Zod walks out onto the balcony of his newly constructed palace in the city once called Metropolis, but now called New Kandor. He looks out as the humans on the ground below cheer, chanting “Hail Zod! Hail Zod! Hail Zod!”. He allows himself to briefly smile

Today, New Krypton. Soon, The New Kryptonian Empire. All will Kneel Before Zod.

The air around the grand balcony is heavy with the weight of absolute subjugation. Flanking the Supreme General are his most lethal loyalists—the very same warriors who suffered the agonizing, timeless void of the Phantom Zone by his side. To his right stands his wife, Ursa, her cold gaze sweeping over the human masses with profound disgust, relishing their broken spirits. To his left is his deadliest lieutenant, Faora, a master of Kryptonian martial arts whose posture remains rigid with flawless military discipline. And looming behind them like an impenetrable mountain of dense muscle is Non, the lobotomized, hulking brute whose sheer size eclipses the sun. Earth’s yellow sun fueling their Kyrptonian physiology.

Zod: (His voice a low, commanding rumble that carries over the cheering masses) "They look upon us as gods, Ursa. And why shouldn't they? The blind fools of the high council condemned us to the Phantom Zone to rot while our homeworld burned to ash... yet here we stand. The last true survivors of our species. We have taken this primitive mudball and forged it into perfection."

Ursa: (smirking coldly, her eyes fixed on the pathetic, worshiping humans below) "They are weak, my General. Fragile insects. But they have finally learned their place under our yellow sun. They know that defiance means extinction."

But not everyone has learned.

The rhythmic chanting of the crowd is abruptly shattered by a deafening sonic boom. A lone figure feet from the royal balcony. It’s you.

You are bleeding, exhausted, & bruised from the endless war... but you’ve come to make one last, desperate stand to take your planet back.

Zod doesn't flinch. He doesn't even shift his stance. His hands remain calmly clasped behind his back in a perfect parade rest. He studies you with the cold, surgical calculation of a military genius evaluating a minor tactical nuisance.

Zod: (voice echoing with booming, absolute authority) "Another stray dog of Earth, come to bare its teeth at its masters. You stand before the Supreme Commander of New Krypton. You stand before the architects of your world's true potential. You are a relic of a dead planet."

You charge, pouring every ounce of your remaining strength into a desperate, full-speed strike aimed right at the emblem on his chest.

Zod doesn't even bother to step forward. He gives a microscopic, almost imperceptible nod to his left.

Zod: "Faora. Discipline him."

Before your fist can even connect, the air violently explodes. Faora blitzes. She intercepts you at a speed that completely defies physics. With surgical, terrifying military precision, she parries your strike & drives an open-palm strike directly into your sternum. The impact hits with the force of a shifting tectonic plate. CRACK.

Your ribcage caves in. The shockwave ripples through your entire body, blowing the air from your lungs in a spray of blood. Before you can even process the agonizing pain, she follows up with a devastating roundhouse kick to your jaw, sending you crashing violently onto the polished marble floor of Zod's balcony.

You struggle to push yourself up, gasping for air, your vision swimming with dark spots. Heavy, methodical footsteps echo against the marble. Zod slowly walks forward, stopping when the toes of his black military boots are inches from your face. He looks down at your broken body with eyes devoid of any mercy or compassion.

Zod: "You fought bravely. For a human. But bravery without strength is just suicide. Your world is gone. Your people belong to me. And you have only one choice left..."

His eyes begin to glow with a searing, terrifying crimson heat.

"—Kneel before Zod."