Herman returned to Stellar Tower, unaware that Mephisto was already brewing a conspiracy against him.
The mission to rescue Wanda had brought him an unexpected windfall—the remnant soul of the ancient elemental demon Zarathos, which granted him a tremendous boost in power. Particularly in terms of divine strength, Herman was no longer the same as before. That was precisely why he had been able to forge a new Ghost Rider.
The vessel may have been left behind by a god, but without sufficient divine power, even Herman could never have seized control of the Spirit of Vengeance.
He roughly gauged his current strength. Where once he could only wrestle Thor, God of Thunder, as an equal, now he could defeat him seven times out of ten. Never make the mistake of assuming Thor is just a muscle-brained fool. Odin did not name him heir merely because he was his son.
Even setting aside the terrifying might of Rune King Thor, Thor's mastery over lightning alone was among the most supreme divine powers in any mythology. Take Zeus, for example. Throughout Asgard's wars, Thor had served as the unstoppable vanguard, his combat experience vast and bloody.
So being able to best Thor seventy-thirty was proof enough of Herman's current tier of power—one of the absolute elite, even when measured against the Nine Realms.
Of course, he was still far from the hidden giants. But Herman had no doubt it was only a matter of time before he caught up. His growing collection of identities had already given him overwhelming potential. And in the future, more identities would come, each with its own unique strengths. His prospects would only continue to soar.
"This kind of luck… When will I finally get to be the lucky one?"
It had been several days since his return to Stellar Tower. He had drawn another identity—this time a Bronze-tier [Fashion Guru]. For Herman, it was utterly useless.
It gave him nothing more than knowledge of clothing and style. His exclusive mission was to outfit one thousand people in a way that satisfied them. He had cleared it in a single afternoon with the power of cash. No passerby would refuse a free outfit, especially not when it was a brand-new designer piece.
The joy of Batman. Herman understood it well.
The reward this time was at least amusing, even if it didn't enhance his strength in the slightest. Instant Outfit Change. As the name implied, he could swap clothes in the blink of an eye. At least it solved the problem of ruined outfits in battle.
Not that Herman cared much for the skill. After completing the [Raven Emissary] mission, he had acquired a thousand square kilometers of alternate space. It was barren, but perfect for storage. Changing clothes inside was easy enough.
And there was something even stranger: time in that space flowed differently. Ten days inside amounted to only one hour passing in reality.
Because of that, Herman preferred not to linger there. The All-Seeing Eye only counted real-world time, and hiding in another dimension wasted its countdown.
"When will I finally draw a Platinum-tier identity?"
Bored, Herman stood in front of a mirror, repeatedly using Instant Outfit Change. One moment he wore a sharp suit and tie, the next a baggy hip-hop outfit with bell-bottoms. The ability could even strip him down to just his underwear instantly.
Any further, though, required manual effort. It was Instant Outfit Change, not Instant Strip, after all. Still, he figured it might save time in certain situations.
"Big brother, when can I go to the new—"
Wanda suddenly pushed open the office door, poking her head in with her usual curiosity.
But she froze.
Herman was standing in front of the mirror, dressed only in his underwear, lost in thought. The words on her lips died immediately.
Bang!
She slammed the door shut before Herman could even turn around.
"You scared me..."
Herman quickly dressed himself in casual clothes, worried she'd mistake him for some narcissistic pervert.
What he didn't know was that outside the door, Wanda was leaning against the wall, cheeks flushed red like a ripe apple. She pressed her hand against her pounding chest, trying to calm herself down.
Her mind replayed the image over and over.
Big brother... really is big.
Western girls always seemed to mature a little faster.
…
"So annoying. I went out to buy something, got recognized by the shop assistant again, and then a whole crowd surrounded me. Some creep even tried to grope me."
"I kicked that pervert to the ground with one strike."
During lunch, Skye complained to everyone with a look of exasperation.
"Didn't your fierce reaction scare the fans around you?"
Quicksilver stared at her curiously, eyes wide. Beside him, Wanda kept her head down, quietly eating without saying a word.
"They were still cheering me on, telling me to use my powers to punish that creep. Like I actually have powers! Seriously, these people can't tell the difference between reality and TV."
Skye rubbed her temples in frustration. Even while ranting, she kept eating at a pace no slower than anyone else at the table.
Today's lunch had been cooked by Herman himself, leaving everyone thoroughly satisfied. Thanks to the ability granted by his [Genius Chef] trait, every time Herman dined at a high-end restaurant, he could come back and perfectly replicate their seasoning formulas.
Over time, he had built up an impressive level of culinary skill. Luckily, he didn't need to open a restaurant for profit—otherwise, he'd have put countless fine dining establishments out of business.
At the table, everyone ate happily together.
Carrie's cheeks were stuffed like a squirrel's. Cross and Fox exchanged a glance, and seeing the others treat it as normal, they chose to do the same.
"Didn't you used to love being a celebrity? What's wrong, already tired of it?"
Aunt May ate more gracefully than the others, smiling warmly at Skye.
Skye looked miserable. "Who knew being a celebrity would be such a hassle? I can't even enjoy a peaceful life anymore."
She valued her privacy and couldn't stand a life where she constantly had to guard against fans and paparazzi.
The buzz from The Boys was still rising, but thanks to some unknown tricks from S.H.I.E.L.D., the crowds around the Stellar Tower had disappeared.
However, if any of the cast went to a crowded place without a mask, enthusiastic fans of the show would still recognize them.
"I'm the one who hates this life the most, okay?"
Herman joined the complaints too. He'd already run into crazy single women more than once while out shopping.
"Well, who told you to film something that messed up?"
Skye compared her situation to his and realized she had it much better than Herman. Her mood lightened instantly.
"Speaking of this, I think my nephew's hit puberty… he keeps sneaking around in his room, and I have no idea what he's up to."
Aunt May thought of Peter Parker, though she couldn't explain why she associated "perversion" with adolescence. Maybe it was because Peter made strange noises in his dorm room every day after school, noises that lasted until nightfall?
Even if it was puberty, Aunt May still felt it was a bit much. That's why she wanted advice from colleagues who seemed about Peter's age.
"Maybe he's keeping a secret he doesn't want you to know? Or maybe he's secretly working out so he can impress everyone?"
Quicksilver guessed thoughtfully. Despite stealing Herman's Playboy magazines, he was still a pretty innocent young man.
"Ah, I really hope that's all it is."
Aunt May trailed off, hesitating. She sighed with concern.
"Don't worry too much. Kids always have their secrets."
In truth, Herman knew exactly what Spidey was up to. But he couldn't tell Aunt May. He couldn't exactly say, "Your nephew's obsessed with money lately, and he's been supplying loads of material to the New York Daily Bugle every day."
He'd promised Peter Parker to keep Spider-Man's secret, and Herman wasn't about to break his word. He also couldn't reveal the deal he and Peter had struck. Thanks to Spider-Man's stories, the New York Daily Bugle's circulation was skyrocketing daily.
Herman even felt he didn't need to chase down other superheroes or rely on S.H.I.E.L.D. for political scoops anymore.
Spidey's news sold like crazy in New York.
Of course, a lot of it also had to do with a certain genius at the paper who deliberately took the opposite stance. That guy might genuinely despise Spider-Man.
Every time Spider-Man's heroic photos came in, this moustached genius could twist them into elaborate arguments about Spidey's supposed sinister motives. Herman had even set up a special column at the New York Daily Bugle just for him to write in.
And surprisingly, it worked. Harsh criticism of Spider-Man's heroics sold better than constant praise.
Peter Parker, of course, had a lot to say about it. But after Herman paid him an extra $500, Spidey admitted he needed that kind of wake-up call.
"Oh, Wanda, since you're starting at a new school, I'll take you shopping for some clothes later, and we'll pick up gifts for your new classmates."
Herman had already arranged Wanda's enrollment. When it came to sending a mutant to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Professor Charles agreed without hesitation. Herman didn't even need to bring up Wanda's background.
Professor Charles, as the leader of the mutants, was willing to accept any mutant who needed help. Still, after getting his consent, Herman hinted at her situation, hoping Wanda would receive more attention and care at school.
Things unfolded exactly as expected. When Professor Charles guessed Wanda's background, he nearly jumped out of his wheelchair.
Herman barely stopped him from showing up immediately to take Wanda away. Even so, for the next few days, he kept receiving calls from the professor.
They sounded like friendly chats about family life, but Herman knew Charles was really just pressing him to send Wanda to school as soon as possible.
"Will the new students get along with me?" Wanda had been looking forward to making new friends, though she couldn't help feeling nervous.
"I think they will," Herman thought.
Even if someone at school tried to bully her, Professor Charles would never allow it. The bond between generations applied just as much to mutants.
"You need to behave at your new school. No more trouble," Quicksilver warned, worried about Wanda's mischievous streak.
"I know, I won't," Wanda promised again and again.
The others at the company only knew Wanda had gotten into trouble at her last school and that Herman had transferred her to another private one.
Because of that, they didn't find the siblings' conversation strange at all. Some even added that she would surely learn her lesson this time.
"Are you really not interested in going to school?" Herman asked Quicksilver. He had suggested before that Quicksilver should attend and pick up some knowledge.
But Quicksilver had no interest whatsoever in studying. He just liked hanging around the company as a security guard, doing nothing all day.
"That's not for me." Quicksilver refused again.
...
After finishing their meal, Herman took Wanda to the busiest commercial district.
To avoid being recognized by fans, Herman carefully adjusted his appearance and wore an N95-grade mask.
As the commercial heart of New York, the streets bustled with fashionably dressed men and women, perfectly displaying the city's vibrancy.
Wanda wore a white coat, jeans, and a pair of red flats. With her small backpack on, she nervously clutched Herman's hand.
Surrounded by the city's elites, wealthy shoppers, and storefronts flaunting clothes and shoes priced in the hundreds or thousands of dollars, the girl who had once drifted from a small country felt a wave of pressure crush down on her.
That pressure came from the divide between social classes.
In America, people from different classes lived as if in different worlds, and this subtle separation made those from lower classes instinctively fear and feel inferior to those above.
Wanda was clearly affected. She squeezed Herman's hand tighter, not daring to meet the gaze of a single passerby.
"You need to be confident."
Herman's warm voice reached her ear. His other hand gently patted her slightly curly, pale red hair.
"Look," he said calmly, "those people are just ordinary. If I wanted, I could take their lives in a minute."
His voice was soft, as though he were stating a simple fact.
"That would be wrong..."
Before her darker days, Wanda was still a girl with a strong sense of right and wrong. She clung to Herman's arm, terrified that he might actually slaughter everyone on the street.
Herman couldn't help but smile helplessly. How could even Wanda think he was as violent as the Homelander?
Besides, didn't even Homelander fear online backlash?
"I'm not saying I'd ever do that. I'm telling you that you, like me, have extraordinary power capable of it."
He wanted to build her confidence. "We are the extraordinary ones in this world. You don't need to look up to anyone."
In truth, Herman held back one more thought—that it should be ordinary people looking up to them. But words that condescending weren't suitable for teaching a child.
"I understand... Thank you, big brother."
Wanda knew Herman was right and that he only wanted the best for her. Taking a deep breath, her eyes grew firm. When she looked again at the urban elites and white-collar workers around her, her gaze no longer avoided theirs, and her self-doubt was gone.
Yes.
These people were nothing more than ordinary.
She and her big brother both had superpowers, so there was no need to fear contempt. If anyone dared to look down on her, she had the strength to make them speak properly.
That was what Wanda thought to herself.
After Herman's guidance, the crushing pressure she had felt seemed to vanish completely.
In its place... came a different kind of feeling.