Kal-El's first breath on Earth was not under a yellow sun, but beneath layers of reinforced steel and sterile light. His pod, meant for the Kansas plains, was intercepted before impact. The U.S. government—afraid, fractured, and militarized—confiscated the alien craft and its infant passenger. They labeled him not as hope, but as a weapon. Project: Prism.
He grew up in isolation. No Ma and Pa Kent. No Smallville sunsets. Only scalpels, suppression fields, and the unrelenting chill of a world too afraid to love him. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He waited.
---
Meanwhile, across the world, the unholy war between the Amazons and Atlanteans consumed continents. Sparked by betrayal, vengeance, and ancient wrath, Europe was split in half by tidal waves and scorched by divine flames. Wonder Woman led her armies with cold efficiency, while Aquaman's undersea forces unleashed biomechanical horrors.
And all of it—every broken treaty, every crumbled city—could be traced back to one man: Barry Allen.
In trying to save his mother from death, Barry shattered time. The ripple effect created a world that spiraled into chaos. Heroes never assembled. Love turned to war. Superman never became a symbol. And Barry… Barry forgot who he once was.
Until he remembered.
Rebuilding his speed with the help of Thomas Wayne—the Batman of this timeline—Barry raced to undo his sins. He found Kal-El, hidden beneath Metropolis, and unleashed him with Cyborg's help. The boy, pale and thin, barely a wisp of power, met Barry's eyes—and something clicked.
Barry gave him more than freedom. He gave him memories. Using the Speed Force, Barry transferred echoes of alternate timelines into Kal-El's mind. Versions of Superman who smiled, flew, protected, belonged. Each memory planted a seed.
Kal-El flew. Slowly at first. Clumsily. But he flew.
---
After their escape, Barry battled Reverse-Flash, who taunted him with the truth: "You broke it, Barry. This is your world now." As Thawne battered him, Barry realized the full scope of his mistake. Tears in his eyes, he turned to Kal-El.
And Kal nodded. He understood. Not through words, but through hope. He would finish this.
Kal-El, guided by the Speed Force echo Barry had awakened in him, flew toward the stars. Far beyond Earth's orbit, he found a derelict Kryptonian solar collector. He redirected its fusion core into the heart of a dying blue star.
And then, he waited. Again.
For one hundred years, Kal-El bathed in the blinding radiance of the blue star. Each second rebuilt him. Each moment saturated his cells with unimaginable power. The radiation didn't just charge him—it unlocked him. Strength beyond anything his variants had known. Senses beyond mortal comprehension. He heard time. He saw possibilities. And with that clarity, he saw the path.
He would enter the Speed Force.
Not as a speedster, but as a constant. A cosmic necessity. Hope incarnate.
He focused. Remembered Barry's gift. The Speed Force shimmered before him—not as a gate, but as a friend.
And Kal-El stepped in.
---
The Speed Force welcomed him.
For most, it was a storm. For him, it was home. He traveled corridors of light and memory, reliving lives he never lived. Worlds he never touched. People he never saved. He wept—for their loss, for their love, for his duty.
At a crossroads in the Speed Force, he found him: Thomas Wayne.
The older Batman stood in shadows, his eyes tired. He recognized Kal instantly—not because of memory, but because of purpose.
"You're not supposed to be here," Thomas said.
"Neither are you," Kal responded.
Thomas smirked. "Yet here we are."
Kal stepped forward. "I need your help. Not for me. For your son. For everyone. I'm going to undo what Barry started—but this time, right."
Thomas nodded. "Then make me a promise. Put it back. All of it."
Kal-El's eyes glowed with solar fire. "I promise."
They parted. One to oblivion. One to destiny.
---
Kal-El focused all his power. He was now more than Kryptonian. The Speed Force pulsed through him. He reversed the polarity of his temporal presence—something no being had ever done. Instead of riding the flow, he became the flow.
Reality folded around him. The fractured timeline unwound.
Atlantis and Themyscira signed peace accords.
Bruce Wayne's parents died in Crime Alley, restoring the Batman of Earth-0.
Clark Kent's pod crash-landed in Kansas, found by the Kents.
The Justice League was born again.
And finally, Kal-El directed himself to the critical moment—when Barry Allen from the restored timeline came to stop his younger self from saving his mother.
Kal-El stood in that frozen moment, unseen, between seconds.
He whispered: "Let this be the last time."
Barry succeeded. The paradox closed.
Time reasserted itself.
---
In the afterglow, Barry stumbled into a restored world. Gotham dark, but safe. Metropolis gleaming. Heroes flying overhead. He smiled—then paused.
Who had helped him?
The thought vanished like mist in the morning sun.
He forgot.
---
Kal-El floated above the Earth, unseen, unfelt.
Then, the sky cracked open.
The Spectre descended.
"Kal-El," the spirit thundered. "You have tampered with the divine thread. You, who erased your own existence, now stand outside time. You are not meant to be."
Kal-El bowed his head. "But I am what was needed."
The Spectre raised a hand. Judgment passed.
Kal-El was cast into the Negative Speed Force.
A prison. A purgatory. A place of entropy and rage.
Here, time forgot him. Here, echoes of twisted Supermen mocked him. But he stood tall. Alone, but not afraid.
Because even here, he burned with light.
---
And in the shadowed walls between dimensions, Doctor Manhattan observed.
"A being who defied his role," he said. "A being of hope."
He extended a hand.
And rewrote the world again.
The New 52 was born.
Streamlined. Shiny. Empty.
Kal-El—the one who made it possible—was forgotten.
The world never knew what it lost.
Only that it survived.
---
End of Chapter One