Beep—!
Locke, stone-faced, jabbed the remote with lightning speed, switching channels in a flash!
The screen flipped to a roaring, action-packed football game.
The deafening cheers and hyped-up commentary instantly filled the space that had just been weighed down by a heavy declaration.
"Man, who'd have thought your Uncle Lionel was cooking up such a 'grand' project behind the scenes," Locke said, his voice sliding back to its usual casual tone, maybe a bit too deliberately light. He raised his juice glass like nothing had happened. "Come on, let's toast to your Uncle Lionel's… uh, big dreams!"
His suggestion felt a little out of left field.
"Cheers," Clark and Dio echoed, instinctively raising their glasses.
The three glasses clinked softly in the air, a crisp, pleasant sound.
"Dad," Dio drawled, setting his glass down slowly, his red eyes flicking to Locke's shirt. He smirked. "You tilted your juice glass."
Locke glanced down and, sure enough, a small wet spot had spread across his chest from the glass's rim.
He wiped it off casually, his face betraying nothing, though he shot Dio a mock-annoyed glare before turning his attention to the TV. The football announcer was practically screaming, voice cracking with excitement:
"…My God! Look at that charge! An insane 40-yard sprint! It's like a bolt of lightning ripping through the defense! That speed! That power! Folks, this is straight-up alien-on-the-field-level unreal!"
"Can you believe this guy was declared permanently disabled by Metropolis General a year ago? Folks!"
"Hey, not a bad charge," Locke chuckled, clearly amused.
"…"
Clark and Dio exchanged a glance, neither saying a word.
But both could sense Locke's quiet melancholy.
And why wouldn't he feel that way? One of his few friends had barely been in touch. For their friendless dad—or uncle, in Clark's case—that was a real blow.
After all, their big-shot Uncle Lionel had been "busy" for a full four years.
He'd been holed up in the Africa-Asia region, never once visiting the farm, and even his calls had dwindled.
The only contact was during holidays, when Ms. Grey would deliver gifts on his behalf.
And according to Ms. Grey's miserable complaints at last year's Christmas party, her job had gone from assistant to glorified gift-delivery courier.
Talk about a demotion.
The once-friendly Uncle Lionel seemed to grow more and more distant in their eyes.
---
The afternoon sun dipped low, turning the forest's crisp light into a rich, honeyed glow. It filtered through layers of leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground.
Completely unaware that his family was anxiously waiting for him to come home for dinner, Saraphiel stood on a path blanketed with soft pine needles, their earthy, resinous scent filling the air. He was surrounded by a pack of overly enthusiastic furry creatures, unable to take a single step.
He was trapped in a sweet but helpless "circle of fluff."
A snow fox tugged gently at the hem of his robe with its snout. A deer nuzzled his palm with its wet nose. Even the usually timid rabbit stood on its hind legs, pawing at his pant leg.
"Guys," Saraphiel sighed, crouching down to meet their eyes.
He reached out, gently petting each furry head one by one.
"It's the middle of the day. I gotta get home for dinner," he said, his voice clear and open to negotiation. "How about you go find your own lunch, okay?"
"Awoo~"
The lead snow fox let out a pitiful whine, shaking its head like a rattled tambourine.
The other animals, as if catching the word "home," erupted into a chorus of anxious whimpers.
Saraphiel tilted his head, curious and a bit puzzled, watching them for a moment before finally asking, "What're you trying to say? Just spit it out!"
"…"
The forest went dead silent.
Every furry head froze, staring at him with big, round eyes, as if silently screaming: How are we supposed to talk?!
"Alright, fine," Saraphiel said, dusting off his knees as he stood. "If you've got nothing to say, I'm—"
"Awoo!"
An old gray wolf, which had been quietly watching, lunged forward with surprising agility, wrapping its paws around his leg.
A brown bear nearby let out a thud as it flopped onto the narrow path, blocking it completely with its massive body. It even rolled over, exposing its soft belly.
"Hey!" Saraphiel finally cracked a laugh. "What's gotten into you guys today?"
His sudden laughter startled the animals, who shuffled back half a step. But seeing the warm smile on his face, they surged forward again, crowding even closer than before.
The elegant deer trotted off briefly, returning with a cluster of dew-kissed, vibrant red raspberries. It carefully, almost pleadingly, placed them on the muddy toe of his shoe.
"Hm," Saraphiel said, eyeing the endless "tribute parade." He asked, "You want me to stay?"
The furry heads nodded furiously.
"But…" Saraphiel frowned, troubled. "My dad's waiting for me to eat dinner…"
"Awoo~" "Squeak squeak!" "Coo!" "Quack!"
The animals shook their heads in unison, so vigorously you'd worry they'd knock themselves out.
Silently apologizing to his dad in his heart, Saraphiel looked at the stubborn, adorable creatures and gave in. "Fine… I'll stay till sunset. But no later, okay?"
The animals exchanged glances, like they were passing some secret message.
Then, in perfect sync, they nodded.
The clever snow fox stood on its hind legs, mimicking a human by pressing its front paws together in a solemn "prayer" gesture toward Saraphiel.
The others caught on, copying the move!
In an instant, the clearing was filled with bowing furballs.
The hulking bear clumsily pressed its paws together, the deer dipped its head gracefully, the squirrels stood tall on their tiny bodies, the rabbits propped up their front paws, and even the chubby raccoon managed a decent attempt. The scene was both epic and hilariously adorable.
A hundred beasts paying homage!
But to five-year-old Saraphiel, it was just the animals' heartfelt thanks.
"Alright, alright," he said, plopping down cross-legged. He wagged a finger at the snow fox, which had cozied up first. "But Clark said I can't just eat whatever you guys give me—"
The fox's ears drooped, its golden-brown eyes welling up with tears.
"…Just a little bit," Saraphiel relented, then suddenly pointed sharply. "You over there! Put that fish back in the stream!"
The bear clutching a bass froze, sheepishly scratching its head before slinking off to the creek.
With that lesson learned, the other animals fell into line, forming an orderly queue.
Fresh mushrooms, plump berries, glossy pine nuts, even a small, sweet-smelling chunk of pristine honeycomb…
The forest's gifts piled up carefully in front of Saraphiel, soon forming a small hill that radiated nature's essence.
"Sorry, Clark," the little guy muttered toward the farm, reaching for a glossy red raspberry from the top of the pile. He popped it into his mouth, biting gently.
Sweet juice burst on his tongue, carrying the taste of sunlight and forest.
"Not bad~"
Time slipped by.
The sunset painted the treetops gold and red, and the forest grew quiet.
Saraphiel was sharing pine nuts with a shy chipmunk when he noticed all the animals perk up their ears.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Awoo!"
Before he could react, the old wolf staggered into the clearing, a dark red trail from a wound on its paw staining the dirt.
Saraphiel instinctively summoned a glowing orb to heal it, but the animals erupted into chaos. Squirrels yanked at his sleeve, deer nudged his back with their antlers.
"Wait… what's going—"
Crack!
Thirty meters away, a spruce tree snapped in half.
As the canopy crashed down, Saraphiel finally saw it.
A mechanical monster, straight out of a TV screen, emerged silently.
A glowing green stone was embedded in its chest, sharp metal spikes jutting from its joints.
And the worst part?
Its featureless head, with nothing but a spinning, blood-red scanning beam! It emitted a halting mechanical voice:
"K—"
"Target. Locked."
"Revenge."