Chapter 8: The Final Hours
69 Hours, 1 Hour Until Krypton's Destruction…
The screen flickered. A single, piercing beep echoed through Damian's dimly lit chamber, cutting through the tense silence.
[Data Transfer in Progress…]
His breath hitched. He blinked rapidly, bloodshot eyes scanning the console with an almost manic intensity. It was finally happening.
The Codex data was being transferred.
Jor-El had made his move. Damian had been watching, waiting, lurking like a predator in the shadows, siphoning the precious information for himself. This was the culmination of three days of sleepless paranoia, of standing vigil over the console like a vulture circling a carcass.
A thin progress bar crawled forward. 1%... 2%... Next to it, a digital timestamp blinked.
[Estimated Completion Time: 50 minutes.]
Too slow.
His jaw tightened. That left him with less than ten minutes to escape after the transfer finished. Not just to flee, but to be beyond Krypton's gravitational influence, past the radius of its inevitable destruction—whether that meant the concussive force of the explosion or the cascading debris of a dying world.
His heart pounded. This was cutting it too close.
He exhaled sharply, pacing. His hands raked through his unkempt hair. Everything was planned down to the second—but this…
This was dangerously last-minute.
He threw a glare at the screen. "Fuck you, Jor-El. Why is it always at the last minute for Superman's departure?"
His voice was hoarse—a mix of frustration and exhaustion. He turned sharply to his ship's interface, pulling up the diagnostics.
Fuel reserves: Optimal.
Ignition protocols: Green.
Stealth systems: Online.
His exit strategy was still viable—but there was zero room for error.
A flashing notification suddenly appeared on his screen.
[Security Alert: Unauthorized Proximity Detected.]
Damian's head snapped toward the warning, his pulse spiking. His fingers flew across the console, pulling up the external feed.
A grainy holo-footage flickered to life.
A lone figure approached the hangar—hesitant, yet determined.
His mother.
Lysara was descending the steps, her robes disheveled, movements tense. Even through the low-resolution display, he could see the fear etched into her face.
Damn it.
He had anticipated chaos—Krypton's final death throes—but he hadn't accounted for this.
His mother, frightened. Searching for him.
The seismic tremors had worsened over the past hour. Kryptonians weren't fools. They could feel the ground beneath them betraying its stability, the once-great capital trembling as if it, too, feared the end.
Lysara must have woken to the violent shaking, seeking comfort—only to realize her son was missing.
Damian sighed. He couldn't let her interfere.
As he stepped out of the hangar, he spotted her just a few feet away. Her sad, beautiful blue eyes locked onto his.
Relief flashed across her face. "Damian!" she breathed, quickening her steps.
He let the garage door slowly descend behind him, ensuring she wouldn't see inside. "Mother," he greeted, voice carefully composed. "How are you?"
She exhaled sharply. "I—" Her voice faltered as another tremor rumbled through the ground beneath them. She steadied herself, placing a hand on his arm.
"Everything is… falling apart. The sky looks wrong, the tremors—they won't stop. And I—" her voice wavered, "I couldn't find you."
"I was working," Damian said smoothly.
She studied him, eyes narrowing. "Working? Now? At a time like this?"
Damian gave a casual shrug, though his mind was racing. He needed to steer her away.
"I had to make sure our systems were stable," he said, tone effortlessly even. "Backup generators, shields—"
Lysara shook her head, her expression shifting from worry to suspicion.
"In the hangar?"
Shit.
Before he could respond, she stepped past him.
Her fingers brushed the control panel just as the garage door was about to seal completely.
His stomach dropped.
Well, fuck.
She was moments away from seeing everything. The ship. The stolen data. The plan.
Damian moved.
With precise efficiency, he stepped behind her, wrapping an arm around her throat in a tight rear naked choke.
She gasped, struggling instinctively—but she was no warrior.
Within seconds, her body sagged. Unconscious.
He adjusted his hold, lowering her carefully to the ground. His jaw clenched as he glanced around. No witnesses.
Exhaling, he scooped her up and carried her back inside the hangar.
His gaze flicked to the console.
[38% complete. 32 minutes remaining.]
Damian ran a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling sharply. "Damn it, Mother."
[99%... 100%]
The console flashed its completion message.
"Yes!"
Without hesitation, Damian yanked the key-like drive from the console and inserted it into his ship's command module.
The sleek pod-ship was primed—single-seat, dual plasma cannons, stealth systems, and built-in stasis modules for Codex encoding.
He was ready.
Less than 10 minutes before Krypton's explosion.
The rotating platform lowered his ship into launch position. Damian strapped himself in, fingers flying over the controls.
"Alpha."
"Yes, sir?"
"Status on Krypton's blast radius?"
"You have approximately 9 minutes to reach a safe distance."
As Alpha finished speaking, a warning klaxon blared.
[Security Breach: High Council Forces Detected.]
The hangar doors slid open.
A squad of armed Kryptonian police stormed inside.
Shit.
Plasma rifles raised the moment they spotted him.
"Do not attempt to leave—"
Damian smirked, flipping a switch. "You're all going to die anyway. Why not go early?"
He fired.
Explosions erupted. The hangar shook as flames and debris consumed the incoming guards.
[Mission Quest: Escape Krypton by Any Means]
• Time Remaining: 7 minutes
• Reward: 1x Traversal Ticket, 3x Lottery Tickets
"Fuck, we might not make it in time."
"Sir," Alpha interjected, "the hangar roof doors appear to be jammed."
"Can we just blast them open?"
"Sir, yes, but refractile damage could-"
Damian cursed, unstrapping himself. "I'll do it myself."
Scaling the unstable walls was hell. Tremors made it nearly impossible to balance.
He glanced down—Krypton was breaking apart. Molten fissures split the streets, towers collapsed, and the sky burned.
He reached the roof doors. A 500lb metal alloy slab.
It wouldn't budge.
His muscles screamed in protest. Blood trickled down his fingers.
"I am not dying because of a stupid fucking door—"
With a raw, primal roar, he forced it open.
3 minutes left.
He leapt back into his pod.
"Alpha! Launch!"
Engines ignited.
3… 2… 1…
From the sky, two pods shot through Krypton's burning atmosphere.
One held Kal-El—Earth's future Superman.
The other? A rogue, determined Kryptonian with his own fate to carve.
As alarms blared, shields barely holding, Damian exhaled. "Alpha… will we make it?"
"Yes, sir. But we may sustain shielding and engine damage."
Damian sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Good enough."
Damian slumped back. "Alpha begin the Codex of Life gene encoding… and set course for the nearest yellow star."
His vision blurred. As exhaustion overtook him, he let go.
He had survived. But the real journey had just begun.