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Phantom Zone
It had been a week since Henry began wandering the Phantom Zone, searching for any sign of life.
Along the way, he encountered mindless enemies lurking throughout the wasteland.
One of these threats were the Phantoms—manifestations of the Zone itself. They were like echoes of extreme emotions.
Nebulous in form, with glowing eyes, incorporeal claws, and mouths frozen in eternal, silent screams.
They attacked living beings, trying to drain their life force or consume their minds. They were irrational but drawn to intense emotions.
Henry had taken down a group of ten of them.
Another threat he faced were the Grulons.
Savage creatures from Krypton, exiled for being genetically unstable and dangerously aggressive.
They were bipedal, with armored skin, four glowing eyes, triple-jawed maws, and retractable claws.
Henry handled them with relative ease, though being so far from Earth's sun came at a price.
He was beginning to weaken—just like during his time in the Flaxan dimension.
Nothing drastic, but it bothered him nonetheless.
At that moment, he was exploring yet another planet among the thousands scattered across the Phantom Zone.
This one was Karnath—a world that had once served as a refuge for exiled Kryptonian criminals.
The sky above Karnath was dark and unstable. The ground was cracked and littered with the ruins of ancient structures, long reduced to rubble.
Withered, twisted trees blanketed sections of the landscape, alongside patches of dead moss.
Henry flew across the terrain until something in the distance caught his eye.
He landed to investigate.
What he found were remnants of human life—what looked like a survivor's encampment.
The camp sat near a tall mountain, now completely destroyed, with scattered remnants of Kryptonian technology.
Henry felt a pit in his stomach—as if people had once lived there, only to be wiped out.
He kept searching, eventually coming across a photograph on the ground among the ruins.
The camp had several tents and a firepit at its center, though everything was a mess. Broken fragments of Kryptonian spacecraft were strewn about.
Henry knelt and picked up the photo.
In it stood an older man wearing Kryptonian armor—clearly a leader. His face was marked by battle scars, and a family crest adorned his chest.
Around him were several others: a short-haired young woman, an elderly man, and various other figures.
Henry studied the photo in silence, absorbing what it meant.
His sister might not be the last Kryptonian after all. He didn't know how many people were in the photo, but it couldn't be more than two hundred years old.
Which meant… these people might still be alive. Or there might be even more out there.
He tucked the photo into his pocket and kept searching the ruined camp for clues.
After sifting through debris for a while, Henry decided to dig.
Eventually, he uncovered armor—remnants of what had once been a body. There was nothing left of the skeleton; time had erased it.
Nearby, he found more fragments: a set of greaves, a torso plate, and then… something in the place where a hand would've been.
A device.
A metallic disc about four inches wide, made of dull silver with dark blue detailing. In its center was a glowing crystal, pointing in a single direction like a compass. A strange symbol was etched into the surface.
Henry picked it up.
"What is this?" he muttered, inspecting it.
He began experimenting with it. The compass only pointed one way—it still worked.
Turning it over, he found something engraved on the back.
Kryptonian script.
Henry wasn't fluent, but he could read basic words—his mother, Alura, had taught him the essentials.
He had even learned the Flaxan language, which was much more complex than Kryptonian.
He deciphered parts of the inscription:
"To those seeking hope—follow the light beyond the ruins. It will lead you to where life still remains."
That was the general message—he couldn't make out every word.
"What's in that direction?" he wondered. "Where were they trying to go?"
Henry held the compass tightly and took off, flying toward the direction it pointed.
He soared for several minutes until he reached a strange place.
"What happened here?" he asked himself.
It was a ruined city.
Buildings collapsed, debris everywhere—like something had torn the place apart. Remains of spacecraft were scattered across what had once been a bustling Kryptonian metropolis, now nothing but echoes of a forgotten past.
Henry, compass in hand, continued walking through the ruins.
At the city's center, he found a massive, half-collapsed structure.
He moved the rubble aside and uncovered an obelisk beneath it.
White stone. Faintly glowing.
Henry hovered above it.
"Is the signal coming from you?" he asked, scanning it from the air.
A few loops confirmed it—the compass was leading him here.
He landed.
Still searching for survivors, Henry explored the ruins further—flying overhead, scanning below.
Then he heard something.
He thought it might be another hostile creature, but this time… it was different.
Not mindless noises—voices.
Someone was in danger.
Henry flew toward them, leaving the ruins behind.
In an open plain, he spotted a girl—around fifteen years old—running from a group of Phantoms.
She wore a tattered outfit, patched together with old Kryptonian tech and worn fabric. A ripped cape hung from her shoulders, bearing a Kryptonian symbol.
She didn't look like a warrior. More like a healer… or a scholar.
The girl ran in panic, Phantoms closing in.
Not far behind her was a boy, about her age. Dressed similarly, but more like a fighter. He held a makeshift spear and sprinted toward her, shouting in Kryptonian—words Henry couldn't understand.
One of the Phantoms lunged. The girl dodged, hitting the ground hard.
The creature reared back for another strike—
Henry didn't let it land.
He needed information—and helping them wouldn't cost him anything.
With super-speed, he intercepted the attack, grabbing the Phantom's arm and shoving it back with a blow to the chest.
The girl blinked in confusion. The killing strike never came. Instead, someone stood between her and death.
Another Phantom charged Henry.
He caught the strike and crushed its hand before delivering a brutal punch to its head.
Crunch.
Sounded like a watermelon exploding.
Without wasting time, Henry unleashed his heat vision, slicing through the rest of the Phantoms.
Dead trees, rocks, and debris burned along the path.
The creatures fell, cut clean in half.
Henry turned to the girl.
She looked stunned. He couldn't tell if she was afraid of him—or of what just happened.
The boy with the spear ran up, helped her to her feet, then turned and pointed the weapon at Henry.
"Hey, easy! I'm not your enemy," Henry said, raising his hands.
The boy yelled something in Kryptonian—still unintelligible.
"Right… how do I say this again?"
He searched his memory for the Kryptonian word.
"Help," he finally said.
The girl blinked, then walked toward him.
She bowed slightly—at least that's how Henry interpreted the gesture.
She turned to speak with her brother in their language.
Then she signaled for Henry to follow.
He did.
For hours, Henry walked behind the siblings. The boy clearly didn't trust him, which Henry found understandable.
The girl, on the other hand, treated him almost like a savior.
Eventually, they arrived at a Kryptonian camp.
Dozens of survivors. Ruined tech. Primitive guards holding spears stood watch.
At the center stood a large tent or structure—likely the chief's quarters.
The girl gestured for Henry to come inside.
Guards followed him, watching closely.
Inside, a young girl—no older than fifteen—sat dressed in what resembled Kryptonian leadership attire.
The siblings knelt before her and began speaking.
One of the guards tried to force Henry to kneel, but it didn't work—he was far too strong.
The girl leader noticed and scolded the guard.
She tried speaking to Henry, but he didn't understand. Reading and writing were one thing—speaking was another.
After failing to communicate, she said something, and the guards escorted him outside.
They led him to a small house.
Henry entered and waited.
Eventually, the girl he saved earlier joined him, sitting across a table.
She placed a book in front of him.
"Oh no… not this again," Henry muttered.
He had barely mastered Flaxan—and now he had to learn another language?
He glared at the girl.
She glared back.
"You…"
Henry sighed. Finding his sister by chance was impossible. He needed these people.
So he gave in.
"Look, I'm awful at this… I don't have all the time in the world. I'm looking for someone," he said, gesturing to explain—but she just stared, confused.
"Fine," Henry muttered, grabbing the book.
She began teaching him.
And so Henry lived among them—slept, trained, and learned.
For the first time, he was among his own people.
Among Kryptonians.
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