Jor-El would soon make the hardest decision any parent could face. He would place his infant son in an experimental ship and launch him to planet Earth.
That son would become the protagonist of those comic book stories. The supposed Last Son of Krypton, raised by farmers and taught to hide his true nature from a world that would fear him.
But he wouldn't be the last, not if I had anything to say about it.
"LYRA," I said, wincing slightly as one of the nanobots worked on a particularly deep cut. "Pull up the file on Jor-El of the Science Guild. I want to see everything we have on him and his family."
"Accessing personnel records now," came her immediate response. "Jor-El, current position: Senior Research Coordinator, Theoretical Physics Division. File retrieved."
The holographic display materialized before me, streams of data forming into detailed profiles and records.
Small medical bots had emerged from the walls. While LYRA compiled the information, their mechanical arms carefully extracted the glass shards from my palm, while tissue regenerators worked to heal the wounds.
I barely noticed the slight tingling sensation as they worked. My attention was completely focused on the information floating in the air before me.
House El. The family that was supposed to save Krypton's legacy.
"Senior Research Coordinator?" I read aloud, "LYRA, what's his career trajectory been like?"
"Jor-El has held one of the highest positions in the Science Guild for the past five years," she replied. "According to internal assessments, he has the strongest probability of being selected as the next Guild Master when the position becomes available."
"His wife, Lara Lor-Van," LYRA continued, "Former Military Guild member, honorably discharged five years ago. Currently civilian status, specializing in xenobiology research."
The image shifted to show a striking woman with fierce eyes and the bearing of someone who'd seen combat. The information about them matched my own.
But it was the next piece of information that made my world tilt on its axis.
"Their son, Kal-El, age sixteen—"
'Sixteen!?' I stared at the information, my mind reeling. 'Wasn't Kal-El supposed to be a baby? Not even born yet?'
According to Alex's memories, Jor-El would send his infant son to Earth in a small escape pod just moments before Krypton's destruction. The baby would grow up among humans, eventually becoming their greatest protector.
But this Kal-El was already sixteen years old, nearly a man by Kryptonian standards.
I rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of this discrepancy. Everything else seemed to align with what I knew—the dying planet, the Council's cover-up, even the family names were correct.
"Is it because of the merger?" I muttered to myself, thinking about the strange combination of DC and Marvel elements I'd already discovered.
Then it hit me.
There had been something in Alex's memories about a new comic series. Something called "Absolute Superman," where the story was different, where Kal-El was older when he left Krypton.
'So this isn't the same timeline,' I realized. 'The broad strokes are the same, but the details have changed.'
This was both troubling. Would there be more changes? I hope not.
"Young master," LYRA's voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts, "the asset inventory you requested has been completed. Additionally, Commander Jon-Sno has arrived and is waiting in your main study."
I looked down at my hand. The medical bots had finished their work, leaving behind unmarked skin where moments before there had been blood and glass. Not even a scar remained.
"I'll review the inventory after speaking with the Commander," I said, dismissing the holographic display with a gesture.
I made my way through the corridors of our estate, my footsteps echoing off polished stone and crystal. The study where Commander Jon-Sno waited was smaller than my father's office but more comfortable, designed for private conversations rather than formal meetings.
As I entered, I caught sight of a tall figure in military dress standing at attention near the window, and for just a moment, I flinched.
My new memories flashed through my mind—another Jon Snow from some primitive world, a bastard who became a king. The names were so similar that it was jarring.
I shook off the intrusive thoughts as Commander Jon-Sno turned toward me. He was a man in his forties, with the bearing of someone who had spent his life in service to something greater than himself. He placed one arm across his chest and lowered his head in a formal salute.
"Your Grace."
Most nobles called me "young master" or, more recently, "Lord Rao". "Your Grace" was reserved for moments of utmost formality and respect.
The Sno family had served House Rao for generations. Their heads had traditionally held the position of Commander of our personal forces. They weren't just military officers—they were protectors of our bloodline, and the sword arm of House Rao.
Jon-Sno wasn't just a commander. He was the current Head of House Sno, making him both my military leader and my vassal lord.
"At ease, Commander," I said, settling into one of the study's chairs.
Jon relaxed slightly but remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back in a position that spoke of decades of military discipline.
"How are things holding up?" I asked.
"Everything is proceeding smoothly, my lord," he replied, though his eyes held a sharpness that suggested he sensed this wasn't a routine check-in.
"The recruits are integrating well with the main troops stationed in the Southern Continent. Training exercises have been particularly successful this cycle."
The Southern Continent. A vast expanse of barren land that officially belonged to House Rao, used primarily for military training and weapons testing. Far from prying eyes and curious Council observers, it had become our primary base of operations over the past decades.
I studied Jon-Sno's face. His expression remained neutral, but I could see the intelligence in his eyes. This was not a man who could be easily fooled or dismissed.
"Commander Jon," I said carefully, allowing my voice to carry the weight of what was coming, "what I'm about to tell you must not leave this room. Do you understand?"
Jon's posture straightened even further, if that was possible. Whatever casual atmosphere had existed between us evaporated like morning frost under a red sun.
"Of course, Your Grace."
I took a deep breath. There was no gentle way to deliver this kind of news, no diplomatic phrasing that could soften the blow I was about to deliver.
"Krypton is going to be destroyed."
I told him everything. The core's instability, the Council's century-long cover-up, the mining operations that were accelerating our doom. I explained how twenty million of our people had been deliberately recalled from colonies that could have survived the catastrophe.
I even showed him the holographic display of our core's condition.
Jon-Sno listened without interruption, his face growing darker with each revelation. By the time I finished, his jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscles working beneath his skin.
"Your Grace," Jon said finally, his voice carefully controlled but vibrating with barely contained rage, "my father always harbored doubts about the Council's recent policies. Many of their decisions seemed... counterproductive to our people's wellbeing. But this..."
He shook his head, and for the first time since I'd known him, Jon-Sno looked genuinely shaken.
"This explains everything," he continued, his voice gaining strength as the pieces fell into place.
"The resource consolidation that made no economic sense. The colony recalls that it weakened our interplanetary presence. The restrictions on off-world research projects that crippled our scientific advancement."
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
"They haven't just been incompetent, Your Grace. They've been actively working toward our extinction."
"Don't worry, Commander," I said, leaning forward to meet his eyes directly. "Even if Krypton is destroyed, I will ensure that our civilization lives on. Our people will survive this—I swear it on the name of Rao himself."
Something shifted in Jon's expression—not hope exactly, but a recognition that there might be a path forward through the darkness.
"What do you need me to do, Your Grace?"
I moved to the window, looking out at the training grounds where soldiers moved through their drills.
"Summon back our forces," I said without hesitation. "All of them."
Jon's eyebrows rose slightly. "How many of them, your Grace?"
"Every single unit, Commander. Every last soldier, every ship, every piece of equipment. We're going to need them all."
For the first time since I'd started speaking, Jon looked genuinely concerned about something other than our impending doom.
"But if we summon all of them, the Council will take notice. A mobilization of that scale will trigger their monitoring systems. They'll want to know why we're consolidating our forces."
I turned back to face him and met his gaze steadily, allowing him to see the resolve burning in my eyes.
"It doesn't matter what they notice, Jon. In our attempts to save our people, they might just declare us traitors. Their opinion ceased to matter the moment they chose genocide over truth."
"Are you ready for that possibility, Commander? Are you prepared to be branded as an enemy of Krypton while fighting to preserve everything we hold dear?"
Jon-Sno's response was immediate and unwavering.
"My lord," he said, his voice ringing with the certainty of absolute conviction, "House Sno has only ever been proud of one thing: our loyalty. We don't serve the Council. We don't serve the Guild. We serve House Rao, and through you, we serve our people."
"No matter what they call us, no matter what accusations they level against us, we will follow you anywhere you lead us. To the edge of the galaxy and beyond, if necessary."
I felt something settle in my chest—not just gratitude, but a recognition of the weight this man was willingly accepting on my behalf.
"Then let's get to work, Commander."
I said, extending my hand to him. "We have a civilization to save."
.....
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