Faora-Ul's decision broke the stalemate.
Once she stepped forward, others followed.
"I stand with him."
"So do I."
"Krypton needs strength. Without it, there is no future."
One by one, the former exiles—soldiers who had once defied the High Council and endured the Phantom Zone—shifted their allegiance. They were not sentimental. They had followed Zod because he had been the strongest among them. That calculation had changed.
They had drifted through hostile space for years, believing themselves the last embers of a dead civilization. Survival had hardened them. Idealism meant nothing without power.
Rhael had power.
Not all moved immediately. Some hesitated, eyes drawn toward the fallen figure at the center of the chamber.
Then metal rang sharply.
Zod stirred.
Against all expectation, he forced himself upright. One arm hung broken. The cryogenic wound through his torso remained frozen, the flesh around it pale and crystallized. Regeneration was stalled—suppressed by the invasive cold.
In his remaining hand, he gripped a short alloy blade.
A few warriors stepped forward instinctively.
Rhael did not.
"Still trying?" he asked calmly.
Zod's breathing was ragged. Blood stained his lips.
"I lost," he said at last.
The admission seemed to drain what little strength he had left.
The chamber went utterly still.
Zod lifted his head and fixed Rhael with a final, burning stare.
"You won. But hear me." His voice scraped against his throat. "If you cannot lead Krypton back from extinction… I will not forgive you. Even in death."
Before anyone could react, he reversed the blade and drove it into his own heart.
The sound was soft.
Too soft.
His body went slack almost immediately.
"General—!"
Several warriors moved, but it was already over. Zod's eyes had lost focus. The blade remained buried to the hilt.
Rhael watched in silence.
He understood the choice.
Zod would never serve under another. Not after commanding armies. Not after staking his identity on Krypton's resurrection. Pride had defined him. Without authority, there was nothing left.
"It didn't have to end this way," Rhael said quietly. "But I respect your resolve."
There was no mockery in his tone.
Only acknowledgment.
A long moment passed.
Then armor shifted.
Faora dropped to one knee.
The sound echoed like a signal.
Around her, the remaining elite warriors followed—kneeling in disciplined unison.
"We pledge ourselves to you," Faora said evenly. "For Krypton."
Rhael regarded them without outward triumph.
This was not conquest for its own sake. It was consolidation.
Still, he felt the shift.
Two warships now stood under a single command. The remnants of Krypton's most militant faction had aligned behind him. Authority was no longer symbolic.
It was absolute.
"Very well," he said.
"If Krypton is to rise, it will not be through division."
He glanced once more at Zod's body.
"Prepare him properly. He was a soldier to the end."
The order carried no hesitation.
Behind them, the World Engine resumed controlled drift, stabilizing its orbit through the star field. The smaller reconnaissance vessel Aquarius moved into formation, maintaining escort position.
Inside the Aquarius, Adjutant Lilith, Medic Lucine, and the crew struggled to process what had just unfolded. The most formidable faction among surviving Kryptonians had bent the knee in a matter of hours.
Not through negotiation.
Through demonstration.
Lilith stepped forward as Rhael reentered the chamber.
"We cannot continue as we have," she said carefully. "Two vessels. One unified command. The old structures are gone."
She paused.
"If there is to be one will guiding Krypton's future… it must be formalized."
A council was impossible. There were too few survivors. Too much instability. Multiple voices would fracture what had just been forged.
Krypton needed singular authority.
Lilith lowered her head.
"Your Majesty."
The word settled over the chamber.
The High Council was dust.
The old Empire was ash.
But in the wreckage of extinction, a new throne had just been claimed.
Rhael Zane did not smile.
He simply accepted what had already become inevitable.