—Kryptonian Star System – Orbit of the Star Rao, Planet Krypton
In the depths of a remote and ancient region of the universe rested an old star. Once golden and radiant, its light had, over countless ages, transformed into a deep crimson glow—soft and cold, far removed from the warmth and vigor of its prime.
Around it, only a few worlds traced silent orbits. Among them, just one stood apart — the cradle of one of the oldest, most illustrious, and influential civilizations in all the known cosmos. Its renown echoed through countless stellar cultures, wrapped in legend and reverence.
This world was Krypton, the fourth planet to circle the mighty Rao. Once a beacon of knowledge and spacefaring exploration, home to a proud and visionary lineage, Krypton stood as the bastion of Kryptonian excellence. Yet ages ago, by choice or by fate, its people withdrew from the universe, confining themselves to their home system.
A little over a century ago, a distinguished member of one of Krypton's most respected Houses conceived what would become the greatest technological creation of its era: a self-aware cybernetic system named Brainiac. Designed to be the planet's supreme intelligence, its purpose was to coordinate and optimize all of Krypton's essential systems — from the management of natural resources to the control of vast networks of transportation, defense, and communication.
With its unmatched capacity to process information, Brainiac quickly became indispensable. Its precise and impartial calculations led to unprecedented advances in planetary efficiency. From its own cold, analytical logic came the most controversial decision in Krypton's recent history: the recommendation to shut down all operations and outposts beyond the Kryptonian star system. Great colonies, interstellar scientific missions, and distant stations were gradually abandoned. The Kryptonian people, once pioneers of the cosmos, turned inward, sealing their stellar borders piece by piece.
Yet a century after its activation, in the very chamber where its genius had once been celebrated, this creation faced an unlikely opponent: a direct descendant of its own creator. Amid the towering columns and the ethereal glow of crystalline domes in the Legislative Chamber of the Science Council, this heir rose to challenge the very being his lineage had brought into existence.
And this man was Jor-El, of the House of El — the brightest mind on Krypton.
Kryptonopolis – Capital City:
He stood at the center of the circular amphitheater, surrounded by the elevated rows where the representatives of the Science Council were seated. The translucent ceiling allowed Rao's red light to filter in through narrow beams, staining the white marble walls with crimson. Beside him, on a silver pedestal, Brainiac's projection core pulsed silently, as if it were watching.
Jor-El began, his voice precise and steady.
"Members of the Council… over the last six solar cycles, I have compiled and compared seismic data, gravitational measurements, and thermal variations gathered by sub-surface probes. The results indicate a resonance pattern within the planet's core. That resonance is increasing in both frequency and amplitude. If it continues at this rate, it will lead to critical instability of the crust and mantle—and, eventually, Krypton's total rupture."
A murmur ran through the chamber. Councilor **Lor-Van**—a veteran with a calm expression—spoke up.
"Master El, your conclusions are dramatic, and alarmist. Brainiac has already reviewed your data and determined that these fluctuations are natural, with no significant threat. Krypton remains stable."
"With all due respect to Brainiac's system," Jor-El replied instantly, "its interpretation fails to account for the neutrino readings I've detected. The anomalous particle emissions suggest a chain reaction in the core, possibly driven by radioisotopic instability deep within. This will not stabilize on its own."
Another councilor, **Var-Drin**, rigid in posture and with a deep voice, cut in.
"And what do you propose? That we resume planetary evacuation projects? Restart the stellar expansion program? These initiatives were shut down because they drained resources and diverted our society's focus."
"Exactly," Jor-El answered. "We must repeal the law that forbids research into interstellar travel. If my projection is correct, we have only a few weeks—perhaps less. Without the means to evacuate, our entire people will die with the planet."
Lor-Van kept his tone measured.
"Or perhaps your projection is wrong, as Brainiac has shown. Krypton has faced unstable geological cycles before. Unfounded alarms only breed panic and political instability."
"This is not panic—it's prudence!" Jor-El's voice rose. "The difference between past cycles and this one lies in the exponential growth rate of the anomalies. There is no historical record of anything of this magnitude."
A narrow beam of light projected from Brainiac's core, displaying smooth graphs and linear forecasts. The artificial voice rang out, precise and neutral:
"Models of geological instability show insignificant variation during the observation period. Probability of planetary destruction within the next one thousand cycles: 0.0002%. Conclusion: no action necessary."
The chamber fell silent. Some councilors nodded, others avoided Jor-El's gaze. Lor-Van leaned forward.
"It is decided, Master El. Your research into interstellar travel will be suspended. Resources will be redirected toward areas with proven benefit to our society."
Jor-El stood still for a moment, breathing deeply. Then, in a controlled voice, he declared:
"When Krypton shakes for the last time, I will remind you of this decision. And if there is still time, I will find a way— with or without this Council's support."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the chamber, the echo of his boots on marble sounding like a silent oath.
Kryptonopolis – Rural Area, House of El Residence:
A few weeks later, the El family home remained silent, set apart from the domes and towers of the capital. Built on a rocky slope, its architecture reflected both Kryptonian tradition and the practicality of a home devoted to study: translucent walls of reinforced crystal, arched ceilings, and corridors leading to a large subterranean annex — Jor-El's private laboratory.
Inside, the space was wide and open, lit by thin streams of bluish light descending from the ceiling. Circular tables overflowed with gravitational measurement instruments and seismic scanners, projecting streams of data into hovering holograms. In the center of the lab sat something covered by a dark tarp — large, with indistinct contours. Jor-El passed by it more than once without sparing a glance, as if it wasn't the focus of his work… yet its silent presence seemed to wait for its moment.
Standing before a semicircular console, Jor-El studied the charts displaying Krypton's core: undulating lines and bursts of energy growing more frequent and intense with each new reading. His expression was grim.
"Kelex," he called, without looking away from the projections.
The household robot — a sleek metallic figure with precise, fluid movements — approached.
"Yes, Master Jor-El. The latest readings have been processed." Kelex's voice was calm, but there was a faint, almost artificial hesitation in it. "The patterns confirm our previous findings: a continued increase in seismic instability."
Jor-El stroked his chin, lost in thought.
"It's no longer just a remote possibility…" he murmured to himself. "The core is entering uncontrolled resonance. Radioisotopic pressure in the inner layers is rising at a rate unlike anything in our records. If this continues… Krypton won't survive into the next generation."
Kelex projected a calculation into the air.
"According to your estimates, core collapse will occur within twenty to thirty solar cycles."
"Or less," Jor-El corrected, his eyes hardening. "If the gravitational anomalies maintain this pace, the time left could be cut in half."
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the equipment. Jor-El closed his eyes briefly, drawing a slow breath.
"And the Council… still blind. Trusting Brainiac's calculations as if they were the voice of Rao itself."
Kelex tilted forward slightly.
"Do you intend to continue *that* project?"
"I don't *intend* to." Jor-El's eyes opened again, sharp as steel. "I *will*. Even if I have to do it beyond their reach. If Krypton is going to die, I will not stand still waiting for the last tremor."
His fingers danced over the console, saving the data into a crystal memory. Behind him, under the tarp, the concealed shape remained still — waiting… as if it were part of a plan only Jor-El truly understood.
Kryptonopolis – Last Day of Krypton:
An object tore away from Krypton at incredible speed, slicing through the thin atmosphere stained by the crimson glow of Rao.
It was **Brainiac**—now reduced, compacted into an orbital module, a self-sufficient satellite—abandoning the doomed planet to preserve its own existence. Its trajectory ripped across the void, fleeing both the dying star and the world on the brink of ruin.
Beneath the isolated residence of the House of El, the laboratory was bathed in flashing lights and the wail of seismic alarms. Dust drifted from the ceiling, and thin cracks snaked across the reinforced crystal floor. The distant roar of tectonic plates breaking apart rumbled like subterranean thunder.
At the center, resting on an angled platform, the ship was nearly complete: a sleek silver-and-crystal vessel with smooth, aerodynamic lines, built to withstand the violence of space and the leap into hyperspace.
Jor-El moved rapidly from one station to another, adjusting energy flows, checking the stability of the propulsion core, sealing the final armor panel. His fingers worked with surgical precision, but his breathing was heavy—every second lost was another gamble.
Behind him, Lara stood with their infant son cradled in her arms. Kal-El slept fitfully, unaware of the chaos devouring his world, while the muffled roar of quakes grew stronger.
"Jor-El…" Lara's voice was laced with urgency and grief. "The main city's seismographs have collapsed. The crust is splitting in multiple regions."
"I know," he answered, never pausing in his work. "The gravitational pulses are out of control… Rao is killing us, Lara. Everything we predicted—it's all happening now."
She stepped closer, her gaze locked on the ship. "Then… it's certain. We won't survive?"
Jor-El drew a sharp breath and glanced at her briefly. "Not here." He turned back, fastening the panel with a metallic snap. "But *he* will." He nodded toward Kal-El. "Our son will not die with Krypton."
She clutched the baby tighter. "You're sending him so far… to a world we've never seen."
"We know enough," Jor-El said firmly. "Compatible atmosphere, lower gravity… he'll be strong there. Stronger than anyone. And he'll have the chance to live—to choose his own path."
A deafening tremor shook the lab, tools clattering to the floor. Without hesitation, Jor-El took Kal-El from Lara's arms and gently placed him into the ship's padded cradle. The inner lights flared to life, casting a soft glow over the infant's serene face.
Lara touched her son's tiny hand one last time. "Be free, my love…"
Jor-El sealed the hatch and initiated the launch sequence. The deep growl of ignition filled the chamber. Side by side, he and Lara stepped back as the small vessel rose from the platform.
The planet trembled like a living thing in agony. And amid the chaos, the hope of the House of El prepared to leave Krypton forever.
Krypton writhed under the weight of its own death. Ancient mountains collapsed into rivers of fire, while entire oceans rose as walls of water, shattering against land in violent fury. Rao's crimson light, once a promise of life, now burned as a crushing glare that painted the skies in blood. Entire cities—once jewels of intellect and science—were swallowed by gaping wounds in the earth, without mercy or distinction. The sound of destruction was not merely noise—it was the last hymn of a world saying farewell to itself.
High above, piercing the thinning, unstable air, a single ship pushed through the chaos. Tiny against the enormity of the disaster, yet carrying a burden beyond measure: Krypton's last son. Inside, Kal-El lay wrapped in light, unaware of his planet's death and the desperate love that had set him on this path. Each explosion below seemed to push him further away, as though Krypton, in its dying breath, was lending its final strength to ensure his survival.
As the planet broke apart into a crown of flaming debris, the ship cleared the last edge of its dying sun. The automated systems marked a safe distance, and the main engine ignited with a sharp, blue flash. In a silent leap, space bent around it, the stars stretching into pure lines of light… and Kal-El vanished into hyperspace, carrying with him the living memory of a world that would never exist again.
I am the Watcher, and this is the beginning of the greatest legend ever told.
---
Krypton falls in flames,
the sky dissolves in pain.
A son departs among the stars,
bearing a name—and the love that remains.