Chapter 45: We're Going to Space
A few minutes later.
The office door was thrown open.
A young man carrying a huge camera bag and covered in sweat stumbled in.
He looked a bit disheveled, but his eyes sparkled with a light called ambition.
It was none other than the future host of Venom, and current down-and-out photographer, Eddie Brock.
"B-Boss! I'm here!"
"The camera! The lenses! I brought them all!"
Panting, Eddie looked up and froze in his tracks.
He saw the man sitting on the edge of the desk, looking him over with a scrutinizing gaze.
A deep blue suit, golden eagle-head epaulets, and a red cape that seemed to glow.
"My God..."
Eddie nearly dropped his camera, and a pathetic gulp escaped his throat.
"H-Homelander?!"
Jameson walked over impatiently and slapped the back of Eddie's head.
"Speak clearly!"
"Standing before you is the savior of America, the god we must serve with everything we have!"
"From today on, you are Mr. Arthur's personal photographer."
"If you dare blur even one photo, I'll shove you into the printing press and make you tomorrow's front page!"
Eddie was snapped back to reality by the slap.
But instead of being angry, he trembled with excitement.
Personal photographer?
Taking photos of Homelander?
This wasn't just a job; it was like hitting the jackpot!
"An honor! It's the honor of a lifetime!"
Eddie straightened his back, looking at Arthur with fanatical eyes, as if looking at a mountain of gold:
"Mr. Arthur, I'm a die-hard fan!"
"I watched yesterday's livestream too! It was so cool! Seriously cool!"
"Especially the part where you turned that terrorist to ash with your Heat Vision!"
At this point, Eddie seemed overly excited, with a hint of morbid thrill in his voice:
"That moment was pure art!"
"That's exactly how those damn criminals should be handled!"
"Trials, human rights—those are just excuses for the weak."
"A powerhouse like you should have the right to execute trash on the spot!"
"I've been fed up with the Avengers for a long time; they're always worrying about this and that during a fight."
"Something that could be solved with one punch, they drag out until half the city is destroyed."
"It's hypocrisy!"
"Only you! You are true justice! Absolute justice!"
Arthur's eyebrows twitched slightly as he listened to this radical speech.
He glanced at the young man with some surprise.
Is this Eddie Brock?
This extreme, results-oriented view of justice actually suits the yet-to-appear Venom quite well.
"You're pretty good."
Arthur hopped off the desk, walked over to Eddie, and reached out to straighten his crooked camera strap.
A smile of approval appeared on his face:
"It seems you're a man who understands."
"There are many smart people in this World, but not many as clear-headed as you."
"Do a good job. I have high hopes for you; you have a bright future."
Though he said this, Arthur sneered inwardly.
This kid's ambition was practically overflowing from his eyes.
A person like this is a sharp blade if used correctly.
If not, he's a backstabber.
But it didn't matter.
In the face of absolute power, any ambition is a joke.
As long as he remained the strongest, this kid would have no choice but to be a dog that takes pictures.
"Th-thank you for the compliment!"
Eddie was flattered, his face flushing red.
"So, Mr. Arthur."
Eddie quickly snapped into work mode, raising his camera and asking professionally:
"What kind of photos do you want?"
"Something approachable? Or a combat style?"
"Or maybe we could go to Times Square and find some passersby for a staged shoot?"
Arthur shook his head.
He put his hands behind his back, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked at the sky outside.
"Those are all too cliché."
"If we're going to create a god, he has to look like one."
"Standing on the ground, one will always be a mere mortal."
Arthur turned around and pointed above his head:
"I want to go there."
"Space."
"I want a photo with Earth as the background and the Sun behind me."
Arthur spread his arms, as if already seeing the sensation the photo would cause:
"Floating in Low Earth Orbit, sunlight spilling over my epaulets, the whole World beneath my feet."
"I want that feeling of a god among men looking down upon all living things."
"How about it? Is that composition explosive enough?"
Hiss—
The sound of sharp intakes of breath filled the office once again.
Jameson's hands were shaking with excitement; if they could actually take such a photo...
Then tomorrow's Daily Bugle would definitely sell like crazy!
But...
Eddie's face immediately fell, looking troubled.
"This... this idea is absolutely epic!"
"But... Mr. Homelander..."
Eddie pointed to himself, then to the camera in his hand, and gave a bitter smile:
"You can fly into space physically, but I... I'm just an ordinary person."
"It's a vacuum, with temperatures hundreds of degrees below zero."
"I'd probably turn into a popsicle before I even had a chance to press the shutter."
"Useless!"
Hearing this, Jameson immediately roared again:
"Do you have a pig's brain?!"
"You should ask 'how can I do it' first, instead of immediately telling me 'I can't'!"
Jameson turned to Arthur, his face instantly switching to a fawning smile:
"Mr. Arthur, this problem is actually quite easy to solve."
"Aren't you and Mr. Tony Stark good friends?"
"You could give him a call and borrow one of those Iron Armors for this kid to wear."
"Can't those things go into space?"
"With that armor on, he could do more than take photos; he could dance up there!"
Jameson felt he was a true genius.
Solving the technical issue while also riding the coattails of Iron Man's fame.
However.
Arthur frowned slightly.
Borrow armor from Tony?
It was an option, indeed.
But...
If he had to beg that Tin Man just to take a photo, where would his pride as a god among men go?
Besides, putting on and taking off that armor was a huge hassle, not to mention having to listen to Jarvis's nagging.
Too slow.
Too cumbersome.
"No need for all that trouble."
Arthur waved his hand, cutting off Jameson's fantasy.
"I said, I am omnipotent."
He walked up to Eddie, looking at the bewildered photographer.
"Get your camera ready and hold on tight."
"What?" Eddie hadn't reacted yet.
Buzz!
An invisible yet tangible force field instantly radiated from Arthur's body.
It was his Bio-electric Field!
This field didn't just keep his clothes intact during high-speed flight.
It could protect anything he held.
Whether it was a plane or a living person!
As his power upgraded, his control over the Bio-electric Field had long since reached perfection.
And when the time came, he would only need to take a deep breath to sustain Brock's breathing in space.
"Ah? W-wait!"
Eddie felt his body become light, enveloped by a gentle force.
Before he could even cry out.
Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Up we go!"
Boom!!!
The floor-to-ceiling windows of the Daily Bugle Building shattered instantly.
A golden streak of light, carrying the screaming photographer, soared straight into the sky!
Leaving behind only a floor of shattered glass and Jameson, standing in the wild wind, disheveled but full of fanaticism.
"My God..."
Jameson watched the figure disappear into the clouds and muttered to himself:
"This is a miracle! This is a headline!"
"Print more copies of tomorrow's paper! Ten times more!"
Chapter 46: A god among men
"Ah—!!!"
Eddie Brock's scream didn't even have time to fully escape his throat...
...Before it was forcefully choked back by the sight before him.
There was no agonizing pain of internal organs being crushed as he had expected.
There was no feeling of suffocation from high-altitude oxygen deprivation.
He couldn't even hear the sound of the wind.
He felt as stable as if he were sitting on his own sofa at home.
Eddie opened his eyes tremulously.
The next second.
His pupils dilated sharply, and his entire being went completely numb.
The once-bustling New York had now turned into a glowing miniature model.
The azure, curved horizon stretched across the bottom of his vision, with white clouds dotting it like cotton wool.
And overhead was that heart-stoppingly deep...
...Infinite, pitch-black Universe, along with those billions of twinkling stars.
"Is this... space?"
Eddie's voice was trembling as he reached out in disbelief.
However, he touched a faint, invisible barrier.
That was the Bio-electric Field.
"How does it feel, Eddie?"
Arthur floated beside him, his hands behind his back.
He looked at the dazed Eddie, a playful smile curling at the corner of his mouth:
"Isn't it much more exciting than a roller coaster?"
"Oh... my God..."
Eddie turned his head with difficulty, looking at the man beside him who wasn't even wearing a spacesuit...
...Just casually floating there in the vacuum.
The shock from the depths of his soul made him even forget to breathe.
They were already up here?
In an instant?
And he was still alive?
"Are... are you a god?"
Eddie muttered to himself, the fanaticism in his eyes almost overflowing.
That was more like it.
Arthur was very satisfied with this little fan's reaction.
[Ding! Detected Eddie Brock's faith collapsing and restructuring, converting into a fanatic believer. popularity points +1,000!]
"A god?"
Arthur chuckled softly, neither admitting nor denying it.
He just reached out and pointed at the azure Planet below:
"Looking at the World from this height, how do you feel?"
"Small."
Eddie answered subconsciously:
"Everything is too small. Those skyscrapers, those politicians fighting for power and profit, and even those so-called laws and rules—they all seem so ridiculous here."
"Bingo."
Arthur snapped his fingers.
"You're a smart man, Eddie."
"From this perspective, the only truth is power."
Arthur patted Eddie on the shoulder:
"The fact that you can think this way shows your perspective has broadened."
"Unlike those bureaucrats who only know how to sit in offices and boss people around, their vision is too narrow."
"Work hard for me, Eddie."
"You will see a brand new World."
"Alright, small talk is over."
Arthur pointed to the camera in Eddie's arms:
"Don't forget what we're here for."
"Find a good angle, my personal photographer."
Eddie immediately entered work mode.
He raised the expensive Hasselblad camera and began searching for the best position in space.
"Mr. Homelander, let's fly a bit further that way!"
"Yes! Right there!"
Eddie pointed to one side of the Earth:
"We'll use the North American continent as a backdrop, with the Sun right in front of you, but not completely obscuring your figure."
"We want to create the feeling that you are the Son of the Sun, the incarnation of light, guarding the entire American continent!"
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Professional.
This composition sounded very exciting.
With a thought, he moved himself and Eddie to the designated position instantly.
This was Low Earth Orbit.
Beneath his feet was the clearly visible outline of the American continent—his base of operations.
And before him was that dazzling star.
Arthur slowly spread his arms.
He tilted his head slightly, making a gesture as if embracing the Sun.
His body leaned forward slightly, as if receiving a divine baptism, or as if he himself were a deity.
Golden sunlight spilled over him, plating his deep blue suit with a sacred golden edge.
Especially that red cape, set against the dark background of space.
It was red as fire, red as blood.
"Now!"
Eddie held his breath, his finger frantically clicking the shutter.
"Click! Click! Click!"
At this moment.
In this silent Universe.
Only the sound of the shutter echoed in Eddie's heart.
He knew he had taken the most incredible photo of his life.
Bar none!
A few minutes later.
"I've got it! Mr. Homelander, take a look!"
Eddie handed the camera over like a prized treasure, his hands shaking.
Arthur looked down at the display screen.
In the photo.
He was suspended above the Earth, his back to the lens.
The sunlight traced a golden outline around his figure, making him look both sacred and majestic.
That sense of looking down upon all living things and guarding the World almost overflowed from the screen.
The best part was...
...Because of the angle, the Sun's light formed a faint halo above his head.
Isn't this exactly what God looks like?!
"Not bad."
Arthur nodded with satisfaction.
"Really not bad."
"If this photo gets out, won't those fanatics storm the newsstands?"
"Some might even print it out and stick it on their headboards to ward off evil."
Arthur felt a secret thrill in his heart.
This wasn't just a photo; it was clearly a massive check for popularity points!
As for S.H.I.E.L.D.?
As for whether that Black Braised Egg would have another paranoia attack because of this photo?
Who cared.
Arthur gave a cold laugh.
"Nick Fury is probably busy cleaning up messes right now."
"Even if he wants to find trouble, does he have the strength?"
"Right now, I'm just playing this superhero house game with them for popularity points."
"If one day I'm not happy..."
Arthur glanced at the fragile blue Planet beneath his feet.
"I'll just change into a black uniform."
"And follow a Dark Superman script."
"Hit the Earth with a Getsuga Tensho, or simply push the Moon over for a game of billiards."
"When that time comes, the whole World will have to kneel and sing 'Conquered' for me."
"If I don't eat beef, no one else gets to either!"
Besides.
This Universe was so vast.
The Kree, the Skrulls, and that Purple Potato Spirit, Thanos.
They were all mobile popularity point ATMs.
At worst, he could follow Auntie Marvel's lead and go on a tour of the entire Universe, becoming a cosmic-level Homelander.
Wouldn't those popularity points blow the system apart?
Thinking of this, Arthur was in a great mood.
"Take a few more, Eddie."
Arthur changed his posture, turning sideways to reveal a perfect profile:
"This time, make it a bit more melancholic, reflecting my loneliness as a god."
"No problem! Leave it to me!"
Eddie was like he'd been injected with chicken blood, the shutter clicking non-stop again.
...
Half an hour later.
New York, Daily Bugle Building.
When Arthur descended from the sky with Eddie, passing directly through the shattered floor-to-ceiling window that hadn't been repaired yet and returning to the office...
...Jameson was pacing anxiously around the room.
Seeing the two return, he immediately pounced on the camera in Eddie's hands.
"Quick! Let me see!"
When the photo of the "god among men" came into view...
...Jameson's old face instantly turned bright red, his breathing so hurried he looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
"My God..."
"This... this is a work of art!"
"This is absolutely a Pulitzer Prize-level photograph!"
Jameson gesticulated wildly with excitement, showering Arthur with flattery:
"Mr. Arthur! You are simply the darling of the lens!"
"Once this photo is printed, all of America will go crazy for you!"
"I want to increase the print run! Increase it twenty-fold!"
"I want every trash can in New York tomorrow to be stuffed with this newspaper—oh no, I want it to be cherished in photo frames by the people!"
Watching the two of them so excited.
Arthur just gave a faint smile.
He sat on the desk, his fingers lightly tapping the surface.
His mind was already starting to calculate the next step of his plan.
"The media aspect is pretty much settled."
"I've already occupied the high ground of public opinion."
"Next, relying solely on newspapers and news won't be enough."
"These days, traffic is king, and capital is the hard truth."
"I need to form my own company."
"Vought International... or maybe the Homelander Group?"
"I want to make movies—the kind where I'm the protagonist, the Avengers are supporting characters, and the villain gets blown away by one of my punches."
"I want to sell merchandise—my signature suits, my action figures."
"I want to establish my own superhero team."
"And sign all those promising individuals who haven't made it big yet to my agency."
Money?
That was the least of his worries.
He was, after all, a major shareholder of Stark Industries.
Chapter 47: This Is the Efficiency S.H.I.E.L.D. Should Have
He bid farewell to the newspaper boss and photographer who were still drooling over the photos.
Arthur straightened his tie and stood at the edge of the Daily Bugle Building's rooftop.
The wind whipped the bright red Stars and Stripes cape behind him, making a snapping sound.
"Since the dogs in the media are leashed, next, it's time to secure that legal business license."
Arthur squinted his eyes, looking toward Washington, D.C.
In this society ruled by law, although he possessed power that transcended the law,
if he wanted to comfortably harvest the faith of all humanity and even turn superheroes into a monopoly business,
a legal company with official backing was indispensable.
He had been coveting Vought International's model for a long time.
Merchandise, movies, reality shows, even renting out superheroes to the Military...
That was all cold, hard cash, not to mention a steady stream of popularity points!
"However, for a business involving supernatural powers, an ordinary Bureau of Industry and Commerceprobably wouldn't have the guts to approve it."
"I'll still have to find that Cyclops."
A playful smile curled at the corner of Arthur's mouth.
Though he detested S.H.I.E.L.D.'s annoying habit of wanting to control everything,
he had to admit,
in this Marvel Universe, the S.H.I.E.L.D. brand
was quite useful for handling these administrative headaches.
"It's also time to find something for our Director to do."
BOOM!!!
The air instantly exploded.
A golden streak of light vanished into the skies above New York.
...
Washington, D.C., Triskelion.
This was the headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D., the last line of defense for Earth (self-proclaimed).
The security level here was several grades higher than even the White House.
Countless anti-aircraft missiles, infrared sensors, and rigorously trained Agents
patrolled every inch of this space twenty-four hours a day without interruption.
Inside the Director's office.
Nick Fury was sitting behind his large desk,
holding a follow-up report on The Mandarin incident.
Although the Terrorists had been wiped out by that fellow Homelander,
the mess left behind still had to be cleaned up by S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Dammit..."
Fury rubbed his single eye, feeling his temples throb.
Ever since Arthur appeared, his workload had skyrocketed.
Just then,
"Wooo—!!!"
A piercing alarm sounded throughout the Triskelion without warning.
It was the highest-level intrusion alert!
"What's going on?!"
Fury snapped to his feet, his hand already reaching for the sidearm at his waist.
"Director! We've detected an unknown high-energy signature approaching at extreme speed! Its speed... it's too fast! Radar can't lock on!"
Agent Hill's anxious voice came through the communicator.
BANG!!!
Before Fury could issue an order,
the bulletproof floor-to-ceiling window of the office, which was claimed to withstand Rocket fire,
was violently smashed from the outside like a fragile cracker!
Countless glass shards sprayed like a rainstorm.
Gale-force winds rushed in, sending the documents on the desk flying everywhere.
Amidst the swirling debris,
a figure wearing a deep blue suit with a red cape trailing behind
slowly descended onto the glass-strewn carpet.
He stood with hands on his hips, a 'kind' smile on his face.
"Good afternoon, Nick."
"It seems the ventilation in your office isn't great. I helped you open a window to let some air in."
Nick Fury looked at the man who had appeared like a phantom.
His single eye twitched violently several times.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to draw his gun.
From between his teeth, he squeezed out a classic greeting:
"Motherfucker..."
"Arthur!"
Fury pointed at the smashed window and roared:
"Can't you just walk through the front door like a normal person?!"
"Do you know how expensive this window is?!"
"That's taxpayer money!"
"The front door?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow as if he'd heard a joke, his tone matter-of-fact:
"Nick, do you think someone of my status needs to use a door anywhere?"
"That's a passage for mortals."
"For a god, only descending from the heavens fits my identity, doesn't it?"
Fury covered his face in exasperation.
He felt his blood pressure soaring.
"Fine, don't give me that nonsense."
Fury waved his hand, signaling the Agents who had rushed in to stand down.
Resorting to force against this monster served no purpose other than increasing the budget for death benefits.
"Speak. What do you want?"
"Don't tell me you're here to ask for travel reimbursement."
Arthur smiled slightly and, without ceremony, sat directly in the chair opposite Fury.
He even propped his legs up on the desk.
"Of course it's official business."
Arthur interlaced his fingers over his stomach and looked at Fury:
"I plan to start a company."
"A company specifically for operating superhero business."
"I figured for something like this, I should give a heads-up to the head of the Agents, right?"
"A company?"
Fury froze, his already dark face instantly turning even darker.
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Arthur:
"Operating superheroes?"
"What are you trying to do? Do you want to quit the Avengers?"
"Or are you trying to set up your own shop and work against us?"
In Fury's view, the Avengers were already the most powerful collection of supernatural forces on Earth.
For this Homelander to suddenly want his own operation was not just a division of power, but an extremely dangerous signal.
If such power escaped oversight (though it wasn't being overseen much now anyway), the consequences would be unimaginable.
"Relax, Nick. Don't be so sensitive."
Arthur waved his hand with a 'you're thinking too small' expression:
"I didn't say I was quitting the Avengers."
"I am still a core member of the Avengers and will still fight for Earth's peace."
"But as you know, I am the symbol of America, the faith of the people."
"In this country, reputation is everything."
"Relying solely on the Avengers' half-dead PR capabilities is far from enough, in my opinion."
"I need a more professional team and more commercialized operations to accumulate enough fame for myself."
"After all, only when everyone loves and respects me do I have the motivation to save them, right?"
Fury fell silent.
He looked into Arthur's eyes, which were unabashedly full of ambition, and calculated rapidly in his mind.
This guy wants to treat superheroes like celebrities?
It sounded absurd, but on second thought...
It didn't seem like a bad way to control him?
Since he cared about fame and the cheers of the foolish masses,
it meant he had a weakness, a tether.
A Homelander who wanted to be a star was much easier to deal with than a Homelander who wanted to destroy the World.
Furthermore,
if a company was established, it meant accepting legal oversight, paying taxes, and having a fixed place of business.
This would actually make it easier for S.H.I.E.L.D. to monitor his movements.
More importantly,
this lawless individual actually came to report to him first.
What did that indicate?
It showed that in his subconscious, he still recognized the existing order and authority.
This was good.
Very good.
Having thought this through, Fury's furrowed brow relaxed slightly.
"Fine."
Fury nodded, returning to his business-as-usual tone:
"Since you want to start a business, I have no reason to stop you."
"In this country, everyone has the right to pursue wealth."
"Regarding your company registration and the approvals involving supernatural affairs..."
Fury pondered for a moment before giving an official response:
"I'll arrange for someone to handle it."
"But as you know, the review process for such special qualifications is complex and involves many departments."
"It will take about two to three weeks for the paperwork to be completed."
"Two to three weeks?"
The smile on Arthur's face vanished instantly.
He lowered his legs, stood up, and walked over to Fury.
That mountain-like, terrifying aura made Fury feel as if breathing was difficult.
"Nick, are you joking with me?"
Arthur's voice turned cold:
"You're telling me to wait three weeks?"
"That's too long."
"I can't wait."
"Can you make it faster?"
This was not a request.
It was an order.
An order from a god to a mortal.
Fury looked at the faint red sparks flickering in the depths of Arthur's eyes and swallowed hard.
"Fine."
Fury gritted his teeth, forced to compromise:
"I'll handle it personally then."
"I'll use the highest authority and take the fast-track lane."
"Three days."
Fury held up three fingers:
"Within three days, I will have all the licenses and documents delivered to you."
"That is the absolute limit."
Upon hearing this answer, the frost on Arthur's face instantly thawed.
He put back on that bright, sunny smile.
The change in expression was faster than flipping a page in a book.
"That's more like it, Director."
Arthur reached out and patted Fury heavily on the shoulder, nearly knocking the old Agent apart:
"This is the efficiency S.H.I.E.L.D. should have."
"I knew it. In this country, there's nothing you can't get done."
"Then it's a deal."
Arthur straightened his cape and turned toward the shattered floor-to-ceiling window.
"In three days, I expect to see what I want."
"See you, Nick."
BOOM!!!
A massive sound erupted.
Arthur once again turned into a streak of light and vanished into the horizon.
Leaving behind a floor full of glass shards and a dark-faced Nick Fury.
"That bastard..."
Fury rubbed his aching shoulder and looked out the window, his gaze deep.
Meanwhile,
speeding through the high altitude, Arthur was in a quite good mood.
With the official paperwork settled, next,
it was time to find the person who could help him actually get the company running.
In this World full of legal statutes and gray areas,
fists alone weren't enough.
He also needed a legal advisor who was smart enough, ruthless enough, and understood the rules well enough.
Someone who could handle all the dirty work and also make the black seem white.
In Arthur's mind, a name was instantly locked in.
That man who worked under Kingpin, wore glasses, looked refined, but was ruthless.
James Wesley.
"It's you then."
Arthur adjusted his direction in the air and flew toward Hells Kitchen in New York.
"Rather than being a nanny for that fat man,"
"I think you'd be much more willing to work for a god, wouldn't you?"
"After all, my benefits are very good."
Chapter 48: What If You Have No One Left to Serve?
New York, Hells Kitchen.
In the shadows of this city of sin, there stands a building that isn't particularly tall.
But it is definitely a building at the core of power, Fisk Tower.
On the top floor of this building is the absolute domain belonging to Kingpin, Wilson Fisk.
No one can enter here without an appointment.
Not even the mayor.
At this moment.
That man, with a body as massive as a mountain of flesh.
Was standing in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city he regarded as his private property.
And behind him, a man wearing glasses and a well-tailored suit.
Was holding a document, reporting on work in a steady tone.
"Mr. Fisk, regarding the reconstruction project of the West Side Pier, the union side has been settled."
"The foreman who led the trouble unfortunately met with a car accident this morning."
"Additionally, the Russians hope to increase their cargo volume by twenty percent..."
James Wesley pushed up his glasses, his voice calm.
Meanwhile.
Ten thousand meters high in the sky.
Arthur hovered among the clouds, his eyes slightly closed.
Super Hearing fully activated.
The sounds of all New York flooded into his eardrums like a tide.
The sound of traffic, arguments, gunshots, and even the squeaking of rats in the Underground Room.
But he automatically filtered out these noises.
His attention was precisely locked onto that calm voice on the top floor of Fisk Tower.
"...the Russians..."
Arthur frowned.
"How boring."
"I have no interest in these gangster house-playing games."
He didn't want to hear this nonsense; he only wanted that person.
"Since I've found him, let's settle this quickly."
Boom!!!
A slight sonic boom exploded in the clouds.
The next second.
Fisk Tower, top-floor office.
Wesley, who was reporting on work, suddenly felt a blur before his eyes.
A powerful air pressure appeared out of thin air without warning, making the documents in his hand rustle loudly.
In the originally quiet office, a person suddenly appeared.
A man wearing a deep blue combat suit, with a red cape slowly draping behind him.
He stood there abruptly in the center of the office, hands on his hips.
With that "kindly" smile on his face that was familiar to all the people of the United States.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Arthur's voice broke the deathly silence.
Kingpin turned around abruptly, an astonishing killing intent instantly erupting in those eyes like a Beast.
He subconsciously gripped the diamond-encrusted cane in his hand.
His whole body's muscles tensed up, like a violent bear ready to strike.
This was instinct.
Anger at the invasion of his territory.
However.
When he saw the face of the newcomer and that iconic uniform.
The killing intent in Kingpin's eyes instantly froze.
The hand holding the cane also involuntarily loosened a bit.
"Homelander?"
Kingpin's voice was low and raspy, carrying a hint of disbelief.
Beside him, Wesley was even more startled, taking half a step back, his glasses nearly sliding off.
As the head of intelligence, he knew all too well what this man before him represented.
That was a walking human nuclear bomb!
A god that even the military could not contend with!
"You... why are you here?"
Wesley suppressed the shock in his heart, trying to maintain a facade of composure.
Arthur paid no heed to Kingpin's wary gaze.
He completely ignored this underground emperor of New York and walked straight up to Wesley.
Those shimmering eyes looked the man up and down.
Calm, rational, loyal, and that aura of a refined scoundrel.
"Not bad."
Arthur nodded with satisfaction.
"You look a bit more pleasing to the eye than you do on TV."
"Wesley, right?"
Arthur reached out and naturally patted Wesley on the shoulder:
"Pack your things and come with me."
"Wha... what?"
Wesley was stunned, thinking he had misheard.
"Come with me."
Arthur repeated, his tone matter-of-fact:
"I plan to start a Superhero Company, just like how you run a gang, except I'll be legal."
"I need a smart person to help me manage those trivial matters."
"I've taken a liking to you."
"As for the compensation..."
Arthur pointed to this luxurious office, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes:
"Don't worry, it's definitely a hundred times better than working for this fat pig."
"Whether it's money, status, or power."
Hearing the words "fat pig."
Kingpin's eye twitched violently.
In this city, it had been many years since anyone dared to call him that to his face.
The grass on the grave of the last person who called him that was already three meters high.
But facing Arthur, Kingpin held back.
He took a deep breath, and a very strained smile squeezed onto his fleshy face.
"Mr. Homelander."
Kingpin took a step forward, his massive body trying to shield Wesley:
"I wonder if there's some misunderstanding here?"
"Wesley is my friend and an indispensable partner of the Fisk Group."
"Isn't it a bit against the rules for you to barge in like this and demand someone?"
"Rules?"
Arthur didn't even look at Kingpin, still staring at Wesley:
"My rules are the rules."
Wesley felt the overwhelming pressure washing over him.
But he did not back down.
He pushed up his glasses and looked at Arthur with a firm gaze.
Though his tone was respectful, his refusal was categorical:
"Thank you very much for your high regard, Mr. Homelander."
"It's an offer that's hard to refuse."
"But I stay here not for money, nor for status."
"I am loyal to Mr. Fisk."
"This point will not change, no matter what terms you offer."
Hearing this, a smug smile appeared on Kingpin's face.
He was very satisfied.
This was the person he trusted most.
"You heard him, Mr. Homelander."
Kingpin spread his hands, a hint of confidence entering his tone:
"A forced melon is not sweet."
"Although you possess god-like power and have official backing."
"Our Fisk Group is also a serious major taxpayer and is protected by the law."
"As an American hero, surely you can't kidnap a man in broad daylight?"
As Kingpin spoke, he naturally rotated the cane in his hand.
In that instant.
His finger lightly pressed a button on the wolf-head handle of the cane.
A covert signal was instantly sent out.
It was a top-level assembly order!
Target: Top floor of Fisk Tower!
Subjects: Bullseye, Rhino, Gravestone, and those three damn Enforcers!
Although Kingpin knew that even all of them combined might not be enough to fight Homelander.
But he was Kingpin.
He from never put all his eggs in one basket.
As long as he could stall for even a single second.
He would have a chance to activate the building's defense system or even escape.
However, his tiny movements.
Were as clear as a slow-motion replay before Arthur's Super Senses.
"Heh."
Arthur laughed.
He slowly turned his head, those blue eyes looking directly at Kingpin for the first time.
Deep within his eyes, two red flames began to flicker faintly.
"Wilson Fisk."
"Do you really think I can't see your little tricks?"
Kingpin's smile froze on his face, and a layer of cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.
"Do you think calling a few circus Jokers over will save your life?"
Arthur took a step forward.
That Bio-electric Field, as heavy as a mountain, instantly erupted.
Crack!
The marble floor beneath Kingpin's feet instantly cracked.
This underworld emperor, who could talk and laugh even when facing Daredevil.
Now only felt difficulty breathing, his legs even feeling a bit weak.
"I don't like people playing tricks in front of me."
Arthur's voice was ice-cold:
"Especially a rat like you hiding in the sewers."
"I gave you face because this dog of yours is somewhat useful."
"But if you want to die..."
Arthur's eyes suddenly lit up, the red light flaring!
The surrounding air instantly heated up, becoming scorched.
"I don't mind turning you into a pile of roast meat right now."
"Believe me, without you, New York's crime rate might even drop by a few percentage points."
Fear.
Pure fear instantly enveloped Kingpin's entire body.
He could clearly feel that the man before him was not joking.
He really would kill him!
And it would be as simple as crushing an ant!
"No! Please stop!"
Just then, Wesley rushed forward and shielded Kingpin.
Even facing that terrifying Heat Vision, his legs were trembling, but he still did not back down.
"Mr. Homelander! Please calm down!"
Wesley shouted loudly:
"If you kill Mr. Fisk, the entire underworld of New York will fall into chaos!"
"And... and I will absolutely never work for you!"
"I swear it!"
"I am only loyal to him alone! There will never be a second!"
Hearing this.
The red light in Arthur's eyes paused slightly.
He looked at this man who would defend his Master even in the face of Death, a strange smile appearing on his face.
"How touching."
"What a picture of deep loyalty between Master and servant."
Arthur clapped his hands, his tone full of mockery.
"However, Wesley."
"You seem to have misunderstood one thing."
Arthur lowered his head slightly and leaned in to Wesley's ear:
"You say you won't serve a second person?"
"Then what if..."
"There is no longer a first person in this World?"
"What if you have no one left to serve?"
"Then wouldn't your talent go to waste?"
Wesley's pupils shrank suddenly.
A chill rushed from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
He understood what Arthur meant.
It was a naked threat!
If you don't come with me, then I'll kill your Master, leaving you with nowhere to go!
"You..."
Wesley was about to speak.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
In the hallway outside the office, a series of dense and heavy footsteps suddenly echoed.
It was the reinforcements Kingpin had summoned arriving.
Arthur turned his head slightly, looking toward the closed door.
The red light in his eyes did not dissipate; instead, it grew even more intense.
"It seems some bugs are impatient to come and seek their Deaths."
Chapter 49: Cleverness May Overreach Itself
"Bang—!!!"
The thick mahogany door of the office burst open instantly, as if struck by a cannonball.
Wood splinters flew everywhere.
A massive figure, a giant man clad in heavy gray armor.
With his head down, he charged in like an out-of-control tank.
Rhino, Aleksei.
Behind him, several figures in strange costumes filed in one after another.
Bullseye, playing with playing cards and throwing knives in his hands.
Gravestone, with skin as pale as a zombie's.
There were also several well-equipped elite gang thugs.
It was practically an all-star lineup of the New York underworld.
They quickly fanned out, attempting to surround the blue figure standing in the center of the office.
However.
Their steps were very light, even somewhat stiff.
Even the not-so-bright Rhino.
When seeing that bright red star-spangled cape, his originally arrogant aura instantly diminished by half.
That was Homelander!
A monster who set off an alien fleet like fireworks on TV!
"This is your trump card?"
Arthur didn't even turn his body, only slightly tilting his head.
He glanced at this group of so-called reinforcements out of the corner of his eye.
His gaze was filled with disappointment.
"A bunch of circus clowns?"
"Wilson, are you insulting my eyes?"
With his subordinates present, Kingpin's confidence as an underworld emperor seemed to return a bit.
He straightened his tie and gripped his cane tightly again.
That massive body once again exuded a sense of pressure.
"Mr. Homelander."
Kingpin's voice was low and powerful:
"This is Fisk Tower, private property."
"Wesley is my employee and my family."
"He has clearly rejected your invitation. As a superhero admired by all of America, are you really going to resort to taking him by force?"
Kingpin was gambling.
He gambled that this superhero, who constantly spoke of "America," "law," and "justice" on TV.
Would never dare to openly go on a killing spree here without any evidence.
As long as he didn't kill, then this was just a business dispute!
"Moreover."
Kingpin took a step forward, his tone carrying a hint of inducement:
"There's no need for us to get so tense."
"As long as you're willing to let Wesley go, I can have him handle some legal trifles for you in the capacity of a consultant."
"The Fisk Group is willing to be your friend, whether you need funding or some inconvenient channels."
This was Kingpin's method.
The carrot and the stick.
Although his stick didn't even count as a toothpick in Arthur's eyes.
Arthur looked at Kingpin's fat face, which was full of calculation.
He then glanced at Bullseye nearby, who was gripping a throwing knife with palms full of sweat.
Yet Bullseye still stared fixedly at his neck.
Suddenly.
He laughed.
"Heh."
"Interesting."
Arthur shook his head, the red light in his eyes slowly fading away.
"Kingpin, you are indeed a smart man."
"You know how to use rules, and you know how to use people's hearts."
"But..."
Arthur raised his hand and pointed at Kingpin's forehead:
"Sometimes, cleverness may overreach itself."
Kingpin froze for a moment; he instinctively sensed danger.
Bullseye's fingers tightened, and the throwing knife was almost about to leave his hand.
However.
Boom!!!
A sonic boom exploded in the narrow office!
Before anyone could react.
Arthur's figure had already vanished from the spot.
Leaving only a gust of wild wind that blew Kingpin's expensive desk into a mess.
"He... he left?"
Wesley pushed up his glasses, somewhat in disbelief.
That decisive and ruthless Homelander just left like that?
Kingpin also let out a long breath, his back already soaked in cold sweat.
"Look, he still has concerns."
Kingpin sneered, thinking he had won the gamble:
"So-called superheroes, once they put on that halo, it's the same as putting on shackles."
...
Ten thousand meters up in the sky.
Arthur floated above the clouds, looking down at the tiny Fisk Tower below.
"Concerns?"
"Shackles?"
He scoffed in his heart.
If he killed Kingpin there, what would he gain besides dirtying the floor?
Just a few hundred popularity points.
It might even be written by the media as "Homelander breaks into private residence and kills the innocent."
That's a losing deal!
He, Arthur, never makes a losing deal!
Since he was going to kill, he had to do it grandly!
Kill so that all of New York would cheer!
Kill so that popularity points would skyrocket!
He took out his phone and skillfully dialed that number.
"Hello, Jonah."
Arthur's voice carried a hint of uncontrollable excitement:
"Stop scolding people in the office."
"Take all your reporters, all your photographers, even the security guards at the door."
"And those helicopters of yours, send them all out for me!"
"Target: Hells Kitchen, Fisk Tower."
On the other end of the phone, Jameson was clearly stunned: "Mr. Homelander? That's Kingpin's territory..."
"I know whose territory it is."
Arthur interrupted him, his tone becoming incredibly cold, yet exuding a sense of sacred and inviolable justice:
"Tell all of New York."
"Homelander has discovered a massive criminal den."
"I am going to perform there—publicly, transparently, and for the future of America—"
"An execution of justice!"
"I want everyone to see with their own eyes how I dig this tumor out of the body of New York!"
"This is the big news! Jonah! This is the damn Pulitzer you wanted!"
Chapter 50: Homelander is going to cause trouble!
Daily Bugle Building.
Jameson had just hung up the phone, his mustache-clad face instantly turning flush red, as if he had just swallowed a whole bottle of whiskey.
"Eddie! Eddie!!"
Jameson rushed out of his office and roared at the editorial department outside:
"Stop writing that damn gossip news!"
"Everyone, move it!"
"Grab your cameras! Bring spare batteries! Get that helicopter gathering dust on the roof in the air!"
"Target: Hells Kitchen, Fisk Tower!"
"Homelander says there's big news there! Huge news!"
The entire newspaper office instantly erupted.
Not just the Daily Bugle, but also the New York Times, CNN, Fox...
Almost all the media in New York got wind of it at the same time.
Homelander is going to cause trouble!
...
Ten minutes later.
Above Fisk Tower.
The originally quiet wealthy district was now drowned out by a massive roar.
Over a dozen news helicopters circled the building.
Countless camera lenses were aimed densely at the broken floor-to-ceiling window.
Inside the top-floor office.
A wild wind poured in, making the curtains flap loudly.
Kingpin stood by the window, looking at the swarm of helicopters outside like a plague of locusts.
His fleshy face was filled with bewilderment.
"What's going on?"
Kingpin turned his head, his fierce little eyes staring fixedly at Wesley:
"Do we have any business that absolutely must be on the front page?"
Wesley pushed up his glasses, a layer of fine cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
He quickly flipped through a tablet and then shook his head:
"No, sir."
"We've been very low-key lately; there's no sign of any leaks."
"Then what are these damn flies doing here?!"
Kingpin gritted his teeth, and the diamond-encrusted cane in his hand thudded heavily against the floor, making a dull sound.
He hated these reporters the most.
Like a bunch of slugs you can't shake off.
Just as Kingpin was about to order the security department to drive away these helicopters.
BOOM!!!
A familiar sonic boom exploded in his office once again.
The already shattered floor-to-ceiling window was completely reduced to dust.
Kingpin whipped his head around.
He saw that blue figure, hovering in mid-air like a god.
Slowly descending onto the floor covered in glass shards.
The red cape draped down, and the golden epaulettes shined.
That suffocating sense of pressure once again shrouded the entire room.
"Homelander!"
Kingpin's pupils constricted.
"Quick! Call someone!"
Without needing his command, the thugs who had been lying in wait in the next room instantly rushed out.
"Bang!"
The wall was smashed through.
Rhino, wearing heavy grey armor, charged into the office like an out-of-control bulldozer, roaring.
Closely following him was Bullseye, with playing cards in his hand and a sinister look in his eyes.
Along with several battle-hardened elite mercenaries.
They quickly spread out, surrounding Arthur.
However.
Looking at the man standing in the center, who didn't even bother to look them in the eye.
Rhino's steps were a bit shaky, and an uneasy low growl came from his throat.
Bullseye's fingers were also trembling slightly; he couldn't bring himself to throw that lethal playing card.
A person's reputation is like a tree's shadow.
Facing this monster who could tear apart a battleship with his bare hands, who wouldn't tremble?
Seeing his subordinates in place, Kingpin felt a bit more confident.
He straightened his tie and took a step forward with his massive frame, trying not to be outdone in presence.
"Mr. Homelander."
Kingpin's voice was low and powerful, carrying a hint of offended anger:
"Why have you returned?"
"Is this the style of a superhero?"
"Trespassing? Kidnapping a citizen?"
"I thought we had just reached a consensus."
Arthur stood with his hands on his hips, wearing that smile that felt like a spring breeze.
"Consensus?"
"No, no, no, Wilson."
Arthur extended a finger and wagged it gently:
"I think you've misunderstood."
"I only left just now to prepare a little prop."
"As for now..."
Arthur's gaze bypassed Kingpin and landed on the nervous Wesley:
"I said, I'm taking this man today."
"No one can stop me."
"Not even Jesus."
"You!"
Kingpin's face instantly darkened.
But he was the underground emperor of New York after all, and he quickly calmed down.
He glanced at the helicopters circling outside and suddenly started laughing.
That smile was full of calculation and triumph.
"Hahahaha!"
Kingpin pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, unhurriedly clipped it, and lit it.
He took a deep drag and blew out a smoke ring.
"Homelander, I know what you're thinking."
Kingpin pointed at the golden 'A' on Arthur's chest:
"You are the symbol of America, the incarnation of light."
"What you care about most is your reputation and the applause of those foolish masses."
Kingpin walked to the window and pointed at the lenses filming outside:
"Look outside."
"Dozens of cameras, hundreds of lenses, are aimed right here."
"The whole World is watching."
Kingpin turned around, a look of victory on his face:
"Do you dare to make a move?"
"If you dare to start a fight here, in full view of the public, just to snatch my employee..."
"Or even kill someone."
"Then guess what tomorrow's headline will be?"
"'Homelander Abuses Violence'?'Superhero or Super Thug'?"
Kingpin became more and more triumphant as he spoke; he felt he had grasped the reins of this beast:
"When that happens, your approval rating will plummet."
"The glorious image you've built will collapse."
"Is it worth it for a lawyer?"
Although Rhino next to him was dim-witted, he felt it made a lot of sense hearing his boss say this.
He said in a muffled voice:
"That's right! Try touching us! I'll just lie on the ground and extort you!"
Kingpin nodded with satisfaction and took a puff of his cigar.
He looked as if he had everything under control.
In his view, this kind of 'hero' bound by reputation was the easiest to deal with.
As long as there were moral shackles, they were just declawed tigers.
However.
Facing Kingpin's threat.
The smile on Arthur's face didn't disappear; instead, it became even more 'amiable.'
It even carried a hint of pity, as if looking at someone mentally disabled.
"Brilliant."
Arthur clapped his hands.
"Truly, Wilson, your logic is perfect."
"But..."
Arthur leaned forward slightly, and a dangerous red light began to flicker in his deep blue eyes.
"Have you mistaken one thing?"
"What?" Kingpin was stunned, that feeling of unease surging in his heart again.
"Do you think those reporters outside are here to watch me snatch someone?"
Arthur pointed at the helicopters outside, a playful smirk curling his lips:
"What if I told you..."
"Those helicopters, those reporters, even that live broadcast signal..."
"...were all called here by me?"
"What?!"
Kingpin's hand holding the cigar shook violently, and hot ash fell onto the back of his hand, but he didn't even notice.
A chill rushed from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
"You... you called them?"
Wesley's face turned even paler, his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose.
As a smart man, he instantly understood what this meant.
If it really was the media called by Homelander...
Then it meant the script had been written long ago!
"Exactly."
Arthur nodded, the red light in his eyes growing brighter, and the surrounding air began to warp from the high temperature.
"Who said I'm here to snatch someone?"
"I'm here to—"
Sizzle—!
Two points of crimson light converged deep in his pupils.
Arthur's voice became divine and majestic, spreading throughout New York via the audio equipment outside:
"Fight Terrorists!"
"Wilson Fisk, you are suspected of colluding with Alien forces and endangering national security."
"Now, on behalf of America."
"I shall carry out—Justice's Judgment!"
Kingpin looked at those eyes about to erupt and finally understood what despair meant.
How the hell is this a superhero?
This is clearly a demon in human skin!
"Do it! Kill him!!"
Kingpin let out a shrill roar.
But it was all too late.
BOOM!!!
Chapter 51: This is Homelander! Never Show Mercy!
"Roar—!!!"
The Rhino, Aleksei, clad in his heavy grey armor, clearly hadn't grasped the situation yet.
Or perhaps his brain capacity was simply insufficient to understand the chasm in their power.
Like an enraged bull, he lowered his head.
That sharp titanium alloy horn aimed straight at Arthur's chest.
The floor beneath his feet shattered.
Carrying dozens of tons of impact force, the Rhino roared and charged!
"Courting death."
Arthur didn't even move a single step.
He simply raised his left hand slightly.
Bang!
A dull thud echoed.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment.
The collision, powerful enough to bring down a building, came to an abrupt and jarring halt.
Arthur's palm was pressed firmly against the Rhino's horn.
He didn't budge an inch.
"This... this is impossible!"
The Rhino's small eyes widened beneath his heavy armor; he felt as if he had crashed into a mountain range.
"Nothing is impossible."
A cruel smile curled at the corner of Arthur's mouth.
"In your next life, remember not to be the first one to stick your neck out."
Before the words even faded.
His fingers suddenly exerted force.
Crack!
The indestructible titanium alloy horn was crushed into two pieces.
Immediately after.
Arthur's palm pressed down following the momentum.
Squelch!
There was no resistance.
The Rhino's massive head, along with the heavy armor he was so proud of...
...was slammed directly into his chest cavity!
It was like smashing a watermelon!
Red and white matter instantly exploded, splattering across the surrounding floor and walls.
The massive body twitched once and then fell silent.
It slumped to the ground like a pile of scrap metal.
The entire place fell into a deathly silence.
*Gulp...*
Beside him, Gravestone—the mob enforcer whose skin was said to be as hard as diamond and impervious to blades and bullets...
...his face had now turned even paler than his nickname.
His vaunted defense was a complete joke compared to the Rhino who had just been crushed.
"Your turn."
Arthur turned his head, his eyes—still glowing with a red light—locking onto him.
Gravestone trembled all over and turned to flee.
But in Arthur's eyes, his speed was as slow as a still frame.
Whoosh—
Arthur's figure vanished instantly.
When he reappeared, he was already standing behind Gravestone.
"Your skin is very hard?"
Arthur's voice was like a demon's whisper.
He slowly reached out, not with a fist, but with his fingers joined like a blade.
Pfft!
A soft sound.
The hand plunged into Gravestone's back without resistance, piercing straight through his chest!
That diamond-hard skin...
...was no different from a sheet of A4 paper before the power of Silver Superman.
Arthur's hand emerged from Gravestone's chest.
In his hand, he held a heart that was still faintly beating.
Pop.
He gave it a light squeeze.
The heart burst.
Arthur tossed Gravestone's corpse aside like he was throwing away trash.
Finally.
His gaze fell upon the one who had been hiding at the very back.
Bullseye, who was trembling while clutching playing cards in his hands.
"I heard your throwing technique is very accurate?"
"Never miss a shot?"
Bullseye was on the verge of a breakdown.
The precision he took such pride in was meaningless before this monster.
He didn't even have the courage to make a move.
"Don't... don't come any closer!"
Bullseye screamed, frantically throwing the playing cards in his hands.
Swish, swish, swish!
Those specially-made playing cards, capable of slicing through throats...
...hit an invisible wall three feet in front of Arthur.
Clattering, they fell to the floor.
"Too weak."
Arthur shook his head, his face filled with disappointment.
His figure flashed, and he appeared directly in front of Bullseye.
His hands gripped Bullseye's shoulders.
"Since you like cutting things so much,"
"then I'll let you experience what it feels like to be cut open."
Rip—!!!
The sound of tearing muscle rang out.
Under the horrified yet excited gaze of countless viewers around the World.
The famous assassin, Bullseye...
...was torn in half right down the middle by Arthur, just like ripping a piece of scrap paper!
Blood rained down.
Bathed in the rain of blood, Arthur's blue suit remained spotless.
The Bio-electric Field kept all the filth away.
Standing amidst the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, he straightened his cape.
That calm and elegant smile remained on his face.
"Dear viewers."
"This is the consequence of crime."
And outside the window.
Eddie Brock, in the helicopter, had gone completely wild.
He held up his camera, pressing the shutter so fast it was practically smoking, while frantically commentating into the microphone:
"Did you see that?! Did you see that?!"
"This is the iron fist of justice!"
"This is the attitude one should have towards evil!"
"No trial! No nonsense! Only absolute power and judgment!"
"Long live Homelander! Long live America!"
In the corner of the office.
Kingpin watched this scene, completely terrified.
His fat face, usually imposing without even being angry, was now as pale as paper.
The fat on his face trembled uncontrollably.
Dead?
All dead?
These supervillains he had spent a fortune to maintain, these ruthless characters who were enough to give the entire New York Police Department a headache...
...couldn't even last a second before this man?!
"Mon... monster..."
Kingpin finally realized what a foolish mistake he had made.
He had tried to use the rules of mortals to bind a god.
He had tried to use public opinion to kidnap a tyrant who could flip the table at any moment.
"Run! I must run!"
The instinct for survival overcame his fear.
Kingpin spun around, his thick legs churning as he rushed toward the office's secret passage.
He still had a secret elevator!
It led straight to the underground garage!
As long as he could get to the car, he still had a chance to escape this hell!
However.
Arthur did not give chase.
He didn't even look back at Kingpin.
He just stood there, with a playful look in his eyes.
Watching Kingpin sprint down the hallway through his Super Vision.
"Run, Wilson."
"Run to your heart's content."
Arthur sneered inwardly:
"On this stage controlled by me, where can you possibly run?"
He methodically finished off all the small fry at the scene.
Those elite mercenaries were nothing more than a flick of a finger to him.
Until there wasn't a single living enemy left in the entire top-floor office.
Only then did Arthur slowly walk toward the massive, shattered floor-to-ceiling window.
At this time.
Kingpin had just reached the secret elevator entrance, his hands trembling as he punched in the code.
Arthur was in no hurry at all.
His feet left the ground, and his body slowly floated out.
He moved to the exterior of the building.
He rose slowly.
Until he was hovering dozens of meters above the top of Fisk Tower.
Around him, over a dozen news helicopters immediately swarmed in.
All lenses were aimed at this god-like man.
Arthur turned in mid-air, with his back to the Sun.
The golden sunlight gilded him with a divine glow, and his red cape fluttered loudly in the wind.
He looked into the camera, his face wearing a compassionate expression filled with a sense of duty.
"Citizens of New York, fellow countrymen of the entire United States."
Arthur's voice echoed over the city through loudspeakers:
"Do you know what is hidden inside this building?"
"Sin."
"Endless sin."
He pointed at Fisk Tower beneath his feet, his tone mournful:
"Drugs, arms, human trafficking... even colluding with aliens!"
"This is the true face of the Fisk Group! This is the dirty business behind Wilson Fisk, that hypocrite who calls himself a philanthropist!"
"Our laws cannot punish him; our Police cannot catch him."
"Because he used money to corrupt justice and power to cover up the truth!"
Arthur's voice gradually grew higher, filled with provocation:
"But today!"
"I am here!"
"I represent America, and every one of you who thirsts for justice!"
"I am here to eradicate this tumor! To end this empire of sin!"
"I, Homelander, never compromise with evil!"
"For this kind of societal cancer, the only treatment is—"
Arthur's eyes snapped open.
Two bursts of blindingly intense crimson light erupted from his pupils instantly!
That was...
...a terrifying temperature of fifteen million degrees!
"Complete excision!"
Sizzle—!!!
Two massive beams of Heat Vision, even thicker than a helicopter...
...like swords of divine punishment sent by God...
...blasted straight toward Fisk Tower below with World-shattering momentum!
At this moment.
Kingpin had just gotten into his custom armored sedan and was about to start the engine.
Suddenly.
An indescribable wave of heat struck from above.
He looked up.
And saw only a sea of red light.
That was the last sight he would ever see in his life.
"No—!!!"
Rumble—!!!
Under the shocked gaze of the entire World.
The entire Fisk Tower, starting from the top floor...
...instantly melted, disintegrated, and even vaporized under that terrifying heat!
Steel rebar turned into molten iron; concrete turned into ash.
There was no violent explosion.
Only a hair-raising "sizzling" sound.
Like pouring boiling water onto snow.
In just a few seconds.
The skyscraper that once represented the power of New York's underworld...
...completely vanished in plain sight!
In its place remained only a bottomless pit, its edges still flowing with magma.
As for Kingpin inside, and all those evidences of crime?
Not even a single molecule remained.
[Ding! Epic shock and fear detected! popularity points are skyrocketing!]
[Ding! popularity points +200,000!]
[Ding! popularity points +300,000...]
Arthur hovered above the massive pit, looking down at the scorched earth still emitting steam.
He slowly raised his head and gave a sacred and solemn smile to the camera.
"This is Homelander! Never show mercy!"
Chapter 52: Since He's a God, He Must Have a God's Industry!
Heat waves rolled.
At the edge of the massive crater, lava was still slowly flowing.
Arthur hovered in mid-air, his red cape fluttering loudly in the hot wind.
He lowered his head slightly and looked toward the camera lenses.
A smile full of security and divinity appeared on his face.
"You're welcome."
"This is the meaning of my existence."
"You can always believe in Homelander."
After saying that.
He didn't spare another glance at the crater that once represented the dark power of New York.
His knees bent slightly.
Boom!!!
A deafening sonic boom instantly exploded.
In that instant, the air seemed to be torn apart.
Arthur transformed into a golden stream of light, shooting straight into the sky!
He was so fast that he even left a visible white Mach ring in the sky that lingered for a long time.
"Oh! My God!"
On the helicopter, Eddie Brock looked at the figure disappearing into the horizon, trembling with excitement.
He held the microphone and roared hoarsely at the camera:
"Did you see that?! Viewers!"
"This is efficiency!"
"This is justice!"
"No trial, no bail; Homelander never goes soft on evil!"
"Clean! Decisive!"
"He is the guardian deity of New York! He is the light of America!"
As Eddie's highly inflammatory commentary spread to thousands of households through the signal.
The system prompts in Arthur's mind began to flood like crazy.
[Ding! Epic shock and national frenzy detected!]
[Ding! popularity points +500,000!]
[Ding! popularity points +800,000!]
[Ding! popularity points +1,200,000...]
[Ding! Congratulations to the host! Cumulative popularity points from a single event have exceeded 5 million!]
[Your reputation level has been upgraded to: Making a Name for Yourself!]
Ten thousand meters high in the sky.
Arthur listened to the pleasant prompts, and the smile on his face was harder to suppress than an AK47.
Five million!
This wave was simply a massive profit!
Is this the value of a live execution?
Sure enough.
Violent aesthetics are the best sickle for harvesting popularity!
Without any hesitation.
Arthur directly opened the system panel.
With this huge sum of five million, he had to spend some!
"System, add points for me!"
"Upgrade Frost Breath!"
Since Heat Vision had already been enhanced to ten million degrees, the other signature skill couldn't be left behind.
A combination of ice and fire—that's what you call perfect.
[Ding! Consumed 5 million popularity points!]
[Frost Breath is being enhanced... Enhancement complete!]
[Current Frost Breath temperature: Absolute Zero (-273.15°C)!]
Boom!
An extreme chill instantly surged in Arthur's lungs.
He felt that if he just took a light breath now.
He could freeze a building into an ice sculpture, then with a light tap, it would shatter into powder.
Absolute Zero!
This is a terrifyingly low temperature that can even stop molecular motion!
"Awesome!"
Arthur clenched his fists, feeling the powerful force of ice and fire intertwined within his body.
This feeling of constantly getting stronger and breaking through limits was truly captivating.
...
After calming his excitement.
Arthur slowed down and hovered above the clouds.
And beside him.
A man in a suit and glasses.
Was curled up, pale-faced, inside a thin, transparent membrane.
That was Arthur's Bio-electric Field.
James Wesley.
This Military counselor, whom Kingpin trusted most, was currently looking at Arthur in terror, as if he were looking at a monster.
Just now.
A microsecond before those two World-destroying beams of Heat Vision were about to engulf the entire Fisk Tower.
He only felt a blur before his eyes.
Then his whole person was pulled out by an invincible force.
That speed was extreme, so fast that even thoughts couldn't keep up.
By the time he regained his senses.
He was already ten thousand meters high in the sky, with tiny clouds beneath his feet.
And that man was looking at him with a half-smile.
"How is it, Wesley?"
Arthur crossed his arms.
"I said."
"If there's no longer a 'number one' in this World."
"Wouldn't your talent be wasted?"
Wesley trembled all over.
He looked down.
It was cloudless now.
There, the once-unrivaled Fisk Tower had been completely erased from the map.
Along with the underground emperor Kingpin, to whom he had once sworn loyalty, everything had turned into nothingness.
No one knew he was still alive.
In everyone's perception, he had been buried with the building along with Kingpin.
"You... you did it on purpose..."
Wesley's voice was extremely dry.
"Of course."
Arthur nodded as if it were only natural:
"You are Kingpin's chief strategist, after all. If I were to keep you by my side openly, the media and the public would gossip."
"I am the perfect Homelander; my reputation cannot have a single blemish."
"So..."
Arthur leaned in closer, his eyes, which still held a trace of chill, staring at Wesley:
"Legally, you are already a dead man."
"You have no way back and no choice."
"Either fall from here and truly become a dead man."
"Or, change your identity and be my dog."
Arthur reached out and lightly patted Wesley's cheek:
"Tell me, what is your choice?"
Wesley looked into those cold eyes and then at the abyss beneath his feet.
He was a smart man.
He was also an extremely rational person.
Kingpin was dead, so dead that not even crumbs remained.
So-called loyalty seemed so pale and powerless in the face of absolute strength.
Moreover.
Working for a mob boss who could only rule the New York underworld.
Versus working for a man who could tear apart warships with his bare hands, withstand nuclear bombs, and was regarded as a god by the whole World.
Even a fool would know how to choose given the gap between the two.
Wesley took a deep breath and pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
Then.
In mid-air, he lowered his head with extreme respect.
"Boss."
"Wesley is at your disposal."
"Very good."
Arthur smiled with satisfaction.
He liked people who knew how to adapt to the situation.
"In that case, let's get to work."
Arthur pulled a black card from his coat and casually stuffed it into Wesley's pocket.
"Go and register a company for me."
"The name will be—Homelander Group (Homelander Corp)."
"As for the office location, I think that big pit I just burned out is not bad. The land should be very cheap. Buy it and build me a tower even taller than Stark Tower."
Wesley was stunned for a moment, then quickly stepped into his role:
"Boss, what kind of business do you plan to operate?"
"Business?"
Arthur looked at the city below, his eyes flashing with the light of ambition:
"Managing superheroes, of course."
"Movies, merchandise, reality shows, security services, even renting out superhumans to the Military..."
"I'm going to turn the word 'hero' into the most profitable business in the World!"
"Since I'm a god, I must have a god's industry!"
"Understood."
A sharp light flashed in Wesley's eyes.
This massive commercial blueprint.
Was much more challenging and tempting than helping Kingpin manage those shady drug businesses.
"I will handle everything, Boss."
"Behind the scenes."
Arthur nodded.
"Go then."
"Don't let me down."
After saying that.
He dove down with Wesley and dropped him in an inconspicuous corner of New York.
Then he soared into the sky again, disappearing into the clouds.
...
An hour later.
Daily Bugle Building.
Eddie Brock, carrying his huge camera bag, rushed into the editor-in-chief's office like a whirlwind.
"Boss! Boss!"
"Photos! All exclusives!"
Eddie was so excited his face was flushed, and he slammed the camera onto the desk.
J. Jonah Jameson was sitting in his executive chair.
Looking at the soaring stock price of the Daily Bugle on his computer screen, he couldn't stop smiling.
Seeing Eddie come in, he rarely didn't roar; instead, he stood up and gave Eddie a big hug.
"Hahaha! Great job, kid!"
"I saw the live broadcast just now! It was simply art! Perfect art!"
"Our Daily Bugle's stock price is going crazy!"
Jameson let go of Eddie and impatiently picked up the camera, starting to flip through the photos inside.
The first one.
It was Arthur hovering in space, with his back to the Sun, looking like God.
The second one.
It was the moment Arthur fired Heat Vision from his eyes, leveling Fisk Tower.
The red light and the collapsing building were full of destructive beauty.
"Sss—"
Jameson gasped, his hands trembling slightly.
"This lighting! This composition! This sense of oppression!"
"Eddie! You've really done a great service this time!"
Jameson slammed the table hard, his shrewd eyes filled with the light of greed:
"Quick! Notify the printing plant!"
"Print all these photos!"
"For tomorrow's newspaper, I want everyone in New York—no, everyone in the United States—to have a copy!"
"I've already thought of the headline—"
Jameson waved his hand, as if he could already see money flying everywhere:
""God's Punishment Descends! Homelander Purges the City of Sin!""
"This time, we're going to make a fortune again!"
Chapter 53: The Restriction Act
Online, on television, in every street and alley.
The name 'Homelander' had completely transformed into a religious symbol.
For the ordinary citizens who had endured enough harassment from gangs,
who were sick of a justice system bound by procedure yet powerless to punish evil,
this wave of action was an absolute thrill, exhilarating to the core!
What procedural justice?
What rights of the accused?
To hell with that!
What we want is this kind of simple, brutal divine retribution!
"Well done! This is the hero we need!"
"That fat bastard Kingpin should have died ages ago! I heard he bribed judges? Good, now he can go bribe Satan in hell!"
"Long live Homelander! Long live America!"
On social media, approval ratings skyrocketed like a Rocket.
Even the most critical left-leaning media outlets, faced with such overwhelming public sentiment,
didn't dare casually publish a single critical article.
However,
human joys and sorrows do not connect.
While the common people cheered the Death of a villain,
the atmosphere in a top-tier private mansion on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., was stifling to the point of suffocation.
An extremely private cocktail party was being held here.
No waitstaff, no models.
Even the high-level assistants who were usually inseparable from them had been banished kilometers away from the estate.
In this drawing room adorned with expensive oil paintings,
every person seated here, if taken individually, could make Washington's political scene tremble with a single stamp of their foot.
Senator Stern.
That fat man who once tried to forcibly seize Iron Man's armor during a congressional hearing,
and was later exposed as a HYDRA mole.
He was now sweating profusely, holding a handkerchief and constantly wiping his forehead.
Around him were several high-ranking officials from the Department of Defense and the Department of Justice.
There were even two tycoons presiding over vast commercial empires.
They had one thing in common.
That was their names.
All had appeared, to a greater or lesser extent, in the ledger from Kingpin's incinerated safe.
"Ahem."
Stern cleared his throat, his hand holding the decanter trembling slightly.
He personally poured red wine for everyone present.
"Everyone, I believe you've all seen today's headlines."
Stern forced a smile uglier than crying and raised his glass:
"That... Homelander has once again represented the will of America, eliminating a cancer that has plagued New York for years."
"This is a victory for justice, a victory for the people."
"Come, let's toast to the great Homelander!"
Everyone raised their glasses with stiff expressions.
"Cheers..."
"To Homelander..."
The voices were scattered, tinged with a sense of guilt and sarcasm.
The red wine went down their throats like a bitter poison.
After setting down his glass, Stern looked around.
He confirmed the curtains were tightly drawn, confirmed no electronic devices were recording.
The layer of hypocritical smile on his face instantly collapsed.
Replacing it was deep-seated fear and malice.
"Enough, drop the act."
Stern plopped down on the sofa, his expensive suit wrinkling under him:
"There are no outsiders here, no stupid voters who only know how to scream."
"Let's speak frankly."
"What are your thoughts on that flying Homelander?"
An awkward silence descended.
Finally, a senior official from the Department of Justice loosened his tie and spoke with irritation:
"What else is there to think?"
"He's a madman! A complete and utter madman!"
"No search warrant, no arrest warrant, he doesn't even need a decent reason!"
The official pointed a trembling finger at the man smiling atop the rubble on the TV screen:
"He just melted an entire building! Along with everyone inside!"
"What do you call that? That's vigilantism! That's a massacre!"
"If the law allowed this, what use are people like us? What use are judges?"
Another tycoon sneered, swirling the wine in his glass:
"Old friend, don't bring up that legal nonsense."
"Laws are meant to constrain mortals, to constrain those poor devils who can't afford lawyers."
"But that guy..."
A flash of deep apprehension crossed the tycoon's eyes:
"He can withstand nuclear bombs with his bare body, he can turn alien fleets into fireworks."
"Do you think a copy of the Constitution can stop his Heat Vision?"
This statement hit the sore spot for everyone present.
In the past, they could control anyone with capital, power, or public opinion.
Even someone as unruly as Tony Stark
had to obediently attend the hearings, didn't he?
But this Homelander...
He was different.
Completely different.
"What worries me most isn't his power."
Stern said with a grim face:
"The Avengers have monsters too. That green Hulk is plenty destructive."
"But, the Avengers at least operate within the framework of S.H.I.E.L.D."
"That one-eyed bastard Nick Fury is annoying, but he understands the rules."
"The Avengers report before action, consider collateral damage, they even feel remorse when things go wrong."
"That means they're still human. They have moral shackles, they have vulnerabilities, so they are controllable."
At this point, Stern took a large gulp of wine, his voice turning sharp:
"But this Homelander!"
"He's a completely uncontrollable variable!"
"I've seen the internal reports leaked from S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Nick Fury has approached him more than once, wanting to bring him under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s command structure."
"And the result?"
"The guy completely ignored him! Even threatened to dismantle the Triskelion to his face!"
"The attitude he displays is only one thing—"
Stern imitated that condescending tone:
"I do whatever I want."
This capriciousness was what the powerful figures in the room feared most.
Because in their eyes, uncontrollable power was the greatest threat.
"And..."
The Department of Justice official swallowed and voiced the deepest fear in everyone's hearts:
"Kingpin was a crime boss, but he had... certain business dealings with many of us here."
"Since Homelander could, in the name of justice, incinerate Kingpin into ash without warning,"
"does that mean..."
The official's voice trembled:
"if one day he's in a bad mood, or decides we're dirty too,"
"he might just..."
"fly straight into our bedrooms and give us a dose of his Heat Vision?"
Dead silence.
The entire drawing room instantly fell into a deathly quiet.
Only the wall clock made a "tick, tock" sound.
Like a countdown to everyone's fate.
No one dared speak.
Because this was the real reason they had gathered here tonight.
Fear of Death.
They usually spouted phrases like "national security," "planetary crisis."
But in reality, they only cared about whether their own seats were secure, whether their own heads were still attached.
A super-hero unbound by law, possessing god-like power, and decisive in killing,
was the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.
"We can't let him run wild like this any longer."
Stern broke the silence, his gaze turning vicious:
"We must do something."
"We cannot sit and wait for Death."
"We must push for legislation!"
The tycoon, also a shrewd man, immediately picked up the thread:
"Exactly! A Restriction Act!"
"Just like the one for Mutants back in the day!"
"We need legislation to force all superhumans to accept government oversight and registration!"
"Especially high-risk individuals like Homelander!"
"We need to put a leash on this Beast!"
"But..."
The Department of Justice official hesitated.
"The public strongly supports him now, they even worship him like a god. If we target him rashly, our approval ratings will plummet."
"Foolish!"
Stern cursed:
"Public opinion can be guided!"
"A hero today can be a threat tomorrow!"
"Are the media resources in our hands just for show?"
"With a little guidance, emphasizing the potential risks his uncontrollable power brings,"
"emphasizing that 'no one is above the law,'"
"those foolish masses will start to doubt, to fear."
"Once the seed of fear is planted, he's no longer a god, he's a monster!"
Stern stood up and continued:
"Furthermore, I will contact the Military and S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Research into countermeasures against Homelander must receive increased investment."
"Even if we have to empty the national treasury, we must find something that can kill him!"
"Agreed."
"Seconded."
"It must be done."
Everyone present nodded in succession.
At the end of this cocktail party, filled with cigar smoke and the scent of conspiracy,
they reached a consensus.
In this country, no uncontrollable power would be allowed to exist.
Even if you are the so-called 'Homelander.'