Chapter 135: General Zod Arrives
Metropolis shook.
The impact resembled a small extinction-level event.
A shockwave erupted outward from the collision point, sweeping across the ruined city with overwhelming force. Buildings that had somehow survived the World Engine's devastation finally collapsed beneath the pressure. Windows shattered. Steel frameworks twisted. Entire streets buckled.
At the center of it all, a crater more than a hundred meters wide appeared instantly.
The bottom had been transformed into black glass.
The sheer heat generated by atmospheric reentry and impact had vitrified the earth itself.
Captain America was thrown backward by the blast.
He spun several times through the air before slamming his vibranium shield into the ground to arrest his momentum.
Even then, he slid dozens of meters.
Elsewhere, Tony Stark barely maintained control of his damaged armor as the shockwave battered him through the air.
Across the battlefield, even Superman was forced backward.
Dust consumed everything.
Visibility vanished.
Communication channels filled with static.
"Visual confirmation?"
Nick Fury sounded unusually tense.
"Can anyone see the target?"
"Negative."
Tony's reply came immediately.
"The dust cloud is too dense."
A brief pause.
"Jarvis. Infrared."
"Negative, sir. Residual plasma interference exceeds acceptable parameters."
Another pause.
"Switching to gamma-spectrum analysis."
Three seconds later:
"I have two biological signatures."
Tony frowned.
"Meaning?"
"One signature is located at the crater center."
A brief pause.
"The second is approximately two meters from the first."
Tony blinked.
"...Repeat."
"The masked individual has not been displaced."
"The maximum positional deviation is less than two meters."
Silence.
A Kryptonian warrior had descended from orbit at over Mach 25.
The collision should have resembled a tactical missile strike.
And the masked man had moved less than two meters.
The dust slowly began settling.
The scene inside the crater became visible.
At its center stood General Zod.
Barefoot.
Armor discarded.
Only a black Kryptonian combat undersuit remained.
His body radiated heat.
The last traces of plasma flickered across his skin.
His muscles remained tensed in the posture of impact.
Two meters away stood Lynn.
Unmoved.
The white mask remained pristine.
The combat robe remained untouched.
Only two shallow footprints marked his position.
Each measured roughly three centimeters deep within the glass-like surface.
Those footprints represented the entirety of the collision's effect.
Zod's chest rose and fell heavily.
His eyes glowed faintly red.
Not from anger.
From biology.
Heat Vision activation.
Uncontrolled.
The yellow sun flooded every cell of his body with power.
As established throughout Kryptonian lore, newly empowered Kryptonians often experienced severe sensory overload when first exposed to prolonged yellow-sun radiation.
Super hearing.
Microscopic vision.
X-ray vision.
Enhanced sensory input from every direction simultaneously.
For most beings, the experience would be unbearable.
For Zod, it lasted approximately three seconds.
Then it ended.
Because Zod was a soldier.
A product of Krypton's military caste.
Adaptation was not a skill.
It was instinct.
"You..."
The Kryptonian language emerged as a low growl.
"...are not from Earth."
Lynn didn't answer.
Zod attacked.
Again.
This time there was no meteor-like charge.
No brute-force collision.
Instead, he employed formal Kryptonian military combat techniques.
The punch traveled along the shortest possible trajectory.
Perfect alignment.
Maximum efficiency.
No wasted movement.
A textbook strike from a warrior who had spent decades fighting across the stars.
The fist crossed the distance instantly.
Lynn raised one hand.
Palm open.
Impact.
A dull explosion echoed across the crater.
The glass-like terrain shattered outward from the point of contact.
Cracks spread more than ten meters before stopping.
Yet Lynn didn't move.
Not even slightly.
His hand simply closed around Zod's fist.
For the first time, genuine shock appeared in Zod's eyes.
That punch contained everything he currently possessed.
Not his future peak.
Not yet.
But enough force to level mountains.
Enough force to devastate armies.
Lynn caught it one-handed.
Without shifting his stance.
Without lowering his center of gravity.
Without even leaning backward.
Zod pulled.
Nothing happened.
He pulled harder.
Still nothing.
Lynn's fingers remained locked around his hand.
Like restraints forged from neutron stars.
At the edge of the crater, Superman arrived.
He hovered above the destruction and stared downward.
For a moment, his mind stopped processing information.
He had already fought Zod.
He understood better than anyone how dangerous the Kryptonian general was.
Zod's combat skills far exceeded his own.
Every strike was calculated.
Every movement refined through decades of warfare.
Clark could withstand Zod.
But catching one of his punches barehanded?
And remaining completely motionless?
That was another matter entirely.
"Be careful!"
Clark's voice echoed through the crater.
"He's adapting!"
"He gets stronger every second under the yellow sun!"
Lynn already knew.
The All-Seeing Eye continuously updated Zod's biological status.
Strength increasing.
Speed increasing.
Durability increasing.
Every second brought measurable improvement.
But Lynn wasn't concerned.
Because he was improving too.
The Intermediate Immortal Divine Body's Stellar Energy Cycle operated continuously.
The same yellow sun empowering Zod was empowering him.
The difference was scale.
Zod had started climbing from the bottom.
Lynn had started halfway up the mountain.
And was still climbing.
The gap wasn't shrinking.
It was widening.
"Kal-El spent over thirty years beneath Earth's sun."
Lynn finally spoke.
His voice emerged from behind the white mask.
Deep.
Cold.
Emotionless.
"You've been exposed for less than two minutes."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And you believe you can erase three decades of adaptation in two minutes?"
Zod answered with a roar.
His free fist lashed out instantly.
This time Lynn didn't catch it.
Not because he couldn't.
Because he didn't need to.
He shifted slightly.
The punch missed.
At the same moment, Lynn's hand closed around Zod's forearm.
Then he pulled.
Hard.
The result was immediate.
Zod lost balance.
His body was lifted completely off the ground.
Then hurled.
Like a missile.
Like artillery.
Like a cannon shell.
The Kryptonian general tore through the crater wall and vanished underground.
The impact continued for nearly two hundred meters.
Rock exploded.
Concrete shattered.
Steel bent.
Only then did he stop.
Several seconds later, Zod emerged from the rubble.
Blood stained the corner of his mouth.
Pain shot through his left arm.
Nothing was broken.
Kryptonian physiology prevented that.
But the shoulder joint had been violently strained.
His healing factor immediately began repairs.
Yet it lagged behind Superman's.
His adaptation remained incomplete.
Then he looked up.
And saw the masked figure approaching.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Each footfall reduced nearby rubble to powder.
Not intentionally.
The ground simply struggled to bear the weight of the power contained within Lynn's body.
Zod wiped the blood away.
For the first time in many years, uncertainty appeared.
He was General Zod.
Veteran of more than a century of military campaigns.
A commander who had fought across countless worlds.
A soldier whose record ranked among Krypton's greatest.
No enemy had ever casually caught his fist.
Not once.
Not in all his years of war.
And yet—
This man had done it twice.
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