Few pnets in the vast universe could rival the technological marvels of Krypton. Its gleaming cities and intricate energy networks were the pinnacle of progress, a beacon for civilizations across the twenty-eight known gaxies. Kryptonians had mastered sciences that others could only dream of, their advancements light years ahead of their peers.

  This was a world that soared above the rest, a race that seemed to defy the limitations of time itself. Yet, even in its brilliance, Krypton was not immune to decay.

  The past several generations had revealed troubling signs—strains in their society, whispers of weakness. For a pnet that prided itself on perfection, such fws were unthinkable, a threat to its very survival.

  The legacy of Krypton hung in a delicate bance. Would its name endure, or would it fade into the cosmic void, forgotten by all?

  Dru-Zod hailed from one of Krypton’s proudest families, a lineage of military titans whose victories shaped the pnet’s history. When a Zod led an army, triumph was all but certain, and enemies quaked at the mere mention of their name.

  This Zod, bearing the revered title of General, considered himself the greatest to ever hold it. His campaigns were legendary, crushing both pnetary threats and external foes with ruthless efficiency. One truth united all who faced him: all would kneel before Zod.

  Despite his storied career, a personal void gnawed at Zod’s heart. He had no son to carry his name, no heir to cement his legacy. Middle-aged and acutely aware of his mortality, the Kryptonian general felt desperation simmering within him.

  Nothing sted forever, not even a man as formidable as Zod. He needed a son, and he would stop at nothing to secure one.

  His first attempt at fatherhood had been a moment of pure joy. The birth of his son was the happiest day of his life, a fleeting glimpse of a future he longed for.

  But fate was cruel. The destruction of Kandor cimed his first wife and infant son, leaving Zod’s world in ruins. The pain twisted his gut, a wound that never fully healed.

  For years, Zod buried his grief in duty. He led the Kandorian army with unrelenting focus, training recruits and waging campaigns that left his enemies in ruins. A faint smile would cross his face as he recalled the victories, the bodies of his foes scattered in his wake.

  Yet, the emptiness remained, a silent reminder of what he had lost and what he still needed to achieve.

  Zod’s second wife, Ursa, gave him a daughter, Faora, named after a lover taken by a terrorist’s bomb. The loss of his first love had fueled months of relentless pursuit, until Zod tracked down the killer.

  He made the murderer suffer, drawing out his agony until pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. Zod granted no reprieve, ensuring the man’s death was as brutal as his crime.

  Faora was a tribute to that lost love, a fierce and loyal daughter devoted to her father’s cause. But her birth came at a steep cost—Ursa’s reproductive organs were damaged, leaving her unable to bear another child.

  The news struck Zod like a blow, but it also ignited a new resolve. If nature denied him a son, he would forge one through his own will.

  Zod devised a daring pn to create the perfect vessel for his heir, a scheme that consumed eight years of his life. It began the moment he learned of Ursa’s condition, a slow and meticulous process driven by his obsession with perfection.

  Kryptonian births, when natural, produced powerful offspring, but they carried risks. Zod would not leave his legacy to chance; he would craft it with precision.

  His first prototype was a failure, a lifeless shell that mocked his efforts. The second was a savage, feral creature—a destroyer too wild to control. Zod kept it in reserve, uncertain of its use but unwilling to discard a potential weapon.

  One never knew when such a beast might serve a purpose, and Zod was nothing if not pragmatic.

  As humans often said, the third time was the charm. In Zod’s hands, a glowing purple crystal pulsed with promise. It held his genetic code, his legacy, a beacon that would outlive Krypton’s inevitable demise.

  This crystal would ensure the House of Zod thrived on a new world, far from the dying vine of its home pnet.

  Reports of Krypton’s unstable core had not escaped Zod’s notice. He studied them closely, concluding that his pnet was doomed. Most of its people, weak and ignorant, were unworthy of salvation.

  Zod felt no obligation to save them. Their fate was a punishment for their failures, but his bloodline would endure.

  The crystal would be sent to Earth, hidden in a strategic location. It would wait for someone worthy—someone with the strength and will to bear Zod’s essence. When touched, it would inject them with his DNA, transforming their body into the perfect vessel.

  Zod, no scientist, had pored over Jor-El’s notes to ensure its success. He trusted his instincts, honed by years of command, to see it through.

  Ursa, meanwhile, devoted herself to raising Faora, shaping her into the ideal companion for their future son. A prophecy spoke of a new Krypton rising from the ashes, led by two figures.

  Zod had no doubt who those leaders would be. His children, born of his vision, would forge a new empire.

  Zod cradled the crystal, its faint thrum a testament to years of bor. It was the culmination of his ambition, a vessel for his immortality.

  “Is it ready?” Ursa’s voice broke the silence, her tone ced with anticipation.

  Zod turned, a dangerous smile curling his lips. It was a look that could make warriors tremble, a promise of unrelenting power. “It’s ready.”

  “Then our legacy will be complete,” Ursa said, her eyes gleaming with shared resolve.

  Zod said nothing, but his gaze burned with cold fury and unshakable determination. This project had begun as a rebuke to Jor-El, who had refused to clone his own dead son, citing dangerous side effects.

  Zod saw merit in Jor-El’s caution but dismissed it. His will would overcome any obstacle, and his legacy would not be denied.

  Years ago, as a failsafe, Zod, Jor-El, Alura, and Lara—then in their early twenties—had donated their blood to an orb, a genetic archive for Krypton’s future. That orb now rested with Jor-El, who guarded its location jealously.

  Zod cursed his colleague’s stubbornness. Had he known the orb’s whereabouts, he would have sent it with Faora to Earth, ensuring his pn’s completion.

  He approached the portal, its shimmering surface a gateway to Earth. A journey that would take three years by ship was reduced to minutes through this marvel of Kryptonian engineering.

  Zod stepped through, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he emerged in a network of underground caves, their walls etched with ancient symbols.

  With care, he pced the crystal into a carved slot in the stone. It glowed faintly, waiting for the one destined to cim it. The right person would know, would feel its call, and seize their fate.

  Zod’s work was done. He turned back to the portal, ready to return to Krypton, unconcerned with how long the crystal might wait—years, decades, or centuries.

  When Krypton fell, Faora would follow, joining her brother on Earth. His training would begin, and together, they would forge a new era.

  The House of Zod would never die, its name etched in the stars for eternity.

  Author’s Note: Welcome to the first chapter of this epic Harry Potter and DC Universe crossover!

  Let me know your thoughts, and stay tuned for the next chapter!