotic body again," Victor said flatly, "destroy it."
Clark normally wouldn't act recklessly.
But Victor knew Lex wouldn't have the courage to show that machine in public again anytime soon.
"No problem."
Clark answered almost immediately.
For some reason, the fact that his younger brother was actually asking him for help made him strangely happy.
"But… thinking about it, this whole situation still started because of me."
His shoulders slumped slightly.
If it was just a robot, Clark wouldn't feel guilty destroying it. But he still intended to find out whether Lex had personally planted that bomb or ordered someone else to do it.
"When I find proof," Clark said firmly, clenching his fists, "I won't just watch him. I'll personally make sure Lex Luthor ends up in prison."
"That man is extremely cunning."
Victor shook his head.
"You might not find the evidence so easily."
His tone carried little optimism.
"Especially if the military was involved in the operation."
Clark fell silent.
He wasn't an innocent child anymore. He understood how complicated things became once politics and government institutions entered the picture.
The judge who handed down sentences was still part of the enormous machine called the federal government.
"Speaking of the military…"
Victor murmured quietly to himself.
"Before I leave on my trip, there's someone I need to visit."
Promethium—an adaptable metal capable of granting superhuman abilities.
Victor glanced briefly toward the inside of the house, a faint glint flashing through his eyes.
"Who?" Clark asked.
…
United States–Mexico border.
Beside a quiet lake stood a five-story modern villa. The structure resembled a massive white dish rising from the ground, its sleek curves giving the entire building a streamlined and futuristic appearance.
"Everything's normal in the southeast A4 sector."
A black-clad security guard patrolled the forest surrounding the lake with a trained hound. As he moved through the trees, he spoke calmly into the small headset clipped to his collar.
"Sector B14 is clear."
The level of security surrounding the villa exceeded even that of some national leaders.
Because the owner of this lakeside estate was one of the richest men in the world.
Steve Dayton.
A famous industrial tycoon, Dayton controlled a vast conglomerate involved in military manufacturing, medical technology, automobiles, aerospace rockets, and numerous other industries. His factories and subsidiaries were scattered across the globe.
Deep inside the laboratory beneath the villa, Steve Dayton looked like a man who hadn't slept in days.
His hair was tangled like a bird's nest. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his once sharp and handsome features looked worn and hollow.
The image was nothing like the energetic businessman who frequently appeared on magazine covers and television interviews.
Yet despite his exhaustion, his eyes were burning with excitement.
"It's finished… my masterpiece."
After completing the final solder joint, Steve removed the magnifying eyepiece from his face.
His gaze fell upon the helmet resting on the workbench as if he were staring at the most valuable treasure in the world.
The object looked like an ordinary silver ski helmet made from titanium alloy.
But only Steve Dayton truly understood what kind of technology was hidden inside it.
It involved one of the most mysterious domains of humanity.
The brain.
The mind.
"As long as someone wears it," Steve muttered excitedly, "their brain functions will be enhanced. Their mental energy will increase dramatically. Telepathy… even mental control will become possible."
Years of relentless research had finally produced results.
His mouth suddenly felt dry.
Steve grabbed a nearby glass of water and gulped it down quickly before wiping his lips and reaching for the helmet.
He was about to try it on himself.
"Steve Dayton."
A young voice suddenly echoed through the laboratory.
Calm. Magnetic.
"Not only do you have a brilliant business mind, but you're also an impressive inventor."
The voice paused slightly.
"But don't you think testing something like that on yourself is a little reckless?"
Steve's entire body trembled.
Like a startled rabbit, he spun around instantly.
Leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed stood a young man, watching him with relaxed interest.
It looked as though the man had simply wandered into a convenience store rather than infiltrating a secret underground laboratory that had cost hundreds of millions of dollars to construct.
Purple energy flowed across his body like the surface of a glowing star.
The entire figure resembled a human-shaped celestial body radiating deep violet light.
"The Purple Light Man?"
Steve's pupils shrank.
With an outsider suddenly inside his laboratory, panic surged through him. He quickly grabbed the helmet from the table and jammed it onto his head.
Pressing the activation button, faint red light began glowing through the seams of the device.
Steve exhaled slowly.
Confidence returned to his face as a thin smile appeared.
"I didn't bring Superman here," he said carefully. "So why did you come looking for me?"
"You know who I am?"
Victor didn't seem particularly concerned about the nickname "Purple Light Man." He hadn't planned to debut as a superhero anyway.
The title meant nothing to him.
"I only appeared in public yesterday," Victor said calmly. "Yet you already recognize me. It seems you've always had an interest in supernatural phenomena."
His eyes drifted toward the helmet resting on Steve's head.
"Of course."
Steve's palms were sweating.
But he forced himself to keep smiling.
Quietly, he began activating the helmet's amplified mental power, trying to read Victor's thoughts.
The monster standing before him had single-handedly broken into a military base and destroyed the terrifying Zero Armor.
If Victor intended to harm him, Steve needed an advantage.
But after straining with all his effort, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His face twisted with concentration, yet he couldn't detect a single thought.
"Did my mental amplification helmet fail?"
Steve stared in disbelief.
"Impossible!"
"I assure you, there's nothing wrong with your helmet."
Victor's voice remained casual.
"It's just far too weak."
His simple remark immediately darkened Steve Dayton's face.
....
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