The air above Metropolis was thick with dust and fear. Under the oppressive weight of the World Engine, the city groaned, a symphony of twisting steel and shattering glass. The colossal Kryptonian machine pulsed with sickening energy, its three legs dug into the earth like metallic parasites, while a gravity beam relentlessly hammered the city, turning the very laws of physics into a weapon.
Floating serenely amidst the chaos was Marcus. He watched the machine with a clinical curiosity, his expression unreadable. With a subtle gesture, the city itself seemed to answer his call. From the skeletons of ruined buildings, rebar twisted and tore free. Cars and buses were ripped from the streets, their metallic hides peeling away like fruit. An avalanche of metal surged into the sky, converging under his silent command.
Countless tons of steel coalesced, compressed, and sharpened into a singular, brutal form: a massive, double-headed axe, suspended high above the World Engine, blotting out the gray sky. Marcus's will was its master, and with a downward slash of his hand, the axe descended.
It came down not with a roar, but with a clang that vibrated through the very soul of the city. Yet, the axe never struck the engine. A wave of liquid-like black matter erupted from the machine's hull, catching the colossal blade. The substance, fluid and malleable, acted as a perfect shield, absorbing the kinetic force of the attack completely.
The World Engine was not some mindless terraformer; it was a weapon of conquest, designed to pacify worlds as much as reshape them. Any assault would trigger its formidable defenses.
"As expected of Krypton," Marcus murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. "Even a civilization on the brink of collapse possessed technology that would give Darkseid pause. Truly impressive."
This initial strike was never meant to succeed. It was a probe, a simple test to gauge the machine's capabilities. And the test had yielded results: the seemingly liquid defense was incredibly resilient.
"Let's see what else you can do," he mused aloud.
As the words left his lips, the massive axe dissolved. Under his control, the metal reshaped itself, flowing into the form of gigantic, metallic serpents. Their bodies, cobbled together from scrap and steel, writhed through the air, scales of rusted metal grinding as they lunged toward the World Engine.
The machine's response was immediate. The black liquid defense fragmented, morphing into an army of writhing tentacles that lashed out to meet the charge. The serpents and tentacles collided in a chaotic mid-air battle, the sharp, metallic teeth of the pythons tearing at the fluid limbs of the machine's guardians.
Watching the swirling chaos, Marcus's lips curled into a smirk. He could have ended this more directly, but he was wary of unleashing the full power of the Power Stone so close to the engine. He had no desire to accidentally destroy the Kryptonian power source within it.
His other hand clenched into a fist. Far below, the ground shook violently. The massive mechanical legs supporting the World Engine screamed in protest as an invisible, irresistible force twisted them into mangled shapes. Fused with the Power Stone, Marcus's control over magnetism was absolute, magnified to a cosmic scale.
The sudden, crippling blow to the engine's support structure sent its internal systems into a panic. The black tentacles disengaged from the metallic serpents, retreating to defend the main body. The machine's logic was clear: eliminate the source of the magnetic attack, and the threat would be neutralized. The entire mass of black liquid surged through the air, a tidal wave of alien matter aimed directly at Marcus.
But it stopped dead halfway, rippling and distorting as if hitting an invisible wall. From the ground, it looked as though the air itself had warped, creating a distorted lens that trapped the black substance within a powerful magnetic field.
U.S. Northern Command, Cheyenne Mountain Complex
"General, we have a new development!" a technician yelled, his voice strained with disbelief. On the main holographic display, the virtual model of Earth showed a massive, anomalous energy field blooming over Metropolis. It was completely overwhelming the readings from the World Engine.
"It's a magnetic field of impossible intensity," another analyst reported. "It's… it's twisting the terraformer's support legs. The machine is destabilizing."
"Get me a visual on Metropolis, now!" Dr. Emil Hamilton commanded, his heart pounding. A flicker of hope ignited within him. "I want to see what's happening."
A moment later, a live satellite feed filled the screen. The image silenced the entire command center. There, floating high above the city, was a lone figure. Around him, colossal serpents of twisted metal battled black, writhing tentacles. The very air around him seemed to bend and shimmer with raw power.
"Who… who is that?" the General whispered, echoing the thoughts of everyone in the room. They had contingency plans for alien invasions, rogue metahumans, even for Superman himself. They had nothing for this. The sheer scale of power on display was humbling, terrifying, and utterly beyond their comprehension.
While the military personnel stared in shock, Dr. Hamilton was already at his console, frantically cross-referencing data streams. "This is impossible. It's unscientific!" he exclaimed, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "I can understand the physics behind the terraforming devices altering Earth's gravity, but this… how can one man control a magnetic field with such precision and force?"
He knew of Superman's incredible abilities, but manipulating magnetism on this level was something else entirely. This wasn't just a superpower; it was the casual command of a fundamental force of the universe.
As they watched, the figure on the screen made his next move. The magnetic field containing the black liquid intensified, and the substance began to smoke and spark, its very composition being forcibly altered, magnetized.
"Enough playing around," Marcus's voice, though unspoken, seemed to carry a clear intent across the battlefield. "Time to end this."
He flicked his fingers as if plucking invisible harp strings. In an instant, the trapped black matter and the giant metallic pythons disintegrated into a storm of magnetized particles, which then began to swirl around him, forming a massive, glittering ring.
"Krypton," Marcus mused, his eyes on the crippled World Engine. "Even in death, your legacy is formidable." He had never seen the planet in its prime, but its technology spoke volumes. Darkseid himself had considered Krypton a significant threat, a testament to its former glory
A glorious, yet flawed, civilization. They were warned of their planet's doom but did nothing, perishing in the apocalypse they refused to prevent. This same rigid, unyielding mindset was embodied in General Zod. Born and bred to be a protector of Krypton, his goal wasn't simple conquest; it was resurrection. He sought to erase humanity and transform Earth into a new Krypton, the only purpose for which he was made.
"This World Engine," Marcus reasoned, "was likely a common piece of equipment back home." It stood to reason that for two to have survived the planet's destruction, countless more must have existed.
He waved his hand. The swirling storm of magnetized metal and alien matter descended, enveloping the World Engine like a grinder. The machine's gravity waves, which had moments before been powerful enough to reshape a planet, were now utterly useless. The colossal hull was torn apart, shredded into millions of pieces that were immediately absorbed into the swirling vortex.
Slowly, the storm began to shrink, the gravity waves weakening and then vanishing completely. The grinding noise subsided, replaced by an intense hum as Marcus compressed the entire mass—the engine, its defenses, and the metal he had summoned—with his magnetic power. The pressure became infinite, collapsing the storm into a single point before solidifying.
When it was over, all that remained was a massive, perfectly smooth sphere of black metal hanging silently in the air, reflecting Marcus's image on its flawless surface.
"There. All done," he said with a satisfied smile. The sphere appeared pristine, but within its compressed form lay the heart of the World Engine, its gravity-altering core and Kryptonian power source. "This will make a fine upgrade for the Railjack Dark Aster. An engine that can modify a planet's gravity… the possibilities are endless."
He reached out, placing a hand on the giant sphere. Void energy began to flow from his palm, ready to drain the Kryptonian technology of its power and secrets.
Just as he began, a volley of brilliant energy cannons erupted from the clouds, streaking directly toward him. The attack came from the Kryptonian command ship. Aboard, General Zod and his crew were incandescent with rage. They had worked for years to find this world and set up their engines, and this unknown had destroyed one in minutes. With their hopes for a new Krypton shattered, they held nothing back, aiming every weapon at him.
But their rage was futile. The energy blasts, powerful as they were, bent and warped as they entered Marcus's magnetic field, converging on his outstretched hand. In seconds, the combined firepower of a Kryptonian warship was condensed into a small, searingly bright ball of pure energy cradled in his palm.
"A spaceship bombardment?" Marcus chuckled. "How thoughtful. Thankfully, the Railjack Dark Aster weapons systems are still operational."
He looked to the heavens and called out to Will on the ship, hidden in the void beyond Earth's atmosphere.
A low hum filled the air, and then reality itself seemed to tear open. From the rift emerged a vessel of staggering size, a behemoth of black metal and glowing golden filigree. It was an impossibly massive ship that dwarfed the Kryptonian vessel, casting a shadow that swallowed half of Metropolis.
"You're not the only ones with a spaceship," Marcus's voice boomed across the sky. "Will, say hello."
On his command, weapon emplacements opened all along the black ship's hull. A torrent of golden energy gathered within the cannons.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With each roar, lances of incandescent light tore across the sky, enveloping the Kryptonian ship. Kryptonian technology was advanced, but Zod's vessel was a repurposed prison barge, not a frontline warship. It stood no chance. The Railjack Dark Aster's cannons, built with superior Orokin technology, shredded its shields and hull, causing massive explosions to ripple across its surface.[
Bruce and Selina watched the events unfold, their faces pale with shock. They knew their former teacher was powerful and mysterious, but this was beyond anything they could have ever imagined.
"Is… is that his spaceship?" Selina breathed, her eyes wide as she stared at the colossal Railjack Dark Aster.
"So that's where he's been all these years," Bruce murmured, a storm of conflicting emotions warring within him. He and Selina had searched for any trace of their master for years, but found nothing. Now they knew why. He wasn't on Earth.
"But how?" Selina asked, turning to him. "A ship bigger and more powerful than the Kryptonians'? The armor he wore… could he be an alien, too?"
"I don't think so," Bruce replied, though his voice lacked conviction. "He's always been… different. More protective of humanity than any alien I could imagine. He seems to be helping Superman, in his own way." He remembered the kindness Marcus had shown them, the life-extending potion he had given Alfred that kept the old butler healthy to this day. But that kindness was now juxtaposed with a terrifying, world-shattering power.
"But where else could he get something like that?" Selina pressed. "If he's not an alien, then who builds a spaceship like that in secret?"
"If he wanted us to know, he would have told us," Bruce said, trying to reassure Selina, and perhaps himself. "What matters is that he isn't our enemy. Is he?"
The question hung in the air. For twenty years, Marcus had been a guiding light in Bruce's dark world, the standard against which he measured himself. The thought of facing him as an adversary was paralyzing. He had plans to defeat every hero and villain he knew of, contingencies for every possibility. But this… how do you plan for a man who commands a warship that eclipses the sky?
He looked up at the screen, at the image of the man he once called 'teacher', floating amidst the wreckage of alien technology, and his eyes filled with a desperate hope.
"Teacher… I hope you haven't changed," Bruce whispered to himself.
The thought was followed by a wave of utter helplessness. He couldn't even comprehend the strength his teacher possessed two decades ago. Now, that power had clearly grown to a godlike level. What could he possibly do? To defeat an enemy, you must first understand their weaknesses.
But in all his memories, his teacher had no flaws he could exploit. A real fight between them would be meaningless. Marcus wouldn't even have to try. The gap between them wasn't a gap. It was a chasm.