The wind on the rooftop howled through the smoke and dust. Homelander, who had just regained consciousness after a brief faint, had bloodshot eyes. The searing heat vision around him nearly ignited the air, while beneath his flesh, seriously wounded by Locke, a dull ache still throbbed.
He shook his head, forcing the dizziness from his mind. Amid the roar of the wind, his ears caught the muffled sound of fist strikes, instantly drawing his full attention.
Looking toward the source, the scene before him made his pupils contract sharply: that bastard in the black liquid armor was beating Soldier Boy against a shattered wall.
In terms of combat power, Soldier Boy's tough skin, dense flesh, and high durability were his main advantages. But facing a ruthless, highly skilled fighter like Locke, he was completely outmatched.
Locke's movements were so fast they left only afterimages, completely immersing Soldier Boy in a world of rapid combat he was unfamiliar with.
At least twelve powerful blows landed on Soldier Boy's vital points every second, each strike so fierce it tore through the air.
Even if Soldier Boy managed to land thirty or forty hits, he could barely seize an opening for a counterattack. But every clumsy start was precisely anticipated by Locke, who used it to deliver even more brutal suppression and blows.
Homelander and Soldier Boy—father and son—had always believed in overwhelming force, brute strength, and a brutal fighting style.
This was the first time they had encountered someone like Locke, whose raw power was inferior to theirs, yet who completely overwhelmed his opponents with ultimate technique and agile posture. For a time, both were thrown into disarray, their mental states already teetering on the edge.
But at this moment, what surged in Homelander's heart wasn't anger at defeat. Instead, a strange feeling gripped him—it was the most humble desire for paternal love, the one he had wanted to sever but which still remained.
Watching his "biological father" being suppressed and beaten into submission, the remaining bonds instantly ignited.
He hesitated no longer. His teeth clenched, the energy around him suddenly exploded, and he shot into the air, seizing the moment to lunge at Locke. He wrapped his arms around Locke's torso in a bear hug, ignoring Locke's attacks, and crashed straight through the rooftop dome, bursting out of the collapsing Vought Tower.
He held Locke and rushed madly between the skyscrapers of Manhattan's business district. Solid reinforced concrete crumbled like foam under the force of their collision. Tall buildings along the way were gouged with terrible gashes, and glass curtain walls shattered into pieces, raining down like a torrential downpour.
The streets below instantly turned into a hellscape. Screams of passersby tore through the thunderous roars one after another.
Some were cut by falling glass, some buried under collapsing walls. The fleeing crowd pushed and trampled each other, cries of despair intertwining with the muffled sounds of collapsing buildings, completely tearing apart the vibrant bustle of the business district.
At the same time, the floors that had collapsed from Vought Tower had already crashed to the ground. The earth trembled with a booming roar, and thick smoke and dust rose dozens of meters high, instantly engulfing half a block.
Survivors cowered behind the ruins. Vought Tower, already riddled with holes, twisted and deformed visibly due to the destruction of all its core load-bearing structures and the complete failure of its stress points.
The outer walls peeled off in large chunks. Broken steel bars were exposed like the shattered tendons and bones of a giant beast. Some floors had separated from the main structure, hanging in the air and crumbling, threatening to collapse at any moment and drag more sections into ruin.
The reporters who had been holding cameras, trying to capture this extreme scene, had long since fled. Their cameras had slipped from their weak hands, smashing to pieces.
They stared at the scene as if witnessing a natural disaster, their blood nearly freezing, their teeth chattering uncontrollably. The fear that people had long buried deep in their hearts—the fear they dared not speak of—was becoming reality in the most tragic way possible.
The threat had never been so-called natural disasters, but the superhumans themselves—beings with the power to destroy the world yet lacking any sense of reverence.
"Help! Over here!"
Suddenly, an urgent cry snapped them out of their daze. Hughie, shirtless, his shoulders still bleeding, gritted his teeth as he carried two severely injured passersby on the verge of death. His figure suddenly appeared before them, gravel crunching under his feet. His face was covered in sweat and dust, his breathing so rapid it seemed he might explode, but he didn't stop for long.
The reporters snapped out of it, brushing dust from their faces, dropping their cameras, and stumbling forward to help the severely injured passersby. Seeing this, Hughie only gave a hurried nod, then vanished again—he had to continue weaving through the ruins of the collapsing building, searching for more trapped survivors.
On a street corner, Golden Boy Luke stood at the edge of the smoke and dust, watching everything intently. The hypocrisy and carnival of the superhero party, Locke's back as he saved him, and the determination to save people shirtless at this moment... Countless images intertwined in his mind, and an emotion he had never experienced before surged in his chest, overwhelming the fear in his heart.
"Luke?"
A familiar voice called out. Golden Boy snapped his head around to see his good brother Andre, holding his girlfriend Cate's hand, both looking panicked, ready to flee into the distance.
Seeing Golden Boy standing frozen, they were stunned.
Golden Boy was silent for a moment. His eyes gradually grew more resolute, moving from initial confusion. He spoke, word by word: "I'm not leaving."
"What kind of crazy talk is that?" Cate's emotions instantly flared, her voice tearful as she grabbed his arm. "If you don't leave now, it'll be too late! Didn't you see Homelander's destructive heat vision? We're just Godolkin students! There's no point getting involved in this mess!"
Andre was also anxious, stomping his foot: "Luke, don't be stubborn! We can't handle this!"
Golden Boy gently pulled free from their grasp and shook his head firmly.
He looked at Vought Tower, on the verge of total collapse, where the air was filled with smoke and dust, and faint wails could be heard. "I know," he said, his voice not loud but carrying undeniable resolve. "But I... I want to be a real hero."
The moment the words left his mouth, Golden Boy's body suddenly erupted with raging flames. Orange-red fire blazed brilliantly against the gray smoke.
He took a deep breath and suddenly leaped, transforming into a fiery meteor flying straight toward Vought Tower, which was about to collapse completely.
Under countless pairs of terrified eyes, he pressed himself against a massive wall on the verge of falling. The flames wrapped around his body like a weak but steadfast barrier, holding back the rubble from the crowd below.