DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

On the ground military base, the air was thick with smoke and despair. The remnants of destruction stretched as far as the eye could see. There was no longer the sound of battle, only the haunting cries of the wounded and dying.

Under the scorching sun, the ground shimmered with distorted heat waves. Black smoke spiraled into the sky, mingling with the stench of burnt vehicles, charred flesh, and blood. Shattered vehicles lay scattered amidst the ruins, broken bodies strewn across the scorched earth.

The aftermath of the missile's impact was hellish. The once orderly military base had been reduced to a scene of devastation, the wails of the injured the loudest sound left in this desolate wasteland.

Near the ruins of the white laboratory building—the exit of the underground research institute—there was now a massive, charred crater. The building had been obliterated by the impact of the 70-ton missile, and the debris had collapsed inward, sealing the underground exit with piles of jagged rubble.

Suddenly, the rubble began to tremble. At first, it was a faint shaking, but it grew stronger with each passing moment.

Then, with a loud *bang*, the rubble exploded outward. Stones and dirt shot into the air as a tall, shadowy figure leaped free from the destruction, soaring more than ten meters into the sky.

The sun blazed behind him, casting his figure into sharp relief. The silhouette was both majestic and imposing, his form tall and powerful, radiating an almost otherworldly presence.

Bardi landed heavily on the blackened earth, his boots sinking several inches into the scorched ground. His knees bent slightly to absorb the impact before he straightened, his spine rigid, his demeanor calm and unyielding. He stood amidst the ruins like a detached observer, his cold eyes scanning the devastation with neither pity nor regret.

The sun beamed down on him, its light falling across his broad shoulders and illuminating him as though he were a figure from legend.

To Bardi, the sun was everything.

His Kryptonian genes, now fully awakened, drank in the sunlight like an empty vessel being filled to the brim. The radiant energy coursed through him, bringing warmth and vitality to every cell in his body.

He lifted his head slightly, facing the sun directly. A faint sensation of euphoria washed over him, his body reveling in the solar energy. It felt like a soothing hot spring embracing his entire being, like nourishment for a starved man.

He could feel the sun's rays penetrating his skin, sinking into the very depths of his cells. The energy seeped into his cytoplasm, strengthening and transforming him at a microscopic level. Every photon brought with it a surge of comfort and power, every cell becoming sturdier, more resilient.

Bardi's sharp gaze narrowed slightly against the blinding sunlight. He could already sense the potential that lay ahead. With enough exposure, his abilities would grow exponentially—microscopic vision, x-ray vision, and, eventually, heat vision. Each new power felt inevitable, a matter of time and accumulation.

A faint glow appeared on his face, a subtle halo cast by the interplay of sunlight and dust. Standing amidst the ruins, surrounded by smoke and broken bodies, he seemed almost otherworldly, a figure of divine wrath—or salvation.

And then, he smiled faintly.

The smile was calm, almost serene, as if untouched by the chaos around him. For a brief moment, he looked less like a destroyer and more like a saint. But the military uniform he wore grounded him, anchoring him to the brutal reality of the world.

His moment of solace lasted only two seconds.

The anguished cries of the injured and dying reached his ears, snapping him out of his quiet reverie. The sound was harsh, cutting through his momentary tranquility like a jagged blade.

Bardi began walking toward the airstrip, his steps steady and deliberate.

---

The cries around him intensified.

"Help me… my leg is crushed under the car!"

"My hand… it's broken… someone… please help!"

"Don't leave me here… please!"

"No… come back! I'm ordering you as an officer—get back here!"

The voices came from soldiers left behind in the carnage. Most were too severely injured to flee, buried under rubble, pinned beneath vehicles, or missing limbs.

The ones who could still move had already fled the base minutes ago, commandeering jeeps or running on foot. Those who remained were the unlucky ones, left to scream and beg for help amidst the ruins.

Bardi ignored them all.

His face was as emotionless as stone as he walked past the desperate cries. The wounded clawed at the air, pleading for mercy, but he didn't so much as glance in their direction.

Suddenly, a bloody, dirt-streaked hand shot out from under an overturned car.

The hand was skeletal and gaunt, its fingers twisted and trembling with effort. Its nails were broken and jagged, its veins bulging against the taut skin.

It latched onto Bardi's boot.

The grip wasn't firm, but it was desperate, clinging with a monstrous determination born from rage and desperation. The fingers clutched at his ankle, unable to hold any higher.

Bardi didn't pause.

Without even looking down, he took another step forward, easily breaking the grip. The hand fell away, landing heavily on the charred ground.

Its fingers clawed into the dirt, digging deep as if trying to anchor themselves.

From beneath the car, Brigadier General Cagle slowly raised his head.

His face was a grotesque mess of blackened blood, dirt, and ash, his features barely recognizable. His eyes, however, burned with fury—bloodshot and filled with an almost animalistic rage.

His lips twisted into a snarl, his expression contorted with pure hatred. His five fingers clenched into a trembling fist, his entire body shaking with anger as he stared at Bardi's retreating back.

"You!"

"It's you…!!"

Cagle's voice was hoarse and filled with rage. His face was twisted in agony, covered in a mixture of blood and blackened dirt. A jeep rested heavily on his mangled lower body, crushing it completely. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking the earth, and the jagged edges of broken bones protruded grotesquely from his flesh.

The chaos had erupted after a 70-ton missile struck the white laboratory building, reducing it to rubble. The blast created massive craters and sent debris flying, blocking the exits of the underground research facility. Cagle had fought his way here, driven by fury, clutching a heavy rotary machine gun, ready to ambush Bardi the moment he emerged.

But things rarely go as planned.

Hera had launched another round of vehicle-mounted missiles, one of which had exploded directly beside Cagle's vehicle. The force of the blast overturned his jeep, crushing him beneath its weight. The missile's shockwave had obliterated his body, exposing his spine and leaving him clinging to life.

He'd calculated correctly. After the initial missile strike that destroyed the white laboratory building, it was clear the remaining missiles were being controlled. Their flight paths had been deliberately redirected. Cagle had deduced that the missiles were no longer targeting the building, as further strikes were unnecessary. Bardi's escape route had already been determined.

Convinced of this, Cagle had positioned himself here to ambush Bardi.

But Hera had her own priorities. She had been clearing waves of opposition to pave the way for her master, and Cagle had arrived just in time to meet the second wave of missiles.

The sheer number of missiles proved to be his undoing.

One of the vehicle-mounted missiles landed too close, flipping his jeep and crushing him beneath it. His ambush had turned into his grave.

By the time Bardi emerged from the underground research facility, Brigadier General Cagle was already in a state of near death. His vision was fading, and his breaths were shallow. But when he saw Bardi leap out of the wreckage, a burst of adrenaline gave him one final moment of clarity.

"Help... me..."

Cagle croaked weakly, his voice filled with desperation.

Bardi, however, didn't even spare him a second glance. He saw the outstretched hand and assumed it belonged to a dying soldier pleading for aid. With an indifferent motion, Bardi kicked the hand aside and continued walking, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.

The world was cruel like that.

To Bardi, Brigadier General Cagle was nothing more than an obstacle—a small stone in his path that could be kicked away without a second thought. No matter how furious or defiant Cagle was, it didn't matter. He lacked the power to stop Bardi's advance.

Cagle's final moments were filled with anguish. He struggled to focus through his blurred vision, taking in the figure of the man who had brought ruin to the military base. His rage burned as brightly as the fires consuming the wreckage around him. Yet, as the heat twisted the air and black smoke coiled into the sky, Bardi's silhouette began to fade from sight.

Cagle's vision darkened. His breathing slowed. His broken body, crushed beyond repair, finally gave out.

His twisted face froze in a grimace of fury, his bulging eyes reflecting his helplessness.

And then, he was gone.

...

Meanwhile, Bardi's steady footsteps echoed in the aftermath of destruction. He paused for a moment, surveying his surroundings.

To his left was the tarmac.

To his right, the medical building.

***

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