"Just some preparations," Jor-El said calmly. "I had to plan for the future of Krypton."
"The 'future of Krypton' you speak of was stealing the Growth Codex and injecting it into your son before sending him away?" Zod countered.
"Artificial cultivation is not Krypton's future," Jor-El replied seriously.
"I have no interest in debating you," Zod said coldly. "You're nothing more than data now."
He shifted his focus to the group nearing the end of the corridor.
"So," Zod continued, "you are Kal-El. Son of Jor-El?"
"Yes," Clark nodded. "On Earth, I'm called Clark Kent."
"You accept that name?" Zod glanced at Jor-El.
"Lara and I gave him life," Jor-El replied evenly. "But those on Earth raised him. That name belongs to him. Even if I were alive, I wouldn't object-let alone now."
"You're surprisingly open-minded," Zod snorted.
His gaze shifted to Morin and Diana.
Faora's warning echoed in his mind. That electromagnetic power was impossible to ignore.
"I am General Zod," he said. "And you are?"
"I'm Morin. She's Diana," Morin waved dismissively. "No need to introduce ourselves."
"You talk."
"When words fail, you'll understand us naturally."
The implication settled heavily in the air.
"...I look forward to it," Zod said after a pause.
Confidence like that wasn't arrogance.
It was earned.
"Come," Zod said to Clark. "We need to talk."
Clark glanced at Jor-El.
"Go," Jor-El nodded. "Persuade him... or beat him into submission."
They entered the briefing room.
Zod's people sat on one side.
Clark, Morin, and Diana on the other.
Jor-El's projection hovered nearby.
"How much do you know of Krypton?" Zod asked.
"A lot," Clark replied, glancing at Jor-El. "He told me."
"Good," Zod nodded. "But understand this-Jor-El's perspective is biased. You are predisposed to side with him."
"There is only one disagreement between us," Jor-El interrupted. "Artificial cultivation or natural birth."
"Predetermined paths-or infinite possibility."
"Infinite possibility?" Zod scoffed. "That's just uncertainty."
"How many resources are wasted through trial and error?"
"Artificial cultivation assigns purpose at birth. It maximizes efficiency."
"The universe's resources are endless," Jor-El replied. "Krypton fell due to stagnation and isolation."
"Equality matters. Artificial cultivation steals choice before birth."
"Take me," he continued. "A lead scientist who longed for battle."
"...And still knocked me down," Zod snapped.
"Correct," Jor-El said mildly. "Despite being 'just' a scientist."
Zod's jaw tightened.
"You only won because-"
"I'm dead," Jor-El cut in. "So you're right."
"Regardless," he continued, "since our paths diverge, this is the final step."
The room froze.
Zod's soldiers tensed.
Diana's hand rested on her sword.
Morin looked bored.
Which concerned Zod's side the most.
They all knew-if Morin moved, the ship would be gone.
"Relax," Morin said lazily. "If I fight, there won't be a fight."
"How about this."
"You believe artificial cultivation is superior."
"Zod represents that."
"Clark is the last naturally born Kryptonian."
"So let them fight."
"Winner proves which path has greater potential."
Zod frowned. "Combat isn't everything. I'm a general."
"Strategy. Command."
"I didn't study those," Clark admitted. "And we don't have armies."
"Simulations," Zod replied. "AI-monitored. Faora oversees data. No cheating."
"You don't trust me," Jor-El sighed. "Disappointing."
"You stole the Codex," Zod sneered. "Why should I?"
"I accept," Clark said after a moment.
"Best of three."
"If I win," Zod said coldly, "I take the Growth Codex."
"And you won't interfere on Earth."
"Ahem," Morin coughed. "Earth isn't negotiable."
"...Fine," Zod conceded. "Just the Codex."
"And if I win," Clark said, eyes bright, "you stay-and attempt natural birth."
Zod paused.
"...Fine."
Leaving meant extinction anyway.
And words were cheap.
"The bet's set," Morin said. "But Earth won't survive this."
"Let's go to Mars."
As he spoke, Morin ended the telepathic link.
Clark hadn't studied tactics.
But Morin had.
Across worlds.
Across lifetimes.
Knowledge piled endlessly when boredom was the alternative.
Command theory.
Battle doctrine.
Simulation outcomes.
All of it.
You might never use it.
But you should have it.
And now-it mattered.
With Clark's consent, Morin transferred everything.
Instantly.
Clark absorbed it.
Integrated it.
Perfectly.
His expression never changed.
Zod watched with confidence as the ship set course.
Unaware.
That his opponent was no longer a novice.
But a strategist forged by countless wars he'd never seen.
The debt he once owed Jor-El-
Was coming due.
What goes around.
Comes around.
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