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The drive from the small inland Australian airstrip to their destination took only an hour or two across the desert.
It was January—but in the Southern Hemisphere, that ant peak sumr.
The heat was rciless.
Henry had packed for India, not for the Australian interior. Not that it mattered much for him—Kryptonians were unaffected by heat or cold. Clothing was rely social camouflage.
Katie, however, suffered.
Her thick winter coat—ant for snow and subzero wilderness—was utterly unsuited for desert heat. For a tiger built to roam icy forests, arriving suddenly in this climate was like being slow-roasted alive.
She drank enormous amounts of water and wedged herself in front of the SUV's air-conditioning vents, refusing to move.
Outside, the scenery shifted subtly but remained desolate. Endless yellow earth—not cinematic sand dunes, but still barren enough to evoke a deep loneliness.
Henry asked, "Kingo, your friends really chose to live sowhere this… empty?"
"Yes," Kingo replied, a trace of regret in his voice. "I told you—Mahd Wy'ry. Too many centuries of mory and knowledge burden the mind. To reduce strain, life must beco simple. Repetitive."
"…That sounds unbearably lonely," Henry murmured.
After experiencing the stimulation of modern civilization, who could truly return to isolation—growing food, building everything by hand, surrounded by nothing?
It was why Henry, after escaping captivity in this world, hadn't chosen to disappear into Alaska or so frozen nowhere. He had returned to society.
Peaceful environnts did not guarantee peaceful minds.
Sotis they amplified inner spirals.
He knew that firsthand.
Nearly twenty years wasted in stagnation—
Well… the later years hadn't been wasted. They had been worse.
A flicker of darkness rose in his thoughts before Kingo interrupted.
"How lonely could it be? Thena has Gilgash."
Right.
Depression was not cured by silence—it required companionship. Soone to pull you out of quicksand.
"So two of your people live here?" Henry asked.
"Yes. I purchased this land for them."
"You bought it?" Henry blinked.
"Of course. This is modern society. You can't simply claim unoccupied land and build a house."
Fair point.
"They're lucky to have you," Henry said sincerely.
Kingo actually looked embarrassed.
"It's nothing. I simply have more money than most of the others. If they had the ans, they would do the sa."
"So you deliver supplies regularly?"
"Not anymore."
"Why?"
"At first, yes. But eating isn't essential for us. It's habit, not necessity.
"And Thena needs simplicity. Fewer possessions, fewer variables. At first we coordinated what to send. Too much. Too little.
"Eventually Gilgash got tired of the logistics. He told to stop sending anything. He cleared land, grows corn and vegetables. It's enough."
Self-sufficiency.
Henry couldn't decide whether he admired it or feared it.
Suddenly Kingo brightened.
"Look! We're here. See that windmill? The house is near it."
The SUV slowed to a stop.
"We'll walk from here," Kingo said. "No engine noise. No disturbance."
"That's fine."
It felt grounding, walking on actual earth after so much air travel.
Katie, however, refused to exit.
When Henry opened the rear door, a wave of desert heat flooded in. The tiger visibly recoiled in disgust.
Henry grabbed her by the scruff and dragged her out.
"You're not staying inside. Once the engine shuts off, this car becos an oven."
"Rrr."
—Lazy.
"Excuse ?" Henry kicked her lightly. "Who raised you? You dare say 'lazy' in front of ?"
Katie reluctantly followed.
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The hostead was modest to the point of austerity.
A small adobe house.
A barn.
A sun-bleached canopy.
A windmill drawing groundwater upward.
Beneath the surface, however, the plumbing was surprisingly advanced. Water pumped into storage barrels at the windmill's base, then piped into the house. Waste flowed into a subterranean septic system.
Primitive exterior. Practical infrastructure.
Kingo's steps grew lighter as he approached and knocked.
He turned to Henry theatrically.
"Ladies and gentlen, prepare yourselves. The mightiest warrior among the Eternals. The legendary strongman—Gilgash."
The door opened.
Not Ma Dong-seok.
Instead, a towering West Asian man—six-foot-five, roughly 260 pounds, black hair, green eyes. Broader than Henry, radiating sheer physical dominance.
If not for the pink checkered apron he was wearing.
"Kingo," he said flatly. "Who are they?"
"My dear friend," Kingo bead. "This is my steward, Karan Patel. This is Henry Brown—a Kryptonian. And that is Katie."
They say even the toughest n love cats.
Gilgash's stern expression lted instantly at the sight of Katie panting with her tongue out.
"Hello, Katie."
He stepped forward and vigorously ruffled the tiger's head.
Katie had now encountered a second being with absurd physical strength.
Even using all four limbs, she couldn't escape his grip.
Her dignity suffered greatly.
But she was trapped.
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