"So you've completed the restoration of Kryptonian technology?" Marcus looked at General Zod with genuine curiosity mixed with mild surprise.
He'd known the restoration project was nearing completion—had been monitoring their progress casually—but the efficiency was still impressive. Though considering what truly motivated Zod and his people, perhaps it made sense.
The Kryptonians didn't care about the technology itself as much as they cared about what completing that restoration would earn them: the Codex of Krypton. The genetic blueprint of their entire species. The key to rebuilding their civilization properly.
"Yes," Zod confirmed, barely containing his excitement. His usual military composure was cracking around the edges, eagerness bleeding through. "We've finished. The reconstruction is complete. Which means our transaction can finally be concluded!"
After so long, after so much work and patience, they could finally claim their prize. They could take that resource-rich planet Valerian had provided and begin the work of creating New Krypton—a true homeworld, not just a temporary shelter.
"Concluded?" Marcus smiled, glancing at Zod with knowing amusement. Then he nodded. "Alright. The deal is complete. You'll hand over the Kryptonian technology archive, and I'll give you the Codex."
Both parties produced their respective payment simultaneously.
Zod held a sophisticated piece of Kryptonian super-intelligence hardware—a crystalline data storage unit containing the complete technological knowledge of Krypton's civilization. Millennia of scientific advancement compressed into a device smaller than a human head.
Marcus, in turn, withdrew a black container roughly the height of a person. Inside that box rested the Codex of Krypton—or rather, a perfect copy extracted from Clark Kent's genetic structure. The complete genetic code of every Kryptonian who had ever existed, encoded in intricate molecular patterns.
They exchanged their items. Marcus accepted the super-intelligence with casual appreciation. Zod took the Codex container with reverent care, like he was handling the most precious artifact in existence.
Which, for the Kryptonians, it absolutely was.
"Well then," Marcus said cheerfully, waving to the assembled Kryptonians, "I guess this is farewell. Until we meet again!"
But Zod and the others didn't respond. They were completely absorbed in examining the container before them, their enhanced vision penetrating the exterior to verify what lay inside.
The Codex. Real. Intact. Finally theirs.
Their movements were incredibly gentle as they handled the container, treating it with the kind of care usually reserved for handling unstable explosives. Every touch calculated, every adjustment measured, terrified that excessive force might somehow damage the irreplaceable contents.
It took considerable time before the Kryptonians could tear themselves away from admiring their prize. Eventually, they departed the Dark Aster and transferred to the industrial construction vessel they'd traded from Valerian Mengsk.
Their destination was clear and singular: the resource planet on the sector's edge. That world would become the foundation of New Krypton, the birthplace of their species' resurrection.
"Looks like it's time for me to leave too," Marcus murmured to himself, watching the Kryptonian ship depart.
He turned his attention to the super-intelligence unit containing Kryptonian technology, connecting it to Will for integration and analysis.
The technological knowledge stored in the super-intelligence was extraordinarily advanced—representing one of the most sophisticated civilizations in multiple universes. But Will was something else entirely. An AI that had absorbed and mastered technologies from countless realities, possessed computational power that defied easy measurement.
The Kryptonian super-intelligence had no backup processing reserves, no redundant systems to draw on. When Will engaged it directly, the outcome was immediate and decisive. The foreign system was suppressed instantly, then absorbed and integrated into Will's existing architecture.
After several minutes of processing, Will's physical manifestation began to change. The geometric patterns that normally composed her form shifted and reorganized, adopting a more defined humanoid shape.
"Well, you look different," Marcus observed with interest.
"Yes, Commander," Will replied, her voice carrying new tonal qualities. "Kryptonian technology contains extremely high-level computational architecture. I upgraded my own systems while absorbing and integrating their knowledge base."
Her body now displayed distinctly feminine characteristics—curves and proportions that suggested human female anatomy. But closer inspection revealed the truth: Will's form was clearly artificial, resembling an advanced android or holographic interface similar to the mechanical adjutants used by Terran vessels.
"Since you've absorbed Kryptonian technology," Marcus said, ideas already forming, "let's start preparing for our next journey. And load the Codex data into the ship's systems. It's not right to have a vessel this large operating without a proper crew complement."
Marcus's plan was simple but ambitious: use the Codex of Krypton to create a dedicated crew for the Dark Aster. New Kryptonians, born and raised aboard the ship, who would serve as his companions while traveling between realities.
More than that, he intended to design and produce mass-manufactured Warframe variants for these new crew members—armor that didn't require Aya essence, making them more accessible for widespread deployment.
Following Marcus's orders, Will began reconfiguring the Dark Aster's interior. Kryptonian genesis chambers needed to be installed—the specialized birthing pods that were the only way Kryptonians could be properly created under their eugenic system.
The modifications were extensive and obvious. Everyone watching from Korhal could see the Dark Aster undergoing major internal restructuring, could observe the Kryptonians departing on their construction vessel.
Naturally, this attracted attention and curiosity.
Jim Raynor arrived at the Dark Aster personally, wanting to understand what was happening.
"Mr. Marcus, what's going on? I saw General Zod and his people leaving..."
"Nothing dramatic," Marcus replied with a casual shrug. "My deal with Zod is complete. They got what they wanted, I got what I wanted. Now they're heading to that resource planet to begin their new lives."
He paused, then added: "And I'm leaving too."
Jim felt surprise jolt through him. "You're leaving? Now? But—"
Knowing that Marcus intended to depart, Jim abandoned any pretense of casual conversation. Time to be direct about what he needed.
"Mr. Marcus, there's something I need your help with." Jim's voice carried urgency and barely-concealed desperation. "We've received word that Sarah has completed her final evolution. The Protoss have also successfully reclaimed Aiur. We're preparing to launch our assault against Amon."
Though Jim didn't explicitly state what kind of help he wanted, Marcus understood perfectly.
Whether it was the Zerg forces under Kerrigan's command, or Artanis and his Protoss Golden Armada, or the human Dominion fleet that Jim represented—none of them were completely confident in their chances against Amon.
They were facing a god. A being who'd slaughtered entire pantheons. An entity with power that made planets seem fragile.
They wanted insurance. A guarantee that if their assault failed, if their combined strength proved insufficient, they'd have backup. They wanted Marcus and Zod as their last resort—the overwhelming force they could call on to ensure victory even if everything else went wrong.
"Hahaha!" Marcus laughed, genuinely amused by the request. "Don't worry so much, Jim. Zod will participate in your assault—he and his people will be there fighting alongside you."
Then his expression grew more serious.
"As for me? I won't be joining the battle directly. But I'll leave you some... let's call them 'ultimate weapons.' Tools that can secure victory when properly deployed. Consider them my contribution to your war effort."
Marcus had zero interest in personally confronting Amon. He didn't see any point in witnessing a supposedly cosmic threat that had been driven back by determined Protoss and Zerg forces. If Amon was truly that overwhelming, the younger races wouldn't stand a chance.
The dark god was powerful, certainly. But not insurmountable. And that made him less interesting as an opponent.
Seeing Marcus's firm decision, Jim stopped trying to persuade him. He recognized that tone—the absolute certainty that indicated no amount of argument would change the outcome.
Honestly, Jim would probably have better luck convincing Amon to abandon his nihilistic ambitions than convincing Marcus to alter his plans.
Still, the mention of "ultimate weapons" sparked hope. If Marcus was offering something, it would be effective. The man didn't make empty promises.
Marcus walked to a storage compartment and withdrew a wrapped package. Inside were several dozen spherical devices, each about the size of a grenade but clearly far more sophisticated.
"These are photon beacons," Marcus explained, handling them with casual care that suggested they weren't fragile despite their importance. "Once you activate a beacon, it will establish a targeting lock for my rail cannon installation. The system will then deliver devastating photon bombardment to the beacon's location."
The devices had been constructed using Vauban's photon strike technology as a foundation, augmented with energy drawn from the Power Stone. Each beacon represented concentrated destructive potential that could level entire battle formations.
"There are about a dozen beacons in this package," Marcus continued. "That should be sufficient for your needs, especially since Zod and his forces will be participating actively in the battle."
Jim accepted the package with something approaching reverence, though his expression carried skepticism. The beacons seemed almost too simple, too unassuming. But they came from Marcus, and that meant they were legitimate trump cards against Amon.
After Jim departed with his new arsenal, Marcus initiated the Dark Aster's launch sequence. The massive vessel slowly lifted from its position near Korhal, beginning its journey toward the edge of the system and beyond.
Shortly after Marcus's departure, Jim rallied his fleet and began the journey to reunite with the evolved Kerrigan. The assembled armada was impressive—dozens of battlecruisers, countless support vessels, enough firepower to conquer systems under normal circumstances.
Jim had also dispatched a team to New Krypton's location, informing Zod about the gathering point and timing for their assault on Amon.
More and more forces converged at the designated coordinates. The human Dominion fleet arrived first, their formation tight and professional. Then came Kerrigan's Leviathan, accompanied by a swarm of Zerg bio-ships that moved with eerie coordination. The Protoss appeared next—the legendary Golden Armada in all its glory, hundreds of gleaming warships arranged in perfect geometric patterns. And finally, the Spear of Adun itself, the colossal arkship that served as the Protoss's greatest engineering achievement.
Leaders from all three factions gathered for final coordination, discussing strategy and waiting for the last expected ally.
"Zeratul mentioned you had a powerful ally," Hierarch Artanis said, addressing Jim directly. Executor Selendis stood beside him, equally curious. "Will they be joining our assault?"
Both Protoss had heard stories about the humans' mysterious benefactor—beings with power so overwhelming it inspired despair, accompanied by servants who possessed nearly equivalent strength.
"No," Jim replied, his tone carrying regret. "Marcus has already left the sector. But he provided us with weapons—devices that can turn the tide if our assault falters. If we find ourselves losing against Amon, we'll deploy what Marcus gave us."
As he spoke, Jim's gaze drifted toward the vast darkness of space, as if he could still sense where Marcus had gone.
"Once General Zod arrives with his forces, we can begin the operation. Amon will fall. He has to."
Time passed slowly, tension building as everyone waited.
Then space rippled. Reality distorted, and a vessel emerged from warp—the industrial ship that served as New Krypton's construction base, retrofitted with military capabilities.
"They're here!" Jim's face broke into a relieved smile. "That's them!"
The Kryptonian vessel approached rapidly, and soon General Zod emerged. He wore full combat armor—sleek Kryptonian battle gear that enhanced his already formidable capabilities. Faora stood beside him, equally equipped for war. Behind them came several dozen combat-specialized Kryptonians, each one a living weapon.
Most of the Kryptonian population remained on New Krypton, continuing the construction work that would establish their permanent home. Zod had brought only the warriors—those whose talents lay in battle rather than building.
"Has Marcus already departed?" Zod asked immediately upon seeing Jim, a note of surprise in his voice.
He'd known Marcus would leave eventually, but the timing seemed faster than expected. The man really didn't waste time once his business concluded.
"Mr. Marcus left, yes," Jim confirmed with a slight smile, despite his lingering disappointment. "But he provided us with tools to defeat Amon. Weapons that can ensure our victory."
He gestured to the package of photon beacons secured at his side.
"Between what Marcus left us and your forces, General, we have everything we need. This operation will succeed."
Zod nodded approvingly, then turned his attention to the Protoss delegation. His enhanced vision studied Artanis and Selendis with tactical assessment.
"Where's the Protoss from our previous encounter?" Zod asked, his tone curious rather than accusatory. "The one called Zeratul? I'd expected to see him here."
"Zeratul is dead." Artanis's voice dropped, heavy with sorrow and guilt. "He fell during the liberation of Aiur."
The simple statement hung in the air like a physical weight.
"Dead?" Zod's surprise was genuine, one eyebrow rising. "If I recall correctly, his combat capabilities were substantial. How did someone of his skill level fall?"
"Amon killed him," Artanis explained, each word clearly painful. "The dark god took control of my body, used me as his puppet. I fought Zeratul while under Amon's influence—my attacks were lethal, precise, completely without mercy. Zeratul could have defeated me easily, but he held back. He showed compassion even when I showed him none."
The Hierarch's hands clenched into fists, his crystalline features tight with anguish.
"In the end, Zeratul saved me. He severed my nerve cord, cutting my connection to the corrupted Khala and breaking Amon's control. But that act of salvation gave me the opening to deliver a fatal strike. I killed the person who rescued me, who sacrificed himself so I could be free."
The raw emotion in Artanis's confession affected everyone present. Even the Kryptonians, who'd barely known Zeratul, felt the weight of such a loss.
"Then we need to focus on what matters now," Jim said firmly, stepping forward to refocus everyone's attention. "We're facing the one truly responsible for Zeratul's death. Whether we fight for Zeratul's memory, or for our own goals and survival, we must defeat Amon. There's no other acceptable outcome."
"Agreed," Kerrigan's voice rang out, her transformed body radiating power that made reality shimmer around her. "Zeratul's sacrifice cannot be meaningless. We'll use Amon's destruction to honor his memory."
Since reuniting with the others, they'd managed to locate Amon's current position. The dark god had retreated to the deepest reaches of the Void—the realm between realities where only Xel'Naga could normally survive.
But they had a way in. The Xel'Naga artifact, properly deployed at the Temple of Ulnar, could open a portal to that impossible space.
"All forces, prepare for transit!" Artanis's command boomed across every ship in the assembled armada. "We move together, or not at all!"
At Ulnar, the Xel'Naga artifact activated with blinding brilliance. The temple began to shake violently, then the entire planet started trembling from tectonic stress as impossible energies built to critical levels.
Every vessel in the assembled fleet surrounded Ulnar, maintaining careful formation as they waited for the portal to stabilize.
The Temple of Ulnar began rising from the planet's surface, ancient mechanisms engaging after millennia of dormancy. The structure lifted into space, then transformed—unfolding from a compact building into an enormous triangular pyramid. Then the pyramid itself opened, sections spreading apart to reveal a massive portal at its heart.
The gateway pulsed with energy that hurt to look at directly—a tear in reality itself, leading to a place that shouldn't be accessible to physical beings.
"Move out!" Jim's command echoed across the fleet. "Our enemy is waiting on the other side!"
The armada surged forward as one. Human battlecruisers, Zerg bio-ships, Protoss carriers, and Kryptonian warriors all passed through the impossible doorway together. The greatest alliance the Koprulu Sector had ever assembled, united against a common threat.
They were heading into the Void itself to face a dark god.
The Void Between Realities
While the assembled forces prepared for their final battle, Marcus had already entered the greater Void—the space between universes rather than the shallow void Amon inhabited.
He was searching for his next destination, looking for a reality suitable for testing his newly designed Warframes.
"So many worlds," Marcus muttered, studying the countless realities floating through the darkness like bubbles in an infinite ocean. "All completely unknown until you actually enter them. Opening blind boxes is really tedious."
Each world was a mystery. You couldn't assess power levels or threat rankings from outside—you had to commit to entering before understanding what you'd face.
If Marcus wanted to just randomly pick any world, that would be simple enough. But he wanted to find a reality with significant power—a universe where the challenges would actually test his capabilities and his new armor designs.
If he ended up in some ordinary world where even un-augmented Warframes would dominate effortlessly... well, that defeated the entire purpose of the exercise.
"I need to find a world with stronger dimensional fluctuations," Marcus decided. "Turbulent realities suggest major conflicts, powerful beings, significant threats. Even if the world itself isn't particularly dangerous, that level of instability means something interesting is happening."
He began examining the floating realities around him more carefully, searching for telltale signs of dimensional stress or reality-warping events.
Most worlds appeared calm—stable bubbles of reality experiencing no particular crisis. But Marcus wasn't in a hurry. The Void contained infinite universes. Eventually, he'd find what he needed.
He continued searching, drifting through the spaces between spaces, when suddenly—
Marcus felt something activate. A distant connection triggering, his power being drawn upon by external forces.
The photon beacons he'd given to Jim. Someone had activated one.
"Ah, so it's begun?" Marcus smiled, raising one hand casually.
Following the connection, Marcus gestured and summoned the weapon system he'd prepared. A massive rail cannon materialized in the space between universes—a weapon so large it would dwarf most capital ships, constructed from pure energy given temporary physical form.
For just a moment, the cannon's muzzle glowed with building power. Energy readings spiked to apocalyptic levels as the weapon charged.
Then it fired.
Jim watched in horror as Kerrigan—now a full Xel'Naga, radiating cosmic power—was being systematically overwhelmed by Amon's assault. The dark god was simply stronger, more experienced, more ruthless.
Kerrigan had only recently ascended to Xel'Naga status. She was still learning her new capabilities, still adjusting to power that could reshape reality. Amon had millennia of experience, had slaughtered entire pantheons of beings like her.
The power differential was obvious and terrifying.
In desperation, Jim yanked one of Marcus's photon beacons from his belt and hurled it toward Amon with all his strength. The small sphere tumbled through the Void, landing near where the dark god was pressing his advantage against Kerrigan.
Almost immediately, both combatants stopped fighting.
Kerrigan released her full power in a burst of protective energy, grabbing Jim and the nearby forces and fleeing at speeds that defied physics. She didn't explain, didn't hesitate—just ran with every ounce of speed she possessed.
Amon, for his part, abandoned all dignity and tactical positioning. The ancient dark god turned and fled in the opposite direction, moving faster than he'd moved during the entire battle.
Both Xel'Naga had felt it—the approaching presence of something that meant absolute death. A power so overwhelming that even cosmic entities recognized it as an existential threat.
The moment Kerrigan cleared the danger zone with Jim and his forces, a beam of light descended from impossible angles.
The photon bombardment struck with the force of a stellar detonation. Reality itself screamed as the attack tore through dimensional barriers, converting everything in its path to pure energy.
The area where Amon had been fighting simply ceased to exist. The dark god who had terrorized civilizations, who had slaughtered pantheons, who had threatened to destroy the cycle of creation itself—he was annihilated instantly. Not defeated, not wounded. Erased.
One moment Amon existed. The next moment, there was only dissipating light where he'd been.
"Oh my God..." Tychus breathed, staring at the impossible destruction. "This is..."
The cigar fell from his slack lips, forgotten in his shock. Everyone who witnessed the strike stood frozen, trying to process what they'd just seen.
That was the power Marcus had casually given them. A weapon that could delete a dark god from existence as an afterthought.
What the hell was Marcus?
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