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The universe, as it stood, was in disarray. Two voices, primordial, ancient and resonant, echoed across the fabric of existence, speaking in a tone that suggested familiarity yet absolute power. Chaos and Order—the primordial forces—watched over the twin planets birthed from the ruin of Urgrund.
“Do you see what they’ve done?” Chaos mused, their voice like a rippling storm, filled with amusement. “Your precious balance shattered yet again. Look at them, fighting over scraps of divinity.”
Order, in a voice that personified universal calm, responded, “Balance takes time, Chaos. Even in their strife, there is purpose. Creation and destruction are but two sides of the same coin.”
“Oh, spare me the philosophy,” Chaos chuckled darkly. “Look at Apokolips! Darkseid’s domain is nothing but misery and fire. And yet, somehow, they survive. Thrive, even. It’s almost… poetic.”
Order’s voice softened, but there was steel beneath it. “And Genesis? Have you forgotten? They rebuild, they nurture, they hold onto hope. You underestimate the resilience of light.”
Chaos snorted. “Hope? You mean stubbornness. But let’s focus on what really matters: your so-called balance is teetering. Darkseid grows tired of war, and yet he continues. You know why, don’t you?”
Order’s tone grew grim. “The Source. He’s searching for answers, for power beyond what even we understand.”
“Exactly!” Chaos exclaimed, almost gleeful. “And he’s willing to tear apart the multiverse to find it. Meanwhile, your noble Highfather hides behind treaties and exchanges children like they’re tokens. Tell me, does that look like balance to you?”
Order hesitated. “The treaty brought peace. An uneasy peace, but peace nonetheless. It has given both sides time to regroup, to reflect.”
“Reflect?” Chaos barked a laugh. “Darkseid doesn’t reflect. He conquers. Even now, his armies are spreading across the multiverse. And what about your Highfather? He’s too busy meditating with the Source to stop him.”
Order’s voice grew sharper. “Highfather has faith in the righteousness of his cause. And he has not abandoned the fight.”
“Faith? Cause?” Chaos’s tone was dripping with mockery. “You mean excuses. Let’s be real: they’re both playing the same game, just with different rules. And it’s the rest of existence that pays the price.”
For a moment, there was silence between them, as if even the primordial forces needed to pause and reflect. Then Chaos’s voice shifted, becoming almost playful.
“Speaking of paying the price, have you seen the little show on Apokolips lately? That ‘Granny Goodness’ of theirs? Now, she’s fascinating.”
Order sighed. “Her name is ironic, to say the least. She rose from the ashes of slavery, only to become one of Darkseid’s most loyal enforcers.”
“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it,” Chaos said, savoring the thought. “She’s the perfect embodiment of Apokolips: brutal, relentless, and just a little bit hopeful. She gives the slaves a sliver of a chance to rise above their station, even if it’s only to serve Darkseid.”
Order’s tone grew colder. “Hope twisted into servitude is not hope at all. It’s manipulation.”
“And yet, it works,” Chaos replied smoothly. “Look at her now. Dragging that broken woman through the slave pits, flaunting her power. Oh, and the S on her chest? That’s a nice touch.”
Order’s voice faltered. “The S… She’s from Earth-0, Kara Zor-El, isn’t she?”
Chaos hummed in agreement. “Indeed. A little survivor from the cornerstone of the multiverse. How she ended up on Apokolips is anyone’s guess, but it’s deliciously tragic, don’t you think?”
Order’s resolve hardened. “Her presence there is no accident. If she carries the mark of the House of El, she may yet be a beacon of hope for those trapped in darkness.”
“Hope?” Chaos sneered. “She’s barely alive. Did you see her? Bruised, broken, dragged through the dirt like a rag doll. Even the slaves barely dared to look at her.”
Order’s voice softened, but there was an edge of determination. “And yet they looked. Even in their fear, they looked. Hope is not so easily extinguished, Chaos.”
Chaos laughed again, a sound like shattering glass. “Oh, Order, you’re hopelessly naive. But I’ll admit, it’ll be fun to see how this plays out. Will she rise? Will she fall? Or will she simply fade into the fire pits of Apokolips?”
Order’s tone was resolute. “Whatever her fate, she will not be forgotten. The mark she carries is more than a symbol; it’s a legacy. And legacies have a way of enduring, even in the darkest of places.”
Chaos chuckled, the sound fading into a low rumble. “Well then, let’s watch and see. After all, what’s the point of existence if not to enjoy the drama?”
As their voices faded, the scene on Apokolips continued to unfold. The Granny Goodness dragged the broken woman through the desolate slave pits. Around her, soldiers stood at rigid attention, their faces covered under dark masks. The slaves, huddled in the shadows, dared to steal glances, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperate curiosity.
The woman on the ground, bearing the unmistakable S on her chest, groaned faintly. She was beautiful or would have been beautioful if not for the absolute mess she was in. Her short blonde hair, now streaked with gray and matted with dirt, clung to her face. Her body was covered in wounds, her clothing tattered and barely held, but the symbol on her chest remained untouched, gleaming defiantly in the dim light of Apokolips.
Granny Goodness paused, her grip on the woman’s ankle unyielding. She turned to the soldiers, her voice sharp and commanding. “Get back to work. The Lord of Darkness doesn’t pay you to stand around gawking.”
The soldiers snapped to attention, their gazes snapping forward as they resumed their tasks. The slaves, too, retreated further into the shadows, though their eyes lingered on the fallen woman for just a moment longer.
As Granny Goodness resumed her march, one of the Furies—with a scar running down her cheek—stepped closer. “Granny, is she really worth the trouble?”
Granny Goodness didn’t slow her pace. “Darkseid sees potential in her. That’s all you need to know.”
The Fury hesitated, then fell back into line. The group continued their march, the sound of boots against metal echoing through the oppressive air.
High above, in the unseeable planes of existence, Chaos and Order watched, their attention unwavering.
“So, what’s your bet?” Chaos asked, their voice tinged with curiosity. “Will she break, or will she burn bright enough to bring a little light to this hellhole?”
Order didn’t answer immediately. When they finally spoke, their tone was quiet but firm. “Even in the deepest darkness, a single spark can ignite a flame. And flames… can spread.”
Chaos smirked. “Oh, this is going to be good.”
______
The burning sensation gradually made me regain consciousness.
My head felt like it was about to explode, and my body from the neck down had no feeling. I tried to raise my heavy eyelids, managing to open them just a crack. Everything in sight was blurry, and I couldn’t tell where I was.
I could only move my eyes at that moment; the pain in my head was too much to think clearly. Even though my body was being dragged, I couldn’t feel it. The only way I knew I was moving was from the shifting view of the world around me.
Suddenly, the motion stopped. Everything went still. My senses sharpened just a bit, and I realized I could move my head slightly now. I attempted to turn it left and right, but before I could process much, a sharp pain radiated from my ankle. It was so sudden and intense that I bit down hard, tasting blood.
After the pain subsided, I felt a strong grip on my neck. Someone lifted me like I was weightless.
“It seems you’ve woken up,” a voice said, dripping with cruelty. I blinked and focused on the person holding me. An old woman stared back at me, her face twisted in an unsettling smile.
Even in my dazed state, her demeanor sent chills down my spine. I’d joked about terrifying grandmas before, but this was something else entirely.
“Very good,” she said, almost mockingly. Then, without hesitation, she threw me into the fire pit behind her.
Heat and darkness engulfed me as I lost consciousness again.
When I woke the second time, my head was clear, and I could move my body again. The first thing I noticed was that I was gripping an arm in my left hand. The arm was grotesque, with exposed bones and rotting flesh. My stomach churned.
“Ugh,” I muttered, quickly tossing it aside. Then, I noticed that I was completely naked and covered in soot.
Raising my right hand, I spotted a foreign object attached to my arm. My heart raced as I turned to look, and immediately, I regretted it. A severed head dangled there, held by a crude strap. The sight of the crushed skull, brains oozing out, made bile rise in my throat.
I gagged and stumbled to the side, dry-heaving until the nausea subsided. After catching my breath, I yanked the head off and hurled it away, refusing to look at it again.
As I calmed down, I noticed something else. My chest felt... different. Looking down, I froze. My chest had been pretty good, C cup, but this…. This was definitely more than a G cup.
“What the hell?” I whispered. My voice cracked, sounding higher-pitched than usual.
It took a while to process the change, but memories that weren’t mine began to surface, filling in the blanks. The name Kara Zor-El echoed in my mind. Kryptonian. Kal-El’s cousin. The memories played like a movie, showing Krypton’s destruction, the escape pods, and the unexpected detour to Apokolips.
I remembered landing here, thinking it was Earth, only to be greeted by the horror of Darkseid and his minions. The years of torment, training, and brainwashing under that vile woman they called Granny Goodness flooded my consciousness. It was like watching someone else’s nightmare, but I could feel every blow, every tear.
Then, there was Scott—Highfather’s son—a fellow prisoner who became my only friend in this hellish place. He taught me to survive, to resist, even when hope seemed impossible.
But hope was a dangerous thing on Apokolips. I remembered the day my spirit broke, the day I truly understood the slaves’ whispers: “There is no hope here, only Darkseid.” That despair consumed me until…
Until I wasn’t me anymore. A new soul had taken over this body—my soul. I wasn’t Kara Zor-El, but now I was.
Looking around, I saw the aftermath of a brutal fight. Bodies—or what was left of them—were strewn across the wasteland. Blood pooled in the cracked ground, and the air reeked of death. My hands trembled as I realized I had done this. I had killed them all.
The weight of it pressed down on me, but there was no time to dwell. The sky above was pitch black, devoid of stars or a moon. This wasn’t Earth—it was still Apokolips.
Just as I was about to test my Kryptonian powers and take flight, the air shimmered in front of me. A sonic boom rippled through the space, and a glowing portal—a Boom Tube—opened.
My heart raced. Memories of these portals flooded back. They were gateways controlled by the Mother Boxes, used by Apokolips and New Genesis alike. Whoever came through could be friend or foe.
Armored soldiers stepped out of the Boom Tube, their gear gleaming in bright colors that contrasted sharply with Apokolips’ dull, oppressive tones. My instincts told me they weren’t Darkseid’s troops—he forbade anything so vibrant. The soldiers paused, seemingly unsure of what to make of me. I squared my shoulders and faced them, ready for whatever came next. If they were allies, great. If not… well, I’d survived Apokolips this long. I wasn’t about to go down now.
The soldiers paused, seemingly unsure of what to make of me. I squared my shoulders and faced them, ready for whatever came next. If they were allies, great. If not… well, I’d survived Apokolips this long. I wasn’t about to go down now.
Before I could speak, a sharp sound behind me made me turn.
The moment I heard the sharp whistle of something cutting through the air, my body reacted before my brain even caught up. Instinctively, I leaped forward, twisting mid-air to face the source of the sound. My eyes burned with raw energy as heat vision erupted from them, searing toward my attacker.
The jump barely got me out of harm's way. I mean, centimeters. That sledgehammer – and I’m calling it a sledgehammer because “terrifying chunk of death” is too wordy – passed so close to me I swear I felt its aura. Not just the whoosh of displaced air, but this... unnatural, heavy energy radiating from it. It knocked me back mid-air, throwing off my aim. My heat rays shot wide, missing the target entirely.
I scrambled, stabilizing myself as the force of the wind slammed against me. When I finally managed to get my bearings, my eyes locked on the guy below.
And there he was.
Towering at least two meters tall, clad in blue and gray armor that screamed “ancient warrior” but somehow futuristic, too. His white beard flowed out from under his helmet, braided neatly and hanging down to his stomach. The guy looked like a pissed-off bastard child of Genghis Khan and a Viking woman who had wandered into some sci-fi dimension.
“I want to see how long your eyes can last!” he bellowed, his voice a deep rumble that echoed across the landscape. With a deliberate motion, he smashed the hammer into the ground. It left cracks, actual cracks, radiating out like some earthquake had just woken up. Great. Fantastic.
I hovered higher, instinctively pulling back. My heat vision had barely singed him. Not even his armor. All it did was raise some white smoke, and when that cleared, he looked totally fine. Annoyed, sure, but fine.
“Who the hell is this guy?” I muttered under my breath. I’d already clocked that the soldiers standing behind him – New Genesis' army, if my instincts were right – weren’t moving to attack. They just stood there, watching. For now. Not attacking me was a small blessing, but their silent, encircling formation? Not reassuring.
The old man didn’t like being ignored, though. With a grunt of effort, he lifted the hammer and threw it. Straight at me. I dodged, of course, because what was I supposed to do? Just stand there? Still, my gut churned. Something about the way that hammer moved... It wasn’t natural. Too precise. Too... intentional.
I kept my eyes on him as he smirked up at me, his arm moving ever so slightly.
“No way,” I whispered, realization dawning. Sure enough, the hammer stopped mid-air. Just stopped. Then, with a shimmer of golden energy, it changed direction and flew straight back to him.
“I am Yuga Khan,” he declared as he caught the hammer with one hand, as casual as if someone had tossed him a soda can. He took off his helmet, revealing a face lined with age but radiating strength. His pale eyes narrowed at me. “Unrivaled warrior of New Genesis! Darkseid’s subordinate! Today, you will not leave alive!”
Darkseid. Of course, I completely forgot about the guy. Why wouldn’t it be Darkseid? Because what’s a casual Tuesday without someone from Apokolips showing up to ruin my day?
I glanced around, desperately trying to figure out where the hell I was. Why I was here. Why this was happening. This wasn’t even my fight! Well, technically, it was, but it’s not like I signed up for this. I felt like screaming, “I’m just trying to get by, okay?!” but somehow, I doubted that would work.
Before I could come up with anything clever, Yuga Khan bent his legs and launched himself into the air with enough force to shatter the ground beneath him. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact point, dirt and debris scattering everywhere.
Super hearing’s a gift, really. Even though I wasn’t looking directly at him, I could hear every little shift in his armor as he soared upward. I waited, just a fraction of a second longer than he probably expected, then darted to the side at Kryptonian speed, leaving an afterimage behind.
He swung his hammer. It passed through my fake. His reflexes were sharp, though. Twisting mid-swing, he shifted the hammer behind him, just in time to block my punch. The impact jarred us both – me more than him, I’ll admit. He dropped a few meters from the force but managed to recover quickly.
Not that I was about to let him rest. I surged forward, throwing a rapid flurry of punches, each one landing with a satisfying clang against his armor. Four, five, six hits. Then I backed off, putting some distance between us.
His armor didn’t have a single dent.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered, wiping the blood from my split knuckles. Kryptonian strength, and I’d barely scratched him? New God tech. Of course. Why wouldn’t his gear be stupidly overpowered?
Yuga Khan smirked, clearly unimpressed. He hefted the hammer again, throwing it with a casual flick of his wrist. This time, I was ready. Dodging wasn’t the hard part. It was keeping an eye on him and his weapon at the same time. He followed right behind it, closing the gap with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for someone his size.
Dodging his strikes while countering when I could, I felt a begrudging respect creeping in. His movements weren’t flashy, but they were precise, efficient. Every swing, every step, calculated to corner me. And damn, if he didn’t almost pull it off.
Almost.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve got going for me, it’s speed. As he lunged forward, I twisted away, creating another afterimage to throw him off. For a split second, he looked confused. Then I drove a punch into his side. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send him spiraling back to the ground.
The hammer, of course, came back to him like a loyal dog. He caught it mid-air, glaring up at me with murder in his eyes.
“This is fine,” I told myself. “Everything’s fine. Totally fine.”
It wasn’t fine. My hands were trembling from the impact of that last blow. Blood dripped from my cracked knuckles. And to make matters worse, the soldiers below had shifted subtly, forming a tighter circle. They weren’t attacking, not yet, but they were ready to cut off any escape route I might have.
“Where are Apokolips reinforcements when you need them?” I muttered, half-joking, half-pleading. Because honestly? This wasn’t a fight I wanted to take on alone. Yuga Khan wasn’t just strong. He was experienced. Calculated. And me? I was flying by the seat of my pants, hoping my instincts would keep me alive.
He didn’t give me time to catch my breath. Leaping skyward again, he swung the hammer in a wide arc. I barely dodged, heat vision flaring to buy me some time. The golden energy from his hammer rippled outward, forming a protective shield around him. Great. Now he had a shield. Because that’s what this fight needed. More unfair advantages.
The space inside the shield began to shrink, closing me in. I darted left, then right, trying to find an opening, but the walls kept closing. Yuga Khan’s attacks came faster now, each one aimed to corner me further.
“Think, Kara, think,” I muttered, my mind racing. “You’re Kryptonian. You’ve got speed. Strength. Heat vision. Use it.”
But none of it felt like enough. He wasn’t just a New God; he was one of the strongest creatures in the universe. How was I supposed to beat that?
Then it hit me. He wasn’t a god. Not really. Not in the cosmic sense. He was powerful, sure. But he wasn’t invincible. He wasn’t unbeatable.
I just had to find a way to prove it.
Dodging another swing, I feinted toward the shrinking shield wall. Yuga Khan’s eyes lit up with triumph as he lunged after me, hammer raised. But I was already gone, moving faster than he could track. The afterimage I left behind drew his attack, and as he swung wildly, I darted behind him.
This time, I didn’t hold back. My fist connected with the back of his head, sending him flying out of the shield. He crashed into the ground below, the impact leaving yet another crater in the already-ruined landscape.
Hovering above, I clenched my trembling fists, blood dripping from the cracks in my skin. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep this up. But as Yuga Khan dragged himself to his feet, glaring up at me with unbridled fury, I forced a smirk.
“You’re not the only one who can fight dirty,” I called down, hoping my voice didn’t betray how exhausted I felt.
______
Chaos laughed, their shifting form pulsing with wild energy. “Look at her! A Kryptonian, standing against a New God! Oh, how deliciously absurd this is!”
Order’s form flared, the edges of their geometric lines sharpening. “It is not absurd. It is inevitable. She embodies resistance, a refusal to succumb to despair. It is the natural order of life to challenge power, even against insurmountable odds.”
Chaos spiraled upward, their laughter echoing like thunder. “Natural order? You say that as if she has a chance! Look at her, flitting about like a moth trying to dodge a flame. Yuga Khan will crush her, as he has crushed countless others. That is true inevitability, my stiff friend.”
Order’s glow intensified, and their voice grew colder. “You misunderstand the nature of inevitability, Chaos. It is not the dominance of the strong over the weak; it is the triumph of will over despair. She fights not because she can win, but because she must. That is her purpose.”
The scene shifted slightly, showing Kara Zor-El darting through the air. Yuga Khan hurled his hammer with immense force, the weapon glowing with golden energy. Kara barely evaded it, the shockwave of its passage rattling the ground below.
Chaos clapped—or at least made a sound that resembled clapping. “Oh, I adore this! The chaos of it all! The hammer, the heat rays, the desperation in her eyes—it’s pure poetry. And yet, here she is, bleeding and bruised, still thinking she can win. How chaotic of her!”
Order’s tone was unwavering. “It is not chaos. It is resolve. Kara Zor-El does not fight for victory; she fights for survival, for hope. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, she refuses to yield. That is the essence of order—to impose meaning upon the chaos around her.”
Chaos shifted closer to the scene, their form swirling with curiosity. “Hope? Survival? Bah! She’s a Kryptonian in a world that devours hope. You’ve seen everything that happened to her over the years, haven’t you? Years on Apokolips, raped, beaten, healed under the lash of Darksheid, broken and rebuilt into a weapon. What hope is there in that?”
Order’s glow softened slightly, but their voice remained firm. “It is precisely because of her suffering that she fights. Hope is not a gift, Chaos; it is a creation. She has forged it from her pain, her defiance. That is her strength.”
Below, the battle raged on. Yuga Khan leapt into the air with a force that cracked the ground beneath him. Kara Zor-El spun mid-flight, using her speed to create an afterimage that deceived him. As the New God struck at empty space, Kara appeared behind him, her fists slamming into his back with enough force to send him hurtling into the ground.
Chaos erupted with glee, their form expanding and contracting in rhythm with its laughter. “Oh, look at that! She got a hit in! And now he’s angrier than ever. This is wonderful! Tell me, Order, how does your precious hope fare against a god’s wrath?”
Order’s light dimmed momentarily, as if considering the question. “Wrath is a fleeting thing, Chaos. It burns brightly but consumes itself. Kara’s strength is in her endurance. She does not need to overpower Yuga Khan; she needs only to outlast him.”
Chaos twisted into a mocking imitation of Kara’s form, pretending to throw punches. “Outlast him? Are you watching the same fight as I am? She’s already at her limit. Her fists are trembling, her energy is waning, and that golden shield of his is closing in. Face it—she’s finished!”
The scene zoomed in on Kara’s face. Her lips were set in a determined line. Blood dripped from her knuckles, and her breath came in ragged gasps, but she did not falter.
Order’s voice softened, carrying a note of admiration. “She is not finished. She is fighting for more than herself. In every punch, every dodge, she carries the weight of those who cannot fight—those who suffer under tyranny. It is not strength of body that will carry her through, but strength of spirit.”
Chaos scoffed, its form rippling with disdain. “Spirit? How quaint. Spirit won’t stop Yuga Khan from crushing her. Look!”
Below, Yuga Khan had recovered, his golden hammer glowing with blinding intensity. He raised it high, calling forth a wave of energy that surged toward Kara. The Kryptonian darted to the side, narrowly avoiding the blast, but the shockwave sent her tumbling through the air.
Chaos chuckled darkly. “There it is—the end of your precious hero. She’s outmatched, outgunned, and running out of time.”
Order’s glow surged, their edges radiating calm strength. “Do you not see, Chaos? Even now, she adapts. She learns. Yuga Khan relies on brute strength, on the inevitability of his power. Kara Zor-El, however, is unpredictable. That is why she will endure.”
The scene shifted again, showing Kara stabilizing herself mid-air. Her hands trembled, her muscles screamed in protest, but her eyes locked onto Yuga Khan with unyielding focus. She darted forward, feinting to the left before creating another afterimage. This time, when Yuga Khan struck at the decoy, she anticipated his move and delivered a crushing blow to his side.
Chaos paused, their form rippling with intrigue. “Huh. I’ll admit, that was clever. She’s playing him. But cleverness won’t save her forever.”
Order’s voice carried a note of satisfaction. “Cleverness is but one tool in her arsenal. She embodies adaptability, determination, and the refusal to surrender. These are not the traits of chaos, but of order imposed upon a chaotic world.”
Chaos tilted as if shrugging. “Call it what you want, but this fight is far from over. Yuga Khan isn’t just some brute—he’s a god. And gods don’t lose to mortals.”
Order’s glow dimmed slightly. “Gods are not infallible. They, too, have limits. Yuga Khan’s arrogance blinds him to Kara Zor-El’s potential. In his mind, he has already won. That is his weakness.”
Chaos leaned closer to the scene, their shifting form vibrating with excitement. “Weakness or not, this is going to be fun to watch. Let’s see how far your little hero can push herself before she breaks.”
Order’s glow steadied, radiating unwavering confidence. “She will not break, Chaos. She will rise. And in doing so, she will remind even the gods that power alone does not make one invincible.”