Chương 7: Out to Sea

Morning light in the fisherman's cottage always came in salted and warm, and on the seventh round of it sliding through the window and onto the edge of the bed, Kaelvorn stretched out slowly. He'd already peeled the bandages off in private. The wound that used to run jagged across his chest and stomach was down to a few faint pink lines. The broken ribs had knit solid. Even the spinal sprain had come all the way back online.

He made a fist and felt the power moving under his skin, and something flickered behind his eyes. Surprise. A Viltrumite body already came with an aggressive healing factor. But recovering from an injury this severe, this time, had left him better than before. Not just healed. Upgraded. His muscles had reshaped into something leaner and denser, and raw strength sat at roughly double what it had been before the pod tore open. His senses had sharpened too.

Waves breaking against rocks a hundred meters out, wind dragging across leaves outside, all of it came through clear. Shame I never bothered studying the actual lore in my old life's Invincible comics. Kaelvorn ran a finger along the faint scar on his chest, thinking it over. He didn't fully understand why Viltrumite bodies worked like this either. He'd tested well in combat classes and had never been shipped off to study Viltrumite science.

For seven days now he'd let Tom take care of him, feeling this body climb back from the edge of death one day at a time. And having his strength come back with this kind of bonus attached had him paying close attention to his own body for the first time in a long while. He'd never had the luxury before. Back home, a fight or a training block ending didn't buy you time to breathe, let alone take stock. You never really knew how much stronger you'd gotten.

Before he'd been fast-tracked into that graduation ceremony early, all Kaelvorn remembered was endless grinding. People around him either washed out or died, and whoever survived alongside him always seemed to land at roughly the same power level. He'd heard from an instructor once that Viltrumites could keep pulling strength out of combat without any hard ceiling. He'd never actually felt it happen to him this clearly until now. Downstairs, Tom already had breakfast going.

Same simple seafood chowder, with flatbread toasted crisp on the side.

"How you feeling? Color's a lot better on you." Tom turned around, that same easy smile on his face, his blue coveralls clean as ever, though the salt stains on the cuffs had spread a little more.

"Much better. Thanks for looking after me." Kaelvorn sat down, his eyes drifting over to the old television in the corner of the room without meaning to. Over these seven days that TV had become his main window into this world. Every morning after Tom left for the water, Kaelvorn flipped it on and pieced this planet together channel by channel. At first it was just scraps. A city news segment mentioning a flying hero in Metropolis, a Gotham vigilante working nights.

The Daily Planet Media logo flashing across a commercial break. Street interviews with regular people arguing about "superheroes" like it was sports talk. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The more he collected, the clearer the picture got. This was almost certainly a DC world. The Justice League kept showing up on the television, which was about as good a confirmation as he was going to get.

The evening news ran regular segments on the League's public operations. Deflecting a meteor, containing a city-level disaster, taking down some high-tech criminal. What bothered Kaelvorn was the timeline. The news kept referring to the League as under two years old, and every member on screen looked way too young for the résumé they supposedly had. The Flash's suit still had that showroom shine to it. Green Lantern kept vanishing on "cosmic assignments."

A few of the League's other heroes left openings during their fights that Kaelvorn could only describe as lethal. He'd say it plainly if anyone asked: at his current assessment, he was fairly confident he could kill more than half the League without taking a scratch. What actually held his attention was Superman.

TV's Superman wore the classic red and blue, the S catching sunlight dead center on his chest, a plume of white air kicking up behind him in flight, and that same warm smile every time he pulled someone out of a burning building. Kaelvorn had run the comparison enough times to be sure. This Superman's eyes were the exact same blue as the man in black who'd caught him out in space. Pure, unfiltered blue. But the two of them didn't carry themselves anywhere near the same.

TV's red-and-blue Superman came across like a golden retriever in human form, all warmth and open trust in people. The one who'd saved him carried something heavier. Steadier. There was a tired, sharp edge tucked behind his eyes that didn't show up easily. Even the warmth in his hand that day had a worn-in gentleness to it, the kind that only comes from having lived through something. Are there seriously two of him? Kaelvorn picked up his soup bowl and used it to cover whatever his face was doing.

Beyond that, there were plenty of details in this world that didn't line up with the comics he half-remembered. The Daily Planet newspaper from the comics had turned into Daily Planet Media here, running a paper alongside multiple TV channels and online platforms. And Superman's girlfriend, Lois Lane, wasn't just a reporter anymore. She anchored Daily Planet Media's evening broadcast.

Seven o'clock sharp every night, she was on screen running through domestic and international news in that clipped, competent voice, occasionally hosting a feature interview on the latest superhero business. Maybe it's not that things don't line up. Maybe it's just... an update? Kaelvorn shook the thought off, a little annoyed at himself for even considering it.

"Going out to patch the nets again today. Surf's been rough lately, gotta get the gear squared away." Tom's voice cut through his thinking. He set his bowl and chopsticks down, grabbed the straw hat off the wall, and turned toward the door. Kaelvorn's eyes tracked Tom's hand as it closed around the hat. Seven days in, and he hadn't once stopped watching this man. Everything about Tom read as a real, dyed-in-the-wool fisherman.

Out on schedule every day, mending gear, sorting the catch when he got back, trading small talk with the neighbor next door. But Kaelvorn's gut kept telling him, over and over, that this man was not what he looked like. Once, he'd deliberately knocked a glass of water over while Tom was working the nets. Tom's reaction had been absurdly fast, snapping around and catching the glass with his back still turned, no line of sight on it at all. For one second Kaelvorn had been almost certain the man was hiding something.

That kind of blunt test never worked twice. And whenever Kaelvorn tried to dig with actual words, Tom slid straight back into gentle, simple fisherman mode. He'd patiently change Kaelvorn's bandages, even though the wound underneath had closed up days ago. He'd bring back fresh catch from the water. He'd sit quietly nearby sorting gear while Kaelvorn watched TV, never once fishing for extra information on his own.

"I'll come with you." Kaelvorn said it before he'd fully decided to. Going out on the boat gave him a better angle to keep watching Tom, and maybe the open water would hand him something new about this world. Tom blinked, then shook his head.

"Not necessary. Wind's rough out there and you're not fully healed. Better off resting inside."

"I'm mostly there already. Sitting in this house all day is making me stir-crazy." Kaelvorn stood, rolled his shoulder, and made sure Tom got a good look at how fluid the motion was.

"I can be useful. Hand you tools, whatever you need. I won't get in the way." Tom studied him for a few seconds, weighing whether he was actually fit for it. Then he nodded.

"Fine. But you stay on the boat, no wandering off, and you hold the rail tight when the swells pick up."

"Okay." Kaelvorn agreed, then let out a short laugh.

"I can fly, you know." Tom looked at him, dead serious, and shook his head.

"Fly up there and what's even the point of fishing. You get too high, you stop being able to read how deep the water actually is." Kaelvorn went still for a second, then watched Tom's back as he walked toward the door, something sharp flashing behind his eyes. Finally. A crack.