For most Kryptonians in the city, the affairs of the H'el family weren't particularly noteworthy. After all, everyone knew the H'els had birthed one clansman modeled after a scientist's template—(ironically enough).
According to Kal-El, captain of the H'el family's personal guard, Jor-El's recent movements had grown increasingly strange. More than once, he had been spotted near the Genesis Chamber, though most of the time he remained secluded inside his own fortress.
And what lay within the central Genesis Chamber of the city?
The Codex of Life.
The longer Jor-El lingered at home, the less time remained for Jon.
"Phew… at least I've familiarized myself with most of the knowledge. Now, it's up to time to help it all sink in. Jor-El, don't you dare disappoint me!"
His gaze swept toward a particular district of the city—the domain of the El family. The Els were far from insignificant on Krypton; they even held seats in the Council of Elders. Otherwise, Jor-El could never have become Chief Scientist, the man steering Krypton's technological destiny.
Suddenly, a thought struck him. Should he pay a visit? To see for himself a Kryptonian born naturally—something not seen for tens of thousands of years?
Though that child would one day betray Krypton, it still represented a possible future. Even if, for Krypton, it was a failed one.
"Kal-El, come with me."
Outside the manor, two flying beasts had already been prepared. Yes—winged beasts. On Krypton, many preferred traveling and leisure on these unique avians, claiming it was fashionable. Jon never understood the appeal.
But what could he do? He had no choice. As an adult, he knew well what happened to anyone who dared stand apart from the crowd.
The bird that sticks out usually ends up shot.
"Beep—beep—beep!"
Inside the El manor, Jor-El was enjoying an intimate moment with his wife Lara when the household's security intelligence system chimed.
Lara tensed, panic flashing in her eyes. Though bearing children wasn't forbidden, natural births were so rare on Krypton—appearing only once every tens of millennia—that her worries were only natural.
Jor-El soothed her gently. "Don't worry. I'm here."
"Sir, Jon H'el is outside the manor requesting entry. Shall we grant access?"
Jor-El froze. The Els had little to do with the H'els, and their relationship wasn't especially warm. Why would the H'els' youngest son come here?
"Is he alone?"
"Scans detect one Kal-El H'el accompanying him."
Two people, then. But for what purpose?
Lara murmured, "I heard he was created from a scientist's template?"
Jor-El understood at once. Could it be he'd come to discuss scientific matters? He shook his head. Whatever the reason, it was best to welcome them in first.
The manor's intelligence system opened the gates and led the two inside. Before long, they entered the hall, where Jor-El sat waiting—the man who would one day be labeled Krypton's traitor.
"Greetings, Lord El. Forgive the intrusion," Jon said.
"Jon, what a rare visit. What brings you here today?" Jor-El replied with a playful wink, his tone light and witty.
Jon sneered inwardly. Old fox—what fine acting.
"Hmm? Where's Lady Lara?" he asked aloud.
"She's feeling unwell and is resting. Did you need her?" Though his words were casual, Jor-El's mind sharpened in caution.
Jon paused, then dropped the subject. His eyes fixed intently on Jor-El.
"Jon, what's troubling you? If there's something I can help with, just say the word." Jor-El's enthusiasm was flawless; his expression betrayed nothing.
"Tell me, Lord El—where does Krypton's future lie?"
He spoke the words, then sat down uninvited. Jor-El hesitated only briefly before joining him. Their gazes locked, each measuring the other's spirit. Jor-El realized in that instant that perhaps the people of Krypton had misjudged the young H'el. Jon was far from simple.
"What exactly are you implying, Jon?"
"Nothing much. According to Kryptonian history, we've always roamed the cosmos, expanding, migrating. Each time a world was pushed to its limits, we sought another—youthful, resource-rich—then reshaped it to suit us."
"We migrated, began anew. But now… Krypton has stopped rotating. And yet, the Council seems to have no intention of leaving. Lord El, tell me—why?"
Jor-El's face remained calm, but his heart quaked. These were the very words he had spoken countless times in the Council chambers—only to be dismissed. Ignored. Assured that everything would be fine.
But he was a scientist, not a politician. No one understood Krypton's peril better than he did. Yet if the leaders refused to act, what could he do?
"Perhaps the Council has its own considerations, Jon. Don't you think?" Jor-El took a sip of water to moisten his lips, as if it could ease the unease tightening his chest.
"Then why is the rest of Krypton kept in the dark? Do you know your responsibility, Lord El?"
Jor-El set down his glass, displeasure flickering in his eyes. "Jon, you need to understand something. I am Krypton's Chief Scientist—not you. As for other matters, I am not a politician, much less a Council Elder. If you want answers, look elsewhere. Don't come here to interrogate me. Do you understand?"
Jon nodded and rose. At the doorway, he turned back.
"You believe Krypton's future rests with your unborn child? Do you really think you have the right to decide that?"
Without another word, he left. Kal-El followed silently, unsettled. His young master seemed to know more than he should. Krypton? The future? And Jor-El's child? There had been no reports of Jor-El and Lara conceiving a child…
Inside, Lara emerged. "They're gone?" she asked, finding Jor-El sitting frozen in thought.
"Lara, I believe our child is Krypton's true future. Not Krypton itself, but our child. Krypton is doomed—but our child holds infinite hope."
Her maternal gaze softened as she touched her rounded belly. She longed for the child's birth, but deep down… she knew this was a dark era.
"Everything will be alright, won't it?"
"Of course. I promise," Jor-El whispered, holding her close.
After a long silence, he finally spoke again. "That H'el boy knows something."
"Knows what?"
"About Krypton. The Council has always known that staying here means destruction. But they refuse to leave. They're afraid—of what, I don't know. But I cannot let our child grow up in this doomed world."
Lara said nothing. Every Kryptonian loved their world, yet none could change what was coming. Not even her husband.
The Codex was Jor-El's true aim. Clark could never be Krypton's future.
Truthfully, even with the Codex, Clark was weak. Decades under Earth's yellow sun, and still he nearly lost to Zod—a Kryptonian who had just arrived.
The difference lay in templates. Zod was born of the warrior's template; battle coursed in his very genes, pure instinct. Clark, by contrast, had passively accepted his gifts, never truly explored them.
In plain words—lazy, foolish. Wasting what others would kill to possess. Holding the Codex yet leaving its power untouched. How could such a man be Krypton's future? How was he worthy of the Codex?
Two months later—
"Young master, everything's been loaded. The ship is equipped with the most advanced intelligence. This here is the control core, and your personal key." Moos handed him a small black ornament, engraved with an H—the sigil of House H'el, symbolizing balance. (The House of El bore the S, symbol of hope. We'll use this version.)
It was the ship's master key, containing permissions once belonging to his grandfather.
Kallaka, a Council Elder, had near-supreme access. With it, Jon could command Kryptonian technology—and even Kryptonians themselves—so long as no higher authority countermanded it.
They said this was a "gift" from his grandfather upon hearing of his modifications to the ship. But Jon knew better. It was a passing of the torch.
"Thank you, Moos. How are the rest of the family?"
"The same as always."
Moos chuckled. Kallaka had more than one son; Jon's father Abel had brothers, and many branches scattered across Krypton—soldiers, governors, commanders.
Today, Jon wore a new suit, one he had painstakingly engineered. High-tech fabric, resistant enough to withstand small missile strikes. Once under Earth's yellow sun, paired with his bio-field, it would become even stronger.
Why didn't the Hulk's pants rip? Why didn't Superman's suit shred? Because of this—
the bio-field.
Invisible, untouchable, yet undeniably real. The external extension of life itself. In martial worlds, it would be called—Domain.
Some species used their bio-fields as language, as communication. Rare, but powerful—those that could manifested astonishing abilities. Like the insectoid swarms. Like the Chitauri.
(Not all Chitauri were the same; many were cybernetically modified. Their hive structure was why slaying the leader made the army collapse. See Marvel's Chitauri. See Starship Troopers' Arachnids.)
On Krypton, life continued as always. Feasts, gatherings, revelry. As though nothing was wrong.
"A carnival before doomsday?" Jon muttered, frowning.
Word spread that General Zod had begun rallying loyalists. Jon smirked. Zod might be a general, but in peacetime he had no authority to command the army—only his fanatics.
It meant the time was near.
"Good thing I've prepared in advance. Otherwise, I'd be lost."
With a research ship ready, his escape route was secure. All that remained was to seize the Codex when the moment came—
and leave Krypton. Leave this DC universe behind.
"Let's hope nothing goes wrong."