The 72-hour countdown had three minutes remaining.
Lower Manhattan was empty.
No one on the streets. Shops closed. Cars abandoned at random. Traffic lights still blinked, but they were meaningless now.
In the distance, sirens wailed as the National Guard sealed off the area.
Above, helicopters circled, their cameras locked onto Wayne Industries Tower.
At the top floor—
Starlight stood at the edge of the rooftop. The wind stirred her hair, her armor gleaming under the sunlight.
She held a loudspeaker. Three drones hovered in front of her, red lights blinking—the broadcast was live worldwide.
Queen Maeve stood two meters behind her, arms crossed. Her armor was covered in scratches, left unrepaired.
The bruises on her face weren't concealed either—she wore them openly.
Starlight took a breath and raised the loudspeaker.
"Homelander, I know you're watching."
At least two billion people were glued to their screens.
Starlight stared straight into the camera.
"You say you're a god. A savior. That humanity needs you to rule."
"But you're just a product of Vought. A monster raised in a lab with needles. You've never seen the real world. You don't know what love or sacrifice means. You only prove yourself through violence—because aside from power, you have nothing."
Queen Maeve stepped forward.
"I worked with you for twelve years. Watched you pretend," she said. "But you were never a hero—you're a tyrant. You enjoy fear. You enjoy watching people kneel before you."
She paused.
"Now the whole world knows what you are. A narcissist. A spoiled child. A pathetic orphan who's never even seen his own mother."
Starlight continued:
"You want to prove you're a god? Then come. Defeat us in front of the entire world."
"Or admit you don't dare. Admit you only bully the defenseless."
The moment her words fell, a sonic boom split the sky.
A red-and-blue figure dove down from the clouds, leaving a white trail.
Homelander landed.
The concrete exploded beneath his feet, cracks spreading like a web. Dust billowed. Debris scattered.
He straightened, eyes glowing red. His suit was spotless, the golden eagle emblem on his chest shining.
He was smiling—but it looked twisted, almost monstrous.
"Traitors?"
He tilted his head, voice calm.
"You two insects really think a livestream will scare me? You think I wouldn't kill you in front of the whole world?"
Starlight stepped back half a pace, clenching her fists. Light energy gathered in her palms—but her hands trembled.
Maeve didn't move. She stared at him coldly.
"Do it."
Homelander laughed and spread his arms.
But he didn't attack.
He looked up—at the rooftop, the drones, the circling helicopters—then back at them.
Slowly, he began walking forward.
"You think I'll rush in and get jumped?" he sneered. "Naive. I've been at Vought for thirty years. There's no scheme I haven't seen."
Starlight's energy sphere flickered—but she didn't fire. He was right.
Maeve clenched her fists, muscles taut. She knew a direct fight wouldn't work—the only chance was to lure him inside, into the alchemical field.
"Scared?" Maeve mocked. "The great Homelander, afraid to fight two women?"
He stopped, twenty meters away.
"Taunting?" he tilted his head. "You think I'll fall for that?"
Maeve stepped forward.
"No. I think you don't dare."
"Because you know once you fight, the world will see your weakness. You looked impressive in the White House—but those were unarmed politicians. Now you're facing people who fight back."
Red light flickered in Homelander's eyes.
"You want to die."
"Then kill me," Maeve said, spreading her arms. "Do it. Burn me to ash in front of two billion people. Let them see how their 'god' slaughters his own teammates."
Homelander leaned forward—
Then stopped.
Something was off.
Starlight's position—too deliberate. Right by the rooftop door. If he charged, she could retreat instantly.
Maeve's stance—perfectly placed between the door and center.
He straightened.
"You're trying to lure me inside."
"There's a trap."
Starlight's heart raced. He'd seen through it.
Maeve's expression didn't change—but her palms were sweating.
Homelander threw his head back and laughed.
"You really think I'd fall for that?"
"I'll just blow up the whole building—let's see where you run!"
He raised his hand. Heat gathered in his palm, red light intensifying until the air itself warped.
Starlight's face went pale. If he targeted the structure, the building would collapse in thirty seconds.
She and Maeve might survive—but the Boys inside would be buried alive.
At that moment—
A figure burst out from the rooftop door.
Benjamin.
No words. He charged straight at Homelander, fist tearing through the air.
Homelander turned, raising his arm to block. The collision thundered like an explosion.
Shockwaves rippled outward, warping the rooftop railing.
Homelander staggered back two steps. He glanced down—faint red marks on his arm.
He looked up, eyes narrowing.
"Soldier Boy?"
"Vought froze you for seventy years. Who let you out?"
Benjamin didn't answer—he charged again.
His fighting style was raw and brutal. Straight punches, hooks, swings—every strike aimed to kill.
Homelander blocked, dodged, countered. The two clashed in brutal close combat.
Each impact cracked the concrete beneath them.
Benjamin's uppercut slammed into Homelander's jaw. His head snapped back—blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Homelander froze.
He touched his lip, staring at the blood on his fingers.
For the first time in thirty years—someone had made him bleed.
"You—!"
Rage exploded.
Heat vision blasted toward Benjamin's chest.
Benjamin rolled aside. The beam grazed his shoulder—armor melted, flesh burned.
But he gritted his teeth, grabbed Homelander's leg, and yanked hard.
Homelander lost balance and fell forward. Benjamin seized the moment, mounting his back and locking his arms around his throat.
Homelander struggled violently, slamming backward—his skull smashing into Benjamin's face.
Benjamin's nose shattered, blood spraying—but he didn't let go.
Homelander surged to his feet, charging backward with Benjamin still clinging on, crashing into a rooftop water tank.
Metal crumpled. Pipes burst. Water sprayed everywhere.
Benjamin was crushed between them—three ribs snapped—but his grip held.
"You psycho!" Homelander roared. "Get off me!"
He grabbed Benjamin's arm and ripped him off, flinging him across the rooftop. Benjamin smashed through the door into the stairwell.
Homelander panted, touching his neck. Deep bruises marked his skin.
He stared at the stairwell, killing intent boiling.
"Fine. You want to play? Let's play!"
He stepped into the building.
The moment his foot hit the floor—
Golden runes ignited across the ground, walls, ceiling.
The entire level transformed into a massive formation. Light wove into a spherical force field, trapping him inside.
Homelander staggered.
The Compound V in his body slowed, suppressed. His strength drained. His speed dropped. Even his heat vision flickered.
He tried to fly—rose thirty centimeters—then fell.
"What the hell is this?"
He stomped at the runes—but they were embedded deep within the structure. The harder he pressed, the brighter they glowed.
Inside the stairwell, Benjamin staggered to his feet. Broken ribs were already healing. Blood still covered his face—but his eyes were unwavering.
He rolled his shoulders—and charged again.
Homelander turned, throwing a punch.
Benjamin didn't dodge. He took it head-on—then grabbed Homelander and slammed him to the ground.
Concrete exploded beneath them.
Homelander tried to break free—but Benjamin pinned him, hammering punch after punch into his face.
Homelander blocked, then drove a knee into Benjamin's abdomen, launching him away.
Struggling up, Homelander wiped blood from his lips. His suit was torn in several places.
The field was weakening him—constantly.
From the shadows, footsteps approached.
Billy Butcher stepped out, coat swaying.
His eyes glowed faint gold. The alchemical serum in his body was active.
Homelander saw him—paused—then laughed.
"Billy Butcher?" he grinned. "The pathetic bastard whose wife I screwed? You've got the nerve to show up?"
Butcher said nothing. He clenched his fists. Golden patterns spread beneath his skin, converging at his chest.
Power surged through him.
"You know," he said calmly, "when Becca died, I swore I'd kill you."
"But back then, I was just human. Couldn't even touch you."
He stepped forward.
"Now it's different."
Homelander sneered. "You think some injection makes you my equal? You're still—"
He vanished mid-sentence.
Butcher moved too fast to see. Golden energy trailed behind him.
Before Homelander could react—
A punch smashed into his face.
He was sent flying, crashing through a wall into the next room.
Butcher stood still, looking at his fist. The skin was split, blood seeping—but he felt nothing.
Homelander crawled out of the rubble. His nose was crooked, blood streaming.
He touched his face, staring at the blood.
A human… made him bleed.
No—not just bleed. His cheekbone was cracked. Pain shot through his nerves.
Something he hadn't felt in thirty years.
"Impossible…" he muttered. "You're just insects… just ants…"
The air warped.
Hughie appeared behind him.
In his hand—a custom bolt launcher.
He fired.
The bolt pierced Homelander's neck, injecting anesthetic instantly.
Homelander roared, spinning, heat vision blasting—
Hughie teleported away, reappearing five meters back.
"Frenchie—now!"
Frenchie rushed in from the side, slamming both hands to the ground.
Matter Manipulation activated.
The metal rebar beneath the floor twisted and surged upward, wrapping around Homelander's legs like vines.
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