Soldier Boy's roar echoed through the corridor.
The clone—Hang—stood still, watching the erratic purple patterns writhing beneath his skin.
The energy anchor points left behind by the Alchemy Law were recording everything—every fluctuation, every tremor in the genetic chains, every trace of Compound V flowing through his body.
This was the source of superpowers on this Earth.
Soldier Boy raised his head, gray-white pupils flashing with violent red light.
He opened his mouth. Dark crimson energy surged from deep within his throat.
The temperature in the corridor skyrocketed. The air began to warp.
Starlight's face turned pale.
She could feel her skin burning, her breathing growing labored. The light-energy barrier she formed with both hands began to collapse under the heat—it couldn't hold.
A transparent barrier appeared in front of her.
Soldier Boy's energy blast slammed into it, erupting in a blinding flash—yet the barrier didn't budge.
Starlight froze, then turned to look at Hang's clone. He hadn't even raised a hand. He simply stood there, watching calmly, like he was observing a specimen.
Soldier Boy roared and charged forward. His massive frame—over two meters tall—shattered the ground with every step.
He raised his right fist. The purple patterns blazed wildly, his entire arm swelling like a tree trunk.
The punch came down.
Hang lifted his left hand, fingers spread.
Golden runes unfurled across his palm, forming a miniature matrix. The punch struck it—its force absorbed, transformed into another form of energy, then funneled back into Soldier Boy's body along the purple pathways.
Soldier Boy's body jolted—and stopped.
He looked down at his arm. The glow of the purple patterns became chaotic, the energy no longer flowing along its original paths.
Hang stepped forward and placed his right hand on Soldier Boy's chest.
The Alchemy Law activated at full power.
Golden runes spread from his palm, crawling across the body, seeping into every purple vein, every energy node.
Hang wanted to see exactly how Compound V turned humans into biological weapons.
Soldier Boy struggled to retreat—but his body wouldn't obey. The golden runes bound him like chains.
Starlight watched, her palms sweating. She wanted to help—but had no idea how. This was no longer a clash of strength.
Hang's consciousness sank into Soldier Boy's body.
Chaos.
Purple energy surged like a flood, crashing through shattered genetic chains.
Each impact tore cells apart. Each repair only made the energy more violent. It was an endless cycle of self-destruction—one that had persisted for seventy years.
Soldier Boy's consciousness had long since shattered. Fragments of memory floated within the energy torrent—pain and rage.
The harsh white lights of a laboratory. A cold operating table. Needles piercing veins. Figures in white coats with indifferent eyes.
Hang saw the original form of Compound V.
Not the stabilized formula of later years—but a crude mixture of three enzyme extracts taken from superpowered beings. No buffers. No inhibitors. No safeguards.
Back then, Vought had simply forced power into human bodies—and waited to see who survived.
Soldier Boy had survived.
But he had lost everything.
The Alchemy Law began to operate. Hang wasn't suppressing the power—he was redefining its mode of existence.
Golden runes wove new pathways within the energy flood, guiding the chaotic purple energy into proper channels. Not blocking—redirecting.
Soldier Boy's body trembled violently. The purple patterns flickered erratically, the energy growing even more unstable.
He opened his mouth to roar—but only broken groans emerged.
Starlight couldn't bear it anymore. She rushed forward, gathering light energy in her hands.
Hang didn't turn back. He simply raised his right hand and pressed down in the air.
An invisible force shoved Starlight back.
She gritted her teeth, light intensifying in her palms. She refused to just stand there.
But she knew—
She couldn't win.
"What are you trying to do?" Hang's voice rang out.
"Attack me with that little light of yours? Or attack him?"
Starlight froze.
"You can't beat me. And you can't save him."
"The only thing you can do right now… is stand there and watch."
"But he'll die."
"He won't."
Hang pressed harder against Soldier Boy's chest. More golden runes poured in.
"I'm not killing him."
"I'm saving him."
The energy storm inside Soldier Boy began to change. The chaotic purple energy was gradually guided into new pathways. The golden runes acted like river channels, diverting the flood.
But it wasn't enough.
Hang activated the Law of Life. A faint green light seeped from his palm, merging into Soldier Boy's body.
It repaired shattered genetic chains, soothed cellular damage, stabilized a life on the verge of collapse.
Soldier Boy's breathing slowed.
The purple patterns stopped flickering, stabilizing at a steady frequency. His swollen muscles receded, the vein-like bulges beneath his skin calming.
Most importantly—his eyes.
The red glow faded from his gray-white pupils, replaced by a trace of clarity.
Starlight was speechless with shock.
She had seen countless cases of Compound V going out of control. Those people either died on operating tables—or were quietly disposed of by Vought.
No one had ever come back from that state.
But this man had done it.
Hang withdrew his hand. The golden runes faded.
Soldier Boy stood there, chest heaving.
He looked down at his hands. The thick purple patterns had thinned, no longer glowing—resting quietly beneath his skin.
He clenched his fist. The power remained—but it was no longer wild, no longer a beast seeking to destroy everything.
He looked up. His pupils had returned to brown. His gaze fixed on Hang's face.
The face was unfamiliar—but the eyes filled him with fear. Not the fear of facing an enemy, but something deeper—like a brand carved into his soul.
He opened his mouth to speak—but only hoarse air escaped.
Seventy years without speech had degraded his vocal cords.
Hang didn't wait. Using the Mental Law, he transmitted directly into his mind.
"What's your name?"
Soldier Boy paused. A blurred memory surfaced—someone in a lab calling him by a designation.
"B-07."
"Not your designation. Your name."
Silence.
He couldn't remember. Only the lab remained—white lights, cold tables. Everything before that was blank.
"Then it's better forgotten," Hang said.
"From now on, your name is Benjamin."
Soldier Boy—Benjamin—didn't object. He simply stood there, waiting for the next command.
Hang watched him.
That reconstruction hadn't just repaired his genes—he had planted an anchor deep within Benjamin's consciousness.
Not control—guidance.
The anchor would make Benjamin instinctively follow his will, while retaining enough autonomy to avoid becoming a puppet.
That was the essence of alchemy.
Not destruction—reconstruction.
Starlight stepped forward, cautiously observing Benjamin. The destructive monster from before was gone. Though still imposing, his eyes were clear—almost confused.
"He's… really okay?"
"He is," Hang said.
"The side effects of Compound V have been suppressed. His genetic chains are repaired. He's now more stable than Homelander—and stronger."
"…Will he listen to you?"
Hang didn't answer. He turned to Benjamin and pointed toward the end of the corridor.
"Go over there. Break the wall."
Benjamin didn't hesitate. He walked forward and drove his fist into the concrete. The wall exploded open, leaving a two-meter-wide hole.
Then he stopped, turned, and looked at Hang—waiting.
Starlight inhaled sharply.
Not because of the power—but the obedience.
That punch had no hesitation, no wasted movement—like a machine executing a command.
But he wasn't a machine.
He was human.
"What did you do to him?"
"I gave him a reason to live," Hang said.
"His memories are shattered, his personality collapsed. Left alone, he'd lose control within three days and self-destruct. So I built a support point in his consciousness—to give him purpose."
"What purpose?"
"To serve me."
Hang's tone was calm—but it sent a chill through Starlight.
She looked at Benjamin. That absolute obedience in his eyes—it wasn't fear, nor coercion. It was genuine acceptance.
Like a soldier obeying a commander. Like a believer following a god.
She bit her lip, wanting to argue—but said nothing.
She realized this wasn't just another superhuman. Not one of Vought's fake heroes either.
This man operated on a level she couldn't comprehend—able to reshape a monster into a loyal warrior in minutes, to understand Compound V in ways Vought couldn't in seventy years.
What did someone like that want?
Hang turned and walked out of the corridor. Benjamin followed behind, steady, no longer radiating chaos.
Starlight hesitated—then followed.
They exited the abandoned facility and stepped onto the street. Dawn had broken. In the distance, sirens wailed—someone must have reported the explosion.
Hang stopped and looked up at the sky. His super hearing spread outward, capturing chaos across the globe.
Homelander had destroyed six Vought facilities. The military had lost nineteen aircraft. Governments worldwide were scrambling, holding emergency meetings.
Against an out-of-control superhuman, humanity had only one option—nuclear weapons.
But that would bring even greater disaster.
So they gambled.
Gambled that Homelander would stop. Gambled that someone could stop him.
Hang withdrew his senses and looked at Benjamin.
"Homelander is above the Atlantic, heading toward the U.S. East Coast."
"He's coming back," Hang said.
"He's vented his rage. Now he wants somewhere to hide. But he doesn't realize—this world won't accept him anymore."
Starlight looked up. "You're going to kill him?"
"No."
Hang shook his head.
"Killing him is easy—but meaningless. This world needs to see a fallen god. It needs to see the so-called strongest hero defeated. Only then will people understand—superhumans are not invincible."
He turned to her.
"If you want to become a real hero—come with me."
"I'll show you what true power is. What true order is."
Starlight froze.
She looked into his eyes. There was no madness like Homelander, no greed like Vought executives—just something she couldn't quite define.
She wanted to refuse. To walk away.
But her feet wouldn't move.
Because she knew—if she left now, she'd never learn what he truly intended.
More importantly—
She'd miss the only chance to stop Homelander.
She took a deep breath.
"I'll go with you. But on one condition."
"Say it."
"No matter what you're planning—you can't harm innocent people."
Hang looked at her for a few seconds—then smiled.
"You really think you can restrict me?"
She didn't back down.
"I know I can't beat you. But I can choose not to help you."
"If you want me with you, it means you need something from me."
Hang said nothing more. He turned and tore open a spatial rift.
Golden light flickered along its edges. Beyond it lay a distorted void.
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