Psionic energy represented a genuine threat to General Zod and his Kryptonians. Despite their overwhelming physical power, despite their near-invulnerability to conventional weapons, they remained vulnerable at the mental and spiritual level.
The distinction was important, though. Their spiritual defenses weren't absent—they were simply underdeveloped compared to their physical capabilities. Ordinary psionic attacks from typical psychics would barely register as more than mild discomfort, maybe a slight dizziness or momentary disorientation.
But the Xel'Naga were different.
These beings weren't ordinary psychics. They were civilization guides, cosmic shepherds who'd shaped entire species across millions of years. Their power existed on a completely different scale—overwhelming, refined through eons of existence, carrying the weight of countless lifetimes.
Against that kind of force, the Kryptonians' underdeveloped mental defenses meant nothing. They simply couldn't withstand such concentrated psionic might. And worse, Xel'Naga psionic energy contained something extra—a special quality that let it bypass purely mental defenses and cause actual physical harm.
It could attack on both levels simultaneously, making it doubly dangerous.
"Heh, you're definitely worthy of being a Xel'Naga," Marcus said with casual amusement, raising one hand. "They really can't handle your power at all."
He waved dismissively, and void energy rippled outward. The lingering psionic assault that had been ravaging the Kryptonians' minds dissipated like smoke in a strong wind, the foreign energy consumed and neutralized by the Void's overwhelming presence.
Immediately, the Kryptonians gasped with relief. The crushing pressure on their thoughts vanished, the sensation of having their consciousness shredded by invisible knives finally ending.
Zod rose slowly to his feet, his jaw tight with frustration and concern. Faora pushed herself upright, shaking her head to clear the last vestiges of mental fog.
This was the first time since gaining their powers—since the biological force field had awakened within them—that they'd faced an opponent who could so thoroughly suppress them. An enemy other than Marcus, anyway.
Narud had seemed so unremarkable, so ordinary. A white-haired old man playing scientist. And he'd nearly incapacitated their entire strike force with a single attack.
The experience was humbling. Terrifying. And absolutely unacceptable.
"We need to develop anti-psionic technology immediately," Zod said, his voice carrying the weight of command decision. "Our defenses against this kind of power aren't nearly as strong as we assumed. This represents a critical vulnerability that must be addressed."
The other Kryptonians murmured agreement. They'd learned a hard lesson today about the dangers of spiritual warfare.
Though none of them could quite understand why the Tal'darim Protoss's psionic attacks hadn't displayed this level of destructive power. The High Templars had hurt them, yes, but not like this. Not with this overwhelming, consciousness-shattering intensity.
Perhaps it was the difference between a master and an apprentice. Between someone who'd studied an art for decades versus someone who'd perfected it across millennia.
Regardless of the reason, the Kryptonians now understood their shortcoming when facing true psionic might. And understanding was the first step toward finding a solution.
While the Kryptonians processed their vulnerability, Narud experienced his own revelation—though his was far more horrifying.
As a Xel'Naga, he understood his own power intimately. He knew exactly how devastating that psionic explosion should have been, could calculate the expected damage to unshielded minds with precise accuracy.
But against Marcus? His most powerful attack had been less than a breeze. Completely ineffective. Casually dismissed like it was nothing.
Is this what happens when someone masters the Void? Narud wondered, horror creeping through his thoughts. Does controlling that realm grant this level of power?
The Xel'Naga existed in the Void between incarnations, yes, but they didn't control it. They endured it, survived it, eventually escaped from it. The Void was a place they feared, not a tool they wielded.
But this human—if he even was human—commanded void energy like it was an extension of his own will.
Panic overrode calculation. Narud turned and fled, abandoning all pretense of dignity or strategy. He just needed to escape, to get away from this impossible being who treated Xel'Naga power like an amusing novelty.
Marcus laughed at the sight of the ancient entity running away. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"
As he spoke, Marcus pulled something from his armor—a blue sphere that pulsed with contained energy. With a casual toss, he threw it toward Narud's fleeing form.
The sphere detonated mid-flight, but not with explosive force. Instead, it released a wave of energy that expanded rapidly, creating a massive field that covered the surrounding space.
The moment the field touched him, Narud found himself completely immobilized. His body refused to respond to his commands, his limbs frozen in place like he'd been trapped in invisible amber.
The blue sphere at the field's center pulsed rhythmically, each pulse sending waves of energy through Narud's suspended form. And with each wave, he could feel something changing—his defenses weakening, his resistance degrading, his very essence becoming more vulnerable.
"What is this?!" Narud tried to struggle, tried to channel power against the containment, but nothing worked. "This is impossible! I shouldn't be this helpless!"
Even as just an incarnation rather than his true form, he was still a Xel'Naga. He possessed power that dwarfed most beings in the universe. Being captured this easily, this completely, defied everything he understood about his own capabilities.
He saw Marcus approaching slowly, that amused smile still on the man's face, and fresh terror spiked through Narud's consciousness.
"Don't bother trying," Marcus said pleasantly. "Breaking free from that field is impossible for you."
The armor Marcus currently wore was Vauban—a Warframe specialized in crowd control and area denial. While it hadn't yet achieved Prime status, Marcus had integrated both Reality Empowerment and Strength Empowerment into its systems.
Those two augmentations working together had elevated Vauban's capabilities to an absurd degree. The frame could now generate containment fields powerful enough to restrain even Dimensional Demon Gods—beings that existed partially outside normal space-time and could warp reality through will alone.
Narud, for all his ancient knowledge and cosmic significance, hadn't even reached Dimensional Demon God level. Trying to resist empowered Vauban's containment was like an ant trying to lift a mountain.
As Marcus drew closer, void energy began to gather at his fingertips. The darkness coalesced into something almost solid, reaching toward Narud's face with terrible purpose.
Marcus's hand made contact, fingers wrapping around Narud's skull. In that instant, Narud's eyes blazed with blinding light—not his own power, but void energy pouring through them like channels.
The spiritual world within Narud's mind was forcibly invaded. Marcus's consciousness crashed through every mental defense, overwhelmed every protection, and seized complete control of the Xel'Naga's thoughts and memories.
Narud's own awareness was shoved aside, compressed into a tiny corner of his own mind where it could only watch helplessly as a foreign presence rifled through everything he knew.
Marcus's consciousness spread through Narud's memories like roots through soil, absorbing and cataloging everything. Millennia of accumulated knowledge flowed into him—genetic engineering techniques, biological manipulation methods, hybrid creation processes, Xel'Naga theory and philosophy.
"Ah... so that's how it works..."
After what felt like hours but was actually only moments, Marcus withdrew from Narud's mind. His eyes refocused on the external world, a satisfied expression on his face.
He'd obtained Narud's complete technological knowledge. The Xel'Naga's specialty was genetic engineering—the ability to fuse disparate species together without genetic rejection or systemic failure. That was the fundamental technology behind hybrid creation.
It reminded Marcus of Kryptonian genetic science, actually. Both civilizations had achieved mastery over biological code, though their approaches differed.
Krypton focused inward, perfecting their own species through careful gene compilation. Every Kryptonian was designed before birth, their genetic potential predetermined and optimized for specific roles in society.
Narud's technology looked outward instead, finding ways to merge multiple species' traits into viable organisms. Different philosophical approaches, but both represented pinnacles of genetic engineering.
"Same destination, different paths," Marcus mused. "Biology at this level of sophistication really does converge on similar principles."
"Now then," Marcus said, his tone shifting to something more final. "You're not useful anymore. How about I send you back to the Void where you belong?"
The words sounded like a question, but Marcus didn't wait for an answer. Void energy surged from his body, wrapping around Narud's frozen form with lethal intent.
The Xel'Naga's incarnation began to dissolve, consciousness and matter both breaking down under the Void's corrosive touch. Within seconds, Narud had been reduced to scattered particles.
Then even those particles ignited, and the ancient being's avatar exploded in a brief, brilliant flash—one more firework display for the assembled witnesses.
Everyone stared at the dissipating light, then turned their attention to Marcus. Curiosity and wariness mixed in their expressions.
How had he known Narud was a Xel'Naga in the first place? What was Marcus, really? Where did his power come from?
So many questions, and Marcus showed no inclination to provide answers.
"If you're planning to act against Amon," Marcus said casually, addressing the assembled fleet, "I'd suggest you hurry up. Your enemy is preparing to destroy the universe, after all. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting."
Zeratul stood on the Void Seeker's hull, his expression troubled. He'd just witnessed a being he'd once considered divine—a Xel'Naga—killed as casually as swatting an insect. And he felt... nothing.
No grief, no sense of sacred loss, no religious horror at the death of a creator-being.
Because the god Zeratul believed in wasn't creatures like Narud or Amon. The Xel'Naga he revered were the ones who'd genuinely guided the Protoss toward enlightenment, who'd protected and nurtured rather than manipulated and controlled.
Amon had enslaved the Khalai Protoss through the Khala. Narud had created hybrid abominations. Neither represented the ideals Zeratul held sacred.
"I need to leave," Zeratul said abruptly, making his decision. "Artanis is planning to lead the Protoss in a counterattack to reclaim Aiur. I have to stop him before he makes a catastrophic mistake."
The Protoss homeworld was still under Zerg occupation. Reclaiming it was a dream many Protoss shared, but rushing into that battle without understanding the true threat—without preparing for Amon's return—would be suicide.
Zeratul turned to leave, but Marcus's voice stopped him.
"Wait a moment. Maybe we should travel together. I can take you somewhere interesting—a place with things that fascinate me. And things that might be crucial for your mission."
The Dark Templar paused, looking back at Marcus with confusion. "What place?"
Marcus smiled mysteriously. "Jim, make sure the Xel'Naga artifact comes with us. We're going somewhere very special."
He'd found the coordinates in Narud's memory—the location of Ulnar, the gathering place of the Xel'Naga. The Temple of Ulnar held the remains of countless Xel'Naga who'd been slaughtered by Amon in his mad quest for dominance.
"Matt," Jim spoke into his comm after receiving Marcus's instruction, "bring the artifact. We're moving to a new location. Coordinates to follow."
"Understood, Commander," Matt's voice crackled back. "Preparing the fleet for transit."
"Oh, and Queen of Blades," Marcus added, his attention shifting to Kerrigan. "You should definitely come along. This place has quite a lot to do with your future."
The Temple of Ulnar contained secrets of Kerrigan's evolution—the keys to her transformation into something beyond even the Queen of Blades. And the temple connected directly to the surface of the Void, serving as a doorway the Xel'Naga used to enter and exit normal space.
Kerrigan hesitated, her glowing eyes suspicious. Trust didn't come easily to her anymore, and following mysterious suggestions from powerful strangers felt dangerous.
But then she caught Jim's gaze. He gave her a slight nod—not pressuring, just indicating he thought it was worth the risk.
That was enough. Kerrigan made her decision.
"My Leviathan will follow your fleet," she announced, her voice carrying authority. The massive bio-ship began adjusting its course to match the Dark Aster's trajectory.
Several Days Later – Ulnar Space
A massive fleet emerged from warp space, led by the imposing bulk of the Dark Aster. The Hyperion, Kerrigan's Leviathan, Zeratul's Void Seeker, and dozens of support vessels had made the journey together.
Now they floated in space before an ancient structure—the Temple of Ulnar, built by the Xel'Naga themselves millennia ago.
"This is our destination," Marcus announced across the fleet-wide comm. "Welcome to where the Xel'Naga used to live. Or at least, where they came to die."
The temple was massive even from this distance, its architecture defying easy description. It seemed to exist partially outside normal space, its edges blurring in ways that hurt to look at directly.
ROAR—
A bestial sound echoed across the comm channels. Then several creatures came into view, rushing toward the fleet with clear hostile intent.
They looked somewhat like Zerg at first glance—armored carapaces, multiple limbs, obvious predatory features. But there was something wrong about them, something that set them apart from standard Zerg organisms.
"Are those... hybrids?" Zeratul's voice carried recognition and disgust.
He'd encountered these abominations before in his investigations. They weren't Zerg, despite the superficial resemblance. They were something far worse.
"Exactly right," Marcus confirmed cheerfully. "Those are Narud's creations. Hybrids based on Zerg genetics, fused with Protoss psionic capabilities. He called this particular variant 'Ravagers.'"
Marcus spoke from direct memory—Narud's knowledge was now his own, including detailed information about every hybrid the scientist had created.
"Hybrids..." Zod studied the approaching creatures with tactical assessment, his enhanced vision picking up details others would miss.
He could sense something unusual about these beings. They radiated a subtle threat similar to what he'd felt from the Xel'Naga. These beast-like organisms somehow carried power comparable to the ancient cosmic entities.
"Someone intercept them," Zod ordered. "Let's test their capabilities."
One Kryptonian immediately shot forward, covering the distance in seconds. He pulled back his fist and drove it into the lead Ravager's massive pincer with devastating force.
BOOM—
The impact was tremendous. The Ravager's pincer shattered under the blow, armored chitin exploding into fragments.
But in exchange, the Kryptonian's fist came away bleeding. Deep gashes ran across his knuckles where the hybrid's carapace had torn through invulnerable skin.
"Just as I suspected," Zod muttered, his frown deepening.
When he'd first sensed the Ravagers' power signature, he'd predicted this outcome. Now reality confirmed his tactical assessment.
"Did Narud enhance the Zerg's polymer claw blades?" Zod asked, his analytical mind working through the problem.
He knew the weak Xel'Naga psionic energy present in the hybrids couldn't account for this level of damage to Kryptonian physiology. There had to be another factor.
When they'd first encountered the Zerg, Zod had ordered his scientists to study captured specimens. One discovery had stood out: Zerg bone claws weren't actually bone. They were polymer constructs—engineered materials with remarkable penetration capabilities against most known metals and alloys.
These hybrids, combining Protoss psionic power with Zerg physical traits, had apparently taken that polymer claw technology and enhanced it dramatically. That was why they could harm supposedly invulnerable Kryptonians.
"Oh, by the way," Marcus added helpfully, "you should be careful with these particular hybrids. They retained one of the Zerg's most dangerous abilities—adaptive evolution through genetic assimilation. If they manage to consume and absorb genetic material from a target, they can purposefully evolve to counter that target's strengths."
The words made Zod's blood run cold. "They can steal genes through consumption? And evolve accordingly?"
That was beyond dangerous. That was potentially catastrophic.
"Kill them immediately!" Zod's command was sharp and urgent. "Do not let any of them get close enough to consume biological material! Destroy them at range!"
This kind of gene-theft capability put the Ravagers on the same threat level as the Zerg Swarm itself. Actually, potentially worse—at least the Swarm's evolution happened across generations. These hybrids could apparently adapt within their own lifetimes.
If even one Ravager managed to consume Kryptonian genetic material and assimilate it... they'd suddenly be facing enemies with Kryptonian-level durability and strength. That would be an absolute disaster.
Following Zod's order, the Kryptonian who'd engaged in melee immediately disengaged, putting distance between himself and the wounded Ravager.
The hybrid's pincers might be devastatingly sharp, but its defensive capabilities weren't proportional to its offensive power. While close combat was dangerous, the Kryptonian had other options.
His eyes began to glow with building energy. Then twin beams of heat vision lanced out, merging into a single concentrated ray that struck the Ravager center-mass.
The scorching heat vision distorted the air around it, thermal energy so intense it created visible warping. The hybrid's hardened shell resisted for perhaps a second before the focused beam burned straight through.
ROAR—
The Ravager's pained wail echoed across space as its carapace was penetrated. The armor that had seemed so formidable simply couldn't withstand that level of sustained thermal assault.
And once the outer shell was breached, the flesh beneath stood no chance. The heat vision burned through organic tissue like it was paper, reducing internal structures to ash within seconds.
The hybrid collapsed, its body still smoking, functionally dead even if some residual biological processes continued for a few moments.
"Good," Zod said, watching the kill with satisfaction. "Their offensive capabilities are dangerous, but their defenses are manageable. We can work with this."
"Don't get too comfortable," Marcus cautioned. "These Ravagers are just one type of hybrid. Narud created multiple variants. There are also hybrids based primarily on Protoss genetics rather than Zerg. Those ones have psionic capabilities far exceeding anything you encountered with the Tal'darim Templars."
The warning made Zod's brief satisfaction evaporate. His frown returned, deeper than before.
They were already struggling with psionic defenses. The Tal'darim High Templars had nearly incapacitated them. Now Marcus was saying there were hybrids even more powerful in that regard?
"Protoss-based hybrids with superior psionic abilities..." Zod repeated slowly, thinking through implications. "That's a significant problem."
They had no effective countermeasures against psionic assault. Their only defense was raw toughness—trying to endure the mental attacks through sheer willpower and physical resilience. Against sufficiently powerful psychics, that strategy simply failed.
"Research into psionic resistance needs to be our absolute top priority," Zod announced to his assembled Kryptonians. "This represents an existential threat to our people. We cannot establish New Krypton while leaving ourselves vulnerable to enemies who can bypass all our physical advantages. I want proposals for anti-psionic technology within the week."
The other Kryptonians nodded grimly. Today had been educational—and terrifying. They'd discovered a weakness they couldn't ignore, a vulnerability that determined enemies could exploit to devastating effect.
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