Chapter 265: A War of Gods
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Zod stood over Kara’s fallen body, her cape rippling in the silent, ashen wind. The other Kryptonians descended beside him, their boots pressing into the cracked earth. The sky above shimred faintly from the energy residue of their battle burnt sll and ruin.
"You are what Krypton could have used," Zod said quietly, his tone laced with regret and superiority all at once. "It’s a sha you chose the wrong side, but that is sothing that runs in your family’s blood."
He didn’t look at her again when he said, "Take her."
Faora bowed her head slightly, her face still twisted with pain from her broken arm. She motioned to the surviving soldier, who retrieved a compact device from his belt a dull, black cube etched with shifting Kryptonian symbols that pulsed faintly red. He threw it and the device expanded, unfolding like a chanical flower.
The ground beneath Kara trembled, thin rings of energy forming around her body. She tried to move, to lift herself, but her limbs betrayed her weak, heavy, poisoned by red sunlight. The rings closed, sealing her within a containnt field that lifted her gently into the air. Her blue eyes fluttered open one last ti, seeing Zod’s silhouette.
"You think this... will hold ..." she whispered hoarsely.
Zod didn’t answer.
The device pulsed once, and the light folded inward Kara’s body encased in a transparent stasis pod. Frost blood across the glass, spreading in delicate veins until her features disappeared beneath a thin layer of ice. Her heart rate slowed, her body suspended between life and death.
Above them, the clouds parted not from nature, but from the gravitational distortion of sothing massive descending through the atmosphere. The sound was deep, thrumming, almost alive. A colossal shadow fell over the wasteland as a Kryptonian warship, black, shaped like a blade erged from the void.
Its surface rippled with energy as it hovered silently above the dead planet.
Zod and the others rose into the sky, the captured pod levitating between them. The ship’s hull opened like an iris, swallowing them into its core.
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KRYPTONIAN MOTHERSHIP - COMMAND DECK
The interior was a cathedral of steel and light. Kryptonian glyphs glowed across the walls, shifting and reforming like living code.
Zod stood at the center, hands clasped behind his back, his reflection gleaming off the floor. Before him, Kara’s containnt pod floated upright within a magnetic field, streams of light scanning across her frozen form.
Faora stood nearby, her right arm in a regenerative brace, her jaw set. The surviving soldier took position behind her, silent, disciplined.
Zod’s gaze lingered on Kara. "We remain away from Earth until we reach our maximum potential," he said, his voice low, commanding. "Kara proved stronger still, far stronger than expected, Kal El is on another league."
He turned slightly, his expression unreadable. "She bested you, Faora."
Faora lowered her eyes, her voice subdued but sharp with self-reproach. "I underestimated her, General. It will not happen again. Especially against Kal El."
Zod studied her a mont longer, then nodded once. "See that it doesn’t."
From the shadows of the deck, a figure erged a tall man in Kryptonian robes of black and silver, his face angular and eyes sharp with intellect. It was Jax-Ur, the ship’s chief scientist, his curiosity as dangerous as any weapon.
"So this is Kara Zor-El," he said, his tone analytical as he circled the pod. His reflection moved across the frost, studying her frozen expression. "Daughter of Alura and Zor-El... Jor-El’s niece. Remarkable, so she also survived."
Zod glanced toward him. "Keep her in that state," he ordered. "She is not our priority. The ones we need are Kal-El...and the abomination Jor-El made."
Jax-Ur’s brows twitched faintly. "Ah yes," he murmured. "The experint Jor-El hid even from the council. I’ve read the fragnts of his research that survived the destruction. What he created should not exist... Another taboo he broke."
"Yet it does exist," Zod said sharply. "And it’s sowhere out there."
He took a step closer, his reflection aligning with Kara’s pod for a brief, haunting instant. "Did you locate him yet?"
Jax-Ur hesitated, glancing toward a holographic display of the stars. "A distant world, General. The readings are faint, erratic. We are not certain it is the one, but... it fits Jor-El’s encryption pattern."
Zod’s eyes narrowed. "Then set course for that world."
"At once, General," Jax-Ur replied, his fingers tracing alien symbols across the console. The entire ship shifted with a low, resonant groan as the engines ca alive. Outside, the stars bent as the massive vessel aligned with its new trajectory.
Zod stared into the void beyond the viewport, his reflection hovering like a ghost against the stars.
"Jor-El made sure this one wouldn’t be found easily," Jax-Ur said, almost with admiration.
Zod’s jaw tightened. His voice was low, almost a growl. "I wonder why..."
The ship’s thrusters ignited, brilliant white flares cutting through the darkness of space as the warship vanished into its depths, leaving behind the silent, dead world.
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BATCAVE - NIGHT
Bruce Wayne stood near his aircraft, The Batwing, adjusting his utility belt in silence. Each click of a buckle, each inspection of a gadget was ritualistic for him at this point. He was focused, but his expression carried that familiar tension Alfred had co to recognize over the years: the one that appeared when Bruce was about to do sothing he himself questioned.
Alfred approached, his steps quiet but his voice carrying his usual concern disguised as wit.
"Sir, this is rather unorthodox... even by your standards," Alfred began, eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. "A strange request from Master Arthur... though perhaps the stranger thing is that you actually agreed to it."
Bruce didn’t look up. He was checking a small canister from his belt, watching the soft green light within flicker, Kryptonite gas.
"Yeah," he muttered, closing the compartnt with a click. "I wonder why myself."
He finally turned, his face shadowed under the faint light. "But our interests align. And this.." he gestured vaguely to the Batwing "...is sothing only I can do without causing problems. If his shadows appear anywhere near the Fortress, Clark’s sensors will flag it as an invasion. He’d get... the wrong idea."
Alfred raised an eyebrow. "And you sneaking into Superman’s ho isn’t an invasion?"
Bruce gave him a flat look, the kind that said you’re not wrong, but I’m still doing it.
"Arthur needs the Phantom Zone projector," he explained, his tone even. "I don’t know his actual plan but he said he might be able to survive in that dinsion and that he wants to use it on the Kryptonians if things go horribly wrong, and If Clark learns what he’s planning, he might want to do it himself. This way, no questions, no confrontation."
Alfred folded his hands behind his back, clearly unconvinced. "Couldn’t he simply ask Superman for it? Must every solution involve breaking into soone’s sanctum?"
Bruce gave a faint huff half amusent, half frustration and checked the wing’s status console. "No. Clark would ask too many questions. And I’m not just retrieving the projector... I’m verifying sothing else while I’m there."
That caught Alfred’s attention. "Ah. So there’s the real reason,*" he said, his voice dry as dust.
Bruce didn’t answer, which was answer enough. The engines of the Batwing began to power up, the low whir filling the cavern. The rush of air stirred Alfred’s coat slightly.
Alfred watched him walk toward the cockpit, that familiar pang of concern tightening behind his composed exterior. "Well," he said finally, "I suppose it would be redundant of
to remind you that this entire idea sounds like the preface to another one of your ’trust issues’ lectures with Master Kent?"
Bruce paused at the ramp, one foot on the platform. "He won’t find out," he said quietly. "Probably."
Alfred tilted his head, lips curving in that knowing, weary smile. "Of course not. Because you’re the very image of subtlety, sir. Flying a black stealth jet into the Arctic in the middle of the night is perfectly inconspicuous."
Bruce actually smirked at that just slightly. "You worry too much."
"And yet," Alfred replied softly, "I’ve never once been proven wrong for doing so."
Bruce didn’t argue. He climbed into the cockpit, the glass canopy sealing over him with a pneumatic hiss. The Batwing’s engines roared, bathing the cavern in cold blue light.
Alfred stepped back, shielding his eyes as the craft began to rise off the platform.
"Good luck, Master Bruce," Alfred said over the rising sound, his voice calm but threaded with genuine concern. "Try not to start a war between gods."
Bruce’s voice ca through the comms, resolute.
"It’s already happening, Alfred."
Then, with a thunderous burst of power, the Batwing shot out of the cave, streaking into the storm-laden night. The echo of its engines faded into silence, leaving Alfred alone once more shaking his head softly.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Solo leveling in Westeros.
&
If you wish to read more or simply support
than check out my patreon at
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You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want
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