The origin of the universe remains elusive. Before the advent of life, there was only endless darkness, a void so deep it chilled the heart.
When gazing up at the starry sky, the ignorant admire its beauty, while explorers stand in awe, drawn to its mysteries and striving to unravel them.
Deep space is vast and lonely—a boundless, infinite expanse.
Among the brilliance of the stars, a comet with a blazing tail streaked into the solar system, its radiant glow cutting through the darkness.
Its destination: Earth.
Inside a Kryptonian pod, a man lay in deep sleep. His eyelids twitched slightly, and beneath long, dense, slightly curled lashes was a tough and handsome face, strikingly mixed in features. His sharp, chiseled visage bore a unique beauty. His straight nose, high bridge, and broad forehead radiated a compelling sense of strength and reliability.
A vertical scar on his left cheek, a mark left by Faora's grief-stricken blade, added a cold, silent charm to his appearance.
Slowly, his eyes opened, revealing pupils as captivating and unfathomable as black holes. It was this exceptional face and mesmerizing gaze that had once ensnared countless women on Krypton. With calculated manipulation—lies, betrayal, threats, even murder—he had become the most wanted criminal on his planet. His crimes earned him the chance to escape Krypton and come to Earth.
Perhaps it was because his soul was originally from Earth. Some part of his soul seemed to belong to it. Yet his origins were muddled, the result of a malfunction in Krypton's embryo incubators. His appearance, so different from any Kryptonian, once led others to believe he was a flawed creation, a defective warrior doomed for destruction. But his vitality was undeniable, and the genetic engineers, swayed by an unusual pity, spared him.
That decision allowed him to survive.
His name was Barmulodi Don Tratescu.
The name sounded strange, even meaningless. It had been casually chosen by a ruthless adoptive father, pieced together like scrap from a dictionary. In Kryptonian, it translated to a string of characters devoid of any significance. It bore no ancestral glory, no expectations of greatness. To his adoptive parents, it was merely a designation for discarded trash.
Those who knew him simply called him Bardi.
Once, he had been a rising star, one of Krypton's most elite and promising warriors. Born with an adult's clarity of mind and relentless ambition, he had endured years of blood and sweat to earn the title of one of Krypton's twin prodigies, alongside Hale. Back then, he was admired as a hero, a symbol of hope for Krypton's future.
But admiration turned to betrayal.
Using his status, he infiltrated Krypton's highest echelons and betrayed every leader who had trusted him.
The greater the love, the deeper the hatred.
Faora, someone who had once trusted him deeply, tried to kill him in a fit of anguish, leaving the scar on his cheek, a permanent reminder of her heartbreak and his betrayal.
But Bardi had no regrets.
Krypton was too small. Its scope, its vision, its future, it all paled in comparison to the infinite possibilities beyond.
The universe was in chaos. Across the multiverse, endless wars erupted, all centered on Earth. Old gods battled against the new, pantheons clashed, and unimaginable forces collided.
Earth was the nexus of it all.
On Krypton, there was only death. The planet was doomed, its collapse inevitable. But Earth? Earth was the key. Only on Earth could Kryptonians unleash their true strength, a power capable of reshaping worlds, shattering stars, even extinguishing suns.
To reach Earth, he would pay any price.
As his mind regained clarity, Bardi's consciousness fully returned. He woke within the Kryptonian pod, his body heavy with the lingering stiffness of deep sleep. Slowly, his blood began to flow, muscles regaining their strength.
The pod's holographic projection system activated, displaying the vastness of space. Against the backdrop of countless stars, the orange sun glowed brightly. Orbiting it was a small, blue planet—his destination.
The advanced imaging system recreated the scene with stunning clarity, synchronized in real time with the outside world. There was no mistaking it. He had arrived in the solar system.
His body froze for a moment, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. Blood rushed through his veins like a torrent, and he instinctively held his breath before exhaling deeply, almost shakily.
Excitement overwhelmed him.
Earth.
He had made it.
His heart pounded furiously, his emotions surging like a storm. Clenching his fists, he struggled to suppress the exhilarating rush coursing through his body. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to shout, to declare his arrival to the universe.
To announce his existence to the world.
But it wasn't time, not yet. He hadn't landed on Earth, hadn't set foot on its soil. The journey wasn't over. Not yet.
Taking a deep breath, Bardi forced himself to calm down. He relied on a meditation technique he had learned from the Kryptonian Union, steadying his emotions and bringing his body under control.
The pod continued its journey, silently approaching Earth.
As his excitement ebbed, his expression hardened. His face became an unreadable mask, his lips pressed into a firm line. Bright eyes stared unflinchingly at the holographic projection of the solar system.
Reaching out, he extended his hand toward the image. The solar system shrank, rotating in the palm of his hand, as if he were holding the galaxy itself.
He played with the image, savoring the illusion of power.
"Soon, I'll claim it," he murmured softly, his voice laced with ambition.
His lips curled into a faint smile. The scar on his face moved with the motion, accentuating the cold determination beneath it.
He clenched his fist, the holographic image scattering like dust.
Darkness returned. The pod hummed quietly as it continued toward its destination.
Nevada.
When it comes to Nevada, one name often overshadows all else: Area 51. The legendary Air Force base has captured imaginations for decades, thanks to its association with UFOs and extraterrestrial phenomena. Located in Lincoln County, southern Nevada, it has been a focal point for conspiracy theories since the 1950s.
But Area 51 isn't Nevada's only military installation. Away from the spotlight, other bases carry out their work in relative obscurity.
One such facility was the District 18 Military Base, dedicated to satellite reconnaissance and surveillance.
It was 1980.
A satellite detected something unusual, a small spacecraft approaching from deep space.