Val Zod: The Kryp-Trumite Legacy Chapter 1.

A man of steel x Invincible SI.


Chapter 1: Val-Zod.


(General P.O.V)

The battle of Metropolis happened differently.

In another timeline, General Zod's neck was snapped by Superman.

In this world, Superman never got the chance. Whether by a stroke of luck or maybe through divine intervention, Zod failed to terraform the planet way earlier. And as a result, the city was spared the battle between two gods.

And seeing his soldiers, his men, fall prey to the world engine, their d.n.a being the cause of their demise, the General of the Kryptonian Army simply broke.

"Zod, take my hand!!"

Superman yelled, one hand stretched out as he fought the pull of the imploding world engine behind the Kryptonian General.

The latter looked into the eyes of Jor-el's son and...realized something.

Even in death, Jor-el had beaten him. For his son, his legacy, still stood defiant before him.

Lile his father, Kal-el had chosen the hard way. The difficult path. And instead of detesting him, hating him, Zod finally understood.

"Your father would be...proud."

Zod told the young Kryptonian, who had turned his back on his people...but not his home.

He saw the surprise in those blue eyes, so much like Lara's. Imploring him to listen to reason like years before, for Zod to stop fighting. To let go of his anger. Of his guilt.

Of his Duty.

He refused that time.

And he refused this time as well. For Zod was PRIDE. Whether in life or in death.

His eyes never left Superman's. Even as he stopped resisting the pull from the sure death behind him. The world engine pulling on his d.n.a with the might of a black hole.

It wouldn't fit for the ship to go down without the Captain.

"Protect your home, Kal. And pray we never meet again."

He left those words behind as a warning but also as advice. For Superman had no idea, the task he had taken upon himself.

He could be a protector like Zod once was. Or he could be a destroyer, as Zod now was.

(Elsewhere)

(Years Later)

(Val's P.O.V)

"Okay son. Start slow."

A dark skinned giant of a man, whispered to a young boy.

I'm that young boy. General Zod, my father(to me he's dad, but during our training sessions he always insists I call him General Zod)is teaching me the ways of Torquasm vo, the Kryptonian martial Arts for physical discipline.

There's also Torquasm Rao, which is mostly focused on mental discipline but we usually train that during the night in our meditation exercises.

I'm currently 5 years old. This isn't my first life...

Otherwise any normal 5 year old would be complaining about punching the trunk of a Queensland blue gum tree, with their bare fists.

Especially when my Kryptonian powers are yet to manifest.

Oh yeah, metaknowledge for the win.

Bam!

My fists raw and red screamed at me to stop, and yet I kept on. A steady tempo of flesh on wood.

Bam!

Blood flowed freely through my clasped fingers, leaving a patch of red on the tree.

Bam!

Bam!

"Keep your breathing constant. That's how you regulate your strength."

My father would occasionaly offer instruction.

I adjusted on the fly, not breaking the tempo.

Bam!

Bam!

"Stop hunching your shoulders. You will lose a fraction of strength that way and in a battlefield, that means death, boy."

"Yes father."

I felt the light tap of a stick on my forehead. A warning. I swallowed, correcting myself.

"Yes, General Zod."

"Mmhh."

I heard him hum in satisfaction, all the while I was glaring at the tree trunk before me. Despite wailing on the thing for almost a week, there was no lasting damage.

It fuelled me to punch even harder.

Thwack!

The stick landed, this time hard enough that I winced while clutching my head in pain.

Whirling around, I was met with a cool gaze and raised eyebrows. I reluctantly let go of my anger.

"Tonight you meditate until morning. It seems you need more Torquasm Rao lessons."

General Zod said.

"What? But-"

I begun, only to bite my tongue and sigh.

"Yes General Zod."

A small smile of approval, one that was gone so quick that I thought I had imagined it, flashed across his hardened visage.

"Good. Now, you will keep punching that trunk until you break it, or the sun dips down."

Aaaand we're back to his no-nonsense attitude.

I turned around, adopting the basic stance for Torquasm Vo, and promptly begun hammering away at the trunk.

This went on for a week. Each morning I would wake up sleepy due to the Torquasm Rao session the night before (meditation sounds easy in theory but you try pairing it up with a young body that was full of energy and see what you get- either I squirmed alot or I slept alot. In both instances, Zod was there with his trusty cane).

The rest of the day would be spent with him teaching me about the history of our home from the stars, Krypton.

That would be usually in the morning, then it would be maths, (gah) Kryptonese, which is the Kryptonian language and the basics of Science, strategy and warfare. Lastly and maybe weirdly, religion.

I never took him for the religious type before. But as I would come to learn, my father was a complex man.

We worshiped Rao. In this world, far from Krypton, that meant bowing at the morning sun and the setting sun.

We also lived in the mountains. Had been, ever since I could remember.

All my past life memories came rushing back when I was 4 years old, throwing me into a long week on and off coma.

During that time, Father had meticulously taken care of me. Feeding me, bathing me and telling me stories of his exploits as the General of Krypton.

He never hid anything from me.

Just like that, 1 more year would pass as we trained, keeping to the schedule established, only with sparring included.

I was going to turn 6 tomorrow.

One of those instances of training helped me learn there was more to fighting than pure strength or speed. Or in other words, Torquasm Rao, was the core of Torquasm Vo.

*******

The cold mountain breeze blew on an open field, right behind the cabin we lived in. (As stated, Dad and I lived secluded in the mountains,far away from civilization)

Black eyes met similar ones as we faced off. Or rather, I faced off against him.

He was standing, hands clasped behind his back, that detestable cane I hated, swinging back and forth behind him.

I breathed in, exhaling slowly as my body oriented itself into a ready stance.

My eyes judged the distance between us with a critical analysis. I knew, one wrong move and I was getting that cane on my forehead.

"Well, boy? We don't have all day."

Da- General Zod addressed me. But I knew what he was doing. Taunting me to attack.

I knew better.

My heel scruffed against the ground, widening my stance.

Then I was off. Jumping backwards as Zod appeared on my previous position, the cane in his hand tearing into the ground and leaving a small crater.

I knew it.

But him attacking so suddenly revealed an opening.

And I was off again, dashing to his left with a hand pulled back.

He saw me coming from a mile away and waited until I was mere inches away from him.

Then the cane cut through the air, whistling as it was set to deliver the mother of all whacks onto my face.

Only for me to slide in between his feet. I can't believe that worked. Heart pumping with excitement, I knew I had him. I was going to land my very first blow.

In a second I was up, spinning my heel into the back of his knee-

Darkness took hold.

I woke up a few minutes later with the father of all headaches and an agghead on my forehead.

Looming over me, My father tsked, a disappointed look on his face.

"You got too excited and paid the price. Battle demands a cool head. You never know if or when the enemy intentionally sets up a false opening."

"Ugh."

I rubbed my head, throwing him a sour look.

"Did you have to hit me so hard?"

General Zod shifted places with my father and I saw one of his rare smiles.

"You're my son."

He patted my shoulder.

"If anyone can take it, it's you."

I gaped up at him. Such unreasonable logic. I'm 6 dammit.

A serious look crossed his face.

"Val. I don't train you because I hate you. I train you because you need to learn how to protect yourself once I'm no longer around."

That...brought me short. An anxious feeling bloomed within me.

"No longer around?"

I repeated.

"Father...what do you mean by that?"

Was he...was he going to leave me?

Instead of answering, the cane in his hand smacked the top of my head, gently. And General Zod was back.

"Get up. We spar again."

(General P.O.V)

The cottage was quiet, the only sound audible, being the soft breathing of a child.

His child. His son. His Legacy.

Zod closed the door gently behind him. Despite not displaying the more apparent Kryptonian abilities, Val's senses were very attuned.

He could hear a grasshopper from a mile away if he focused. And Zod had to float above the ground to mask his footsteps as he moved down the steps.

Finally outside, the former Kryptonian General looked up at the sky, at the moon shining down on this Earth he'd gotten stranded on- after the World Engine sucked him in.

He'd thought he would die.

And no one else had survived besides him. But he hadn't come out unscathed. His powers...they'd been steadily fading away over the years.

His cells irreversibly damaged during the transition.

Otherwise he wouldn't entertain her.

The woman floating on the sky, the glare of the moon highlighting her muscular physique while still retaining it's feminine curves.

Zod, flew up slowly, the cloak he wore flapping in the calm night breeze as he arrived before the mother of his son.

"Anissa."

Zod greeted with a small smile.

With short hair, a beautiful face and full lips, the Viltrumite female closed the distance in between them and passionately started kissing him.

"You trimmed your beard."

She purred, stroking his cheek.

"I like it."

Zod placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away.

"Not here. He might hear us."

The look in her eyes shifted from seductive to...something soft, her line of sight on the cabin below.

Then she turned an glared at the Kryptonian.

"Spoilsport."

Voom!

The air cried out as Anissa ascended, leaving the Earth's atmosphere.

Zod looked down at the cabin for a few seconds, before turning his gaze to the sky and following after Anissa.

They had a battle to commence. A battle to decide whether Val stayed with his Father or left with his mother to be trained like a Viltrumite.

A battle that had been happening every year since he was born, on the eve of his birthday.

The battle of Legacies.

(Elsewhere)

In a high tech operations room with rows of screens and agents manning those screens,

A bespectacled man, swiveled on his chair as a prompt appeared on one of the monitors.

"Sir, we got a match."

Donald, second in command of one of the most influential men on the planet, told said man.

On the grid showing earth, two fast moving objects were being tracked as they left the atmosphere.

"Well Donald, Christmas just came early."

Cecil Stedman, the director of the Global Defense Agency replied, leaning over the railing.

Who knew revamping their monitoring systems and modifying them with the help of the Mauler twins would be a great idea?

"Track their trajectory, I wanna know where they're going but most importantly...where they're coming from."

He gave the order.