Chapter 94: Capable of Breaking Through a Viltrum's Defenses!
"This is amazing!"
Queen Maeve was as excited as a child. "This feels way better than flying on a plane!"
She did a somersault in the air, spun a few more times, and finally landed in front of Mark.
"Is it the same as Homelander's flight?"
she asked.
"The principle is the same."
Mark nodded. "Anti-gravity Flight.
Your physical essence has improved, so you naturally awakened this ability."
Maeve clenched her fists.
Strength.
Ten times the strength.
Twenty times the speed.
Flight.
She had never been this powerful before.
"There's more."
Mark's voice pulled her back from her excitement.
"More?"
Maeve was stunned.
Strength, speed, endurance, flight—wasn't this enough?
Mark gave a mysterious smile.
"Feel carefully. Is there another new power within your body?"
In truth, Mark understood Maeve's superpowers better than she did right now.
An entire scientific team had studied in detail what kind of qualitative change would occur if Maeve's superpowers were increased tenfold.
They had run all sorts of models.
And that final report had been presented to Mark as early as yesterday.
Maeve closed her eyes and focused intently on her perception.
Then she opened her eyes.
A silvery light began to condense in her palm.
The light was faint at first, like moonlight spilling over a lake.
But soon, it grew brighter and more solid until finally—
A longsword appeared in her hand!
The longsword was entirely silver, with a slender blade so sharp it could reflect a person's image.
It wasn't made of metal, but condensed from pure energy!
The sunlight hit it, refracting into a rainbow halo.
Maeve stood frozen in place.
"This is..."
"Your newly awakened ability."
Mark said, "You can condense your own power into a solid silver weapon."
He took a step closer, carefully observing the sword.
"Try it out. Can you change it into something else?"
Maeve took a deep breath.
Holding the sword, she thought: 'Turn into a spear.'
The silver light flowed!
The sword elongated and transformed within the light, finally becoming a slender silver spear!
The shaft was straight, the tip was sharp, and silver light-flames flickered at the base of the spearhead!
"Wow!"
Maeve couldn't help but cry out in surprise.
She thought again: 'Turn into a battle axe.'
The silver light changed again!
The spear contracted and widened, finally becoming a massive two-handed battle axe!
The axe head was broad, the blade sharp, and it felt heavy and full of power in her hands!
"A saber!"
The silver light condensed, turning into a Tang saber.
"A dagger!"
The silver light shrank, becoming a sharp short dagger.
"A bow and arrow!"
The silver light stretched out, becoming a longbow with a silver arrow notched on the string!
Maeve looked at the bow in her hand, then at Mark.
Mark nodded to her.
She drew the bowstring, aiming at a discarded iron barrel on the edge of the roof.
She let go!
Whiz!
The silver arrow turned into a streak of light, instantly striking the iron barrel!
Boom!
The iron barrel was blown directly into fragments!
Maeve's eyes widened.
"This power—"
"Not bad."
Mark walked over, took the bow from her hand, and examined it closely. "Weapons condensed from energy are inherently sharper and tougher than ordinary metal.
Coupled with your current strength—"
He handed the bow back to Maeve.
"Try defense."
Maeve nodded.
With a thought—
Silver light surged from within her, instantly enveloping her entire body!
A suit of silver armor appeared on her!
The armor had smooth lines, fitting her form perfectly, complete with pauldrons, a breastplate, and tassets.
A faint luster flowed over the silver surface, looking both magnificent and sturdy.
Maeve looked down at herself and couldn't help but spin around.
"So cool!"
she said excitedly.
"Test the defensive power."
Mark said, "Punch yourself with your maximum strength."
Maeve was taken aback for a moment.
Punch herself?
Then again, she couldn't exactly let Mark hit her.
Her body would probably explode into a mist of blood if he did.
She clenched her fist, used all her strength, and slammed a punch into her own breastplate!
Thud!
A dull sound of impact!
A ripple spread across the silver armor, and then—
It remained perfectly intact!
Maeve herself was shaken back two steps, and she shook her numbed hand.
"It's this hard?!"
"Not bad."
Mark walked over and tapped his finger on the armor, producing a crisp metallic sound. "The hardness is excellent.
An ordinary Superhuman's attack would definitely not be able to break this defense."
He paused.
"Now, let me test its true power."
He took a step back and said to Maeve:
"Use your sword and strike me."
Maeve was stunned for a moment.
"Strike you?"
"Yes."
Mark nodded. "Use your full strength."
Maeve hesitated for a second.
Then she took a deep breath, and the silver light condensed in her hand, turning back into that silver longsword.
She gripped the hilt tightly and looked at Mark.
Mark gave her a nod.
Maeve no longer hesitated!
She exerted her power suddenly, and the silver sword turned into a streak of light, hacking fiercely at Mark's shoulder!
Clang—!!!
A deafening sound of metal clashing!
Sparks flew in all directions!
The silver blade struck Mark's shoulder, leaving behind a faint white Mark.
But that white Mark existed for only a tenth of a second before instantly vanishing!
Mark looked down at his shoulder, then at the sword in Maeve's hand.
He nodded in satisfaction.
"Not bad.
Really not bad."
Maeve, however, was dumbfounded.
She had used her full strength.
That strike, combined with her twenty-fold increased strength after evolving, should have been enough to cleave a skyscraper in half!
And the result?
It only left a white Mark on Mark's shoulder?
And it vanished instantly?
"You call that 'not bad'?"
She was somewhat speechless.
"It's really not bad."
Mark explained seriously, "The hardness of this sword has already exceeded my expectations."
He took the sword and examined it carefully.
"You see, the greatest advantage of an energy-condensed weapon is its extreme sharpness.
It can cut through almost any substance—steel, rock, alloys; they are all like tofu before this sword."
He gently pressed the tip of the sword against his palm; the tip vibrated slightly, but could not pierce through.
"But I can block it because of two reasons."
He held up one finger.
"First, my constitution has been enhanced.
With double my original strength plus the support of my Bio-field, my body's durability has increased by more than just one level."
He held up a second finger.
"Second, I have a Bio-field protecting me.
This field can absorb and disperse the vast majority of attacks.
When your sword hit me, at least eighty percent of the force was dissipated by the field."
He handed the sword back to Maeve.
"Without these two things, this strike would have definitely injured me."
Maeve's eyes lit up.
"Really?"
"Really."
Mark nodded. "The sharpness of this sword, combined with your current strength—"
He thought for a moment.
"It should be enough to barely threaten a Viltrum."
"A Viltrum?"
"One of my own kind."
Mark explained, "An average Viltrum warrior has physical defenses far stronger than Earth's Superhumans, but they definitely couldn't withstand a full-strength strike from you."
He paused.
"Of course, it's only a 'bare threat'.
In a head-on fight, a Viltrum could send you flying with one punch.
But if it's during a group fight and you fire a surprise arrow—"
He smiled.
"It should be enough to barely break through their surface defense."
Maeve gripped her sword tightly, her eyes flashing with excitement.
"Then I can fight alongside you?"
Mark thought about it.
Then he shook his head.
"No need."
He reached out and gently caressed Maeve's cheek.
"For the world to be invincible, having me is enough."
His voice was very light, but every word seemed carved into the air.
"You only need to—"
He leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Maeve's forehead.
"Stand by my side."
The wind blew across the roof, catching their clothes and hair.
The sunlight spilled over them, plating the scene in a golden border.
Chapter 95: The Soldier
The early morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, coating the floor in a soft layer of gold.
Maeve opened her eyes.
She turned her head to look at the man still sleeping soundly beside her.
Mark's sleeping face was peaceful, lacking his usual majesty and the sharpness he displayed in battle; he looked just like an ordinary, exhausted young man.
His black hair was scattered across the pillow, and his eyelashes quivered slightly in the sunlight.
Maeve couldn't help but reach out and gently stroke his cheek.
This man was hers.
The thought made her break into a smile.
The tenderness of last night was still vivid in her mind.
The feeling of being completely possessed, of being utterly conquered, made her cheeks flush even now just thinking about it.
She was about to touch him again when her hand was suddenly caught.
Mark opened his eyes, those black pupils shimmering with a faint golden hue in the sunlight.
"Watching me sleep?"
His voice carried the raspiness of someone who had just woken up, yet it was exceptionally sexy.
Maeve blushed and tried to pull her hand back, but he held it even tighter.
"How can looking at my own man be called 'watching'?"
Mark laughed.
He sat up and pulled Maeve into his arms.
"When we go back to my world, I'll take you to meet my mom."
His voice was soft but very serious.
"She'll definitely like you.
As for my dad—"
He paused, his lips curling into a meaningful arc.
"He'll be quite'surprised'."
Maeve leaned against his chest, listening to his powerful heartbeat.
"What is your world like?"
"Hmm..." Mark thought for a moment, "I have a superherofor a dad, an ordinary human for a mom, and a group of weird teammates.
Oh right, and an alien empire that might invade Earth at any moment."
Maeve looked up at him.
"It sounds even more chaotic than this world."
"Pretty much," Mark smiled, "but it's my home."
He lowered his head and planted a kiss on Maeve's forehead.
"And it's your home now, too."
The two of them stayed like that quietly for a while.
The sun gradually rose higher, casting light on the foot of the bed, the headboard, and onto them.
Then—
*Ding-dong.*
Mark's phone rang.
He frowned and picked it up to take a look.
It was a news notification.
He originally intended to dismiss it immediately, but the moment he saw the headline, his hand stopped.
"Breaking! An abandoned building in the city center suspected to be hit by a nuclear explosion!"
Mark tapped on the news report.
In the footage, a building that had once stood in the city center had now completely vanished.
In its place remained only a massive crater, with surrounding buildings tilted and damaged by the Shockwave.
The good news was that the building had long been abandoned and was uninhabited.
The bad news was—
This was a demonstration.
This was a provocation.
This was a declaration of war.
"Soldier Boy's superpower?"
Mark's brow furrowed.
He hadn't expected Butcher to be so capable.
He was just about to leave, yet they managed to find one more thing for him to deal with.
The timing was incredibly precise, occurring just the day before his planned departure.
Mark was very familiar with Soldier Boy's abilities.
A super-powered body, strength and speed comparable to Homelander, but without flight.
However, his explosive power was even greater than Homelander's—the key lay in that nuclear reactor in his chest.
He could, at will and after charging up, release a short-range nuclear blast!
The power of that nuclear explosion was something even Homelander's physical body couldn't withstand.
But for Mark—
It was child's play.
He had just overcome his only weakness, the sun, and had even taken a bath in the solar corona.
At this moment, he stood at the pinnacle of Earth!
He had become the Ultimate lifeform!
It was like Kars from JoJo putting on the Stone Mask embedded with the Red Stone of Aja!
It was like Kibutsuji Muzan from Demon Slayer consuming the Blue Spider Lily!
He had become a literal game-breaker!
His strength was in a league of its own!
"Very well."
Mark stood up, the golden sunlight casting a halo around him.
"It's time to eliminate the last restless Superhumans in this world."
Maeve also sat up.
"I'm coming with you."
Mark turned back to look at her.
Then he smiled.
"Okay."
He reached out his hand, and Maeve took it as he pulled her up.
The two of them stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city that had just awakened from its slumber.
"Butcher will leave me a message,"
Mark said.
Just as he spoke, another news alert popped up.
Another building had been destroyed.
But this building wasn't hit by a nuclear blast; it was sliced cleanly—cut in two from the middle, the upper half sliding off and crashing to the ground, kicking up clouds of dust.
Heat Vision.
Homelander's ability.
Mark zoomed in on the footage, looking at the direction the building had fallen.
The two destroyed buildings formed a straight line.
And that line extended all the way—
Pointing toward a desolate, uninhabited area.
It was an abandoned old urban district, filled with many buildings covered in moss and in a state of disrepair.
"They even specially prepared the final battlefield?"
Mark laughed.
There was no anger or tension in that smile, only an indescribable sense of anticipation.
"I wonder what kind of trump cards you've prepared, Butcher!"
He turned around and looked at Maeve.
"Wait for me to come back."
Maeve nodded.
"Be careful."
Mark smiled.
"Be careful?"
His feet lifted slightly off the ground, and a Bio-fieldformed a faint golden glow around him.
"They're the ones who should be careful."
In the next second—
He soared into the sky!
The sky was azure and cloudless.
Mark flew slowly.
It wasn't that he couldn't go fast, but that he was deliberately slowing down.
He knew that after using a nuclear blast, Soldier Boyneeded some time to recover his strength.
He wanted to give them the chance to face him in their most complete state!
You can chase to your heart's content.
You can display your conspiracies and schemes to your heart's content.
But I—
Will use the most magnificent and upright power to crush all your illusions!
Finally, the abandoned old district appeared in his field of vision.
Dilapidated buildings, moss-covered walls, and empty streets.
This had once been a bustling town, but was later abandoned for some reason, leaving only these ruins to tell of its former glory.
Mark descended slowly.
His feet landed on the ground with a slight sound.
The ground was covered in moss, making it somewhat slippery.
He scanned his surroundings.
No one was there.
But Mark knew they were present.
"A bit too slippery..."
He muttered softly.
In the next second—
The solar particles within his body began to activate at an alarming speed!
The Bio-field expanded instantly, enveloping everything within a hundred-meter radius!
solar particles overflowed from the surface of his body, forming a scorching energy wave that blasted outward!
He controlled the temperature perfectly—
Just enough to pulverize all the surrounding buildings!
Just enough to avoid harming the innocent!
Just enough to turn this battlefield into a scorched, white flatland!
"Boom—!!!"
Golden light exploded!
Those old buildings that had existed for decades were instantly evaporated under this terrifyingly high temperature!
They didn't collapse or break; they simply vanished!
Turning into wisps of green smoke, they dissipated into the air!
The moss was burned to ash.
The ground was baked charred black.
The air was heated until it distorted.
A single strike cleared the field!
Looking at the gray-white expanse around him, Marknodded with satisfaction.
Chapter 96: Stop Wasting Your Breath on Him!
"This is the perfect setting for a finale."
He stood there with his hands behind his back.
The golden sunlight shone from behind him, tracing a perfect silhouette around his body.
"It seems Butcher and that so-called'son of mine' didn't lie to me."
A voice came from within the ruins.
Mark turned around.
A figure was strolling toward him, shield in hand.
It was a middle-aged man with a burly build and knotted muscles.
He had a thick, neatly groomed beard on his face.
His eyes, sharp as an eagle's, were locked onto Mark.
Soldier Boy.
The first sex symbol in American film and television history.
As he walked, he held his shield up in front of his chest.
The shield was diamond-shaped with a sharp point at the bottom, and it was braced against his fist, looking incredibly impactful.
"You truly are an astonishingly powerful individual!"
His voice was sonorous, carrying a heroic aura.
"If this were World War II, I definitely wouldn't have been your match."
He stopped ten meters in front of Mark.
"But an opponent like you truly deserves respect!"
Mark looked at him without saying a word.
Soldier Boy continued:
"But after those decades of torture, the impact of my new ability is quite decent.
I believe no Superhuman in the world can withstand it!"
"Stop wasting your breath on him, Father!"
A shrill voice came from overhead.
Mark looked up.
Homelander was floating in mid-air, looking down at him coldly.
In those blue eyes, complex emotions were burning—fear, anger, hatred, and an indefinable hint of... anticipation?
"It's because of this that I don't think you're like my son!"
Soldier Boy didn't turn his head, but his voice carried dissatisfaction.
"The son of Soldier Boy wouldn't be so timid!"
He paused, his gaze falling back on Mark.
"This guy is a worthy opponent.
A heroic warrior with morals and rules.
He delayed his flight over to ensure my physical strength was fully recovered."
He nodded, a hint of respect in his tone.
"For that alone, he deserves for me to explain the stakes before we fight!"
Homelander fell silent.
He was still somewhat dazed by the identity of being a'son'.
But at this moment, he couldn't worry about that.
He only knew that the man before him was their only hope.
"Come, warrior!"
Soldier Boy beckoned to Mark, his face filled with a fanatical fighting spirit.
"I can't wait any longer!"
Mark smiled.
That smile was as bright as sunlight.
This guy had a lot of nerve.
But he wasn't going to pull any arrogant stunts.
The opponent had asked for a fight—
How could he not oblige?
Bang!!!
The speed of that punch was so fast it exceeded the limits of human vision!
So fast it left only a faint afterimage in the air!
So fast that only Superhumans like Soldier Boy and Homelander could barely see the movement of that punch!
And in this moment—
Soldier Boy finally understood.
What it meant to be—
Powerful beyond the era!
He raised his shield to block.
That shield was something he'd specifically had Vought Corporation forge using the hardest alloy.
It could withstand a tank's main cannon and block missile bombardments.
But now—
Crack!
The shield shattered instantly!
It didn't split or deform; it literally disintegrated into countless fragments!
Those fragments flew in all directions like a blooming metallic flower!
And that terrifying power still transferred onto Soldier Boy's body!
His entire being was sent flying backward!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He smashed through one wall, then another, and then another!
Finally, he crashed into a pile of rubble, kicking up a cloud of dust that filled the air!
Mark still stood where he was.
He had already pulled his hand back and was flexing his wrist with a relaxed, disdainful posture.
"What kind of thing is this guy?!"
Soldier Boy scrambled up from the ruins, his face full of disbelief.
"Is this fucking human?!"
His entire worldview was shattered at this moment.
He felt it—the being before him wasn't some so-called human at all.
It was a monster.
No, scarier than a monster.
It was a god.
Mark stood there, his body as immovable as a mountain.
But that terrifying pressure rushed toward him like a flood or a savage beast!
Soldier Boy felt like a mere mortal caught in the direct path of a landslide!
A towering torrent was already upon him!
A storm of blood and gore pierced his vision!
There was nothing he could do!
It was impossible to resist!
How could human strength compare to such divine power?!
"But this is exactly it—"
Soldier Boy suddenly began to laugh.
There was no fear in that laugh, no retreat, only a near-manic excitement!
He slammed his foot back into the ground, arresting that terrifying momentum!
Bang!
A large crater was stomped into the ground by him!
Then, he ripped the clothes off his chest, revealing his solid pectoral muscles!
At the center of his chest, a red light was converging!
A nuclear reactor was charging up!
Soldier Boy was laughing uproariously!
"Only a battle like this is worthy of being a man's finale!"
His laughter echoed through the ruins, making the broken stones tremble!
"To fight such divine power while fulfilling my oath!"
"Even the Twelve Knights of the Round Table might not experience such a glorious battle!"
"Butcher—"
He roared toward the sky!
"I thank you!"
"I truly came to the right battlefield!!!"
"Is this guy really my biological father?"
Homelander watched the laughing figure, a thought flashing through his mind.
But in the next second, he suppressed that thought.
Because Mark's back was turned toward him.
Mark hadn't turned around!
He hadn't noticed him at all!
Homelander's heart began to pound wildly!
He took a deep breath, and then—
Dived!
His speed was pushed to the limit, his fist clenched tight, all his strength converging into this one punch!
He was once the god of this world.
He had once made countless people kneel.
He had once thought he was invincible.
But that man had destroyed everything he had.
Now, he was going to take it back with his own hands!
The wind howled from his punch!
That fist went straight for the back of Mark's head!
He hasn't noticed me!
He really hasn't noticed me!
Hahahahahahaha!
I can hit him!
Homelander's heart was already excited to the extreme!
He channeled all his superpowers into this one punch!
This punch was his peak!
Boom!!!
A sonic boom exploded!
Flesh and blood splattered!
This punch landed solidly!
This punch had used up everything Homelander had!
But—
Homelander froze.
He lifted his right arm.
His fist, forearm, and elbow had all twisted into the shape of a pretzel!
It was total damage caused by the counter-shock of extreme force!
It wasn't a simple fracture, but a comminuted crushing!
Blood splattered all over Homelander's face, even staining his originally blue eyes red!
Chapter 97: I Can Cure It
"Aaaaaaaagh—!"
He clutched his right arm, collapsing weakly to the ground and wailing in agony!
In that voice, there was pain, despair, and an indescribable sense of—relief?
Mark finally turned his head.
He looked down at the figure curled into a ball on the ground, his lips curling into a playful arc.
"You're really quite careless, aren't you?"
He raised his foot and stepped on Homelander's head.
With a slight application of force, that head, which countless people once admired, was pressed into the dirt.
Never mind Homelander.
Even if Nolan were to punch him now, Mark wouldn't even have his defense broken.
Because his current constitution was already almost identical to Thragg's.
And the Nolan who hadn't yet experienced being beaten twice by Thragg didn't even have the qualifications to break his defense.
At most—
He might give Mark a slight nosebleed.
"That's some serious power!"
A cheer rang out from behind!
Mark turned around.
In the next second—
Soldier Boy's chest was aimed right at him!
Point-blank range!
Right in his face!
Nuclear blast!!!
"BOOM—!!!"
Blinding white light exploded!
A terrifying Shockwave swept through everything!
The light was so blinding, so scorching, it was enough to instantly blind anyone who looked directly at it!
The shockwave was so violent, so fierce, it was enough to melt steel and vaporize rock!
Soldier Boy's nuclear blast, at point-blank range, exerted its power to the absolute limit!
Bang!
Mark was sent flying backward!
He tumbled several times in the air before finally landing on the ground and sliding for over ten meters before coming to a stop.
The smoke and dust slowly cleared.
Mark stood up from the ground.
He touched his nose.
Then he looked down at his thumb—
At that smear of crimson blood.
He smiled.
In that smile, there was surprise, appreciation, and an indescribable hint of excitement.
"If this is all you've got—"
He looked up at the two panting figures.
"Then the two of you deserve to die!"
Soldier Boy knelt on one knee, gasping for air.
One nuclear blast had nearly exhausted his stamina.
But in his eyes, the will to fight still burned.
Homelander lay slumped not far away, his right arm completely ruined and his face covered in blood and grime.
But in his eyes, a glimmer of light also ignited at this moment.
Because—
Mark was bleeding!
That invincible man was bleeding!
"However—"
Mark's voice drifted over.
He stood there with his hands behind his back.
The sun shone from behind him, plating his body in a golden halo.
"I'm sure Butcher has prepared a surprise for me."
His lips curled into a meaningful arc.
"I'm looking forward to it..."
The wind blew through the ruins, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Homelander suddenly jerked his head up, a look of frantic obsession erupting on his face, which was twisted from intense pain.
His crimson gaze was fixed firmly on Mark as he roared, "Our goal isn't just to defeat you!"
"Old man!!!"
This roar carried a desperation that showed he was burning his bridges.
Homelander shouted with all his might, sending the final signal to Soldier Boy beside him.
Soldier Boy understood instantly.
His burly frame lunged forward like an arrow from a bow.
Even though the nuclear reactor in his chest was still cooling down and couldn't release another world-destroying nuclear blast yet,
His top-tier physical strength, which rivaled Homelander's, was still intact.
Every step he took on the scorched ground sent gravel flying, his momentum terrifying.
The two of them, one on the left and one on the right, formed a perfect pincer movement, launching their most vicious coordination without the slightest hesitation.
Homelander no longer held back, his eyes instantly erupting with a piercing red light.
Two beams of scalding, violent Heat Vision blasted straight toward Mark's face, moving so fast they were just a red afterimage.
The temperature was high enough to melt through steel in an instant.
This was his trump card, every ounce of energy squeezed to the limit.
His mission was clear!
Use the Heat Vision to pin down Mark's attention and create an opening for Soldier Boy to engage in close-quarters combat.
Soldier Boy relied on his peerless physical strength.
He charged headlong toward Mark's side, his fists clenched tight.
His muscles were as tense as cast iron, responsible for the frontal distraction and close-quarters grappling!
The two had a clear division of labor, coordinating seamlessly.
If this were the past, before Mark had broken through his limits and overcome his weakness to the sun,
Facing the joint strangulation of these two top-tier Superhumans,
Even if he could win easily, he would inevitably feel a bit annoyed and need to spend some effort maneuvering.
But the current Mark was already a far cry from what he used to be.
He stood his ground, his posture as upright as a pine tree.
He allowed that Heat Vision, capable of melting gold and iron, to burn against his face.
Not even a single red Mark appeared on his skin.
Instead, he raised an eyebrow with a relaxed expression, his tone full of mockery and banter.
He leisurely looked at the red-faced Homelander.
"Is this thing of yours... intermittent?"
"Are your kidneys not working well?"
The casual sentence was like a needle stabbing ruthlessly into Homelander's most sensitive pride.
Homelander's face turned pale green instantly, and he trembled with rage. His face, which had been pale from pain, flushed bright red as he immediately roared in anger:
"Your kidneys are the ones that don't work!"
Mark suddenly withdrew his playful smile and, with a serious face and an incredibly earnest tone, spoke: "I can cure it!"
"Huh?"
Those three short words caused the frantic Homelander to freeze, his entire being locking up on the spot.
Any man, upon hearing such words, would not react with anger as their first response.
Instead, they would subconsciously daze out.
The meaning and implications behind those words would spin rapidly through their mind.
Even his attacking movements unconsciously paused for half a second.
That brief moment of vulnerability was enough to decide life and death.
Without warning, Mark's eyes glowed with an intense crimson.
It was deeper, more violent, and more destructive than Homelander's Heat Vision.
Golden energy surged in the depths of his eyes, and a pressure that crushed everything suddenly erupted.
Soldier Boy, being quick-witted, instantly sensed the fatal danger.
He immediately cursed at the dazed Homelander, his voice full of exasperation: "Is that the only thing left in your damn head!?"
"Can't you see he has Heat Vision too?!"
Before the roar could fade, Soldier Boy had already lunged forward recklessly.
At this moment, he truly looked a bit like a father.
Ignoring his own safety, he slammed into Homelander, pinning him to the ground and shielding him with his own body.
In the next second, Mark's Heat Vision blasted out!
Chapter 98: The Seven-Day Love-Stronger-Than-Gold Lock
Without the slightest reservation, without a hint of mercy.
Pure, ultimate destructive energy pierced through the air.
Only a sharp "hissing" sound was heard.
One of Soldier Boy's arms was directly pierced through.
Leaving behind a hideous, terrifying, and bloody hole.
Bone and muscle were instantly melted through by the high temperature, and blood gushed out.
"Ah..."
A low groan of pain escaped from Soldier Boy's throat.
He looked down at the transparent bloody hole in his arm, his pupils shrinking suddenly, his face written with unbelievable shock.
"This power!?"
Homelander was protected beneath him.
Watching the Heat Vision that easily pierced Soldier Boy's powerful physical body, his heart contracted violently.
A fear that went deep into his marrow instantly swept through his entire body.
Mark walked slowly toward the two, his pace unhurried, his tone terrifyingly calm:
"I also admire your character, Soldier Boy, so I used my full strength."
"This kind of penetration is also relatively strong; your arm should still be able to move now, right?"
Soldier Boy gritted his teeth hard.
He ignored the excruciating pain in his arm and instead grinned, a smile filled with a madness that defied death:
"Ah, I'm perfectly healthy right now!"
Before his voice had even faded, he lunged forward again.
He rushed at Mark recklessly, arms wide open, and locked himself tightly onto Mark's body.
Seven-Day Love-Stronger-Than-Gold Lock!!!
An incredibly firm roar seemed to echo from the void!
Soldier Boy didn't know why he was doing this; he just felt that he should!
His hands wrapped around Mark's neck like iron pincers.
His two feet were locked firmly around Mark's waist.
His whole body's muscles tightened instantly, every inch of bone and sinew exerting force to lock down.
His entire person was like an inescapable steel chain, doing his utmost to restrict all of Mark's movements.
"This is a rear-naked choke technique!"
"Even if my strength is less than yours, I can use this to hold you back for a while!"
Soldier Boy roared loudly.
He used all his strength to tighten his hold, attempting to use technique to make up for the absolute gap in power.
Mark, however, just shook his head slightly with a helpless look, his tone full of condescending pity:
"You really don't understand anything at all, Soldier Boy."
As he spoke, he slowly raised his hand and placed it gently on Soldier Boy's forearm, which was locked tightly around him.
"So-called techniques..."
"In the face of ultimate strength, they are completely useless!"
He raised his hand.
The movement was very slow, slow enough for Soldier Boy to clearly see every detail.
Mark's fingers gripped his forearm.
Those fingers were long and powerful, with a faint golden light flowing beneath the skin.
"You truly have no concept of my power."
Mark's voice was very calm, like he was chatting about everyday things.
"I don't blame you for your shallow experience—"
He paused, a flash of golden light crossing his black eyes.
That golden light flashed and vanished, but it made Soldier Boy's heart contract sharply.
"Human beings, as a species, have limits!"
The next second—
He exerted force with his fingers.
"Crack!"
The sound was crisp and chilling, like snapping a dry branch, or stepping on a fallen autumn leaf.
Soldier Boy's forearm shattered inch by inch in Mark's hand!
It wasn't a fracture, it wasn't a crack—
It was pulverized!
It was a complete, total, and irreversible pulverization!
Bone fragments pierced the skin, flying out along with splatters of flesh!
Those bone shards, mixed with muscle fibers and blood, drew scarlet arcs in the sunlight!
"Ah—!!!"
Soldier Boy let out a suppressed groan.
The sound was not a scream, but a beast-like roar squeezed from between his teeth.
But he did not let go.
Using that shattered arm, of which only half remained and whose bone splinters were exposed, he still tightly gripped Mark's neck!
Blood gushed out like a fire hydrant had been opened, splashing all over Mark!
The blood was warm and viscous, with a strong metallic smell of rust, pouring down over his head and face!
But at the moment it was about to touch Mark's face—
It was blocked by a faint layer of golden light.
The Bio-field.
The blood slid down along it, forming a scarlet curtain around Mark's body before dripping onto the ground.
Not a single drop touched his face.
That face, originating from Huaxia bloodlines, remained awe-inspiringly domineering.
Sharp contours, tightly pressed lips, and those black eyes—
At this moment, golden light seemed to be shining within those eyes.
"Bang!"
Mark waved his hand casually.
The movement was as casual as shooing away a fly.
But Soldier Boy was sent flying directly, as if he had been hit by a locomotive!
He tumbled several times in the air, tracing a parabola before smashing heavily into a pile of ruins.
"Boom!"
Dust rose everywhere, and broken bricks flew.
Mark didn't look at him.
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding dilapidated walls.
The old buildings covered in moss, the rust-stained steel frames, the concrete walls eroded by time.
"Where is Butcher?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly spread throughout the ruins.
There was no anger in that voice, no anxiety, only a calm majesty.
"Tell him to come see me!"
His feet left the ground as he slowly rose.
His red cape snapped in the wind, and the golden Bio-fieldflowed around him like a deity descending to the mortal realm.
He had had enough of playing with these two fragile fools.
It held no meaning for him whatsoever!
"I'm right here!"
A voice suddenly boomed!
The voice was high-pitched and resolute, like a blade cutting through the sky, like a clap of thunder exploding over the ruins.
Mark turned his head.
In the distance, on the top floor of a ruined building, a figure was standing at the edge.
The building was already tilted at forty-five degrees and could collapse at any time.
But that figure stood straight, as if the ground beneath his feet was a solid reviewing stand.
A black trench coat snapped in the wind, its hem fluttering like a flag.
The coat was very old, with frayed edges, but wearing it, he possessed an indescribable presence.
His resolute face appeared dim and somber in the sunlight, cut into light and shadow by the darkness.
But those eyes—
Those eyes were sharp as a hawk's, locked straight onto Mark.
Without the slightest evasion.
Without the slightest fear.
Butcher.
At this moment, his gaze was unimaginably firm.
In those eyes, only Mark remained.
Mark smiled.
He floated in mid-air, looking down at the mortal from above.
There was a hint of playfulness in that smile, a hint of curiosity, and a hint of something hard to define—appreciation?
"I finally meet you, Billy Butcher."
His voice carried a hint of playfulness, like a cat looking at a mouse under its paw.
"The so-called Superhuman killer seems a bit fragile."
He sized up Butcher, his gaze sweeping from the top of his head to his toes.
"You haven't taken Compound V?"
He shook his head, the curve of his lips deepening.
"In that case, with just that body, how do you expect to win against me?"
He paused, his lips curling into a teasing arc.
That teasing held a condescending sense of superiority, a pity for mortals.
"You're not exactly Bruce Wayne."
This was a reference to Batman.
That madman who also had no superpowers yet dared to challenge gods.
But Bruce Wayne has money-power.
Do you?
Chapter 99: Malice
Butcher smiled as well.
In that smile, there was no fear, no retreat, only an indescribable—relief?
"Hahaha, you're right."
Smiling, he pulled a vial of blue liquid from his pocket.
The liquid shimmered with a faint blue light under the sun, like a liquid gemstone, like a solidified sky.
Compound V.
"I'm just an ordinary person, a mere mortal."
He looked at the vial in his hand, his gaze complex.
Many things flashed through those eyes: his wife, every Superhuman he had hunted over the years, and those fallen comrades-in-arms.
Finally, everything returned to a state of calm.
"How can a mortal dare to challenge a god single-handedly?"
He looked up, meeting Mark's gaze.
In those eyes, only Mark remained now.
"To kill you—"
"I've been prepared for a long time!"
He twisted open the cap.
The soft 'pop' sounded exceptionally clear in the silent ruins.
Without a shred of hesitation, without a moment's delay.
He poured every drop of that blue liquid into his mouth!
The taste of Compound V was dense, with a hint of metallic bitterness, like drinking liquid steel.
It slid down his esophagus, searing every inch of tissue it touched, pouring directly into his stomach and flowing into his bloodstream—
Remaking a mortal body!
In that instant, Butcher's eyes snapped wide open!
Blue veins bulged on his forehead like twisting snakes!
His body began to tremble violently, every muscle twitching frantically!
It was a mortal's body being forcibly transformed into a Superhuman!
It was a tearing pain, a burning torment!
But he didn't make a sound.
He clenched his teeth so hard they creaked, and his gums began to bleed.
But his eyes remained fixed on Mark.
Staring intently.
The next moment!
A scorching red light erupted from Butcher's eyes!
That red light was so dazzling, so violent, like two pillars of burning fire, like magma surging from the depths of hell!
His body suddenly shot off the ground, flying straight at Mark!
His speed was like a bolt of red lightning, leaving a scorching trail in the air!
"BOOM—!!!"
That punch slammed hard into Mark's face!
The air was blasted apart by the punch, producing a deafening sonic boom!
An Shockwave wave radiated outward from the two of them, kicking up a storm of dust and rubble!
Mark took the punch with his face.
It didn't hurt; it didn't even itch.
But that force—
He was shocked.
"Homelander?"
This power was worthy of the name.
It was completely equal to Homelander's.
Flight, Heat Vision, skin durability—none were lacking.
Mark hovered in mid-air, looking at the man who had been a mere mortal just moments ago.
Truly miraculous.
A strange destiny was beginning to ripple at this moment.
Homelander and Butcher, these two destined enemies and rivals, had actually awakened identical superpowers.
Even the power levels were identical.
It was as if fate were playing a massive joke.
As if an invisible hand in the dark had deliberately arranged all of this.
It seemed that if he hadn't come to this world, these two would have surely fought to the death.
A life-and-death struggle.
Inextricably entangled.
A fight until the bitter end.
But unfortunately—
Before a Viltrumite, all of this was mere child's play.
Like a battle-hardened general watching a toddler simulate a battlefield on a sand table.
Watching them fight to the death with boiling blood, strategizing and deciding victory from a thousand miles away—
The general would only watch silently and then let out a scoff.
The current Mark was exactly like that.
"What an interesting destiny!"
He smiled.
In that smile was a hint of reflection, a hint of mockery, and an indescribable—pity.
Reflection for the drama of fate, mockery for the struggles of this mortal, and pity because it was all ultimately futile.
"Pity. Destiny is something that, from the moment it exists, is meant to be broken!"
He clenched his fist.
The moment he clenched his fist, the surrounding air was compressed until it let out an explosive bang!
"Just like now!"
His fist swung out violently!
The punch was as fast as lightning and as heavy as a collapsing mountain!
The target—Butcher's head!
"BANG!!!"
Flesh and blood exploded!
Butcher's head instantly disintegrated under Mark's fist!
It didn't split or cave in; it completely exploded!
Like a watermelon struck by a sledgehammer.
Red and White splattered in all directions!
Chunks of flesh mixed with brain matter and skull fragments sprayed everywhere like a crimson rainstorm!
But at the very moment the blood mist exploded—
A cloud of green gas rushed straight out!
The gas was thick and substantial, carrying a pungent chemical odor, as if it were alive, lunging at Mark's face!
"!!!"
Mark's pupils shrank!
That mist was actually not restricted by his Bio-field!
It penetrated that layer of golden radiance like a hot knife through butter, surging toward Mark's nose and mouth without hindrance!
Even more terrifyingly, it was actually partially attracted by the Compound V inside Mark's body—
It seeped directly into his body!
The sensation was as if countless cold needles were simultaneously piercing every one of his cells!
The next second—
A sense of weakness spread from within!
The feeling came so suddenly and so violently, as if something were frantically devouring his strength!
Like a dam whose foundation had suddenly been hollowed out!
Mark's eyes widened in shock.
How could he have allowed Butcher to scheme against him?
After obtaining the Bio-field, the current Mark could also use his Super Vision to see through objects!
Just now, he had scanned Butcher's entire body!
From head to toe, from skin to bone, he had seen every corner clearly!
No syringes.
No toxins.
Nothing suspicious at all!
That was why he had felt safe taking Butcher's punch and responding with a devastating blow.
But this guy—
This guy!
Had he actually injected the toxin into his own brain?!
Mark understood instantly.
No wonder he didn't dare come out earlier.
No wonder he had to hide until this very moment.
Because if he had come out early and taken the Compound V—
He would have died from his own toxin first!
This was a suicidal killing move specifically designed to strike Mark through death!
Before taking the Compound V, he had injected the anti-Superhuman toxin into his own head.
Then, during the period before the toxin took effect, he swallowed the Compound V.
He used all his strength to rush to Mark's side.
Regardless of whether Mark ended him with a single punch—
His body would collapse due to the collision between the toxin and the Compound V!
No matter what—
Mark would be contaminated by the toxin!
This was an opportunity bought with a life.
A life-for-a-life killing move.
At this moment, Mark truly felt Butcher's malice.
That malice was as thick as ink, as cold as iron, and as resolute as a blade!
It wasn't hatred.
It wasn't anger.
It was something deeper—the determination of a hunter who will kill his prey at any cost!
"This is our plan!"
A voice came from behind him.
The voice carried a frenzied laughter, the pleasure of revenge, and a long-suppressed release.
Mark turned his head.
Homelander was standing on the ruins, laughing quite miserably.
His right arm was still useless, hanging limply at his side like a cooked noodle.
The bleeding had stopped at the stump, but the twisted shape was enough to make one's skin crawl.
But his face was now full of frenzied laughter.
That smile was twisted and hideous, like someone who had been suppressed for decades and finally saw hope.
"This guy is a bona fide lunatic."
He walked toward Mark step by step.
Every step crunched on the rubble, making a grating sound.
"To kill you, he was actually willing to give up so much."
He shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of reflection.
In that reflection, there was admiration, fear, and an indescribable sense of—relief.
Relief that the person this lunatic wanted to kill wasn't himself.
Chapter 100: Truly Like a Shoal of Carp Crossing the River
"It's hard to imagine; he originally wanted to kill me."
Homelander looked at Mark with a complex expression.
In those eyes, there was hatred, fear, madness, and a hint of relief.
"Fortunately, you appeared..."
He stopped and stood before Mark.
Then—
He swung a heavy punch!
"Bang!"
Mark was sent flying!
He crashed into a ruined wall, which collapsed with a roar, filling the air with dust!
Bricks and debris hit him and bounced off, as if hitting a steel plate!
He struggled to crawl up, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
The blood was bright red, exceptionally piercing under the sunlight.
He felt it.
His superpowers were disappearing.
Not just those brought by Compound V—Heat Vision, flight, Bio-field—
Even his original Viltrum strength was vanishing!
The feeling was like a towering mountain collapsing!
He was turning into an ordinary person!
"Truly... ruthless enough..."
Mark muttered to himself.
He hadn't expected that in terms of scheming, he would fall behind Butcher.
This was also because the Butcher from the TV series had given him some stereotypes.
After all, the Butcher in the show seemed normal at first, but his later actions were like those of an idiot.
One moment forgiving his ex-wife.
The next moment forgiving Homelander.
And even helping Homelander raise his son.
Soldier Boy hadn't received as many shocks in his entire life as he did from those few words Butcher said.
This led to—
Mark underestimating Butcher.
He thought the Butcher of this world was nothing more than that.
A character ruined by the screenwriters.
A tool whose intelligence was completely nerfed in the later stages.
But he was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
The Butcher before him wasn't an idiot.
He was a hunter.
The craziest hunter!
The kind of madman who would use himself as bait just to kill his prey!
In the distance, the remains of Butcher—no, that pile of mangled flesh—lay quietly in the ruins.
The final expression on his face was a smile.
A smile of relief, satisfaction, and finally completing his mission.
He traded everything he had for this opportunity.
He used his life to set this death trap.
His body grew increasingly weak.
Mark could feel his heart slowing down, his blood turning cold, and his strength draining away.
Like a building collapsing.
Every second, new bricks fell.
Every second, new cracks appeared.
Homelander naturally wouldn't give him the slightest chance.
He charged forward suddenly!
His intact left hand, fingers pressed together like a blade—
With a heavy strike, he pierced Mark's heart!
"Squelch!"
The sound of flesh tearing was clear and jarring.
That sound was exceptionally soul-stirring in the silent ruins.
Homelander's entire palm protruded from Mark's back!
The hand was covered in blood, with shredded tissue caught between the fingers!
Blood ran down his arm, dripping onto the ground and blooming into scarlet flowers.
Those flowers bloomed one after another on the ground.
"Haha!"
Homelander laughed maniacally!
In that laughter was the pleasure of revenge, the release of suppression, and the madness of finally overcoming fear!
"Now, your physical strength is only slightly greater than an ordinary human's!"
His eyes were filled with the pleasure of revenge.
Those blue eyes had now turned scarlet, stained red by Mark's blood.
"Do you feel it? The so-called god—"
He leaned into Mark's ear, his voice like the hiss of a venomous snake, like a whisper from hell.
"...is nothing more than this!"
In the ruins behind them, Soldier Boy slowly stood up.
He had lost an arm, was covered in blood, and his face was as pale as paper.
Blood was still dripping from the stump, forming a small pool on the ground.
But he didn't step forward.
He just stood there, watching the scene.
He looked at Mark—the man who had just been like a god, now with his heart pierced, slumped in the ruins.
His gaze was complex.
There was regret.
There was respect.
And also a hint of something indefinable—
Sorrow.
He didn't like this.
He didn't like seeing an excellent warrior like Mark killed by such underhanded tactics.
But this was war.
War never cares about fairness.
It never cares about morality.
It never cares about the "uprightness" you desire.
Mark slumped heavily into the ruins.
He could feel his body gradually turning cold.
The feeling of a pierced heart was strange.
It wasn't pain, but emptiness.
Like something inside his body had been sucked out.
Like an inflated balloon suddenly punctured, with all the air leaking out.
He lay on the ground, looking at the azure sky above.
The sunlight poured down, blinding and warm.
The sunlight passed through the clouds, through the smoke above the ruins, and fell on his face with a touch of warmth.
"The heroes of this world..."
"...are truly like a shoal of carp crossing the river."
He murmured to himself, his voice as light as the wind, like a sigh.
Butcher.
That mortal who used his own life to set this death trap.
His body lay not far away.
Only a pile of flesh remained, no longer even recognizable as human.
"This scheme..."
"...is extremely ingenious, yet extremely mad..."
A faint curve actually appeared at the corner of his mouth.
In that curve was respect, emotion, and a hint of indefinable appreciation.
"What are you talking about?"
Homelander's voice came from above.
He stood before Mark, looking down at the man who had once terrified him to the extreme.
His arm, the one that had been twisted like a pretzel, had already stopped bleeding.
The recovery power of a Superhuman is indeed not bad.
At least far stronger than an ordinary human's!
"Just die quietly!"
He clenched his fist and raised it once more!
With this punch, he would kill Mark once and for all!
Let this nightmare end completely!
"Bang—!!!"
Flesh and blood splattered!
A large amount of blood gushed out, hitting Homelander in the face!
The blood was warm and viscous, splashing all over his face and body, making him look like an Asura crawling out of a pool of blood!
But the next second—
That "Asura" fell to the ground, howling in pain!
"Aaaaahhh—!!!"
His arm—
Was once again twisted like a pretzel by the force he had swung out!
The arm was distorted beyond recognition, bones protruding through the skin, blood spraying everywhere!
White bone shards mixed with red muscle, a shocking sight!
Mark slowly stood up from the ruins.
His movements were slow and unsteady, like an infant who had just learned to walk.
He looked down at the bloody hole in his chest.
The bloody hole pierced by Homelander was healing at a speed visible to the naked eye!
Muscles were regenerating, blood vessels connecting, skin closing up!
The speed was so fast it could be clearly seen!
Thirty seconds.
It only took thirty seconds.
"This is the true worth of royal blood, you peasant!"
Mark looked up at the wailing figure on the ground.
His face was still a bit pale, his body still a bit weak, but in his eyes—
In those eyes, a golden light was reigniting!
The light was faint at first, like a candle in the wind, but it grew brighter and stronger, finally becoming like two miniature suns!
"Although an injury like this could never have killed me in the first place."
"But I didn't expect my recovery speed to be this fast either."
He cracked his neck, the bones making a slight clicking sound.
The sound was crisp and powerful, as if announcing: I am still alive.
He clenched his fist, feeling the power surging within him again.
The power was like a tide, rising frantically!
"It's about a thousand times what I had before..."
A thousand times.
A piercing wound that would have taken hours to heal now only took dozens of seconds.
This was the gift from the combination of solar particlesand Viltrum royal blood!
He stood up straight, swaying slightly.
Those dozens of seconds without blood from his heart made him feel very weak.
After all, without a heart, blood doesn't flow, oxygen doesn't reach the whole body, and even the brain starts to lack oxygen.
But that was just a lack of strength.
His body's defense—
Was still perfect!
Chapter 101: Going Home
For Mark, he had spent over twenty days in the world of The Boys.
Over twenty days and nights.
Over five hundred hours.
He had killed Superhumans, witnessed madness, and experienced the temperature of the sun.
But for Nolan, those twenty-odd days were no more than a single breath, a blink of an eye.
In the vastness of the Great Thousand Worlds, the variable of time is so subtle, so mysterious, and yet so calm.
Nolan stood by the window, looking out at the familiar neighborhood.
The setting sun was sinking, dyeing the entire sky a warm orange-red.
He knew his son had flown into space like an adult Viltrumwarrior and given that guy Alan a thorough thrashing.
"He will be a better warrior than I am..."
Nolan murmured to himself.
Then he turned his head and looked at his wife beside him.
"Right...?"
Debbie was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of tea in her hands that had already gone cold.
Her eyes were fixed on the television, but she wasn't watching it at all.
Her thoughts had long since flown into that starry sky she could never reach.
Nolan walked over and gently pulled his wife into his arms.
The movement was very light, so light it was as if he feared breaking a piece of precious porcelain.
The tenderness of a Viltrum was displayed to its fullest at this moment.
His extreme physical control allowed him to compress strength capable of tearing steel into a gentle embrace.
It wouldn't cause his wife even a hint of pain.
It would only bring a sense of security.
Debbie leaned into his chest, her expression filled with worry.
As a mother, it was hard for her to accept her son's current situation.
That vast Universe didn't even have a place to set foot.
There wasn't even a way to breathe a single breath of air.
As a mother who, during meals, wished her son could eat an entire cow, this worry was almost swallowing her whole.
"He is our son, after all."
Nolan's voice came from above her head, deep and gentle.
"To him, outer space is second only to our home in terms of comfort."
Debbie looked up, gazing at her husband's resolute face.
She knew Nolan was comforting her.
She knew she should be at ease.
But she just couldn't do it.
"I know, I know you are both very strong."
Her tone was somewhat sorrowful.
"I can't even imagine just how strong you really are."
Nolan didn't speak; he only tightened his arms.
This emotion was contradictory.
She knew her son was becoming a man who could stand tall between heaven and earth.
Becoming more and more like his father.
He might even surpass him in some ways.
Like strength.
Like personality.
But Debbie also understood—
Mark was always Mark.
Her son was still that same person.
No one in the world knows you better than your mother.
She remembers your habits.
She remembers your moods.
She can read all your joys and sorrows from a single tiny expression.
Debbie was well aware of Mark's cold indifference.
Yes, she knew.
She knew Mark was cold and indifferent.
The death of Immortal, the death of Red Rush, the death of War Woman...
Those friends he had once shared meals with, those vibrant lives—they might make Mark reflective, but they would never make him grieve.
Debbie was very clear on this point.
But at the funerals, Mark would still sit gently beside her, putting on an expression of extreme sorrow.
That did not come from grief.
It came from love for his mother.
Even a Viltrum capable of destroying the world would appear at a loss when facing something like 'love.'
To the point of becoming a child who exerts every effort to protect a precious, fragile thing.
So Debbie felt even more gratified by this.
She knew her child was good.
Very good.
He just didn't have that much universal love.
But this happened to satisfy a mother's expectations for her child.
She didn't need him to save the world.
She didn't need him to be a hero.
As a mother, she didn't want to worry about her son's safety at all.
Yet her son had still stepped onto that glorious path toward being a hero.
But now, Debbie felt somewhat lost.
The places her son would work in the future might be filled with endless chill, might be the most dangerous of places.
They might be distant lands she could never reach.
The only thing she could do was the same as when she waited for her husband: stay at home and wait for her child to return.
Waiting.
Always waiting.
Looking at his wife's state, Nolan's brow furrowed.
He hated his current self.
Too weak.
Too weak!
Like this, he couldn't protect anything!
Like this, he couldn't keep anything safe!
Before the Viltrum army, his personal strength was simply too feeble!
Even if he was the 'Great Nolan.'
He absolutely could not defeat Grand Regent Thragg.
He couldn't even withstand two or three Viltrum warriors working together.
If those damned kinsmen really came—
Could he protect Debbie?
Could he protect Mark?
He didn't know.
He really didn't know.
Just as the old couple was feeling dejected—
"Ding-dong."
The doorbell rang.
Nolan and Debbie were both stunned for a moment.
They exchanged a look.
Then, the two of them rushed toward the door almost at the same time.
The speed was startlingly fast.
It was normal for Nolan to be fast.
For Debbie to be fast too, that was purely a mother's instinct.
"Hello, Mom and Dad!"
The door was pushed open, and Mark stood at the entrance, his smile as bright as afternoon sunlight.
He was back in his usual casual clothes, and his hair was still a bit damp; he had clearly just showered.
"I brought a friend back."
He stepped aside.
A figure walked out from behind him.
It was a woman.
Tall, robust, with sharp features and a heroic, spirited beauty.
She was wearing simple jeans and a white T-shirt, her smile bright and gentle.
"Hello, Uncle and Auntie."
Maeve bowed slightly, her voice crisp.
"My name is Maeve."
"!?"
It was as if a giant question Mark had simultaneously appeared over the old couple's heads.
Their son went out on a mission—
In just a single afternoon—
And he's already brought a beautiful girl back home?!
Nolan's eyes narrowed slightly.
He looked Maeve up and down, his gaze carrying a scrutiny unique to Viltrums.
Height: about 1.8 meters, excellent.
Physique: robust and powerful, clearly a trained fighter, excellent.
Demeanor: poised and natural, neither servile nor overbearing, excellent.
Looks: sharp features, heroic spirit, excellent.
Nolan silently assigned scores in his heart.
Finally, he reached a conclusion—
Good lad!
With this taste, he truly is a fine son of Viltrum!
Chapter 102: The Paddy Field is Fertile
Meanwhile, Debbie's gaze landed elsewhere.
This girl...
She seems a bit older than Mark?
More than just a bit.
Maeve's current age is exactly twenty-seven.
How should one describe it?
The paddy fields are fertile, the wheat fields are bountiful...
But Debbie smiled anyway.
Her smile was kind and gentle.
This girl looks tall, has a great figure, and is beautiful.
As a mother-in-law, her requirements for a girl, besides these, were a good personality.
Personality isn't something you can see at a glance.
But since she was her son's friend, she would certainly host her with a beaming smile.
"Ah, you brought a friend home!"
Debbie's voice was filled with pleasant surprise.
"Come in, come in! I'll go prepare dinner right now!"
She spoke as she walked toward the kitchen.
Halfway there, she looked back at Nolan.
The look in her eyes meant: What are you standing there for? Help out!
As people who had been through it, the old couple knew very well that at a time like this, they had to leave the young people some space to be alone.
Whether you're going for a Battle of Red Cliffs or a pincer attack...
As long as the commotion wasn't too loud, the old couple would just smile and treat it like a gentle breeze.
The world is just that simple.
Everyone has been young once, and when they were young, they played quite adventurously.
Their methods were even incredibly comprehensive!
This was an experienced old married couple...
Nolan understood perfectly.
"Right, right, right, we have plenty of fresh ingredients today!"
He said loudly.
Then he followed her toward the kitchen.
Reaching the kitchen door, he looked back at Mark.
That look meant: Kid, well done!
"Bang."
The kitchen door closed.
For a moment, the entire living room was empty.
Leaving only Mark and Maeve.
Seeing Nolan and Debbie's enthusiasm, Maeve's tense heart finally relaxed.
She had been a bit worried.
Worried that Nolan and Debbie would look down on her for being older.
After all, she was a full nine years older than Mark.
Nine years.
In ancient times, that would be a whole generation's difference.
But judging from Debbie and Nolan's reactions—
This family is actually quite open-minded.
"I told you, didn't I?"
Mark happily led Maeve into the living room and plopped down on the sofa.
"The atmosphere in our home is great."
He picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the coffee table and grabbed a small knife.
He started peeling it.
His movements were skillful; the blade spun against the skin, peeling a long, thin strip of apple skin that never broke from start to finish.
Maeve sat beside him, watching curiously.
She had seen Mark kill.
She had seen Mark fight.
She had seen Mark bathing in the sun.
But Mark peeling an apple—
This was the first time she had seen it.
"Here."
Mark handed her the peeled apple.
Then he plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and tossed it into his mouth.
Maeve took the apple and took a bite.
It was crisp, sweet, and juicy.
But her gaze fell on Mark.
He was eating grapes, one after another, casually and naturally.
Maeve suddenly remembered an internet meme—
The "plain white bun" of fruits, one of the most boring fruits, is the apple.
It doesn't have the juiciness of grapes, the sweetness of strawberries, or the richness of mangoes.
It's just a boring fruit.
But at this moment, this "boring fruit" tasted exceptionally sweet and crisp in her mouth.
She smiled, plucked a grape, and held it to Mark's lips.
Mark opened his mouth and took it.
Then he sliced off a piece of apple and held it to Maeve's lips.
Maeve bit into it.
The two sat on the sofa like that, feeding each other grapes and apples.
Sunlight streamed in from the window, coating the floor in a layer of gold.
This moment was very quiet.
Very beautiful.
"You don't need to worry about your identity issue."
Mark suddenly spoke.
Maeve looked at him.
"I happen to know the person in charge of security in this world."
Mark said.
"Once he sees your strength, that guy will definitely arrange proper identity information for you immediately."
He smiled.
"After all, in that guy's eyes, creating fake information is nothing.
As long as it maintains the safety of the public."
Maeve gave him a reproachful glare.
"You make it sound like I'm some kind of dangerous person."
She crossed her arms, causing her chest to heave momentarily.
"Haha, of course you couldn't be a dangerous person."
"But those two lethal weapons on your chest definitely need to be disarmed!"
"Quick, let this hero inspect them!"
Mark's gaze was involuntarily drawn there.
That rising curve, those firm lines—
He instantly felt his internal fire rising.
This isn't good for the health.
As someone who enjoys taking care of his body, Markimmediately took action.
"I'll let you do it tonight..."
Maeve whispered, shrinking back toward the side of the sofa.
In this situation, a real man should take the initiative and strike!
Regardless of what kind of strike it is!
Mark shifted his weight toward Maeve.
And shifted again.
And again!
Maeve was squeezed into the corner of the sofa, with nowhere left to retreat.
"What are you doing—"
She cried out, and before she could resist, Mark scooped her up and placed her directly on his lap.
A fragrant softness filled his arms.
Mark narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.
He leaned close to Maeve's neck and took a deep breath.
A faint fragrance wafted into his nose, a mix of body wash and her natural scent.
Maeve's wheat-colored shoulders and neck instantly began to turn red.
The redness spread from the base of her neck up to her ears and cheeks.
"Your... your parents are still in the kitchen!"
Her voice was extremely low, tinged with the nervous guilt of someone doing something wrong.
It was so embarrassing!
On her very first day at her boyfriend's house, she was being held on his lap!
Anyone who didn't know better would think they were about to start cooking right there on the sofa!
Maeve gave a token wiggle of her hips.
But in the end, she stayed obediently in Mark's arms.
It wasn't that she didn't want to struggle.
She really couldn't break free.
This man could lift her with one hand.
She leaned back, using Mark's shoulder as a pillow, gazing at his profile with hazy eyes.
The sunlight from the window traced a golden silhouette on his face.
The lines from his forehead to the tip of his nose, and from his nose to his chin, were smooth and perfect.
For a time, the atmosphere became ambiguous.
Mark's Adam's apple bobbed.
Just as he was about to take the next step—
"Hey, hey, hey! Beef soup is here!"
The kitchen door was suddenly thrown open!
Nolan rushed out with a pot of steaming soup at lightning speed!
And then—
He clearly saw the scene before him.
His son was holding a beautiful girl on his lap.
The girl's face was as red as a cooked shrimp.
Nolan's footsteps paused for a moment.
But his expression didn't change at all.
The protective old man's lips curled as he looked at Mark.
"You kid—"
A glint flashed in his eyes that only a Viltrum could understand.
"Not bad!"
The next second—
The old man erupted with the true speed of Omni-Man!
That speed was so fast the naked eye couldn't track it!
He placed the soup pot on the table in an instant!
In the next instant, he flashed back to the kitchen door!
In the gap of speed that only a Viltrum could see, he glanced back at Mark.
Then, he gave a thumbs-up.
That thumb was thick and powerful, carrying the full approval of a father for his son.
Chapter 103: Small Baby
Bang!
The kitchen door was slammed shut.
Mark sat where he was, smiling awkwardly at Maeve.
Performing such intimate antics right in front of his own father made even him feel a bit embarrassed.
Though when he was little, his mom and dad loved to pull these kinds of antics in front of him too.
But back then, he was just a child.
A mere small baby of a few months old.
In Nolan and Debbie's minds, he had no memory or intelligence at that time.
But clearly, they didn't know—
Mark's head contained the soul of an adult.
During those few months, Mark had fully witnessed the stamina of Viltrums.
As the saying goes, only the ox can be worked to death; the field never wears out.
But in the eyes of a Viltrum, the situation was completely reversed.
Every night, the sounds lingering in Mark's ears were:
"Oh... oh..."
"Oh my god..."
"Oh my god!!!"
God knows how much psychological impact that had on a child!
Mark had every reason to suspect—
That these two old folks might have felt a transgressive sense of novelty by doing that in front of their child.
Perhaps they got addicted to it for a time, birthing some kind of peculiar sentiment.
But clearly—
A young guy who'd lived for twenty-some years obviously couldn't compare to an old-timer who'd lived for over a thousand.
"Quick, let me down!"
Maeve was now so ashamed she didn't dare look at anyone.
She buried her face in Mark's chest, her voice muffled but carrying a hint of a tremble.
That tremble wasn't from fear, but from shame.
This was so humiliating!
The first time she came to her boyfriend's house, she was caught by his father sitting on his lap!
How was she supposed to face her father-in-law in the future!
Seeing her like this, Mark's own sense of shame was instead suppressed.
In its place was a sort of mischievous pleasure.
He held Maeve directly and gave her two more kisses.
Those two kisses were firm and made a loud smacking sound.
"Mmph—!"
Maeve struggled a bit, but there was no way she could break free.
By the time Mark finally let her go, she was so ashamed she felt like she might evaporate on the spot.
She instantly put half a butt's width of distance between herself and Mark.
She glared at Mark with a look of reproach.
In that gaze, there was shame, anger, and an indescribable—sweetness.
"Don't even think about touching me tonight!"
Maeve issued a solemn warning.
"Alright, alright~"
Mark looked innocent.
"Don't you know what kind of person I am?"
As he spoke, he shuffled toward Maeve's side.
Clearly, he wanted to pull Maeve onto his lap again.
Maeve glared at him.
Her eyes were saying: Just try moving an inch?
Mark paused for a moment.
Then he shuffled again.
"Like I'd believe your crap!"
Maeve blurted out.
A man's mouth truly is a lying ghost.
Back when they had their first time, Mark was saying things like 'I'm a true gentleman' while simultaneously wanting to 'check' if Maeve's body was healthy.
"Let me see if you're healthy!"
Then Mark laughed.
He laughed so hard he bent over.
This woman was still too naive, always harboring such unrealistic fantasies.
When the time comes, you'll be like a therapy bed in a wellness center—nothing but 'poking' and 'prodding'!
Maeve's face turned red again.
But in that redness, there was a hint of a smile she couldn't help.
"Shut up!"
She picked up a throw pillow and smashed it into Mark's face.
Mark caught the pillow, laughing even harder.
In the kitchen, Nolan and Debbie were peeking through the crack in the door, secretly observing everything in the living room.
"This girl is not bad,"
Nolan whispered.
"One look and you can tell she's a fighter."
Debbie rolled her eyes at him.
"All you care about is if they can fight."
"Of course."
Nolan was righteous and confident.
"When a Viltrum chooses a daughter-in-law, the first standard is whether she can fight. Otherwise, how can she protect herself?"
Debbie paused for a moment.
"Was that why you chose me back then too?"
Nolan's expression instantly froze.
"Uh... well... that is..."
Debbie smiled.
In that smile, there was pride, happiness, and a hint of 'I saw through you long ago' cunning.
"Alright, don't bother explaining."
She turned around and continued working on the dishes in her hands.
"Hurry up and take the soup out before it gets cold."
Nolan felt as if he'd been granted a great pardon; he picked up the soup pot and rushed out of the kitchen again.
This time, his speed was much more normal.
Mark and Maeve were now sitting properly on the sofa, with at least half a meter of distance between them.
Nolan placed the soup on the table, pretending he hadn't seen a thing.
"Time to eat, time to eat!"
He called out loudly.
Debbie also walked out of the kitchen, carrying plates of hot food.
Braised pork, steamed fish, garlic greens, and a large bowl of steaming rice.
"Come, come, don't be shy."
She beckoned to Maeve.
"Just treat it like your own home."
Maeve nodded and sat obediently at the dining table.
She picked up a piece of braised pork and put it in her mouth.
The meat was fatty but not greasy, melting in her mouth with a rich savory aroma.
"Delicious!"
She praised sincerely.
Debbie's smile widened until her mouth couldn't close.
"If it's good, eat more."
She kept piling food onto Maeve's plate.
"Come, come, try this fish."
"These greens are very fresh too."
"Is that enough rice? Let me get you another bowl."
Watching from the side, Mark couldn't help but smile.
His mom's posture was clearly treating Maeve like a daughter-in-law.
No, even closer than a daughter-in-law.
It was as if she were a long-lost biological daughter.
Nolan, meanwhile, was constantly pouring water for Maeve.
"Have some water, don't choke."
"This soup is good too, have more."
"If there's not enough, there's more; I'll go get it."
Maeve was a bit overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the old couple.
She glanced at Mark.
Mark winked at her.
The meaning was: You'll get used to it.
The meal was eaten in complete harmony.
After dinner, Debbie pulled Maeve into the kitchen to wash dishes, saying they needed to "cultivate the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law bond."
Mark and Nolan sat in the living room, a rare moment of father-son solitude.
Nolan looked at Mark, his gaze carrying a complex emotion.
"That girl—"
He began.
"Hmm?"
"She's good."
Nolan said.
"Treat her well."
Mark was stunned for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"Dad, since when did you become so sentimental?"
Nolan snorted.
"I've always been sentimental."
He paused.
"You just didn't know it."
Mark didn't speak.
He looked out the window at the sky that had already darkened.
Stars began to appear, one, then two, then more and more.
"Dad."
He suddenly spoke.
"Hmm?"
"It'll be okay..."
Mark turned his head and looked at his father.
"Even if the process is winding, everything will reach the right place in the end."
Nolan was silent for a long time.
Then he reached out and patted Mark on the shoulder.
The force was heavy.
"You really should go write a book..."