Marvel : Mutant God

Pathetic!

Despite being mentally prepared, Richard felt disappointed that Homelander had lasted less than thirty seconds before losing consciousness. Based on what he'd just witnessed, Homelander's strength was significantly inferior to Superman's—he didn't even measure up to Ikaris of the Eternals.

Boring. Absolutely boring.

Richard sighed as he observed Homelander's unconscious form, still suspended in midair by his matter manipulation ability. After brief consideration, he used his telepathic powers to rouse the severely injured hero from unconsciousness.

"You're weaker than I anticipated," Richard said coldly to the battered Homelander.

Hearing this, Homelander's face initially contorted with rage. However, his anger quickly faded as intense pain radiated from every part of his body—a stark reminder of how Richard had used him as a human punching bag before he'd blacked out.

Who is he? How does he possess such overwhelming power? Is he Edgar's secret weapon to replace me?

Questions cascaded through Homelander's mind.

Though Richard refrained from using telepathy to read these thoughts, he could easily discern Homelander's concerns simply by watching his expressions. Despite being in his forties, Homelander had been raised as a commodity since childhood. Not only was he emotionally stunted—a textbook case of arrested development—but his ability to control his emotions was practically nonexistent. In private, his emotional control was worse than that of an average middle schooler.

Homelander remained silent, regarding Richard with a complex mixture of emotions.

Under his gaze, Richard spoke deliberately: "I'm giving you two options."

He held up one finger. "First, you become my subordinate and obey my every command. Whatever I tell you to do, you do it without question."

He raised a second finger. "Or I kill you right here, right now."

Richard lowered his hand. "You have ten seconds to decide."

With that, he released his matter manipulation hold, allowing Homelander to drop unceremoniously to the ground.

Ten seconds—neither particularly long nor especially short. The time passed quickly.

"I choose the first option," Homelander answered precisely as the final second elapsed.

Richard nodded with satisfaction. "Since you've chosen to serve me, here's your first assignment." His eyes locked with Homelander's. "Kill Vice President Madeline within the next three days."

He made a dismissive gesture. "How you accomplish this is entirely up to you."

Kill Madeline?

Homelander stared at Richard in shock. While he wasn't opposed to killing in general, he never expected Richard's first order would be to eliminate Madeline Stillwell, Vought's Vice President.

To the outside world, his relationship with Madeline appeared purely professional. But only he knew the truth—she was far more than just a colleague.

"Why?" Homelander demanded.

"No reason," Richard replied coldly. "I just told you—you do whatever I command you to do."

He stepped closer to Homelander. "If you can't follow through, or if you refuse my orders, I see no reason to let you live." Richard's voice hardened. "As a subordinate, obedience matters more than strength."

Personally, Richard had no significant grievance against Madeline. Yet he had decided she couldn't be allowed to live.

His reasoning was straightforward: First, Madeline's continued existence would interfere with his future plans. Second, this served as a test of Homelander's loyalty—would he truly submit?

In the TV series, Homelander had killed Madeline out of a sense of betrayal. That had been his choice—an act of volition. Now, Richard was forcing him to kill her. These were two fundamentally different scenarios.

After hearing Richard's ultimatum, Homelander fell silent, his internal conflict evident. After several seconds of hesitation, he nodded his agreement.

"I'll await your good news," Richard said. "Oh, and make it clean."

Without another word, Richard activated his teleportation ability and vanished, leaving Homelander alone with his dilemma.

The Seven Tower.

99th floor conference room.

After returning to the conference room, Richard approached the head of the conference table and settled into the chair reserved for the captain of The Seven. After sitting briefly in what had been Homelander's seat and contemplating his next moves, he stood and left the meeting room, heading toward his assigned quarters.

Every official member of The Seven received accommodations within the tower that rivaled presidential suites in five-star hotels. Though he'd been a member for less than an hour, Vought had already prepared a room for him.

96th floor.

Like Starlight, his quarters were located on the 96th floor of The Seven Tower. Upon entering the room, he conducted a thorough inspection. After confirming there were no hidden cameras or listening devices, he settled onto the living room sofa.

Nightfall.

After dinner at The Seven's exclusive restaurant, Richard teleported out of the tower. He had officially joined The Seven and begun to establish his reputation. While he remained far from being the world's most famous superhero, barring unforeseen complications, it was only a matter of time before he supplanted Homelander as the premier hero.

Upon leaving The Seven Tower, he bypassed the nightclubs frequented by superhumans and instead transported himself to the Bronx—New York's most dangerous borough.

Among New York City's five boroughs, the Bronx contained the most parkland but also suffered from the highest crime rate—among the highest in the entire United States. The reason was straightforward: the Bronx was primarily populated by Black and Latino communities.

After teleporting to the Bronx, Richard began his night's heroic activities.

Typically, The Seven's heroic endeavors were orchestrated following extensive analysis by various Vought departments—marketing, public relations, crime analysis—and only after dedicated photographers had been positioned to capture the perfect shots. In essence, with the exception of occasional responses to genuine emergencies, the vast majority of The Seven's heroic activities were elaborately staged performances.

Though he had joined The Seven, Richard had no intention of conducting his heroic activities according to Vought's orchestrations. Cooperating with Vought for photoshoots and promotional videos was essential for marketing purposes—it provided the necessary promotional materials. But when it came to actual heroism, Richard planned to operate on his own terms.

His approach was simple and direct: Stop evil by killing it.

He had no interest in complicated methods. Instead, he'd decided to employ the most straightforward and brutal solution—elimination of threats through lethal force.

There is no crime that killing cannot stop!

If killing fails to solve the problem, it simply means you haven't killed enough people!

Unlike Homelander and Queen Maeve—superheroes in name but social media celebrities in practice—Richard cared little for popularity metrics or public approval. The world challenge assigned by the Template System was to become "the most famous superhero" in this universe.

He noted that "superhero" appeared in quotation marks in the challenge description. And focusing on the phrase "most famous," it was clear this challenge didn't require public adoration.

Being the most famous didn't mean being the most beloved.

Shortly after arriving in the Bronx, Richard, hovering in the air, spotted his first targets of the night—a group of looters engaged in "zero-dollar shopping" at a convenience store.

After spotting the gang, he activated his Super Senses to survey the surroundings. Confirming the presence of numerous witnesses and surveillance cameras, he descended slowly, landing directly in front of the store entrance.

His arrival immediately drew attention from bystanders and the criminals alike. The looters hesitated momentarily, but before they could decide whether to abandon their theft, Richard made his move.

Aeroga!

Wind Blade!

Richard raised his right hand and snapped his fingers lightly. Accompanying the snap, seven crescent-shaped transparent wind blades, each nearly eight feet long, shot toward the criminals with frightening velocity.

Tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk-tsk!

Under Richard's precise control, the seven curved wind blades sliced cleanly through the necks of the looters, severing their heads in one synchronized motion.

The onlookers froze in shock. Not only were ordinary citizens terrified, but even the store clerks and manager stood paralyzed with horror.

According to current U.S. law, theft of goods valued under $950 constituted only a misdemeanor, not a felony. Even when convicted, perpetrators typically received sentences of less than six months or fines around $1,000—sometimes both for more serious cases.

Beyond these lenient sentences, various political correctness factors had led American businesses to adopt non-confrontational policies when facing shoplifters. Insurance would cover the losses; there was no need to risk personal safety or legal complications by confronting thieves.

This permissive atmosphere had emboldened the looters. But now Richard had summarily executed them in plain view of dozens of witnesses.

Is he insane?

After witnessing Richard—who had just joined The Seven earlier that day—calmly execute these criminals, many bystanders pulled out their phones and began recording both him and the bodies on the ground.

Richard paid no attention to being filmed. He walked directly to one of the store clerks and said simply, "Call the police."

What?

The young clerk stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Call the police and report a robbery," Richard repeated calmly.

Though uncertain of Richard's intentions, the clerk shakily pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

Once he saw the clerk making the call, Richard calmly exited the store and headed toward his next destination.

In a neighborhood with the Bronx's crime rate, he located another crime scene in less than a minute—this time a home invasion in progress. Though the nature of the crime differed, his method remained consistent. The only variation was his choice of ability; instead of Aeroga's wind blades, he employed Blizzaga's freezing power.

After transforming the burglar into an ice sculpture, the homeowner needed no prompting to call authorities.

For the next hour, Richard appeared throughout the Bronx as if teleportation required no effort whatsoever.

Initially, he physically visited each crime scene. But after just thirty minutes, he decided this approach was inefficient. After incinerating a group of thieves with hellfire, he modified his strategy.

Instead of traveling to each location, he positioned himself on the roof of a Bronx high-rise. From this vantage point, he used telepathy to identify criminals in the act, then employed matter manipulation to reduce them to nothing but their severed heads.

He chose not to completely disintegrate these criminals—not because complete decomposition would consume more energy, but to establish a signature. The criminal reduced to nothing but a head would become his calling card.

The Bronx truly lived up to its reputation as one of America's highest-crime areas. In under an hour, more than a hundred criminals died by Richard's hand. And these weren't even all the crimes occurring that night.

After discovering the crime rate in the Bronx exceeded even his expectations, Richard set himself a target: three hundred criminals. Then he would stop.

To most, this would seem an insane objective. But from Richard's perspective, it was almost restrained. The number of criminals his telepathy detected far exceeded three hundred. If he hadn't wanted to save some criminals for future nights, the death toll tonight would have surpassed a thousand.

Time passed steadily. Half an hour later, having eliminated exactly three hundred criminals, Richard ceased using his telepathy and matter manipulation, smiling with satisfaction. Although killing wasn't generally considered a healthy habit, eliminating criminals delivered a distinct sense of justice.

Having completed his self-assigned quota for the night, Richard teleported back to The Seven Tower. He told no one about his night's activities, but his brutal heroism had already ignited an online firestorm.

From the moment he executed the first group of looters, videos of his killings began circulating wildly across the internet. Vought's digital department quickly discovered the footage and implemented various measures to remove it. But despite their efforts, the videos spread at an astonishing rate. For every video deleted, three more appeared.

The Seven Tower.

56th Floor.

Digital Department.

Rather than teleporting directly to his suite on the 96th floor, Richard materialized in the Digital Department's office. He hadn't come to demand they intensify their efforts to scrub the videos—quite the opposite.

"Everyone go home and get some sleep," he announced to the overwhelmed staff members working overtime. "I don't want any comments or videos deleted."

What?

Hearing his instructions, the digital team exchanged confused glances. They had assumed Richard would demand they accelerate efforts to contain the PR disaster. Instead, he was telling them to abandon their damage control completely.

What is he planning?

Is this some new marketing strategy from the promotional department?

Questions multiplied in the minds of the bewildered employees as they stared at their newest teammate.

...

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