Chapter 136: A Slap
"What exactly are you?"
The question came in Kryptonian.
For the first time since arriving on Earth, General Zod sounded calmer.
Not because his rage had diminished.
Because his military instincts had reasserted themselves.
Zod was a soldier first.
A warrior second.
A conqueror third.
Even consumed by fury, decades of Kryptonian Military Guild training prevented him from completely abandoning tactical judgment.
The being standing before him was not an opponent he could overpower through brute force.
Not yet.
Lynn offered no answer.
Instead, he walked forward.
One step.
Then another.
Stopping roughly five meters away.
The All-Seeing Eye continued updating Zod's biological status in real time.
His adaptation rate remained astonishing.
Within barely a minute of direct exposure to the yellow sun, his effective combat output had climbed from approximately sixty percent to nearly seventy-five percent.
At this rate:
Ten minutes might bring him close to Superman's current level.
An hour might allow him to surpass it.
Assuming he survived that long.
"You're strong."
Lynn's voice emerged from behind the white mask.
Calm.
Measured.
"Considerably stronger than your adjutant."
At the mention of Fiora, killing intent flashed through Zod's eyes.
"What happened to her?"
"I slapped her."
Silence.
A vein visibly pulsed along Zod's temple.
Lynn continued as though discussing laboratory results.
"The force generated by your punch was approximately three times greater than hers."
He nodded slightly.
"Respectable."
Then added:
"But that's all."
The last restraint snapped.
Zod's eyes ignited.
Heat Vision.
Two crimson beams erupted from his pupils.
Unlike Fiora's undeveloped version, this attack reflected the superior genetic potential of a Kryptonian military commander.
The beams tore through the air and slammed directly into Lynn's chest.
The black combat robe absorbed most of the thermal output.
The remaining heat penetrated only to encounter the Immortal Divine Body's stellar energy membrane.
The energy vanished.
Converted.
Stored.
Recycled.
Lynn looked down.
A fist-sized scorch mark had appeared on his robe.
"My clothes are damaged."
Zod increased output immediately.
The beams thickened.
Temperature climbed.
Five thousand degrees.
Six thousand.
Seven thousand.
Approaching eight thousand degrees Celsius.
The red glow gradually shifted toward orange-white.
Air around the impact zone ionized.
Thermal distortion spread visibly across the crater.
Rock began melting.
Glass-like channels formed beneath the stray radiation.
Lynn remained motionless.
The Intermediate Immortal Divine Body absorbed everything.
The Stellar Energy Cycle converted incoming thermal energy directly into usable power.
Simultaneously, Vibranium Resonance consumed the kinetic component hidden within the beam.
For Lynn, the attack functioned less like a weapon and more like an external power supply.
"Enough."
He raised one hand.
Not to defend himself.
Simply to shield his eyes from the glare.
Then—
Two beams erupted from behind the mask.
Not red.
Orange-white.
Brilliant.
The appearance resembled concentrated plasma rather than conventional Heat Vision.
The attacks collided.
The result was immediate.
Lynn's beams pierced straight through Zod's.
No stalemate.
No struggle.
No contest.
The crimson beams split apart like water encountering a blade.
Fragments scattered across the battlefield and carved deep trenches into nearby cliffs.
Lynn's attack continued forward.
Directly into Zod's chest.
"RAAAAGH!"
The Kryptonian general roared.
His body was hurled backward.
A charred wound appeared across his torso.
The damage wasn't fatal.
But it was real.
For the first time since arriving on Earth, Zod had been burned by an opponent.
Military-caste Kryptonian durability remained formidable.
Yet he still hadn't completed adaptation to Earth's yellow sun.
His defenses weren't fully mature.
Not yet.
Lynn lowered his gaze.
He made no attempt to pursue.
There was no urgency.
The burns were already healing.
The All-Seeing Eye tracked the regeneration process effortlessly.
Every second, yellow-sun radiation strengthened Zod.
Every second, his healing accelerated.
Soon it would rival Superman's.
Eventually, it might exceed it.
But that future remained hypothetical.
Zod looked down at the wound.
Then watched it heal.
His breathing deepened.
Heavy.
Animalistic.
A trapped predator.
Throughout his entire life, he had been the superior force.
The stronger combatant.
The dominant presence.
Entire civilizations had collapsed beneath Kryptonian military campaigns.
Now someone was treating him the way he treated everyone else.
The humiliation cut deeper than the injury.
"Why?"
The question emerged unexpectedly.
Lynn raised an eyebrow beneath the mask.
Zod continued.
"Why are you helping Earth?"
The fury remained.
But now something else existed beside it.
Confusion.
Genuine confusion.
"You carry traces of Kryptonian power."
His eyes narrowed.
"You're clearly not an ordinary human."
"Why stand with them?"
Lynn tilted his head slightly.
"Who told you I'm standing with them?"
Zod froze.
For perhaps the first time since arriving on Earth, he didn't immediately understand what he was hearing.
Lynn continued.
"I'm standing on my own side."
He pointed toward the ruined battlefield.
"Your World Engine nearly crushed my medical pod."
Then toward the destroyed city.
"I dismantled it."
A brief pause.
"That's all."
Zod stared.
The answer genuinely exceeded his ability to process.
A being possessing power beyond his own.
A being capable of destroying a World Engine.
A being who had humiliated Krypton's greatest military commander.
And his reason amounted to:
You damaged my property.
The absurdity was overwhelming.
"You're mocking me."
"No."
Lynn shook his head.
"I'm explaining reality."
Silence followed.
Then Zod made a decision.
No more dialogue.
No more analysis.
No more restraint.
Only war.
Visible heat began rising from his skin.
Kryptonian cells accelerated beyond safe operational limits.
Every reserve he possessed was forced into immediate combat output.
A dangerous choice.
One that sacrificed long-term efficiency for short-term power.
But Zod no longer cared.
He intended to win.
Or die trying.
He vanished.
His speed exceeded anything he had previously displayed.
The ground detonated beneath him.
Seven attacks followed almost simultaneously.
Fists.
Elbows.
Knees.
Each aimed at a lethal target.
Each perfectly positioned.
Each representing the highest level of Kryptonian military combat doctrine.
Battlefield Domain activated.
Instantly.
Every trajectory became visible.
Every angle.
Every timing sequence.
Every follow-up.
The entire assault unfolded before Lynn like a completed equation.
The first punch.
A slight tilt of the head.
Missed.
The second strike.
A raised knee.
Blocked.
The third.
A palm redirected the elbow.
The fourth.
A minimal shift of the torso.
Avoided.
The fifth.
Parried.
The sixth.
Dodged.
Then came the seventh.
Zod's knee.
Superheated.
Accelerating toward Lynn's abdomen.
This time Lynn didn't evade.
He simply raised one hand.
Palm downward.
And slapped.
Not a punch.
Not a strike.
A slap.
A casual motion.
Almost dismissive.
Yet within that movement flowed:
The Immortal Divine Body's overwhelming physical power.Perfect Kryptonian physiology.Gamma-adaptive strength.Stored kinetic force accumulated through Vibranium Resonance.
The palm connected with Zod's knee.
CRACK.
The sound echoed across the battlefield.
The knee joint folded.
Not broken.
Kryptonian biology prevented that.
But destabilized.
Violently.
The force traveled through the entire leg.
Then through the rest of his body.
Zod's charge ended instantly.
His body was hammered downward.
Not knocked down.
Not pushed down.
Hammered.
Like a nail being driven into wood.
The ground exploded.
Rock shattered.
Glass-like terrain disintegrated.
Dust and debris blasted dozens of meters into the air.
A crater formed within the crater.
At its center stood Zod.
Half-buried.
One knee forced deep into the earth.
Lynn remained standing exactly where he had been.
He lowered his hand.
Then casually flicked his fingers.
As though shaking dust from them.
The gesture somehow felt more insulting than the slap itself.
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