Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

The figure hovered silently in the sky for a long time.

Below, the sea of flames that once consumed the mountains had been extinguished by him. The scattered embers that remained flickered like stars fading into the night.

Still, Malrick followed fire prevention protocols with precision, methodically putting out every last spark.

He then turned his gaze to the smoldering remains of the Ten Rings base—now reduced to rubble—and scanned the area calmly.

But to the middle-aged reporter watching from a distance, Malrick's meticulous actions carried the weight of justice—like a god among men ensuring no evil slipped through his fingers.

"The damn Ten Rings did every evil thing imaginable… But now it's over. Superman is here. We have hope! With Superman, maybe there can be peace," the man muttered, his voice trembling.

A surge of raw emotion overtook him. His body shivered, eyes brimming with vengeance and relief—no, with something more. With hope.

"He must be here to help us… to save us," the man whispered. "He's not just a messenger from God—he is God in the flesh!"

Tears welled up as he collapsed to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's finally over! Everything is going to be alright!"

"Superman is here… Oh, Superman! I have to tell him—there are still more Ten Rings bases hidden across this land!"

Desperate to speak, he clung to a tree trunk, pulling himself upright to call out.

But before he could, a figure clad in ocean-blue hovered just ahead—his cape, red as fresh blood, fluttered in the breeze.

"Superman!" the reporter gasped. Malrick now stood directly in front of him without a sound.

"Thanks for the compliment," Malrick said with a warm smile, "but I'm not a god. I'm just someone who won't ignore injustice."

"What's your name?" he asked. "Risking your life to film near a terrorist stronghold takes real courage. That's heroic."

"No, no—I'm just a normal guy! You're the hero!" The reporter blushed with excitement. "My name's Hafizullah Abdullah. Thank you for saving me! I—I—"

Now face to face, Abdullah finally saw the man clearly.

Dark eyes, like midnight skies. Features sharp and flawless, as though carved from stone. A face so perfect it defied explanation.

How could a man like this not be a divine savior?

Abdullah was sure—if he'd been a woman, he'd have dreamed about this man for the rest of his life.

Actually, even as a man, he still might.

"Relax, Abdullah," Malrick said, sensing the strange intensity of the man's gaze. "I need your help with something."

"You took footage of the Ten Rings camp just now, didn't you?"

"Yes—yes, I did!" Abdullah fumbled, holding out his camera with both hands. "Please forgive me for filming without permission. You can take the memory card—"

"That's not what I meant." Malrick gently pushed the camera back. "I want you to release those videos publicly."

"In your name."

"Tell them you captured the footage at great personal risk, and deliver this message to the world's media: all foreign military forces occupying this land must leave—immediately. Their invasion must end."

Abdullah's eyes widened. "You're… declaring war on the United States?"

"It's not a declaration of war," Malrick said, turning to leave. "It's a post-war declaration."

With a final nod, he lifted off the ground and vanished into the clouds.

"Farewell. I'll remember you—a brave soul."

Abdullah stared skyward, hands clasped in prayer. "Superman above… he's the Holy Spirit, the savior… he has… Wait—did I just forget what he looked like?"

---

Elsewhere.

"Jarvis, send all the battle footage to Tony," Malrick said calmly.

He had no idea what impression he'd left on Abdullah. His focus now was only on Tony Stark.

"And if Tony's not awake yet," Malrick added, "give him a wake-up call."

"Of course, Master Malrick. Uploading the data to Stark Industries now," Jarvis replied.

"I think Tony will appreciate the gift," Malrick murmured, already thinking of his next target.

"Before we proceed, check the local time for me."

"It's 9:47 PM," Jarvis responded.

"Good. Let's clean out the rest of the Ten Rings bases by 11. Then we move on to the Eagle Base."

"Master Malrick, are you planning to attack a U.S. military base? Should I notify Mr. Stark?"

"No need. As a taxpayer, I consider it my duty to make sure my money isn't funding atrocities."

"And besides—if I start building a reputation now, it'll feel more natural when I take down Hydra later."

"Very strategic of you," Jarvis replied.

---

Across the ocean.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

"Director, you need to see this." The half-bald agent placed a tablet in front of his superior, his usual calm demeanor replaced by urgency.

Sitting behind the desk was a bald, one-eyed Black man—Director Nick Fury. He'd been staring out the window, only his back visible until now.

He turned slowly, his face unreadable.

"What is it, Coulson?" he asked.

"The largest Ten Rings base in Afghanistan has been obliterated, sir."

"By who?"

Fury glanced down at the tablet—and froze.

"What the hell...?"

He shot to his feet as the footage played: a man in blue disintegrating grenades mid-air with blazing heat vision.

"What the hell is this?"

"There's more," Coulson said grimly, scrubbing forward.

In the next clip, Malrick stood tall amidst the blast of a Jericho missile—completely unharmed.

Fury's mind raced. A man this powerful? How did they not know he existed?

"Who is this guy? Do we have any intel?"

Fury's hand instinctively moved toward the pager he kept hidden—his emergency lifeline to Captain Marvel.

She could cross galaxies and crush armies. She was his ace.

And yet… this stranger made him consider pressing that button.

Coulson looked him in the eye, his voice solemn:

"Director… we're calling him Superman."

---