"Um?"
Bardi frowned slightly.
As his feet left the operating table and touched the ground, a sharp, tingling sensation spread from the soles of his feet to his calves, like an electric current surging through his muscles. It was a familiar feeling, similar to the numbness caused by poor circulation after sitting too long but far more intense, almost painful.
Yet, despite the discomfort, Bardi's expression remained unchanged.
His body was weak, but the powerful genes within him—deeply embedded in his bioengineered physique—made this sensation particularly unsettling.
With the assistance of Hera, who wore a pristine white lab coat, Bardi got dressed, slipping into a long white trench coat.
Hera adjusted the coat around his chest, smoothing out the fabric with her slender hands before stepping aside.
Leaving the sterile testing room, they walked through a metallic corridor, their footsteps barely making a sound against the white, sound-absorbing rubber floor. The corridor was bright, metallic, and cold—silent except for the measured steps of Bardi and Hera, shrouding the atmosphere in an eerie stillness.
They arrived at another section of the cloning lab. Along the corridor, every meter, a cylindrical glass chamber extended from the ceiling, connected by thick transmission tubes. These chambers, filled with a greenish nutrient solution were designed for biological cultivation, functioning as incubators for cloning experiments.
Suspended within the translucent green liquid were numerous humanoid figures, curled into fetal positions. Their features were eerily identical to Hera's—each clone a perfect replica, sleeping soundlessly.
The pale green light cast ghostly reflections on the floor, where cold mist slithered like a living entity. Below the surface, minute particles drifted through the nutrient-rich solution, adding to the ominous atmosphere.
Multiple identical human figures floated in the chambers, submerged in the greenish glow of the cultivation medium.
A deep, chilling silence filled the air—an unsettling, almost sinister laboratory designed for creating artificial life.
Bardi and Hera continued forward, their precise, deliberate footsteps cutting through the cold mist, sending it swirling behind them. The frost clung to Hera's black stockings, lightly freezing over as she moved.
Finally, they stopped before Chamber No. 1.
Inside the chamber was a perfect clone of Bardi—tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. His features were strikingly symmetrical: sharp, chiseled lines, a strong nose, and a broad forehead. Unlike Bardi, however, this clone's skin was unblemished, devoid of scars. His expression carried an air of elegance, his appearance refined and extraordinary—completely lacking the fierce, battle-hardened edge that defined Bardi.
Hera began her report.
"We have ensured that the control program can replicate the genetic defects precisely while maintaining energy absorption levels equal to the standard Kryptonian genetic baseline. No anomalies have been detected."
"The combat data input is complete. The built-in disruptive radiation interferes with vision-based analysis, ensuring that even Jor-El will not immediately recognize it as a clone upon first glance."
"Additionally, the replication of old scars, expressions of hatred, and the imitation of your battle-worn demeanor will be finalized by tomorrow."
"The thirty solar energy liquefaction syringes are also prepared."
"In four hours, he will achieve combat strength equivalent to his master."
Hera's tone remained clinical as she delivered the status update.
This clone had been created as a tool, nothing more than a disposable test subject designed to gauge the limits of Jor-El's hidden power. Its development had only recently been completed.
"Not enough."
Bardi narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing his clone with a calculating gaze.
Each day, Jor-El absorbed more solar energy, gradually pushing the boundaries of Kryptonian genetic potential. At the same time, Jor-El was undoubtedly analyzing his limits as well—studying the maximum amount of solar energy Bardi's body could take in.
If, at the moment of confrontation, Bardi had not surpassed Jor-El's expectations, had not made it appear as though he possessed an absolute advantage, then Jor-El's keen intellect would immediately grow suspicious. He would recognize the deception, that this was merely a disposable clone meant to gauge his strength.
Bardi never attacked without certainty.
Thus, this clone needed to truly possess the overwhelming power required to kill Jor-El. Only then would the illusion hold.
Although their ultimate battle was inevitable, the lead-up was a battle of wits, a constant mental chess game of anticipation and countermeasures.
On Krypton, Jor-El held the advantage. The El family name alone granted him unparalleled resources, making him nearly untouchable in his own domain.
There, Bardi had been forced to retreat, overpowered by the sheer force of Krypton's ruling class.
But on Earth, things were different.
Here, he held the advantage.
He possessed knowledge, information, and experience that could be used to threaten Jor-El.
Bardi would never waste an opportunity to eliminate him.
"Equip the clone with an anti-Kryptonite radiation suit. Also, prepare a concealed green Kryptonite dagger."
Bardi folded his arms, rubbing his left palm thoughtfully as he continued.
"I will generate a Red Sun Radiation Spectrum. Using military satellites, I'll ensure Nevada is completely covered in red sunlight."
"Increase the number of solar energy liquefaction syringes—not fifty, but three hundred and eighty. The clone must reach the absolute peak of this defective gene's potential."
His eyes flashed with cold determination as he laid out the plan.
This level of preparation would push the defective gene to its final stage, a monstrous, towering form that could destroy planets.
The last time this state had been achieved, it had shattered Azarath moon, throwing its planetary tides into chaos, plunging it into a near-apocalyptic state.
With this level of power, Jor-El would have no choice but to fully commit to eliminating the clone.
If Jor-El underestimated it even slightly, he could die at its hands.
But Bardi didn't believe Jor-El would be caught off guard.
"Master," Hera interjected, her voice calm yet questioning. "Thirty solar energy liquefaction syringes are already the upper limit for this enhanced clone. Three hundred and eighty would cause it to self-destruct."
The clone's body lacked the stability to contain such a massive influx of solar energy.
Even Azarath's Lost Armor—one of the strongest pieces of magical equipment—was barely sufficient to keep the transformation from spiraling out of control. Simply injecting that much raw energy would turn the clone into a bomb.
"I know."
Bardi's voice was unwavering.
"Reduce the injections to 280. I will have Raven reinforce the clone with high-tier magical stabilizers. Tomorrow, she and I will inscribe a magical formation onto the clone's body to prevent structural collapse."
After careful calculation, he concluded that even a reduction of syringes would still make the clone three times stronger than Jor-El.
And that threefold advantage would be enough.
In battle, one point of power could determine victory or defeat in an instant. Three points would force Jor-El to fight with absolute caution, to reveal every hidden countermeasure he had prepared.
Bardi's cold gaze lingered on the clone, his mind already anticipating the moment of confrontation.
No matter the cost—Jor-El would not leave this battle unscathed.
(To be continued.)
***
For every 200 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on patreon to read 30+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Blownleaves.