Chapter 37: Mr. President, Your Flight Is Delayed!
Long Island, Private Estate.
When Arthur's feet touched his land.
At the entrance of the Villa, a row of beauties who had been waiting for a long time.
Instantly burst into loud cheers.
"Homelander!"
"My God! It's the living Homelander!"
"Welcome home! Hero!"
The beauties cheered one after another.
Arthur adjusted his wrinkle-free Stars and Stripes Cape.
A smile full of tolerance and love hung on his face.
He waved to the group of beauties.
"Good afternoon, ladies."
"Sorry to keep you waiting."
Arthur's voice was magnetic and gentle, making the women present feel weak in the knees:
"But I think you've seen the news, there are a lot of bad guys in Miami, and for the safety of the American people, I had to be delayed for a while."
"Oh! You are so great!"
A blonde woman excitedly covered her chest:
"We all saw it! You were like a God descending! Those bad guys were like ants in front of you!"
"Yes! Only you can protect us!"
Facing these fervent flatteries, Arthur just waved his hand modestly, but the hint of enjoyment in his eyes could not be hidden.
"This is what I should do."
"With great power comes great responsibility."
After speaking, he turned his head and looked at the Real Estate Sales Manager who had been waiting beside him.
"Mr. Arthur, do you have any instructions?"
Arthur snapped his fingers, took out a Black Card from his Huai and handed it over with two fingers.
"Since the house is bought, someone has to take care of it."
"Go, contact the best Butler Team in New York, I want those who have served royalty."
"Also. Now, immediately, right away."
"Go and clear out all the 82 lafite in all the wineries in New York for me."
"At least 100 bottles."
"Tonight, I'm hosting a dinner party here."
The sales manager's hand trembled, almost dropping the card.
100 bottles of 82 lafite?
How much would that cost?!
"Yes! Yes! I'll go do it right away! I guarantee you'll be satisfied!"
The sales manager, as if holding a Gold Ingot, scrambled to make a call.
As long as this deal was done, the commission alone would allow him to buy an apartment in Manhattan!
...
In this money-driven society, as long as the money is in place, efficiency is often surprisingly high.
While waiting for the fine wine and butlers to arrive.
Arthur certainly wouldn't be idle.
"Well, ladies."
Arthur unbuttoned the collar of his Battle Suit, revealing his strong muscle lines.
His eyes scanned every exquisitely dressed beauty present:
"Since everyone is so enthusiastic, why don't we go to the pool to relax first?"
"I think it's such a beautiful sunny day, it would be a pity not to soak up some Sun."
A few minutes later.
The huge Infinity Pool in the backyard of the Villa was filled with laughter.
Arthur, wearing Blue Swim Trunks, lay on his back on the water, shirtless.
Water droplets slid down his perfectly sculpted muscles, like a Greek statue.
The Sun shone on him, charging him up.
Around him, the beauties were either swimming or playing in the Water.
But their eyes never left this man.
"Mr. Arthur, do you need sunscreen?"
A woman with long silver-White hair and a black Bikini swam over.
Felicia Hardy.
This cunning little wildcat clearly knew better than others how to seize an opportunity.
She held a bottle of Sunscreen Oil in her hand, looking at Arthur seductively.
Her fingers intentionally or unintentionally stroked the Water, creating ripples.
"Although your skin looks indestructible, the Sun is too harsh, so it's always good to take care of it."
Arthur slightly opened his eyes, looking at the woman in front of him whose figure was so hot it was practically illegal.
His mind was as clear as a mirror.
Sunscreen?
Applying sunscreen to him, who had bathed in the core of the Sun for four months?
"Alright."
Arthur lazily turned over, lying face down on the Air Mattress, pointing to his back:
"Then I'll trouble you, Miss Hardy."
A hint of triumphant joy flashed in Felicia's eyes.
She swam to Arthur's side and poured the Sunscreen Oil into her palm.
Then she gently pressed it onto that broad and firm back.
The feel was amazingly good.
Firm, yet full of elasticity.
Felicia's fingers slid along the muscle lines, massaging and whispering softly:
"I saw on the news that the Terrorists are planning an even bigger attack?"
"Aren't you worried at all?"
Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the soft, boneless hands on his back, and the corners of his mouth slightly curved upwards.
"Worried?"
"Why should I worry?"
"In this World, only the weak worry about tomorrow."
"And I..."
Arthur turned over, grabbed Felicia's wrist, and pulled her closer.
Their noses were almost touching.
Felicia could even feel the scorching aura emanating from this man, like a blazing Sun.
"I am tomorrow."
"As long as I want, those so-called Terrorists, even if they hide in hell, I can drag them out and dry them."
Felicia's heart skipped a beat.
This is power.
Absolute, intoxicating power!
She felt her legs go a little soft.
"You...you are so domineering."
Felicia's eyes were hazy, and she instinctively wanted to lean into Arthur's arms.
However, Arthur let go at this moment and lay back down.
"Okay, the sunscreen is well applied."
"You can go get a drink over there, I want some quiet."
Felicia was stunned for a moment, then gave this insensitive man a slightly resentful look.
But she didn't dare to cause trouble and obediently swam away.
Arthur sneered inwardly.
Little trickster.
Playing hard to get with me?
I am Homelander, not some horny fool.
What you can't get always stirs desire, what's too easy is boring.
Besides, the night is long.
...
Night fell.
The entire Long Island estate was lit up, like a Crystal Palace by the sea.
That sales manager really didn't brag.
A professional Butler Team of twenty people had taken over the operation of the Villa.
The long dining table was covered with a White tablecloth, and silver Candlesticks flickered with faint light.
100 bottles of 82 lafite were neatly arranged on the Wine Rack next to it.
The overwhelming scent of money was even more intoxicating than the aroma of the wine.
Arthur sat at the head of the long table.
He had changed into a comfortable Silk Bathrobe, his collar slightly open, and he was swirling a glass of red wine in his hand.
And on both sides of the dining table.
More than twenty exquisitely dressed beauties sat upright.
Each person had an exquisite French Feast in front of them.
But the minds of these women were clearly not on the food.
"Mr. Arthur, I toast you!"
"To the hero of America!"
"To tonight!"
One by one, the beauties came forward with wine glasses, trying their best to attract Arthur's attention.
Some deliberately bent over to reveal deep cleavage, while others frantically flirted with their expressive eyes.
Arthur accepted all comers.
He drained his glass.
Anyway, with his physique, it was no different from drinking grape juice.
Watching Arthur smile at every woman.
He even casually put his arm around a blonde and joked a few words.
Felicia, sitting a little further back, couldn't sit still.
She gritted her teeth.
These common women, are they worthy of competing with her?
She stood up, picked up her wine glass, and walked to Arthur's side with an elegant cat-like stride.
She didn't rush to toast like the others.
Instead, she directly picked up the Decanter on the table and personally filled Arthur's wine glass.
Her movements were elegant, and her eyes were focused.
"I see you seem to prefer the taste after decanting for thirty minutes."
Felicia said softly:
"Just like some things, you need to wait patiently to taste the most wonderful flavor, don't you agree?"
These words had a very strong double meaning.
Arthur looked up at this clever woman and smiled.
"You understand very well."
He raised his wine glass and clinked it with Felicia's:
"Indeed, patience is a virtue."
"I hope your patience brings you rewards."
Felicia's heart swelled with joy; she felt she had made the right gamble.
This man liked smart people, and even more, ambitious smart people.
However.
Just as the banquet was about to end, and everyone was slightly tipsy.
Arthur put down his Knife and Fork.
He elegantly wiped his mouth with a Napkin.
The entire room instantly fell silent, everyone looking at him expectantly.
Especially Felicia, who straightened her back, full of confidence.
Arthur looked around, his gaze sweeping over every woman's face.
Finally, he stood up and stretched.
"Tonight's wine is good, the food is good."
"The people are even better."
He snapped his fingers, a smile appearing on his face:
"So, making choices is too troublesome."
"I, for one, hate making choices."
"Tonight..."
"All of you stay."
"Come to my room."
As soon as these words were spoken, the whole room was in an uproar.
The beauties were first stunned, then one by one, expressions of surprise and even ecstasy appeared on their faces.
Homelander is going to have an impart?!
This not only didn't make them disgusted but instead made them feel a strange thrill and honor!
To be chosen by such a God, even if it was shared, it was still a form of capital!
Only Felicia.
Her smile froze on her face.
Everyone?
To lump her, a top-tier thief, with these common women?
This was an insult!
But when she saw Arthur's smiling yet unsmiling eyes, which seemed to see through everything.
Her little bit of pride instantly shattered.
She understood.
In front of this man, she had no right to bargain.
Either join, or get out.
Felicia took a deep breath and drank the red wine in her glass in one gulp.
The fighting spirit reignited in her cat-like eyes.
So what if there were many people?
Since we're playing, I'll be the most outstanding one!
"It's an honor, my hero."
Felicia was the first to stand up, walked to Arthur's side, and linked her arm through his.
...
At the same time.
Thousands of kilometers away.
A certain Air Force Base under the cover of night.
A steel Battle Suit painted in the colors of the Stars and Stripes—Iron Patriot.
That is, Colonel James Rhodes.
Was tracking The Mandarin's signal.
However, what he didn't know was.
This was simply a trap.
"Zzz—"
In the darkness, a scorching, red-hot hand suddenly grabbed the Battle Suit's ankle.
Immediately after.
Seven or eight Extremis Soldiers, glowing red with high temperature, rushed out of the Shadow.
"Who is that?!" Rhodes was greatly alarmed.
But before he could activate the weapon system.
That red-hot hand had already melted the Battle Suit's joint power system with its terrifying high temperature.
"For The Mandarin! For Killian!"
The bald man leading the group grinned sinisterly and forcibly tore open the Battle Suit's mask.
On this muggy night.
Not only was Homelander reveling.
The villains also began their final frenzy.
"Take the Battle Suit away!"
"Now, we have the key to enter Air Force One!"
"Mr. President, your flight is delayed!"
Chapter 38: The President is in Trouble!
Tens of thousands of feet in the sky.
Iron Patriot was soaring through the sky at an extremely high speed.
However, beneath that cold metal faceplate at this moment.
It wasn't the upright Colonel Rhodes, but Erik Savin, Killian's top enforcer.
His eyes flickered with the dark red glow characteristic of Extremis, and a cruel smile played on his lips.
"This feeling is truly amazing."
Erik looked at the light dot on the radar representing Air Force One.
He lightly pressed the accelerator button for the thrusters.
With this suit, which represented the highest trust of the U.S. Military.
He easily passed all security identification codes.
Ten minutes later.
Inside Air Force One, chaos reigned.
The President was picked up like a small chicken amidst the horrified bodies of his bodyguards.
"Mr. President, your flight has been rescheduled."
Erik's modified voice came through the faceplate, laced with deep mockery.
Immediately after, he activated the suit's thrusters, smashing through the plane's cabin wall.
Carrying the most powerful man in the World, he vanished into the vast night.
Leaving behind only a runaway Air Force One plummeting, and the entire United States on the verge of panic.
...
The next day, early morning.
Inside a luxurious manor on Long Island.
Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the expensive velvet curtains, falling onto the extra-large soft bed that could accommodate more than twenty people.
The air was still filled with the lingering scent of extravagance from last night's revelry.
On the bed, those usually unattainable socialites and young models.
Were now like boneless invertebrates, all sleeping soundly, unable to even move a finger.
Except for one person.
Felicia Hardy.
This Black Cat, with her astonishing physique, held a cup of freshly brewed hot coffee in her hand.
She walked in from outside, her long legs striding.
"Good morning, my hero."
Felicia walked to the bedside.
Looking at Arthur, who had already opened his eyes, a lazy and contented smile appeared on her face.
She placed the coffee on the bedside table, then naturally knelt by the bed.
Reaching out her hands, she gently massaged Arthur's temples.
"You really wore everyone out last night."
Felicia's voice carried a hint of husky allure.
Now, she was the only woman who could still stand and maintain her elegance to serve Homelander.
This was enough to explain her status.
Arthur leaned against the headboard, enjoying this top-tier service, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Not bad."
He reached out and pinched Felicia's chin, looking at this ambitious woman:
"It seems your stamina is better than I imagined."
"Of course."
Felicia took the opportunity to rub against Arthur's palm like a cat:
"As long as you need me, I'm always available."
Just as the ambiguous atmosphere was growing thicker, and Arthur was about to have a morning workout.
"Buzz—buzz—"
The encrypted phone on the bedside table vibrated frantically at a most inopportune moment.
Arthur frowned, and his interest instantly dissipated by more than half.
He picked up the phone and looked.
Tony Stark.
"Tsk, this rich dog really knows how to pick a time."
Arthur answered the call somewhat impatiently.
Before he could even speak, Tony's anxious, almost explosive voice came from the other end.
"John! Where are you?! Still sleeping?!"
"Something big has happened! Something huge!"
Tony's voice was accompanied by loud wind noise and engine roars, indicating he was moving at high speed.
"The President was kidnapped! Last night! That damned fake Iron Patriot attacked Air Force One!"
"Now the entire White House is going crazy! S.H.I.E.L.D. and the FBI are running around like headless chickens!"
"We need you! Now! Immediately!"
Arthur moved the phone away slightly, picked at his ear, and a cold, knowing smile appeared on his face.
Finally here?
It was slightly slower than he had anticipated.
"Relax, Tony."
Arthur slowly took a sip of coffee:
"It's just a kidnapped President? What's the big deal?"
"Hollywood makes several movies about saving the President every year."
"You're Iron Man, since you know the news, why don't you go save him?"
"Do you have to trouble me, Homelander, with such a small matter?"
Tony on the other end was clearly choked, and after two seconds of silence, he erupted into a louder roar:
"That's the President! Not the old lady next door!"
"And that lunatic Killian has hundreds of Extremis Soldiers! He's also on an oil tanker full of oil!"
"I only have a few suits still in testing! How am I supposed to handle this?!"
"I believe in you, Tony."
Arthur's voice was full of that infuriating encouragement:
"You're a genius, a billionaire, a playboy."
"This small scene won't stump you."
"Go on, fight like a true hero."
"When you really can't hold on, I might consider coming to save the day for you."
After speaking, Arthur didn't give Tony a chance to curse, and directly hung up the phone.
Want me to go now?
What a joke.
The excitement had just begun, and the despair hadn't fermented to its peak.
If he went now, wouldn't the shock of a savior descending from the sky be greatly diminished?
What he was waiting for was the globally televised execution moment.
That moment when everyone desperately screamed.
That was the best time to harvest popularity points!
He had just hung up the phone for less than two seconds.
"Buzz—"
The phone rang again.
This time it was an unknown number, but Arthur could guess who it was with his eyes closed.
"Hello, Director Fury."
Arthur answered the phone, his tone full of impatience:
"If you're also calling about that trivial matter with the President, then spare me."
"Arthur."
Nick Fury's voice was deep and suppressed, like a volcano about to erupt:
"This is a national crisis! As a member of the Avengers, you have an obligation..."
"Obligation?"
Arthur sneered, interrupting him:
"Fury, I think you've got one thing wrong."
"I'm here to be a superhero, not a babysitter for your S.H.I.E.L.D.."
"Just a few Terrorists, if your S.H.I.E.L.D. can't even handle that, what are your ten thousand Agents doing? Cosplaying?"
"Don't bother me with every little trivial matter."
"I'm very busy."
"Beep—beep—"
Fury listened to the busy signal, so angry he almost crushed the special encrypted phone.
Trivial matter?!
The President is about to be barbecued, and that's trivial?!
Meanwhile, in the manor's bedroom.
Arthur casually tossed his phone aside and got out of bed.
He glanced at Felicia, who was looking at him with adoration.
"You can go now."
Arthur said indifferently:
"Leave your private number."
"When I have time, I'll call you again."
"Okay, my hero."
She stood up very sensibly and wrote down a phone number.
Even before leaving, she boldly stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed Arthur's cheek.
"I await your call."
Watching Felicia's swaying figure as she left, Arthur nodded in satisfaction.
This woman truly knew her place.
Then.
He turned around and looked at the pile of women still sleeping on the bed, his brows slightly furrowed.
"Tsk, what a hassle."
He didn't want these common beauties to linger in his mansion.
"Butler!"
Arthur called out towards the door:
"Send all these people away, and give each of them a severance package."
"Also, change my bedsheets, to the best Egyptian cotton."
After dealing with these trivial matters.
Arthur, wearing only swimming trunks, walked out onto the balcony.
Today's Sun was exceptionally bright, with not a cloud in the sky.
"Nice weather."
Arthur stretched.
Boom!
He tapped his toes, and his entire body instantly shot into the sky, hovering ten thousand meters high.
He closed his eyes and spread his arms.
He indulged in the bath of solar radiation, every cell in his body greedily devouring energy.
While charging, he activated his Super Hearing and Super Vision.
His gaze crossed thousands of kilometers, locking onto an abandoned port in Florida.
There.
A drama grand enough to shock the World was unfolding.
...
Florida, Pensacola Port.
Night fell, and a huge abandoned oil tanker was docked by the shore.
The deck of the oil tanker was brightly lit.
Hundreds of fully armed mercenaries and Extremis Soldiers stood ready.
And on the most conspicuous crane arm.
The U.S. President, who always appeared on TV news.
Was being hoisted high in the air like a salted fish.
"Are you ready?"
Aldrich Killian wore an expensive custom-made suit.
A manic smile of complete control was on his face.
He adjusted his tie, facing the camera lens in front of him.
"This is my masterpiece."
"This is the gift I will give to this World."
"Go live!"
With an order.
The signal instantly connected to all channels worldwide.
And in the clouds several kilometers away.
A pitch-black quinjet was in stealth mode, rapidly approaching.
Inside the cabin.
Tony Stark wore a makeshift battlesuit.
Beside him sat Captain America, holding his shield, Hawkeye, checking his arrows, and Natasha, wiping her Widow's Bites.
"One minute until we reach target airspace," the pilot reported.
"Everyone, this will be a tough fight."
Captain America said in a deep voice, his gaze firm:
"We are facing a group of madmen who can self-destruct."
"But for the President, for the country, we must win."
Tony didn't speak.
He just stared intently at the live broadcast on the screen.
On the screen.
Killian walked to the camera with a sinister grin.
He reached out and tore off the mask from the President's head.
Revealing the President's face, twisted with fear.
Then.
Killian pulled out a gleaming tactical dagger from his pocket and twirled it in his hand.
He looked at the camera, at billions of viewers around the World.
And displayed a devilish smile:
"Good evening, America."
"Tonight."
"I will represent God, represent a new evolution."
"And execute your President here!"
Chapter 39: Call Homelander to Save Your President!
Pensacola Port, Florida.
The night was as dark as ink, but the lights here burned half the sky crimson.
A huge abandoned oil tanker lay by the shore.
The deck was densely packed with fully armed mercenaries and Extremis Soldiers whose bodies glowed red.
And thousands of meters above.
A quinjet in stealth mode was rapidly shuttling through the clouds.
Inside the cabin.
Tony Stark stared intently at the live broadcast on the screen.
His caramel-colored eyes were bloodshot.
On the screen, Killian, who called himself The Mandarin, was holding a knife and gesturing it across the President's face.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
Tony slammed his fist on the console:
"How much longer until contact?"
"Ten seconds!" The pilot's voice trembled.
"I can't wait!"
Tony suddenly stood up, his armor clanking.
He turned to look at his teammates behind him.
Steve Rogers gripped his shield tightly, his resolute face filled with determination.
"Captain, you know what this means."
Tony's voice was hoarse:
"Below are all exploding madmen; we might really not come back this time."
"Then let them see how hard the Avengers' bones are."
Captain America didn't hesitate, walking directly to the cabin door:
"For the President, for the people."
"Move out!"
The cabin door opened.
A fierce wind instantly rushed into the cabin.
The moment the quinjet disengaged stealth mode.
It was immediately locked onto by heavy thermal cannons already set up on the ground.
"Boom—!!!"
With a loud bang, the quinjet's left wing was directly melted off by a high-temperature energy beam.
The fuselage shook violently, and alarm bells blared throughout the cabin.
"Hold on! We're crashing!"
The pilot yelled in terror.
"No time to find a landing spot, just jump!"
Steve Rogers roared, not even wearing a parachute.
He only protected himself with the Vibranium shield and leaped down without hesitation.
And behind him.
"Jarvis, full thrust! Take that old-fashioned archer and the female Agent down!"
Tony Stark grabbed Natasha with one hand and Barton's tactical vest with the other.
He forcefully broke through the ground's firepower.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The three crashed heavily onto the deck.
Before they could even stand firm.
From the shadows of the surrounding containers, dozens of Extremis Soldiers, glowing with an orange-red high temperature, roared and pounced.
"This is what they call evolution?"
Natasha rolled to dodge a scorching fist.
Her Widow's Bite crackled, delivering a powerful shock to an enemy's neck.
But this current, enough to stun an elephant, only made these Extremis Soldiers pause for a second.
"Damn it! Their recovery ability is too fast!"
Barton's bow fired continuously, and explosive arrows detonated among the crowd.
But it could only slightly impede the advance of these madmen.
"We can't hold them off much longer!"
Just at this critical moment.
"Whoosh—!!!"
A familiar engine roar came from the sky.
A steel figure, painted with the Stars and Stripes, descended like a divine soldier, smashing heavily into the enemy ranks!
The Gatling cannon on his shoulder spun wildly, spitting fire, instantly tearing three Extremis Soldiers in front of him to shreds.
"Sorry, I'm late!"
The faceplate opened, revealing Colonel Rhodes's sweaty but incredibly resolute face.
He had just managed to snatch back his Iron Patriot Armor from the mercenaries in the chaos.
"Rhodes! That suit of yours is really flashy!"
Tony jabbed verbally, but his hands didn't stop moving.
The two brothers stood back-to-back, their repulsor rays and Gatling guns forming a deadly crossfire.
"That's to match Homelander's taste! Stop talking nonsense, another group is coming from the left!"
Rhodes roared, his shoulder cannon thundering.
For a moment, the deck was ablaze with fire, and severed limbs flew everywhere.
The arrival of the Avengers temporarily stabilized the battle.
But Killian's Extremis Soldiers were simply too numerous.
Moreover, these madmen were not afraid of Death; once severely injured, they would rush up and embrace the Avengers, self-destructing!
"Boom!"
Another violent explosion.
Captain America was thrown back by the blast, crashing heavily into the crane's support, a trace of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
But he didn't even bother to wipe it, because his gaze was firmly fixed on the highest platform of the oil tanker.
There, Aldrich Killian, dressed in an expensive white suit, stood elegantly before the camera.
And behind him.
The bound U.S. President hung in mid-air, with a rolling sea of fire beneath his feet.
"Steve! Go save the President! Leave this to us!"
Tony blasted away the enemies in front of him with a cluster cannon, shouting at Captain America.
Captain America nodded, raising his shield.
Like a human tank, he forcefully carved a path through the sea of fire.
However.
The moment he rushed onto the high platform.
Killian turned around, a disdainful smile on his face.
"Captain America? Heh, a relic of the old era."
Killian didn't even make a move.
His body instantly glowed with a dazzling, high-temperature red light.
He appeared before Captain America as if teleporting, kicking the Vibranium shield.
"Clang—!!!"
The terrifying high temperature instantly transferred.
Captain America felt as if a train had hit him, and he was uncontrollably sent flying backward.
He fell directly onto the lower deck.
"These are your so-called superheroes?"
Killian adjusted his slightly disheveled collar, his tone full of mockery as he faced the camera:
"Easily defeated."
At this moment.
In the global live broadcast.
Billions of viewers witnessed Captain America being knocked away and Iron Man being besieged.
Despair instantly spread to every corner of the World.
"It's over... even the Avengers lost..."
"Oh God, who will save the President? Who will save us?"
In front of their screens, countless people covered their mouths, tears streaming down their faces.
Just then.
Someone, somewhere, let out the first cry on the internet.
"Where's Homelander?! Where is our Homelander?!"
This cry, like a prairie fire, instantly ignited the hope in everyone's hearts.
"That's right! There's still Homelander!"
"He must be on his way! He has never disappointed us!"
"Homelander! Appear quickly! Kill all these monsters!"
Queens, New York.
Peter Parker stared intently at the TV screen, his small hands clutching the corner of his clothes.
"Homelander brother... you'll definitely come, right?"
"You're the strongest hero!"
...
Ten thousand meters above the sky.
Clouds surged.
Arthur floated in the stratosphere, his red Stars and Stripes cape hanging silently behind him.
His eyes were slightly closed, his Super Hearing pushed to the limit.
Countless sounds converged into a mighty torrent, rushing into his eardrums.
That was a call.
That was a prayer.
That was the purest desire and worship from the hearts of hundreds of millions of people.
[Ding! Detected extreme anticipation and fervent faith globally!]
[Ding! popularity points +50000!]
[Ding! popularity points +80000!]
[Ding! popularity points +120000...]
Arthur suddenly opened his eyes.
A smile, extremely benign and full of pleasure, slowly appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"That's right."
"Shout a little louder."
"Call your hero, Homelander, to save your President!"
Arthur lowered his head.
His Super Vision instantly pierced through layers of clouds and mist, locking onto the tiny, ant-like port thousands of kilometers away.
There, Killian had already pulled out a tactical dagger from his In my arms.
He faced the camera, revealing a devilish smile.
"Goodbye, Mr. President."
Killian raised the dagger high, its blade glinting coldly in the firelight.
Then, he swung it down fiercely!
Audiences worldwide held their breath at this moment.
"No—!!!"
However.
Just one-thousandth of a second before the sharp blade was about to touch the President's neck.
Boom!!!
Above the firmament.
A terrifying sonic boom instantly erupted!
All the glass in New York shattered at this moment!
A golden streak of light descended from the sky!
That was...
Light speed!
"Bang!"
Time seemed to stand still at this moment.
Killian only felt a blur before his eyes.
Immediately after, an indescribable sharp pain came from his wrist.
His arm, which held the dagger and had been enhanced by the Extremis, capable of melting even steel.
Had, in an instant.
Vanished into thin air!
Chapter 40: It's Settled Then, Mr. President
"Ah—!!!"
A bloodcurdling scream instantly pierced the night sky of the harbor.
It was Killian.
The madman who, just seconds ago, was arrogant and threatened to execute the President.
Now, he was clutching his bare wrist, stumbling backward.
Not a single drop of blood flowed from the severed limb, scorched by the high-temperature Heat Vision.
And in the spot where his severed hand had held the dagger,
a golden figure was quietly hovering.
Even in this hellish scene of intertwining darkness and fire,
his dark blue battle suit and the Star-Spangled Banner cape fluttering behind him,
still appeared so sacred, so inviolable.
Arthur slightly tilted his head.
He glanced at the President, who was suspended in mid-air and utterly terrified, his face drained of color.
A warm, pleasant smile appeared on his face.
"Good evening, Mr. President."
"It seems I've arrived just in time."
At this moment,
through the live broadcast signal that had not been cut,
all the viewers around the World watching their screens witnessed this scene.
That figure, like a God descended.
That man who, with just one blow, incapacitated the Terrorists.
Whether in Times Square in New York, Trafalgar Square in London, or in the living room of every ordinary family,
everyone gasped sharply.
Then, a deafening cheer erupted!
"Homelander!!!"
"My God! He's really here!"
"Kill those Terrorists!!"
[Ding! Detecting fervent faith and worship worldwide!]
[Ding! popularity points +50000!]
[Ding! popularity points +80000!]
[Ding! popularity points +100000...]
Listening to the system notifications in his mind, which pulsed like a casino slot machine spitting out coins,
Arthur's smile deepened.
He slowly descended onto the platform, looking at Killian, who was still wailing, with not a trace of pity in his eyes.
Only indifference, as if looking at trash.
"You... you..."
Killian's face was covered in cold sweat, and the madness in his eyes was replaced by fear.
His proud Extremis regeneration ability had completely failed under that absolutely high-temperature incision!
"Shhh."
Arthur raised a finger and gently pressed it to his lips.
"Don't scream so loudly, it's unpleasant."
"Didn't you want a live broadcast?"
"Didn't you want to teach America a lesson?"
Arthur pointed at the still-working camera lens, his voice gentle yet tinged with bone-chilling coldness:
"Now, the whole World is watching."
"As the protagonist of this show, you need to act with more dignity."
At this moment,
Tony Stark, who had climbed up from the deck below, pushed open his broken faceplate.
He looked at Arthur on the high platform, and although he breathed a huge sigh of relief, he still spoke sharply.
"Hey! Big Shot!"
Tony shouted loudly:
"Do you always have to wait until the last second to make an appearance? My heart can't handle this kind of excitement!"
"And if you had come any later, I would have had to collect Rhodes' body!"
Beside him, Captain America, equally disheveled, also stood up, leaning on his shield.
Looking at Arthur's spotless cape, Captain America gave a wry smile:
"Though I hate to admit it, you really know how to pick your timing, John."
Arthur ignored their complaints.
He simply turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow at his comrades below.
"Good food is worth waiting for, Tony."
"And..."
Arthur turned his head back, looking at Killian again.
Two crimson lights began to converge in his eyes, and the surrounding air instantly distorted from the high temperature.
"With me here,"
"the President won't die."
"As for these Terrorists..."
"Not one of them will escape!"
Killian felt the threat of Death.
The Extremis in his body began to rage wildly, his body instantly glowing with a blinding red light, and his temperature soared to the extreme!
"Then let's all die together!!!"
Killian roared, throwing himself desperately at Arthur, trying to detonate himself.
"Die?"
Arthur sneered.
"In this World, you only have the right to die if I allow you to."
Sizzle—!!!
Without any unnecessary words,
two golden-red Heat Visions instantly erupted!
Their speed was so fast that even the camera's frame rate couldn't capture it.
That was tens of millions of degrees of high temperature, fused with the energy of the Sun's core!
Poof!
With a soft sound,
Killian's still-grinning head instantly vaporized in the air!
Not even a speck of dust remained!
The headless body, still running, even stumbled forward two steps due to inertia.
Only then did it fall to its knees with a "thud" before Arthur.
As if saluting this god among men.
The entire scene was silent.
Only the flapping sound of the cape in the sea breeze.
"Done."
Arthur withdrew his gaze, the red light in his eyes slowly dissipating.
He waved his hand casually.
An invisible wind blade cut the steel cable suspending the President.
Then, as if teleporting, he appeared in mid-air and caught the falling President with one hand.
"Mr. President, it's a bit bumpy, bear with it."
After speaking, his figure flashed.
He directly descended to the deck below with the President, and casually handed the old man, who was already weak-kneed with fright, to Captain America.
"He's all yours, Captain."
"This is your specialty."
Immediately after.
Arthur did not stop.
He slowly ascended, hovering at a height of dozens of meters.
He overlooked the entire oil tanker from above.
The Extremis Soldiers who were originally entangled with the Avengers panicked when they saw their leader instantly killed.
"Run! Run!"
"He's a monster!"
These desperadoes finally felt fear and began to scatter, some even jumping directly into the sea.
"Run?"
Arthur looked at these ants, a cruel smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"In my BGM, no one can escape."
Bang!
The air exploded!
Arthur moved.
This time, he didn't even use Heat Vision.
Silver Superman's speed was unleashed!
In the live broadcast, people could only see a golden lightning bolt rapidly zigzagging across the oil tanker.
Each flash was accompanied by a burst of blood mist.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
One punch, one kill!
No matter if you had an iron skin or a body enhanced by Extremis,
in the face of such absolute strength and speed, you were as fragile as paper.
Blood stained the deck, then was instantly evaporated by the high temperature.
Although some viewers in front of their screens covered their eyes, scared by the bloody scene,
more people felt an unprecedented thrill!
"Good kill!"
"This is how you deal with Terrorists!"
"So satisfying! This is Homelander! This is the hero we want!"
In less than ten seconds,
on the entire oil tanker, apart from the Avengers and the President, there wasn't a single standing Terrorist.
[Ding! popularity points +50000!]
[Ding! popularity points +80000!]
[Ding! popularity points +100000...]
Arthur hovered in mid-air, watching the continuously accumulating popularity points, which soon reached one million.
[Ding! Congratulations to the Host for gaining one million popularity points in one go!]
[Obtained new reputation title: Rising Star!]
[Triggered special reward mechanism: Ability Advancement!]
[Current reward: Super Strength Upgrade!]
[Your strength has broken through again. Current maximum strength: 131 Newtons! (Can lift the Sunwith one hand!)]
With the appearance of the system prompt,
he could clearly feel that his strength limit had been broken again.
That feeling of fullness made him realize that lifting the Sun was indeed an effortless task!
"Hoo—"
Arthur exhaled a long breath, calming his turbulent emotions.
His current strength was indeed invincible on Earth.
Even if Odin, the King of Gods, in his prime, stood before him with two artifacts,
he would dare to go up and slap the old man twice, asking him if he knew how to raise children.
But he knew very well.
The Marvel Universe was unfathomably deep.
What was Odin? What was Thanos?
Above them, there was Dormammu, the Celestials, Eternity, the Living Tribunal...
And even He Who Remains, sitting at the end of time eating an apple.
And those Beyonders who played with the Universe like marbles.
Compared to those true big shots,
he still had to be a bit more cautious.
"Stay steady, don't get reckless."
Arthur admonished himself inwardly:
"Before I can reliably crush the Celestials, I still need to develop cautiously."
"But before that..."
"Not a single benefit that should be taken can be missed."
Arthur adjusted his expression, putting on that gentle smile again.
He slowly descended onto the deck.
Tony walked over and punched him in the chest.
"Nice work, buddy."
Tony took off his mask, his face was dirty, but his eyes were full of gratitude:
"Although you were a bit late, I have to admit, that's a pretty good cleanup job."
"It's nothing."
Arthur shrugged, then looked at the still-shaken President next to him.
The President was now wrapped in a blanket, still trembling slightly, supported by Captain America.
Seeing Arthur approach, the President was so excited that tears welled up in his eyes, and he grabbed Arthur's hand.
"Oh! Homelander! My God!"
"Thank you so much! You saved my life! You saved America!"
"If it weren't for you, I would have become the biggest joke in all of America tonight!"
Arthur let him hold his hand, his smile incredibly sincere (a professional fake smile):
"It's my honor, Mr. President."
"Protecting you and protecting this country is my undeniable responsibility."
"What do you want?"
The President said excitedly:
"Anything I can do, whether it's money or status, even if you want to build a statue next to the White House, I'll approve it!"
Tony and Captain America next to him chuckled.
They knew Arthur would surely say some platitudes like "for justice."
However,
Arthur's next words almost made them double over.
"Since you said so, Mr. President."
Arthur leaned forward slightly, looking into the President's eyes, not being polite at all:
"Money and statues are too vulgar."
"I value honor more."
"Since I saved your life and saved the country,"
"giving me a medal shouldn't be too much to ask, right?"
Arthur pointed to his broad chest:
"I want the highest level, preferably a medal ceremony broadcast live across America."
"I want you to personally pin it on me."
The entire scene was silent.
Tony's mouth hung open, and Captain America was also stunned.
This... so direct?
The President was also taken aback, clearly not expecting this superhero's request to be so simple and unadorned?
But he quickly reacted.
A medal ceremony?
This was simply a godsend for him!
Being associated with Homelander, who had the highest popularity right now, wouldn't his approval ratings skyrocket?
"No problem! Absolutely no problem!"
The President tightly gripped Arthur's hand, afraid he would change his mind:
"This is too easy!"
"Tomorrow! Tomorrow!"
"We'll hold the grandest medal ceremony on the White House lawn!"
"I will personally pin the Congressional Medal of Honor on your chest!"
Arthur nodded in satisfaction.
The medal itself didn't matter.
It was mainly the scene of being watched by millions on live national television.
How many popularity points would that be?
"It's settled then, Mr. President."
Arthur flashed an exceptionally brilliant smile at the camera:
"See you tomorrow."
Chapter 41: Goodnight, World
The quinjet cut through the night sky.
Inside the cabin.
The air was filled with a mixture of gunpowder and sweat.
The President had been safely transported to the nearest military Base to receive the best medical care and psychological counseling.
And as the supporting actors in tonight's grand drama, the Avengers...
...were currently slumped in their seats.
Arthur sat in the deepest part of the cabin.
His deep blue suit remained spotless.
He held a bottle of Evian water swiped from the onboard refrigerator and took an elegant sip.
His gaze swept nonchalantly over this group of so-called teammates.
"Whew..."
Captain America Steve Rogers was the first to break the silence.
He took off his cowl, revealing a face stained with a bit of dust but still radiating righteousness.
He looked at Arthur with a complex gaze.
"John."
The Captain's voice was somewhat low:
"Although your methods... well, were a bit radical."
"But I have to admit, if you hadn't arrived in time, the consequences tonight would have been unimaginable."
"Your decisiveness is indeed beyond our comparison."
The Captain recalled the two beams of Heat Vision that had instantly vaporized Killian just moments ago.
That kind of absolute, crushing power made this veteran from World War II...
...feel a deep generational gap.
"Thank you for the compliment, Captain."
Arthur smiled slightly, his tone humble:
"You know, when dealing with those inhumane Terrorists, mercy is cruelty to the victims."
"I only did what I had to do."
"Exactly."
Tony Stark had removed most of his armor, revealing the casual suit underneath.
He rubbed his aching shoulders, his gaze lingering on Arthur for a few seconds with a trace of imperceptible scrutiny:
"Even though you stole all the spotlight and didn't even leave me a decent chance to make an entrance."
"But I have to say..."
Tony made a gesture, his tone carrying a bit of emotion:
"That power, that speed... tsk tsk."
"Even my mark 42 is as slow as a turtle in front of you."
"If there's ever another alien invasion or terrorist trouble, I'd rather just give you a call and stay home drinking champagne while watching the livestream."
"I was thinking the same thing."
Hawkeye Barton, who had been silently wiping his arrows nearby, couldn't help but give a bitter smile.
He looked at the compound bow in his hand that he was so proud of, suddenly feeling that this thing was no different from a fire poker.
"To be honest, watching you knock those guys out like children with one punch..."
"I feel like the danger level S.H.I.E.L.D. assigned to us is simply a joke."
"The few of us put together probably wouldn't even be enough for you to warm up, right?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
He enjoyed this kind of flattery.
Even though these people were speaking the honest truth, it didn't stop him from feeling pleased.
"Don't say that, Clint."
Arthur waved his hand, his 'kind' smile enough to melt an iceberg:
"Everyone has their own value."
"For example, you have quite a good eye."
"And..."
Arthur stood up and straightened his cape, a movement that made everyone in the cabin subconsciously sit up straight.
"The speed of this plane is really too slow."
He glanced at the clouds slowly passing outside the window, a hint of disdain appearing on his face:
"Flying back to New York at this speed, how would I make it to tomorrow's decoration ceremony in time?"
"Everyone, I won't waste any more time here with you."
"I'll take my leave first."
After saying that.
Without any hesitation.
Arthur directly reached out and grabbed the handle of the cabin door.
Crack!
That heavy door, which originally required a hydraulic system to open, was easily pulled open by him.
A gale instantly poured into the cabin, making everyone unable to open their eyes.
"See you later, Avengers!"
Arthur left behind a dashing silhouette and leaped out.
BOOM—!!!
A violent sonic boom exploded outside the cabin, shaking the entire quinjet violently.
Everyone looked through the portholes.
They only saw a golden stream of light instantly tear through the night sky, disappearing at the end of the horizon in the blink of an eye.
Inside the cabin, a deathly silence returned once more.
"This guy..."
Tony closed the cabin door, blocking out the gale; his hair had been blown into a bird's nest.
He slumped back into his chair and rolled his eyes:
"Always so unconventional, no team spirit at all."
"The greater the power, the more eccentric the personality, right?"
The Captain sighed and hung his shield back on his back:
"At least, his heart is in the right place."
"As long as he stands on the side of justice, we can tolerate these small temper tantrums."
Barton didn't speak.
He just stared at the pitch-black night sky outside the window, his gaze somewhat vacant.
He was thinking, if he could also fly...
Even if only for a little while, would he not have to stand on rooftops every time as a mere spectator who only knows how to shoot arrows?
This chasm between mortals and gods was truly despair-inducing.
Just then.
Tony Stark suddenly sat up straight.
In those caramel-colored eyes, the playful look had vanished, replaced by an extreme calmness and seriousness.
"Hey, guys."
Tony's voice lowered, as if he were discussing a secret:
"Seriously asking you a question."
"What kind of person do you think John—or rather, Homelander—really is?"
The Captain was stunned for a moment, seemingly not understanding why Tony would suddenly ask this.
"I think he... although a bit arrogant and prone to individual heroism..."
The Captain thought for a moment and gave a fair evaluation:
"But he is indeed very patriotic and has indeed saved many people. Although sometimes... well, his hand is indeed a bit too heavy."
Recalling Killian's head that had vanished into thin air, the Captain frowned.
"I think he's alright."
Barton shrugged:
"He saved my life in New York, and he saved the President this time. Though he has a weird temper, his strength is right there; he's a reliable teammate."
"Is that so..."
Tony leaned against the back of his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest in a rhythmic 'thud thud' sound.
"I hope so too."
"But..."
Tony's tone shifted, his gaze becoming somewhat profound:
"Have you ever considered one problem?"
"He is too strong."
Tony stood up and paced two steps in the narrow cabin:
"The few of us, even adding Thor Odinson who hasn't returned yet, plus that big green guy Hulk."
"If all of us combined stood on the opposite side of him."
"What do you think our chances of winning would be?"
The air instantly froze.
The expressions of the Captain and Barton both changed.
What chances?
Zero.
That was the cruel answer.
That kind of power that could treat nuclear bombs like toys, tear warships like paper, and fly at the speed of light...
...was simply not something they could contend with at their level.
"Are you saying..."
The Captain's brows locked tightly together.
"You're worried he'll lose control?"
"I don't know."
Tony shook his head, a bitter smile appearing on his face:
"I'm just instinctively feeling uneasy as a mortal."
"A being possessing the power of a god, yet having the desires of a mortal."
"It's like handing the nuclear button to a moody child."
"What if one day he doesn't want to be a hero anymore?"
"What if one day he finds us mortals too much of an eyesore?"
The cabin fell into a long silence.
Only the roar of the engines echoed in their ears.
The seed named fear quietly took root and sprouted in everyone's hearts.
It was awe of absolute power, and panic toward the unknown.
"Phew—"
After a long time.
Tony let out a long breath, and the seemingly relaxed smile returned to his face.
As if the heaviness from just now was merely an illusion.
"Alright, don't think too much."
He clapped his hands, trying to break the oppressive atmosphere:
"At least for now, he's on our side, isn't he?"
"Besides, he still holds shares in Stark Industries; for the sake of dividends, he has to protect Earth well."
"Go back and get a good night's sleep, guys."
...
Meanwhile.
Thousands of kilometers away.
In the luxurious bedroom of a private estate in Long Island, New York.
Arthur was lying comfortably on a soft large bed covered in Egyptian cotton.
But he wasn't asleep.
His eyes were slightly closed, using his Super Hearing.
Even across half of the United States, even with the quinjet's soundproof armor.
Every word of that conversation in the cabin, every sound of breathing...
...even Tony Stark's momentarily quickened heartbeat...
...all entered his ears with absolute clarity.
"Feeling uneasy?"
Arthur chuckled inwardly.
"Tony, oh Tony, your intuition is truly annoyingly sharp."
"However..."
He rolled over, adjusting to a more comfortable position.
"This is the sorrow of mortals."
"To feel fear and unease before a true god is a biological instinct, a servility carved into the genes."
"It's quite normal."
Arthur didn't feel angry because of Tony's suspicion.
On the contrary, he quite enjoyed this feeling.
To be revered, to be feared, to be inevitably relied upon.
This was the highest realm of a ruler.
"Rest assured, my friends."
"God loves the World."
Arthur murmured to himself in his heart:
"As long as the World still knows how to love God."
"As long as you can still provide me with that continuous stream of popularity points."
"Then I am your most merciful God."
"But if one day you no longer love God, God won't mind bringing down Divine Punishment."
Arthur pulled over the quilt and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, there was still a grand decoration ceremony waiting for him.
That would be yet another carnival feast for harvesting popularity points.
"Goodnight, World."
Chapter 42: You Are a Deserving Hero!
The next day, early morning.
In a luxurious manor on Long Island, New York, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling onto Egyptian cotton sheets.
Arthur opened his eyes, not in a hurry to get up.
He casually picked up the tablet computer on the nightstand, his fingertips lightly swiping across the screen.
The screen was flooded with photos of the same man.
The New York Times front page: "God Descends Upon Florida! Homelander Saves the President Single-Handedly!"
The Washington Post: "The Terrorists' Nightmare, America's Guardian Deity!"
Twitter, Facebook, even major video sites.
The top ten spots on the trending charts were all dominated by the three characters "Homelander."
The footage of last night's live-streamed execution had been edited, reposted, and worshipped by countless people.
Especially the image of him suspended in mid-air, a blood-red moon behind him, kneeling headless corpses beneath his feet.
It was hailed as the "Statue of Liberty for the New Age."
"Tsk, tsk, tsk."
Looking at those fanatical comments, a satisfied smile curled at the corner of Arthur's mouth.
"Now this is what I call top-tier popularity."
[Ding! Detected host's reputation continuously fermenting, popularity points +5000!]
[Ding! popularity points +8000!]
[Ding! popularity points +12000...]
Even if he did nothing now, just lay in bed breathing.
The system prompt sounds in his mind kept crackling non-stop.
In just one hour.
Another hundred thousand popularity points were added to his account!
This was the joy of a snowball effect.
"That's about enough."
Arthur sat up in bed and stretched.
Today.
An even bigger show awaited him.
He walked into the walk-in closet, a room he'd just had the butler clear out yesterday. Only one thing hung inside.
That deep blue battle suit.
Arthur dressed himself, finally fastening the bright red Stars and Stripes cape over his shoulders.
Facing the mirror, he adjusted the golden eagle-head epaulettes.
"Perfect."
He gave his reflection a standard, radiant smile full of divine brilliance.
"Let's go, to the White House."
...
Washington, the White House.
At this moment, this white building symbolizing power was completely surrounded, watertight.
Media reporters from around the World, carrying an arsenal of cameras, crowded the South Lawn.
Beyond the perimeter, hundreds of thousands of citizens had gathered.
They waved American flags, held posters printed with Homelander's image, and sang the national anthem at the top of their lungs.
The sound waves were practically strong enough to lift the White House dome.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm!"
The White House press secretary stood at the podium, sweat beading on his forehead, but his face flushed with excitement:
"The President is making final preparations in the Oval Office."
"And our hero, Homelander, is about to descend upon us in the spotlight of the World!"
Though the main character hadn't arrived yet.
It didn't stop the atmosphere on site from reaching a boiling point.
At the same time.
Inside the Oval Office.
President Matthew Ellis, who had just survived a life-or-death ordeal, was adjusting his tie in front of the mirror.
Despite the makeup artist's careful touch, the lingering fear and exhaustion in his eyes were still faintly visible.
Last night's experience of being suspended in mid-air was undoubtedly a nightmare he would never shake off in this lifetime.
"Mr. President, the Secret Service is all in position."
The Chief of Staff whispered nearby:
"But regarding the security plan for Homelander, we..."
The Chief of Staff faltered.
Security?
Against whom?
Against the man who could tear warships apart with his bare hands and withstand nuclear blasts with his body?
This was simply a joke.
Just then.
Whoosh—
The previously tightly shut floor-to-ceiling windows suddenly swung open without any wind, the curtains billowing violently inward.
A powerful air pressure instantly filled the entire office.
Without any sound of footsteps.
A blue figure simply appeared out of thin air on the carpet in the center of the room.
As if God had suddenly spawned an NPC.
"Wh... who is it?!"
Several Secret Service Agents nearby instinctively drew their sidearms.
Though their hands trembled violently, though their eyes were filled with terror.
Professional instinct still made them shield the President.
"Tsk."
Arthur stood with his hands behind his back, looking at these Agents who were so tense they were about to wet themselves, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Relax, fellas."
"If I wanted to do anything to him, your gun barrels would already be in your own mouths by now."
President Ellis shuddered all over.
He pushed aside the Agents blocking him, his face plastered with an excited, ingratiating smile as he hurried forward.
"Stand down! All of you, stand down!"
The President roared at the Agents:
"This is Homelander! America's savior! And my personal savior!"
"Who gave you permission to point guns at him?!"
The Agents, as if granted a pardon, hurriedly holstered their guns and slunk back to the corners.
Faced with such a non-human existence, their little pistols were practically worse than fire pokers.
"Good morning, Mr. President."
Arthur looked at Ellis who had walked up to him and gave a slight nod.
His posture was as if he were the Master of this place.
"It seems you slept well last night? You look much better than when you were dangling from the oil tanker."
The muscles on Ellis's face twitched, but he quickly regained the politician's characteristic enthusiasm.
"Thanks to you, Homelander."
Ellis proactively reached out and tightly grasped Arthur's hand:
"If you hadn't arrived in time, I'm afraid I would have already..."
"Please, have a seat! Sit down!"
Ellis eagerly ushered Arthur to the sofa area.
The two sat facing each other.
"Yesterday's events were truly harrowing."
Ellis personally poured Arthur a cup of coffee, a hint of probing in his tone:
"Homelander, did you know? Current polls show your popularity has surpassed that of any President in history."
"Even Lincoln and Washington can't compare to you."
"Oh?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow, took the coffee, and took a sip:
"That is truly an honor."
Observing Arthur's expression, Ellis cautiously asked:
"So, what do you think of my performance as President?"
"This terrorist attack incident, although ultimately resolved, I worry the public may lose confidence in the government..."
Arthur looked at this wavering politician before him and sneered inwardly.
This old fox was looking for a backer.
He knew that as long as Homelander said one sentence, "The President is doing a good job."
His re-election would basically be a done deal.
"You're doing very well, Ellis."
Arthur set down the coffee cup, leaned forward slightly, and gave the President an affirmative look:
"Never compromising with Terrorists is the very embodiment of the American spirit."
"Although the process was a bit tortuous, the result was good, wasn't it?"
"I believe, under your leadership, this country will get better and better."
Of course, the prerequisite is listening to me.
Arthur silently added this in his heart.
Hearing these words, Ellis felt as if he had received a pardon from God.
He flushed with excitement, nodding repeatedly:
"Thank you! Thank you for your recognition!"
"With your support, I am reassured!"
This was Homelander's endorsement!
This was equivalent to getting a get-out-of-jail-free card!
"In that case."
Arthur glanced at the wall clock, stood up, and adjusted his cape:
"Shouldn't we attend to the main event?"
"Those spectators outside must be getting impatient."
"Yes! Yes! The medal ceremony!"
Ellis immediately reacted, hastily standing up:
"Everything is prepared!"
"Please, follow me!"
...
The White House South Lawn.
When President Ellis and Homelander walked out side by side from the iconic white colonnade.
The World seemed to fall silent for an instant.
Immediately after.
BOOM!!!
Deafening cheers erupted like a tsunami.
"Homelander! Homelander! Homelander!"
Countless American flags waved, countless camera flashes lit up.
The fanatical atmosphere even made the battle-hardened President feel a moment of dizziness.
But Arthur seemed to enjoy it immensely.
He stood on the podium, smiling and waving to the crowd.
Every movement, every glance, precisely hit the people's sweet spot.
The ceremony proceeded with solemn dignity.
The military band played the national anthem.
A gun salute fired in unison.
President Ellis took the Congressional Medal of Honor, representing the United States' highest honor, from the tray held by a ceremonial soldier.
"Mr. John Gilchang."
Ellis's voice, amplified by the microphone, reached across the globe:
"In recognition of your turning the tide in the Battle of New York, and saving countless lives during the Miami terrorist attack."
"On behalf of the United States of America, and all its citizens."
"I bestow upon you this medal."
"You are a deserving hero!"
Ellis stood on his toes and hung the heavy medal around Arthur's neck.
Click! Click!
Countless camera shutters sounded in unison.
This moment was forever frozen in history.
Arthur glanced down at the medal on his chest, then looked at the President before him, his face full of reverence.
He turned around to face the ocean of people.
He raised his hands and gently pressed down.
Miraculously, the previously boiling crowd instantly quieted.
Everyone held their breath, awaiting the descent of the divine oracle.
"Thank you."
Arthur's voice was magnetic and full of power:
"This medal is heavy."
"Because it represents not just honor, but responsibility."
He paused, his gaze sweeping profoundly across the entire scene:
"I know many call me a hero, even a god."
"But I prefer to call myself—your family."
"I stand here not just because I possess power."
"But because I love this land, I love each and every one of you."
Arthur stroked the medal on his chest, his expression becoming infinitely sacred:
"I represent America."
"I saved the President, but that is nothing."
"Because whether it's the President or an ordinary worker, in my eyes, you are all family who need protection."
"As long as I draw breath, no one can harm you!"
"For America!"
This final roar completely ignited the entire venue.
"USA! USA! Homelander! Homelander!"
The cheers soared into the sky, even causing the White House windows to vibrate slightly.
[Ding! Detected epic-level worship frenzy!]
[Ding! popularity points +100000!]
[Ding! popularity points +200000!]
[Ding! Congratulations, host. Current popularity points have broken through the 2 million mark!]
Listening to the pleasant prompt sounds in his mind, Arthur felt an explosion of sheer satisfaction.
Two million!
This "performance" speech was a massive win!
[Ding! Reputation level increased to: Emerging Prominence!]
[Reward obtained: Comprehensive upgrade to physical resistance (includes slight improvements to mental and magic resistance)!]
Feeling the warm currents surging within him again, the smile on Arthur's face grew even more sincere.
He waved to the crowd while calculating his next moves in his mind.
The Mandarin was dealt with, Killian turned to dust.
Next...
If he remembered correctly, that cancerous tumor within S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA.
Should be getting restless soon, right?
The plot of *Captain America: The Winter Soldier*, the Insight Project.
That was a grand conspiracy to kill millions of people at once.
"Heh."
Arthur sneered inwardly.
HYDRA?
Wasn't that just a bunch of experience points waiting to be harvested?
When the time came, as long as he personally exposed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s true face to the entire World.
Then descended like a savior, crushed the Insight Project, destroyed those Helicarriers...
Wouldn't the popularity points just skyrocket?
And...
Arthur glanced sideways at the beaming Nick Fury.
This black egghead had been squatting in the outhouse without doing his business for too long.
Using the HYDRA incident, he could thoroughly purge S.H.I.E.L.D.
Or even take over S.H.I.E.L.D. directly?
Turn these Agents into his private army?
Not a bad idea.
As for what came after...
Arthur looked at President Ellis beside him, still bowing and scraping to him.
Since I can already represent America.
Since my popularity is higher than the President's.
Then why...
Don't I sit in that position myself?
President Homelander?
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Just thinking about it, the popularity points would be off the charts!
"Delightful."
Arthur gave himself a mental pat on the back.
Then, facing the cameras, he once again revealed an ambitious, benevolently nuclear smile.
Chapter 43: He Who Controls the Media, Controls the Truth
"God bless America."
Arthur faced the camera, leaving behind this concluding remark that was destined to be recorded in history.
Amidst the thunderous and prolonged applause, he turned and left the stage.
His red cape carved a perfect arc behind him.
It wasn't until he walked into the internal corridors of the White House, cutting off those fanatical gazes, that...
...the compassionate, divine radiance on Arthur's face finally faded slightly.
In its place was a look of casual arrogance.
"Tch."
He raised a hand and flicked the heavy Congressional Medal of Honor on his chest, producing a light clink.
"The value of this thing isn't even worth as much as the one-dollar lighter I bought."
Arthur sneered inwardly.
Though he spoke of honor, he knew better than anyone.
The only value of this piece of tin was to let his popularity points surge a bit higher.
He opened the system panel.
[Current popularity points: 2,850,000!]
The numbers were still jumping frantically, but this speed...
Arthur frowned slightly.
"Slow."
"Still too slow."
While over two million seemed like a lot, for the next stage of upgrades...
...or to exchange for higher-level abilities, it was far from enough.
Moreover, his current identity was merely that of a "superhero."
At most, he was the "strongest superhero."
But that wasn't enough.
Far from enough.
"If I want to sit in the Oval Office of the White House in the future, or even have the whole World grovel at my feet..."
As Arthur walked, he calculated rapidly in his mind:
"Merely maintaining a wage-slave hero image absolutely won't work."
"I need more bargaining chips."
"I need a brand, even a faith."
Suddenly.
An incredibly perfect template flashed through his mind.
The behemoth from another World that turned superheroes into a trillion-dollar industry—Vought International!
And The Seven, who, despite being scumbags, certainly knew a thing or two about operations!
"Exactly!"
Arthur's eyes instantly lit up, and his steps became a bit lighter.
"Fighting alone is the behavior of a brute."
"A true ruler always stands on the shoulders of a group of strong individuals, enjoying the glory of being the center of attention."
"I want to form my own'Seven'!"
Arthur quickly constructed a blueprint in his mind.
As long as this team was established, they would be countless mobile popularity harvesters.
Even if he was sleeping at home, as long as his subordinates went out to show their faces or save a cat...
...popularity points would be credited to him.
This is called the cluster effect!
This is called passive income!
"As for the candidates..."
Arthur rubbed his chin, the faces of various Marvel characters flashing through his head.
First, a mortal Agent who only knows how to shoot arrows like Hawkeye?
Pass.
Too weak, lowers the prestige, and he's not handsome enough.
Hulk?
No good either.
He can fight, but that ugly green look—he only knows how to roar after transforming.
He has zero commercial value and might even scare children, affecting merchandise sales.
"What I want are perfect idols who have both strength and looks, and who are obedient."
Arthur's thoughts began to wander.
"That old man Magneto might be a bit up there in years, but his control of magnetic fields is truly cool. With a bit of packaging, he'd be a classic charismatic villain-turned-hero."
"Jean Grey... Phoenix Force, tsk tsk, she's a must-have. Not only can she fight, but she's also stunning."
"And Vision, that high-tech, cold aesthetic would definitely harvest a huge wave of sapiosexual fans. Though it's still a long time before his birth."
Of course.
Arthur also knew.
It was a bit early to be thinking about this.
After all, it was currently 2013.
There was nearly a two-year window before the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
During this time, S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't fallen yet, and HYDRA was still in hiding.
The Mutant timeline hadn't fully merged with this side yet either.
"However, it's always right to plan ahead."
"During these two years of downtime, I can exactly lay the foundation first."
Arthur walked out of the White House, declining the President's private car transport.
Boom!
He soared directly into the sky, hovering ten thousand meters above Washington.
The fierce wind whipped his cape.
He looked down upon the masses below, his eyes flashing with the light of ambition.
"Since I'm going to commercialize and start a god-making movement..."
"Then, the mouthpiece is the most important thing."
"He who controls the media, controls the truth."
"Although my popularity is high now, those media outlets are someone else's dogs after all; there's no telling when they might bite back."
"I need a dog of my own."
"A vicious dog with the loudest voice and the widest influence."
A name instantly locked into Arthur's mind.
The Daily Bugle.
J. Jonah Jameson.
That mustachioed, perpetually roaring newspaper owner who slandered Spider-Man to the core.
In this era where print media wasn't completely dead and online media was just emerging...
...the Daily Bugle still held massive discourse power over public opinion in New York and even the entire United States.
"It's you then."
A playful smile curled at the corner of Arthur's mouth.
"I heard you hate masked vigilantes?"
"What a coincidence."
"I also hate those guys who hide their faces."
"I think we'll have a lot in common."
Boom!!!
A terrifying sonic boom exploded in the clouds.
The golden figure instantly vanished from the skies above Washington, heading straight for New York.
...
New York, Midtown Manhattan.
Daily Bugle Building.
Inside this landmark building, the atmosphere was currently filled with the anxiety of a looming deadline.
The clacking of typewriters, the ringing of telephones, and the roars of editors blended together.
And in the Editor-in-Chief's office on the top floor...
...the roaring was so loud it made the glass vibrate.
"Garbage! All of it is garbage!"
J. Jonah Jameson, the man with graying hair and a signature small mustache...
...was waving a stack of photos, spraying saliva at the trembling photographer in front of him:
"I want news! I want buzz! I want headlines that make those coffee-holding office workers stop in their tracks!"
"What are you showing me?"
"Iron Man eating donuts? Captain America on a morning run?"
"Even my eighty-year-old mother wouldn't want to see this!"
Jameson slammed the photos onto the desk, his face red with anger:
"Right now, all of New York—no, the whole World—is talking about Homelander!"
"I want a Homelander exclusive! I want photos that can be printed on the cover and sell a million copies!"
"Understand? I want photos full of power, full of oppression, and preferably with a bit of controversy!"
"But... Boss..."
The young photographer shrunk his neck and defended himself in a small voice:
"Homelander flies too fast, my camera simply can't capture him..."
"Excuses! All excuses!"
Jameson slapped the desk, about to continue his tirade.
Whoosh—
The originally closed floor-to-ceiling window suddenly moved on its own.
A powerful air pressure instantly filled the entire office.
All the documents, newspapers, and photos flew up at this moment.
"What's going on?! Who opened the window?!"
Jameson clutched the sparse hair on his head, roaring in anger.
However.
As the papers flying through the air settled.
His face, distorted by rage, instantly froze.
It was as if a pause button had been pressed.
There, on the desk in front of the window...
...a figure in a deep blue suit, with a red cape slowly draping down behind him, was elegantly hovering.
His arms were crossed, and his face wore that heart-pounding, 'kindly' smile.
The golden eagle-head epaulettes shimmered with a dazzling luster under the office lights.
"I heard..."
Arthur looked at the dumbstruck Jameson, his voice magnetic and gentle:
"...you were looking for me?"
Chapter 44: This Move, You're in the Stratosphere
That sense of oppression radiating from Arthur.
Made J. Jonah Jameson, a grumpy old man who usually only roared at his subordinates,
not even dare to breathe a single loud breath at this moment.
He stared blankly at the man floating above the office desk.
Those perfect muscle lines, those shining golden epaulettes, and those eyes that seemed able to see through one's heart.
This was Homelander.
This was the god among men who had saved the President with one hand on TV yesterday and burned the Terrorists to ashes!
*Gulp.*
Jameson swallowed hard.
The next second.
He suddenly snapped back to his senses and turned to roar at the young photographer who hadn't recovered yet:
"What are you still standing there for?!"
"Get out!"
"Close the door! No one is allowed in! Unless the Earth explodes, don't disturb my conversation with Mr. Arthur!"
The photographer was so scared his camera almost fell to the ground; he scrambled out of the office and shut the door tight behind him.
Inside the office, only two people remained.
Arthur looked at Jameson's comical appearance, and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened.
He descended slowly, his feet landing on the office desk piled high with documents.
Then, he sat on the edge of the desk quite naturally, looking down at Jameson sitting in the executive chair.
"It seems my uninvited visit hasn't caused you any trouble?"
"Trouble? Of course not! It's my honor! A huge honor!"
Jameson was so excited his face was flushed and his neck was red; he stood up, even wanting to shake Arthur's hand.
But he pulled back somewhat fearfully.
He rubbed his hands together, his shrewd eyes flashing with a fanatical light:
"You don't know how long I've looked forward to this day!"
"Those damn masked freaks! That Hulk who makes a mess of the city! And that tin man who only knows how to fly around in the sky!"
"None of them deserve to be called heroes!"
Jameson became more and more excited as he spoke, spittle flying everywhere:
"Only you! Homelander!"
"You don't wear a mask! You are open and aboveboard! You stand under the national flag to receive medals!"
"You are order! You are the law! You are the true representative of America!"
Arthur listened to these words; although he felt it was a bit noisy, he had to admit.
Although this old man was a troll, he trolled with great skill.
This flattery felt comfortable.
[Ding! Extreme worship and identification from the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Bugle detected, popularity points +500!]
Arthur nodded slightly, his face showing that smile full of tolerance and encouragement.
"Well said, Jonah."
"I've always felt that the Daily Bugle is the only media outlet in New York... no, in all of America, that dares to speak the truth."
"That's also why I'm here."
Hearing Homelander's praise personally, Jameson felt as if his bones had lightened by several ounces.
"Thank you! Thank you for your recognition!"
Jameson excitedly took the best cigar out of his drawer, wanting to hand it to Arthur.
But seeing that spotless suit, he sheepishly took it back.
Arthur waved his hand, indicating it wasn't necessary.
He leaned forward slightly, those blue eyes looking directly at Jameson, his tone becoming meaningful:
"Now then, Jonah."
"Tell me, in your eyes, what am I?"
"A powerful superhero? Or a cash cow that can help you sell millions of newspapers?"
Jameson was stunned for a moment.
As a veteran in the media World, he instantly heard the probing in those words.
He took a deep breath, put away his flattering expression, and became serious and earnest.
"Mr. Arthur."
"I won't deny that your photos can double the Daily Bugle's sales; that's business."
"But, as a media professional with a conscience,"
Jameson pointed to an American flag hanging on the wall:
"In my eyes, you are more than just a superhero."
"You are the incarnation of power, the maintainer of order."
"This World is too chaotic—Mutants, Aliens, Terrorists... we need a strong power, an absolute benchmark."
"And you are that benchmark."
"You are America's sharpest sword and its sturdiest shield!"
"Heh."
Arthur laughed.
He laughed very happily.
"We're all adults; some things don't need to be stated so explicitly."
He reached out and patted Jameson on the shoulder.
He used a bit of force, making the old man grimace.
"You want to make money, and I want to be famous."
"These don't conflict."
"I heard you want an exclusive close-up of me?"
Jameson's eyes instantly lit up like two lightbulbs.
"Of course! Of course!"
"If you're willing! Front page! Full page! I can even release a special issue for you!"
"I want to print your heroic image on every American's breakfast table!"
"This is to increase your popularity! To let more people bask in your glory!"
This old fox really knows how to talk.
It was clearly for money, yet he made it sound like proselytizing.
However, this was exactly what Arthur wanted.
"Fine."
Arthur nodded and stood up straight.
"You can take the photos."
"I'll support however you want to publish and promote them."
"But there is one condition."
"Name it! I'd even change the newspaper's name to 'Homelander Daily' if you asked!" Jameson stated without hesitation.
Arthur shook his head.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the heavy traffic on the streets below like ants.
"Jonah, do you know where the problem lies now?"
"In the minds of the people, I'm just a superhero."
"A superhero who flies a bit faster than Iron Man and is a bit stronger than Captain America."
"But that's not enough."
"Superheroes serve people."
"They're like civil servants who are on call and have to smile even when they're being scolded."
"I don't want to be that kind of cheap hero."
"What I want to be is an existence that transcends heroes."
Jameson listened, stunned: "Then you mean..."
"Faith."
Arthur uttered the word.
"I want you to turn my name into a faith."
"I want everyone who mentions the name 'Homelander' to not think of a Vigilante in spandex fighting crime."
"But to think of safety, of power, of—America itself."
Arthur pointed at Jameson:
"In your newspaper, stop using that cliché term'superhero' to describe me."
"I am a leader."
"I am the Savior."
"I am the incarnation of this land."
"Do you understand?"
Jameson's mouth hung open as he stared blankly at the man in front of him.
As a media professional, he understood the inner workings of this all too well.
This was creating a god!
This was a blatant deification movement!
If anyone else had said this, Jameson would have called security to throw them out long ago.
But looking at this man before him, who could tear apart warships with his hands and withstand nuclear bombs with his physical body.
Jameson felt his blood boiling.
This was real news!
This was a public opinion bomb that could ignite an era!
"Genius... this is a stroke of genius!"
Jameson trembled with excitement and slammed his hand on the desk:
"I understand! Mr. Arthur!"
"Heroes can make mistakes and be questioned."
"But a god won't!"
"Faith is beyond question!"
"Rest assured! Starting tomorrow, every page and every word in the Daily Bugle will build a golden image for you!"
"I will shut up those who question you, and I will let the whole World understand that only under your radiance does humanity have a future!"
Seeing the old man instantly transform into a fanatical believer, Arthur was extremely satisfied.
This was the effect he wanted.
A dog that brings its own food and still fights desperately to bite for you.
"Very good."
Arthur straightened his cape and struck a perfect, oppressive pose.
He stood with hands on his hips, head tilted slightly back, looking down upon the World.
"Since you understand, what are you waiting for?"
"Tell your photographer to get his ass in here."
"Remember, make me look a bit more divine."
"No problem! Absolutely no problem!"
Jameson rushed to the door like a rabbit, pulled it open, and roared outside:
"Eddie! Eddie Brock! Where the hell did you go, you little punk who only knows how to be late?!"
"Get your ass in here with that damn camera!"
"This is the greatest photo you'll ever take in your life!"
[Ding! The host is carrying out a deep public opinion layout, which is expected to trigger a long-term surge in reputation!]
[System Evaluation: This move, you're in the stratosphere.]