The Boys

[Welcome, Navigator. You have arrived in a new world.]

[Time remaining: ten days]

[Has been first published across the web by ]

[Would you like to anchor this world?]

[Anchoring this world requires 1,000 units of Source Power]

[Source Power remaining: 0 units]

[Energy remaining: 0.1 units]

[Please replenish your energy as soon as possible...]

The Navigator System's warning forced Alvin to consider how he could replenish his energy as soon as possible.

"Ten days is a bit too short." He habitually rubbed the bridge of his nose, then raised his wrist and looked at the Navigator System. "What is Source Power? And what does an anchor mean? Also, if I replenish my energy, can I extend my stay?"

[Source Power: Present in living beings whose actions attract the attention of a world's origin. Their decisions often affect the course of the world.]

[Anchor World: Once a world has been anchored, the Navigator can return to it at any time without consuming energy while staying there. Carrying additional people or items will require extra energy.]

[Welcome, Navigator. Please replenish your energy as soon as possible. Every 10 units of energy will let you stay in this world for one additional day.]

As he listened to the Navigator System's explanation, Alvin's tightly furrowed brow relaxed.

According to the Navigator's description, Source Power probably referred to the protagonists, important supporting characters, and villains in a story world.

As for how to obtain it, he would have to figure that out as he went. There was no need to rush.

A meal had to be eaten one bite at a time, and things had to be done one at a time.

Alvin rubbed the bridge of his nose. "As expected, the biggest problem right now is finding a way to replenish my energy as soon as possible."

He was used to writing down his tasks and tackling them according to urgency. It was an important habit he had picked up while slacking off at work in his previous life.

After quickly organizing his thoughts, Alvin roughly mapped out what he would do next.

First, he had to find a way to solve the energy problem so he could stay longer.

Only with enough time could he continue with his plans—or, rather, follow the story's progression and gradually scheme for the things he wanted.

He had forgotten most of the plot, but he still remembered the major turning points quite clearly.

The Boys was an anti-superhero story.

The biggest shadowy force behind the scenes was Vought International. On the surface, it was a pharmaceutical company whose main business was managing and operating hundreds of Superheroes under its banner.

In this world, Superheroes were no longer rare exceptions. Instead, it was a career that everyone coveted.

Many people awakened superpowers from birth.

There were all kinds of superpowers, and the show even featured some mind-boggling and astonishingly bizarre uses for them.

Here, Alvin couldn't help but admire America. Some of its sexual escapades had broken through the limits of humanity. They were practically as free as the Aeldari. Slaanesh would have been delighted.

Back to the point.

People with superpowers went through layer upon layer of selection before eventually becoming members of Vought Company.

Like celebrities, they were meticulously packaged, polished, and promoted. They performed for the public beneath a thick layer of carefully crafted personas, helping Vought Company rake in the cash.

But the truth was that Vought Company possessed a drug called Compound V, which could awaken the superhuman abilities latent in people.

To monopolize even more influence, Vought Company secretly injected Compound V into babies across the country, creating a large number of "naturally born" superhumans.

The so-called Superheroes were all artificially created!

Of course, Alvin didn't care whether Superheroes were manufactured. All he cared about was the Compound V in the show!

"I have to find a way to get my hands on Compound V."

Alvin clenched his fists. He was determined to get Compound V!

Injecting Compound V came with plenty of side effects, but as a scavenger from the Underhive, he had never had a choice to begin with!

Never overestimate the limits of scum, and never place your hopes in them.

He knew all too well that scum had no such thing as a "bottom line." They were like carrion-feeding vultures, picking at your corpse and sucking out the marrow.

They would squeeze out every last bit of value, then cut off his head like they were slaughtering livestock and use it as an example to frighten the other scavengers.

Alvin didn't want to die without purpose or dignity, forgotten like a piece of trash as he rotted away.

Compound V was an opportunity!

He had to seize it and hold his fate firmly in his own hands!

"The Boys, here I come!"

Full of confidence, Alvin strode out of the alley.

Good!

A bright future was waving at him!

This step might be a small one for him personally, but it was a giant leap for the entire Warhammer Universe!

However, just as he stepped out of the alley, something hard pressed against his lower back from behind.

From the feel of it, it was probably a gun.

Fortunately, it wasn't something else. Alvin inexplicably felt relieved.

He hadn't expected to run into America's traditional culture so soon after arriving. He really was in luck.

"Freeze, kid. If you don't want to die, don't move!"

The man pressing the gun against his back was clearly worked up. He rasped, "Hand over everything valuable on you!"

A-a mugging?!

Alvin was utterly speechless. Seriously, did he look like he had any money?

A scavenger from the Underhive had nothing but the clothes on his back, which were barely better than rags. The most valuable thing he owned was probably his face.

His features were well-defined, with delicate brows, clear eyes, and a straight nose. Though he was pale from long-term malnutrition, he had a sickly sort of beauty.

Once cleaned up, he would absolutely qualify as a handsome young man.

He might not be as good-looking as the dear readers, but he wouldn't look out of place among male models.

Heaven knew why a scavenger from the Underhive had such a fine appearance. Perhaps it was thanks to his mother, who had died of illness when he was very young.

"Brother, do I look like I have any money?" Alvin said helplessly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

The Black man finally took a good look at the short Alvin standing before him.

His clothes were so tattered that even a homeless person probably wouldn't want them. His hair was all stuck together, as if he hadn't washed it in years, and his body gave off a pungent, rotten stench.

"Fuck, another broke-ass!"

The Black man seemed furious. Then he suddenly fell silent, staring fixedly at Alvin's face.

Alvin could swear he had never seen such a sleazy, greasy look in his life. It was as if the man wanted to strip him naked.

"Heh heh. If you don't have anything, you can use your body to pay off the debt."

The Black man wore a lecherous grin. He nudged the boy's waist with the barrel of his gun and chuckled. "Kid, you don't want to die, do you?"

Oh, damn it.

By the Emperor Lord, what utter blasphemy!

But then he remembered he was in America, so it was fine.

Alvin's face twitched. He fought back his disgust but kept pretending to be weak, his voice stiff. "A-aren't you afraid of the police?"

"The police? Hahahahaha!"

The Black man acted as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world. He grew even more brazen and said arrogantly, "Kid, the police don't care about this sort of thing. And there are no cameras here. You understand?"

No police? No cameras?

Oh, then it was fine. All that acting for nothing.