The World Engine's central command chamber was silent.
At the far end of the vast metallic hall, General Zod sat upright in his command throne. Even at rest, he radiated authority—broad shoulders, rigid posture, a presence honed by decades of war.
Around him stood the remnants of his loyalists.
They had survived not through luck, but through exile. The Supreme Council had banished them to the Phantom Zone before Krypton's destruction—an unintended mercy that spared them from planetary annihilation.
There were barely more than a dozen aboard the World Engine.
But unlike the crew of the Aquarius, these were not scientists or engineers.
They were soldiers.
"We sent four to retrieve one captain," a warrior muttered. "Why is it taking this long?"
"Perhaps they are reminding him how to show respect."
Low laughter followed.
Zod said nothing.
He had not ordered brutality—but he had not forbidden it either.
Time stretched.
Then a voice cut across the chamber.
"They've returned."
Through the forward observation array, a small beetle-shaped transport approached the World Engine's docking bay.
It slid inside the fortress-like hull and settled into its cradle.
Warriors gathered near the bay entrance.
"Don't kill him," one said lightly. "We need every Kryptonian we can get."
The airlock cycled open.
The gangway extended.
What rolled down first was not a prisoner.
It was Derek.
He tumbled down the ramp and landed heavily at the base, armor cracked, consciousness barely intact.
Silence fell.
Then another body.
And another.
Spencer. Ellie.
Finally, Faora-Ul herself was lowered carefully, though even she bore visible damage.
Murmurs rippled through the gathered soldiers.
"What—"
"This is impossible."
The last figure descended the gangway under his own power.
Black cloak shifting lightly. Expression composed.
Rhael Zane.
His gaze swept the chamber once.
A single look was enough to quiet the room.
Several warriors bristled immediately.
One broke formation without thinking.
"You humiliated them—!"
He launched forward in a direct charge.
The fight lasted less than a second.
A dull impact echoed through the bay.
The charging warrior rebounded mid-stride and slammed into the wall with enough force to fracture both armor and plating. He slid down, coughing blood, barely conscious.
Rhael lowered his hand.
"One punch," someone whispered.
The damage spoke for itself.
Zod rose from his throne.
The air shifted.
His presence alone altered the emotional gravity of the room.
He walked forward, each step deliberate, stopping several meters from Rhael.
Up close, the resemblance between them was undeniable. Both engineered for conflict. Both standing beneath alien stars.
But the difference was experience.
Zod's voice carried like steel.
"You enter my vessel," he said, "and assault my soldiers."
"They assaulted me first," Rhael replied evenly.
A pause.
Zod's eyes flicked briefly toward Faora. She gave the slightest nod.
Assessment acknowledged.
"You claim to have destroyed a Kree fleet," Zod said. "My officers returned broken. That lends weight to your statement."
"It was not a claim," Rhael said.
Silence again.
The tension was not merely physical.
It was ideological.
"You speak as if you intend to command," Zod observed.
"I intend to rebuild," Rhael corrected. "And I don't answer to a relic of the old Council."
A murmur ran through the chamber.
Zod's jaw tightened.
"You misunderstand," he said. "I do not represent the Council. I represent Krypton."
Rhael met his gaze directly.
"So do I."
The words landed heavier than any strike.
Zod studied him carefully now—not as an insolent captain, but as a potential rival.
"You believe strength grants authority?" Zod asked.
"In our current reality?" Rhael said. "Yes."
Another beat passed.
Rhael's eyes sharpened slightly.
"This ship," he said calmly, "and everyone aboard it—your resources, your soldiers—are necessary."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I've come to collect them."
The room erupted in anger.
"How dare you—"
"You stand before General Zod—!"
Zod raised a hand.
Silence returned instantly.
He stepped closer.
"You presume much," Zod said quietly. "Do you believe I cannot end you?"
Rhael didn't flinch.
"I believe," he answered, "that you should try."
The challenge hung in the air.
Not shouted.
Not dramatized.
Simply stated.
Zod's eyes narrowed.
For the first time, something like approval flickered there.
"Very well," he said. "You will have your demonstration."
The last two Kryptonian leaders stood facing one another in the heart of the World Engine.
Behind them, the surviving remnants of a dead empire waited.
Only one of them would lead.