The tension inside the dimly lit medical room was thick enough to cut with a blade. Scattered lights flickered above, casting fractured shadows over Bruce Wayne's battered form as he lay unconscious, his body wrapped in blood-stained bandages, his breathing shallow but steady—barely.
Every movement in the room was deliberate, cautious. The ragtag team of wounded heroes stood surrounding Bruce's hospital bed like knights guarding their fallen king. Each bore the weight of failure etched across their expressions, their wounds a grim testament to the unstoppable storm they were up against.
Clark Kent—Superman—was no longer the man they knew.
And the world was crumbling beneath his fury.
Diana Prince—Wonder Woman—broke the silence first, her voice calm but resolute. "Let me do it. I'll engage Clark directly."
Of the remaining fighters, Diana was the least injured, though bruises painted her arms and a faint line of dried blood traced her temple. But her Amazonian strength, combined with her battlefield instincts, made her the most capable among them now.
She stood tall, eyes sharp and unwavering. "If we don't buy time, we won't get a second chance."
Victor Stone—Cyborg—nodded without protest, his expression unreadable beneath the glowing red light on his cybernetic face. "I'll work on converting the kryptonite into a targeted weapon. I'll need time… and an opening."
"I'll fight with you," said Arthur Curry—Aquaman—his trident gleaming faintly as he tightened his grip. His tone was defiant, but the injury on his left arm betrayed the truth. A festering wound, still oozing black and crimson, pulsed where Clark's corrupted heat vision had scorched him. It refused to heal, a malignant reminder of the twisted power Clark now wielded.
Diana glanced at him, her brow furrowing in concern. "You need to rest, Arthur. That wound isn't closing. If you take another hit, you might not get up again."
"I said I can handle it!" Arthur struck the floor with his trident, sparks crackling from the impact as he stared her down. "Don't bench me."
But she saw it in his eyes—hesitation. Pain. Fear masked behind pride.
Before anyone could reply, the silence was shattered by a calm but commanding voice that did not belong to any of them.
"None of you. Let me do it."
Every muscle in the room tensed instantly.
"Who's there?!" Diana's hand reached instinctively for her sword.
Eyes darted toward the source of the voice, and jaws clenched as they spotted an unfamiliar figure standing beside Bruce's bed. A young man, dressed in black, was calmly peeling away Bruce's bandages with a small vial in his hand. The audacity of his presence was staggering—no one had even sensed his arrival.
Arthur didn't hesitate. With a sharp grunt, he hurled his trident toward the intruder like a missile.
BOOM—!
But before the weapon could hit its mark, the stranger raised a single hand. With seemingly no effort at all, he caught the trident mid-air, its force dissipating in his grip like a raindrop falling into the sea.
"What the hell?" Arthur muttered, eyes wide.
The room turned still. A strange chill ran down their spines.
Victor instinctively charged the cannon on his shoulder. Diana stepped forward, fists clenched, preparing to strike. Whoever this man was, he had moved in without being seen, disarmed Arthur effortlessly, and now stood over Bruce like a predator about to strike.
But the man didn't flinch. He sighed, almost in frustration, then tossed the trident back to Arthur—who caught it, stunned.
"Hey, easy," the stranger said, voice calm but firm. "If I wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't be wasting time with this."
He held up the vial for all to see. A glowing green liquid shimmered inside. "I'm not attacking Bruce. I'm healing him."
"What?" Diana said, her voice laced with suspicion. "Who are you?"
"My name is Lin Feng," he said simply, unfazed by the pointed weapons and hostile stares. "And I'm here to help you."
"Help?" Arthur barked out a bitter laugh. "You waltz in here like a ghost, catch my trident like it's a stick, and now you're suddenly our savior? You don't know what we're up against."
"Actually," Lin Feng replied, unfazed, "I do."
He turned back to Bruce and, with measured care, uncorked the vial and began to drip the green liquid onto Bruce's open wound. Instantly, the damaged tissue began to pulse and shift, the deep gashes knitting together in real time.
Victor's scanning interface beeped rapidly. "His vitals are stabilizing... that's impossible."
"It's not possible," Diana whispered, watching in disbelief as Bruce's breathing deepened and color returned to his face. "Even the Kryptonian healing chamber didn't do this much."
Lin Feng replaced the cork on the vial and gently pulled the covers over Bruce's chest again.
"That should be enough," he said. "He just needs rest now."
The heroes stood frozen, their weapons still raised but their aggression faltering.
Diana finally lowered her sword. "Thank you… for saving him. But you still haven't told us how you knew to come here."
Lin Feng looked at each of them with calm, unwavering eyes.
"Because I know Clark is looking for the last Mother Box," he said. "And when he finds it, your window will close. Permanently."
"How do you know that?" Victor asked suspiciously.
"Because I've fought him before," Lin Feng said quietly.
That sent a shockwave through the group.
Diana stared at him, confused. "You've what?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What exactly are you, Lin Feng?"
Instead of answering, Lin Feng's body slowly rose into the air, as if gravity had ceased to matter. A shimmer of black light flickered around him as a suit materialized over his body—sleek, shadowy, and unmistakably Kryptonian. A black cape flowed from his shoulders, and across his chest was a bold, silver "S" emblem.
A symbol of hope… now cloaked in night.
The room was silent as the others stared at him in stunned disbelief.
"Is this some kind of sick joke?" Arthur muttered. "Another Superman?"
"You're… Kryptonian?" Diana whispered.
Lin Feng nodded. "Let's just say I'm close enough."
Victor's mechanical arm began to beep frantically. Red lights flashed. Without warning, his entire cybernetic system shifted, transforming into an arm-mounted cannon pointed directly at Lin Feng's chest.
"Victor, wait—!" Diana shouted.
"I can't stop it!" Victor cried, sweat pouring down his brow. "It's automatic defense—he triggered it!"
A warhead loaded in the chamber. A countdown blinked red.
Lin Feng raised his hands and quickly descended to the ground, letting the black suit vanish in a ripple of light. "Whoa, calm down! I'm not an enemy!"
The tension snapped like a bowstring.
Seconds later, Victor's system whirred down and shifted back to its default form with a mechanical sigh.
Everyone breathed again.
"Sorry," Victor mumbled, still visibly shaken. "My system detects Kryptonian combat threat signatures. It—overreacted."
"No hard feelings," Lin Feng replied, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "I've seen worse security systems."
Diana stepped closer and looked him in the eye. "You understand what you're stepping into?"
Lin Feng nodded. "Clark is dangerous. You've seen it. He's not the same. But I've faced worse than him. I'm not saying I can beat him alone—but I can hold him."
He looked at each of them in turn. "You need time. I can give it to you."
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, Diana sheathed her sword. Arthur lowered his trident. Victor, still tense, offered a silent nod.
Lin Feng smiled. "Good. Then let's get to work."
In the corner, the monitor tracking Bruce's vitals beeped steadily.
The tide hadn't turned—not yet.
But for the first time in days, the shadows seemed just a little less dark.
And hope… took flight.