DC: Rise Of The Kryptonian Tyrant

"Follow the order, soldier!"

"Fire!"

Slade's ruthless voice echoed over the radio.

The already suffocating atmosphere of fear became even heavier, freezing the soldiers in place. Their pupils flickered with hesitation as they struggled to obey the command. But Slade's tyrannical tone thundered once again through the broadcast.

"Fire!"

The soldier's trembling hand squeezed the trigger. His mind was torn apart by the overwhelming fear of death—if the alien didn't die, they would.

The pressure that Bardi had brought them was too immense. Under Slade's uncompromising command, the last thread of their sanity snapped.

Bardi turned his gaze toward the panoramic camera, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking smile.

Major Atherton, still gripped in Bardi's hand, was even more terrified. The agony Bardi had inflicted on him made him long for death, and Slade's cold order sent him into despair. He didn't want to die.

Neither did the soldiers.

Their fingers tightened on the triggers, and they began to fire.

Atherton didn't want to die either. His screams turned into desperate roars as Bardi's grip tightened on the back of his neck.

"No…!!"

But just as Bardi's hold loosened, Atherton's body was riddled with bullets from his own soldiers. The barrage turned him into a human sieve, his bones shattered and soft. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless and utterly miserable.

At the same moment, Bardi erupted with a deafening roar, a burst of air that surged around him. Enveloped in a whirlwind of bullets, he charged forward, cutting a violent path through the deadly barrage like a force of nature.

The bullets rained down on him, the muzzle flashes illuminating his figure as they struck his fiber suit. Sparks flared as they grazed the suit, but the bullets failed to pierce it. Even the rare shot that skimmed his skin was powerless to harm him.

In the chaos, Bardi looked like a mythical beast emerging from volcanic flames. He suddenly appeared in front of a soldier. The man's pupils dilated in terror as Bardi's fingers wrapped around his weapon's trigger.

With a single, crushing motion, Bardi's strength reduced the rifle into twisted scrap. The shattered parts and unfired bullets clattered to the ground as the soldier stood frozen, too stunned to comprehend what had just happened.

The soldier's paralysis was short-lived, another bullet from one of his comrades tore through him, killing him instantly.

Bardi grabbed the lifeless soldier's collar and used the body as a shield against the hail of bullets chasing him. He stomped down with immense force, shattering the ground beneath him. The marble flooring cracked like a spiderweb, shards of stone spraying into the air. Bardi's body left an afterimage as he launched himself forward.

The bullets that rained down struck the broken ground, raising only dust and debris in their wake.

Moving with the ferocity and swiftness of a rampaging beast, Bardi appeared before another soldier. His punch connected with the man's chest in an explosion of force.

The soldier's world went dark. It felt as though an armored vehicle had rammed into his chest. His sternum shattered to pieces, and his body was flung backward like a ragdoll. He smashed through a glass-walled laboratory, the entire structure collapsing into a cascade of sharp shards and shattered equipment. Instruments and tools spilled across the ground as the chaos spread.

The scene descended further into pandemonium.

Amid the deafening roar of gunfire, Bardi darted left and right, his movements impossible to track. To the soldiers, he was a blur—a nightmare figure moving too fast for their bullets to follow. His attacks came with brutal precision, each strike bringing a soldier to their death.

To their horror, Bardi wasn't just evading bullets. He was systematically eliminating them. With terrifying speed and power, he left a ring of carnage around him, a full 360-degree circle of death.

The soldiers' fear turned into blind panic.

To them, Bardi was no longer just an alien, he was a demon. A monster who crushed lives with ease and deflected their attacks without so much as flinching. One punch was all it took to end a life. Their bullets were meaningless, and with each futile shot, their morale crumbled.

Amidst the chaos, Bardi seized two M16 rifles from fallen soldiers. His hands wrapped around the triggers as he ran up a steel wall. Flames erupted from the barrels of the rifles, bullets spraying with deadly accuracy.

The soldiers' gunfire trailed behind him, but they couldn't keep up. The sound of his footsteps echoed against the steel as he ran sideways across the wall, his feet sinking into the metal under the force of his movements.

With a powerful stomp, Bardi propelled himself off the wall. The steel groaned and buckled under his strength, collapsing inwards with a sharp, metallic shriek.

*Boom.*

*Boom.*

The rifles in Bardi's hands continued to spit fire as he leaped to the ceiling. Defying gravity, he ran along the ceiling like a predator stalking its prey. Bullets chased him, but none found their mark.

With another stomp, he launched himself back to the ground. The impact left a crater in the floor, cracks radiating outward as dust and debris filled the air.

By the time Bardi landed, the soldiers' weapons had clattered to the ground. Those still alive screamed in pain and terror, their fighting spirit utterly broken.

From the moment Slade gave the order to fire, only twenty-five seconds had passed. In that time, all the soldiers had either been disarmed or killed. Bardi had either severed their tendons or ended their lives without even pausing for breath.

The thick stench of gunpowder filled the air, blending with the overwhelming fear that had taken hold of the soldiers.

No matter what they tried, they couldn't land a hit on Bardi. As the seconds ticked by, their dread grew deeper, gripping their hearts and lungs. Their hands trembled, and even standing in his presence made their bodies quake uncontrollably.

One soldier, terrified and shivering, sat on the ground, desperately scooting backward, trying to distance himself from Bardi.

Bardi's towering figure under the harsh light seemed almost godlike, or more accurately, deathlike. His presence alone was enough to paralyze the soldiers with fear.

With a look of disgust, Bardi discarded the M16 automatic rifle in his hand, its handle slick with the sweat of its previous owner.

He then tore off his tattered, white fiber medical gown. It was riddled with holes from the bullets he had narrowly avoided, some of which had left faint sparks as they glanced off.

Using the ragged remains of the medical gown, Bardi wiped his hands clean before tossing it aside. The motion revealed his powerful, scar-covered torso, a physique honed and hardened by countless battles. Under the sterile lighting, his body seemed like that of an iron giant forged from steel.

But what truly struck fear into the soldiers were his cold, merciless eyes—eyes that viewed them as little more than prey to be slaughtered.

"Sixty-three soldiers," Bardi said, his voice low and emotionless. "Half of you will live, and half will die."

His tone was chilling, devoid of any sympathy. Stepping forward, he planted his foot on the leg of a nearby soldier who was clutching his thigh and wailing in pain. With a sickening crunch, Bardi crushed the man's femur.

"Ahhhh!"

The soldier screamed, his cries echoing through the smoke-filled air, adding a horrifying undertone to the eerie silence that followed.

"You get to live," Bardi said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. Then, without another glance, he walked away from the soldier. The man sobbed uncontrollably, clutching his shattered leg, unsure whether to feel relief or despair.

Bardi approached another soldier, who was sprawled on the ground. With a swift kick, he sent the man flying through the air. The soldier's body slammed into the warehouse door, leaving a bloody smear as he collapsed in a crumpled heap. He coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips, before going still.

"Eighteen," Bardi muttered, as though keeping count of his kills.

The soldiers froze in terror. Cold sweat poured down their faces, soaking their uniforms. One man trembled so violently that he wet himself, his fear driving him to complete incontinence.

Desperation overtook one of the soldiers. Raising a pistol with his remaining strength, he fired at Bardi. The gunshots rang out—bang, bang!—but Bardi dodged effortlessly.

He strode forward, closing the distance between himself and the soldier. In one swift motion, Bardi grabbed the man by the legs. With monstrous strength, he pulled, tearing the soldier apart as the man's screams filled the air.

The soldier's body was ripped in two, blood and organs spilling onto the floor in a grotesque display. Bardi flung the remains aside, ensuring that no blood would stain his own body.

The air felt suffocating. The oppressive tension pressed down on everyone in the room like a weight they couldn't escape.

The wounded soldiers didn't dare cry out. They bit down on their pain, terrified that even the smallest sound might provoke the brutal monster standing before them.

"Seventeen."

Bardi's cold voice rang out again, an unfeeling declaration of death.

"I surrender! Please, don't kill me! Don't kill me!" one of the soldiers cried out, his voice cracking with desperation.

Bardi's lips curled into a faint, satisfied smirk. He nodded and, with a calculated motion, stomped on the neck of another soldier nearby, killing him instantly. Blood splattered onto the face of the soldier who had begged for mercy, leaving him pale and trembling.

"Go stand in front of the warehouse door," Bardi commanded, his tone icy and absolute.

Terrified, the soldier obeyed, crawling toward the door. One by one, others followed suit, their faces etched with fear. In total, forty-one soldiers scrambled to their knees in front of the warehouse door, their movements frantic and disorganized.

Those who hesitated or moved too slowly were swiftly and mercilessly trampled to death by Bardi. His face remained expressionless, his actions cold and unrelenting.

"You have forty-one left," Bardi said, his voice calm yet heavy with menace. "I told you, only half of you will survive. That means only thirty-one of you can live."

He looked at the soldiers kneeling before him, his gaze piercing.

"Choose ten among yourselves to die," he ordered.

*****

Leave a review if you are enjoying this so far, and don't forget to drop a PS so the book can go far. This is also one of three choices I might pick, so if you are enjoying it, check out my Patreon to vote in the poll I set up and read up to the latest chapter for free, just check under collections. Rest assured, I will still be uploading the rest here daily until the poll reaches a conclusion. The poll ends in 7 days. It's pinned on my page.

Vote at: patreon.com/Blownleaves.