DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

Bardi gently scraped the little girl's face with his fingers. Her skin was tender, soft, and comfortable to the touch.

The girl didn't sleep well, her calf had pushed the quilt aside, her mouth slightly open, with saliva trickling from the corner of her lips. Her body sprawled out on the bed in the shape of a large "X."

"Is her name Lois Lane?"

Bardi asked softly. His voice spread gently through the silent space, not waking the little girl.

If this was Lois Lane, then Bardi would start planning her future.

Designing her various futures would be entirely in his hands.

Lois Lane, the woman bearing this name, in most stories, is Superman's girlfriend, his wife, and even the mother of his child.

The Superman family, the House of El, was his sworn enemy. And an enemy's loved ones? He would never let them go, no matter what time or circumstances dictated.

But this "not letting go" didn't mean death. Instead, in Bardi's hands, her original future would definitely take a sharp turn.

Now that Superman hasn't landed on Earth yet, there's no way to know exactly how Jor-El has arranged things, whether Superman will still land in Kansas as originally planned, or if, due to Bardi's presence, a butterfly effect will occur, sending Superman somewhere else to hide.

If Superman cannot be located, then controlling Lois becomes crucial. Through force or other methods, their destined connection would inevitably lead them to meet.

By that time, he would ensure the El family's suffering was unending, life itself would become a punishment worse than death.

As countless feasible futures played out in his mind, Bardi made his decision in an instant: Lois Lane needed to be under his control.

Just then, a figure appeared at the door. The light from the corridor illuminated Sam's tall figure. His silhouette blocked the light, casting a shadow on the ground.

"Barmulodi!"

Sam growled, his expression grim. It was only after discovering the true identity of this alien that he fully understood the scope of what Bardi intended to do.

He hated himself for being so slow to realize who Bardi really was. And now, there was no way to balance the scales against him.

At the same time, he harbored a deep hatred for General Vic, who, driven by his own ambitions, had dragged the entire country no, all of humanity into an abyss, leaving Sam infuriated.

The tall and imposing figure in white stood beside his daughter, exuding an aura of dread.

Bardi turned around, his eyes like black holes or the depths of an abyss, locking onto Sam. The overwhelming gaze pierced Sam's entire being, making it feel as though needles were pricking every pore on his body. The hairs on his neck stood up. Those eyes seemed to hold supreme power, leaving Sam stunned and terrified.

Bardi was late—or rather, he wasn't late at all.

In truth, Deathstroke had never intended to let Bardi go in the first place. His goal was to kill him.

If Deathstroke had listened to reason, taken the film, and left, perhaps things would have been different. Even if Deathstroke had succeeded in retrieving the film for Bardi under some form of coercion, the photographs were already seen by Sam Lane, rendering the film itself meaningless.

No matter how things played out, whether Deathstroke retrieved the film or whether he tried to escape Bardi's grasp, Sam had already seen the photographs.

As a result, Bardi would become a thorn in the side of the U.S. military. They would see him as an enemy to be hunted down like a fugitive.

Deathstroke's goal was to ensure Bardi's complete downfall, whether through brute force or strategy, using the full resources of the upper echelons of the U.S. military.

Regardless of whether Deathstroke himself survived, the future leaders of the military would be dead set on targeting Bardi.

Yet in the end, after suffering a terrifying defeat, Bardi deduced Sam's actions in just a few words. This level of calculation, this kind of intellect, made one despair and shiver. It felt as though he could see through the world like a god.

Bardi had won.

If Deathstroke had not already "died once" and still harbored the desire to live, perhaps he could have brought trouble to Bardi.

But not now. Moving forward, Deathstroke would unknowingly live according to Bardi's designs.

Sam suppressed his breathing, his body stiff with tension.

Bardi's presence was overwhelmingly terrifying. It felt as though he was standing before a giant mountain that towered over him. The difference between them as beings was like that of an ordinary person facing a ferocious Tyrannosaurus rex. The primal fear left Sam short of breath, his heart pounding rapidly.

He forced himself to steady his breathing and glanced at his daughter. In a deep voice, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Pretending not to know Bardi would have been foolish.

Bardi's gaze shifted to Sam's left hand, which held a document bag. His fingers were pressed so tightly around it that the bag was wrinkled.

Sam narrowed his eyes slightly when he noticed Bardi's attention on the document bag.

"You're here for this? What's inside?"

Sam asked, his heartbeat accelerating. His face remained stern and tense, but his eyes betrayed suspicion as they flickered back to the document bag in his hand.

His performance, like an Oscar-winning actor gave the impression he had never seen what was inside.

The film and photographs didn't matter.

As long as Sam had seen them and knew their contents, the physical objects were meaningless.

If Sam could survive Bardi's wrath, then the U.S. military would inevitably move to eliminate Bardi, for Sam's position within the military was significant enough to set plans in motion.

Bardi suddenly chuckled. Earlier, while approaching, he had used his enhanced vision to see Sam viewing the photographs in the third-floor study. Now, the film and photos no longer held any value.

"It's fine. I already know everything and have arranged your future."

Bardi spoke calmly, stepping toward Sam.

Emerging from the shadows like a devil from the abyss, every step Bardi took seemed to pound against Sam's heartbeat, filling him with unease.

Sam's face twisted in fury. He hated himself for realizing the truth too late. He cursed his own stupidity and General Vic's selfish ambitions, which had brought calamity upon the entire United States.

"This document can be given to you. You can do whatever you want with it. My daughter is still very young and poses no threat. I ask you to let her go."

Sam lowered his head. As a hardened general, this was his way of bowing to Bardi in exchange for his daughter's safety.

He knew Bardi's overwhelming strength. Ordinary people had no chance to dodge or resist him. Bullets couldn't penetrate his skin. There was no way to fight back. All Sam could do was swallow his grievances and beg for his daughter's life.

"I've already arranged a future for your daughter."

Bardi replied indifferently, moving closer to Sam.

Sam's expression changed drastically. He glared at Bardi, stepping back suddenly, his hand reaching for the pistol at his waist.

Before he could pull the weapon, a massive hand shot out like a dragon, snaking through the air and clamping onto Sam's neck.

In an instant, Bardi lifted him effortlessly.

Sam Lane's body went limp as Bardi's thumb pressed down on the nerves in his neck. His head tilted, anger still etched on his face as the light of consciousness faded.

***

Bonus for 100PS