Awakening Kryptonian Bloodline In Marvel.

"Jarvis, take off the armor."

Jill heard Malrick's voice echo from inside the towering suit of metal.

"Yes, young master," came a second, mechanical voice from within.

Jill blinked, unsure if she was imagining things.

But before she could react, the mecha's thrusters flared with fire, and its metal plates began to open one by one—revealing the man hidden inside.

Jill froze.

It dawned on her that the mecha had been floating earlier—suspended midair without any visible propulsion. Not a single jet or rotor.

It was... unnatural.

Ghost-like.

A chill shot down her spine, replaced almost immediately by a rising wave of dread.

The face that appeared from within the armor stopped her thoughts altogether.

Malrick.

His face was sharp, with a high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, and thick brows. His hair was tousled, every strand seeming to fall into place with careless precision. There was something timeless about him—like a sculpture brought to life.

And yet his outfit clashed with the godlike presence.

A stone-gray knit sweater clung loosely to his upper body. Khaki shorts hung below, his legs casually exposed. To complete the look: brown high-top sneakers. He looked less like a war god and more like a college student who'd stepped out to grab breakfast on a lazy summer morning.

If that had been the end of it, Jill might've just thought he was an eccentric genius.

But the moment the armor fully opened…

He floated up—unaided—into the air.

Malrick flew.

Jill and Carlos stared in disbelief, their jaws slack. The only words that came to mind were ones best not spoken in polite company.

Above them, Malrick's casual demeanor shifted. The laziness in his eyes hardened, and a crimson light flickered deep within his pupils.

The armor closed behind him, flames flaring at its feet as it hovered like a sentinel.

"I wanted to blend in. Live like a normal person," Malrick said, his voice carrying across the street. "But this thing just won't stay dead."

He lifted one arm casually. "Fine. Let's lay it all out."

"The armor—it's just a seal. I don't even need it."

Malrick crossed his arms, floating midair. His baggy shorts flapped slightly in the breeze, yet somehow, he radiated arrogance like a king surveying his battlefield.

Ahead of him, the mutated Tyrant creature, now bloated to over ten meters, erupted with fresh horror. Countless thick, writhing tentacles lashed out, tearing through buildings and spreading across the street like a virus of muscle and flesh.

In its center, the monster's upper half remained vaguely human—twisted, enlarged, grotesque.

It had entered its final stage.

It no longer had legs. Only grotesque claws nearly ten meters long, and a leech-like head lined with jagged teeth.

It roared, all its hatred now focused on Malrick.

The blast of its scream swept down the street like a hurricane, shaking cars and sending debris flying.

Malrick scowled as the wind hit his face.

"I'm not breathing in that stench."

He blurred—vanished—appearing instantly beneath the beast.

"Shut up," he muttered.

And then he punched.

It looked light. Effortless.

But the blow struck the Tyrant's jaw and shattered its grotesque head instantly—like glass under pressure.

Its entire body followed, unable to withstand the force.

Malrick had wrapped the monster in a biological force field—distributing the impact across its entire form. The result was devastating.

Buildings caught in the tendrils were torn from their foundations and launched skyward.

Chunks of black biomass, twisted steel, road, and concrete flew into the sky like confetti, propelled past the sound barrier.

Malrick didn't stop. He flew higher—another punch followed.

BOOM!

It was like a meteor had collided midair.

Everything—the Tyrant, the buildings, the streets—was obliterated. Nothing remained but debris, suspended like ash in the aftermath of a volcanic eruption.

On the ground, Jill and Carlos stood dumbfounded.

It felt like they'd blinked and the world had changed.

One second: chaos.

The next: barren ruin. The ground beneath them had cracked open to expose sewers. Asphalt and concrete had vanished.

Jill stared blankly at the shrinking figure above.

Her mind couldn't process what she'd just witnessed.

Then—

Swish.

Without warning, Malrick appeared right in front of them.

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile. "The Tyrant's body was kind of... structurally interesting. I might've overdone it."

He chuckled, waving it off.

"Sure, a few buildings got totaled—but considering everyone's already turned into zombies, I'd say property damage is the least of our problems."

He turned to leave.

"Let's split up here. Take care of the civilians, Jill. Carlos."

He shot into the air once more and waved toward the floating armor nearby.

"Come on, Jarvis. We're heading to Raccoon City Hospital."

"Master Malrick, would you like the armor deployed?"

"Why would I? I only wore it before in case I ran into kryptonite or a red sun. But in this world? There's nothing that can hurt me."

"As you wish, Master."

"Let's go. And bring the bag Tony gave me."

With that, Malrick vanished.

In an instant, he was gone—moving at speeds that surpassed sound, light, and understanding. The wind left in his wake barely rustled the sand on the street.

Carlos rubbed his eyes. "Uh... he just left?"

Jill could barely speak. "Looks like it."

"He's really the savior, isn't he?"

"I… think so."

"Did he say something about the police department?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"So what now? Subway station?"

Jill turned, her expression hardening.

"Yes. He said to rescue civilians. I'm heading to the subway."

She glanced back at Carlos.

"And I'm keeping my eye on you Umbrella types."

Even as they spoke, debris from the sky began to fall—ash-gray dust, drifting down like a quiet, deadly rain.

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