The Boys

[Dear Navigator, you have arrived in a new world]

[Stay duration: Ten days]

This book is first published on t w k a n . c o m

[Do you wish to anchor this world?]

[Anchoring this world requires 1000 units of Source Power]

[Remaining Source Power: 0 units]

[Remaining Energy: 0.1 units]

[Please replenish your Energy in a timely manner...]

The "Navigator System"'s warning forced Alvin to consider replenishing his Energy as soon as possible.

"Ten days is a bit too short," he habitually pinched the bridge of his nose and raised his wrist to look at the "Navigator System." "What is Source Power? What does anchoring mean? Also, if I replenish Energy, can I extend the stay duration?"

[Source Power: Exists in beings that are noticed by the world's origin; their decisions mostly influence the world's direction]

[Anchor World: After fixing an Anchor Point in a world, the Navigator can return to the Anchor World at any time. Staying does not consume Energy. If carrying multiple people or items, additional Energy consumption is required]

[Dear Navigator, please replenish your Energy in a timely manner. Every 10 units of Energy can extend your stay in this world by 1 day]

Listening to the "Navigator System"'s explanation, Alvin's furrowed brow relaxed.

Source Power, according to the "Navigator," should refer to the protagonists, important supporting characters, and villains in story worlds.

As for the specific method of obtaining it, he would need to explore that slowly; there was no rush.

You have to eat one bite at a time, and do things one by one.

Alvin pinched the bridge of his nose. "As expected, the biggest problem now is to replenish Energy as quickly as possible."

He was accustomed to organizing things and then dealing with them according to their urgency, a valuable skill he'd accumulated from slacking off at his previous job.

After a simple mental review, Alvin roughly outlined his next course of action.

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

Only with ample time could he proceed with his subsequent plans, or rather, meticulously plan for what he wanted according to the story's progression.

Although he had forgotten most of the plot, Alvin still remembered the general key directions very clearly.

The Boys was an anti-Superhero themed story.

The main mastermind in the show, Vought International, was ostensibly a pharmaceutical company whose primary business was managing and operating hundreds of Superheroes under its banner.

In this world, Superheroes were no longer special cases but a highly sought-after profession.

Many people awakened superpowers at birth.

The types of superpowers were incredibly diverse, and the show even featured mind-blowing, incredible abilities.

Here, Alvin couldn't help but admire America's sexual freedom, which broke through human limits in some ways. It was comparable to the Ling Clan; he was ecstatic about the lustful indulgence.

Returning to the main topic.

Those with superpowers underwent layers of selection and eventually became members of Vought.

Like celebrities who were heavily packaged, beautified, and promoted, adorned with elaborate personas, they performed for the public, helping Vought earn money.

But the truth was that Vought possessed a drug called Compound V, which could stimulate latent superpowers in humans.

To monopolize more influence, Vought secretly injected this Compound V into infants nationwide, thus fabricating a large number of "naturally born" superhumans.

The so-called Superheroes were actually artificial products!

Of course, Alvin didn't care whether Superheroes were artificial or not; he only cared about the "Compound V" in the show!

"I must find a way to get Compound V."

Alvin clenched his fist in secret. He was determined to obtain Compound V!

Injecting Compound V had many side effects, but as a scavenger from the lower levels, he had no choice from the beginning!

Never overestimate the bottom line of scumbags, and never hold out hope for them.

Because he knew very well that scumbags had no such thing as a "bottom line"; they would only act like carrion vultures, perched on your corpse to suck your marrow.

Until they had squeezed out the last bit of value, then they would butcher you like livestock, sever your head, and use it as a warning to other scavengers.

Alvin didn't want to die meaninglessly, without any dignity, like trash, forgotten and left to rot.

Compound V was an opportunity!

He had to seize this opportunity and firmly grasp his destiny in his own hands!

"The Boys, here I come!"

Alvin was full of confidence, striding forward, and stepped out of the alley.

Excellent!

A beautiful future was beckoning him!

This step, though a small step for him personally, was a giant leap for the entire Warhammer universe!

However, just as he stepped out of the alley, something hard pressed against Alvin's waist from behind.

Judging by the feel, it was a gun.

Thank goodness it wasn't something else. Alvin let out a sigh of relief for reasons unknown.

He hadn't expected to encounter America's traditional culture so soon after arriving; he was quite lucky, really.

"Stop right there, kid. Don't move if you don't want to die!"

The person holding the gun to his lower back was clearly agitated, growling in a hoarse voice, "Hand over everything valuable you have!"

A robbery?!

Alvin was utterly speechless. Did he look like someone with money?

A scavenger from the lower district, besides this tattered excuse for clothes, the most valuable thing he possessed was probably his face.

His facial features were well-defined, his brows and eyes delicate, his nose straight. Although he appeared somewhat pale due to long-term malnutrition, there was a sickly beauty to him.

If he were cleaned up, he would undoubtedly be considered a handsome youth.

While not as good-looking as you readers, he wouldn't be out of place in the male escort scene.

Who knew why a scavenger from the lower district would have such excellent looks? It could only be attributed to his mother, who died of illness when he was very young.

"Brother, do I look like someone with money?"

Alvin tugged at the corner of his mouth and said speechlessly.

The Black man then took a closer look at Alvin, who wasn't tall.

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

"Fuck, another poor bastard!"

The Black man seemed furious, but then suddenly fell silent, staring intently at Alvin's face.

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

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

The Black man's face was full of lewdness, and he then nudged the youth's waist with the barrel of the gun, chuckling, "Kid, you don't want to die, do you?"

Oh, damn it all.

Emperor, forgive this blasphemy!

But then he thought, This is America, so it's fine.

Alvin's face twitched. He suppressed his disgust but still feigned a weak demeanor, his voice slightly stiff, "Aren't you... aren't you afraid of the police?"

"Police? Hahahahaha!"

The Black man acted as if he'd heard a great joke, becoming even more reckless and arrogant. "Kid, the police won't care about this kind of thing, and there's no surveillance here, you understand?"

No police? No surveillance?

Oh, well then, all that effort was for nothing.