Naruto Multiverse

The vivid horror of Clark's nightmare clung to him like a dark fog as he sat bolt upright on the cold floor of his bedroom. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with the echoes of the despair that had consumed him moments ago. His mind raced to process the grim images—the accusing tone of Lois's voice, the blood seeping from her abdomen, and the searing hatred in her dying eyes.

It felt so real.

Clark turned his head sharply to the bed, his heart pounding as if trying to escape his chest. Lois lay peacefully, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep. Her serene expression contrasted sharply with the torment he had just experienced. Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed against her cheek. Her skin was warm, her heartbeat steady. The reality of her life grounded him. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him weak.

Clark dropped to his knees, unable to hold himself upright any longer. His head rested on the edge of the bed as a smile of overwhelming gratitude spread across his face. "She's okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "She's okay."

But even as relief settled in, a nagging doubt lingered at the edges of his thoughts. He couldn't dismiss the nightmare entirely. The memory of their recent capture was still fresh, the chains of magical restraints and the burning ship vivid in his mind. The nightmare wasn't a fabrication born of fear—it was tied to something real.

Who saved us? Clark wondered, the question gnawing at his thoughts. He recalled the hazy memory of freedom, the vague sensation of being transported to safety. It wasn't his doing. Someone else had intervened, someone powerful enough to undo their captors' magic and ensure their escape.

Clark steadied himself and stood, his legs still shaky. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Lois's cheek, a silent promise to protect her. As he turned to leave, her breathing hitched slightly, but she didn't wake. He paused for a moment to watch her, committing her peaceful form to memory before he quietly left the room.

The hallway was dimly lit, and the soft padding of his footsteps echoed faintly. His mind churned with questions as he made his way to the balcony. From there, he launched himself into the sky, the cool night air washing over him as he ascended toward the Watchtower.

The stars stretched out in an endless expanse above him, but Clark's focus was elsewhere. I need answers, he thought, his resolve hardening. Whoever had saved them had done so with precision and power. It wasn't a coincidence, and it wasn't random. He needed to understand what had happened—and more importantly, who was behind it.

The Watchtower came into view, its familiar silhouette against the dark void of space. Clark landed smoothly and strode toward the control center. The hum of the station surrounded him as he logged in and began searching through the logs, scanning for any anomalies, signals, or signs of intervention.

Whoever you are... thank you, he thought, determination burning in his eyes. But I need to know why—and what comes next.

In the heart of the Justice League's meeting room, the air was thick with tension. The iconic round table was surrounded by its members, save for a few absent faces. The sudden and mysterious disappearance of Superman and Supergirl had thrown the League into turmoil. Though Superman was now safely back, his unexplained rescue and Supergirl's continued absence left more questions than answers.

Zatanna sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. "I've tried every magical trace I know. There's nothing. It's like he vanished into thin air."

"Don't let it frustrate you," Batman said, his gravelly voice cutting through the room. "In fact, you've just given us the answer." His tone was calm, measured, but those who knew him well could sense the undercurrent of tension in his words. "It's the Guardian."

"The Guardian?" Clark asked, his voice laced with both curiosity and skepticism. He leaned forward, searching Batman's face for clarity.

"Who else could it be?" Batman replied, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the room. "The Guardian operates in the shadows, has resources we can't trace, and has helped us discreetly in the past. This has their signature all over it."

The name sent a ripple through the room. The Guardian was an enigma, a figure who seemed to exist in the periphery of their battles, offering aid in critical moments but never stepping fully into the light. For some, he was a figure of gratitude; for others, a source of wariness.

"I still don't fully trust them," Green Arrow muttered, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "Shadowy figures who show up and disappear aren't exactly comforting."

"It's not about trust," Batman countered, his tone cutting. "It's about results. And the Guardian's results speak for themselves."

Before the argument could escalate, Martian Manhunter interjected. "While Superman's safe, I've scanned the League. Supergirl is also missing."

A wave of alarm swept through the room, and Clark's head shot up. "What?" His voice was low but heavy with concern. "Why didn't anyone say something earlier?"

"I only just confirmed it," J'onn replied, his voice calm yet sympathetic. "It seems she was taken around the same time you were, though the specifics are unclear."

Clark ran a hand through his hair, struggling to keep his composure. He had only just processed his own ordeal, and now this. "She must have been hurt. That's the only reason the Guardian would take her," he muttered, his voice tinged with worry and self-reproach.

Diana stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Clark's shoulder. "The Guardian is no enemy, Kal. He's blessed by the Earth herself. If he has her, she's in the best hands possible. Trust that she will be safe."

Clark nodded slowly, but his heart was heavy. "I hope so," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Because if not... Clark's thoughts took a darker turn, and for a fleeting moment, anger boiled to the surface. He clenched his fists tightly beneath the table, steeling himself. If not, I'll destroy everyone involved. The ferocity of the thought startled even him, and he glanced around the room, silently praying that J'onn hadn't caught it.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, each member grappling with their own thoughts. They were heroes, yes, but the mysteries surrounding the Guardian had left them feeling powerless—a sensation they were not accustomed to. For now, all they could do was wait and hope that their shadowy ally would deliver Kara back to them safely.

Naruto stood amidst the swirling energies of his chakra, the floral-patterned sword forged from neutron star material floating lazily around him. It was a work of unprecedented craftsmanship, combining natural celestial power with the precision of his mind. The sword gleamed with an ethereal glow, exuding an aura that felt as ancient as the stars themselves.

"Who would have thought?" Naruto murmured, a faint smile on his lips as he admired the weapon. "A blade forged from neutron star material... I can't believe I never considered it before."

Kurama's voice echoed within his mind, calm yet tinged with amusement. "You've always relied on your own strength, not tools. Weapons have always been an afterthought to you."

Naruto nodded. "True. But now that I've realized its potential, I'll make sure we're fully prepared. I'll replicate the material and forge not only better weapons for myself but also equipment for the girls. I won't leave them defenseless."

Kurama huffed in approval, his tone turning serious. "That's a good start. But don't just focus on raw materials with physical strength. Seek out substances with unique properties—those that can counteract the more esoteric threats. This world, and many others, are crawling with beings whose powers can't always be met with brute force alone."

Naruto chuckled softly, his golden chakra cloak shimmering. "You're right, as always. We may not be at the top yet, but I'll make sure no one stands above me when the time comes. Anyone who poses a threat to my family will find themselves crushed under my heel."

As his words hung in the air, a flicker of old pain crossed his mind. Memories long buried tried to resurface, but they only caused a dull ache. Naruto instinctively reached for his head, his grin faltering for a moment.

"My head..." he muttered under his breath. "Am I blocking something? Memories I don't want to remember?"

He shook off the thought as his gaze shifted to Kara, floating in front of him. Encased in a cocoon of golden chakra, her fragile form radiated warmth yet seemed so small and vulnerable. The dense energy swirled protectively around her, ensuring her safety and accelerating her healing. The tattered remnants of her costume had long since been consumed by the restorative energy, leaving her barely visible within the golden glow.

Naruto's eyes softened as he regarded her. He could feel the turbulence in her heart, the insecurities that plagued her mind. Kara was a survivor, a child carrying the weight of her world's destruction on her shoulders.

"She's strong," Naruto mused, "but she's still a child. She's trying to save a world she barely understands, driven by the memories of her lost home. It's admirable... but also tragic."

A fleeting pang of empathy struck him. He recognized her struggle because, in many ways, it mirrored his own. The destruction of his village, the loss of his loved ones, the relentless fight to protect what remained—it was a burden he knew all too well.

"She deserves some peace," Naruto murmured. With a thought, he crafted a dream for her—a world untainted by corruption, a place where hope and joy thrived. In this ideal vision of Earth, Kara could find solace, if only for a while.

As the dream took hold and her breathing steadied, Naruto's expression turned contemplative. "It's the duty of those who've walked the path before to guide the next generation. Jiraiya, Hiruzen... you both believed that, and so do I."

Closing his eyes, Naruto let his consciousness delve deeper, entering the golden cocoon where Kara's mind lay vulnerable. In this sacred space, he would ensure her recovery—not just of her body, but of her spirit. It was the least he could do for someone so young, so burdened, and yet so willing to fight for a world she believed in.