At the same time, Homelander continued to crash through buildings with Locke, dragging him down in a mutual destruction. But unexpectedly, he discovered that Locke's condition was worse than he had imagined.
"Weren't you fighting so well?" Homelander's face twisted into a mad, distorted smile, his arms straining desperately as he slammed Locke through wall after wall. "Destroying everything I had—now it's your turn!"
At this moment, he was possessed by an obsession with mutual annihilation. He completely ignored the pain of his own injuries, holding Locke and rampaging between buildings, scattering debris and bloody foam across the sky with each impact.
But after smashing through several buildings, Homelander suddenly felt something was wrong. The cracks in the black armor around Locke were growing deeper. The fierce resistance he had shown earlier was gradually weakening; even his struggles were becoming sluggish. His condition was far worse than Homelander had expected. It seemed the previous life-or-death battle with him and Soldier Boy had drained him too much, and he couldn't withstand this sustained assault. He was already on the verge of reaching his limit.
This discovery instantly restored the confidence of Homelander, who had been on the verge of collapse. The madness in his eyes faded slightly, and a bit more brutality crept into his control over the situation. Suddenly, he exerted force, lifting Locke straight into the sky. The airflow roared around them, the Manhattan area beneath their feet gradually shrinking from view. Then, he locked onto a hundred-meter-tall skyscraper and, with lightning momentum, plunged straight through it from top to bottom!
"Boom——!"
The sharp sound of fists tearing through the air, bodies shattering glass curtain walls, and the harsh screech of breaking steel bars intertwined and exploded.
Homelander held onto Locke the entire way. Floor slabs crumbled like paper, walls collapsed layer by layer, and the entire building began to rapidly disintegrate from the top down. Concrete blocks, twisted steel bars, and glass shards rained down like a torrential downpour, instantly turning the area into chaos.
The shockwave from the building's collapse swept through everything nearby. Low-rise buildings in the surrounding area toppled easily, vehicles were smashed beyond recognition, and surviving pedestrians were engulfed by smoke and debris before they could even scream, suffering nearly catastrophic impact.
But Homelander, thanks to his enhanced resistance after being knocked out by Locke before and the strengthened body from Compound Seven, had not suffered serious damage.
He quickly burst out from under several tons of building debris, activated his x-ray vision, and instantly penetrated through layers of ruins to lock onto Locke's position. His opponent was buried in the rubble, most of his black armor shattered, his breathing weak.
Homelander dove down with a ferocious smile. His eyes suddenly erupted with heat vision, the concentrated light striking Locke with precision. His roar shook the ruins, causing them to tremble slightly:
"Die! Die!!"
The temperature around them skyrocketed. The air was scorched and distorted. Broken steel bars and metal plates rapidly reddened and melted, turning into hot molten iron that seeped into the debris.
Under the assault of the heat vision, Locke's body was continuously pressed into the ground. The soil and rocks beneath him instantly melted into charred powder, gradually sinking into a deep pit.
Homelander had no intention of letting up. He hovered directly above Locke, channeling all his energy into his eyes. The heat vision grew increasingly concentrated, its color deepening to a dark red. He wanted to use this power to drive Locke straight through the center of the Earth, to completely annihilate this man who had humiliated him repeatedly in endless darkness.
But at this moment, the Armament Haki clinging to Locke's body was gradually changing, growing harder and more angular.
To be honest, Homelander's power was truly beyond his imagination. If he hadn't gone hunting for superhumans earlier, trading those hundreds of popularity points for combat experience, he might not have been able to kill him.
He had to admit, Homelander's outburst had nearly turned the tables on him. But unfortunately, compared to him, it was still far too lacking.
And this time, Locke had made the first move.
[4276 → 2276]
[Garou: Red-Haired (Semi-Monster) → Garou: Red-Haired (Monster)]
[Trait Upgraded]
[Limiter Release (10%) → Limiter Release (20%)]
But in the midst of the continuous laser output, Homelander suddenly noticed something was wrong.
Locke, who had been scorched by the heat vision until his flesh and blood were charred, his armor shattered, was now healing at a visible rate. The contracted black fluid gathered around him like a living thing, rapidly reconstructing itself across his body. Even the burn marks on his neck were gradually disappearing.
"How is this possible?!" Homelander's pupils suddenly contracted. He roared, trying to intensify his heat vision. But in the next second, Locke slowly rose from within the blazing light.
He raised his hand. His palm condensed a thick black fluid, pressing it against the front of the heat beam. With a sharp hiss, the originally concentrated light instantly split into several branches, like scattered blades, indiscriminately destroying the surrounding ruins. Twisted steel bars, debris, and hot metal fragments sprayed across the sky.
Locke's voice was cold and piercing, cutting through the deafening roar, carrying undisguised mockery:
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
These words were like ice water flooding Homelander's entire being. Extreme fear instantly gripped his body, shooting straight up his spine to the crown of his spirit.
His muscles tensed uncontrollably. Even his heat vision nearly faltered. The madness in his eyes was completely replaced by panic.
Now he understood. This man... might not be killable at all!
Before he could react, Locke's figure suddenly turned into a ghostly black shadow, instantly vanishing under the cover of the blinding light and smoke.
Homelander's scalp went numb. He instinctively tried to dodge, but he was already locked in.
The next second, a familiar oppressive feeling came from behind. Locke raised his hands high, swinging his fists in two completely different trajectories.
"Air Fist."
A low cry rang out. His fists struck Homelander's back with immense force!
"Boom——!!!"
————————————————————————————————————————————
The ninety-fourth floor of Vought Tower had long since become a horrific ruin. Half of the building had collapsed, tearing open a bloody gash. The unobstructed golden sunset poured inside, coating the shattered walls, exposed steel bars, and broken glass with a layer of dying warmth.
And in the gloomy shadows of the other half of the ruins crouched a twisted, strange humanoid creature.
Stan, consumed by intense hunger and madness, squatted among the scattered debris, frantically devouring the "buffet" Locke had left behind. His fingertips were stained with blood and residue, completely devoid of the elegant demeanor of Vought's former captain. He had fully abandoned his dignity, transformed into a hungry ghost.
He held food in one hand and a phone in the other, the screen displaying fragmented surveillance footage. His eyes were fixed on Locke's movements. He needed to confirm the end of this evil god to feel a moment of relief.
When the surveillance feed switched to the other side of the street, Stan's movements suddenly froze. The food in his mouth fell out. In the frame, Locke was dragging a blood-red cape, slowly emerging from the smoke and dust. Beneath the cape was Homelander, his limbs broken, his breath fading—this was Homelander, enhanced with Compound Seven, yet being dragged like a whimpering dog, powerless to resist.
The shadow of death instantly enveloped Stan like a tide. Cold fear shot up his spine to the crown of his spirit.
He looked at his own reflection in the river of blood, recalling all the sacrifices and compromises he had made over the past few days. Only one mad thought remained in his heart:
He couldn't die! He must not die here!
But in the next second, Locke suddenly disappeared from the surveillance screen.
Stan's pupils contracted sharply. His fingers frantically swiped across the screen, feverishly scanning through Manhattan's surveillance footage, trying to find that deadly dark shadow. At that moment, a heavy sense of oppression suddenly descended. A massive shadow slowly enveloped him, isolating the surrounding smoke and light.
Stan's body trembled uncontrollably. His teeth chattered. He could barely muster the strength to turn his head. He slowly rotated his neck and saw Locke standing behind him with a playful smile, his black armor still stained with the dust of the ruins. Beside Locke stood a shirtless, sweaty white man, breathing slightly heavily, his body slightly hunched.
"I really didn't expect this. You actually managed to develop something. Look at you now—what are you, a ghost?"
Stan was so terrified he couldn't even think. He turned and fled deeper into the floor.
But Locke was far faster than he imagined. In an instant, he caught up, grabbing Stan by the back of his neck with a force that nearly cracked his bones. Stan was roughly dragged toward the broken edge of the floor. The afterglow of the setting sun penetrated the sky, spilling across him.
The moment the sunlight touched Stan's skin, he suddenly erupted with sharp white smoke. His skin burned and festered at a visible rate. The searing pain made him scream, a heart-wrenching cry.
He frantically twisted his body, scrambling on all fours, trying to escape the deadly sunlight. But Locke's palms gripped him like iron pincers, not allowing him to move, forcing him to watch as he was burned alive in the brilliant light.
"Wait! We had a deal! We had a deal!!"
Watching Stan roar in pain, Locke's voice seemed so casual, as if he were crushing an annoying insect. He sneered:
"I changed my mind."
"Don't you want to know where Cyfer went?!" Stan seemed to grasp at his last straw. His broken vocal cords squeezed out pleas in desperate cries, the burning pain making his vision darken. "He's the root of your tragedy! If you kill me, you'll never find him! Let me go—I'll tell you who he really is!!"
"I know," Locke's voice was terrifyingly calm, as if he were stating something ordinary. "Thomas Godolkin, right?"
Stan's body suddenly went rigid. Even the searing pain seemed to pause for an instant.
His bloodshot eyes widened. Whatever sanity remained collapsed at that moment. His voice was filled with unbelievable terror:
"You... how do you know?"
Locke lowered his head, his eyes fixed on Stan's unrecognizable face. The corners of his lips curved into a cold arc.
"I," he paused, watching the light gradually fade from Stan's eyes, speaking word by word, "know everything."