---
Henry was flying toward the battlefield where the heroes were fighting.
He was carrying the mage, holding her close with his one arm.
He was weaker than before—and the Kryptonians likely were too. It hadn't been long since they'd received their powers.
Tucked away in his belt was a communicator he had taken from the Fortress of Solitude.
"I'm sending you their location," said Cecil through the device.
"Who am I fighting?" Henry asked.
"The big guy... Mark's keeping the woman busy—more like buying time. I don't think he can hold out much longer."
"I see..."
"I couldn't help but notice how similar these people are to you. What do you know about them? Do you know where they came from? Where the hell have you been all this time?" Cecil's voice had a sharp, suspicious edge.
Henry owed him answers.
"I'll tell you everything. But what matters now is that I fix this. This... is partly my fault."
"It better be. Are you finally going to tell me where you're from?"
"Yeah..."
The mage spoke in Kryptonian, glancing up at him.
"Who are you talking to?"
"I heard a voice. Who is that?" asked Cecil.
"We'll talk later. I've got some things to handle," Cecil said, cutting the connection.
"Wait—"
But Henry had already shut the communicator off.
"Who was that?" the mage asked again.
"My boss," Henry replied.
"You have a boss? I thought humans were weak."
"They are... usually. But he's different. Anyway—will you help me?"
"Of course. I don't know how much help I'll be, but I'll try."
---
Meanwhile, Mark was struggling against Faora.
He had managed to pin her down using a kata-gatame hold.
They were on the ground, locked together.
He was doing everything he could to keep her from escaping.
He even used a high-frequency sonic device to disorient her. Unfortunately, it affected him too—super hearing worked both ways.
After holding her for a while, Mark started to tire.
The woman he was fighting wasn't as strong as Nolan or Henry, but she was still incredibly powerful.
"Who do you think you are, boy..." Faora growled.
She grabbed his arm and began to force her way out—she was stronger than him.
The only thing keeping her at bay was the device wrecking her senses.
But over time, she began to adapt. Her strength returned.
She grabbed Mark's arm and threw him off.
The two tumbled across the ground.
Then she elbowed him hard across the face.
"Ugh!" Mark groaned in pain.
She shoved him away and rose to her feet.
"You caught me off guard. That won't happen again—I promise," she said, then shot toward him at full speed.
Mark lay on the ground, dazed. Blood ran from both their ears thanks to the sonic device.
Faora landed beside him, grabbed him by the hair, and began to pummel his face.
Fist after fist smashed into his features, swelling his face with every blow.
When she finally let go, Mark collapsed, still alive but completely wrecked.
His face was barely recognizable.
"You fought well, kid. I'd love to keep going, but I've got places to be," she said.
Mark couldn't move. He was too weak.
She raised her foot and stomped on his head, slamming it into the ground.
Then she lifted her leg again, aiming to crush his spine—
—when suddenly, someone appeared out of nowhere in a flash of light.
An older man in a suit: Cecil.
He had used the teleportation tech and arrived right next to Mark.
Faora tensed, stepping into a fighting stance. She didn't know his abilities and hesitated.
Then she launched a punch at his head, fast and brutal.
But Cecil was quicker. He touched Mark's body and activated the teleporter again.
They vanished just in time—Faora's fist missed by inches.
"Tsk," she muttered, disappointed. Someone had stolen her kill.
Wasting no time, Faora crouched, then launched herself into the air, flying toward Zod.
---
Earlier – GDA Headquarters
Cecil had been watching the fight between Mark and Faora unfold. When he saw how dire things were getting, he made a decision.
He wasn't a coward. Before leading the GDA, he had been a soldier—he knew the battlefield.
"Send me in. Use the teleporter," he told his agents.
The GDA had teleportation tech, but it wasn't cheap. Each jump cost billions. They couldn't afford to use it casually.
But this was no time to hold back.
"Sir, it's too dangerous—"
"Do it. Drop me next to Mark."
"But—"
"No buts. If we don't act now, he's dead. Just follow my order."
"...Yes, sir."
"Be ready to pull me out the moment I touch the kid."
The agents nodded.
A moment later, the teleport system was ready.
Cecil braced himself—and jumped.
He appeared beside Mark, whose face was crushed into the dirt.
Without hesitating, Cecil reached out and made contact.
Faora launched a punch at his skull—but he was gone in a blink, vanishing with Mark just in time.
Had she landed that punch, his head would've been obliterated.
---
Back at GDA
Cecil reappeared at headquarters, panting.
He was sweating. That had been too close.
Mark lay motionless on the ground, a battered mess.
Cecil knelt beside him, still holding his arm.
He stood and gave the order.
"Get him to the med bay. Now—before he dies."
"Yes, sir!"
Cecil turned his attention back to the monitors, resuming his usual work.
Watching Earth.
"Are you alright, sir?" asked Donald.
"Just barely. I made it out. What about the woman—where is she headed?"
"She's moving toward the others, sir. If they regroup, things will get a lot harder for us."
"You're right... What about the rest? Give me a full status report."
"They're holding out, sir... doing what they can," Donald replied, clearly worried.
---