The air on the Kent farm was thick with the smell of churned earth and ozone. Marcus stood calmly amidst the splintered wood of the porch and the upturned soil of the fields, his gaze fixed on the armored Kryptonian general.
"You are exiles," Marcus stated, his voice quiet but carrying an undeniable finality. "You should accept your new status. Earth is not, and will never be, your territory."
He glanced at General Zod, whose jaw was clenched so tightly it seemed the metal of his helmet might groan in protest. Before the general could snarl a reply, a crimson and blue blur tore through the air, accompanied by a deafening sonic boom. Clark, his face a mask of raw, protective fury, slammed into Zod, his mind consumed by a singular, terrifying thought: his parents. He grabbed the general and rocketed toward the horizon, a streak of uncontrolled power.
"That boy..." Marcus sighed, a flicker of exasperation in his eyes as he shook his head. "He possesses all the power in the world, yet he has so much to learn about true combat. I am standing right here, and still, he lets fear cloud his judgment."
Marcus understood the storm raging inside Clark. The thought of Jonathan and Martha being harmed had burned away every lesson, every ounce of discipline, leaving only the raw, desperate instinct to protect. But such a reckless charge was a liability.
With a simple, fluid gesture, Marcus wove his hands through the air. In an instant, two shimmering, orange portals ripped open in the sky. One materialized directly in Clark's path, the other a few hundred feet away, facing the first. Clark, still clutching Zod, shot into the first portal and was immediately ejected from the second, only to be flung straight back into the first in a disorienting, high-speed loop. The sound of his repeated sonic booms echoed like cannon fire across the plains.
It was a fundamental technique, a simple spatial lock that any proficient mage from Kamar-Taj could perform, yet it was more than enough to halt the Kryptonian's blind rampage.
"Do not forget what I have taught you, Clark!" Marcus's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and clear as a ringing bell.
The words pierced through Clark's panic, grounding him in the chaotic present. He's right. Marcus is here. He's on the farm. Zod can't possibly get past him to hurt Mom and Dad. The realization washed over him, dousing the flames of his fear with the cool water of reason.
Boom!
His mind clear, Clark regained control. As he and Zod tumbled out of the looping portals, he twisted his body, channeling all his strength and focus not into a wild haymaker, but into a precise, devastating strike he had practiced a thousand times. He unleashed the Rolling Gale a core technique of the Crushing Ruin Marcus had taught him. The impact didn't just connect; it sent a visible ripple through the air. The ground below them buckled, and a massive sandstorm erupted, blasting outwards in all directions.
"Hah..."
With a soft sigh, Marcus gestured dismissively, and the raging dust storm instantly dissipated, falling back to the earth as if it had never been stirred. He looked at Clark, who was breathing heavily, and shook his head again, this time with a hint of disappointment.
"You are only at the beginning, Clark. Your control over your power is still far too rudimentary." His internal thought was sharper. If he had truly mastered the technique, that single blow would have sent a resonant frequency through Zod's armor, shattering it from the inside out. Instead, he just knocked him down. A wasted opportunity.
To be fair, Clark's own bio-electric field was becoming so overwhelmingly powerful that it often interfered with the delicate vibrational control needed for the Rolling Gale to be truly effective. His raw strength was a crutch, allowing him to overpower most opponents without needing finesse. At this stage, only Marcus and the other Kryptonian survivors could even force him to try.
Clark's face flushed with shame at his godfather's critique. He knew the theory behind the Rolling Gale by heart, yet in the heat of the moment, he had reverted to using it as just a stronger punch. He felt like a student who had failed a simple test.
Determined to prove himself, Clark planted his feet and raised his arms. The ground trembled as the surrounding rubble—splintered wood, shattered rocks, and twisted metal—lifted into the air. A howling vortex of wind erupted around him, pulling the debris into a swirling, grinding mass. It coalesced, forming a colossal, serpentine monster—a python made of pure kinetic force and wreckage. With a deafening roar of scraping stone and shrieking metal, the stone python shot towards Zod.
What is this? Zod, staggering to his feet, stared in disbelief. He had studied the data on Kal-El. He knew about the immense power he drew from Earth's yellow sun—flight, strength, speed. But this... this was something else entirely. This was the controlled manipulation of the environment, a power he had never seen a Kryptonian wield. How had he learned to do this?
Zod had no time for answers. He met the charging stone python with a powerful right cross. The impact was immense, creating a blinding white shockwave that pulsed outwards. But the Rolling Gale was more than a single projectile. As Zod was occupied with shattering the head of the python, Clark was already moving.
Boom!
The instant the debris monster dissipated, Clark was on him, his own fist connecting with Zod's jaw. The general was sent flying, tumbling end over end through the air. This was the true art of the fighting style Marcus had taught him: combining ranged, environmental attacks with close-quarters combat to create openings. Brute force against brute force was a stalemate. But this was a dance of destruction.
Their fists met again, a thunderous clap that sent another visible surge of energy racing across the landscape.
Watching from the porch, Marcus calmly raised a hand, palm open. As the shockwave reached him, he simply closed his fist, and the entire force of the impact was drawn into his grasp, condensing into a small, brilliantly white orb of pure kinetic energy.
"Huh. A bit like Sebastian's old trick," he mused to himself. The ability to absorb and redirect energy, a core function of the Power Stone he wielded, always reminded him of Sebastian Shaw. That memory was a bitter one. Marcus had been weaker then, and Shaw had absorbed the energy of a nuclear reactor. In the end, defeating him had unleashed that same energy, killing Marcus in the process and forcing his rebirth in the Void. This was a pale imitation of that power, but formidable nonetheless.
Marcus could wield the Power Stone in any universe because his Void powers acted as a universal bridge. In Marvel's rules, Infinity Stones are bound to the physics of their home reality, inert when removed from it. But the Void was different — it was not a universe, but the chaotic medium between all of them, a realm of raw potential that resonated across every timeline and dimension. By channeling his consciousness through the Void, Marcus supplied the missing "cosmic signature" the Stone needed, tricking it into believing it still operated under the laws of its original Big Bang. Where others would hold a dead crystal, Marcus carried a fully awakened weapon, the Power Stone's energy harmonized and stabilized by his Void aura.
Tossing the glowing energy ball from hand to hand, Marcus continued to observe the battle. Thanks to his training, Clark was not being overwhelmed as he might have been. In fact, he was more than holding his own. Using the principles of the Crushing Ruin, he could turn Zod's strength against him, deflecting blows and creating openings. He was dominating three trained Kryptonian soldiers by himself.
The battlefield had become a maelstrom. The powerful winds Clark generated swept debris into deadly projectiles, forcing Zod and his soldiers to stay constantly on the defensive. Combined with precise, searing blasts of heat vision that kept them off balance, Clark had turned the tables completely. They had the numbers, but he had the momentum.
Meanwhile, Zod's frustration grew. Kryptonian technology was a marvel, but he and his soldiers were warriors, not scientists. Their genetic coding dictated their function. For years, every piece of Kryptonian tech they had salvaged had been turned over to the ship's lone researcher. While brilliant, that one scientist couldn't compare to the genius of Jor-El and was still working to restore their full technological might.
With a roar of frustration, Zod met Clark's next punch. The boy's skill was surprising, but Zod was a general, bred for war, and he had yet to unleash his full capabilities. With a single, explosive punch, he shattered Clark's newly formed stone python. Then, his form blurred. In the blink of an eye, he seemed to split into three identical figures, surrounding Clark in an instant. It wasn't a clone; it was the advanced technology of his battlesuit pushing his speed to its absolute limit, creating tangible after-images.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three concussive blows landed on Clark's body almost simultaneously, driving the air from his lungs. He braced himself, the memory of his time on Zod's ship flashing in his mind. The helplessness he'd felt as the Kryptonian atmosphere stripped away his powers was a chilling reminder of his vulnerability. He had no doubt that Zod, as the ship's commander, could replicate that effect.
The fight raged, turning the idyllic farmland into a cratered wasteland. The constant, thunderous impacts must have registered on every seismograph in the state, because soon, the flashing lights of a police car appeared down the long country road. It screeched to a halt at the edge of the farm, and a woman scrambled out. Lois.
Her escape from Zod's ship had been a nightmare of evasions and near-misses. She'd almost made it before a blast from the mothership had blown her escape pod's engine, sending her into a fatal, fiery plummet. Clark had caught her mid-air, his protective bio-field cushioning her from the deadly deceleration. Anyone else would have been killed by the rescue itself, but Clark's unique biology protected those he held close.
The sight of the human woman galvanized the other Kryptonians. They were struggling against Kal-El, but if they could capture her, his strength would become meaningless.
Before they could make a move, a streak of white light shot from Marcus's hand. It wasn't an attack, but a shield. The orb of kinetic energy he had been holding expanded in an instant, forming a shimmering, protective dome around Lois just as the Kryptonians charged. They slammed into the barrier and were sent flying, repelled by the very force of the punches they had thrown earlier.
Lois stared in astonishment, her heart pounding. One moment she was vulnerable, the next she was encased in a strange, silent energy field that effortlessly deflected super-powered soldiers.
Seeing that Lois was safe, a wave of relief washed over Clark, and his focus sharpened to a razor's edge. With no need to worry about collateral damage, he could finally unleash the full potential of his training. He moved with a newfound grace and precision, his strikes carrying the full, destructive force of the Shattering Punch. Powerful blasts of focused air and massive chunks of debris bombarded Zod relentlessly.
"Good. Much better," Marcus commented quietly, a flicker of approval in his eyes. He turned his attention back to Lois, ensuring the shield held strong. "A few more fights like this, and he'll be ready."
The battle escalated, Clark and Zod becoming living cannonballs, their collisions in mid-air sending thunderous peals across the Kansas sky.
"I am General Zod of Krypton!" he roared, his voice amplified by his helmet. "My sole purpose is to protect my people. No one will stand in my way!" He poured every last ounce of power into his suit's propulsion systems, launching himself at Clark like a missile.
With a final, desperate cry, Zod's fist met Clark's.
The resulting explosion of sound was deafening. A dome of white light expanded from the point of impact, flattening what was left of the barn and cornfields. Zod was blasted backward at incredible speed, but Clark staggered, crying out in pain.
In that final punch, Zod had done more than just hit him; he had vented the concentrated Kryptonian atmosphere from within his suit. The blow sent Zod reeling, but the toxic gas enveloped Clark, searing his lungs and weakening him instantly.
Both men were severely injured. Zod's injuries, however, were compounded by a critical failure. The force of the impact had shattered his helmet and ruptured the seals on his armor. Like his lieutenant, Faora, he was now fully exposed to Earth's environment.
The sensory overload was instantaneous and absolute. Agonizing pain shot through every nerve ending as his body, accustomed to the controlled environment of the ship, was assaulted by unfiltered solar radiation and Earth's atmosphere. He felt as if he were being torn apart from the inside out. He never imagined the world that empowered Kal-El could be so agonizing.
"You feel it now, don't you?" Clark rasped, struggling to his feet. "I felt that and worse on your ship." He remembered the crushing helplessness, a pain so profound it bordered on despair.
But Zod barely heard him. His mind was screaming, trying to process the flood of new information. His vision swam, and then a strange, terrifying thing happened. The world became transparent. He could see through his own hands, the flesh and blood a translucent film over the stark white of his bones. He was seeing everything, every frequency of light, every layer of matter, and he had no idea how to stop it.
Suddenly, two searing energy beams lanced down from the sky, striking Clark and knocking him unconscious. A Kryptonian dropship descended, its ramp already lowering. Soldiers rushed out, efficiently retrieving their injured general, Faora, and the others. Within seconds, they were back on board and ascending into the clouds.
Marcus watched them go, making no move to intervene. This was Clark's trial by fire, not his. Besides, he was morbidly curious to see Krypton's legendary World Engine in action.
Aboard the Black Zero, Zod and the others recovered quickly in the ship's Kryptonian environment. As the general's senses stabilized, his science officer delivered the news.
"General. We have analyzed the planetary scans and located the Codex. We have the chamber."
Zod's pain subsided, replaced by a cold, unwavering resolve. They could begin.
As for the billions of lives on the planet below? They were irrelevant.