chapter 63: The Beast and the Tyrant

Kalibak ruminated in his underground castle. The conquest of Tamaran hadn't been as easy as he hoped, even if he had pulled it off in the end, wiping out most of the resistance.

"Damn weaklings, not knowing when they are beaten..." He growled to no one in particular, even though he wasn't alone in the hall, not that anyone could even think to dare.

It all began one day, several months prior, with Kalibak prowling in the depths of his home planet in a self-appointed exile, years of being an utter failure in Darkseid's eyes finally getting through him. He didn't wish for death, and the abominations that made the darkness their home were of no threat to him, but something in him just didn't care about living anymore. His savagery, his bloodthirst, it was all meaningless if he couldn't draw satisfaction from them, and at that point, all he could do to feel joy was try to appease his progenitor... which failed, no matter how hard he tried. He didn't care being seen as little more than a mindless beast, for he knew what he was and relished on it, but he wanted to at least be seen as useful, not a waste of genes.

But then, one day, a man, a wizard going by his robes and the fact he literally appeared out of thin air, wanted to speak to him in private to talk about something that could improve his image. This, among other reasons, stopped Kalibak from killing the man on the spot.

Except, it wasn't DeSaad, and he knew the old man enough to know it wasn't a glamour to mock him; it wasn't one of his acolytes either. Still, with that face and sneer, it was obvious he was from Apokolips, if not a New God, or at least one he knew of.

"Speak quickly, wizard? Can't you see I'm sulking in the dark?" Kalibak growled.

"What if I told you of a way to draw our master's attention, in a way that would allow you to test your prowess and cruelty, oh, mighty Kalibak?"

Prowess? Cruelty? His father's attention? "Be quick about it."

The wizard told him about a world, Tamaran. Its people were individually powerful, bestowed with strength, flight and the ability to launch attacks of pure energy from their hands among other things, but they were relatively few in number, and they weren't particularly violent either. Physically strong yet militarily weak, the perfect target for Kalibak. Better yet, despite being close to Green Lanter space, the natives had bad blood with them, so if anyone came to invade, they wouldn't receive any aid from the peacekeepers. It went both ways, however, for razing a planet was life for Apokolips' at large, and Kalibak wanted to prove his mettle.

No, Kalibak had to do it by himself... alongside his own inner circle, his personal yacht, and whatever parademons he desired. The ship's complement would be more than enough to control Tamaran; better yet, DeSaad, either out of pity or support for a possible venture, had given him the capacity to open a Boom tube in the ship, allowing him to have an endless army to throw at whoever had the audacity of drawing Apokolips' attention.

The fools thought that his obviously malicious ship was harmless, even allowing him to fly it to their orbit! Clearly, these fools had no idea of how the universe worked outside their petty planet! Fortunately, Kalibak was more than happy to teach them the ways of life. Apokolips' ways.

And then, after most of the planet was taken, and its most powerful warriors killed or on the run, Kalibak put its people through a period of terror and agony, in which his knowledge of the basic humanoid anatomy shone as he inflicted unspeakable pain on anyone he wanted to 'operate on' personally, if he didn't 'offer' them the tender mercy of his mace crushing their skulls after beating them to near death. Indeed, that was too merciful for a bunch of submissive slaves, he thought with a toothy grin.

Soon, his father would have no other option than admit that his was worthy of a bit of his approval, just enough, and that he had earned his epiphet.

And this time, there would be no kryptionian to meddle in his quest.

Currently, Kalibak was sitting on his new throne, deep in the soil of Tamaran, as his serfs worked around him. Despite his simple nature and bloodlust, and contrary to what many apokoliptians thought of him, his father included, Kalibak was not stupid: having a base into which anyone could enter with ease made the master of the keep seem stupid, and by extension whoever had raised them. He had learned that lesson in the past.

And then, lost deep in thought as he was, Kalibak was interrupted when one of the serfs called for his attention.

"Master, it appears we have uninvited guests."

Intrigued yet annoyed, Kalibak grunted. "Show it to me."

One of the holoscreens they brought from the ship came on, showing a black-haired, armored tamaranean with a furious look plowing through a rank of parademons.

Queen Komand'r herself. Stupid name, but Kalibak didn't care for that.

The return of the monarch brought a smile to Kalibak's face. Finally! Now he'd be able to both truly consolidate his hold on the planet by taking out its ruler, and inflict with the many tortures he had planned for her. After all, he had practiced them on that oaf he had buried under corpses.

"So, the coward has returned! Finally. Tell the shipmaster to not intervene, she's mine." He said to the same slave.

"Master, your ship... It's not responding." The serf replied.

Kalibak huffed in anger. "The fool will face my wrath, then."

"No, master. The ship's not responding to the calls."

Kalibak's eyes widened as he looked at the slave. His ship, just like many other apokoliptian constructs, was alive and intelligent, enough to ignore the shipmaster on board to obey any of Kalibak's whims as long as they had his signature; the shipmaster was there exclusively to guard it, even when Kalibak was away. That it didn't respond in any way...

"That... That can only mean one thing."

Inmediately Kalibak jumped from his throne, the slave wriggling in his clawed hand. If something had happened to the vessel...

"What. Do. You. Mean." He asked in a low, threatening voice. Usually he'd roared the question, but the circumstances made it come as a whisper.

"It... it has been... destroyed."

"By whom, you miserable wretch?!" Kalibak roared as he shook the little thing around, not caring that he could snap its neck.

The serf's continuous hacking reminded Kalibak that it needed to breathe, if only to speak, and thus he released it.

"A... a kryptonian, by the looks of it."

Kalibak's eyes slowly widened in a growing horror. There were only two kryptonians still alive after the destruction of their world, and only one of them was strong enough to destroy a ship by his lonesome.

"We have visuals!" A serf cried out.

"Show me!" Kalibak roared

And then, through the hardlight screen, he saw him, drapped in that stupid red cape of his... and a human in armor, and a machine, and many more machines, and...

Superman! The bastard of Krypton was there, and he had brought an entire army with him!

Kalibak watched in trepidation as the so-called Man of Steel tore parademons apart with his bare hands, burned them with his eyes, or outright flew through them, a look of determined anger on his face. Apparently his unwillingness to kill didn't apply to parademons, or Kalibak's actions had forced his hand. The others, while nowhere as powerful, were still more than a match for his army.

And then there were his other, closest companions, the ones with him at the moment: a gray-skinned, cadaveric giant, at least twice the height and ten times the weight of the kryptonian, who was clearly enjoying the destruction he was causing, and an armored warrior, who unlike the other two used weapons, large contraptions not disimilar to what Earth's resistance used during the occupation, except much, much bigger and clearly more powerful. Any desire of ripping their faces off and eating them died when he watched as both helped Kal-El tear his ship, and its crew, from the inside out, all a mere cosmical unit away from Tamaran.

Except, going by the time of their arrival and the location, it hadn't moved by itself.

"Rewind!" Kalibak roared, the hologram doing so.

Those in the hall watched in a mix of fascination and horror as a blue vortex swallowed the ship, taking it far from Tamaran, before the trio destroyed it.

"They have Boom tubes!" A serf screamed in terror before another attacked him. The mere thought of someone not of Darkseid's bloodline or his inner circle possessing such magic was blasphemy.

Kalibak swallowed hard. Either that wizard lied to him to send him to his death, or wanted to make Kalibak prove his mettle against powerful enemies. Both possibilities were equally enraging, but the latter had the benefit of having a benevolent goal, if it could be called such.

There was also the fact that his father would not tolerate anyone but himself killing the kryptonian, if they were capable of such a feat. Kalibak was somewhat eager to fight the hero to test his power, but he did not want to incur Darkseid's wrath.

The others would had been fair game, but the fact they seemed to match the kryptonian in strength, and definitely surpassed him in ferocity, made him pause.

What should he do? What could he do?! Kill the interlopers, take the kryptonian prisoner, then bring him to his father? Nigh impossible, but not fully unfeasible. Go in raging and hope he can cause enough damage before they brought him down? Blow up the fortress, whose energy source was powerful enough to kill everything in the contnent, as an act of spite?

"Master, what do we do?" One of the serfs asked, terrified out of its wits.

"Maybe we should call Apo-" The wretch who opened his jaws didn't have time for anything before Kalibak sent his mace through his skull.

"No one shall call Apokolips!" Kalibak roared, spittle flying from his mouth. "This is my fight, mine alone!"

Far away, deep in the darkness of the sublevels of Apokolips, a red-eyed titan and a robed figure watched Kalibak break down half a galaxy away, the titan's eyes narrowing in derisive anger at the display of the brute.

"I still can't believe he's blood." The giant muttered in annoyance as he watched. Kalibak may had been the last vestiges of Suli, and his heart was already hard to begin with, but the fool's constant failures had finally made him think he wasn't worthy of living, nor being killed properly, but he didn't want to waste his strength. Either he became strong enough to warrant aproval, or he died like the rest. He did like the suffering he inflicted upon Tamaran, but that didn't correlate to either power or aproval.

The warlock at his side chuckled. Had Darkseid been a mortal and better man, he'd found it unsettling. "And soon, if he doesn't become what he's supposed to be, he shall not." His haggard appearance belied an incredible power and depravation, one that Darkseid could actually respect, even if he could still send him to oblivion with but a flick. "Just remember our deal, oh, great destructor."

Darkseid nodded. "Trigon will get his daughter, as long as I get his word that he won't pester me anymore." Demons and their ilk, he could intimidate into fleeing or submitting, even the most powerful. But Trigon, an actual deity who simply happened to reside in the Nether? He'd accost his might out of spite. Had he asked for the ceasefire any other time, he'd killed the messanger and delivered his head in person, but for what he had planned he needed to focus without distractions, and so he accepted, plans to get the most of the deal nonwithstanding.

The warlock nodded, and with that, he went back to his master's side, leaving Darkseid to watch Kal-El and his companions make a mockery of Kalibak's (and by extension, his) army while the runt hid and panicked.

The armored warrior... He intrigued him, to say the least. Anyone else would had seen him as just another kryptonian, if a big one, but trying to fool Darkseid was like trying to fool Death: it was just impossible. And what he saw, thanks to a filter in the window, intrigued him: a fellow god, one who seemed to be more than happy to get his hands dirty. As for the giant undead, he oozed of elemental power, enough to make him an equal of the god. Each would be a match for him, mighty foes, if he'd bother to actually fight them.

Then there was Trigon's daughter, a gray-skinned, purple-haired beauty whose skin hid a power. Apparently she resided with the god and the giant in the former's fortress. He had been tempted on turning her into a Fury, but Trigon's spite would bee too much of an annoyance. Getting her would warrant an epic worthy of being told througout an eon, but it could be done; all that was needed was trickery, something Darkseid was very proficient in using.

Again, he could afford to wait.