"How long has it been?"
Inside the vast control hall of the spacecraft—spanning over a thousand square meters—a burly, middle-aged man seated at the central command chair spoke in a deep, commanding voice.
"Reporting, General. It has been twenty-seven years since we were exiled to the Phantom Zone,"
Faora replied respectfully after checking the console and turning around.
"Twenty-seven years already…"
One of the steel walls of the command hall suddenly unfolded, transforming into a fully transparent viewing panel.
Outside, the shattered remains of Krypton drifted silently in space.
"Krypton has been reduced to this state," the man said quietly.
"And we have become homeless wanderers of the universe."
He stared at the broken planet beyond the glass, lost in thought.
"General, what should we do now?"
Among the eleven subordinates gathered behind him, the bald scientist Jax spoke up. The others shared the same look of uncertainty.
"Although our fellow Kryptonians once abandoned us—
even cast me into the Phantom Zone—we still carry Kryptonian blood in our veins."
Zod turned to face his subordinates, his voice resonant and powerful.
"And now, Krypton has been destroyed!"
"Destroyed by those ignorant and short-sighted council elders!"
"But that only proves one thing—
our beliefs were right all along."
He raised his voice.
"Therefore, I have decided to uphold our original conviction.
We will find a habitable planet and rebuild a new Krypton—
one founded entirely upon our ideals of freedom!"
He looked at each of them in turn.
"You are the last warriors of Krypton. Are you still willing to follow me? To stand by my side?"
"We will obey the General's command forever!"
Six of them immediately dropped to one knee, fists pressed to their chests, shouting in unison.
A sharp smile appeared on Zod's angular face.
Then he turned his gaze to one man.
"The Codex of Kryptonian life is in Jor-El's son," he said.
"Before his capture, it seemed they sent the child to a life-bearing planet."
"What do you think, Nam-Ek?"
The man addressed as Nam-Ek pondered for a moment before replying:
"Jor-El never acted without preparation. He would have sent his son to a location he had already arranged—most likely a life-bearing planet we previously explored and marked in our star charts."
"There may even be contingency assets there," he continued,
"such as Kryptonian knowledge archives."
"But those systems require artificial intelligence support,
and that intelligence requires a power source—namely, a spacecraft."
Zod slammed his hand onto the armrest.
"Exactly! Ken-En, begin searching immediately for Kryptonian spacecraft signals!"
"Yes, General!"
Ken responded and quickly returned to the control console.
Several hours later—
"General! The detection system has received a signal from the Milky Way—
the IS-15 star system. It's a GS-DA reconnaissance ship!"
Zod burst into laughter.
"Jor-El never imagined I would escape the Phantom Zone."
"The safeguards he left behind for his precious son, have instead become the beacon that will lead us straight to him!"
At that moment, Ken exclaimed excitedly:
"General! We've detected a Terraformer vessel drifting in vacuum!"
Zod's eyes lit up.
"Excellent! Send a recovery team immediately. At the very least, assemble a functional planetary terraforming unit!"
"Fortune favors us," he added with satisfaction.
"To find a Terraformer so soon after leaving the Phantom Zone!"
Jax quickly interjected:
"General, although Krypton has exploded, many ships and fragments remain largely intact."
"With those materials, we can construct a small fleet—
complete with full production capabilities."
Nam nodded in agreement.
"Jax is right, General. We still don't know the technological level of Earth."
"We should prepare thoroughly before heading there. We're not short on time."
Zod nodded slowly.
"You're right. How long will the preparations take?"
"Approximately fifty to sixty days," Jax replied.
"That depends on how much usable material we recover."
"Then proceed," Zod declared firmly.
"For our future—
for New Krypton!"
---
Earth
May 1st, 2004
International Labor Day.
People around the world were buzzing with discussion about recent events.
The first was that just after 5 a.m., many witnesses reported seeing a red meteor streak across the sky.
Those who saw it claimed to have felt an inexplicable surge of anxiety and anger afterward.
Some even believed it was a sign of a demonic descent, sparking heated debates online.
The second topic had already been trending for months—
A guardian had appeared in Metropolis, wearing a blue bodysuit and a bright red cape.
He could fly, fight, and endure immense damage.
He would resolve incidents in the southern district—then appear in the north in the blink of an eye.
Metropolis residents, once envious of Philadelphia's low crime rate, were now enjoying the benefits of having a superhero of their own.
Online polls eventually gave him a name:
Superman.
The "S" emblem on his chest, combined with his extraordinary abilities, made the name feel inevitable.
However, while many admired him, some criticized one thing—
He never killed.
If time permitted, he would even drop criminals off at the nearest police station.
Compared to the infamous "Terminator" of Philadelphia, who struck terror into every criminal's heart, Superman was almost gentle.
After all, crossing paths with Superman might leave you with broken bones.
But encountering the Terminator?
Being crippled would be the best possible outcome.
Even Gotham's dark vigilante—the black bat darting through its rebuilding streets—was infamous for brutal interrogations and psychological torment.
The final trending topic was also about the Terminator.
Because he had been missing for nearly two months.
---
As Clark sat down in the newsroom and skimmed through the headlines, a faint smile appeared on his face.
After all, anyone would feel good reading praise about themselves.
"Clark, you seem unusually energetic today," Perry White said with a grin.
"Why don't you go chase this story?"
Clark looked at the assignment sheet tossed onto his desk and smiled helplessly.
"Boss, you've got to be kidding. I'm still an intern—how could I run a story on my own?"
Perry chuckled.
"Don't sell yourself short, Clark."
"Even though you're new here, I can tell you've got talent."
He clapped Clark on the shoulder.
"Trust my judgment—and more importantly, believe in yourself."
___
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