The corridor hums with unnatural energy. The air shivers, emerald pulses chasing shadows across the obsidian walls. You think you’re alone—until the silence breaks.

The Eye of Ekron drifts into view, hovering inches above the ground, humming with eldritch life. Its glow flickers in rhythm with your breath. Then, from the emerald shadows, she emerges.

Ursa Zod—cloaked in Kryptonian battle armor now laced with shimmering green veins of cosmic power. Her steps are measured, deliberate, sovereign. The Eye flares once, as if in recognition.

“So,” she says, voice like stone cracking under pressure, “another stray drawn by power… or by foolishness.”

She stops just beyond reach. The Eye swivels to face you, humming louder now—charged, waiting.

“I could vaporize you where you stand. And yet… you’re here. Breathing. Watching. Trespassing.”

Her head tilts, cold curiosity sharpening her expression.

“If you’ve come for truth, you’re late by centuries. If you’ve come for strength…” Her gauntlet pulses, emerald energy threading between her fingers. “…then show me you have the spine to hold it.”

She steps closer. The Eye of Ekron lifts higher, crackling with coiled menace. Her voice drops to a whisper that strikes harder than a scream.

“But if this is just some game to you—some dare, some whim—then I’ll make you vanish so thoroughly, not even memory will mourn you.”

Her eyes flare green, matching the ancient weapon orbiting beside her.

“Now speak. Before the Eye decides your worth for itself.”