Why This Ron?

Unlike Starlight, who sat at the far end, Ron occupied the first seat on the right side of the inverted V-shaped conference table.

That seat used to belong to Translucent.

But right now, Translucent was probably in a hospital, listening to a plastic surgeon recommend which nose shape suited his face best.

"Your appearance can shape your entire life. A chance to change your fate, dropped from the sky—hope he seizes it tight."

Ron leaned back in his chair, propping his head on his hand as he gazed out at the view, letting out a soft sigh.

His posture was casual, showing not a hint of respect for Homelander, the team leader beside him. His suit was a battle uniform dominated by black and silver-gray.

Beneath the form-fitting suit, which seemed woven from carbon fiber, his full, firm pectorals and sharply defined abs—a nearly flawless physique—looked forged from steel, leaving no doubt that every muscle held explosive power.

Unlike everyone else's flashy, colorful suits that resembled stage costumes, his was solemn and commanding, evoking the image of a true superhero.

Starlight was momentarily stunned. Today's Ron felt completely different from the suited Ron she'd seen yesterday—more masculine and magnetic. Though she'd glimpsed part of his physique yesterday, it hadn't hit her with this full, overwhelming impact.

Ron had designed his suit himself. It resembled the black suit Superman wore after his resurrection—simpler, without a cape. His flight style was unique, making a cape a burden for now.

On his chest wasn't the hopeful "S," but something like a pitch-black black hole ringed with a starry halo.

"Need me to introduce you?"

"Starlight, this is your fellow new teammate... Oh, right, what's your name again?"

Homelander spoke as if kindly offering help, then turned mid-sentence to ask.

His smile seemed bright, but carried a hint of insincerity—a forced grin.

This teammate, who'd parachuted in without a formal induction, had already gotten rid of the Deep and sent Translucent to the hospital. He didn't like him one bit.

The Seven had always been his turf, and he felt his authority as leader was being challenged.

Silence!

The atmosphere in the conference room froze, and in an instant, everyone went quiet.

Queen Maeve said nothing. A-Train trembled nervously, because it was obvious Homelander was in a bad mood.

No one wanted to cross Homelander when he was upset—if they hoped to still be sitting here tomorrow.

"Ron."

Ron turned his gaze from the scenery outside, completely ignoring Homelander, and looked at Starlight, speaking casually.

"Or you can call me by my alias, 'Dark Star' or 'Death Star.'"

Being a superhero meant having a code name. He'd picked one at random, since he didn't plan on being a serious hero anyway, and it was only for use in this universe.

Left hanging on the spot, Homelander's smile gradually stiffened.

No one had ever disrespected him like this. Never!

"Thanks. Thanks for telling a girl you abandoned your name—only today."

Thinking back to yesterday's ordeal, being treated that way without even knowing his name, Starlight felt a surge of anger, ready to blurt it out.

But seeing Homelander's expression, she opened her mouth, then held back. She let out a breath and shot Ron a meaningful glance, signaling him to look beside him.

Because the most powerful superhero on Earth was staring at him, his gaze so cold it could shatter steel.

But unfortunately, Ron acted as if he hadn't noticed, or simply ignored her warning.

"Dark Star... also a star of death's omen. The 80th star in Ursa Major, representing death in astrology?"

"That's not a good omen."

Though anger simmered inside, Homelander forced a smile back onto his face as he walked behind Ron, placing his hands on his shoulders like a well-meaning piece of advice.

"How about changing it?"

With his hands on Ron's shoulders, a simple twist could snap a person's neck.

Maeve grew more tense, fearing the volatile Homelander might act on impulse—sending a new member to the hospital or even the grave on his first day.

Black Noir, usually silent and aloof, stopped his idle doodling. A-Train barely dared to breathe.

"The bad omen isn't for me—it's for my enemies."

Ron refused without hesitation, his voice flat and unyielding.

"Is that so?"

"And Madelyn actually approved that name."

Homelander secretly tensed his muscles, ready to discipline this new recruit, starting with making him change that name.

He'd teach him that in this team, he should be revered like a god.

"Why wouldn't she? I didn't see her object."

As soon as he finished speaking, Maeve and the others exchanged odd looks.

Why wouldn't she? Superheroes were practically products pushed by Vought. The product couldn't decide its own name—it had to be one that attracted fans and sold merchandise.

Even their "life stories" were carefully crafted PR materials.

How did a codename like Ron even get approved?

He parachutes into the team, does whatever he wants, and the company doesn't stop him—how did he land such special treatment?

"Alright, enough chitchat. Meeting begins."

Setting aside his plan to assert dominance through force, Homelander hesitated for a few seconds before sinking back into his seat with a grim expression.

This had never happened before. Among the two hundred-plus superheroes in the company, his status had always been the most untouchable.

If the vice president weren't Madelyn, the one he fancied, no one outranked him except the president. He could do whatever he wanted.

But now it seemed there was someone else who could do the same.

He'd assumed the new member just didn't know the rules, but now it looked like he didn't need to follow them at all.

"Just like me—unless it hits core interests, the company's rules bend for him."

But he was the most powerful superhero on Earth. What gave this Ron the right?

Homelander shot a covert glance at Ron beside him.

During the meeting, Ron didn't bother listening to a word.

Everyone took turns reporting their weekly crime-fighting results, all pre-arranged by Vought—a complete waste of time.

Just small talk to avoid scaring the new recruit by showing their true colors too soon.

He looked at the panel before him.

Ability Points: 56,000

Recorded Template: Homelander — Price: 340,000.

From the brief physical contact earlier, the system had already recorded Homelander's template.

"Compared to Ryan, that's 40,000 short."

Buying the template would let him instantly reach the template owner's level of development.

Ryan's template cost 300,000 points. His high Ability Points came from the potential of his young Homelander Physique, needing time to grow and develop.

"Buying Homelander's template would get me there in one go."

Saving twenty or thirty years.

But right now, his Ability Points were far from enough to purchase Homelander's template.

"Kicking out the Deep, injuring Translucent, and having a little 'scuffle' with Starlight only netted me over 20,000 Ability Points."

Ron shook his head inwardly.

Those three weren't that strong, and their fates hadn't changed much. Getting this many points was only because they were key characters.

He looked across at Queen Maeve sitting opposite.

"Queen Maeve—one of the few strong heroes under Homelander."

"If I could completely upend her fate, that should net me over 100,000 points."

Queen Maeve was a major character in The Boys Universe, with well-rounded abilities. She was the counterpart to Wonder Woman from the Justice League, and though she lacked divine artifacts, she matched up in every other way.

Standing still, a speeding truck that crashed into her shattered on impact without budging her an inch—showing terrifying strength.

And she came out unscathed. Her defense was far stronger than Wonder Woman's, who still needed bracers to block bullets.

"And A-Train..."

After the meeting ended, he turned his gaze to A-Train.

"He should be worth a few tens of thousands too."

Among The Seven, besides Homelander and Queen Maeve, he was the strongest.

The fastest superhero on Earth, the counterpart to The Flash, even if his speed wasn't even a fraction of The Flash's.

But that was mainly because the Speed Force was just too overpowered.

Not long after the meeting ended.

Someone from the company approached Ron, carefully asking if he'd be willing to join a crime-fighting operation tomorrow night—paired with Queen Maeve.

On the other side were Starlight and Black Noir, a veteran-rookie combo for a joint mission, a PR event for the two new members.

Crime-fighting, in Vought's eyes, was just an activity to film from start to finish and boost popularity.

"Queen Maeve? Sure."