DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

Earth, beyond the atmosphere.

Directly above New Jersey, hovering over Metropolis.

The Brainiac Sentinel Space Base, nearly 8,000 meters in length, stretched across the outer atmosphere, like a behemoth resting at the height of the Himalayas.

When transformed into a 3,000-meter-tall mechanical jellyfish, its interior would contract tightly, turning into a full war machine, uninhabitable by any living being.

Only when unfolded and laid flat in its base form could it accommodate life. At that point, mechanical soldiers moved throughout, constantly monitoring and recording data.

This massive hunk of cold metal, resting silently above the atmosphere, had shocked the entire world and the leadership of every nation when it first appeared.

Likewise, the battle between Bardi and the mechanical jellyfish—this mechanical creation surpassing Earth's technological understanding by centuries—was easily destroyed and captured by Bardi, becoming his prize. This shook the world even more.

The shockwaves from that event nearly overturned the governments of Earth.

"Damn it! He's getting stronger again, both in technology and power!"

"What do we have to resist him?!"

"The alliance must act now."

"We must find his weakness!"

"We have to destroy him!"

"Attack and seize the kryptonite!"

"Now. Immediately! Move!"

On the ground in Nevada, inside a secret, pitch-black underground base, representatives from all over the world gathered—superpowered teams, presidents, kings, and prime ministers from nearly forty nations. Through encrypted communication channels, they shouted with rising urgency. Around them, members of the special power teams representing each country sat in silence or fidgeted uneasily.

A tense and volatile atmosphere hung over the scene.

Any one of Bardi's actions, from the nuclear bombing of Paradise Island, to his handling of the Brainiac Sentinel, to his acquisition of the space base, had triggered massive uproar and widespread fear on the surface of the Earth.

"Calm down. The time hasn't come yet. The inside agents in the Emperor's Building are still being arranged."

Deathstroke sat at the head of the round table, his face cold and composed. In front of him was a projection of the Emperor's Building, displaying the visible and accessible routes they had been able to map.

The Emperor's Building was vast and towering, more than 2,000 meters in height. Its lower structure resembled a pyramid, and its vast internal space could accommodate 350,000 ordinary people just for office work.

That didn't include the underground research labs, biological facilities, mechanical development chambers, submarine-grade creations leading into the ocean, and a modified kryptonite spaceship that had now been transformed into an amphibious space carrier.

It was the foundation of Bardi's dominance over Metropolis and the entire world—a thorn driven into the heart of the United States.

Smack!

An Arab man in white gauze robes, resembling traditional Saudi dress, with half of his dark, muscular chest exposed, stood up. He was over two meters tall, powerfully built, with strength dozens of times that of a normal human. He was a representative.

"How much longer?! My country has been taken over by generals who have submitted to Barmulodi. The royal family has fallen!"

"Damn it! He's siding with the poor, rewriting the laws, and trampling the dignity of royalty."

"In a few months, the royals will be overthrown by these paupers, and Chattertou will be his domain!"

His face was filled with rage. He slammed his palm onto the dark red hardwood table, leaving a deep handprint. Cracks spread from the impact, and the entire table shook. The water in everyone's cups rippled from the tremor.

Prince Tetu of the Saudi Tetu royal family stood seething. His dark skin stretched tightly over veins like dragons. He panted heavily and roared in anger.

"Candado is facing the same situation. Barmulodi is propping up the poor as figureheads and fighting against the aristocracy. Half our nation is already lost."

"The British royal family has been controlled by the vice president. The military is under his command, and all government affairs in Parliament now pass through Barmulodi's hands."

"Japan's highest authority is dead. Now, all you see are his subordinates wearing face-changing projection devices."

"Russia is at war. Their animal-gene soldiers were slaughtered by Kryptonian warriors. This operation is our only hope."

"Korea is gone… We want revenge!"

"A German general rebelled. The entire garrison was massacred."

"The newly emerging Paradise Island was hit with a nuclear strike from Barmulodi. That mysterious ancient nation is barely hanging on."

"Eastern regions…"

"Australia…"

"The entire world is crumbling. We can't wait anymore."

Deathstroke silently scanned the people seated at the round table—Zatara the magician from the UK, a psychic-knight female warrior in shining armor, a muscular enhanced-human from Saudi Arabia, the representative of the Ten Eastern Heroes, the Steel-bodied Iron General, Dr. Hikaru from Japan, a gravity-controlling geofighter from Eastern Europe… and many more. Each one was the most classified weapon in their respective nations.

Once, they were the ultimate defense and deterrent of their countries, a threat to outside invaders. Now, they had been summoned for the most dangerous mission.

To infiltrate the Emperor's Mansion, steal kryptonite, fight Barmulodi, and rescue their nations from destruction—perhaps even save the future of the planet.

Under the blinding white lights, Deathstroke's single eye swept across each of the angry, calm, or anxious superpowered individuals. Nearly every country's extraordinary population had already been corrupted by Bardi. Some were being absorbed, while others had already had their leadership replaced by Barmulodi's people.

This group represented their nations' final chance.

You're going to die… Am I supposed to stop it?

Deathstroke muttered silently in his heart. His face remained cold. His lone eye gleamed with a chilling light. He swept his gaze across the room and said, "Not long. Just two more days."

Next came the tactical assignments from Deathstroke. Each individual's strengths and weaknesses were carefully evaluated, and they were assigned to various target zones—under the cover of operations, infiltration missions, and retrieval protocols.

Under the guise of retrieving kryptonite, each operative was directed to predetermined kill zones inside the Emperor's Building. Along the way, they would be isolated one by one, then quietly eliminated.

Inside Bardi's artificial intelligence system, the Hera Database, Deathstroke had already submitted detailed information for analysis. Each nation's operatives had been assessed for their abilities.

Some operatives defied clear analysis, powers that were strange or excessively dangerous. For those, Bardi compared their profiles with comic records.

For the rest—those unremarkable or unfamiliar, meticulous contingency plans had been prepared, covering everything from physical threats to bizarre magic, ensuring each would experience despair before death.

This operation.

Was a march toward annihilation.

(To be continued.)

***

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