Not only Lucoa and the others,
but even the Holy Master and the freshly returned Demon Dragon's faces darkened.
Too far. Way too far.
The poor woman had been disfigured—paralyzed, no less—
and this lunatic had the nerve to say he'd used her remaining hand for a "crescent strike"?
Ronn sighed, shaking his head.
Indeed, some fetishes are simply beyond salvation.
"My father," the Demon Dragon muttered, "I feel like we're not the real demons here. He is."
The Holy Master took a deep breath and said gravely,
"My foolish son, remember this—
some men may look human,
but are far more terrifying than any demon."
The Demon Dragon nodded thoughtfully.
"You're right. Which is why, dear Father, maybe it's time you quit your little side projects.
Hand over the talismans. Once I return to Blue Star, I'll cleanse that entire world myself."
Bang!!
The familiar sound rang out again as the Demon Dragon flew perfectly horizontal out the tavern door.
"Hopeless brat," the Holy Master grumbled, flexing his clawed hand.
Homelander, whose confession had been interrupted, watched the flying dragon and murmured,
"He's right, though.
This is a sick world, full of sick people. It needs cleansing."
He stared into his drink, eyes trembling with fury.
"Today I found out Stormfront killed herself—
after I, uh… did what I did with her hand.
And now Starlight's been promoted to lead The Seven."
His tone grew more unhinged by the second.
"I'm done pretending to be the innocent boy, the soft-spoken hero who apologizes on camera!
I ripped the mask off during the press conference—
told the world what they really are. What we really are.
And you know what? My approval rating went up!
Tell me—doesn't that prove how twisted this world is?!"
This wasn't confession anymore.
It was indictment.
He was screaming at the world through his tears.
He licked the last trace of milk from the bottle's glass neck,
his voice hoarse and hollow.
The tavern fell utterly silent.
Everyone just stared at him—this broken man,
his humanity laid bare and bleeding for all to see.
Then Ronn's calm voice cut through the quiet.
"If you've had enough," he said evenly,
"then destroy it."
Homelander froze.
"But remember—this might be your last act of madness.
Because there will be people who'll stop at nothing to kill you.
Your father, Soldier Boy… and plenty of others who hate you."
Ronn knew reasoning wouldn't work on a psychopath.
You didn't comfort monsters—you showed them consequences.
That was the only way to keep him… useful.
"Father?" Homelander blinked. "Soldier Boy?"
"That's right."
"He's dead!" he snapped. "Isn't he?! Why would he want to kill me?"
Ronn smiled faintly. "Not dead. Just frozen in a lab somewhere."
As for the why—he didn't answer.
Nothing in this tavern came for free.
Every beast left behind its hide.
Homelander saw it in his eyes and gritted his teeth.
"What do you want for the information?"
"Simple," Ronn said, shrugging. "Compound V."
That was the serum that granted superpowers—unpredictable, dangerous, and addictively lethal.
Ronn had wanted it since the moment Homelander stepped inside.
Not for himself—he could trade it, or convert it into points.
"Impossible." Homelander shook his head sharply.
"It's locked down by the company. If they found out, even I couldn't stop them."
"Suit yourself," Ronn said lightly.
"I don't force anyone."
He paused, smiling slyly.
"Shame, though. I was going to offer you a drink that could make your crescent strike go even higher."
Homelander's eyes went wide.
"…Higher?"
"Of course," Ronn said smoothly. "A special brew. In the right wind, it could double your range."
A storm of sinful imagination flashed through the man's mind—
him, atop a skyscraper under the pale moon, arms spread, wind howling—
and then, one glorious arc of pure power.
"Oh… my God," he whispered. "Beautiful."
"Tomorrow," Ronn said. "Bring me the serum, and the drink's yours."
Hook. Line. Sinker.
"Deal!" Homelander's eyes burned with excitement. "You'll have it tomorrow."
A mechanical chime echoed in Ronn's mind.
[Ding — Customer Homelander has completed his confession.]
[Customer Homelander: X-ray Vision, Super Strength, Super Speed, Invulnerability… Choose one.]
"X-ray vision," Ronn said immediately.
[Ding — Fusion begins.]
A cool sensation washed through his eyes.
When he opened them again, the tavern looked… different.
Everything—walls, furniture, people—was visible in layers.
Lucoa immediately noticed the change in his gaze.
She smiled. "Enjoying the view?"
Ronn blurted before he could stop himself. "Looks great!"
Rem and Ram blinked, puzzled.
Tohru blushed and tugged the hem of her skirt down instinctively.
Then—bang!
The tavern door swung open again.
In stepped Liang Bing—tight black cheongsam, high slit, sheer stockings catching the light.
She sauntered up to the bar, eyes half-lidded with mischief.
"Miss me?"
The room went still.
Tohru froze mid-slice, Rem and Ram set down their trays, their faces turning sour.
The twins glared daggers at the woman clearly trying to steal their master away.
Ronn kept his face straight. "No."
Liang Bing crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward over the counter.
"Really?" she purred.
Ronn sat up stiffly, eyes forward—
but they betrayed him, darting down for just a split second.
Rip… oh, sweet mercy.
She grinned. "Fine, fine, I'll stop teasing. Any more and your little maids might actually stab me."
Sitting back, she glanced toward the newcomer at the bar.
In a blink, her mind reached into his memories.
Her eyes gleamed. "Now this one's interesting."
"Hey, little boy," she said. "Want to join my side?"
Homelander's expression turned cold.
"Not interested.
Now do me a favor—get lost."
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
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