The instantaneous materialization of physical bodies was followed by a sudden pop in the air as air particles were displaced by matter suddenly forcing them out of their previous location and as Sparga and Chronoa appeared within the confines of the Time Nest, the two took a step apart from one another, but they hesitated for just a moment before withdrawing from that shared space. The soft trickle of water flowing was the only sound between the two for a moment before Sparga finally spoke up. Turning his gaze back to Chronoa, he smiled and began to lift his index and middle finger back toward his brow.

Sparga: "Well… See ya."
Chronoa: "Wait! You promised! You're not off the hook yet, mister! You promised you'd talk to him!"
Chronoa protested before the Superman could project himself anywhere else and when she did, his hand lowered back down and he grimaced. His tail instantly lowered itself and almost tucked itself between his legs as he sighed with a slump of his shoulders. His hair rustled as he turned to face her with a pleading expression.

Sparga: "I did! But you want me to just walk up to him without a heads-up? Can't you at least talk to him first and let him know I wanna talk? I can't just walk up and–"

The sound of approaching footsteps caught their attention, stopping Sparga abruptly mid-speech. Both the Saiyan of Steel and the Supreme Kai of Time turned to watch Trunks approach them, his long black coat unbuttoned and left to flow unrestrained. On his face was an expression that was mixed between curiosity and anger and Sparga braced himself when he saw that Trunks was about to say something.

Trunks: "Can't just walk up and what? No, go on. Finish. I'm curious about what you have to say."
Chronoa stepped between the two of them to use her own body as a barricade between the two men. She held her hands up softly to try and defuse the spark that was already lit and she pleaded with Trunks.

Chronoa: "Trunks. Sparga just wants to talk. Can't you at least hear him out?"
Trunks: "Sure. I'll hear him out, and then he can leave. The Time Nest is Time Patrol territory only, remember? And he's not a Time Patroller anymore."

Sparga: "Trunks, c'mon. This used to be my home before too."

Trunks: "It was your home. And then you chose to abandon it and us for a crusade that's doing nothing but tearing you apart inside for people who hate you. Do you really expect me to sit here and listen and be okay with whatever justification you have for that? Cuz if you do, then that "S" must stand for stupid."

Chronoa: "Trunks!"

Sparga sighed deeply and his shoulders sank even lower while he turned toward the portal that lead out to Conton City, not willing to engage in a fight where nothing he says or does might affect the outcome. He had other things he needed to focus on, and he didn't want to listen to this. Chronoa reached to grab his hand and stop him from leaving, but the moment her hand grabbed hold of his, Trunks protested.

Trunks: "No, let him leave. He wants to fight for a world that hates him so badly, then that's his choice. But there are people who actually care about you, Sparga! And maybe if we actually meant anything to you, then you'd be here with us."

Sparga stopped mid-step and clenched his fist before pivoting at the heel to march back and Chronoa braced herself as she held up both hands to try and keep them apart but Sparga stepped in too close too quickly and it was all she could do to be sandwiched between them to provide some meager barrier between the two hot-tempered men.

Sparga: "You've got a lot of nerve saying that to me when you had to go back in time - twice - to save a world you couldn't let go of, that you were never even a part of!"

Trunks: "That was different! I was fighting to save everyone, not chase after some symbol of an ideal that doesn't even exist anymore."

Sparga's brow knit tight together as he scowled and clenched a fist, an obvious and visible expression that made Trunks clench up and reach his hand up slightly. He knew that it was a low blow for Sparga, but he wanted to say his piece and Sparga's feelings be damned. As Sparga bristled, he almost barked back.

Sparga: "Ideal? You think it's just about wearing a symbol?! Trunks, you don't get it, do you? I didn't leave because you're not important to me. I left because there's more than just one world that needs protecting."

Trunks: "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That you're protecting people? You're avoiding reality! You had friends here, a family, people who accepted you! And you gave it all up for delusions of being a hero in a world that doesn't want one."

Sparga's voice raised even higher as he towered over Trunks, almost pushing past Chronoa who was bracing with both arms to keep him from shoving his chest into Trunks as she turned to face the broad chested Saiyan of Steel entirely to try and contain him. Meanwhile, Sparga's intensity only sharpened like an edge as he countered.

Sparga: "You don't get to lecture me about family! Not when you're the one who plucked me out of my world to help save yours without asking me! I didn't ask for Shenron to bring me to this city, you did! You can't understand what it's like for me to be torn between two worlds and being asked to choose."

Trunks: "A world you were running away from because you were ashamed of your mistakes! Don't act like you were the victim when we gave you a home when you had none! You know good and damn well that you wouldn't have had to run away if you didn't–"
Trunks felt the stinging sensation of Chronoa's hand slap him across the face, silencing him immediately before he finished his train of thought and glaring daggers right through him. With a forceful shove from both arms, she pushed them a few feet apart and Trunks raised his expression up from Chronoa to Sparga to realize his expression was somewhere between a sulk and a scowl. And then Chronoa's voice boomed with urgency.

Chronoa: "That's enough, BOTH OF YOU! This isn't helping! Sparga, you came here to talk, not fight. Trunks, please, give him a chance to explain."

Sparga took a step back and squared his shoulders with a sniff, lifting his head up so he could uphold his composure before speaking.

Sparga: "Why bother? He's clearly made up his mind and doesn't want to hear me out. He just wants to feel vindicated. I'm sorry, 'Noa. But I'm leaving now. It's clear I don't belong here anymore."

When those final words left Sparga's lips, both Chronoa and Trunks recoiled - one moreso than the other. The Superman lifted his index and middle finger to his brow once again to transmit himself away but before he could begin his focus, Chronoa grabbed hold of his wrist and forearm and pulled it down to stop him, her voice rising in urgency.

Chronoa: "Sparga! Wait, please! Please don't leave. Not like this. You belong with us. You've always belonged with us. Please don't leave!"
Her words hit him heavy, the desperate plea to keep things from falling further apart filling the air. Sparga stopped, his shoulders still slumped and every so often, he squared his shoulders again to readjust his composure. He didn't look at her, but the tension in his frame told Chronoa that he was listening.

But before he could replied, Trunks sighed heavily, finally breaking the silence.

Trunks: "... I crossed a line. I took it too far. I shouldn't have rubbed salt in the wound like that."
His voice was low and collected, not apologetic in a way that would ease the sting but it at least was low enough to acknowledge the damage inflicted.

Trunks: "But I'm not going to apologize for how I feel."
Sparga lowered his arm entirely now, one brow lifting in quiet challenge. Trunks took a step forward, reinforcing his own assertion and proving he had no intention of backing down.

Trunks: "You did leave us, Sparga. And you might not want to hear it, but it's true. From the moment our world and yours became one, you chose them over us. I understand that you feel responsible for all those lives. But you do because of sins that aren't even yours to bear. And you did leave us because of that. And that's not fair to us. You. Left. Us."

Chronoa looked between them, her grip on Sparga's arm tightening as if she could anchor him there. Her voice softened as she tried to bridge the gap and help them both see one another's sides.

Chronoa: "Trunks, you might be right… But that doesn't mean you can say things you know will hurt him. Pushing him away won't bring him back to us."
Sparga: "You guys keep talking like I'm not here, trying! Like I'm not trying to do my best for you both. But Trunks… You of all people should understand how I feel. You keep telling me that this world doesn't want a hero. But the moment I walk through that portal?"

Sparga pivoted to turn and shift so he could point to the portal behind him that lead out to Conton City, emphasizing his direction.

Sparga: "I'll hear everything. An entire world crying out for a savior as everything comes falling down around them in flames. Millions of voices all at once in my ears. Each and every one of them begging for someone to stop the violence. To save them in their darkest hour. That doesn't sound familiar to you?"

Trunks didn't say anything to that, unable to find a protest in the face of such a damning argument. The swordsman was finding himself at a loss to debate when Sparga's words echoed his own from a lifetime ago and though he still felt his reasons were valid, the Saiyan Kryptonian Hybrid made for a compelling argument. He lowered his head, refusing to meet Sparga's gaze burning a hole through him. Whether it was from shame that came from understanding Sparga's perspective and still damning him for it, or from pride in refusing to budge when Sparga's words weren't too different from his own motives in his youth, Trunks wasn't sure. But he wasn't going to give ground on this. Chronoa could see the conflict in Trunks' expression and stepped forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and she looked to Sparga to see if he'd approach as well.

But Sparga simply stood where he did and refused to close that distance, firm in his beliefs.

Sparga: "An entire world that hates heroes but desperately cries out for one. And if I don't do it, who will? You keep saying I chose them over you, but to me, there isn't a choice between doing what's right and doing nothing. Just like you did. So don't condemn me for making a choice that isn't too different from yours."

Trunks paused, rolling the words around in his head before replying so he could find the right words as his eyes narrowed in understanding. There was a flicker of recognition behind his eyes and Sparga could see it, but neither of them were budging on their respective stances, to which Chronoa could see and only grow more and more frustrated by their pride. But there was something there that she could latch onto and try to push it in the hopes of maybe ending this silly conflict between the two men before her who saw one another as brothers. She just needed to nudge it along.

Chronoa: "You both want the same thing, to help. Why does that have to be a point of contention between you two? Why do you both have to see this as being on opposite sides?"
Trunks' steely gaze softened and Sparga could see the hardened expression give way, but he cast a glance over his shoulder back to the portal behind him where he knew that Conton City was in wait just across the threshold. He paused for a moment, considering everything before a momentary thought crossed his mind and he smiled gently to himself before turning to offer that same expression to both Trunks and Chronoa.

Sparga: "Trunks, 'Noa. Maybe I don't belong here anymore, but I don't think of what I did as a mistake. And I need the both of you to know that I didn't choose to walk this path because you mean nothing to me. You both - and the Time Patrol - gave me a home. A family. I won't ever forget that. But I have another family too that I failed, and I need to restore that family's honor. My family's honor. Until I stop hearing those voices, this world needs a Superman."
And then Sparga pivoted at the heel, turning about face and leaving the two of them to digest his words with naught to fill the silence as the distance between them but the sound of his retreating footsteps. And that was twice now that Trunks and Chronoa had to watch as their Hero of Time, the strongest Time Patroller and the Saiyan of Steel walked away to find his destiny on a path that diverged from theirs. As he stepped into and through the portal, Sparga's body washed over with the light of the threshold and he crossed the passageway to emerge onto the other side and in Conton City.

Once having emerged into Conton City, the Saiyan Kryptonian Hybrid felt himself bask in the warm rays of sunlight that washed over him and he closed his eyes with a soft inhalation. Instantly, his senses were abuzz with activity as he left the refuge of the Time Nest's sanctuary and returned to the rest of the world where the whole of Earth was full of life and noise and frenetic chaos of all the joys of living. With each calming deep breath, Sparga's chest expanded as he took it all in, his super hearing instantly bombarded with a cacophony of noise from thousands of miles over to blend together in a symphony of thousands of voices all clamoring together. It was so much that there were always moments where it might threaten to overwhelm someone with lesser willpower and determination - So vast were all the countless voices and noises all melding together into a jumble of sonic frequencies that assailed his hearing so violently that without focus, his mind could snap under the strain from trying to make sense of it all hitting him all at once. Slowly, Sparga lifted off the ground to hover over the walkway, and then he rose higher and higher to rise above the city skyline.

He had spent a lifetime now training to master these senses so they wouldn't overwhelm him, but with so much chaos all at once, it took even his skill a moment to find anything that might require his attention. The sound of a group of children's laughter down below in Conton City's thoroughfare clashed in discordance against the howl of a dog's bark over in Hercule City, which was then drowned out by the sound of a car engine stalling and then backfiring somewhere on the outskirts of North City. An entire planet's worth of sound and noise was rushing through Sparga's perception and he just took a moment to take it all in. So many voices all at once registering into his awareness, most of them just people going about their lives with casual assurance that the world would just keep on turning. An entire world that rested in the comfortable guarantee that it would just always be. And they deserved that peace, so Sparga would always fight for it. To most, this kind of perception of the world was a burden, a heavy responsibility and a mind-breaking flood to the senses. But Sparga understood. He understood what it meant to have such power, and the responsibilities that came with it. He focused his senses, searching for anything that might be noteworthy. The thousands of blurring sounds made the distinction difficult, but not for a Superman. Not for Sparga. Every voice he heard depended on him and what he represented. And they might resent him, but what mattered is that he was there for them when he was needed.

The riptide of sound washed over Sparga, the jarring melody of so many distinct sounds from thousands of miles all across in every direction blending together in a bombarding haze of indiscernible static. The heavy waves of noise kept hitting Sparga's eardrums and he held fast against the storm assailing his senses, searching. And then he heard it. It was far away. Could he fly fast enough to make it in time? Or would it be better to use his Instant Transmission? Could he pinpoint the faint energy in his senses fast enough? Or would it just be better to start moving? No time to question it, the Superman took flight with a thrust forward of his weight and the shockwave of stale air that erupted in a cone behind him rippled forth as he broke the sound barrier to make his way over to Jump City at breakneck speeds.

He could make it in time. He didn't have a choice otherwise.

Flying through the horizon faster than fast can be understood, the world beneath Sparga blurred into a wave of motion as he entered Jump City's radius and breached into its streets to locate the source of distress.

"Help! Mommy!"

Sparga could hear the little girl's cries for aid in his ears and he moved, pushing the limit of what speed could be defined as in order to reach her in time. When he came into view to catch sight of the young girl, she was holding on to a loose piece of rebar while hanging for dear life over the edge of a bridge. Nearby, what he could only assume was the girl's mother was struggling to reach over the railing to try and grab her daughter as the rebar began breaking free from the concrete and the girl shrieked in fright. But then a blurring red streak flashed into view and snatched the girl up before Sparga descended in front of the mother with the young girl in his arms, wearing an expression of confusion.

Sparga: "Easy, miss. You're safe now. Stick to your mother, okay?"
He gingerly lowered her into the woman's arms who took the young girl gratefully, even as the little girl struggled to comprehend how quickly she had just been saved.
"Wha…?"
"Thank you! Thank you for saving my baby! Thank you!"
The mother began weeping as she cradled her daughter and Sparga smiled softly, appreciating that the reaction wasn't what it normally was for a change. Best to leave now before the norm kicked back in. With the young girl safe back in her mother's arms, Sparga began gliding back up while taking in the view before turning about and flying off to find someone else in need of a Superman.

It was nice to hear gratitude for a change, contrasting to the normal reticence and vitriol he encountered when he saved people. But even if everyone he saved still hated him, Sparga would be there to catch them when they fell. After all, that's what being Superman meant. Whether or not they were grateful to him, they were alive. And that's what mattered.

Several days had passed while Zod healed his injuries and licked the wounds to his pride. When he had awoken from his battle with Sparga and his body burned with the wounds from whatever blast of light that the young hybrid had washed him over with, the smoking crater he was buried in cradled him and Zod had dragged himself up to begin making his departure from the planet. But when he had lifted himself up, he felt a small sphere roll against his boot. At the sight of this strange little orb, curiosity gnawed at him - And for once, Zod indulged in it and he took hold of the small orange crystalline orb to inspect it. The mysterious little object had in it two red stars and Zod decided if for no other reason than innocent curiosity to take it with him while he returned to his ship.

There, his scientists ran tests on it to determine any properties it might have while Zod recovered from his wounds and regained his strength. His battle with the young hybrid proved one thing; the boy had grown into a formidable warrior and he'd need to begin training like he was a much younger man again if he wanted to subdue him and talk to him in order for Sparga to listen to reason. That would take time, and in that time spent, he had what little his ramshackle battalion of gathered forces could do to investigate.

In the days spent recuperating, Zod was approached by a conscripted soldier of his army - A Rhyloxian of passing intelligence but lacking the power and respect worthy of a true Kryptonian soldier. The only other Kryptonian in his forces was out scouting in search of other survivors. If Sparga's biological father and his squadron was still out there somewhere, then they could begin building a new Krypton. But the more immediate concern of his soldier approaching him with what he hoped was good news held Zod's attention for the moment.

"General Zod… I think I know what that orb you brought is."
Zod: "Do you now? Well, out with it, man. I'd rather not be kept in suspense."
"Well, sir… Our tests ran inconclusive, if I'm to be honest. So I'm not one hundred percent certain…"
Zod stood upright from his seat with his eyes burning red with a scarlet ember glow of heat vision charging, ready to punish the buffoon for wasting his time. But the soldier held his hands up and stammered in pleading protest, begging to continue to stave off the incoming punishment.
"B-B-But! I heard a rumor a while back that reminds me of this. I recall a story about a place called Namek having wish-granting orbs that can fulfill any desire! If this is the same, then Earth has its own set of wish orbs that can grant you whatever you want!"
Zod paused, letting his heat vision fade. What nonsense. Any wish granted in exchange for just gathering these little spheres? It sounds like childish whimsy. It sounded utterly ridiculous - Such flights of fancy belonged to lesser beings, not the ambition of a Kryptonian General. But… part of Zod was at least morbidly curious. And for some odd reason, he couldn't shake that sliver of curiosity tugging on the back of his mind. He had a duty to restore Krypton, not pursuing flights of fancy and nonsensical wonders. But on even the slim margin that this rumor proved true then maybe…

Zod turned away from his soldier and stared out the window to stare off into empty space while taking a moment of silence to contemplate. At worst, it might be a fool's errand. But any good soldier saw an opportunity when it presented itself before him. Any good soldier was trained to take advantage of even the smallest of openings. And if these rumors proved more than baseless whispers, then the power in these orbs could serve him in restoring Krypton. So without even turning his gaze back to the Rhyloxian, Zod gave one simple order;

Zod: "Summon Lieutenant Commander Faora. Immediately."