The Fall of Homelander

The "purification" operation in Times Square.

It had completely turned into a personal showcase for Homelander to vent his brutal desires.

The Vought International cameras packed across the surrounding buildings no longer seemed like tools for recording heroic feats, but eyes bearing witness to a live broadcast of horror.

"Ahhhhh!"

Homelander hovered above the ruined street, with burning car wreckage and charred corpses beneath his feet, and a small group of surviving civilians huddled in the corner, so terrified they did not even dare cry out. His blue combat suit was almost soaked through with dark stains, and the blood spattered across his face made his once handsome features look savage.

A live broadcast.

Getsuga Tensho.

Forget The Seven being dumbfounded—the staff running the livestream, and the audience watching it, who among them did not feel their vision go dark?

"Damn it! What is he doing!"

"Is now really the time for that kind of thing!"

"Move it! Move the camera away!"

Although the staff in charge of the livestream reacted quickly, heaven knew exactly how many people saw that scene. In fact, before the public could even recover from the thought of how the perfect Homelander could do something like that—

Homelander, having finished firing, once again broadened everyone's horizons—he might have had something seriously wrong with him. Afterward, instead of losing interest, he became even more excited.

Homelander's chest heaved violently, not from exhaustion, but from a near-orgasmic thrill of slaughter. Those blue eyes that had once symbolized "hope" and "strength"

now churned with ominous dark red.

"Not enough—it's still not enough!" he growled. His voice spread through the district through Vought International's speakers, carrying a grating rasp like metal scraping metal. "This scum! These cockroaches hiding in the shadows, stealing and robbing in the chaos, spreading fear!