Screams tore through the air.
Fear. Helplessness. Regret. Every raw, human emotion surfaced at once as people watched the impossible unfold.
The floating landmass was falling.
With the force sustaining it gone, gravity took over without mercy. The massive continent dropped, accelerating faster and faster, dragging everything on it toward annihilation.
People staggered, clutching at anything they could find. The ground beneath their feet trembled violently, like a plane in catastrophic descent. The sensation hit a second later—
Weightlessness.
It felt like a free-falling elevator with no brakes.
Some collapsed. Others screamed until their voices broke. Everyone understood, on some instinctive level, what came next.
Impact.
And then—
It didn't happen.
The descent slowed. Not gradually, but abruptly, as if the entire continent had slammed into something unseen.
No one was crushed. No one was torn apart.
Instead, an invisible force wrapped around them, absorbing the catastrophic energy that should have reduced everything to dust.
Beneath the falling landmass, Noah Vale stood with one arm raised.
He held it.
An entire continent, balanced effortlessly in his palm like it weighed no more than a book. The destructive force of its fall dispersed around him, neutralized by something intangible yet absolute.
Then he moved.
With a single hand supporting the landmass, Noah shot upward.
The acceleration was instant.
Within seconds, he broke through the atmosphere, dragging the continent with him at speeds that blurred the line between physics and absurdity. The sky tore open as he surged into space, the massive chunk of Earth trailing behind him like a weapon.
From orbit, astronauts caught a glimpse of something they would never forget.
A landmass.
Flying.
And ahead of it—
A figure.
Small as a speck. Vast as a god.
Satellites adjusted, cameras zooming in. Humanity watched, stunned, as Noah carried a continent into orbit like it was part of his arsenal.
Inside the Kryptonian fleet, General Zod stared at the incoming mass.
"…He's bringing a continent to a fight," he muttered.
There was a tremor in his voice he didn't notice.
Because for the first time—
He felt fear.
The sheer absurdity of it, the casual display of strength, shattered any illusion of control. This wasn't a battle. It was a demonstration.
Noah's voice reached the fleet, carried through the vacuum by vibrations that shouldn't have existed.
"You're free to try anything," he said calmly. "Even if I'm holding up half the planet, you still won't be able to touch me."
Zod's expression hardened.
"Fire. Full power."
No hesitation now.
The fleet responded instantly. At the rear of the flagship, light gathered, condensing into a blinding point. Energy built, dense enough to punch through anything in its path.
But they were too slow.
Noah was already there.
He shifted his grip on the continent.
Then swung.
The world tilted.
People screamed again as the landmass moved, inertia slamming into them like a tidal wave. For a split second, everything went weightless.
Then came the acceleration.
The continent tore through space at impossible speed, hundreds of times faster than sound, its structure held together by Noah's will alone.
And then—
Impact.
The flagship didn't stand a chance.
It crumpled like it had been struck by something far beyond its ability to withstand. The outer hull shattered instantly, layers of advanced alien alloy collapsing under the force.
Inside, Zod didn't even have time to react.
The collision hit him like a mountain moving at terminal velocity. His armor fractured, then broke apart completely under the pressure.
The fleet followed.
Warships, fighters, armor—everything was crushed in an instant, reduced to debris by the sheer, overwhelming force.
And yet—
No one died.
The Kryptonians survived.
Barely.
They were slammed against the surface of the continent, stripped of their armor, their bodies pinned under the residual force like insects caught in a storm. Bruised. Disoriented. Humiliated.
Exactly as intended.
It wasn't destruction.
It was a warning.
Zod pushed himself up, fury flashing in his eyes, but it didn't last long.
Without their armor, the environment hit them all at once.
Earth's atmosphere.
The radiation of its yellow sun.
Pain flooded their bodies, sharp and overwhelming. Muscles tightened. Nerves screamed. They doubled over, trembling uncontrollably as something inside them began to change.
Then—
Strength.
It surged through them, raw and unfamiliar.
Zod's breathing steadied as realization dawned.
"So it's true…" he murmured. "Our bodies… they adapt to this star."
Ancient Kryptonian records hadn't been exaggerating.
Under a yellow sun, they were something else entirely.
Something stronger.
He straightened, energy coursing through him, and looked up—
Only to freeze.
The sky had changed.
Back on the continent, Noah had already returned to Gavin's side.
He glanced upward, studying the alignment above them.
"Timing's a little off," he said, almost to himself. "But the position works."
From his vantage point, the sun and the moon shared the sky, balanced on opposite ends of the horizon.
Perfect.
Noah raised his left hand.
Resting in his palm was a single, strange eye—violet, layered, unnatural.
He turned it toward the moon.
His right hand moved, fingers forming precise, deliberate motions as he synchronized something far larger than himself.
Seconds passed.
Then the moon changed.
From Earth, people watched in stunned silence as its pale surface darkened… then bled into a deep, unnatural red.
Patterns spread across it.
Black rings. Curving shapes. A design that felt wrong to look at, yet impossible to ignore.
The moon had become an eye.
Watching.
"What… is that?" someone whispered.
No one had an answer.
Even the newly empowered Kryptonians paused, staring upward.
"That's not normal," Zod muttered.
Then the light came.
A brilliant flash erupted from the moon, turning it into a second sun. The glow spilled across space, racing toward Earth at impossible speed.
It touched the surface in an instant.
Light flooded everything.
Cities. Oceans. Buildings. Shadows.
No one could escape it.
For a brief moment, patterns flickered across people's eyes—faint, intricate, almost like reflections of something deeper.
Then, just as quickly—
It vanished.
The moon returned to normal.
The sky calmed.
And the world was left in silence.
"…What just happened?" someone asked.
No one knew.
They could feel it, though. A lingering unease, like something fundamental had shifted just out of sight.
Above it all, Noah exhaled softly.
A faint smile crossed his face.
"Done."