Chapter 53: Hotheaded Showdown!

"Hey! You're freaking boiling! I almost turned into a damn rotisserie chicken!"

Garfield’s psychic shout rang with genuine panic inside Groudon’s mind, prompting the colossal beast to reel in its sweltering aura. The magma pooling at its feet began to cool and darken, the ambient temperature dropping from "inferno" to merely "unbearable."

But Groudon was still dangerously hot—radiating a deep, telluric heat that felt hotter than anything from beneath the Earth's crust. Standing nearby was like being roasted alive.

"Rooaaar!—Rrrrgh." The thought that accompanied the low rumble was one of frustration. (I require a translator. Garfield, assist me!)

The behemoth lumbered forward, each step sending tremors through the shattered asphalt. Garfield, still in his parrot form, flapped backward frantically.

"Hell no, you walking furnace! You get any closer and I’ll be charcoal fluff!"

Even at a distance of thirty feet, the edges of Garfield’s feathers were singed and curling from the heat. He wasn't about to test his magma-swimming skills today.

"Rrrgh, roar!" Groudon insisted, projecting another command. (Fine. Then you will be my voice. Go. Threaten the Kryptonians. Tell them if they do not withdraw, they will be incinerated where they stand.)

Garfield blinked. "Are you serious? You think you're strong enough in this form to make a threat like that? Provoking them could get you killed, you know."

Groudon’s reply was a wave of pure, primal arrogance. "RRAAAH!" (I am a powerhouse! They should fear me!)

"Alright, fine," Garfield relented with a psychic sigh. "But don't come crying to me when you get your ass handed to you."

He gave his singed feathers a shake, and new ones grew in instantly. With a powerful flap, he launched into the air, gliding toward the Kryptonian soldiers who were still observing the standoff.

"Hey, Kryptonians! Get the hell off our planet!" Garfield's mocking squawk cut through the tension. "Or my boss is gonna stomp you into space junk and kick your shiny metal asses all the way to Pluto!"

General Zod turned, his expression of grim determination shifting to one of mild confusion as he looked at Superman. "Yours?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that your pet? It may be defective."

Superman ignored him, his attention fixed on the bizarre parrot. "You don't need to get involved!" he called out. "I can handle this. It’s too dangerous here—get out!"

But Fiora-Ul was not feeling merciful. She cut Superman's warning short with a fist to the jaw, the impact echoing like a thunderclap.

"Distracted in the heat of battle, Kal-El?" she chided. "Foolish."

Garfield merely shrugged off Superman's concern. He flew closer to Zod, his taunts resuming with relish.

"Go crawl back to whatever broken rock you came from, Kryptonians! Earth is closed. I'm being generous right now, but if you keep pushing, we'll scrape you off this planet by force. Don't say you weren't warned."

Zod’s expression turned glacial. Insulting him was one thing. Insulting Krypton? That was unforgivable. To him, and to every soldier under his command, Krypton was a sacred memory, and its revival was their only purpose.

His eyes narrowed to slits. "Kill it. Krypton does not tolerate slander."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Three sonic booms ripped through the air as a trio of Kryptonian soldiers lunged at Garfield, their movements a blur of lethal intent.

CLANG! WHAM! CRUNCH!

And just as quickly, three armored bodies were sent hurtling backward, punched clean out of the air. Where a parrot had been moments before, there was now a creature with two grotesquely muscular, humanoid arms. In a stunning transformation, Garfield’s wings had melted away, sinew and muscle twisting into biceps thick with raw power.

Zod was visibly stunned. In all his years of conquest across countless galaxies, he had never witnessed a creature like this—a self-evolving shapeshifter capable of repelling Kryptonian armor with brute force.

"What in Rao's name is that monster...?" he muttered.

"Pathetic!" Garfield roared, his voice now a deep baritone. "There's no strength in your punches! You call yourselves Kryptonians? You should be ashamed!"

Off to the side, Superman winced as he recovered. "Okay... that was just offensive."

As if on cue, Groudon lumbered closer, its every footstep melting the concrete into pools of bubbling lava.

Zod had seen enough.

"All troops, full assault!" he commanded. "Kill them both!"

Twenty armored Kryptonian warriors raised their plasma rifles in unison and opened fire. A synchronized storm of energy lit up the battlefield. Garfield, reverting to a sleek, cat-like form, became a flicker of motion, weaving through the lattice of searing beams with impossible agility.

Groudon, however, did not dodge. It didn't need to. The energy blasts slammed into its crimson, plate-like armor and sizzled into nothing, like raindrops on a hot skillet.

Then, its golden eyes began to glow.

The ground began to tremble—not just from its immense weight, but from something deeper, more elemental. This was no mere earthquake.

This was [Precipice Blades].

With a deafening roar, massive spikes of razor-sharp rock erupted from the earth. The sheer kinetic force of the attack threw Zod's soldiers into the air like toys, their advanced armor cracking and shattering under the onslaught. Fiora watched in horror as her comrades crumpled. She immediately rushed to the General's side, her suit's internal systems screaming with warnings. The kinetic feedback and energy jamming from the geological assault caused their helmet displays to glitch wildly, filling their vision with static and ghost images.

Her rage exploded. Ignoring the system failures, she locked her eyes on Groudon and charged. She unleashed everything she had—her full speed, her full strength—an unstoppable force meeting an immovable beast. But Groudon was unmoved. Her strikes, each powerful enough to level a building, were absorbed by its ancient armor without so much as a tremor.

Then Zod, finally adjusting to Earth's atmosphere, joined the fray. His power surged, his movements becoming faster, his blows heavier. One of his punches finally connected with enough force to push the titanic creature back a single step.

Enraged, the red titan retaliated, a searing claw swipe meeting Zod's fist mid-air. The resulting shockwave was an even match.

"RRAAAH!!"

Impossible, Groudon's ancient mind thought, a flicker of surprise in its primal consciousness. Why is this one getting stronger so quickly? It scanned its internal library of abilities. Lacking any fine-tuned control options, it settled for overwhelming area-of-effect. It was time for a spectacle.

[Overheat Flame Rune]!

A colossal rune, blazing with the intensity of a star, erupted from Groudon's mouth. It exploded on contact, blasting both Zod and Fiora away. They hit the ground hard, their armor now visibly fractured and smoking.

Groudon didn't follow up. The blast had done its job. It turned its massive head toward Superman and Garfield, letting out a guttural, accusatory roar.

"RRAAAAARRRGH!!" (You two just stood there and watched?!)

Garfield gave the beast a deadpan look. "Dude, you were a walking furnace. I'm not suicidal."

Superman, for his part, hadn't intervened because it looked like Groudon had everything completely under control. As he landed beside the behemoth, he felt a strange sensation… he felt stronger. The creature's proximity was like standing next to a second, terrestrial sun, supercharging his own cells. He also noticed Zod was displaying the same symptoms he had when his powers first manifested—dizziness, sensory overload, double vision.

Meanwhile, Garfield darted off toward the fallen Kryptonian soldiers. They were still a threat. If they awakened their own powers in this chaotic state, the destruction would be unimaginable. He shed a cloud of minuscule organisms from his body—biological mimics born from his ultimate lifeform cells. While the Kryptonians writhed in agony, the tiny parasites slipped into their bodies through the cracks in their armor and began to feed—a horrifying, silent invasion from within.

The battlefield had split. It was Groudon and Superman versus Zod and Fiora, while Garfield handled the gruesome clean-up.

Zod’s eyes began to glow an unstable, crackling red. His vision blurred as raw power surged through him. Then, without warning—

BOOM!

Twin beams of intense heat erupted from his eyes, lashing out at the biggest threat: Groudon. The monster barely flinched as its crimson armor absorbed the assault. Zod blinked, and the heat vision vanished. He was gaining control. Next, his X-ray vision flickered on, and he saw it—the bones and muscles in his own hands, shifting and reinforcing themselves at a cellular level.

"Hah..." he breathed, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. "So, Kal-El... it wasn't your father's science that granted you this power." He ripped off his helmet, inhaling Earth's atmosphere for the first time. He grimaced in disgust. "It's this planet. This sun. This entire world is a gift." His eyes scanned the horizon. "A filthy, primitive gift. We will have to burn it clean and begin anew."

"Zod, stop!" Superman pleaded, stepping forward. "I can help you. We can find a new home for your people, right here on Earth. There's no need for any of this."

To Zod, the offer was the ultimate insult.

"Give up Krypton?" he snarled, his voice trembling with righteous fury. "You ask me to abandon my destiny, to let my people's legacy die, so that I can live amongst... this?"

Superman's plea had only stoked the flames of his fanaticism. This was never about mere survival. It was about resurrection.

Fueled by a sudden, terrifying surge of power, Zod turned away from Superman and launched himself straight at Groudon.

He threw a punch meant to shatter mountains.