Kal's breath caught.
He didn't know what it was. It wasn't a bear. It wasn't a wolf. It wasn't anything that belonged in this world.
It was something else.
A corruption made flesh.
The creature stepped into the clearing slowly, muscles rippling beneath its mangled frame, paws crunching blackened leaves beneath razor claws. It didn't growl. It didn't charge.
It just stared.
And Kal stared back, eyes narrowed, posture tense. His mind raced.
'What are you?'
Then — without a sound — it moved.
Kal never saw it coming.
One moment, the creature was still. The next — blur.
A streak of darkness crossed the clearing in the blink of an eye. Kal barely twitched before something slammed into his chest like a freight train.
His body was flung backward.
He smashed through two trees — the first splintered on impact, the second cracked down the middle — before crashing into the ground and skidding through soil and roots. Bark and dirt exploded around him.
He lay there, blinking up at the grey sky.
Not injured.
But that hurt.
Kal gasped. The wind had been knocked clean out of him. He rolled to his side, coughing. His chest ached like he'd been punched by a car going full speed.
"What… the hell…"
His eyes flicked back toward the clearing.
The creature was gone.
No. Not gone.
Running. At him.
Kal scrambled upright, panic overriding pain, but before it could reach him—
Boom.
It hit something.
The air itself flashed with translucent green.
The creature was thrown backward mid-leap, yelping and snapping. It landed on all fours and hissed, pacing in front of the invisible wall that now shimmered faintly around Kal like a bubble of moonlight.
Kal stared.
A barrier.
He looked around. The faint green glow formed a dome around the pod — a full perimeter, maybe 150 meters in radius, encasing the ship and the wolf within it.
The creature snapped its jaws at him from the outside, but didn't — couldn't — cross the threshold.
Kal stepped toward the edge.
The wolf lunged again — bam — repelled instantly, the barrier sparking where its claws struck.
But when Kal extended his hand and stepped forward—
He passed right through. No resistance. As he stepped back out, the creature snapped again, blocked.
A one-way field.
It kept the creature out — or kept it in?
Kal circled slowly, keeping just within the boundary, watching as the thing mirrored his every step. It prowled the outside rim, eyes never leaving him.
He tried to think.
'Is it guarding the pod? Or did it want inside?'
More importantly…
'Is it the only one?'
But before he could complete the thought he had an idea.
He had to get to the pod.
He couldn't stall. Whatever that thing was, he couldn't afford to let it camp the perimeter forever. His ship held answers. Maybe weapons. Maybe something more.
So he backed up.
Took a breath.
Focused.
And then launched forward — flying at full speed, straight toward the pod.
Kal launched himself forward like a missile.
The world blurred around him — trees whipping past as the wind roared against his skin. His eyes locked on the pod at the heart of the crater, calculating trajectory, time, force—
He was going to make it.
He had to.
The creature blurred at the edge of his vision—
Then it moved.
He didn't see how. He didn't see when.
Only that suddenly it was there, keeping pace — on foot. Running.
Faster than anything should be able to run.
Its claws tore furrows into the dirt with every stride, legs blurring with unnatural momentum. Not fluid — not graceful — but savage. Like every step shredded the earth behind it.
Kal's instincts screamed.
He banked left.
Too slow.
Something struck his back with the weight of a falling boulder.
WHAM.
He was driven down.
Air left his lungs in a rush as his body hit the ground like a meteor — dirt exploded upward, trees groaned and cracked. His momentum skidded him through thick roots and into a boulder that shattered under the force of his impact.
Pain bloomed across his shoulders, his spine, his ribs. He wasn't injured - his body stronger than that - but, damn, did it hurt.
Kal coughed, stunned, face-down in the dirt.
'What the hell is this thing?'
He rolled to the side just as claws slashed down, carving trenches into the ground where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier.
Kal flipped up to his feet.
The wolf was already circling.
Fast. Too fast.
Kal threw a punch.
Missed.
The creature dodged like smoke, slipping just out of range, and retaliated — claws raking across his chest with a bone-jarring crack. Kal flew back again, feet digging trenches into the ground until he caught himself against a tree.
He wasn't bleeding. Not yet. But he had certainly felt that one.
His suit was torn.
His skin—bruised. Muscles aching where the creature's claws had struck.
Kal narrowed his eyes.
No words were exchanged. No thoughts shared. This wasn't a negotiation.
It was war.
The creature snarled — a low, wet sound like grinding stone — and pounced again.
Kal braced, footwork tight, weight low.
He swung again.
Again, the wolf twisted mid-air — not around, but above — using a tree to pivot off, claws striking from an impossible angle.
Crack.
Kal was launched sideways.
He tumbled once, landed hard on a knee, and pushed back up, growling now — fists clenched.
He was strong.
Stronger than it. By leagues.
But it was faster. Slippery. And it knew it.
The fight devolved into chaos.
Kal lashed out in bursts — blows that shattered trunks and crushed stone when they landed — but none hit their mark.
The creature moved like a shadow, circling him, swiping at legs, ribs, spine. Each hit knocked Kal back, shook his frame, tested his limits.
Kal tried grappling. Failed.
Tried predicting its rhythm. Failed.
He tried letting it get close — baiting it — only to eat another hit to the chest that sent him rolling backward again.
They were at a deadlock. Each unable to harm the other.
Strength vs. speed.
Power vs. precision.
And neither side could win.
Not yet.
Kal stood panting, fists raised, dirt smeared across his arms, blood rushing in his ears. The creature paced ten feet away, steam rising off its body in thin trails.
This strange stalemate continued for some time. Kal unable to strike the wolf because of it's speed, and the creature unable to significantly injure him because of his endurance.
Then, something changed.
The wolf stopped circling.
Its ears flattened.
Its body lowered, ready to pounce.
And Kal — despite himself — stepped forward to meet it.
It lunged.
This time, Kal didn't strike.
He raised his arms to block the expected swipe.
Instead—
It bit.
Not a glancing snap. Not a warning nip.
A full-force, bone-shattering bite.
Its jaws locked around Kal's left forearm with thunderous pressure — teeth harder than diamonds driving through skin, even Kryptonian skin, and lodging in muscle.
For the first time since arriving on Earth…
Kal felt his own blood. This wasn't a trial. No simulated mindscape where he could tell himself his real body was okay. This was the real world.
It burned.
A white-hot, searing pain surged through him as he screamed — not from the pain itself, but from sheer, animal shock. The creature held on, jaws flexing, eyes alight with something close to glee.
Kal acted on reflex.
His free hand shot up, grabbed the wolf by the skull — rough fur slick with blood — and slammed it down into the dirt.
Boom.
The ground cracked.
The creature's body tumbled with the force, crashing into a tree that splintered from the impact. Leaves rained down like snow.
Kal staggered back, clutching his bleeding arm. It wasn't as deep as he thought, but he was still injured. His blood — bright crimson, unnaturally vibrant — dripped onto the blackened soil.
The wolf rose.
Slower this time. Its side heaved. One of its ribs jutted at an angle that wasn't there before.
Kal had hurt it.
But it didn't retreat.
It stared at the wound on Kal's arm.
And smiled.
No lips moved.
But somehow, it smiled.
And then it charged.
It was no longer circling.
No more feints, no more distance.
Now, the wolf was relentless.
A force of nature.
It struck like lightning — always too fast, always too close. Kal barely had time to register movement before the next bite came. Not to kill — not yet — but to bleed.
A snap at his thigh.
A searing flash of pain — another bite tore at his upper arm.
A growl at his side — teeth dug into his ribs, shallow, sharp.
The creature tore at him — slowly. Each bite and nip of it's jaws injured him slightly, drawing away little bits of his strength.
Each individual bite was not significant — mainly superficial, not too deep — but as the wolf struck at him a dozen times, two dozen, the injuries began to stack up.
He tried to strike back each time, fists blazing.
Only one hit landed — a punch that connected solidly with the wolf's flank and sent it tumbling through a half-dozen trees. Kal saw bark fly and heard the wet crunch of breaking ribs.
But the creature was already upright again. Limping, but grinning.
It liked this.
Kal's body was drenched in blood now — his own — it dripped down from tears in his black suit in shimmering beads. He could feel the suit moving, working to slowly close up the tears and stem his bleeding.
His foot dragged slightly when he moved, his breathing ragged. His muscles screamed.
The wolf charged again.
Kal lifted both arms to shield his head — and this time it didn't go for the chest. Its jaws snapped low, catching his calf mid-leap.
Rip.
Kal screamed as the wolf's bite ripped into his leg and twisted savagely, pulling him off balance. He dropped to the ground like deadweight, pain flaring up in his spine as he hit hard.
Before he could roll away, it was on him again.
Another bite, this one under his shoulder. Kal kicked, hard, and sent the creature flying — but only a few meters. It landed, shook itself, and started stalking again.
'This thing's not just attacking me… It's wearing me down.'
Death wasn't its goal — not immediately.
It wanted to drag him there. Inch by inch.
Kal rose to one knee, sweat mingling with blood on his face.
His vision swam.
The world tilted.
How long had it been? Minutes? Seconds? Time blurred when every breath hurt.
He had been strong. He'd thought that was enough.
But now?
He was bleeding, bruised, exhausted.
The wolf was wounded — but somehow thriving. Rejuvenated by his blood. Moved with more hunger now, more speed.
As if every wound it gave him made it stronger.
He tried to lift off — to escape. He didn't care if it looked like cowardice.
He couldn't win.
Kal burst upward, the wind howling around him—
CHOMP.
The wolf's jaws caught his ankle mid-ascent.
Its weight dragged him from the sky like an anchor. His body hit the dirt with bone-jarring force.
He howled — a raw, human sound torn from his throat.
The wolf wrenched its jaws to the side and Kal felt something deep in his leg tear. Not just flesh — deeper.
He was on his back now, staring up at the dim morning light filtering through shattered trees.
'Move', he begged himself. 'Stand.'
His body didn't obey.
He rolled to his side, dragging himself up with one trembling arm — the injured one — his blood dripping onto moss and mud.
The wolf paced in front of him now, slow, methodical.
No longer rabid.
Certain.
It knew the end was close.
Kal's breaths came in shallow gasps. His foot was dead weight. His arm throbbed. His limbs shook with effort.
Still, he raised his head. Still, he met the creature's eyes.
It lunged.
No noise. No warning.
Just jaws widening, fangs bared, claws outstretched — aimed straight for his throat.
And then—
The world slowed.
The air became thick, syrupy.
His heart beat once.
Twice.
Three times.
Kal blinked — and instead of a blur, he saw every detail.
Every strand of the wolf's fur moving with the wind.
Every droplet of spit glinting on its teeth.
The way its eyes gleamed — not with madness, but with a cold, alien focus.
'Time has slowed…?'
No — time hadn't slowed down.
'I've sped up.'
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Adrenaline threshold surpassed. Solar processing spike detected.]
[Power Unlocked: Super Speed - Tier I]
Your mind operates at inconceivable speeds. Your neurons fire faster than ever before. Your nervous system can send and receive signals faster than any electricity can move. Time seems to slow, bent to your very will. True speed is not about the speed of your body, but the speed of your mind.
[+15XP]
Kal didn't think.
He moved.
To his left — out of the arc of the wolf's jaws.
The beast passed through the space where his throat had just been.
Kal rose in a blur, moving faster than thought.
His injured leg screamed with each step — but the pain couldn't catch him now.
The wolf landed, confused — growled.
Turned.
Kal was already behind it.
He struck.
A punch — not at full power, but faster than anything he'd ever thrown.
CRACK.
The wolf howled — truly howled this time — as Kal's fist connected with its back leg. The sound of bone giving way echoed through the forest.
It staggered.
Kal didn't stop.
Another strike to the ribs — two more punches to its flank. The creature yelped, tried to counter, but Kal dodged — finally, effortlessly.
His body still hurt.
His blood still spilled.
But now?
Now he could fight.
Kal had never felt power like this before.
Speed that bent the air around him. Reflexes sharp enough to read muscle tension and predict movement. He dodged the wolf's lunges with impossible ease, his body weaving between branches and roots like wind given form.
He was no longer prey.
Now, he was the hunter.
The wolf howled, spinning mid-pounce to slash at his chest again—but Kal blurred to the side. A flash of crimson light caught in the corner of his vision as his own blood trailed behind him.
He was still hurt.
Still bleeding.
And worse—slowing down.
That initial spike of power—the high that came from unlocking something new—it was fading. He could feel it. Each movement took a little more effort. The pain returned in increments. His leg dragged. His breathing hitched. His super speed returning to some unknown base level.
The gap between him and the wolf narrowed.
He no longer moved much faster than the creature, but still at least equalled it in speed.
But that's all he needed.
Kal grit his teeth and met the creature head-on.
It lunged—he countered. His fists slammed into its ribs with the crack of breaking bone. It twisted, swiped—a claw grazed his cheek, but he was already inside its guard, hammering his elbow into its spine.
The wolf yelped, staggered, tried to retreat.
Kal didn't let it.
He chased it down, relentless, faster than its injured limbs could carry it. Blow after blow—targeting joints, limbs, already-broken bones.
Each strike felt like thunder in his knuckles.
Each time it tried to rise, he knocked it back down.
Finally, the wolf collapsed.
Ragged breath wheezed from its ruined body.
It tried to growl—tried to stand.
But Kal was already above it.
One last hit.
A full-force punch to the skull.
CRACK.
The wolf jerked once, then lay still.
Blood soaked the ground beneath it, seeping into the roots and moss like ink into parchment.
[Level 13 Enemy - Corrupted Guardian - Defeated: +300XP]
[Quest Updated - "Echoes of the Crash"
Hidden Subquest: Defeat the pod's guardian. (Complete)
Reward: +100XP]
Kal stumbled back, breathing hard.
The forest was quiet again.
The tension in the air broke like a fever ending. Wind rustled the trees. A crow called somewhere in the distance.
He stared at the corpse for a long moment, chest rising and falling, watching for any sign of movement.
Then, without warning—
It began to wilt.
The monstrous form deflated—skin shrinking against bones, eyes going glassy and dull. Its fur faded into dull greys and greens. The smell of death bloomed into the clearing.
And then—
Something rose from the corpse.
A translucent shape—white, luminous, ghostly.
A wolf spirit.
It stood tall, shoulders high, proud and powerful even in death. Made of fog and starlight, its form shimmered in and out of existence like a mirage.
Kal froze.
The spirit didn't attack.
It just stared at him.
Its gaze was sharp—intelligent.
Not human.
Not quite animal.
Something older.
Suddenly, all around him green, translucent light. The dome. The dome that had once trapped this creature — or it's evil version at least — now lit up in it's entirety.
Then suddenly—
It broke.
It dissolved into a million motes of light, all of which streamed towards the wolf, joining with him.
'No.' Kal realised. 'Returning to him.'
As streams of light poured into it, the wolf seemed to grow more powerful, a kind of spiritual pressure, or aura weighing down more and more on the surroundings.
When the last streams of light finally merged into the wolf, its appearance hadn't changed much — perhaps slightly larger. But its presence? By its presence alone it felt multiple times larger.
They locked eyes once again.
The moon-like wolf nodded once.
Kal didn't know why, but he felt the gesture meant something.
A kind of respect.
Recognition.
Then, it leapt.
Right at him.
Kal's eyes widened—he braced, heart pounding—
But the spirit passed through him.
No impact. No pain.
Just a warmth in his chest—like standing under sunlight after a long winter.
He gasped, shivering as the sensation faded.
The spirit landed behind him, turned once to glance back.
Its form was flickering, dissolving into the morning air.
[You have been marked.]
And then—it was gone.
No wind. No sound.
Just Kal.
Bleeding.
Breathing.
Victorious.
Kal dropped to one knee again, exhaustion catching up to him in a crashing wave. His body was wrecked, his mind reeling.
But he was alive.
And whatever that creature was—it wasn't just a monster.
It was a guardian.
And he had just stepped into a much deeper world.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The forest was quiet now, but Kal's mind was a whirlwind. In the last few minutes, he felt like a million things had happened. For one he'd nearly died. That in itself was shocking, even in his most nascent state as Superman. Then at the last second he had unlocked a new power, only just managing to save his own life. And after killing the monster, still more crazy things had happened.
Corrupted Guardian? What did that mean? And what had left its body at the end? He assumed that was the actual Guardian. Free from whatever had corrupted it after Kal had dealt with it. And what had that white wolf… ghost… for lack of a better word, do to him?
Kal's thoughts travelled to the ominous system message he had received.
[You have been marked.]
The statement bought more questions than answers. In fact it brought only questions — there were no answers in sight! Marked? What did that even mean? How had he been marked? It's not like it pissed on him, right?...Right?
Perhaps most importantly, marked why?
Kal's frustrations only grew with the more questions he thought of.
He pushed them all to the back of his mind — focussing on his peaceful surroundings.
No more howling. No more rustling trees.
Kal stood where the Corrupted Guardian had drawn its last breath, bloodied and heaving. His foot ached with each heartbeat, his arm still throbbed from the bite that pierced his skin. But none of it mattered now. The creature was gone.
And the pod was waiting.
It sat at the center of the crater, as still and lifeless as when he first found it. Dark metal, smooth and alien, partially sunken into the earth like a relic of a fallen god. For a moment, Kal hesitated. It felt like a line he couldn't uncross — like whatever was inside would change everything.
But he had to know.
He stepped forward slowly, limping across the scorched dirt. The moment his fingertips brushed the strange black alloy of the outer shell, a pulse of warmth ran up his arm. Then a sharp hiss — pressurized air escaping from unseen seams — and a low, mechanical voice echoed from somewhere within the machine.
"DNA Identified. Disabling defense mechanisms. Welcome, Kal-El."
The pod shuddered.
Segments retracted with a hiss. Panels folded inwards like petals of a mechanical flower. Lights flickered on beneath the surface — dim at first, then growing brighter — casting eerie blue-white beams across Kal's bloodstained face.
The entrance split open with a low, grinding groan.
Kal's heart pounded.
Inside, everything was dark. Silent. The air was still and cold. It didn't feel like stepping into a ship — it felt like stepping into a tomb.
His feet echoed on the metallic floor as he entered, his breath shallow with anticipation. The walls were sleek and curved, like the inside of a shell. There were lights — dim greenish slits that lined the walls, illuminating a single raised cradle at the center.
He walked toward it slowly.
It was shaped to fit him. Clearly. It wasn't a bed — it was a pod within the pod. A stasis cradle. This was where he must've slept — or died — or whatever had happened to bring him here.
A faint tremor passed through the ship.
With a hiss, a compartment on the wall opposite him slid open. Something emerged with slow, deliberate precision — a humanoid mannequin, smooth and faceless, rising on a mechanical arm. Draped over it, perfectly shaped to its form, was a suit.
Blue. Red. Yellow.
The symbol on the chest — not an "S," he realized — but a symbol that meant something deeper. Something older. He didn't know how he knew that. He just did.
It was waiting for him.
Kal stared.
The air in his lungs felt like glass. His fingers twitched, aching to reach out, to touch it. Awe filled his body.
This was Superman's suit. His suit.
As he turned to explore further, the mannequin slid silently back into the wall, vanishing behind a concealed panel like it had never been there.
He walked toward the other side of the ship — toward a door that had no seams, no handle, no buttons. And yet, as he approached, it opened.
Another hiss. Another quiet groan.
Beyond it, light.
Kal stepped through and into what could only be described as the ship's control chamber.
It was beautiful.
A semi-circular room with a vaulted ceiling, lined in ridges of glowing metal and softly pulsing panels. Alien glyphs drifted lazily across the walls like falling snowflakes. There were no screens, only surfaces that shimmered like liquid glass. At the center stood a raised dais with a tall, obelisk-like console made of polished black stone and lined with silver veins that pulsed like veins of light.
Kal stared at it.
Then, with a quiet chime, the obelisk shimmered — and a hologram bloomed into existence above it.
It was a man.
Not a projection. Not a rough model. A man — lifelike, detailed, present. He stood tall and regal, dressed in dark Kryptonian robes, his face lined with age and wisdom, his eyes the same sharp blue as Kal's.
The man looked at him.
There was emotion there — not just programmed sentiment, but something deeper. Something real.
Then the man spoke.
"Hello, Kal-El." a pause as the man examined him. "My, how big you've grown."
His eyes twinkled with emotion. Half pride. Half longing.
"My name is Jor-El… and I am your father."
Kal didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Only one thought crossed his mind — loud, incredulous, echoing with disbelief.
'What the FU—'
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The chamber was quiet now. Hushed. As if the very air held its breath in reverence. Dim silver light glowed from the crystalline surfaces surrounding Kal — alien, refractive, like frozen lightning.
Kal stood before the figure — his figure — projected in ethereal blue. Jor-El.
The man had the high cheekbones and resolute brow Kal had seen only in symbols and fractured images, but here, now, he moved, breathed — or at least, seemed to. The projection was near-perfect. Kryptonian craftsmanship. His robe flowed as if in some unseen breeze, patterned with shifting lines of code that pulsed faintly with thought.
Jor-El gazed at Kal with eyes that gleamed like starlight. Compassionate. Proud.
"It may come as a surprise," he began, voice low but unwavering, "but you are not of this planet."
Kal let out a slow breath, careful. He couldn't tell Jor everything. Not about the System. Not about how he truly arrived. But he couldn't play dumb either — not without raising suspicion. Instead, he nodded, then met Jor-El's gaze evenly.
"I already know," Kal said. "That I'm not from here. That I fell from space."
Jor-El tilted his head. "You remember the pod?"
"I remember falling," Kal clarified. "Not in the pod. I fell alone. The pod came later — or landed separate from me."
There was a flicker in Jor-El's expression — not doubt, but realization. The crystalline filaments in his eyes pulsed faster, lines of glyphs dancing rapidly across his irises. A faint, sharp tone rang out from the console beside him.
"…Curious," Jor-El murmured. "That… aligns with newly accessed telemetry. According to the pod's records, sixteen Earth years ago, as it approached the outer atmosphere, it suffered a critical malfunction. Its Phantom Engine overloaded after sustaining damage during escape. The result: premature ejection of the stasis cradle."
He looked stunned. "It believed you were lost."
Kal's brow furrowed. 'Believed, huh?' How convenient. He knew better than to take every data file at face value. Kal somehow doubted that any of this had happened, after all he wasn't even truly Kal-El. He was an interloper—a stranger from another world who had arrived here, somehow, after his death.
The system had already shown its proficiency at generating false records—he felt it was likely the same had happened here. Even Kryptonian technology should be unable to stand against the system, after all, it had transported him across universes.
Still, he kept his face neutral.
"I apologize," Jor-El said, softening. "I was in stasis myself. The crystal AI matrix within the pod was designed to remain dormant until it registered your return. You… reactivated me."
Kal nodded, still silent. Letting him speak.
"You are Kryptonian," Jor-El continued, "a child of a world far from here — a world named Krypton. A storied planet. Once, it stood at the heart of a vast empire, its people proud, mighty, and enlightened."
Jor-El lifted one hand, and a great sphere materialized in the air above them: a red star orbited by a jewel-like planet covered in crystalline cities.
"Kryptonians, under the radiation of a yellow sun such as this one," Jor-El said, "are capable of extraordinary feats. Strength. Speed. Flight. Invulnerability. Our abilities came as—"
Suddenly, his voice garbled.
{ERROR. DATA CORRUPTED.}
The sphere above them fragmented violently. Symbols twisted into broken glyphs. The light flickered, colors bleeding into each other.
Jor-El froze mid-sentence. His mouth slightly open. His eyes flicked erratically, lines of code cascading down the holographic interface in broken patterns.
"What was that?" Kal asked, cautious.
Jor-El stood silent for a beat longer than he should have.
"…I don't know," he said finally. "That section of memory—data concerning the origin of our powers—has been compromised. There should be backups… and yet—"
He turned slightly, facing the console, and tapped at the air. Fragments of corrupted data bloomed, then collapsed.
"I can't retrieve it."
Kal narrowed his eyes. "Corrupted like… damaged? Or missing?"
"More like rewritten. Incomplete. Key files are… scrambled." Jor-El turned back to Kal, expression troubled. "It may be a degradation of the stasis matrix. Or external interference. But that's not supposed to be possible. Not here."
There was a beat of silence.
Jor-El pushed forward. "Still. The origin is less important than the end. Krypton had already begun to decline. The golden age faded. Our expansion ceased. Only our homeworld remained. War, internal dissent, and arrogance cost us dearly."
Another series of images filled the chamber — Kryptonian scientists debating in high towers, soldiers marching, buildings darkening, weather patterns turning violent.
"To survive, we began siphoning energy from the planetary core itself," Jor-El said grimly. "It was a desperate measure. I warned the Council of the consequences. I begged them. They didn't listen."
His voice grew hard.
"They had already been corrupted by—"
{ERROR. DATA CORRUPTED.}
The lights flickered for a second. Even the holographic Jor-El shimmered violently, as if something had taken a knife to his program and sliced deep.
Kal's chest tightened.
"…Again?"
Jor-El didn't respond right away. He turned slowly toward the data stream. Entire swathes of his memory files were now grayed out, flickering. He reached toward them but his hand passed through.
He looked genuinely shaken.
"That… should not have happened," he said, mostly to himself. "Once is an anomaly. Twice… it may be systemic. Someone — or something — has altered the archival data."
Kal stepped forward slightly. "Are you okay?"
Jor-El turned his gaze to him again. "I am… functional. But concerned. Without that information, I can no longer confirm the full truth behind Krypton's collapse. I believe it is likely the records have been tampered with. Perhaps remotely."
"By who?" Kal asked.
Jor-El hesitated. "I cannot say. Not without further access."
Kal's mind raced. That word — "corrupted" — he had already stumbled upon it several times today. Now, each time, it brought a bad feeling to his stomach. And with what he had seen of the Corrupted Guardian, and it's uncorrupted self, this was part of something much… greater.
Jor-El steadied himself. "What I can tell you is this — in Krypton's final days, a military coup led by General Dru-Zod hastened the planet's end. He saw the Council's weakness and struck — but his actions only accelerated the inevitable."
Another image — of a man in gleaming black armor with eyes like burning coals, standing over a battlefield of broken machines.
Kal frowned.
Zod.
He was dangerous. Very dangerous.
"If I could access a functional Kryptonian vessel… or a database with higher decryption privileges,I may be able to unlock more." Jor-El said.
"The data stored in a fully operational Kryptonian command vessel or a Genesis Core would give me a chance to bypass the corruption. But you would need the Outpost Crystal — a vital piece of Kryptonian technology I placed within your escape pod. It would allow you to establish a Kryptonian Outpost Fortress on this planet."
He looked toward the console, then back again.
"…It's gone."
A chill went down Kal's spine.
"I placed it within the pod. A key — a map — everything needed to unlock our legacy. It must have fallen with you."
Kal's eyes narrowed. He was almost certain now that the system had interfered. And he now felt he knew what the next Origin Quest would be about.
He didn't tell Jor-El.
"I'll initiate a global scan," Jor-El said, touching the console. "It may take time. Perhaps days. Perhaps years. The crystal was built to be resilient — it will survive. But we may not find it quickly."
Kal nodded slowly. "Alright."
Jor-El turned back to him, face softer now. "There's more. The last thing I did, before Krypton died… was this."
A new projection shimmered into view. A cradle. A child. A symbol — the House of El.
"I stole the Codex," Jor-El said. "The genetic legacy of our people. I encoded it into your DNA. Every Kryptonian line. Every ancestral memory. You are our living archive, Kal-El."
Kal stared at the image.
"I built this pod myself. Modified it to evade detection. Equipped with a Phantom Engine to cross space in days rather than years. And I sent you here — to Earth. To survive. To carry our legacy."
Jor-El stepped closer, looking into Kal's eyes.
"You are more than just our last hope. You are Krypton itself. The Last Son."
Silence fell again.
Kal stood motionless. The magnitude of it — the expectation — felt like a gravity field crushing his chest.
But he didn't collapse.
"I'll do what I can," he said finally. His voice steady. "I'll honor what I can."
Jor-El nodded. Proud.
And above them, the ghost of Krypton burned one last time.