The blazing sun hung high overhead as rolling heat waves rose from the steam-filled wheat fields.
The tractor chugged and vibrated through the field, its exhaust pipe spewing diesel fumes that mixed with dust and settled on the ground, leaving behind streaks of dark gray grime.
As the tractor reached the end of the ridge, the man behind the wheel shut off the throttle, removed his frayed denim hat to fan himself, and turned to look toward the barn.
He thought to himself: *Is this what the joy of harvest feels like?*
After all…
the freshly harvested oats could pile up into a golden little mountain in the barn!
*Rumble!*
“Hey!!
Rock!”
A gruff voice cut through the heat waves like a dull knife slicing through stagnant air.
Rock narrowed his eyes and saw an old red tractor rolling over the wheat stubble toward him.
Sitting in the driver’s seat was none other than his cousin—Jonathan Kent.
He was waving at Rock, veins bulging on his sunburned, red-and-white arm.
He looked like a textbook American strongman.
“This year’s wheat—even God would turn green with envy looking at it!”
“Hahaha!”
Jonathan stepped hard on the brakes.
The tractor tires crushed a few stray grains of wheat with soft popping sounds.
He hopped down and grabbed two cold beers from the back seat.
As the cold glass met the heat, condensation beaded on the bottles, glistening in the sunlight.
“Here, let’s celebrate this year’s harvest!”
With a helpless smile, Rock accepted the bottle and popped off the cap, taking a large gulp.
“Jonathan, my brother, you’ve really helped me out a lot,” he said with heartfelt gratitude.
If not for this man, he’d probably be begging on the streets by now.
“We’re brothers, aren’t we?
What’s there to say?” Jonathan smirked, chugging his beer.
“As long as you don’t report me to Martha for sneaking a few sips, I’m happy.”
“You rascal…”
Rock gave a quiet laugh.
Truth be told, in his past life, he never would have imagined Superman’s adoptive father had a side like this.
“Can’t chat for long, Martha’s nagging me to get back and rest again.” Slipping the beer bottle onto Rock’s tractor, Jonathan sighed.
“You know how it is.
I’ve got another night of torture ahead of me.”
“…”
Rock suppressed a smile and stayed quiet.
Such was the sorrow of a middle-aged man, perhaps, but…
who told his cousin not to have a child yet?
Jonathan’s miserable night life would probably only come to an end once Clark arrived.
Looking at the distant harvester still rumbling, and the golden waves of wheat swaying in the hot breeze, Rock leaned back and lay down, staring up at the sun in the sky.
He was Rock Kent.
It had been twenty-five years since Truck-kun transported him here.
Ever since he learned that this world had Gotham…
and Metropolis…
he had looked forward to a magnificent life.
However, things hadn’t gone as planned.
His cheat code never arrived; instead, he got the life of a farmer.
Unlike the idyllic farmer’s life he had imagined—inheriting his deadbeat dad’s run-down farm with dreams of becoming a landowner—he was struck squarely in the head within two days by all kinds of exorbitant American taxes.
“Property tax, agricultural tax, fuel tax, equipment usage tax…”
In his heart, he silently recited the terms that had been gnawing away at his flesh and blood over the years.
During his first harvest year, the IRS agents drove a shiny sedan over his muddy ridges, wearing suits expensive enough to buy half a warehouse of his oats.
They read off numbers tapped into a calculator in a tone even colder than the eulogy read at his father’s funeral!
Fortunately, the couple living next to his farm was Jonathan and Martha.
When all the tax bills and droughts were about to crush him, the two of them quietly offered him their shoulders to lean on once again.
From that point on, Rock let go of his fantasies about a cheat code…
To him, the cheat code of this life had never been a system or superpowers.
It was someone willing to cross forty acres of wheat fields on a scorching afternoon to hand over their modest savings.
Lying on the wheat stubble, Rock’s thoughts drifted alongside the foam in the beer bottle beside him.
Once this year’s wheat was sold, he’d find an excuse to pay Jonathan back, plus a little extra stashed on the side.
After all, Jonathan barely had any secret savings left.
*Sigh*, who knows when Clark will show up.
He and Jonathan hadn’t held their late-night old-men hangouts in half a year…
Hmm…
Right, when Clark arrives, he definitely has to get the boy to recognize him as his godfather.
That way…
Squinting, the sunlight overhead made Rock feel drowsy, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
“Forget it…
I’ll take a nap first…
Let the wheat grow one more night.”
“What time is it?”
Dazedly sitting up, Rock looked up at the moon that had somehow crept into the sky, raising his wrist to check the time.
But…
*BOOM!!!*
A deafening explosion suddenly tore through the night, shaking the ground violently!
Rock jolted awake, bolting straight up from the wheat stubble, his heart pounding erratically.
“Aliens attacking?!” His first reaction was that some metahuman was fighting nearby, or the military was testing some freak weapon.
But as he frantically looked around, his face went deathly pale—
Thick smoke was billowing from the direction of Kent Farm!
“Jonathan?!
Martha?!”
Did something go wrong with the Kryptonian ship’s landing spot?!
How could it crash directly into the farm and start a massive fire!
Rock was instantly wide awake.
He scrambled madly toward the tractor, not even bothering with the key, grabbing two wires and touching them together—
*Chug-chug-chug-chug!!!*
The tractor roared to life and surged forward.
Rock gripped the steering wheel tight as the wheat fields sped past beneath the wheels.
“Please don’t let anything happen, please don’t let anything happen…”
His throat felt tight as countless horrifying thoughts raced through his mind.
Maybe it wasn’t a Kryptonian ship?
Was it an accident?
A gas explosion?
A short circuit?
Or…
an attack?
This world was far from peaceful.
What if some villain had targeted the future adoptive parents of Superman?
The tractor hurtled over the ridge.
Rock could now clearly see the shape of the flames.
The Kents’ barn was ablaze!
Plumes of smoke shot skyward, sparks flew in all directions, and a blast of heat slammed into his face.
And right there in the midst of the fire—
A blurry figure was staggering outward!
Rock’s heart nearly stopped beating.
“Jonathan?!”
He slammed on the gas, the tractor roaring into the farm.
Before it even came to a complete stop, Rock leaped out, nearly tumbling face-first into the mud.
But as he stumbled closer, he realized—
That wasn’t Jonathan.
It was a ragged middle-aged man with messy black hair and a dirt-covered face, fiercely clutching a baby in his arms.
Seeming to spot Rock, the man hurriedly tossed the baby along with a strange object straight into Rock’s arms.
Then, just like that, he turned into ash and dissolved before Rock’s eyes.
[Ding~] [Adoption Successful.] [Current Adopted Character: Dio Brando] [Please assist in his healthy moral, intellectual, physical, artistic, and physical labor growth, guiding him to forge a great career.] [Parental Privilege Loaded: Golden Body of the Joestar Family.] [Countdown to Next Adopted Character: Nine Years]
His cheat code had arrived…
But Rock couldn’t bring himself to feel happy.
He stared down at the blond infant in his arms, the star-shaped birthmark on his neck, and the Stone Mask held in his other hand, falling into deep thought.
Should I expect anything less from you, Dio?
The moment you show up, you burn down my cousin’s farm?
Truly evil to the core.
“Rock!”
“Rock!”
At the same time, two startled shouts came from behind Rock.
Jonathan and Martha were running toward him, faces filled with anxiety.
However, what drew the most attention…
was the baby cradled in their arms.