The Man of Steel

## Segment 1

A rumble. An explosion. A series of shouts. He could barely make out the figures scurrying in front of him, but he could see the glow of distant temples erupting into flames. A wave of violet light overtook the world around him, and everything was gone in an instant.

"Cladrin? Cladrin, are you alright?"

A soft voice of a woman called out to Cladrin, awakening him from a sweat-soaked sleep. She was wearing a silk crimson robe that seemed to radiate with warmth, covering the rest of her body. Her subtly wrinkled face was cracked with concern.

"Yes, mother," assured Cladrin, wiping the icy sweat from his brow, "just another nightmare."

She nodded, looking into the corner of his room. Cladrin's stomach felt pseudo-sick, a clear sign of embarrassment. He knew that these were just dreams, which is why he felt humiliated that the dreams had such a profound effect on him. Cladrin peered out of his window, seeing the sun amidst a clear blue sky. It must be time for school again.

As his mother exited his room, Cladrin removed his ripped pyjamas and donned a shrimp-coloured tunic and leggings. Resent filled his thoughts as he glared at his clothes. The colours, he thought, were too feminine. This fact alone didn't bother him, he thought that nothing was wrong with femininity. However, his classmates were much crueller than him and had recently been teasing him.

His mother, Marsa, couldn't afford greater clothes. Ever since the passing of her husband, Jonathan, she became overworked on the farm. Nearly every day, Cladrin has proposed that he'd assist her, but she always insisted that Cladrin would do nothing but sit back.

Cladrin knew why, but they never spoke of it.

Cladrin's house was made of faded wooden planks. Outside of a few drawings by Cladrin in his earliest years, his home was noticeably desolate. Even then, he considered it his only home. He strolled out of the large wooden door, looking back on his home, which was painted a delicate red on the outside. Marsa was waving him a gentle goodbye as he made his way to school. He smirked at her. Even since Jonathan's passing, she still brought light to everyone's life.

Walking down the cobblestone street, he stared at the lampposts. A new invention, invented by a respected scientist in a neighbouring city. He found its glow alluring. His school hadn't adapted to this new technology yet, still using candles to light up the corridors and classrooms. After a few minutes of sauntering past bakeries and apothecaries, he had arrived at his destination.

Cladrin ambled through the intimidating black gates of his school, Dwarfville Education. Despite the name, both the city and school of Dwarfville were majorly populated by Humans. You would see the odd Halfling now and then, and on a blue moon, you'd spot an Elf, but more often than not, you'd be surrounded by Humans. If one wasn't a Human, they'd likely be immediately outcasted. Cladrin saw himself as an outcast too, despite him being a Human.

Dwarfville Education used to be a fortress a few wars ago. Once the lands found peace, the fortress had been decommissioned and eventually renovated as a high school.

He stared at his beaten-up shoes on the concrete. He couldn't bear to look at his peers. Despite them all being repelled by his presence, he could hear every word they whispered.

"That guy is so weird..." "Look at what he's wearing!" "Did you hear he doesn't go to half the classes?"

He shook his head, almost as if to knock the soundwaves out of his ears. Cladrin could almost feel the eyes on him. They were like burning miniature spotlights, or at least he presumed them to be. He has never been burned before.

He drew his attention to a conversation that wasn't about his oddness. Two men hastily discussing the Bureau.

"Did you hear about that substitute teacher, Professor Ellis? He was detained by the Bureau!"

"Agh, of course, he was. Ever since the Bureau came into Dwarfville, they've been attacking anyone cool. And all because they *might* use their magic for evil... terrible, I say."

One of the remarks stuck with him as he jotted down notes on precognitive visions in Magic Studies. "Doesn't go to half the classes", an ignorant girl gossiped earlier. He silently grunted as he tried to focus his thoughts, but the sound kept wriggling into his mind like a worm. "What does she know?" he thought to himself, "it's not my fault that I'm not allowed to do Athletics." Marsa had forbidden Cladrin from attending an Athletics class. At the thought of this, Cladrin's quill shattered in his hand.

"Professor Jones, may I get another quill?" he murmured to the teacher. He looked up with his drooping, crinkled face and gestured to the door nonchalantly. A trip to the office was in order, as that's the only room in the school that supplied students with quills. Some of his classmates snickered to themselves, reminding Cladrin of an unpleasant childhood incident.

Cladrin silently stepped out into the marble hallway, walking past the white candles used to illuminate the place. he tried harder to force that thought from his head. With all of his mental energy, he imagined a snippet of that event being locked in a treasure chest and thrown into the ocean. This imaginative exercise prevented him from realizing that a gaggle of students was in his way. He stumbled back.

"Oh, I'm s-so sorry..." he stammered. The trio in front of him gave him a deathly stare.

"Excuse me? You bumped into me, and all you've got to say for yourself is *sorry*?" The lead one cried out.

"Yes... I didn't mean any harm."

The student in front of him wore pristine black leather and stood a few feet above Cladrin. He was much wider too, likely the result of working out. Cladrin looked up, his ocean-blue eyes locked into his enemy's hazel ones. Suddenly, Cladrin felt the force of his enemy's burly arms pushing him back. Cladrin balanced himself before he could fall, but he felt a different kind of pain. The ones behind his opponent giggled to themselves.

"Yeah, how do you like that? Good on you, Benjamin!" One of his cohorts chimed in.

Benjamin attempted to land a right hook on Cladrin's face. However, Cladrin was ready, and he effortlessly dodged it. A stupor was left on Benjamin's face, still processing the concept that he was capable of missing an attack.

"Please, move out of my way," Cladrin commanded. He attempted to speak sternly, but his voice uncontrollably quivered.

"Oh, that's it!" Benjamin's face glowed red with rage. Grinding his teeth, he wound up a punch. Swinging his arm, he felt a rush of heat, followed by a constrictive force. Cladrin had swiftly grabbed hold of his arm and gave Benjamin a sorry scowl. Cladrin shoved Benjamin back, causing him to topple over.

Benjamin's two acolytes proceeded to charge at Cladrin. Before he knew it, Cladrin was flipped on his back. What seemed like an endless flurry of merciless kicks were dealt upon him. His groans turned into shouts, each one echoing through the empty halls. No professors within earshot. Benjamin got back up and stomped on Cladrin's face with his hard leather boot.

"How do you like that?!"

Cladrin felt a tear begin to grow in his eye. Each blow seemed to quicken its formation. His mind became foggier each second, until...

Cladrin very abruptly stopped yelling. He clenched both fists. He felt a strange sense of dignity and respect, two emotions he would consider bizarre in this scenario. Each hit seemed to bounce off of him more and more until it eventually hurt the bullies' feet to kick him. Perplexed expressions overcame their faces.

"Wait, how are you doing that?"

"Agh, that hurt. What's that pink stuff made of?" questioned Benjamin's third friend, clutching his left foot.

Cladrin rose into the air and slammed the ground beneath him.

The floor ruptured with a powerful boom. Cracks began appearing all around the hallway, loose pieces of rubble tumbling onto the ground. Benjamin and his gang were lifted into the air, colliding with the ceiling. A sickening crack was heard when they dropped down onto the floor. The candles that remained on the near-collapsed walls had somehow become unlit. Cladrin, in a haze, felt his body move into a standing position, though he couldn't recall moving at all.

His breathing was becoming faster and faster. Some dust had sprinkled into his eyes, stinging them. He spun around, looking at the carnage around him. His ears were ringing, but he could faintly make out the terrified shrieks of his peers in other rooms. But none of that mattered as much as what he saw next.

A vision.

He had learned about them just a few minutes ago, so he easily recognized the symptoms. All other sensations were dulled as he was pulled into a dreamlike state.

He was thrust out of it as quickly as he was pulled into it, but what he witnessed was unmistakable. An Elf, wearing a strikingly grand emerald cloak. "Go to your home," he beckoned, "you will be safe there, son."

On his cloak was a red emblem that mystified Cladrin. An emblem he had seen in his dreams. One that made little sense to him, yet inexplicably filled him with power and hope. An "S" within a diamond shape.

Cladrin ran.