DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

In an instant, the lines were drawn.

The banquet hall, once a stage of veiled power plays, was now starkly divided.

Those who had aligned with Bardi were no longer just allies, they were his subordinates. They might have approached this arrangement with the belief that it was a lower-tier partnership, but in reality, they had placed themselves firmly under his command.

Bardi understood this maneuver well. They had chosen their side without hesitation, even pulling in three weaker families along with them. These aristocrats, so adept at reading people, had demonstrated their skill once again.

"You're quite talented at understanding human nature," Bardi remarked, a faint smile touching his lips.

He wasn't displeased by their calculations. On the contrary, he preferred those who could anticipate his expectations, who understood the boundaries without overstepping. He didn't need mindless followers; he needed subordinates who knew when to act and when to yield.

Despite what people whispered about him in the dark corners of Metropolis, he was not a man of brute force.

And yet, in the underworld, his name was spoken with a mixture of reverence and fear.

The crime syndicates, the power brokers, even the lowest thugs all called him a tyrant.

It wasn't an empty title.

He had executed those who defied his rules without hesitation.

To some, he was a guiding light in a corrupt world, a force of unwavering authority.

To others, he was a ruthless, indifferent, selfish ruler, one who crushed opposition without mercy.

Bardi saw no need to correct either perception.

He simply continued forward, executing his plans with precision.

For the nobles who had stepped away from the Family to stand beside him, this was their reality now. They had entered a new hierarchy, one where they served under him. In exchange, Bardi would give them what they desired.

He had no issue rewarding loyalty.

With a gesture, he increased their stake by 20%. The head of the Dodge family, as the first to step forward, received 30%.

The result was immediate, satisfaction spread across their faces. Smiles curled at the corners of their lips. The Dodge patriarch, in particular, looked especially pleased, throwing a smug glance at his longtime rival, the Colvin patriarch.

It was a petty victory, but one that delighted him nonetheless.

Colvin, as always, remained composed his aristocratic mask unbroken.

But the Dodge patriarch knew.

Beneath that stoic facade, Colvin had to be seething. He had lost the advantage, forced to play catch-up under the guise of etiquette.

And that was enough to make the Dodge patriarch revel in amusement.

They had spent their entire lives at war competing, maneuvering, outplaying one another. In the end, neither had ever truly won. The only remaining contest between them was survival who would live longer, whose family would endure.

Bardi observed it all, his sharp gaze catching every small movement, every flicker of rivalry.

It reminded him of something, an emperor watching his court, ensuring that the balance of power among his subjects remained intact.

This was the throne he had built.

Satisfied, he allowed himself a smile.

The banquet hall had changed irrevocably.

The power structure had shifted, reshaped entirely around Bardi. Even those who had not yet chosen a side instinctively began repositioning themselves, inching away from the Family's old guard.

Three distinct factions had emerged.

One group—the seven families—stood firmly under Bardi's banner.

The second remained with Morgan Edge, clinging to the old order, though cracks had begun to show.

The third consisted of those who had no stake in this struggle, neutral observers, minor elites, and outsiders who had come merely to witness the spectacle.

Among them was the woman in a striking purple evening gown.

Her eyes gleamed with intrigue as she watched Bardi, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her champagne glass.

Few could do what he had just done. In a single evening, he had fractured the Family and claimed a significant portion for himself. The sheer efficiency of it was… thrilling.

Yes. He was interesting.

Meanwhile, within the now-defined factions, murmurs spread.

The Family loyalists recognized what had happened.

They were no longer the undisputed ruling class of Metropolis.

The realization was bitter.

Anger simmered beneath the surface. Some could barely hold it back, their glares searing across the room at those who had betrayed them.

The hostility was tangible.

It wasn't just about power anymore, it was personal.

At the center of it all stood Morgan Edge.

His face was unreadable, but his dark complexion was taut with tension. His eyes, cold as steel, bore into Bardi with barely restrained fury.

He had tried to find out why.

Why had so many defected? What had Bardi offered them that the Family could not?

Yet, no one had answered.

Because they couldn't.

The truth was too great a risk. Even the implication of what Bardi was building, what he had promised was enough to invite intervention from the highest levels of power.

It could not be spoken aloud.

"Morgan Edge," he had said quietly. "I have led the Colvin family for fifty years, and we have only prospered. Do you know why?"

Morgan had remained silent, listening.

"It is because I follow the tide. The river flows into the ocean, and I flow with it. Those who mistake themselves for the ocean… will never taste its depths."

There had been no further explanation.

Just those words.

A warning.

A final chance to understand.

But Morgan had never been one to bend so easily.

His jaw tightened, his glare locked onto Bardi like a predator assessing its rival.

And then, Bardi moved.

He strode forward, his steps slow, deliberate.

Crossing the invisible boundary between the factions, he approached Morgan with an air of quiet inevitability.

Morgan's breath hitched for a fraction of a second.

Morgan clenched his fists.

Bardi ignored him.

Instead, he turned to Morgan's wife.

His expression softened slightly as he inclined his head.

"My apologies," he said.

The words were simple, but in them was a rare sincerity.

Had he known she was married, he would never have involved her. Bardi had his own code, and violating the sanctity of a marriage, no matter whose was beneath him.

To betray one's spouse was to betray the very foundation of commitment.

And that was something he would not do.

Morgan's wife blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback.

Then, she composed herself, offering a polite nod in return.

"It's quite alright," she said, her voice even, aristocratic.

She was well-trained in etiquette, a woman of noble upbringing. Every movement, every word, was impeccable.

Only then did Bardi finally turn his attention to Morgan.

Morgan was already staring at him, eyes filled with barely contained rage.

Morgan had fought his way up from nothing. He was shrewd, ruthless even, but in this moment, he had lost control. His entire body trembled with rage, his grip on his wife's arm tightening involuntarily.

Bardi speaking to his wife, even if only to offer a polite apology, felt like a deliberate slight. Another blatant act of disrespect. And he had endured enough.

His fury boiled over.

"Barmulodi!"

His voice was a low, guttural growl, his eyes burning with cold, violent intent.

"Do you take me for a fool? Arrogant? Conceited? Ignorant?"

"Why should I give you any respect? Why should I submit to you and join your so-called 'Family'?"

"Do you expect me to be your dog?"

Bardi remained calm. In his mind, Morgan had already been reduced to irrelevance.

From the moment Morgan had sent assassins after him, Bardi had dismissed him as nothing more than a stepping stone. A tool for Lex's development.

A challenge Lex needed to overcome.

Morgan Edge was nothing more than spring mud, the dirt that would nourish Lex Luthor's growth.

Morgan's expression twisted, veins bulging.

"You think splitting the Family will make you untouchable in Metropolis?" His voice was low, filled with quiet malice. "That's delusional."

Yes, the division was a heavy blow but the Family still held power. The wealth and influence of those who remained were not to be underestimated.

Morgan had no intention of letting Bardi establish himself without resistance.

This was just the beginning.

If Bardi thought he could run an empire unchallenged, he was gravely mistaken.

There would be a war.

The Galaxy Group versus the Universe Group.

Bardi met his glare with an easy, almost amused smile.

"Good," he said. "Your enemy is Lex Luthor, then. Use everything you have to bring him down."

Morgan's face barely had time to register the shift before Bardi continued, his voice light, almost mocking.

"And as for the assassins… I won't hold a grudge."

The smile remained on Bardi's lips, but his gaze sharpened, piercing straight through Morgan like a dagger.

For a split second, something terrifying passed between them.

Morgan's breath hitched. His muscles locked, and his body turned cold.

His throat dried, and for a fleeting moment, true fear gripped his heart.

Then, just as suddenly, the pressure lifted.

Bardi's expression eased into something almost friendly. He patted Morgan's stiffened shoulder.

"Work hard. Defeat Lex Luthor."

He chuckled lightly.

"This entire show tonight? It was his design. Do your best."

And with that, Bardi turned away, his broad frame casting a long, imposing shadow over Morgan.

Even as he walked away, Morgan could still feel the weight of his presence lingering.

It wasn't until Bardi had fully rejoined his group that Morgan's body unlocked, the invisible chains binding him finally releasing.

His knees felt weak. Sweat gathered along his brow.

His breath came ragged and uneven.

For those few seconds, his mind had been paralyzed, his entire body sinking into a formless, all-consuming dread.

He had never experienced anything like it.

What the hell had just happened?

Slowly, his body regained feeling, but the tension didn't leave him. His fingers twitched, and his narrowed eyes locked onto Bardi's retreating form.

But to everyone else watching, it was clear, he had lost this exchange.

There was no trace of the Family's dignity in him now.

The once-mighty Morgan Edge had been reduced to silence, his fury swallowed by something far more primal.

Meanwhile, Bardi returned to his newly formed faction and, as if nothing had happened, began selecting his companions for the night.

This time, he was careful, making sure each woman was single before inviting them along. He had no interest in entangling himself in anyone's marriage.

Several women eagerly accepted. Some were refined socialites, others high-class courtesans, but all carried themselves with grace and allure.

Among them, the woman in the striking purple evening dress stepped forward.

She was bold, confident, and stunningly seductive.

"Interested in spending the night with me?" she purred.

Bardi glanced at her, then shook his head.

It wasn't that she wasn't appealing—she was very appealing. But her offer was… limited.

He had already chosen multiple women for the evening. He had no reason to compromise.

He refused her bluntly.

Nearby, a group of second-generation elites, still rattled by the night's events, overheard the rejection.

Their eyes widened.

They exchanged glances.

Wait… is Bardi only into older women?

Does he have a thing for mature, sophisticated types?

A rumor began to take root in their minds.

Before Bardi could leave, an unexpected event occurred.

One of the aristocratic family heads approached him, dragging along a visibly shaken young man in a purple suit.

The younger man's slicked-back hair and arrogant demeanor had vanished, replaced by a look of abject fear.

He was one of the second-generation elites who had openly mocked Bardi earlier in the evening.

The family head spoke first, voice firm with desperation.

"My son disrespected you tonight, Mr. Bardi. I assure you, he will pay for it."

The young man visibly flinched.

"Even if I have to break his legs myself, I will not tolerate this insult."

The words were severe, but they carried weight. The noble families understood the stakes now.

Bardi considered for a moment. Then, he nodded.

"That works."

Silence fell over them.

The father and son pair froze.

The young man paled.

Wait—what?!

Was he actually going to break his legs?!

His entire body tensed.

I just said a few words, how did it come to this?!

Then, Bardi chuckled.

He had been joking.

Mostly.

But his amusement didn't reassure the young man, it only made the fear worse.

Because for all the casualness in Bardi's tone… breaking his legs did seem like something he would do without hesitation.

And that was terrifying.

Then, something unexpected happened.

The young noble pushed past his father and lowered his voice.

"Mr. Bardi," he said hesitantly. "I need to tell you something."

His voice was unsteady, but the words carried weight.

He revealed that his earlier actions, the insults, the provocation hadn't been entirely his own.

Lex had orchestrated it.

Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to guarantee a reaction. He had calculated the psychology of the old-money aristocrats, knowing how they would respond.

He had even accounted for Morgan's temperament, ensuring everything unfolded exactly as planned.

The young noble hadn't been certain at first.

But now, standing before Bardi, he realized it was true.

Lex had played everyone.

And he had played them perfectly.

The young noble had weighed his options carefully.

Lex had made him promises but Bardi was the true power behind the throne.

If he wanted real security, he needed to align himself with Bardi.

Bardi's expression remained unreadable.

He had underestimated Lex.

The boy had accounted for far more than he had initially realized.

Bardi chuckled, amused.

"What a smart boy."

Then, he gave his orders.

The young noble was to keep quiet.

As he turned to leave with his chosen companions, his driver approached, handing him a phone.

On the other end, a familiar voice spoke.

"Boss, we found kryptonite."