The night sky over Smallville was vast beyond imagination, stretching endlessly overhead. It was shockingly clear, as if freshly washed, with stars twinkling against the dark expanse and the moon shining brightly.
Inside the wooden house, soft lights glowed, accompanied by the sound of quiet laughter and babbling.
Beneath the eaves, Krypto propped up his forelegs and sat on the wooden porch. Moonlight cast a faint glow over his snow-white fur, making him resemble both a wolf and a dog.
A cool breeze swept through the farm, rustling the crops in the darkness, a peaceful, quiet comfort beneath the night sky.
From time to time, Krypto opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to dissipate heat. Dogs lacked sweat glands, so this was a natural response.
But deep down, he reminded himself, he was not an ordinary dog.
Yet, his instincts still drove him to act like one.
Closing his mouth again, Krypto lifted his head, gazing at the moon with thoughtful eyes.
For a moment, he felt the urge to howl.
But he was a dog, not a wolf.
Suppressing the instinct, he remained silent.
Though, not entirely.
His eyes activated their telescopic and X-ray vision. Scanning past the cornfields and beyond, he focused on the distant town, where dim, scattered lights glowed softly in the night. The familiar sights blurred as he extended his gaze even further, locking onto a location sixteen kilometers outside town.
That was where he had placed the kryptonite.
He had seen Mike take the kryptonite. With his X-ray vision, he had watched as Mike retrieved it, prepared to store it, and then left Kansas—destination unknown.
Krypto hadn't followed.
He had to stay with his son.
More than anything, he feared that if he left, Bardi would appear.
Extract the genetic Codex.
After all, Bardi had arrived on Earth too soon. A few years' head start was enough for him to establish a powerful presence. On this primitive planet, he should have easily risen to dominance—becoming a ruler, a god.
Krypto's head turned, his vision sweeping the landscape in every direction. He extended his farsight to its limits, scanning everything within range.
He let out a slow breath, momentarily relieved, only for an oppressive weight to settle over him once more. A deep unease clouded his thoughts.
Bardi's absence wasn't necessarily a good thing.
The memory of Bardi lingered, unwilling to fade.
He exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
According to Kryptonian genetic sequencing, Bardi was merely a low-class warrior, genetically inferior, a defective sequence. His potential should have been limited, his destiny predetermined.
At best, he could have become a high-ranking soldier.
But Bardi had defied everything.
He was the first in Kryptonian history to break the limits of his genetic programming. He used sheer effort to overcome what was believed to be an inescapable biological destiny. On Krypton, genetics determined all, future status, abilities, and fate.
And yet, he had shattered that notion.
From a common soldier, born with defective genes, he had risen through the ranks.
Until, in an unprecedented coup, he seized the rank of General.
His rise had been blindingly fast, an unthinkable miracle.
To Krypton's lower class, he had become a beacon of hope.
A symbol of revolution.
His existence defied every established belief.
"Genes do not determine the future!"
"Talent doesn't define everything!"
Through sheer willpower, he shattered the scientific doctrines Krypton had upheld for centuries.
It was… unscientific.
Completely unscientific.
At the time, Jor-El, along with every scientist who studied Bardi's genetic sequence, had been utterly dumbfounded.
Yet, no matter how many times they tested him, the results remained unchanged, he was still a low-class warrior with defective genes.
Some theorized that his genes were not defective but something more advanced, something Kryptonians had yet to comprehend.
But even after exhaustive experimentation…
No evidence supported that theory.
The only anomaly was Bardi himself.
This realization had left Jor-El deeply unsettled.
This man had twisted his very existence through sheer force of will.
And during Bardi's coup, when Jor-El faced him in person, he had sensed something truly terrifying.
Bardi had plunged Krypton into war, igniting an uprising among the oppressed. The lower-class Kryptonians, long resigned to their fate, now followed him with fervent devotion, charging into battle, willing to die for him.
Against all odds, Bardi's rebellion had held its ground.
The Kryptonian military had cutting-edge technology.
They had superior genetics.
They had war heroes like General Zod.
And yet, against Bardi, they struggled.
He dictated the battlefield.
He turned the war against them.
He forced them into a desperate, brutal fight.
In the end, only one thing had stopped him, Jor-El's realization.
Through information obtained from H'EL, he deduced Bardi's ultimate goal: the Codex of Life.
Acting swiftly, Jor-El conspired with General Zod, setting a trap near the Codex. It was the only way to stop him.
Of course, Jor-El had already hidden the real Codex.
What Bardi found… was a fake.
Had Bardi obtained the true Codex, Krypton's entire civilization would have been thrown into upheaval.
Jor-El had felt an unprecedented chill at the thought.
The final battle was grim.
Fifty of Krypton's most elite warriors, its highest-ranking generals were sent to stop Bardi.
He killed over thirty of them single-handedly.
The battlefield had become a bloodbath.
With no alternative, Bardi had been forced into an escape pod.
H'EL had begged Jor-El to execute him.
Instead, he designed a final trap, a funeral in the cosmos, an explosion that would scatter Bardi's remains as a brilliant burst of light.
But clearly, Bardi had planned for this.
His intellect was no less than that of Krypton's most gifted scientists.
Somehow, he had delayed the detonation sequence of the ship's bomb.
When the explosion failed to occur, Jor-El was left horrified.
Even after everything, Bardi still lived.
And Jor-El could already imagine the bloodshed to come.
There would be no peace between them.
There could be no negotiation.
Either the House of El would perish…
Jor-El had made his choice.
And so, he had prepared.
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