DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

Bardi's footsteps came to a halt.

The acrid stench of burning flesh and debris carried by the wind reached his nose.

Among the ruins, he stood alone, the sole figure remaining upright.

His usually cold, indifferent gaze softened, as though a faint light of reflection flickered in his eyes.

Reaching behind his waist with his left hand, Bardi touched the genetic serum tucked into the band of his pants. The test tube's cold glass pressed against his fingertips. In the sunlight, the blood-red liquid inside swirled faintly, glinting like a precious ruby.

This was the serum Jenny had created to help him stand again.

Calling it a "genetic serum" was an overstatement.

Bardi had read through Jenny's experimental notes and understood her intentions. This serum wasn't designed to grant superhuman strength or extraordinary abilities. Instead, it was meant to stimulate nerve action potentials and restore his ability to move.

This tube wasn't a miracle, it was a desperate and passionate effort. A gesture of warmth amid the cold steel and white walls of the laboratory.

Bardi's gaze shifted to the medical building. His eyes lingered, distant and contemplative, his thoughts unfathomable.

For a brief moment, it was as if time had stopped, leaving only him and the ruins of the battlefield.

Then—

BOOM!

A sudden burst of light erupted in the distance, breaking the stillness. A massive fireball bloomed in the sky, trailing thick black smoke. The explosion sent waves of heat rolling outward, and the white clouds above were blasted apart, leaving concentric rings that carved a hole in the sky to reveal a vivid blue expanse.

The deafening roar of the blast echoed across the landscape, shaking the ground beneath it. Shockwaves rippled through the air, sending rolling tsunamis of dust and debris across the earth.

The sound traveled for miles, reverberating across the desolate military base. The intensity of the explosion left even the soldiers who were already severely injured screaming in agony. Their ears rang with the thunderous noise, blood seeped from ruptured eardrums, and some succumbed to the internal injuries caused by the sheer force of the blast.

Bardi stood unmoved in the midst of the chaos, the wind roaring around him like a tempest. The violent gusts blew his clothes tight against his body, framing his imposing figure against the backdrop of destruction.

To an observer, he might have looked like a lone figure standing atop a mountain, resolute and unshaken, his silent conviction cutting through the storm.

The explosion had been caused by a six-kiloton cruise missile detonated in midair. A military base 500 kilometers away had detected the missile's flight path, realized the threat, and intercepted it before it could land.

But that wasn't all.

From another direction, a second missile—a ten-kiloton cruise missile loomed in the sky.

Its arrival was punctuated by an even louder explosion.

BOOM!

The missile detonated several kilometers above ground, releasing a searing white flash. The flash was so intense it burned at a temperature exceeding 6,000 degrees Celsius. Any unshielded person who dared to look directly at it would have been blinded instantly. At the epicenter of the blast, the heat and force would have torn matter apart at an atomic level.

Even though the explosion occurred high in the sky, the resulting shockwaves were more ferocious than the first. They rolled across the land like an unstoppable tsunami, kicking up massive clouds of dust and sand. The very earth seemed to ripple beneath the waves of force, and the air grew thick with chaos.

Amid this apocalyptic scene, Bardi moved.

He stepped forward, his body pressing against the gale-force winds, his face unwavering despite the stinging sand cutting into his skin.

His expression turned cold and resolute, his eyes narrowing as he pushed through the storm. His figure, framed against the backdrop of rolling dust and fire, seemed both indomitable and solitary.

By the time he reached the tarmac, the sandstorm had mostly subsided.

A single helicopter remained.

During the initial missile strikes on the military base, several soldiers had tried to escape by air. One helicopter had managed to take off, but it had been quickly destroyed by a vehicle-mounted missile. The fiery explosion had left the remaining soldiers too paralyzed with fear to attempt another escape.

When another helicopter was shot down and exploded in midair, it became clear to everyone that survival wasn't a matter of luck. Whoever tried to escape by air was doomed. With that grim reality sinking in, the remaining soldiers abandoned the idea of using the helicopter and fled on foot.

It was the correct choice. Those who ran were among the few survivors of the chaos.

The only helicopter left on the tarmac was a Boeing AH-63 Apache gunship.

Bardi had a plan. He needed to fly the gunship to the border of Nevada, Utah, and Idaho.

If everything went smoothly, he could pilot the Apache to a hidden location, dispose of it discreetly, and begin his next steps.

If things went poorly, he had a backup plan. He could dive into the Snake River, using its long and winding expanse to evade detection. The Snake River spanned multiple regions, and its sheer size would make it nearly impossible for anyone to track him. From there, he could cross into Utah, move through Colorado, and eventually reach Kansas.

Kansas.

The thought of it stirred something in Bardi's mind. He wondered if Kal-El, the heir of the House of El, had already been sent to Earth by his father. Bardi clenched his jaw at the thought. There was a long-standing debt to settle with the El family.

His eyes remained fixed on the helicopter for a moment, his body rigid. He stood straight, motionless, but there was a subtle hesitation in his stance—a faint struggle, as if he were weighing something deep within.

Whatever the conflict was, it didn't slow his actions.

Without further delay, Bardi moved toward the helicopter, his steps swift and deliberate.

He opened the cabin door with practiced ease and climbed inside, settling into the captain's seat on the right. His movements were precise, calm, and efficient, though his demeanor carried the urgency of someone escaping pursuit not from external enemies, but from something internal.

Bardi gripped the collective pitch control stick with his left hand, increasing the blade pitch to its maximum angle. As the rotor's lift reached full strength, he used his right hand to steady the joystick and powered up the engine.

The sequence of actions was seamless, performed with mechanical precision. The blades began to turn, slowly at first, then rapidly, stirring up a storm of yellow sand that spiraled into the air, forming a towering sand column.

The loud roar of the propellers filled the air as the heavy Apache gunship lifted off the ground. The turbulence below created whirlwinds of sand and dust, churning the ground into chaos.

As the helicopter stabilized, Bardi adjusted the controls, steering it toward the open skies. For a fleeting moment, his cold eyes softened as he glanced toward the medical building in the distance. A faint, almost imperceptible gentleness flickered in his gaze.

Then, without hesitation, he increased the helicopter's speed, tilting it forward like a dragonfly skimming the water, and rushed southward, leaving behind a cloud of dust and ruin.

The military base lay in ruins. The medical building stood amid the black smoke and drifting sand, isolated and desolate, like a monument to abandonment.

Nevada's arid terrain stretched endlessly below. The state, known for its dry desert climate, was a vast expanse of barren hills and rocky plains. Even after twenty-seven minutes of flying south, the scenery remained unchanged—hills, Gobi terrain, and dry earth as far as the eye could see.

Finally, in the distance, a faint touch of green appeared on the horizon. A forest. The sight of it meant water wasn't far.

As Bardi approached the forest, a sharp screech cut through the air.

An F-15 Eagle fighter jet streaked across the sky from behind, its engines howling as it locked onto the helicopter.

Bardi's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the jet. His expression remained calm, though the faintest hint of relief crossed his face.

"It seems I made the right choice leaving her behind," he muttered under his breath.

***

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