Bruce felt untethered, adrift in a reality that no longer made sense. He was a man who had mastered fear and molded himself into the pinnacle of human achievement, yet in this moment, he felt as small and bewildered as a lost child. The scale of power on display before him was rewriting every rule he had ever known.
Boom!
The sky itself seemed to tear open. Several dark figures, little more than blurs of motion, descended from the heavens, slamming into the air around Marcus with devastating force. They were the Kryptonians, and the sheer power of their arrival was made visible, manifesting as a concussive shockwave that rippled through the air and slammed into the surrounding skyscrapers. Windows shattered a dozen blocks away, and the ground trembled under Bruce and Selina's feet.
"Well," Selina muttered, her voice tight as she braced herself against a shuddering ledge, "this is going to be a problem."
She and Bruce were formidable, apex predators in their own world. But this was something else entirely. Their combat suits, marvels of human engineering, felt like toys compared to the raw, unbridled strength of these aliens. The Kryptonians punched the air, and the city itself felt the blow. That single, terrifying fact left them both reeling.
Yet, for all their world-breaking power, Marcus didn't even flinch. He floated serenely, an island of calm in a sea of chaos. The Kryptonians, led by a grim-faced Zod, were suddenly and violently repelled, thrown back into the sky as if launched from an invisible catapult. Their velocity increased exponentially, turning them into streaks of light disappearing into the upper atmosphere.
Marcus had effortlessly woven the magnetic fields around him into a massive, invisible slingshot. It didn't just block Zod's coordinated assault; it weaponized their own momentum against them, deflecting their attack and launching them into the cold vacuum of space.
"You are far too weak," Marcus's voice echoed, not through sound, but as a direct, unimpressed thought in their minds.
As he spoke, the metallic debris from the destroyed streets below—shards of cars, girders, and lampposts—rose into the air. With a flick of his wrist, it all coalesced into countless streaks of silver light, sharp as needles, and shot upwards after the ascending Kryptonians. These weren't random projectiles; each one was a guided missile of magnetized shrapnel aimed with surgical precision.
Marcus knew these newly empowered Kryptonians were a match for Clark at his current level, but that wasn't a high bar. He recalled his sparring sessions with his godson—neither of them had worn their armor, and he had held back immensely. Now, clad in his Void-forged warframe, he could annihilate Zod and his followers without a second thought.
Still, a part of him was curious. He wanted to see just how much power an adult Kryptonian could absorb from a yellow sun. The silver shards weren't meant to be lethal. They were designed for a single purpose: to shred the advanced protective suits Zod and his soldiers wore, leaving them fully exposed.
For a moment, the sky over Metropolis looked like a reverse meteor shower as silver light chased black figures toward the stars. Then, just as quickly, they were gone from sight.
With the immediate annoyance dealt with, Marcus turned his attention back to the colossal metal sphere hovering beside him—the World Engine. He had a far more important task to complete: extracting its essence. This machine, designed to terraform entire planets into a new Krypton, was a treasure trove. It held the Phantom Drive that powered it, but more importantly, it was saturated with a massive supply of Kryptonite, the very element that had poisoned their homeworld.
Both were targets for his extraction. The ethereal power of the Void flowed from him, enveloping the World Engine in a shimmering, intangible mist. Around his armored form, phantoms of brilliant blue, teardrop-shaped jewels began to materialize. This was Aya's Essence, a condensed form of cosmic energy, and Marcus was pulling it directly from the Phantom Drive's singularity and the radioactive decay of the Kryptonite.
One by one, the droplets appeared, shimmering with internal light. He counted them as they formed—fourteen phantoms of pure power, each one a universe of potential. As time stretched on, the ethereal droplets slowly solidified, hardening into tangible gems that he carefully stored within his armor's integrated dimensional space.
Down below, Bruce and Selina watched in utter confusion. They had no frame of reference for what they were seeing. What were those celestial teardrops? Why did they appear only to vanish into their teacher's armor?
Before they could formulate a theory, the sky burned once more.
Massive fireballs descended from the heavens, screaming through the atmosphere as they zeroed in on Marcus.
BOOM!
A visible dome of white energy erupted in the sky where they impacted. The shockwave was even more powerful this time. The top floors of nearby skyscrapers, which had only been grazed by the earlier blast, were instantly pulverized, their concrete and steel exteriors disintegrating into dust. It was a terrifying display of raw power, and it was merely the collateral damage from the collision.
"What is that now?" Bruce breathed, his mind struggling to keep up. Fireballs falling from the sky? An entire day in Metropolis had exposed him to more unprecedented phenomena than his entire lifetime in Gotham.
As the flames and smoke cleared, Bruce and Selina saw their source. Floating in the epicenter were Zod and his soldiers, the ones Marcus had launched into space moments before. Their protective armor was gone, shredded to pieces. Now, they hovered naked in the air, their bodies crackling with newfound energy and their eyes burning with the incandescent red of their heat vision.
Out in the void of space, unprotected, they had been directly exposed to the full, unfiltered radiation of Earth's sun. General Zod had been the first to realize the immense power it granted them, a power their suits had ironically dampened. Like dry sponges plunged into an ocean, they had frantically absorbed the solar energy, their Kryptonian cells drinking in the radiation and converting it into strength.
And as they drank, their power grew exponentially. This was the source of their renewed confidence. This was the true reason they dared to challenge Marcus again.
In Marcus's perception, however, they were still just insects buzzing annoyingly. He regarded them with utter disinterest.
He simply raised a hand and clenched his fist. The magnetic field around him erupted into a shimmering, invisible barrier, intercepting their renewed assault without effort.
"I have no interest in playing with you," his voice echoed once more, laced with finality.
With a casual wave of his hand, the magnetic field ensnared them. Zod and his followers were seized by an unstoppable force, their bodies locked in place in the air, unable to move a muscle. They were perfect specimens for Clark's training, and a living demonstration for Bruce and Selina of the chasm between humanity and Kryptonians.
But even imprisoned, Zod's will was unbroken. His eyes, and the eyes of his soldiers, glowed with furious intensity. With a collective, guttural hum, searing beams of heat vision erupted from them, all converging on Marcus.
Faced with this final act of defiance, Marcus raised his own hand and snapped his fingers.
The next moment, the torrent of fiery red energy halted, converging not on his armor, but into the palm of his hand. The magnetic field, now infused with the cosmic energy of the Power Stone he wielded, easily contained and controlled the raw solar plasma. A miniature, blazing sun of condensed heat vision pulsed in his grasp.
"Don't waste your energy," Marcus said, looking down at the struggling Kryptonians with something akin to pity. "You truly are weak."
The red sphere in his hand intensified, a testament to the combined power of Zod's entire force. "You see this?" he asked, his voice calm. "This is the power you wield."
As he spoke, he gently closed his fingers. Before Zod's horrified and disbelieving eyes, the condensed star of energy shattered like a fragile glass ornament. That was everything they had. A force that could melt steel and bedrock in an instant, and he had snuffed it out as easily as a candle flame.
Crushing their ultimate attack, Marcus made a slight squeezing motion with his hand. Zod and the others were pulled through the air toward him, their powerful bodies as helpless as marionettes on a string. Under the absolute control of his magnetokinesis, even Kryptonian warriors as formidable as Zod and Faora were rendered powerless, forced to submit to his will.
Yet, Marcus did not kill them. Their purpose was not to die by his hand. Their true opponent had finally arrived.
Miles away, in the Indian Ocean, the gravity waves battering Clark suddenly ceased. The second World Engine had been destroyed. Weakened but resolute, Clark relied on his sheer force of will, rocketing through the core of the machine he was fighting and tearing it apart from the inside.
With that threat neutralized, he sped toward Metropolis. He knew the fight wasn't over. Zod was still there.
When Clark, his red cape billowing behind him, finally arrived over the devastated city, he was met with a bizarre tableau. A strange, armored figure hovered in the sky beside the massive, inert alien sphere. And held captive in the air before him were General Zod and his remaining soldiers.
"You're finally here," Marcus's familiar voice rang out from within the helmet. "Any later, and I might have lost my patience and disposed of them myself."
The tension in Clark's shoulders evaporated. It was his godfather. Relief washed over him so completely that he didn't even question the unfamiliar armor. He flew closer, his gaze falling upon the captured members of his race. Unlike them, he had been raised on Earth. He felt no deep connection to Krypton, no sense of belonging. If he didn't know the truth of his origins, he would simply be a farm boy from Kansas who happened to have superpowers.
"I need to talk to them," Clark said softly, his eyes fixed on Zod. He wasn't afraid. In his godfather's presence, he knew no one could harm him.
His words, however, were met with silent, murderous glares. Though their bodies were immobilized, Zod and the others stared at Clark with a hatred that burned hotter than their heat vision.
"You wish to persuade them?" Marcus asked, already knowing the answer. "To find a way to coexist on Earth, as you have?"
"Yes," Clark replied, nodding earnestly. "They are Kryptonians. They're my people, some of the last in the universe."
Marcus shook his head, a gesture of weary helplessness. "You are different from them, Clark. In fact, every other Kryptonian is different from you."
He let the statement hang in the air before continuing. "With Krypton's technology, survival should have been simple. They only needed to leave. Why do you think they didn't? Why did an entire civilization choose to perish with their planet?"
Clark was stunned into silence. He had wondered the same thing. The sheer advancement of the World Engine was proof that they possessed interstellar travel far beyond anything Earth could imagine. Why stay and die?
"On Krypton, every person's destiny is predetermined from the moment of their birth," Marcus explained, his voice patient but firm. "Warriors, scientists, leaders… their roles are encoded into their very being. But you, Clark… you were the first natural birth in centuries. You are the only Kryptonian free to choose his own path. Your father, Jor-El, entrusted you with the Kryptonian Codex—the genetic record of every Kryptonian who ever lived. He gave you the freedom of choice."
Clark's mind raced, trying to process the revelation.
"Their love for Krypton is not a sentiment; it is a genetic imperative," Marcus continued, his voice leaving no room for doubt. "They were programmed from birth to preserve Krypton, at any and all costs. Now, knowing that, do you still believe they will listen to reason?"
Stunned, Clark stared at Zod, desperately searching for any sign that his godfather was wrong. He knew Marcus would never lie to him, but he had to hear it from them.
"Is this… is this true?" Clark asked, his voice cracking with desperation. He understood the terrifying implication. If their loyalty was hardwired into their DNA, they would never see humanity as anything other than an obstacle to the rebirth of Krypton. Their love was for a dead world, not a living one.
Seeing the conflict in his godson's eyes, Marcus released the magnetic hold on Zod's head.
With a guttural sneer, the moment he could move, Zod's eyes flared with incandescent energy. There was no hesitation, no words. Only an immediate, suicidal attempt to kill Marcus.
With a sigh, Marcus gently raised his arm. The searing beams of heat vision converged harmlessly in his palm once more, forming another glowing red sphere. "Hm? Is this really all you have?"
He closed his hand, and the energy ball imploded, its power reflecting back and slamming into Zod and his soldiers, rocking them in their magnetic prison. Seeing the futility, the others ceased their attack. They finally understood. Against this being, they were nothing. He could extinguish their lives with a flick of his finger.
"They are your trial, Clark," Marcus said, turning his attention away from the Kryptonians as if they were no longer relevant. "How you deal with them is up to you."
He had no more time for Zod. They were merely a stepping stone for Clark's growth. If Marcus had handled it himself, this conflict would have ended before it began.
Hearing his godfather's words, Clark looked at his people, the grim reality finally setting in. A fight was inevitable. He might share their blood, but their souls were worlds apart. He was a man of Earth, forged by its values and its people. They were ghosts of Krypton, bound by chains of genetic destiny.
As Clark grappled with his dilemma, Marcus smiled faintly and turned his gaze to the two figures watching from a distant rooftop.
"Excellent. Time for some introductions. Let's have them join the party."
A flicker of magnetic energy shot from Marcus's fingertips, crossing the distance in an instant and enveloping Bruce and Selina.
"You two, come on up!"
Before they could react, Bruce and Selina were lifted off their feet and soared into the sky. Neither of them panicked; they knew this was their teacher's power. And though they had no idea what his intentions were, they trusted him implicitly.
Clark watched, confused, as two humans in advanced combat armor were brought before him. He had never seen them before. Why was his godfather bringing them here?
"Get acquainted," Marcus instructed.
An awkward silence fell between the three of them, floating high above a broken city with a group of superpowered aliens held captive nearby. Finally, after a long moment, Bruce broke the silence, his voice modulated and steady.
"Bruce Wayne. I'm his student."
Selina tilted her head, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips even in this tense situation. "Selina Kyle. Same."
A small, genuine smile touched Clark's lips as they introduced themselves. "Clark Kent," he said, his voice warm and open. "He's my godfather."
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