When the Lockes raised their heads again, they began their usual meeting. The first topic was the study of the popularity points system.
Hogwarts Locke: "First, according to my recent research, I've discovered that although our popularity points have always been negative, that doesn't actually affect the use of basic functions."
One Piece Locke: "I've been trying to learn Haki. I plan to at least master Armament Haki first. I haven't earned any points yet, but I've realized something—even though we've locked in our fixed character cards, since we are the same person, we can still exchange character cards with each other."
After the system's basic functions were restored, each Locke had locked in their character card and officially begun their role-playing games.
One Piece Locke's choice was a martial artist who loved to fight—commonly known as the old man selling fruit, the character Garp from the world of One Piece.
Hokage Locke chose Megumi Fushiguro from the Jujutsu Kaisen universe, simply because he possessed the Ten Shadows Technique, which suited a child of the Nara clan.
Hogwarts Locke was more unique. He chose a character with terrifying growth potential and a very high ceiling, but also a very low floor.
The Tarnished from the game Elden Ring—the eventual Elden Lord.
This led to a rather awkward problem: popularity points were like experience points for them. Developing any character card required a huge investment, and the Elden Lord card, which Hogwarts Locke had chosen, was particularly expensive.
Therefore, the top priority now was figuring out how to earn a large number of popularity points.
The Boys Locke: "I tried completing missions earlier. I caught two Vought superheroes, but the points weren't great—one gave 12, the other 18. In terms of strength, the first was actually stronger than the second. The only way to get more is if I get more attention. I think I need to start building my reputation to earn points."
Hogwarts Locke: "But that's still way too low. We owe over 2,000 points. That means we need to catch at least 200 heroes. Does Vought even have that many?"
The Boys Locke: "Actually, they do. Vought has around 230 signed superheroes. If we 'hunt' them according to the system's requirements, we could pay off the debt. But the problem is that's not realistic. So I've prepared a plan."
Hearing that The Boys Locke had a plan, the others immediately perked up and asked:
"What plan?"
The Boys Locke didn't answer verbally. Instead, he reached out his hand, and the others quickly caught on, sharing memories and powers through contact.
After sharing the memory, Hokage Locke rubbed his chin and nodded thoughtfully.
"So you're going to replicate how Garou rose to prominence. Besides the points from basic hunting, we might be able to make much faster progress."
The Boys Locke: "Yeah. Although this system is easy to use, it's too vague. How do we earn more points? What's the purpose of points besides upgrading star ranks? Will new forms unlock after upgrading? We don't know any of this."
One Piece Locke: "There are pros and cons. At least now we can still exploit bugs. Let's not rush. But I think this time is also an opportunity."
As they recalled everything The Boys Locke had endured, they not only felt a deep resonance but also felt the anger in their hearts kindle.
But when they thought about The Boys Locke's plan, if it succeeded, they wouldn't just get to breathe easier—they might be able to pay off all their debt at once.
So the three Lockes exchanged glances and came to an agreement.
[Popularity Points Updated]
[40 → 76]
[76 → 138]
The Boys Locke looked at his changed popularity points and felt warmth in his heart. Hokage Locke gave him a thumbs up, imitating a certain pervert in green tights, and said with a smile:
"Go for it. We want to see the blood flow like a river."
————————————————————————————————————————————
"Homelander is throwing a party?"
"Yes, a victory celebration for superheroes. It's going to be held at Vought Tower. Only superheroes are invited. No humans allowed."
"Did you hear? Homelander is throwing a party at Vought! Even a lot of the old-timers have been invited. Almost everyone's been invited."
"What? They're going to announce a new Seven? Queen Maeve and Starlight are out?"
"Black Noir's off the list? Does that incident really have that much impact? What's PR doing?"
"Tek Knight is going? And the Young Americans? Elemental Power? What is Vought trying to do, gather all the superheroes together?"
The more the former vice president of Vought, Legend, thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. He made call after call—from his old colleagues at Vought to acquaintances in other superhero groups. The answer was the same: Vought was planning something big.
Given his qualifications and connections, he should have been invited to an event of this scale. But somehow, an inexplicable unease hung in his heart, like a thin thorn buried under his skin. He kept feeling that something was wrong.
It wasn't until he heard news from an old friend on the board of directors that his suspicions were fully confirmed. Homelander had openly spoken up for Stan and asked the board to revote on the resolution for temporary leave.
Although Homelander was naive and arrogant, he wasn't stupid enough to do something like this. After all, it was Stan who had pushed for his resignation. Now this move was no different from fighting with himself.
Therefore, Vought's recent abnormalities must have been caused by some change he hadn't yet guessed.
At this moment, the sharp instincts of the businessman in his bones surged. He thought it over again and again—something was wrong, definitely wrong.
With that, he didn't hesitate. He dialed an old acquaintance at Vought. As soon as the call connected, he dispensed with pleasantries and got straight to the point:
"Hey, Tek. Help me get in touch with Stan. I need to find him about something... Oh, and by the way, get me an invitation to tomorrow's party... Of course, I have to be there for such a lively event."
Legend hung up the phone, his heart like a ball of cotton soaked in water—suffocating and panicked. He held a cigar between his fingertips and took a long drag, blowing out urgent, dense smoke rings. The sharp taste of nicotine flooded his throat, but it did nothing to suppress the heaviness in his heart. He could only smoke one after another, letting the ash grow long on the tip.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. It was a soft chime at first, and he ignored it, curled up on the sofa, assuming it was a delivery person who had the wrong address.
But the person outside wasn't leaving. The bell rang more insistently, the rhythm growing faster and faster—from the first single chime to a rapid, staccato burst, the bell hammer pounding against the door panel and echoing into the room, making his temples throb.
Legend finally couldn't take it anymore. He sat up abruptly and yelled toward the door: "I didn't order takeout! Get lost!"
But as soon as the words left his mouth, the apartment's solid wood door slammed open with a crash, hitting the wall so hard that chunks of plaster fell. A group of people burst in through the doorway. As the main figure appeared, Legend's pupils contracted sharply. The cigar in his hand nearly dropped, and he froze in place, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
"Soldier Boy?" He spoke, his voice full of disbelief.
"Hey, Legend." Soldier Boy waved a hand casually, brushing dust from his body with such familiarity that it seemed like he was just visiting an old friend. "Got any powder? Give me some."
With that, he immediately walked over and sat down on the sofa next to Legend. Butcher behind him leaned against the doorframe, gave Legend a crooked smile, and nodded in greeting.
Legend's brain buzzed. He thought he was hallucinating from smoking too much, seeing a ghost. He rubbed his eyes, repeatedly confirming that the chiseled face and unruly manner were unmistakably Soldier Boy—a man who had supposedly died decades ago. Only now, looking back, did he realize the man had never died at all.
"Fuck! You're not dead?!" And you brought this piece of shit to my house looking for trouble?! Legend suddenly snapped out of it, pointing at Butcher and cursing, his voice a mix of shock and anger.
Butcher glanced at him, offering no defense. He just kept his eyes fixed on Soldier Boy, making sure the old man didn't cause any trouble on a whim.
Soldier Boy, for his part, couldn't care less. He sprawled back on the sofa, crossing his legs, his relaxed demeanor no different from when he had been at Vought.
"This piece of shit you're pointing at pulled me out of an ice box in that hellhole in Russia," he said casually, tapping his fingers on his knees. "So I promised to do him a favor—kill someone."
"Kill someone?" Legend's voice shot up, panic flashing in his eyes. He almost blurted out: "Homelander?"
Seeing Soldier Boy nod casually, Legend's mind suddenly cleared. All the doubts that had been piling up—Vought's unusual behavior, Homelander's strange moves, Butcher's sudden appearance—in that moment, they were like scattered beads being threaded together. The causes and consequences became terrifyingly clear.
He suddenly leaped off the sofa, moving so quickly he didn't look like an old man with a prosthetic leg at all. He reached down and unlatched the buckle on his left leg prosthetic with a crisp click. The cold metal limb was charged with intensity as he clenched his teeth and roared:
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
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