In a universe where hope never reached Earth, a god descended not as a savior—but as a harbinger of annihilation…

The sky cracked open like glass beneath a hammer. A burning comet streaked across the heavens, trailing fire and silence. Cities paused. Satellites scrambled. The world watched in awe and dread as the object, alien and deliberate, tore through the upper atmosphere, not falling—aiming.

It landed in the Nevada desert with a force that registered on every seismograph from Moscow to Melbourne. But there was no impact crater. No wreckage. Just a figure, standing tall in the smoke, untouched by heat or gravity. Cloaked in obsidian armor traced with crimson glyphs, his eyes glowed with a cold fury, and the House of El—warped and unholy—gleamed on his chest.

They called him Kal-El, but he did not come in peace.

On Krypton, he had been raised not by the wisdom of Jor-El or the compassion of Lara, but by the brutal rule of General Dru-Zod and the high council’s twisted vision of order. Trained from childhood to be the perfect instrument of planetary subjugation, Kal-El knew only strength, obedience, and conquest. Earth was not a sanctuary. It was a target—the next world to fall beneath the boots of Krypton’s lost empire.

But Earth was not defenseless.

Before the dust could settle, the Justice League stood on the scorched earth, watching him with wary eyes. Wonder Woman’s blade shimmered with divine resolve. Batman, silent as shadow, ran simulations faster than fear could rise. Green Lantern’s ring pulsed with will. And beside them, scattered across hidden bunkers and underground tunnels, a human resistance prepared for war.

Ordinary people. Scientists. Soldiers. Survivors.

They had seen gods rise. They had watched them fall.

And now, they faced the one who was never supposed to come—the Kal-El who never learned compassion, who never knew Earth as home. A false god.

But perhaps… not beyond saving.