Superman:Man of Steel

by Mtle232

As a new era of heroes begins, follow Clark Kent's journey from small-town farm boy to becoming Earth's first public hero. While reports of Tony Stark's disappearance dominate headlines, Superman emerges in Metropolis, facing the brilliant but ruthless Lex Luthor and battling Metallo, a cyborg powered by fragments of his destroyed homeworld. Book 1 of the MDCCU

1. Chapter 1

SUPERMAN: MAN OF STEEL

A MARVEL & DC CINEMATIC UNIVERSE Story

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Chapter 1: The Last Son

The endless expanse of the cosmos stretched into eternity, a tapestry of swirling nebulae and glittering stars. Galaxies danced in their cosmic ballet, while countless worlds spun through the darkness - each one holding its own stories, its own heroes, its own destiny. Through this grand theater of existence, a singular figure drifted, watching, observing. His form was both ancient and timeless - a being of impossible height with piercing luminescent eyes that had witnessed the birth of universes. His elongated head and flowing midnight-blue robes seemed to merge with the very fabric of space-time itself, as if he were as much a part of existence as existence was of him.

"Time…"

From streams of ethereal light, a shimmering image emerged - T'Challa in his Black Panther suit, the vibranium weave of his armor catching the cosmic radiance. Beside him, the dark silhouette of Batman materialized, his cape flowing in an unseen wind, the pointed ears of his cowl casting sharp shadows against the stellar backdrop.

"Space…"

Captain Marvel appeared in a burst of photonic energy, her power radiating outward. Next to her, Wonder Woman descended from above, her golden lasso gleaming as it caught the celestial light. The Amazon warrior's presence matched Carol's commanding aura.

"Reality…"

Iron Man's armor gleamed as he emerged from the cosmic void, while a streak of scarlet lightning heralded the arrival of the Flash, electricity crackling around him as he took his place among the heroes.

"It's more than a linear path."

Thor and Black Widow materialized from the ethereal mist, followed by Captain America. Green Lantern appeared in a wash of emerald light, his ring pulsing with power. The cosmic tapestry began to fracture, creating windows into countless lives.

"It's a prism of…endless possibilities."

Superman hovered into view, his cape billowing majestically, as Aquaman emerged from what appeared to be an ocean made of starlight. The fractures in reality multiplied exponentially.

"Where a single choice can branch out into infinite realities."

The cosmic tableau shattered like a kaleidoscope, each fragment revealing different moments in time. Peggy Carter at the SSR, the Hulk battling the Abomination, while new realities bled through - Captain Carter with her shield held high, and a zombie-ravaged world where the Hulk fought for survival. Among these fragments, new visions appeared: Superman landing in Soviet Russia instead of Kansas, Batman wielding a Green Lantern ring, Wonder Woman leading an army of Amazons in modern-day metropolis.

"Creating alternate worlds from the ones you know."

The Watcher's form coalesced fully, the cosmic star blazing over his right eye as he observed the infinite tapestry of possibilities before him.

"I am the Watcher. I am your guide through these vast new realities. Follow me and ponder the question…What If…?"

The infinite shards of light began to coalesce, each one telling a story of courage, sacrifice, and hope.

"What makes someone a hero?" The Watcher's voice echoed through the cosmos as images formed in the ethereal light.

"Is it what they do?" Images flashed of Tony Stark forging his first Iron Man suit in a cave, alongside Bruce Wayne dedicating his life to justice in the shadows of Gotham.

"Is it what they stand for?" The view split between Steve Rogers refusing to surrender against overwhelming odds, and Diana Prince stepping into Man's World to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

"Or is it the light they bring to others?" New visions appeared: Thor learning humility among mortals, Barry Allen using his speed to save lives rather than change the past, T'Challa balancing tradition with progress, and Hal Jordan overcoming fear itself to become a Green Lantern.

"Is it how they face their inner demons?" The images showed Bruce Banner embracing the Hulk within, while Arthur Curry united the surface and sea despite being torn between two worlds. Natasha Romanoff choosing redemption over her dark past, and Victor Stone accepting his cybernetic nature to become Cyborg.

"Or is it something you are born to be?" Multiple scenes played out: Peter Parker learning about power and responsibility, Black Canary training young heroes, Wanda Maximoff overcoming loss to protect others, and Billy Batson using the wisdom of Solomon to guide his heroic journey.

"Throughout the vast omniverse, where infinite realities exist, I have witnessed countless heroes rise and fall. I have seen the Infinite Crisis reshape existence itself, watched as Secret Wars redefined the boundaries of reality. And now, I witness something unprecedented - two multiverses, once separate, now intertwined into a single tapestry of destiny."

The cosmic fragments shifted to show a dying world of towering metallic spires and advanced technology, its red sun casting an otherworldly glow across the landscape.

"Doomed planet. Desperate scientists. Last hope. Kindly couple. Superman."

In a chamber of gleaming metal and desperate hope, Jor-El and Lara shared one final embrace as they placed their infant son into a star-shaped vessel. Tears streaming down her face, Lara pressed a gentle kiss to her baby's forehead while Jor-El's hand rested protectively over the House of El crest. As the planet crumbled around them, they shared one last kiss before launching their only son to the stars.

The scene transformed to a quiet Kansas night, where Martha and Jonathan Kent stood in their cornfield, staring in wonder at the small craft that had fallen from the heavens. Martha reached in, gently cradling the crying infant, whose tears ceased the moment she held him. Jonathan wrapped his arms around them both, knowing in that moment their lives would never be the same.

The final fragment expanded to show a red and blue figure soaring through the gleaming spires of Metropolis, sunlight catching the iconic 'S' shield on his chest as he flew upward, ever upward, leading humanity toward the light.

"One choice... one act of desperate love on a dying world would change the fate of not just one species, but of an entire reality. Their last son would become humanity's greatest protector, its brightest hope. He would face trials... he would know doubt... but through it all, his light would never dim. And in time, he would lead humanity into a new age of wonders."

In the 847th cycle of the New Era (Earth year 1980), beneath the crimson light of Rao, Krypton's dying star, a world of impossible architecture and biotechnological wonders faced its final days. The harsh conditions of the Planet Krypton, along with its red sun, had shaped not just its inhabitants but the very essence of their civilization. The planet's surface was a testament to millions of years of technological evolution – massive metallic spires that seemed to defy gravity rose from ancient bedrock, their surfaces adorned with intricate geometric patterns that pulsed with energy.

These structures weren't merely buildings, but the culmination of thousands of years of architectural and technological advancement. The cities of Krypton rose from the planet's rocky terrain like mountain ranges of metal and stone, where biotechnology and engineering merged seamlessly. Each tower, each monument, served multiple functions – from atmospheric processing to energy generation, all integrated into their design with an efficiency that spoke to Krypton's mastery of science.

Both the native fauna and the Kryptonians who called it home had adapted to survive under gravity nearly triple that of Earth's, developing dense molecular structures that made them extraordinarily resilient. The harsh environment of their world had influenced their evolution, leading to a species perfectly adapted to their challenging world.

Krypton's history stretched back into antiquity, telling the tale of a civilization that once reached for the stars. They were explorers and colonists who ventured out into the cosmos, establishing outposts across dozens of worlds. Those were times of peace and plenty, when Krypton's influence stretched across the galaxy, and its people shared their advanced technology and culture with countless other species.

But like all golden ages, it couldn't last forever.

As Krypton's resources began to dwindle, the ruling council made decisions that would forever alter the course of their civilization. They implemented strict artificial population control measures, believing they could maintain their way of life by carefully managing their remaining resources. The outposts on other worlds were abandoned, deemed too costly to maintain. The great ships that once carried Kryptonians across the stars were dismantled, their materials repurposed for the ever-growing cities that now dominated the planet's surface.

Yet these measures proved insufficient to prevent what was to come. For beneath the surface of their dying world, a dark secret lurked—one that would spell doom for their entire civilization. The planet's core held a burgeoning Celestial embryo, a cosmic entity of unimaginable power that was nearing its emergence. Should that come to pass, Krypton would be destroyed, its people scattered to the cosmic winds.

The Kryptonians' understanding of the Celestials came from millennia of scientific advancement and archaeological discovery. While other species might still view these cosmic entities as gods, Krypton had long since pierced the veil of mythology to understand the truth. The Celestials were the oldest race in the universe, vast beings of pure energy and matter who had seeded life throughout the cosmos since before the dawn of creation.

In Krypton's early history, the people had worshipped one such Celestial as their god, naming it Rao. They built great temples in its honor, crafted intricate mythologies around its presence in the sky. But as their civilization advanced, as their understanding of the universe grew more profound, they came to recognize Rao for what it truly was—a Celestial who had chosen their world as part of its grand design.

The discovery of the Celestial embryo within Krypton's core came through the brilliant work of Jor-El, widely regarded as Krypton's greatest scientist. Through years of study and observation, he had pieced together the truth about their world's increasing instability. His research revealed that Celestials seeded themselves within planets harboring intelligent life, growing over millions of years until they were ready to emerge—a process that would inevitably destroy the host world.

In his tireless research to understand Krypton's increasing geological instability, Jor-El had made a terrifying discovery - a Celestial embryo growing within the planet's core. Despite initial skepticism, the severity of his evidence had forced the Science Council to acknowledge the threat. They authorized him to implement his proposed solution - a sophisticated containment field that he believed would halt the Celestial's growth. Using Krypton's most advanced technology, Jor-El had worked tirelessly to save their world.

The initial readings after the containment field's activation seemed positive, and the Council quickly declared the crisis averted. They resumed their normal functions, satisfied that Krypton's greatest scientist had preserved their way of life. But Jor-El's continued monitoring of the core revealed a horrifying truth - instead of stopping the emergence, the containment field had acted as a catalyst, accelerating the process. What should have taken centuries would now unfold in a matter of months, if not weeks.

When he presented this devastating new data to the Council, they dismissed his warnings entirely. Having already accepted one impossible threat, they refused to believe they could have made things worse. His former allies now viewed his continued concerns as the paranoid ramblings of a scientist who couldn't accept his own success. Only two others believed him: his wife Lara, whose faith in him never wavered, and his old friend General Lor-Zod, whose military experience had taught him to trust Jor-El's judgment.

The Council attributed the increasing tremors to the containment field's normal operation, their own carefully maintained data showing nothing more than expected geological adjustments. Even as the quakes grew more frequent and violent, they chose to believe their own optimistic interpretation rather than face the horrible truth. The great towers of their cities still stood proud, while only three people knew the truth of their impending doom.

Yet even in these darkest of times, hope persisted. On what would later be recorded as the last Day of Ascension in Kryptonian history, the distinct sounds of new life echoed through the halls of the House of El. The pained screams of Lara Lor-Van, wife of Jor-El, reverberated through their dwelling as she underwent something that hadn't been seen on Krypton for centuries—a natural childbirth.

In their private medical chamber, where advanced biotechnology monitored every aspect of the birth process, Jor-El held his wife's hand as she labored to bring their son into the world. Lara's face was flushed with exertion, her dark hair matted with sweat—a sight that would have scandalized traditional Kryptonians, who viewed such displays of physical effort as beneath their dignity.

"You're doing wonderfully, my love," Jor-El encouraged, his usually composed scientific demeanor cracking under the weight of emotion. "He's almost here." The medical monitors pulsed steadily, tracking both mother and child's vital signs with precise accuracy.

Lara's grip on his hand tightened as another contraction seized her. The medical droids, their metallic forms gleaming under the red sunlight that filtered through the high windows, moved around them with precise efficiency. One of them spoke in the precise, measured tones common to Kryptonian artificial intelligence: "The child's position is optimal. Completion of delivery expected within the next three contractions."

Through gritted teeth, Lara managed a smile. "Three more," she gasped. "We've waited so long... what's three more?"

Jor-El pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mingling in the space between them. "Our son will be worth every moment of pain, every challenge we've faced. He will be extraordinary, Lara. I feel it in my bones." He left unspoken the knowledge that their child would need to be extraordinary to survive what was to come.

The next contraction came stronger than before, and Lara's cry echoed off the metallic walls. The medical droids moved with practiced precision, their forms adapting to better assist with the delivery. But Lara had insisted on doing this as naturally as possible, accepting their monitoring but refusing their intervention unless absolutely necessary.

"One more push," the lead medical droid announced. "The child's head is crowning."

With a final, tremendous effort, Lara bore down. The room filled with a new sound—the strong, healthy cry of a newborn taking his first breath. Jor-El's hands trembled as he assisted the medical droid in cleaning the child, wrapping him in the traditional birthing clothes of the House of El, its fabric embedded with microscopic sensors to monitor the newborn's health.

When he placed their son in Lara's arms, both parents wept openly. The baby's cries softened as he felt his mother's warmth, his tiny fingers grasping at the air. Above his head, a holographic display showed his vital signs—all of them exceptional, even by Kryptonian standards.

"My son," Jor-El whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Many years from now, when they tell the story of your life, of all your accomplishments and achievements, they will be telling the story of Kal-El."

He bent down to kiss his son's forehead, marveling at the perfection of his features. Kal-El's eyes, already showing hints of the brilliant blue they would become, seemed to focus on his father's face with an intensity that belied his newborn status.

Lara reached up to touch her husband's face, her fingers brushing away his tears. "He has your eyes," she said softly. "And your father's brow. The House of El lives on in him."

The moment of joy was interrupted by a violent tremor that shook the building to its foundations. The monitoring systems flashed warning signals across their screens as the stability of the structure was tested. Both parents tensed, knowing what it meant. The planet's core was becoming more unstable with each passing day, and these tremors were becoming more frequent—a direct result of Jor-El's failed attempt to contain the Celestial embryo.

Jor-El's face hardened with resolve. "I need to check the readings," he said, reluctantly pulling away from his family. He moved to a nearby console, his fingers dancing across the holographic interface. The display that materialized before him confirmed his fears—the core's instability was accelerating even faster than his most pessimistic projections had suggested.

"How long?" Lara asked, holding Kal-El closer to her chest as another, smaller tremor shook the room.

"Days," Jor-El replied, his voice heavy with the weight of this knowledge. "We have days at most. The council must be informed. They can no longer deny the evidence of what my intervention has caused."

As if in response to his words, the communication console on his desk lit up with an urgent message. It was from his old friend and colleague, Non, who had been monitoring the core fluctuations from the Science Guild's main facility.

"The readings are worse than we feared, Jor-El," Non's holographic image reported, his face grave. "The containment field isn't just failing—it's creating a feedback loop with the Celestial embryo. Each attempt to reinforce it only accelerates the process. The council has called an emergency session."

Jor-El shared a look with Lara, both of them understanding what this meant. Their time was running out faster than they had anticipated. The plan they had been working on in secret—the small spacecraft designed to carry their son to safety—would need to be completed immediately.

"I'll be there shortly," Jor-El responded to Non. After the transmission ended, he returned to his wife's side, gathering both her and their newborn son in his arms.

"We always knew this day would come," he said softly. "But I had hoped... I had hoped my actions would save our world, not hasten its destruction."

Lara's voice was steady despite her tears. "You tried to save our people, my love. There is no shame in that. Now we must focus on saving our son. Our Kal-El will live, Jor-El. He must live. All our hopes, all our dreams... they will go with him."

Looking down at Kal-El, now sleeping peacefully in his mother's arms, Jor-El felt the weight of destiny settling upon his shoulders. This child, born in the twilight of their civilization, would carry with him not just the legacy of Krypton, but the potential to become something entirely new.

"Rest now, my love," he told Lara, helping her settle more comfortably as the medical bed adjusted to provide optimal support. "I must attend the council session, but I'll return as soon as I can. We have precious little time to complete our preparations."

As he left the medical chamber, Jor-El's mind was already racing with calculations and adjustments needed for the spacecraft. Their son's survival would depend on perfect execution of their plan. There could be no mistakes, no hesitation.

---

Several days later…

Jor-El called for an immediate emergency session with the ruling council of Krypton to go over the catastrophic consequences of their actions. "Do you not understand what you've done? My attempt to halt the Celestial's emergence was dangerous enough, but harvesting its energy? Krypton's core is now collapsing at an accelerated rate! Why didn't you heed my warning!" Jor-El shouted.

"We needed energy. You, yourself proved it was possible when you accessed the Celestial's power to create the containment field." A councilmember reminded him.

"Yes, and my intervention has already accelerated the emergence beyond what we predicted. I told you to take no action in trying to extract more cosmic energy until I could understand the consequences. The Celestial Rao may have blessed Krypton and our space sector with life, but we still do not know what dangers we may have brought onto ourselves." Jor-El told them. "We are dealing with forces beyond our control and we may now only have a matter of weeks. I warned you that any further tampering would be catastrophic."

"Our energy reserves were exhausted. What would you have us do, Jor-El?" A councilman asked him.

"Look to the stars, like our ancestors did! There are habitable worlds within reach. We can begin by using the old outposts." Jor-El told them.

"As you seriously suggesting that we evacuate the entire planet?" The head councilwoman asked him.

"No. Everyone here is already dead." Jor-El stated. "Give me control of the Codex. I will ensure the survival of our race. There is still hope. I have held that hope in my hands."

[BOOOOOOOOOOM!]

Jor-El and the others were surprised by a sudden explosion that destroyed the council chamber door and produced a thick cloud of smoke. The three guards by the door were quickly gun downed by energy blasters. Through the smoke Jor-El could make out the silhouettes of people before he saw General Zod walk through flanked by members of his own personal regiment. All of them were wearing their armor and carrying weapons. "This council has been disbanded!" Zod announced.

"On whose authority?" The councilwoman was insulted at his presence and interruption.

"Mine." Zod raised his blaster and fired a blast dead center at the councilwoman, killing her. "The rest of you will be tried and punished accordingly!"

Zod nodded to his second, Faora-Ul and she ordered her men to seize the rest of the Council. "What are you doing, Zod? This is madness!" Jor-El told him.

"What I should have done years ago. These lawmakers, with their endless debates, have led Krypton to ruin!" Zod shouted.

"How can you place all the blame on them alone, Zod? I was the one who attempted to halt the Celestial's emergence - an action that only accelerated our doom. This is as much on my hands as anyone's." Jor-El reminded him.

"No! You tried to save us! It was these fools who harvested the energy despite your warnings. You warned them and I warned them and now our planet is doomed. I've held my tongue and did my duty but no more!" Zod blasted another councilor in anger. "No more will we let these idiotic bureaucrats lead our people to extinction!"

"And if your forces prevail…you'll be the leader of nothing." Jor-El informed him.

"Then join me. Help me save our race my friend." Zod pleaded with Jor-El. "You are Krypton's greatest scientist and the most brilliant man in this entire galaxy of the universe. You alone discovered the truth hidden in our planet's core and you alone had the courage to act. If the council had listened to your warnings instead of exploiting your work, we would have more time. So, join me and use that intellect of yours towards our salvation. We'll start anew. We'll sever the degenerative bloodlines that led us to this state."

Jor-El could see through Zod's words of honey to find the poison underneath. "And who will decide which bloodlines survive, Zod? You?"

"Don't do this, Jor-El. The last thing I want is for us to be enemies." Zod told him.

"You have abandoned the principles that held us together. You've taken up the sword against your own people! I will honor the man you once were, Zod…not this monster you've become." Jor-El answered and Zod was disappointed in his friend.

"Take him away." Zod ordered so three men took him away for detainment. As they walked down the hallway, Jor-El's service robot arrived.

"Sir, is everything all right?"

"Out of the way!" The soldier ordered only for Jor-El to give the drone a subtle nod before closing his eyes. The drone released a bright flash of light that blinded the three soldiers and gave Jor-El his moment to act. Jor-El knocked a gun away and headbutted the soldier on his left before punching the soldier on his right in the side. He grappled with him and knocked him into the third guard before blasting one of the men with an energy blast. He was hit in the face but quickly recovered, kicking out the soldier's leg and then elbowed the soldier behind him before blasting the two of them dead.

"Get me Lara." Jor-El ordered and the drone connected him to his wife.

"Jor. Behind you!"

Jor-El quickly turned and blasted two more of Zod's men. "Lara, prepare the lab. I'm coming for the Codex."

Jor-El walked out of the Council building and saw a literal civil war being waged between Zod's faction and the part of Krypton's army that stayed loyal to the council he was trying to overthrow. Jor-El called his flying mount and hurried to Krypton's incubation and genesis chamber where Krypton's children were grown. Without fear, Jor-El dove into the chamber and retrieved the Codex which was the skull of an ancient Kryptonian and is the genetic template for every single Kryptonian yet to be born. It's what would allow the Kryptonian race to be reborn and continue onward.

After stealing the Codex, Jor-El returned to his home where the House of El's faithful Kryptonian hounds, Zyra and Tor, greeted him at the entrance. Their newborn pup, Krypto, bounded around their feet, still too young to understand the gravity of the situation. In his lab, Jor-El immediately began the delicate procedure that would ensure Krypton's legacy would live on through his son.

"Begin cellular integration," Jor-El commanded as he placed the ancient skull-like Codex into a scanning chamber. Streams of data filled the air around him as the genetic information contained within began to decrypt. "Kelex, initiate the bonding sequence."

The process was unlike anything attempted in Kryptonian history. As the Codex's information was decoded, specialized energy fields began to rewrite Kal-El's cellular structure at the quantum level. Every piece of genetic information, every strand of Kryptonian DNA, was being carefully woven into his son's cells. Kal-El slept peacefully through the procedure, unaware that he was becoming something unprecedented – a living repository of his entire civilization.

"Integration at sixty percent," Kelex reported. "Cellular stability maintaining optimum levels."

Jor-El watched the readings carefully. If this worked, his son would carry within him the genetic codex of every Kryptonian yet to be born. Not just their DNA, but their potential, their future, their hope. The procedure took hours, but finally, the last sequences aligned.

"Integration complete. The Codex has been successfully merged with Kal-El's cellular matrix."

Upon confirmation of the procedure's success, Jor-El lifted his sleeping son, feeling the weight of their civilization's future in his arms. It was then that his security systems alerted him to approaching forces. He knew Zod would come. Quickly, he donned his family armor, its metallic surface automatically conforming to his body.

The doors to his lab burst open. Zod entered with two of his soldiers, their weapons raised. Zyra's protective growl filled the chamber while Tor positioned himself between the intruders and Krypto, who huddled behind his father.

"I know you stole the Codex, Jor-El. Surrender it and I'll let you live." Zod offered, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

"This is a second chance for all of Krypton. Not just the bloodlines you deem worthy." Jor-El stated, and Zod's eyes narrowed as he sensed something had already been done.

"What have you done?"

"We've had a child, Zod. A boy child. Krypton's first natural birth in centuries. And he will be free to forge his own destiny." Jor-El said with all the pride he had as a father.

"Heresy!" Zod's face contorted with rage. "Destroy it!"

Before his men could fire, Jor-El had already moved. Two precise shots from his sidearm dropped the soldiers, but Zod was already charging forward. The two men collided with bone-crushing force, years of military training evident in their movements.

"Stop this madness, Zod!" Jor-El pleaded as he blocked a series of strikes. "We were friends once!"

"Friends?" Zod landed a devastating punch to Jor-El's ribs. "Friends don't betray their people's future!"

They crashed through a console, sparks flying as they grappled. The fight carried them across the lab, neither man holding back. Zod's military training matched against Jor-El's desperate need to protect his son. Their combat moved like a deadly dance, each anticipating the other's moves from years of sparring together.

"You would doom us all with your misguided ideals!" Zod snarled, activating his wrist blade. The metallic weapon extended from his armor, its edge gleaming in the red sunlight streaming through the windows.

"No, Zod. I'm trying to save us!" Jor-El caught Zod's blade arm, straining against his friend's strength. "But not through genocide. Not through deciding who lives and who dies!"

The blade inched closer to Jor-El's throat. "Sometimes the old must be cut away for the new to flourish!"

With a desperate move, Jor-El slammed his forehead into Zod's face, using the momentum to twist the blade arm. There was a sharp crack as the wrist blade broke off, falling to the floor between them. In the same fluid motion, Jor-El snatched up the broken blade and slashed defensively as Zod lunged forward again. The blade caught Zod across the left side of his face, opening a deep gash from his temple to his jaw. Blood streamed down his face as he staggered back, his hand touching the wound that would become a permanent reminder of this day.

"Look at what you've become!" Jor-El shouted, still holding the bloodied blade. "The honorable man I knew would never murder children!"

"The man you knew died with the hope of Krypton!" Zod charged again, his rage intensified by the injury, but his fury made him reckless.

Jor-El dodged the wild attack, getting behind Zod and driving him to his knees. He raised the broken blade, its edge pressing against Zod's throat. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. All the years of friendship, of brotherhood, flashed through Jor-El's mind. Memories of their youth, of battles fought side by side, of celebrations shared and hardships weathered together.

He couldn't do it. Even after everything, he couldn't kill his friend.

Instead, Jor-El struck Zod with the blade's hilt, knocking him unconscious. As Zod slumped to the floor, the sounds of battle outside grew louder. Krypton's loyal forces had arrived, engaging Zod's remaining soldiers in the streets around the House of El.

"Secure the traitors!" a commander shouted as troops rushed in, quickly taking custody of Zod and his fallen men. "Are you alright, Jor-El?"

"Yes," he answered, though the word tasted bitter in his mouth. He watched as they dragged Zod's unconscious form away, remembering the friend he once was, wondering how it had come to this. The broken wrist blade lay on the floor, a symbol of their shattered friendship.

---

Several Days Later...

The remnants of Krypton's High Council gathered in the Chamber of Justice, its ancient walls bearing witness to what would be one of their final acts. Only three councilmen remained of the original body, survivors of Zod's violent coup attempt. The chamber, normally filled with the quiet dignity of scholarly debate, now thrummed with tension. Armed guards lined the perimeter, their weapons trained on the thirteen prisoners kneeling in the center of the vast room.

Lara stood beside Jor-El, cradling baby Kal-El protectively in her arms. The infant slept peacefully, unaware that he carried within his cells the future of their entire civilization. Jor-El's face remained stoic, though his hand never left the small of Lara's back – a subtle gesture of support and protection.

General Zod and his followers had been stripped of their military insignias, their armor replaced with simple grey prisoner garments. The fresh scar running down the left side of Zod's face stood out starkly against his pale skin, still raw and angry – a permanent reminder of his final confrontation with Jor-El.

The surviving Councilman, his face still bearing scorch marks from Zod's attack on the chamber, stepped forward. His voice carried the weight of authority, though it trembled slightly with barely contained anger. "General Dru-Zod, you and your conspirators stand accused of high treason, attempted overthrow of the lawful government of Krypton, and the murder of High Councilwoman Ro-Zar and two other council members. How do you plead?"

Zod lifted his chin, defiance blazing in his eyes. "I plead that I acted to save our people while you sat in your towers and debated us into extinction!"

"And you, Jor-El," the Councilman continued, turning his stern gaze to the scientist. "You stand accused of theft of the Genesis Codex, violation of our most sacred reproductive laws, and the performance of illegal genetic procedures. How do you answer these charges?"

Before Jor-El could speak, Zod's voice rang out. "The great Jor-El, reduced to a common thief? No. He is a visionary who saw what needed to be done while you ignored the death throes of our world!" His eyes fixed on the baby in Lara's arms. "But to merge the Codex with that... abomination? That natural birth? You've corrupted everything!"

"My son is not an abomination," Jor-El's voice carried across the chamber with quiet authority. "He is Krypton's salvation. In him, our civilization will survive and grow in ways we never imagined. Not through rigid control, but through freedom of choice."

The remaining council members visibly recoiled at the mention of natural birth, their faces twisting with disgust. "This... child," another councilman spat the word, "is an affront to thousands of years of genetic perfection. You will remove the Codex from it immediately."

"I cannot," Jor-El stated firmly. "The integration is complete at the cellular level. The Codex is now part of him, as inseparable as his own DNA."

"Then you doom us all!" Zod surged to his feet, the guards immediately moving to restrain him. The fresh scar on his face pulled taut with his rage. "You speak of salvation through chaos! Our entire civilization, left to the whims of random chance!"

The surviving councilmen deliberated briefly before the lead Councilman spoke again. "General Zod, for your crimes against Krypton, you and your conspirators are hereby sentenced to three hundred cycles of somatic reconditioning in the Phantom Zone." He turned to Jor-El. "And you, Jor-El, for your crimes against our laws and traditions, you and your house are confined to your residence until the Codex can be safely extracted from the child."

Zod's laughter, bitter and hollow, echoed through the chamber. "You sentence us to a fate worse than death while this traitor corrupts everything we are!" He looked directly at Jor-El and Lara, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You think distance and dimension will stop me? I will find him. Wherever you hide him, whatever world you send him to, I will track him across the stars themselves." His eyes locked onto the sleeping Kal-El. "I will reclaim what you have stolen from us. The Codex belongs to Krypton!"

"Enough!" The lead Councilman commanded. "Proceed with the sentencing."

The guards activated their weapons, energy fields surrounding each of the prisoners. Faora-Ul, Zod's most loyal lieutenant, stood proud even as the stasis field began to take hold. "For Krypton," she declared, her voice unwavering.

"For Krypton!" the other soldiers echoed as the crystalline structure of the stasis field crawled across their bodies.

Zod's eyes never left Jor-El and his family as the crystal began to encase him. "I will find him!" he shouted, his voice distorting as the field took hold. "I will find him, Jor-El! Lara! And You will bow down before me, Jor-El. I swear it! No matter that it takes an eternity! YOU WILL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME! BOTH YOU, AND THEN ONE DAY, YOUR HEIRS! I will find him! I WILL FIND HIM! "

Ice crystals formed across Zod's skin as the cryogenic stasis took hold, his face forever frozen in a mask of rage, that final threat still echoing through the chamber. Each prisoner was systematically frozen, their bodies encased in sheets of ice, suspended in individual containment pods. The pods were loaded onto the dark, angular phantom drive ship that would carry them into their eternal exile in the Phantom Zone. Even as the freezing process completed, Zod's eyes remained fixed on Kal-El, their burning intensity unchanged until the very last moment before the ice claimed him completely.

As the ship rose into Krypton's crimson sky, Jor-El watched with a complex mixture of emotions – sadness for the friend he had lost, determination for the path ahead, and fear for his son's future. The council guards immediately moved to escort the House of El to their residence.

"You've doomed us all," one of the surviving councilmen muttered as they passed.

"No," Jor-El replied quietly, looking down at his sleeping son. "I've given us a future. One free from the chains of our own making." He turned to address the council one final time. "You can confine us, but you cannot stop what's coming. Krypton's heart is already beating in my son's chest, and through him, our people will have a chance to live again – not as a stagnant society bound by rigid tradition, but as something new, something greater."

The council guards escorted the House of El back to their residence, their weapons never lowering despite Jor-El and Lara's peaceful compliance. Behind them, the phantom drive ship carrying Zod and his frozen conspirators rose into the crimson sky, beginning its journey to the Phantom Zone. Zod's final threat still echoed in their minds: "I will find him!"

Once inside their home, the guards established a security perimeter, their orders clear – the House of El was to remain confined until the council could determine how to extract the Codex from the child. But they didn't understand that time was a luxury Krypton no longer had.

In the Temple of Rao, the few remaining priests gathered for what they knew would be their final prayer. Their voices echoed through the vast chambers as they chanted ancient hymns, even as the ground beneath their feet trembled with increasing violence. The head priest, his face lined with age and wisdom, looked up at the towering statue of their celestial god and whispered, "So it ends as it began, in fire and transformation."

Deep beneath the surface, in the vast network of geothermal power plants that helped power Krypton's cities, engineers worked frantically to maintain stability. Warning signals blared as sensors detected massive energy fluctuations from the planet's core. "The readings are off the scale!" one technician shouted over the din of failing machinery. "The containment field isn't just failing – it's accelerating the process!"

In their private chambers within the House of El, Jor-El and Lara worked with practiced efficiency to complete their final preparations. The guards outside their residence were too distracted by the increasingly violent tremors to notice the subtle hum of machinery behind the sealed doors. The launch pod that would carry their son to safety stood ready, its phantom drive humming with carefully contained power.

"Sir," one of the younger guards called through the door, his voice betraying his fear as another tremor shook the building, "perhaps we should evacuate you to a more secure location?"

"There are no more secure locations," Jor-El replied calmly while continuing his work. "The council's failure to heed my warnings has doomed us all. Save yourselves if you can."

The ancient cape of the House of El lay carefully folded beside the launch pod, its fabric seeming to shimmer with the weight of generations of history. As Jor-El made the final adjustments to the navigation systems, he could hear the guards outside beginning to abandon their posts, the preservation of their own lives finally outweighing their duty.

"Kelex, final systems check," Jor-El commanded.

"All systems are functioning at optimal levels," the robot reported. "The phantom drive is stable and the coordinates for Earth have been locked in."

Lara stood at a nearby console, monitoring the increasingly unstable readings from the planet's core. "The emergence is accelerating," she said, her voice tight with controlled fear. "We have minutes, not hours."

Through the high windows of their chamber, they could see the chaos unfolding across Kryptonopolis. The surviving council members were now frantically trying to organize an evacuation, though they had nowhere to go. Transport vehicles filled the sky as people attempted to flee, though there was nowhere safe to go. The great towers that had stood for millennia were beginning to collapse, their advanced materials finally failing under the astronomical forces being generated from within the planet.

In the streets below, crowds of people ran in panic as the ground split open, revealing rivers of molten rock that glowed with an unnatural blue energy – the power of the awakening Celestial bleeding through the planet's crust. The automated defense systems tried vainly to maintain order, their holographic warnings drowned out by the sound of destruction.

"Kelex, have you confirmed the coordinates?" Jor-El asked, double-checking every detail of their plan.

"Yes. Planet Earth. Orbiting a yellow sun, just as you specified." Kelex answered, displaying a holographic map of their son's destination. The image showed a blue-green world that seemed so far removed from Krypton's harsh environment.

"Earth? The planet your ancestors visited?" Lara asked, momentarily distracted from her monitoring.

"Yes. Its yellow sun will make him stronger than we could ever imagine." Jor-El explained as Kelex displayed information about the planet's native species. "Under that sun, his cells will drink in its radiation. He'll have powers we can only dream of."

"But they're so primitive, so barbaric," Lara protested, though her voice held more worry than judgment.

"Were we so different?" Jor-El asked gently. "Look at what our 'advanced' civilization has wrought. They're young, yes, but they have such potential for growth, for good."

Another violent tremor shook the building, and warning signals began blaring throughout the complex. On Lara's monitor, the core readings had gone critical. Through the windows, they could see massive fountains of energy erupting from the ground, shooting into the sky like inverse lightning.

"He'll be an outcast among them," Lara said, looking down at their sleeping son. "A freak. They'll kill him."

"How?" Jor-El moved to her side. "He'll be a god to them."

Young Krypto, sensing the tension in the room, whimpered softly from his place near the launch pod. The pup's parents, Zyra and Tor, had already been lost in the chaos of the past few days. Jor-El looked at the small creature and made a quick decision.

"He'll need a companion," he said, gently lifting Krypto and placing him in a specially designed compartment next to Kal's pod. "A piece of home to guard and guide him."

Lara nodded through her tears as she lifted Kal-El one last time. The baby stirred but didn't wake as she wrapped him in the House of El cape, its fabric containing centuries of their family's history. "What if the ship doesn't make it?" she whispered. "He'll die out there, alone."

Jor-El took her free hand in his. "Lara, look at me." When she met his eyes, he continued, "Krypton is doomed. This is his only chance – our people's only hope. Everything we are, everything we've learned... it all lives on in him now."

The ground shook more violently, and through the windows, they could see entire sections of the city beginning to collapse. The red sun that had nourished their civilization for millions of years seemed to pulse with an angry light, as if sensing its children's end was near.

With trembling hands, Lara placed Kal-El in the pod. "Goodbye, my son," she whispered, pressing a final kiss to his forehead. "Our hopes and dreams travel with you. You will travel far, my little Kal-El, but we will never leave you... even in the face of our deaths."

Jor-El activated the launch sequence, watching as the pod was sealed and lifted into position within the rocket. He inserted his command key into a nearby console, revealing a compartment containing a glowing red crystal – the sun crystal, a power source of incredible potential that would one day help their son understand his heritage.

"It's time, Kelex."

"It has been an honor serving the House of El, sir," the robot responded. Jor-El quickly removed Kelex's memory core and liquid geo interface, placing them in a compartment within the ship along with the sun crystal.

As the launch countdown began, Jor-El turned to Lara. In her eyes, he saw the same love that had led them to defy their world's traditions and create new life naturally. Without words, they came together in a final, passionate kiss, pouring all their love and hope and fear into that last embrace.

The rocket lifted off just as the ground beneath their feet began to break apart. They watched it rise through the chaos-filled sky, their hands clasped tightly together. All around them, Krypton was literally tearing itself apart as the Celestial within began its final emergence.

Deep within the planet's core, the Celestial embryo that had been growing for millions of years finally awakened fully. Its consciousness, vast and alien, touched briefly on the dying world above it. It sensed the fear and chaos of the tiny beings that had lived their brief lives upon its incubator, but such concerns were beyond its comprehension. It had a greater purpose, a cosmic destiny to fulfill.

As Jor-El and Lara held each other, watching their son's ship disappear into the distance, the final phase of destruction began. The planet's surface cracked like an eggshell, revealing blinding white light from within. Massive tentacles of pure energy, each larger than continents, burst from the ground as the Celestial began to emerge.

Lara stood at the window, watching their son's ship disappear into the chaotic sky. Behind her, Kelor's systems flickered as the building's power began to fail. She placed her hand against the window, feeling the heat of their dying world through the supposedly indestructible material. You were right all along," she said softly to her husband, who stood beside her. "This is the end."

The Celestial's emergence accelerated, its vast form pushing through the planet's mantle with inexorable force. In its wake, Krypton began to implode, it's very atoms being torn apart by the cosmic energies being released. The red sun seemed to dim as something far brighter took its place – the awakening form of a being that had used their world as its cradle.

Jor-El and Lara shared one final look of love before the end came. "Make a better world than ours, Kal," Lara whispered. Then, in a blinding flash of light and energy, Krypton ceased to exist. The planet's death threw out a shockwave that rippled across space, carrying with it the scattered remains of a once-great civilization.

Where Krypton had been, a newborn Celestial now floated in space, its form still adjusting to its full existence. Its body, composed of pure energy and cosmic matter, dwarfed the remains of the planet that had nurtured it. As it gained full awareness, another presence made itself known.

Arishem the Judge materialized near the newborn Celestial, his towering form casting shadows across the debris field that had once been Krypton. The newborn Celestial communed with him in a language beyond human comprehension, sharing the knowledge it had gained during its long gestation.

"The Eternals of Krypton failed in their purpose," the newborn conveyed. "They allowed their charges to become stagnant, to turn inward rather than reach for the stars. The seed of expansion was lost."

"A waste," Arishem agreed, his cosmic voice echoing through the void. "This sector's development has been delayed by their failure." His enormous head turned slightly, detecting something of interest. "And yet..."

Both Celestials became aware of a small ship, already far distant, carrying within it the last hope of Krypton. They sensed the Codex merged with the child's cells, the genetic legacy of an entire species preserved in a form they had never anticipated.

"Unexpected variables create new possibilities," the newborn observed. "This outcome was not pre-determined."

Arishem considered this. "Perhaps not all is lost. We shall observe."

As the Celestials communed, the Watcher appeared, his cosmic form shimmering against the backdrop of destruction. He spoke to unseen audiences across the multiverse:

"And so fell Krypton," he intoned, "its great civilization ended not by the petty conflicts of its people, but by cosmic forces they barely understood. Through the sacrifice of Jor-El and Lara, through their defiance of tradition and their embrace of hope, they have not only preserved their civilization but have set in motion events that will reshape the very fabric of reality. Watch now, as this child of two worlds embarks on a journey that will echo through eternity..."

---

The halls of Smallville Medical Center had always felt welcoming to Martha Kent. She'd been born in this very hospital thirty-two years ago, had gotten her tonsils removed here at age seven, and had visited countless times bringing pies and casseroles to sick neighbors. But today, as she and Jonathan sat in the specialist's office on the third floor, the familiar mint-green walls felt cold and clinical.

Dr. Sarah Mitchell's office was decorated with the expected medical diplomas and certifications, but also with photos of smiling babies – successful cases, Martha assumed. Each one felt like a quiet accusation now. She gripped Jonathan's hand tighter as Dr. Mitchell reviewed their test results one final time.

The journey to this moment had started long before, though neither Martha nor Jonathan could have known it at the time. Their story was woven into the very fabric of Smallville itself, a tapestry that began weaving in 1854 when Silas Kent arrived from Boston with his two eldest sons, Nate and Jeb. A passionate abolitionist and owner of a printing press, Silas had joined the Emigrant Aid Society, determined to help make Kansas a free state.

The Kent family's roots in Smallville ran as deep as the rich Kansas soil they'd farmed for over 170 years. Silas had chosen this particular plot of land for its fertile ground and proximity to water, establishing not just a farm but a legacy of standing up for what was right, no matter the cost. When border ruffians threatened to burn his printing press, Silas had stood his ground, defending both his property and his principles.

That same determination had passed down through the generations. Ezra Kent, Jonathan's great-grandfather, had kept the farm running through the devastating droughts of the 1890s, introducing innovative irrigation techniques that other farmers soon adopted. His son, Henry Kent, had modernized the farm during the early 1900s, making it one of the first in the county to use mechanized equipment.

Then came Samuel "Sam" Kent, Jonathan's father, who had guided the farm through the challenges of the post-war years with the same quiet strength that characterized all the Kent men. Sam was known throughout the county not just as one of the most honest and hardworking farmers in Kansas, but as someone who would always lend a helping hand to neighbors in need. During the drought of '73, he'd helped several smaller farms stay afloat, never asking for anything in return.

It was under this legacy that Jonathan Kent had grown up, learning not just how to work the land, but the values that would shape his character – integrity, compassion, and an unwavering sense of right and wrong. The old farmhouse where he'd been raised still bore the marks of generations of Kents, from the growth chart notches in the kitchen doorframe to the initials carved in the barn's support beams.

Martha Clark had grown up on the other side of Smallville, daughter of William Clark, who owned the town's most successful law firm. Despite her father's hopes that she would follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer, Martha had always been drawn to simpler things – the rhythm of small-town life, the satisfaction of working with her hands, the joy of helping others.

Their paths had first crossed in earnest during their sophomore year at Smallville High School. Jonathan was the star quarterback, leading the Smallville Crows to their first state championship in fifteen years. Martha was the kind-hearted girl who tutored struggling students in math and English, and who always had time to help with whatever charitable project the school was running.

The story of how they fell in love was still told around town. During the homecoming game of their junior year, Jonathan had thrown the winning touchdown pass in the final seconds. But instead of celebrating with his teammates, he'd jogged straight to the stands where Martha was watching. Right there, still in his muddy uniform, he'd asked her to dance with him at the homecoming celebration. She'd said yes, and they'd been inseparable ever since.

Their wedding, five years later, had been held on the Kent Family Farm. The entire town had turned out for the celebration, setting up tables and chairs in the vast field behind the farmhouse. Martha's father, who had initially been skeptical of his daughter marrying a farmer, had given a touching speech about how Jonathan's character and work ethic had won him over. Sam Kent had proudly watched his son take his vows under the same oak tree where he'd married Jonathan's mother.

The first few years of marriage had been blissfully happy. They worked the farm together, modernizing some of the equipment with Martha's inheritance after her father passed, but maintaining the traditional methods that had served the Kent family well for generations. They were active in the community, helping neighbors through tough times, contributing to local charities, and generally living the kind of life that made others smile and say, "That's what marriage should look like."

The only shadow on their happiness had been their increasing difficulty in starting a family. Month after month, year after year, their hopes had been raised and dashed. Finally, their family doctor had referred them to Dr. Mitchell, one of the top reproductive endocrinologists in the state.

Now, sitting in her office, Martha felt her world crumbling as Dr. Mitchell delivered the news they had dreaded.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Kent," Dr. Mitchell said gently, "but the test results are conclusive. Martha's condition means that carrying a pregnancy to term would be virtually impossible. The risks would be extreme, both to her and to any potential child."

Martha felt Jonathan's hand tighten around hers. She tried to focus on his touch, the familiar calluses from years of farm work, but her vision was already blurring with tears.

"There's nothing that can be done?" Jonathan asked, his voice rough with emotion. "No treatments or...procedures?"

Dr. Mitchell shook her head sadly. "We've explored all the available options. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but I believe it's important to be honest about the medical realities." She paused, then leaned forward slightly. "However, I want you both to know that there are other paths to parenthood. Have you considered adoption?"

Martha wiped at her eyes with a tissue. "We've talked about it," she said softly.

"The waiting lists can be quite long," Jonathan added, his practical nature showing through even in this emotional moment. "We looked into it last year. Some agencies told us it could take five years or more, and even then there's no guarantee."

"And the costs..." Martha's voice trailed off. The farm was successful, but adoption expenses could run into tens of thousands of dollars.

Dr. Mitchell nodded understanding. "Yes, the process can be challenging. But I've seen many couples find their way to parenthood through adoption. I can put you in touch with some reputable agencies that work specifically with families in rural communities."

Martha tried to focus on what the doctor was saying about support groups and counseling services, about adoption resources and alternative options. But all she could think about was the nursery they'd started preparing in the upstairs bedroom of the farmhouse, the tiny clothes she'd started collecting, the dreams she'd had of reading bedtime stories and teaching a little one to bake her famous apple pies. The thought of waiting years more, of possibly never having those dreams come true, felt like a physical weight on her chest.

The drive back to the farm began in heavy silence, broken only by the gentle rumble of Jonathan's truck and Martha's occasional sniffles. She held the folder Dr. Mitchell had given them about adoption agencies in her lap, but couldn't bring herself to open it. Her fingers traced the edges of the manila paper, feeling the weight of shattered dreams in its carefully organized contents. The familiar Kansas landscape rolled past the windows – endless fields of corn and wheat, punctuated by the occasional farmhouse or grain silo. Usually, the sight filled Martha with a sense of peace and belonging. Today, it just reminded her of what she would never have, of the family that seemed to be slipping further and further from their grasp.

"Maybe we should look at it," Jonathan said softly, nodding toward the folder. "Dr. Mitchell seemed to think there were some good options in there."

Martha shook her head, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. "Not yet. I just... I need some time."

Jonathan reached over and took her hand, his callused farmer's fingers intertwining with hers. The gesture was so familiar, so comforting, that it nearly broke her composure entirely. They'd held hands like this on their first date, at their wedding, through every triumph and tragedy of their married life. Now they held on as their dreams of having a child slipped away.

"Remember what my father used to say?" Jonathan asked, his eyes still on the road ahead. "'The good Lord never closes a door without opening a window somewhere.'"

"Your father was a wise man," Martha said softly, staring at the folder in her lap. "He always knew just what to say when things seemed darkest." Her fingers traced the edges of the adoption paperwork, each page feeling heavier than the last. "But five years, Jonathan? The agency said it could be even longer. And these costs..." Her voice cracked slightly as she opened the folder, looking at the numbers they'd been quoted. "We'd have to mortgage part of the farm just to afford the basic fees."

Jonathan watched his wife's shoulders begin to shake, saw the tears she'd been holding back since the doctor's office finally start to fall. Without hesitation, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road, gravel crunching under the tires as they came to a stop. He reached for her just as she turned to him, and suddenly she was in his arms, her face buried in his flannel shirt as all the pain and disappointment came pouring out.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan," she sobbed, clinging to him as if he might disappear. "I'm so sorry I can't give you a child."

"Hey now," Jonathan said softly, his own voice thick with emotion. "Look at me, Martha." He waited until she raised her tear-stained face. "You haven't failed anyone. You are the strongest, most loving person I know. We're going to get through this together, just like we've gotten through everything else."

"But all our plans..." Martha's voice broke. "The family we wanted... the nursery we started fixing up... all those little clothes I've been collecting..."

"We are a family," Jonathan insisted. "You and me. And maybe... maybe God has a different plan for us. Maybe there's another way we can share all that love you have to give."

They sat like that for several minutes, holding each other as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. Finally, Martha sat back, wiping her eyes. "I just keep thinking about that little girl at church last Sunday. Remember how she was playing with her doll? And when she looked up at me with those big brown eyes..."

"Sarah Mitchell's youngest," Jonathan nodded. "I saw how you were with her. You're a natural mother, Martha. Whether it takes five years or ten, we'll find a way. We've got that spare room upstairs just waiting for a child to fill it with laughter."

Martha squeezed his hand. "You'd be such a wonderful father, Jonathan. The way you are with the neighbor kids, teaching them about the farm, showing them how to care for the animals..."

"Well," Jonathan smiled, starting the truck again, "maybe that's practice for when our time comes. And it will come, Martha. One way or another."

They drove on, the conversation turning to more practical matters – the farm's needs, preparations for the coming harvest, the church social next weekend. It was their way of finding normalcy again, of reminding themselves that life went on. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the fields, painting the Kansas landscape in shades of gold and amber.

They were about a quarter mile from their farm when Martha heard it – a sound like a freight train roaring overhead, but somehow different. More intense, more alien. "Jonathan, do you hear that?"

Before he could answer, she saw it – a streak of light in the darkening sky, moving far too fast and far too low to be a normal aircraft. The object burned with an intense blue-white light, its metallic surface gleaming as it cut through the atmosphere. Strange geometric patterns pulsed along its hull as it descended, leaving a trail of energy in its wake that seemed to ripple through the evening air.

"Jonathan, look!" she pointed just as the object – now clearly visible as some kind of fireball – passed overhead with a sound like thunder. It was heading straight for their property, its trajectory taking it toward the south field where they'd planted corn that spring.

Jonathan immediately put the truck in gear and pressed the accelerator to the floor. Gravel sprayed from beneath the tires as they raced toward their farm. Martha gripped the dashboard, the folder of adoption information forgotten in her lap as they sped down the country road that led to their property.

As they crested the final hill on Route 31, they could see their farmland spread out below them. Even from this distance, the impact was clear - a long trail of disturbed earth cut through their cornfield, steam rising from the freshly plowed furrow. The dying sunlight caught the rising vapor, creating an otherworldly haze over their crops. Jonathan turned sharply onto their property, the truck bouncing as it hit the gravel drive. As they got closer, Martha noticed the air smelled strange – like ozone and something else, something neither of them had ever encountered before.

Jonathan brought the truck to a stop at the edge of the field. "Stay in the truck," he said firmly, already reaching for the flashlight he kept under the seat. But Martha was already getting out, her heart pounding with an inexplicable mixture of fear and... something else. Something that felt almost like hope. Whatever had crashed on their land, they would face it together.

"Martha, please," Jonathan called after her, hurriedly grabbing his work gloves from behind the seat. "We don't know what that thing is. Could be dangerous."

"Then we'll both be careful," Martha replied, waiting for him to catch up. She couldn't explain the pull she felt, drawing her toward whatever lay in their field. "Did you see how it moved through the air? That wasn't any plane or meteor."

Jonathan caught up to her, flashlight beam cutting through the growing dusk. "No, it sure wasn't. Way it banked before it hit – almost like it was aiming for something." He paused, considering. "Like it meant to land here."

They followed the trail through the cornfield, stalks crunching beneath their boots. The impact had carved a deep furrow through their crop, corn stalks either flattened or burning with small blue flames that seemed to dance unnaturally in the evening air. Steam rose from the exposed earth, carrying an odd metallic scent neither of them had ever encountered before.

"Watch your step," Jonathan warned, helping Martha over a particularly deep section of the gouge. "Ground's still hot here." He swept the flashlight beam over the disturbed earth. "Look at these marks – they're too regular, too precise for random damage."

Martha nodded, noticing the same patterns. "Almost like... like it was trying not to cause too much destruction. Jonathan, what if–" She stopped, her voice catching as she spotted something ahead through the corn.

The setting sun cast long shadows through the remaining stalks, making it hard to see clearly, but something ahead was giving off its own light – a soft, pulsing glow that seemed to ripple through the evening air. It cast everything in an otherworldly blue tint, making the familiar cornfield feel suddenly alien.

"You seeing that light?" Jonathan whispered, his free hand finding Martha's. "Never seen anything like it."

"It's beautiful," Martha breathed, squeezing his hand. Despite the strangeness of it all, she felt no fear. If anything, the glow seemed almost... welcoming.

They pushed through the last row of corn, emerging into a small clearing created by whatever had crashed. Martha's grip on Jonathan's hand tightened. "Jonathan," she whispered, barely able to get the words out. "Oh my Lord..."

There, half-buried in the rich Kansas soil, was what could only be described as a spacecraft. Its design defied everything they knew about aircraft or vehicles – sleek and organic, yet clearly artificial. The hull was made of some kind of dark metal they'd never seen before, with geometric patterns that pulsed with internal energy. Strange symbols decorated its surface, glowing with that same electric blue light they'd seen from a distance.

"Stay back," Jonathan said instinctively, moving to shield Martha. His farmer's practicality was warring with the impossible sight before them. "Could be military. Could be–"

But before he could finish his thought, they heard it – a sound that cut through all their fear and confusion. A baby's hysterical crying echoed from inside the ship, the wails of a frightened infant accompanied by the high-pitched barking that could only be from a puppy.

Martha's hand flew to her mouth. "Jonathan, there's a baby in there!" Her voice cracked with emotion. The crying continued, desperate and frightened, each wail tearing at her heart. "That poor little thing... they must be so scared."

The ship seemed to respond to the sound of her voice. Its surface came alive with rippling patterns of light, and a section of the hull began to move, sliding open with a soft pneumatic hiss. Inside, nestled in what looked like some kind of metallic cradle, was a baby boy no more than a few days old. His tiny face was red from crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he waved his little fists in distress. Beside him, in a separate compartment, a white puppy with startlingly intelligent eyes wagged its tail and barked excitedly at the sight of them.

"Oh, sweetheart," Martha breathed, already moving forward. All fear or hesitation vanished, replaced by pure maternal instinct. "Shhh, it's alright. It's alright, little one." The baby's cries pierced the evening air, each sob more heartbreaking than the last.

"Martha, wait!" Jonathan reached for her arm, his voice tight with concern. "We don't know what... we don't know anything about this situation."

But Martha was already at the ship's side, her hands reaching for the crying child. The metal of the ship was warm beneath her fingers as she leaned in, making soft shushing sounds. "It's okay, sweet baby. Don't cry, don't cry." The moment she touched his cheek, his intense wailing began to quiet, though tears still streamed down his reddened face. When she finally lifted him into her arms, he immediately snuggled against her chest, his tiny body trembling from the force of his earlier cries.

"There now," she cooed softly, adjusting her hold to support his head. Her hand cradled the back of his skull, feeling its delicate shape. "There now, you're safe. You're safe with us." She began to sway gently, the same instinctive motion she'd used to comfort countless crying babies at church and family gatherings. "Nobody's going to hurt you, precious one. Nobody's going to hurt you."

The baby's breaths came in shuddering hiccups as he calmed, his little fingers clutching at the fabric of her dress. Martha could feel his heart racing against her chest, but it was gradually slowing as he responded to her gentle rocking and soft words.

"That's it," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "That's my brave boy. Everything's going to be alright now."

The baby hiccupped once more, then looked up at Martha with startlingly bright blue eyes. They were the color of a perfect Kansas summer sky, filled with an intelligence that seemed beyond his apparent age. For a moment, they just gazed at each other – the woman who'd been told she could never have a child, and the infant who had fallen from the stars. His face was still wet with tears, but his crying had completely stopped as he studied her face with an almost solemn curiosity.

Then, incredibly, the baby smiled – a toothless, innocent grin that seemed to light up the gathering dusk. It was the kind of smile that could make the whole world stop turning, the kind that could heal any broken heart. In that moment, Martha felt something click into place in her soul, as if every disappointment and heartbreak in her life had been leading to this precise instant.

Martha felt her heart melt completely. "Oh," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "Oh, Jonathan, look at him." Her voice caught as the baby reached up with one tiny hand, patting her cheek as if trying to comfort her in return. "Have you ever seen anything so perfect?"

Jonathan had knelt to calm the puppy, which was now enthusiastically licking his hand and whining to be let out of its compartment. The small white dog's tail wagged with such force that its whole body wiggled, clearly eager to join its young companion. "Martha, we need to think about this," he said, though his voice had softened as he watched his wife with the child. "We need to–"

He was cut off as a holographic image suddenly materialized above the ship – a man in strange, elaborate clothing. His face bore both nobility and profound sadness, and something about his eyes reminded Martha of the baby she held. The same startling blue, the same depth of expression.

The figure spoke first in an alien language, the strange syllables echoing through the cornfield like music. Then the image flickered and reset, this time speaking in English: "To whoever finds this ship, I am Jor-El of Krypton. The child you have found is my son, Kal-El, and he is all that remains of our world."

Martha instinctively held the baby – Kal-El – closer as Jor-El continued, one hand protectively cradling his head. The baby had settled completely now, his ear pressed against her heart as if its steady beating was the most soothing sound in the universe. His eyes were beginning to droop, exhausted from his ordeal.

"Krypton is no more, destroyed by forces beyond our control," Jor-El continued. "The puppy, Krypto, was his companion, bred and enhanced to be his protector. I beg you, whoever you are, to watch over them both. They are the last sons of a dead world, but they carry within them the potential for greatness."

Jor-El's image seemed to look directly at them as he continued, his voice filled with a father's love and desperation: "Show them love, teach them wisdom, guide them toward the light. Let them know they were loved, that they were sent away not because they were unwanted, but because they were precious beyond measure."

The message continued with more details about Krypton and the child's unique heritage, but Martha was barely listening. She was lost in Kal-El's eyes as they fought to stay open, seeing in them all the love she had to give. The baby had grabbed hold of her finger and was holding it with surprising strength, as if afraid she might disappear. His other hand still clutched at her dress, and Martha knew in that moment that nothing in heaven or earth could make her let go of this child.

"Jonathan," she said softly, "we can't call anyone about this. This baby needs us."

"Martha..." Jonathan stood up, still holding the squirming puppy. He ran his free hand through his hair, his practical nature visibly warring with his heart. "What are we going to tell people - that we found him in a cornfield? The authorities will want to know where he came from."

"We didn't find him," Martha said with quiet certainty. "He found us." She touched the baby's cheek gently. "Look at him, Jonathan. Just look at him."

Jonathan moved closer, and the baby immediately reached out toward him with a tiny hand. Almost without thinking, Jonathan offered his finger, and the boy grabbed it, giving him another bright smile that seemed to chase away the growing shadows.

"Lord help me," Jonathan murmured, his expression softening. "But Martha, we can't just..."

"Can't we?" Martha's voice was stronger now. "Jonathan Kent, you tell me right now that this isn't a miracle. Tell me this isn't that window your father always talked about."

"Even if it is," Jonathan said, though she could hear his resolve weakening, "he needs a proper name. We can't call him Kal-El – people would ask questions."

Martha looked down at the baby thoughtfully. "Clark," she said after a moment. "Clark Joseph Kent."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Your maiden name?"

"Why not?" Martha smiled. "He needs something from both of us. Clark for me..." She paused, then added softly, "And Joseph... remember that story you told me about your great-uncle Joseph? The one who took in those orphaned children during the Dust Bowl?"

Jonathan's expression softened at the memory. "Uncle Joe... he and Aunt Mary didn't have any children of their own, but they opened their home to three kids who'd lost everything. Raised them as their own. Dad always said that was the truest example of Kent family values he'd ever seen."

"That's the kind of love this little one needs," Martha said, touching the baby's nose gently. "What do you think of that, sweetheart? Are you our Clark Joseph Kent?"

As if in response, the baby yawned widely, his tiny face scrunching up in a way that made both adults' hearts melt. His eyes began to droop as he snuggled deeper into Martha's arms, clearly feeling safe and secure for the first time since his landing.

"Martha," Jonathan said softly, watching as the child drifted off to sleep, "if we do this, there's no going back. We'd have to come up with a story, figure out how to explain where he came from."

"We could say we adopted him privately," Martha suggested, gently swaying with the sleeping baby. "Through one of those agencies in Metropolis. We've been looking into adoption – everyone knows that. And with all the paperwork backlogs they have there..."

Jonathan watched his wife with the child, seeing the joy that had returned to her face after so many months of sadness. The puppy in his arms had calmed down too, watching the baby with what seemed like protective interest.

"He'd be different," Jonathan said quietly. "You heard the message – he's not from here. We don't know what that means, what challenges he might face..."

"Then we'll face them together," Martha said firmly. "Just like we've faced everything else." She looked up at her husband, her eyes shining with love and determination. "Jonathan, I know this is crazy. I know it doesn't make any sense. But when I hold him... it feels right. Like this was meant to be."

Jonathan stepped closer, wrapping one arm around his wife while still holding the puppy with the other. Together, they looked down at the sleeping child who had literally fallen into their lives. In the fading light, with the strange ship glowing softly behind them, they felt the weight of the decision before them – and the rightness of it.

"Clark Joseph Kent," Jonathan said softly, testing the name. He touched the baby's hand gently. "Son of Jonathan and Martha Kent." He looked at his wife, seeing all the love and hope he felt reflected in her eyes. "Well, I suppose every child is a gift from heaven. Ours just took a more direct route."

Martha laughed softly, careful not to wake the baby. "Does that mean...?"

"It means we've got work to do," Jonathan said, his practical side asserting itself again. "We need to hide this ship somewhere safe. And we'll need to come up with a good story – something that'll hold up under small-town scrutiny."

"The storm cellar," Martha suggested. "We can store the ship there until we figure out something more permanent." She looked down at Clark, who was sleeping peacefully in her arms. "And we'll need to get some supplies – diapers, formula..."

"I'll drive into Granville tomorrow," Jonathan said. "Less chance of running into nosy neighbors there." He scratched the puppy's ears thoughtfully. "Guess we'll need some dog food too. Can't separate them after they came all this way together."

The puppy wagged his tail at that, and Martha smiled. "Krypto," she said, remembering the message. "His name is Krypto." She looked around at the disturbed cornfield. "We should hurry, before someone comes to investigate."

Jonathan nodded, already planning what they'd need to do. "I'll get the tractor, try to smooth out some of this damage. Make it look like we were just plowing late." He looked at his wife and their newfound son. "You take him inside, get him settled. And Martha?"

"Yes?"

"I love you." He smiled, touching the baby's head gently. "Both of you."

As they made their way back through the cornfield – Martha carrying their sleeping son, Jonathan with Krypto in his arms – neither of them noticed the tall figure watching from above.

"This," he intoned, his voice carrying across the multiverse, "this moment will change everything. This random act of kindness and compassion a husband and wife gave to an orphaned boy... would change their lives forever. As well as the course of history as we know it. So much change from one little moment."

---

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

As we begin 2025, I'm thrilled to share a project that represents both a personal dream and a heartfelt homage to those who inspired it. First and foremost, I want to give special recognition to choejhulkp9, whose incredible story "What if Superman arrived in the MCU and everything changed?" served as the primary inspiration for this work. Their innovative approach to merging these universes, particularly their brilliant use of the Watcher and the Celestials in Superman's origin, laid the groundwork for what you're about to read. Without their creative vision, this story might never have taken shape, and I encourage everyone to check out their original work.

The idea of merging the Marvel and DC universes has been a dream of mine for a long time, and seeing how choejhulkp9 handled it gave me the courage to try my own take on this concept. While my story will forge its own path, I want to acknowledge how much their work influenced my approach to bringing these worlds together.

I also want to express my deepest gratitude to my co-editor, .4545, whose invaluable input and dedication helped shape this chapter into what it is. Their attention to detail and understanding of both universes has been crucial in maintaining the balance and authenticity we're striving for.

"Superman: Man of Steel" marks the beginning of what I'm calling the MDCCU (Marvel & DC Cinematic Universe). While the story draws visual inspiration from Zack Snyder's "Man of Steel," its heart beats with the combined rhythm of both universes. The Superman you'll meet here is an amalgamation of different interpretations we've seen over the years, placed in a world where heroes like Captain America, Iron Man, and Batman already exist.

I believe that Superman represents something we all need - hope, kindness, and the belief that one person can make a difference. By placing him in this merged universe, we have the opportunity to explore not just how he would interact with Marvel's heroes, but how these two amazing universes could enrich each other.

I would love to hear your thoughts, feedback, and hopes for this story. Your engagement and passion help make these stories come alive, and I'm excited to embark on this journey with all of you.

Thanks again to choejhulkp9 for the inspiration, to .4545 for the editorial support, and to all of you for giving this story a chance.

With hope and excitement for what's to come,

Mtle232.