Superman in Marvel: Multiverse Ascendant

A new day had arrived.

After the rain, the sky cleared, sunlight spilling across the land. Leon soared through the sky, racing toward the battlefield.

It was his second time flying to Afghanistan, and by now, the route was familiar.

In just a few minutes, he overtook more than a dozen Boeing planes.

Leon hovered high above, gazing down at the blue world beneath the clouds.

His eyes darted from target to target, scanning with precision far beyond any radar.

By the time he reached Afghanistan, night had already fallen. Most of the Ten Rings' bases were under martial law, their members preparing to rest.

But some terrorists, ever ruthless, prowled the villages, preying on civilians under the cover of darkness.

Leon set his sights on them first.

"You're up first."

He spotted two armed men kicking in the door of a civilian home.

Tilting his body, he plummeted downward.

His bio-force field allowed him to descend in complete silence—like a specter of death.

When he landed, he dispersed the force field, and the ground beneath his feet cracked outward like a spiderweb. A dull shockwave echoed through the night.

The two terrorists, caught mid-kick, whirled around, rifles at the ready. They saw Leon's strange outfit and immediately cursed at him.

"Dari? Are you Iranian or Tajik?" Leon asked in fluent Dari.

He had studied most of Earth's major languages in recent days and easily understood their swearing.

But the men showed no sign of fear—only hostility. One even raised his rifle toward Leon's head.

Leon sighed. "So, no room for conversation? Fine."

"Goodbye."

With a swift motion, he grabbed both men by the neck, lifting them effortlessly.

A sharp crack echoed in the night. Their bodies went limp.

Leon let them drop and turned to leave, but a thought struck him.

He glanced back at the family inside the house, huddled together in silence.

A typical Pashtun family.

The elderly father had a full beard, sunken eyes, and cracked lips.

The mother and her two daughters wore long, traditional gowns in shades of brown and orange—distinctive Pashtun attire.

They trembled with fear, saying nothing. The mother clutched her daughters protectively, shielding their faces.

"You don't need to worry about what happens next."

Leon spoke in Pashto, Afghanistan's official language. "It's late. Go back to sleep. By morning, all the terrorists nearby will be gone."

With that, he turned and ascended into the night sky, scanning for his next target.

"Please—wait!"

A small, trembling voice called out.

Leon paused.

The youngest daughter had spoken.

She was no older than seven or eight, her wide eyes peeking from behind her mother's arm. Despite her fear, she pried herself free and spoke timidly.

"Are you… Superman?"

Leon blinked.

The uniform he had designed, the red cape, the way he had appeared just in time—all of it must have seemed straight out of a movie.

He hadn't expected Hollywood's cultural reach to extend even here, to a war-torn Afghan village.

Then again, before the conflict escalated, there had been a time when Afghanistan had its share of entertainment.

He smiled. "Not exactly, but you can call me that if you want."

The girl hesitated, then asked, "So… you're here to help us? Like in the movies, when Superman beats up the bad guys?"

Leon was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Yes. I'm here to make sure they never hurt you again."

The girl's face lit up with joy. "Superman, you're amazing!"

Before her mother could stop her, she ran toward Leon, arms outstretched, aiming to hug his leg.

Leon chuckled softly, kneeling down to gently stop her. "What's your name?"

"Shafika! Shafika Mazari!"

"Alright, Shafika. Listen to me." He placed a finger lightly on her forehead. "Go back inside, lie down, and have a good dream. When you wake up tomorrow, all the bad guys will be gone. Okay?"

But Shafika hesitated. "Are you leaving, Superman?"

Leon ruffled her hair. "Shafika… next time, don't talk to strangers so easily, alright? And always listen to your mother."

With that, he stepped back, then shot into the sky, vanishing into the clouds with a sonic boom.

Shafika and her family rushed outside, staring into the darkness, their faces filled with awe.

"Thank God… he really is Superman." The old father made a gesture of blessing.

That night, for the first time in a long time, the family looked forward to the morning.

—

Leon moved quickly, wiping out every terrorist cell in Afghanistan that had been harassing civilians.

Each time, he arrived, threw a single punch, and left.

Every encounter was over in a second.

The entire operation took no more than ten minutes.

With the scattered insurgents dealt with, it was time to destroy the main base.

A normal military strategy would involve taking out smaller outposts first, gradually wearing down the enemy.

But Leon wasn't here for strategy.

His first target was the largest Ten Rings stronghold.

Flying high above, his cape billowed in the wind.

From this height, he spotted more than seventy men patrolling the perimeter.

Through his X-ray vision, he counted over 4,000 combatants asleep inside the base.

And then, he saw something else.

Inside one of the tents, a Jericho missile stood ready.

Leon's eyes narrowed.

That was Stark Tech—one of Tony's most devastating weapon designs. A single strike from it could flatten a mountain.

"How the hell did a Jericho missile end up here?" Leon muttered.

He knew Tony was riddled with guilt over his company's past arms deals, but seeing this firsthand still left a bad taste in his mouth.

Shaking his head, Leon pulled out his phone.

"Jarvis," he said, "record everything I see and send it to Tony after the battle."

"Understood, Master Leon. Camera feed activated."

"Good. And make sure every Stark weapon I come across is photographed in detail."

Tonight, he was going to make sure Tony Stark had plenty of sleepless nights.

With that, Leon descended.

This time, he made no effort to hide his approach.

Like a meteor, he plummeted toward the Ten Rings compound, flames igniting around him from the sheer speed.

"BOOM!"

The impact shook the ground, a deafening shockwave rolling through the base.

Sirens blared.

Shouts of "Enemy attack!" rang out as terrorists scrambled in panic.

Leon stood in the center of the chaos, eyes glowing red.

The moment a hostile appeared, he unleashed his heat vision, cutting them down in an instant.

Before the battle even truly began, half of the camp's forces had been wiped out.

Some fighters, only just woken from sleep, screamed in terror.

"Monster! Monster!"

Others turned their weapons on their own men in blind panic.

But those who remained had no intention of going down without a fight.

They ducked behind cover, pulling out everything they had—grenades, RPGs, tank missiles, and even the Jericho missile itself.

A desperate last stand.

Leon cracked his knuckles.

"Let's see how that works out for you."

...

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