The sky above Forks was overcast, but Kal had long since stopped caring about the clouds. They did little to stop the sun's gift from reaching him—not when it was part of him now. He soared silently above the treetops, wind howling past, one arm wrapped around the stasis pod like it was something fragile. Heavy. Not in mass, but in meaning.
It was his past, his origin… and a question mark wrapped in steel.
In his ear, a voice no one else could hear spoke softly—clear even through the roar of the wind.
"Altitude stable. Trajectory holding. Structural integrity of the vessel remains uncompromised."
Kal allowed a small smile. "Good to know you're able to state the obvious."
"If you prefer less precision, I can adjust my commentary to match human social norms. Perhaps, 'Looks fine, son. Fly safe.'"
Kal huffed. "Now that's terrifying."
The voice belonged to Jor-El—what was left of him, anyway. The AI core housed in the pod had reactivated when Kal found it, and with it came the voice of his father. The microscopic earpiece Jor had given him transmitted sound so quietly, only Kal's super hearing could pick it up. And only when it was in his ear.
It was seamless—private. The only voice from Krypton still echoing in this world.
Kal dipped below the cloud cover, scanning the forest floor. His house was only a dozen miles away now—mere minutes by flight. The spot he'd chosen wasn't perfectly hidden, but it didn't need to be.
"You are certain this location is secure?" Jor asked.
"Secluded enough," Kal replied. "Close to home, far from roads. And I can keep an eye on it."
"Acceptable. With my core active, I can engage advanced camouflage and limited subterranean concealment. The vessel will bury itself partially and remain invisible to conventional detection. Unless one stumbles upon it by pure accident, the chance of discovery is negligible."
"Let's keep it that way," Kal muttered.
He descended into a shallow valley nestled between old trees and stony outcrops. Moss blanketed the area, soft and green. A perfect hiding place—quiet, undisturbed. He lowered the pod gently into a natural dip in the ground and stepped back.
The pod whirred softly. Panels shifted. Its base began to dig into the earth, slow and deliberate, until it was half-submerged at an angle. Then, with a shimmer, it vanished—stealth protocols engaged.
To normal eyes, it was gone.
To Kal's vision, however, he could just barely make out the faintest ripple in the air, like heat off pavement. A shimmer on the edge of awareness.
He exhaled through his nose.
That should count, he thought.
And a moment later—
[Origin Quest Completed: "Echoes of the Crash"
Objective: Investigate the anomaly. Retrieve the pod.
Time Limit: None—delays may have consequences.
Reward: +500 XP, Kryptonian Escape Pod]
[Level Up: 5 → 6 (440/600)]
He blinked at the notification only he could see. The System, quiet and patient as always, had been waiting for him to do this right. He'd wondered, earlier, why finding the pod hadn't triggered completion. But now it made sense.
Not just locate. Secure.
Jor's voice cut back in, breaking the quiet.
"You hesitated just now. Is something troubling you?"
Kal glanced once more at the barely visible shimmer. "Just thinking," he said.
"About what?"
Kal paused. Then: "Why Earth?"
Jor was quiet for a beat.
"Because—"
Static.
Kal stiffened. A burst of sharp digital noise flared in his ear, making him wince. Then silence.
"Jor?" he called.
A moment later, the voice returned—distorted, uncertain.
"—Data corruption. Again. That segment of my memory archive has become inaccessible."
Kal's stomach turned.
Again.
The third time he'd tried to ask that question. The third time the answer had been cut off.
He swallowed, his expression tightening.
"Three times isn't random," he said quietly.
"Agreed. Once is an accident. Twice is a coincidence. But three times?" Jor's tone darkened. "That suggests a pattern. Someone — something — has deliberately tampered with the data."
Kal's thoughts raced. If it wasn't the pod… and it wasn't Jor…
Then who?
Or what?
He didn't think it was the System—it had already shown its ability to perfectly falsify records, fooling even Jor-El's advanced software.
And deep down, beneath the surface of his mind, a darker thought whispered back.
If it's not the System… then someone, or something else is watching.
He didn't voice it. Not yet. Not until he knew more. Not even to Jor.
The wind rustled the trees gently as Kal turned away from the now-invisible vessel. The escape pod—the last relic of Krypton—was hidden. For now.
And just as he began to lift off again, Jor's voice came through the earpiece once more, low and thoughtful.
"You know, my son," Jor said in his ear, "I should probably teach you how to fight."
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The rest of the week passed in a blur. Kal returned to Forks High on Wednesday, just as he'd promised the principal. The halls were gray and fluorescent-lit, filled with the low murmur of teenage voices and lingering glances that stretched a beat too long. Somehow, a rumor had already started to spread — that his parents had died, that he was staying in a relative's cabin deep in the woods.
Kal figured a teacher must've slipped, maybe unintentionally. But now, it had woven itself into the collective consciousness. Small towns didn't need much to build legends.
He didn't bother to correct anyone.
Instead, he kept his head down. Answered when called on. Stayed quiet, but not distant. Present enough to meet the bare minimum of his deal with the principal. It wasn't hard. The teachers were too busy, and the students had already labeled him as the "mysterious transfer."
He skipped lunch every day — always finding some excuse to disappear before the cafeteria filled. The noise, the smell, the subtle chaos — it made his skin itch. He'd usually find his way back to the music room - it's quiet warmth giving him great comfort, even when he didn't play.
Jessica Stanley was the only one who consistently spoke to him. Which, given her tendency to fill silences with speculation and pop culture references, required little from him in return.
"You know, you're, like, really hard to talk to," she said, plopping down beside him during English. "Which is weird, because I've basically been talking at you all week and I still don't know anything."
Kal tilted his head slightly, trying to appear more amused than exhausted.
"You're like a Rubik's Cube," she continued. "Except hotter. And taller. And with better hair."
He blinked. "You compare a lot of people to Rubik's Cubes?"
She grinned. "Only the complicated ones. So… mystery boy, what's the deal? "People are starting to think you're either in witness protection or secretly royalty."
Kal blinked. "Royalty?"
"You've got the whole Elven-prince-meets-undercover-bodyguard vibe," she said with a shrug. "It's giving Elrond, but make it gym-rat."
Kal gave a faint smile. "Something like that."
Jessica was relentless, but in a strangely comforting way. Her voice filled the silence. Her questions didn't demand truth. She just… talked. And Kal found himself letting her. She was human, in the most endearing, messy way.
Most lessons were easy to fake his way through. Forks High wasn't exactly Kryptonian-level education. Whenever Jessica wasn't in class with him, Kal used the time to dip into the System's interface — putting his head down, feigning sleep.
That was when the real learning began.
Classrooms became camouflage.
Kal quickly learned which periods had the least supervision — where teachers handed out worksheets and settled into their desks with coffee and email. All he had to do was lean his head into his arms, close his eyes, and let the world slip away.
That's when the System took over.
[Initiating Combat Trial]
[All Powers Disabled]
[Martial Skill Only]
[1XP per opponent defeated]
[Difficulty increases with progress]
[Begin.]
The transition was seamless. One blink, and the classroom dissolved into white.
Then came the arena.
Stone underfoot. No walls. No sky. Just haze and the hum of unseen energy. Kal stood alone, dressed in nothing but underwear and a pair of shorts — a far cry from invulnerability. His fists felt real. His body felt breakable.
The first enemy appeared — humanoid, smooth-faced, silver-skinned, and moving like a practiced fighter. Kal instinctively shifted his stance, grounding himself.
Torquasm Rao.
It came not as memory, but muscle.
Flow and force. Both soft and hard. Precision and redirection. The Kryptonian martial discipline was brutal when used carelessly — but elegant when mastered.
He didn't master it. Not yet.
But the Trial gave him room to fail.
The first fight was fast. Sloppy, but victorious.
[+1XP]
The second followed immediately — then the third, fourth. Each enemy faster, stronger, more aggressive. Kal's body ached in the mindspace, skin mottled with simulated bruises. One attacker tried to break his rhythm with rapid jabs; Kal slipped under a punch, pivoted, redirected the force, and brought the opponent down with a clean throw.
Momentum over muscle. That was the essence of Rao.
By the eighth opponent, he began to anticipate attacks. He wasn't faster — not here, not without powers — but he was sharper. His feet moved in tight arcs, never wasted. Every strike had purpose.
He breathed through the pain. Through the exhaustion.
And when the ninth opponent drew a curved dagger and slashed low, Kal didn't panic. He stepped into the blow, twisted, and used his attacker's own arm to wrench the blade away.
[+1XP]
Then came the tenth.
Tall. Heavily armored. Eyes like smoldering coals — simulated rage rendered perfectly. It didn't hesitate. Neither did Kal.
They clashed in a flurry of steel and bone. Kal's arms burned. His lungs felt like lead. Every block rattled down to his spine. He gave it everything — every technique, every counter.
It wasn't enough.
[Combat lost. Resetting.]
He flexed his fingers, reset his stance. Torquasm Rao was about persistence. Discipline. Mastery through repetition.
He exhaled, centered himself.
And stepped forward again, the same heavily-armoured man opposite him.
Back in the classroom, the bell rang. Kal opened his eyes.
Students shuffled past him in a wave of backpacks and tired footsteps.
As he moved down the hallway, Kal felt the quiet contrast waiting for him at home — the stillness of Torquasm Vo, the mental art. Where Rao was motion, Vo was stillness. Spirit. Silence.
He hadn't cracked that one yet.
But he would.
One discipline to hone the body. The other, the mind.
Every evening, after school, Kal found himself in the pod, training. Not just in combat, but in language, Kryptonian philosophy, and even Kryptonian science. He felt connected to something larger than himself, a bond growing between him and his late father, Jor-El.
The AI's hologram was no longer just a voice or a projection — it felt more like a presence. Like a father who had always been there, waiting for his son to be ready.
On a quiet evening, while Kal practiced his Kryptonian language skills, Jor-El's voice echoed through the chamber, steady and warm. "Your mother…" Jor-El began, his tone a rare flicker of emotion. "She was fiercer than I ever was. But she would've adored you."
Kal stopped, his eyes flickering up toward the projection. The words hit him harder than he'd expected. He didn't have a response, not the right one, at least. There were no comforting words, no easy answers. He just nodded, unsure if Jor-El could see the uncertainty in his face.
"I know you want to understand who you are, Kal," Jor-El continued, sensing his son's quiet struggle. "But what matters most is what you choose to do with that knowledge. You are not just Kryptonian. You are also human. You have grown up here. And that makes all the difference."
Kal thought about that, about his dual identity — the strange, lingering feeling of being more than one person at once. But Jor-El was right. His choices would define him, not his origin.
"I will be here when you need guidance, Kal. I am proud of what you have already become."
The words hung in the air, thick and heavy. Kal sat back, letting the calmness of his father's presence wash over him. It felt real — it felt like a connection that wasn't just artificial or digital.
And for the first time, Kal allowed himself to feel it: he wasn't just alone in this strange world. Not entirely.
By Friday, Kal was restless.
He skipped school without guilt, retreating deep into the woods beyond the cabin. The cold didn't bite at him the way it once might have. He sat cross-legged on a moss-covered stone, eyes closed, breath slow.
He was trying — again — to enter the state Jor-El had spoken of. Torquasm Vo.
Meditation. Awareness. Fortification of the soul.
But all he found was silence.
No great revelation. No astral projection. Just the sound of distant wind in the trees and the occasional chirp of some cold-resistant bird.
He sighed. Opened his eyes. The world remained the same.
That night, with moonlight silvering the forest canopy, Kal stepped out into the clearing beside his cabin. The stars glittered like ice shards overhead, and the air felt clean. He needed movement — needed distance.
Seattle. Finally.
He crouched, ready to launch—
[System Notification: Basic Stealth Protocols Activated]
[User Warning: Airspace is being monitored. DO NOT TAKE OFF.]
He froze mid-motion.
'What?' Kal's breath hitched.
A flash of heat ran through him — not fear, exactly, but instinct. He blurred across the woods in less than a heartbeat, arriving at the concealed hatch. The pod hissed open at his touch, lights flickering to life inside. He ducked in, sealed it behind him.
"Jor-El," he said aloud, eyes scanning the internal HUD. "Are you seeing anything unusual overhead?"
The AI responded without hesitation. "One moment. Beginning skywide orbital sweep."
Kal waited. Watched. His fingers hovered over the console, fidgeting with muscle memory.
Finally, Jor-El's voice returned. "There are twenty-seven satellites currently above our position. Most are commercial — weather, telecom, basic imaging. But several are abnormal."
Kal's jaw clenched. "How so?"
"They are listed as civilian, but their optic behavior suggests directed tracking. They're watching this airspace with intent." A pause. "And they've shifted since the last scan."
"Military?"
"Possibly. The registrations lead to different corporations. No unifying thread. Shell companies, most likely. Someone is watching, but trying not to be seen."
Kal stared at the readout. His gut twisted.
[QUEST ASSIGNED: "The Watchers Stir"
Objective: Recent activity has drawn attention. The airspace is being monitored. Remain undetected until the threat subsides.
Reward: 100 XP]
He didn't say anything. Just exhaled slowly through his nose.
"Could they have seen me?" he asked finally. "When I moved the pod?"
"It's possible," Jor-El said. "But unlikely. Your speed was high, and the pod's cloaking field was semi-active. Still—if they were looking at the right moment…"
Kal didn't finish the thought.
There was nothing else to do. No way to find out who they were. No way to scrub their data. Not yet.
He couldn't risk flying. Couldn't risk being seen.
So he stayed grounded.
And waited.
Kal didn't leave the woods all weekend.
He stayed grounded. Hidden. Focused.
The satellites didn't move. Not much, anyway. The System tracked them silently, but Kal didn't need the updates. He felt them — like invisible eyes scraping across the sky.
So he trained.
Torquasm Vo still resisted him. Silence of the mind was harder than it sounded — especially with the fog of unease lingering in his thoughts. But inside the pod's sealed chamber, time was his ally.
He initiated two Trials of Speed back-to-back.
The first was brutal in its simplicity.
Run full speed, then stop — completely — within one inch of a stone wall.
Dozens of times. At different angles. Midair. On slick surfaces. Without displacing debris, cracking the ground, or disturbing the environment.
It was the Flight Trials all over again — but grounded. Precise. Controlled. No room for brute force.
The second trial was worse.
A generated cityscape, packed with simulated civilians. Narrow alleys. Crosswalks. Market stalls.
Kal's task: run across the entire city and reach a fixed destination without hitting anyone, causing a panic, or displacing a single object.
A single misstep, a graze of a coat sleeve, and the trial reset.
He failed nine times.
But his flight trials had taught him more than he realised — how to redirect momentum, how to see in arcs, how to apply pressure without impact.
By the tenth try, he adapted, and by the twelfth, he won.
He emerged Sunday night, aching, eyes sharp. The System responded:
[Level Up: Level 6 → Level 7 (83/700)]
Kal exhaled deeply, knuckles tight.
Still, the satellites lingered.
He climbed atop the roof of the cabin and sat with arms wrapped around his knees, watching the stars blink coldly overhead. It had been days since he'd flown freely.
He didn't know who was watching. Only that someone was.
At 2:08 a.m., the System gave its quiet signal:
[Quest Complete: "The Watchers Stir"]
Airspace monitoring terminated.
[+100 XP]
Kal sat motionless, eyes half-lidded.
"Too late for Seattle, too early for school." he grumbled in annoyance.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Several hours earlier.
The wheels of the plane kissed the tarmac with a soft jolt. Outside, rain whispered against the windows, and the landscape beyond was blanketed in a familiar, unending mist. Washington.
Bella Swan shifted in her seat, her breath fogging the glass. Grey skies. Dark pines. Damp air. She hadn't been here in years, but it hadn't changed.
Charlie was waiting outside in his police cruiser, leaning against the hood like he had nowhere else to be. He looked exactly as she remembered—flannel, mustache, slightly hunched posture from years of quiet work.
"Hey, Bells," he said as she stepped out into the drizzle.
"Hey, Dad."
There was an awkward beat between them. Not silence exactly, more like a moment too heavy to fill with small talk.
He opened the trunk for her bag and offered a smile. "Got the heater running. Let's get you home."
The ride home passed quietly, save for the radio playing soft rock and the rhythmic slap of rain against the windshield.
"New tires," Charlie offered, as if the sound might've raised concern.
Bella gave a small smile. "Nice."
Neither of them were good at conversation. It was oddly reassuring.
Bella watched the trees blur past, each one dripping with moss and water. It was strange. After all this time in Arizona, the wet felt heavier than she remembered—like the whole town was submerged in clouds.
Charlie cleared his throat once they finally passed the welcome sign.
"Uh, I kept your room the same," he said, not taking his eyes off the road. "Figured you might want it that way."
Bella looked over. "Thanks. That's… actually kind of nice."
He nodded once. The silence returned, but this time it felt less strained.
By the time they reached the house, dusk had become full night, and the fog had rolled in thick as soup. The old two-story was just as she recalled — faded blue siding, a crooked mailbox, the porch light flickering faintly.
She stepped inside and paused. Everything was familiar: the muted smell of coffee and wood, the creak in the floorboard by the door, the low hum of the baseboard heater.
Her room upstairs was untouched. Same narrow bed, same pale purple comforter, same bookshelf with dusty paperbacks. A part of her had expected things to be smaller, or more worn down. Instead, it felt like she'd walked into a snapshot.
Charlie lingered in the doorway.
"I, uh, cleaned the sheets," he said. "Wasn't sure if you'd want me to move anything."
Bella set her duffel on the bed. "No, this is fine. Really."
He gave her a small smile. "You start school tomorrow. Forks High. I got your schedule from the front office."
She tried not to make a face. "Great."
He laughed under his breath. "It's not so bad. Small school, quiet kids. Just keep your head down, and they'll leave you alone."
"Sounds perfect," she said dryly.
Charlie hesitated for a second more. "I'll let you settle in."
Once he left, she unpacked in silence. Clothes in the dresser, shoes by the closet. It was mechanical, almost calming.
Rain pattered on the roof as she brushed her teeth and changed into pajamas. Outside, the fog pressed against the windows like a living thing, thick and unmoving. Forks was never truly dark—too much cloud cover, too much moisture in the air. It always glowed dimly, like the inside of a snow globe.
It was past eleven when she finally crawled into bed.
Sleep didn't come easily. For several hours her thoughts spun — Phoenix, her mother, the awkward tension of moving into a house that still felt like a stranger's. Her room may have been preserved, but she wasn't the same girl who'd left it.
She turned to face the window, pulling the comforter tighter around her.
The clouds parted briefly — a ray of moonlight shining through the trees.
And in that moment, she saw something.
A flicker.
High above the forest canopy, like the reflection off metal, or a glint of something moving at impossible speed.
Then it was gone.
Bella blinked, sat up, and peered through the fogged glass. Nothing. Only clouds, moonlight, and the endless, silent trees.
She shook her head.
Probably a plane. Or a trick of the light. Or nothing.
By the time the sun had risen, the morning fog in Forks hung low and heavy, curling around pine trunks and clinging to rooftops.
"Heard you guys coming from all the way down the road. Good to see you."
Charlie Swan's voice came from th driveway.
Bella Swan tugged her coat tighter as she stepped out onto the porch, blinking at the sight parked in the driveway.
It was red. Old. Rusty.
The truck sat like a sleeping beast, well-worn but sturdy. Her dad leant against its bed.
"Bella, you remember Billy Black."
He gestured at a man to his side. He had tan skin — due to his Native American roots. He wore a blue tee under a red flannel overshirt, a black fedora on top of his long locks. And he was in a wheelchair.
Behind him, a younger boy waited. 15 at most. Also Native American, his long hair hung down the sides of his face.
"Yeah.", she nodded in affirmation to her father's question, turning to face Billy. "Wow, you're looking good."
"Well, I'm still dancing." Billy chuckled. "But I'm glad you're finally here. Charlie here hasn't shut up about it since you told him you were coming."
Charlie blushed a little and turned away, as Billy side-eyed him and gave another little chuckle.
"Alright, keep exaggerating and I'll roll you into the mud." he said, walking off.
"After I ram you in the ankles." Billy threatened, arms working to turn his wheelchair, and chase after Charlie.
"Oh, you wanna go?" Charlie challenged playfully.
"Yeah, bring it!"
Bella laughed as the boy stepped toward her.
"Hi I'm Jacob." the boy said, sticking out his hand to shake.
"Hey." Bella replied.
"We, uh, used to make mudpies together when we were little."
"Right." she nodded. "No, I remember."
She turned her head towards where her father and Billy play-fought in the road.
"Are they always like this?"
Jacob put on a somber face.
"It's getting worse with old age." he joked.
They both let out a little chuckle.
"So, what do you think?" Charlie said, approaching them and slapping the side of the red truck. Billy followed behind, their play fight seemingly over for now.
"Of what?" she asked.
Charlie gestured to the truck with his eyes, "Your homecoming present."
"This?" Bella asked, excitement in her tone.
He nodded.
"Just bought it off Billy here."
"Yep." Billy chimed in.
Now Jacob spoke, "I totally rebuilt the engine for you."
"Come on!" Bella exalted, "Oh my gosh! Th-This is perfect. Are you kidding me."
She rushed to the truck, opening the door to get inside. Jacob followed close behind, circling around to the passenger side.
"I told you she'd love it." Billy told Charlie as their children got in the truck. "I'm down with the kids."
Charlie scoffed, "Oh yeah dude, you're the bomb."
Inside the truck, Jacob acquainted her with her new truck.
"You're gonna love it. She's got personality. Let's see. You've got to double pump the clutch when you shift, but, uh, besides that, you should be good."
Bella turned the keys in the ignition, engine rumbling like a dragon stirred from slumber, grumbling and coughing before settling into a deep, comfortable growl. It was loud — the crappy kind of loud, rather than supercar loud — but still, it was hers.
She turned to Jacob.
"Do you want a ride to school or something?"
"Oh I go to school on the reservation." he responded.
"Right, right. That's too bad. It would've been nice to know at least one person."
Charlie came up to her window as Jacob climbed out.
"Try not to run over any mailboxes on your first day, huh?"
She smirked faintly. "I'll do my best."
Bella gave a wave to Jacob and Billy, then backed out of the driveway with cautious excitement.
The fog was thick as she drove through town. Half-familiar streets blurred into grey shadows, the sun a dim suggestion behind the clouds. It was all so different from Phoenix. Wetter, colder, quieter.
Forks High came into view like a collection of overgrown cabins, all low buildings and moss-touched roofs. She pulled into the student parking lot and killed the engine.
Heads turned almost immediately.
The truck — bold red and rumbling like thunder — wasn't exactly subtle.
"Nice ride." someone said, half-serious, half-joking. Sporty, tall, with skin the colour of coffee.
"Thanks."
She tried to ignore the looks as she got out, adjusting her backpack and brushing her hair behind one ear. People stared here. She'd forgotten that. Forks was small, and new faces didn't exactly go unnoticed.
"Hey!"
Bella turned to see a boy approaching with awkward enthusiasm. He had spiked black hair, glasses slipping slightly down his nose, and an armful of notebooks.
"You're Isabella Swan?" he asked, a little breathless, "the new girl, right?"
She didn't get a chance to answer.
"Hi, I'm Eric, the eyes and ears of this place. Anything you need, tour guide, lunch date, shoulder to cry on?"
She responded awkwardly, "I'm really kind of more the suffer-in-silence type."
"That's a good headline for the feature. I'm on the paper, and, you're news baby — front page."
Bella blinked. "No I'm not."
"First new student in ages. Well, except that other guy a couple weeks ago, but he's... different. Not very talkative. Kinda scary."
She tried to deny, stuttering, "You— Please, don't have any sort of—"
"Woah, woah. Chillax." Eric assured her. "No feature."
She felt relieved.
"Okay, thanks."
Eric grinned, clearly pleased.
The morning moved forward in a haze of names and faces, hallways and lockers, maps and murmured introductions. Bella drifted from one classroom to the next, trying not to get lost and not entirely succeeding.
By the time gym rolled around, she was already exhausted of introductions.
The locker room smelled like detergent and rubber mats. Bella changed in silence, keeping her head down, and shuffled out with the rest of the class into the gym — a long room of waxed floors, fluorescent lights, and damp echoing walls.
Volleyball.
Bella's shoulders sank.
She tried. She really did. But her third serve ricocheted sideways, smacking someone directly in the back of the head.
The boy yelped and turned, rubbing the spot. Blonde hair, slightly damp from sweat.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Bella said, hurrying over, "I told them not to let me play."
He gave her a crooked grin. "Hey, no, don't worry about it. I get hit all the time."
"You're Isabella — the new girl right?"
"Just Bella." she said, still apologetic.
"Mike," he said. "Newton."
Bella took the hand he offered.
"Nice to meet you."
Before she could apologise again, a voice piped in from behind.
"She's got a great spike, huh?."
Bella turned to see a girl with dark curls and a knowing smirk. "I'm Jessica by the way. Hey, you're from Arizona, right?"
Bella nodded.
"Aren't people from Arizona meant to be, like, really tan?"Jessica asked laughingly.
"Yeah… Maybe that's why they kicked me out." she tried to joke.
Mike seemed to find it funny, giving a light laugh.
"You're good." he said, between chuckles, gesturing toward her with his finger.
Jessica laughed along, though it was more awkward — forced.
"That's so funny…" Jessica said weakly.
With a small, awkward wave, Bella turned back to her court. Mike did the same, and Jessica soon followed behind Bella.
The lunchroom buzzed with casual noise — trays clattering, laughter echoing, the muted hum of teenage conversation. Bella stood awkwardly in line behind Mike and Jessica, clutching her tray, following them as they weaved through the tables.
Eric — the eager boy from earlier who claimed to be with the school paper — was already seated, deep in conversation with a soft-spoken girl wearing a blue knit cardigan. They looked up as the trio approached.
"Hey, Mikey!" Eric called with a grin. "You met my homegirl Bella?"
Mike blinked as he sat down. "Oh? Your homegirl?"
Before Bella could process the exchange, someone suddenly appeared beside her — the boy who had complimented her truck that morning in the parking lot. His approach was so fast and smooth she barely had time to turn her head before he leaned in, kissed her lightly on the cheek, and grinned.
"My girl," he said with a wink.
Bella's eyes widened in surprise.
"Tyler!" Eric laughed, already shaking his head.
With a mischievous grin, Tyler reached behind Mike and yanked the chair out from under him with a single, practiced motion. Mike yelped as he toppled, his tray clattering to the ground. Laughter erupted from the table.
"Tyler, get back here!" Mike shouted, scrambling to his feet as Tyler darted off, chair in hand like a victorious thief.
Bella blinked, confused for a second, then caught the smile on Mike's face as he chased Tyler around the lunchroom.
'They're friends', she realised.
Jessica groaned, then slid over on the bench so she was closer to Bella. "It's like first grade all over again," she said dryly. "You're like the shiny new toy."
Bella smiled a little nervously, unsure what to say. Then Jessica added with a slightly breathy laugh, "At least Kal will be pleased. Some of the heat'll be off him."
Bella tilted her head. "Who's Kal?"
Eric perked up at that. "Another new kid. Got here last week. Super mysterious, total loner vibe. He pretty much only talks to Jessica."
Jessica turned bright red. "He does not only talk to me."
"Yeah he does," Eric teased. "She's totally got a crush."
Jessica smacked his arm lightly with a scowl, but she couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
At that moment, a flash went off, startling Bella.
A girl had sat down across from her, holding up a compact school camera. Her ponytail swished as she adjusted her glasses, satisfied. "Sorry, I needed a candid for the feature."
Eric sighed theatrically. "Angela, the feature's dead. Don't bring it up again."
Bella rubbed her eyes, dazzled from the flash.
"Sorry," Bella tried to apologise, "I just don't wan-"
"Don't worry," Eric added smoothly, standing up and brushing his hands. "I got your back, baby."
Bella gave him a blank look. He winked, then wandered off, probably to hunt down Mike and Tyler.
"Guess we'll just run another editorial on teen drinking," said Angela dryly.
"You know, you could always go for eating disorders." Bella offered.
Jessica and Angela stared at her blankly.
"Or Speedo padding on the swim team." she joked.
Angela suddenly brightened up.
"Actually, that's a good one."
Jessica nodded along, "Kirk? Right? That's exactly what I thought." she said, laughing.
"We're talking Olympic-size…" Angela quipped.
"There's no way. He's so skinny, it doesn't make sense." Jessica responded.
The table began to settle again, and for a moment Bella glanced down at her food — untouched. Something pulled her gaze away.
Outside the lunchroom window, a group of students were crossing the courtyard.
They didn't walk like the others. There was something unreal about them — the way they moved, like a slow-motion camera had been turned on and no one else noticed. Bella's eyes fixed on them. They were beautiful. All of them. Almost unnaturally so.
Something about them unsettled her. Not in a threatening way — more like they were a different species entirely. Unreachable. Untouchable.
As the group entered the cafeteria, the air seemed to shift. The noise dimmed a little. Conversations paused.
"Who are they?" Bella asked, her voice just above a whisper.
Angela looked over.
"The Cullens."
Jessica leaned closer, following her gaze, then smirked knowingly.
"They're Dr and Mrs Cullen's foster kids. They moved down here from Alaska, like… a few years ago."
"They kinda keep to themselves." Angela added.
Jessica nodded. "Yeah 'cus they're all together. Like, together together."
"The blonde girl — that's Rosalie."
Bella's eyes locked onto the blonde. She was… stunning. Her skin was like marble. Fitting, she thought, because her face, something so perfect, could only have been sculpted. — high cheekbones, full, blood-red lips and smoky, seductive eyes with perfect lashes that could tempt seemingly anyone. She could've been a supermodel even among supermodels.
"The big dark-haired guy — that's Emmett. They're like, a thing."
Emmett was huge. He must've been at least 6'5" and had the physique of a bear. And he was gorgeous too. Not as beautiful as Rosalie, but far more than it felt anyone should — no, could — be. He had curly dark-brown — almost black — hair, and when he smiled at Rosalie dimples appeared on his cheeks.
"I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica finished.
"Jess, they're not actually related." argued Angela.
"Yeah, but they live together. It's weird." whispered Jessica. "And — okay — the little dark-haired girl's Alice. She's really weird."
Alice too was stunningly beautiful. Bella was beginning to realise this was a shared feature. Where Rosalie was seductive and sensual, however, Alice was enchanting.
She was tiny. She couldn't have even been five feet in height (A/N: The wiki has her at 4'10"). Her hair was cropped short — spiky and black, framing her face perfectly and her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. It made her seem… ethereal. Her eyes were large, innocent. She was captivating. Mesmerising.
Jessica continued, "And see the blonde one? Who looks like he's in pain? That's Jasper. He's with Carolyn, the brunette."
(A/N: Carolyn is just a new member of the coven I created to replace Alice as Jasper's mate. Her ability is to take away other people's pain, which fits well with Jasper's ability to sense others emotions I think. But, she's not actually important to the plot, so vote to keep her in or not:
1. Yes, keep her in. Jasper shouldn't be a single dog.
2. No. Get rid of her. Jasper can be lonely.
I'll check in a couple days to make the decision.)
Jasper was handsome just like the others. Honey-blond hair not unlike Rosalie's fell in locks to his shoulders. He was tall — not as tall as Emmett — but still well over six feet in height. But his perfect features were marred by the frown on his face, a grimace. He did look like he was in pain.
Hand in hand with him was another girl, Carolyn. Perfect skin, almond-shaped eyes and luscious brown hair held up in a ponytail. She looked at Jasper with love in her eyes.
"Dr Cullen's like this foster-dad-slash-matchmaker."
"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela said dreamily, hands clasped together.
Bella's eyes were locked on the last boy who walked through the door. He was tall, with untamed red-bronze hair, and skin like marble. Bella felt a twist in her gut. She could hardly remember ever seeing someone so attractive, perhaps she never had.
Her eyes traced over his features. The high cheekbones. The hard square of his jaw. The softer curve of his full lips, and his perfectly-straight nose.
"Who's he?"
Jessica followed her gaze. She let out a soft breath.
"That's Edward Cullen. He's totally gorgeous, obviously, but apparently nobody here's good enough for him." she said that second part with a hint of resentment, "Like I care, you know."
"Well, hey," said Angela, "You could go for Kal."
Jessica just blushed slightly and rolled her eyes.
Seeing Bella's gaze still focussed on Edward, Jessica chimed in again.
"Seriously, like, don't waste your time."
Bella turned to her.
"...Wasn't planning on it."
But, unable to help herself, she turned for a final look.
Edward didn't look at anyone. Didn't see anyone.
And yet, there was a flicker — just the tiniest flash of something familiar — when Edward Cullen looked up, his golden eyes scanning the room. For a heartbeat, they flicked in her direction. Their eyes locked for a second.
Then he looked away, completely uninterested.
Bella wasn't sure why her stomach twisted.
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IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is the final one — I promise. Anyway, I've received a lot of comments about Kal's power levels. Yes he is weaker than Superman normally is. This is by design. His current archetype 'Young Superman', is kind of like a starter class. It's actually a Tier 0 archetype — when he reaches level 10 and unlocks his first 'real' archetype, he'll be a lot stronger. I should've actually put that into the story, it was more of an understanding that I had in my head, but obviously, you can't read my mind. Anyway, even with his Tier 0 archetype, he's definitely stronger than any one vampire. What will really be his problem are vampire abilities. Superman is famously weak to magic and mental attacks, so until he unlocks an archetype that eliminates that risk, or Bella becomes a vampire, he'll have to be careful around those with abilities.
Anyway, vampires and shapeshifters will not be getting any power boosts. I've added in a way for stronger antagonists to appear though it probably will only become really evident once he reaches around level 20. A lot of things will be revealed around that time (in-world, not by the system) that will make you understand everything to come. Anyway, until then, he'll still be dealing primarily with wolves and vampires.
Finally — and most importantly — thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.