DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

Outside the warehouse door, the air was thick with tension, so silent that even the sound of a needle dropping would have been deafening.

Dozens of soldiers stood at the ready, gripping M16 automatic rifles, their formations carefully arranged. Some crouched behind cover, others wielded riot shields, forming a tight barricade in the middle of the corridor. The space outside the warehouse was far from open—glass and steel experimental rooms were crisscrossed throughout the area, providing cover but also creating tight angles. Every soldier's focus was locked on the warehouse gate, the only entrance and exit to the underground research institute.

This facility had never faced a breach before, yet the armed presence had always remained formidable.

Major Atherton wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his glove, his nerves stretched thin. The oppressive silence was suffocating, amplifying every slight movement or sound.

He had fought alongside Colonel Slade during the Vietnam War, facing death on countless occasions. But even in the jungles of Vietnam, Slade had never issued orders with such meticulous care or such palpable fear.

Slade's voice still rang in his ears, sharp and grim: "Kill him. If he's not stopped, we'll all die. The entire underground research institute will be wiped out."*

Major Atherton clenched his jaw. In moments like this, he tried not to think about General Vic's directive to keep Bardi alive. Slade clearly didn't care what the general wanted. To Slade, Bardi's existence wasn't an opportunity—it was a calamity.

The atmosphere outside the warehouse grew heavier with each passing second. Since the moment they heard the screams of Mason, the gunfire of the M9 pistol, and Jenny's faint cries of despair, nothing else had broken the silence.

Major Atherton fought to steady his breathing, ignoring the beads of sweat rolling down his face. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to maintain a calm composure, knowing that even the slightest hint of panic could be disastrous.

But in this soundless, stifling environment, even a heartbeat felt amplified.

To Bardi, each suppressed beat of a soldier's heart was like a road sign, guiding him through the dark. His super hearing allowed him to locate every soldier with pinpoint precision, their frantic heartbeats building a perfect mental map in his mind.

He could feel the flow of air moving around the room, hear the subtle shifts of currents colliding with surfaces, and even detect faint scents carried by the stale air of the underground facility.

In Bardi's mind, a complete three-dimensional map of the area took shape. Every soldier's position, every obstacle, and every weapon was laid out with perfect clarity. His superhuman senses—sight, smell, hearing—all worked in harmony, each under his precise control.

Bardi's hand pushed the warehouse door open a crack.

*Bang!*

A shot rang out, fired by a nervous soldier. The bullet struck the edge of the metal door, sparking faintly as it ricocheted off.

The single gunshot shattered the silence like glass, and the soldiers outside reacted immediately. Gunfire erupted in a deafening barrage, bullets hammering the warehouse door in rapid succession. Sparks flew wildly, flashing like bursts of electric welding as the hail of bullets continued.

Behind the door, Bardi remained still. He didn't flinch as the gunfire lit up the dim warehouse interior. His mind continued to work, calculating with cold precision. He silently counted the number of bullets being fired, the positions of the soldiers, and how many remained ready to shoot.

Though his body was powerful, far beyond human limits, he wasn't invincible. Bullets wouldn't kill him outright, but they could still pierce his skin and lodge shallowly in his muscles. There was no need to recklessly charge into a storm of gunfire—not when he could conserve his strength for the more dangerous threats waiting above ground.

Bardi's plan was clear, he would clear the fourth sublevel of all resistance, then move to the surface to face the missiles and tanks waiting for him. He wouldn't waste any unnecessary strength until it was time to break out.

"Hold fire!"

Major Atherton's voice cut through the chaos as he commanded his soldiers to cease firing, giving them a moment to swap positions and reload. The constant barrage of bullets had left the metal door riddled with dents, and the floor was littered with flattened rounds that had failed to penetrate.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Through the narrow gap in the door, the muzzle of an M16 rifle appeared.

Bardi moved. Almost the instant Major Atherton gave the command to hold fire, he thrust the barrel of his rifle through the crack. Flames erupted from the weapon as Bardi pulled the trigger, forcing the soldiers into an instinctive response.

Gunfire erupted again, but something extraordinary occurred.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

In an instant, thirteen rifles exploded in the soldiers' hands. Those who had hesitated earlier screamed in shock and fear, tossing their weapons to the ground.

It was a sight that defied belief. With godlike precision, Bardi had fired bullets directly into the muzzles of their rifles, triggering catastrophic explosions.

Bardi wasn't just a Kryptonian warrior, he was the most elite soldier his world had ever produced. And his skills were not merely the product of genetic enhancement. His strength came from relentless experience, from having fought countless battles against warriors far stronger than himself.

He was not only physically superior but mentally unparalleled. He analyzed every detail of his opponents—their psychology, behavior, language, even subconscious movements. He calculated every variable in his environment, turning it into a weapon against his foes.

On Krypton, even among those who were genetically engineered to be superior, Bardi's victories were legendary. Against those who should have easily outmatched him, he had prevailed through sheer will and mastery. His opponents were geniuses of war, yet Bardi had surpassed them all.

And now, armed with his awakened super senses—hearing, sight, and smell—his lethality had become something far beyond human comprehension.

Suddenly, through the gap in the door, a single eye appeared—a cold, ruthless gaze that carried an overwhelming sense of tyranny and death. It was as if the abyss itself was staring back at them, making their blood run cold.

Major Atherton's breath caught in his throat.

He had been through countless horrors—war, bloodshed, even atrocities but nothing had ever shaken him like this. He had killed without remorse, buried innocents in shallow graves, and walked away from it all unscathed. Yet this single eye filled him with a fear so profound that it froze him to his core.

For the first time in his life, Major Atherton felt true terror.

When the eye disappeared, a shiver ran down his spine. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and it was only then that he realized just how badly his body was shaking.

"This… this is a monster," he muttered under his breath.

The warehouse door swung open, revealing Bardi in full view. His towering figure loomed like an unbreakable mountain, his body emanating an almost otherworldly strength. His gaze swept over the soldiers with cold indifference, as if he were looking at insects.

"Open fire!"

Atherton's voice cracked as he screamed the order, his trembling hands gripping his rifle. The muzzle spat flames as he unloaded his weapon, desperate to hit his target.

But even in this moment, chaos reigned.

Of the forty soldiers present, thirteen were already out of the fight, their rifles destroyed by Bardi's impossibly precise shots. That left twenty-seven soldiers who could still fire, though some were in the middle of reloading.

Bardi's focus remained unshaken. He tracked every bullet, every angle, every shooter. His superhuman senses made the battlefield as clear as a map in his mind.

The soldiers opened fire, unleashing a hail of bullets, but Bardi was already moving.

The first wave of bullets tore through the air, their heat brushing against his skin. Even at this range, the slightest misstep could have been fatal. The scorching rounds passed so close that they curled the fine hairs on his body.

With a thunderous step, Bardi launched himself forward. His feet slammed into the concrete floor, leaving small, web-like cracks where he had stood.

His speed was astonishing. In an instant, he darted toward the nearest cover, a small laboratory made of reinforced steel.

Like a predator, he moved with precision and grace, leaping forward and rolling along his back to avoid the barrage of gunfire. To the soldiers, it seemed impossible. Somehow, Bardi had navigated through a storm of bullets, his movements blurring into an afterimage.

The soldiers were dumbfounded.

Bullets cut through the air, leaving faint white trails that faded as quickly as they appeared. To Bardi, however, those trails were as clear as lines drawn on a map. Bullets traveled in straight lines, and once they left the barrel, their paths were already determined.

Gunfire continued to erupt, the muzzle flashes illuminating the dim corridor. Major Atherton and his soldiers fired desperately, but their bullets never found their mark.

Panic set in.

The high-speed afterimages of Bardi's movements only deepened their terror. His blade-like gaze never left them, slicing through their confidence and replacing it with dread.

"This isn't possible…" Major Atherton's voice was barely a whisper, the realization dawning on him. "He's not human. We're the ones who are going to die."

Slade's words echoed in his mind with chilling clarity. He finally understood the colonel's fear.

Sparks erupted as bullets struck the steel walls. The soldiers had poured nearly a thousand rounds into the corridor, and yet, not a single bullet had hit its target.

The last few shots ricocheted off the walls, the metallic clang of the casings hitting the ground echoing in the silence that followed.

Bardi was gone. He had disappeared into the cover, leaving nothing but a suffocating silence in his wake.

The soldiers stood frozen, their breaths heavy, their bodies drenched in sweat. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, but it was the fear that choked them.

Major Atherton gritted his teeth, his heart pounding furiously. Nearly a thousand rounds fired and not one had so much as grazed their target.

This was no human.

This wasn't even a creature they could comprehend.

This was a monster.

*****

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