It was the second day since I was reincarnated into this chaotic universe.
I was sitting on a fairly comfortable sofa in the living room, resting my back while watching with a mix of amusement and terror the clumsy actions of the girls trying to feed the babies.
Watching two of the most powerful women in the DC universe struggling with a couple of baby bottles was a sight worth seeing.
Taking advantage of the fact that things had calmed down a bit in the house, I decided to set aside the maternity show and started drifting into my own thoughts.
In the last twenty-four hours, I had finally had enough time to explore the limits of the farm and, more importantly, to investigate what damn era we were in.
And I had good news.
‘I’ve got plenty of time before the main plot goes to hell,’ I thought with relief, a small smile forming on my face.
I had discovered that we were exactly in the year 1989.
And not only that: thanks to the maps and property deeds left behind by the cosmic deity, I knew we were on the outskirts of Smallville.
Although I still hadn’t had time to go into town and explore it, the name alone said everything.
We were at the epicenter of Superman’s origin.
“Now that I think about it… ROB only mentioned that I’d be going to DC, but he never specified which exact universe of his massive multiverse,” I wondered mentally, crossing my arms while staring at the wooden ceiling.
“Now that I know I’m in Smallville, I wonder if I’m trapped in the original TV series, or some other variant like Earth-167…”
Deep down, I wished with all my strength that it was the TV series.
If this world followed the rules of the Smallville show, the risk of instant death in this universe would drop quite a bit compared to the main comics, where villains destroy entire galaxies before breakfast.
‘Though I have to admit ROB was way too generous with me,’ Conner muttered mentally, scratching the back of his neck with honesty.
‘He didn’t just give me identity papers, he also prepared all the legal documentation for the girls.’
I glanced sideways at the two Kryptonian women.
Karen Starr and Laurel Kent were their human identities on Earth.
Best of all, the girls didn’t even ask where those documents came from when I handed them over yesterday afternoon; apparently, they thought I had already prepared this hideout and all the legal paperwork in advance.
That saved me from giving stupid explanations and made things easier.
I had also learned their true alien names… or rather, the Kryptonian names ROB had given them.
Laurel was Lar-El and Karen was Karn-El.
“Those names…” I murmured with amusement.
I found the whole thing quite interesting, but deep in my mind a small doubt kept eating at me.
Conner was absolutely certain of one thing: these girls had appeared out of nowhere, born purely as invocations or gifts from ROB.
That meant that if in the future we ran into other Kryptonian survivors—like General Zod himself or the criminals from the Phantom Zone—and they started asking about family trees or which noble house Lar-El and Karn-El belonged to, it was going to become a biblical headache.
“Well, it looks like little John is out of milk,” Laurel said, breaking my thoughts while holding the blond baby in her arms.
“I’ll go to the kitchen to get more.”
I let out a sigh of pure gratitude toward the ceiling.
Fortunately, ROB had been ridiculously considerate and had left the pantry stocked with everything needed: high-calorie special milk and baby diapers.
‘Wow, this really is good customer service,’ I thought jokingly, amused by how detailed the God of Stars had been.
Looking through the window toward the back barn, I remembered another detail.
Hidden underground at the edge of the farm was the “ship” in which I was supposedly brought to Earth.
Obviously, it was another gift from ROB that I hadn’t had time to properly inspect yet.
Unfortunately, the supposed space capsule in which Laurel and Karen had traveled was reported by them as “destroyed upon atmospheric entry.”
I assumed ROB simply didn’t want to give me two fully functional, cutting-edge spacecraft out of divine stinginess.
It was a shame, but honestly I already had enough with everything he had given me.
In most of the novels I read in my past life, other reincarnators ended up in the world completely undocumented, naked, homeless, and hunted by the government; others were lucky enough to wake up in the fresh corpse of a homeless man.
Compared to them, I had been treated like royalty by ROB.
I had a farm, an identity, alien technology, two future elite soldiers, and two beautiful Kryptonian wives.
“Alright, Conner Blake,” I said to myself, standing up and stretching the muscles of my new, powerful body.
“Time to get to work.
Smallville doesn’t know what’s coming.”
The afternoon sun began to tint the sky of Smallville with orange and reddish tones.
Taking advantage of the fact that Laurel and Karen had finally managed to put the babies to sleep, I decided to leave the house to stretch my legs and, at the same time, start getting familiar with the land surrounding my new property.
I walked with my hands in my pockets, enjoying the fresh countryside breeze.
The air felt incredibly clean.
As I moved along the edge of a dirt road that marked the boundary of the crops, I decided to subtly test my abilities.
I focused my mind on my eyes, aiming at an old oak tree nearly a kilometer away.
‘Alright… telescopic vision, activate…’ I thought, blinking.
Immediately I could see from a great distance, like a camera zoom lens.
“Wow, this is insane…” I murmured, astonished.
Just as I deactivated the power to avoid straining my brain, my super hearing picked up a metallic sound a few meters ahead, followed by a frustrated grunt.
A few steps further, where the road curved beside a wooden fence, there was a red pickup truck, quite old, with the hood open.
A middle-aged man, sturdy, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and a baseball cap.
Hearing my steps, the man straightened up, wiping sweat from his forehead with his forearm.
He had a rugged face, with expression lines caused by years working under the sun.
I stopped at a polite distance, observing him.
The man gave a friendly smile.
“Good afternoon, son.
I haven’t seen you around here before.
Are you lost?”
I put on my best friendly neighbor smile, stepping forward.
“Good afternoon.
No, I’m not lost,” I replied calmly.
“Actually, I moved in a couple of days ago to the farm across the hill, the Blake property.
I’m Conner.
Conner Blake.”
Jonathan’s eyes lit up with surprise, and he nodded enthusiastically, extending a rough, firm hand that I shook carefully, making sure not to use too much strength.
“Oh, the new neighbor!
It’s a pleasure, Conner.
I’m Jonathan Kent,” he said with a strong, sincere voice.
“My wife Martha and I own the farm that borders yours to the south.
We heard the property had been sold, but we didn’t expect someone so young to be in charge.”
It took me exactly two seconds to connect the dots in my head.
The red pickup truck, the clothes, that protective and honest look… My heart skipped a beat.
‘It’s… It’s Jonathan Kent.’
I swallowed the shock immediately.
“Well, I’m in charge along with my two… sons,” I blatantly lied, deciding it was better to present myself as a father for now.
“We’re trying to start over here.”
“That’s great.
Smallville is a good place for a fresh start,” Jonathan said, while closing the truck hood.
“Alright, I’ve got to go before it gets later and Martha starts worrying.
See you soon, neighbor,” Jonathan said goodbye, getting into his truck and driving away down the dirt road, leaving a cloud of dust behind.
I stood there on the road, watching the red pickup disappear in the distance toward the Kent farm.
The evening wind blew, ruffling my red hair.
A heavy realization, cold yet exciting, settled in my chest.
‘Jonathan Kent,’ I thought, looking up at the clear sky where the first stars were beginning to appear.
I turned around and walked back toward my farm.