"Rumble!"
Without warning, amid flashes of lightning and peals of thunder, a deafening boom sounded, and the base hidden deep underground was suddenly exposed beneath the moonlight.
The bright moonlight outside filtered through the deep tunnel, illuminating the base's cold steel.
"Fuck, who the hell was that?"
King of Bad Jobs sat in the middle of the base. Feeling the violent shaking, his temper flared in an instant.
For the past few days, he'd been holding back his urge to cause trouble so he could work on the Infinite Protagonist Project.
He'd even stopped playing realistic murder-mystery games where he could show off and humiliate ordinary people, like "The Divine Doctor Comes Down the Mountain" or "Beautiful Bodyguard."
He'd been so well-behaved, and trouble had still come looking for him. Was there any justice in this world?
Seething with rage, he shifted shape the next moment, transforming into an eighteen-year-old boy in a tight golden-yellow suit, a red cape draped over his shoulders, and a huge F emblazoned across his chest.
If Fang Can had been there, he would have recognized the guy at a glance: [Fuck you Superman].
That was King of Bad Jobs's ability: by cosplaying someone else, he could borrow their superpower.
The stronger the superpowered person, the smaller the proportion of their power he could borrow. Even at most, he could only get fifty percent of the cosplayed superpowered person's strength.
And why was it called borrowing strength?
At that moment, F-Superman, who was throwing a huge party in A City, staggered as he felt at least forty percent of his strength drain away. A sense of emptiness rose in his heart.
"I'll fucking kill you, King of Bad Jobs! You're forcing me to lend you my strength again!"
In a fit of extreme rage, F-Superman