Deep in open space, a Kree strike group advanced in disciplined formation.
More than a dozen warships curved inward, engines burning in synchronized arcs until they resembled a closing jaw.
General Kasper of the Kree Empire watched the tactical display with open satisfaction.
"Seal the crescent," he ordered. "Drive them inward."
The target—a lone Kryptonian reconnaissance vessel—appeared small against the vastness of the sector. Insignificant.
Kasper almost laughed.
The Kryptonian Empire had once rivaled the greatest powers in the galaxy. Their fleets had expanded without restraint, their soldiers feared across contested systems.
Now?
Dust.
"Imagine," Kasper said, flexing his fingers, "finding surviving Kryptonians after all these years. Extinct species command a premium."
A lieutenant grinned. "Alive or dead, sir?"
"Alive brings more value," Kasper replied. "But if they resist, vaporize them. I'll accept fragments."
Engines flared brighter. The Kree ships broke stealth and accelerated, abandoning concealment in favor of overwhelming force.
Then one of the sensor officers stiffened.
"General… anomaly detected. Single lifeform signature approaching from ahead."
Kasper didn't look up. "A shuttle?"
"No, sir. No vessel signature."
The bridge quieted.
"Impossible," someone muttered.
Aboard the Aquarius, the crew watched through reinforced viewports.
Rhael had already exited the airlock.
Todd stood rigid, fists clenched. "He went alone."
Lilith's voice remained controlled, though her eyes tracked external telemetry closely. "The captain's orders are clear. We hold position."
Beyond the hull, distant flashes erupted in the dark.
Orange-red fireballs bloomed one after another.
"That's… not our ship," Todd breathed.
A thin streak of icy blue cut across the void.
In the open vacuum, Rhael hovered.
The Kryptonian combat suit provided basic maneuverability and atmospheric shielding, but the velocity he maintained far exceeded its standard propulsion output.
He felt it now—effortless.
Movement responding directly to intent rather than suit-assisted thrust.
Status UpdateAerial Propulsion Function ActiveAutonomous Flight — Tier 7
So it had manifested quietly.
Kryptonian physiology under sufficient solar absorption eventually developed self-sustained flight through bio-gravitic manipulation. The suit was now redundant.
He adjusted trajectory mid-vector without mechanical input.
Ahead, a Kree vessel separated from formation, rushing forward to intercept.
Rhael's eyes glowed faintly.
Cryogenic emission stabilized.
He didn't waste time with warning shots.
A narrow beam of concentrated blue-white light erupted from his gaze.
The freezing ray struck the Kree ship dead center.
There was no explosion at first.
Just penetration.
The beam bored cleanly through hull plating, through internal decks, through the engine core. Molecular bonds collapsed in cascading frost. Energy conduits crystallized and shattered.
Then the reactor destabilized.
The ship detonated in a burst of orange flame against the black.
Another Kree cruiser attempted evasive thrust.
Rhael adjusted angle.
A second beam lanced outward, slicing diagonally across the vessel's forward quarter. The hull separated as if cut by an invisible blade. Structural collapse followed in seconds.
Two ships.
Gone.
The crescent formation faltered.
On Kasper's flagship, alarm indicators flared.
"What weapon is that?" he demanded.
No one answered.
The third Kree warship attempted to bank away, engines flaring at maximum output.
Rhael accelerated.
This time he didn't fire immediately.
He moved.
The distance between them collapsed in a heartbeat.
To the Kree bridge crew, it looked like a meteor streaking through the wreckage of their own fleet—blue eyes burning against vacuum.
"Target is—"
The sentence ended in static.
Rhael's fist struck the hull at relativistic velocity.
Enhanced Strength — Tier 14Solar Energy Conversion — Active
The impact folded reinforced armor inward. Shockwaves rippled through the vessel's spine. The ship ruptured under internal pressure imbalance, breaking apart in a chain reaction of secondary explosions.
Three ships reduced to debris in less than thirty seconds.
Silence fell across the remaining Kree fleet.
Kasper stared at the external feed.
"That's no projectile," he whispered.
The sensor officer swallowed. "It's a single humanoid lifeform."
"Impossible."
Rhael slowed to a hover, debris drifting around him.
His suit remained intact, though he now understood it wasn't the source of his speed.
He adjusted posture, scanning the remaining vessels.
Twelve had become nine.
He considered their formation.
Predatory crescent.
Now fractured.
On the Kree flagship, panic edged into command structure.
"Retreat vector?" a lieutenant asked.
Kasper's jaw tightened.
A single Kryptonian.
One.
And his fleet armor—rated against Nova Corps artillery—had been pierced like paper.
He opened his mouth to issue new orders—
And froze.
The figure outside was accelerating again.
Not drifting.
Not maneuvering by thruster burst.
Flying.
Straight toward them.