Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1525 Apprentice Hero Becomes Hero

The target is the core node that was briefly exposed due to the imbalance!

The sword transformed into pure light!
A beam of judgment, imbued with icy will and nascent brute force, tearing through the darkness!

The air was cleaved apart at high speed, producing a sharp, explosive sound like a train whistle!
The space in front of the sword's edge even produced a subtle visual distortion!
The rapidly expanding, destructive light was reflected in the compound eyes of that parasitic beast.

All its tendons were twitching wildly, trying to drive the bone blade back to defend, but the injured leg severely hampered its coordination and speed.

The cold light in its eyes flickered violently, like an overloaded circuit, until only a pure, absolute blankness remained before the collapse of a highly efficient killing machine program in the face of an irresistible end.

laugh!
There was no earth-shattering roar. Only a faint, yet deeply penetrating, muffled sound, like a sharp object piercing tough leather.

Time seems to have frozen.

The gleaming silver sword tip pierced through the tiny gap in the parasitic beast's cross-stranded muscle tendons with unparalleled precision, penetrating the exceptionally tough bio-armor behind it and sinking deep into its most crucial node!
The sensation from the sword's edge was first a tough resistance, then a slight vibration as if some dense crystalline structure were shattering, and finally a stagnant feeling as it pierced into a viscous, highly compressed energy core.

The parasite's entire body froze in an instant.

The flashing light in his eyes went out suddenly, like a light bulb that had lost power, turning into two lifeless, inorganic gray shadows.

The bone blade, raised high, froze in mid-air before falling limply to the ground with a heavy thud.

Driven by a pure will to kill, its body, like a building block stripped of all its support, crashed forward, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Hachiman stood quietly, maintaining his forward-pointing rapier stance.

Most of the sword was submerged in the fallen body of the parasitic beast, with only the hilt and a small section of the blood-stained blade exposed to the murky air.

A viscous, dark green fluid with a faint glow was slowly and heavily dripping down the blood groove on the sword into the muddy ground mixed with dust and blood.

tick tock... tick tock...

The sound, clear as the lingering echo of a death knell, echoed in the deathly silence of the ruins after the battle's roar had abruptly ceased.

Hachiman slowly, extremely slowly, withdrew his longsword.

As the sword detached from the parasitic beast's body, it emitted an unpleasant, sticky, frictional sound.

He lowered his arm, the tip of his sword pointing diagonally at the ground. A mixture of dark green and dark red liquid gathered along the cold blade to the tip, stretched, and finally dripped heavily.

He looked down at his newborn hands, which seemed to glow faintly in the darkness.

The wound on the tiger's mouth had stopped bleeding thanks to the powerful regenerative ability, leaving only a red mark that was fading rapidly.

The surging torrent of power within him did not subside; instead, it roared even more clearly after its intense release, washing over every inch of his newborn flesh and nerves.

His five senses remained terrifyingly sharp—he could "hear" the crackling sound of flames licking at the wreckage in the distance, "smell" the lingering embers deep within the ruins, and even "feel" the dull echoes of the city's destruction emanating from the depths of the earth beneath his feet.

This power... fiery, surging, unfamiliar... carries a cold, bone-deep allure.

It promised survival, promised power, yet whispered the possibility of mutation at every cellular level—a possibility powerful enough to utterly crush and reshape the being known as "Hachiman Hikigaya." He slowly raised his head, his neck bones clicking slightly, his gaze passing over the rapidly cooling, stiffening remains of the parasitic beast beneath his feet, and landing on the vast, grotesque darkness beyond the ruins, shrouded in crimson flames and thick smoke. From the depths of that darkness, faintly emanated more inhuman roars and the groans of buildings.

"Xiaoqi!"

The sound pierced through the crackling of the flames and the hum of the ruins, carrying a tremor that was forcibly suppressed yet could not be completely concealed, and stabbed into his exceptionally keen hearing.

It's the mother.

And then came his father's suppressed, heavy breathing. He could "hear" their rapid heartbeats, and "smell" the lingering scent of detergent from the house, now overwhelmed by intense fear and smoke. Their worries, like invisible needles, pierced his numb, overstretched shell, causing a sharp, stinging pain.

Hachiman Hikigaya turned around.

His movements were somewhat stiff, as if the body, infused with power, had not yet been fully tamed.

He subconsciously tried to twitch the corners of his mouth, attempting to force out that signature expression of his past—a self-deprecating and aloof one that could at least offer them some reassurance. However, his facial muscles remained frozen, like solidified stone.

He could clearly feel the coldness and calmness on his face at that moment—it wasn't a mask of any emotion he was familiar with, but rather a kind of emptiness, a near-nothingness left behind after being washed away by inhuman forces.

"I'm fine." He paused slightly as he spoke. His tone was steady, completely calm, even overly clear. This calmness itself, in the current situation, became the most unusual thing.

The father stepped forward, his cloudy gaze fixed on his face, then swept his eyes with surprise over his clothes stained with dark dirt and the blood-dripping sword in his hand, finally settling on his hand, which had just healed and was incredibly smooth.

"On your body..."

The father's voice was dry, like sandpaper rubbing against something. "What exactly happened?" He reached out, as if to touch his son's arm, but then suddenly pulled back halfway, as if Hachiman was radiating some kind of invisible, frightening heat.

Hachiman's throat bobbed.

What should he say? As someone who seeks the "real thing," he instinctively abhors any form of deception.

But the truth is...

"……do not know."

These three words were squeezed out of his mouth with difficulty. It was the truth, yet also the biggest lie. He didn't know how to describe or explain this utterly absurd thing that transcended all his previous cognitive frameworks.

This is not a typical awakening of supernatural abilities; there is no flame or frost surging from the body; nor is it the work of a spiritual being who communicates with the heavens and the earth.

This is... being selected.

A selection that occurred without warning, without any choice, and without any warmth.

This is just like those poorly made video games. Fight monsters, level up, heal, allocate stat points. Simple, direct, brutal.

But this is not the safe area behind the screen.

The monster's blood remaining on the hilt of the sword in his hand was thick and cold, emitting a real stench; the crackling sound of flames licking objects in the ruins was scorching hot; every wrinkle on his parents' faces, deepened by fear and worry, was clearly glaring.

(End of this chapter)