Big-Mouth Emperor: Worthless Trash

The soldier held the cigarette pack and laughed as he cursed at his comrade's corpse. Then he dropped to the ground, leaning his back against an overturned transport truck.

He opened the pack. Half the cigarettes remained, and more importantly, there was still a lighter inside.

He placed a cigarette between his lips, tilted his neck slightly forward, and pressed the lighter with his one remaining hand.

"Click."

The flame he had imagined did not appear.

"Click... click... click..."

Refusing to believe it, the soldier pressed it several more times in succession, but no flame appeared.

He gripped the lighter and vigorously shook his arm. After that, he tried to light it again.

He pressed it another dozen times, but the fire still refused to appear.

The soldier let out a sigh, tipped back his head, and allowed the drizzle to fall across his face as he closed his eyes with a complicated expression.

He had already accepted death, but he had never expected even a lighter to bully him.

Sigh, why was it so hard to have one last cigarette before dying?

After a long while, the pain and death he had expected never came. The soldier opened his eyes again.

Sparta, who had been standing before him, had vanished, while he was still alive.

Elsewhere, Sparta encountered the 100,000 reinforcements while flying.

A new round of slaughter began.

Inside the imperial palace.

"How could this happen! How could this happen?!"

"Fake! It had to be fake! I refuse to believe it!!"

Watching the footage transmitted by the satellites, the Big-Mouth Emperor smashed a priceless vase to pieces in rage.

A screen was split into a nine-panel grid, representing Sparta and eight others, including the recruits.

Yet no matter which feed he watched, all he saw was the Big Mouth army being slaughtered by Viltrumites.

Every Viltrumite was being besieged by hundreds of thousands of troops.

No matter what, hundreds of thousands of soldiers should have been able to hold them off for at least a while, right?

But the footage showed that hundreds of thousands of troops were nothing more than roadside ants before a single Viltrumite. Before long, they were utterly wiped out.

Were the Viltrumites too strong, or were they too weak?

"What should we do?! What the hell should we do?!"

The Big-Mouth Emperor angrily questioned his ministers.

The ministers lowered their heads and secretly exchanged glances. No one spoke.

What else could they do? Wait to die.

Naturally, the ministers were already filled with resentment.

If the Big-Mouth Emperor had not refused to surrender, would this have happened? Were the soldiers' lives not lives too?

The crucial part was that refusing to surrender would have been one thing, but he had even sent troops to fight them.

Was he insane?

"A bunch of worthless trash. I can't count on any of you."

"With a pack of incompetent fools like you around, my Big Mouth Empire will perish sooner or later."

The Big-Mouth Emperor's gaze shifted back and forth between the two screens.

Only Jayce appeared on the second screen.

The footage showed Jayce standing motionless atop a mountain, his eyes tightly shut and his arms folded across his chest.

He seemed to be resting with his eyes closed, wholly uninterested in the massacre.

"Wait, didn't I authorize the launch of nuclear weapons? Why isn't anyone using them?"

"Are we just going to let the Viltrumites slaughter us?"

The Big-Mouth Emperor seemed to be talking to himself, yet also seemed to be asking his ministers why they had not launched the nukes.

As expected, not a single minister responded.

The Big-Mouth Emperor's expression stiffened, though only for an instant.

"General, what do we do? The army can't stop him at all."

"Fuel-air explosives, high-explosive bombs, cluster missiles—we've used every weapon available except nuclear weapons."

The lieutenant general looked at the general seated at the head of the table, his face full of sorrow.

The general did not look much better. He truly had no idea how to resist such a powerful Viltrumite.

They had said they would peel a layer of skin off him, but now, forget peeling his skin—even a single hair on his head had not fallen out.

The general rubbed his throbbing brow and looked toward the second lieutenant general. "When will the reinforcements outside the city arrive?"

The lieutenant general reported truthfully, "General, approximately twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?! Of the 300,000 troops, less than half remain! Can half of them hold him for twenty minutes?!"

"Where are the fighter jets?! Where are the armed helicopters?! Where are the rapid-response units?!"

The general's brows shot up in fury as spit flew from his mouth.

If they had to wait another twenty minutes for reinforcements, the entire city would be finished by then.

What were reinforcements arriving in twenty minutes for? To collect everyone's bodies?

"They were deployed elsewhere. The only reinforcements available now are ground forces," the lieutenant general replied with a shake of his head.

"There are thousands of fighter jets around the world, and now you're telling me they've all been deployed elsewhere?!"

"Even if the fighter jets were divided evenly to deal with the Viltrumites, we should still have command over several hundred of them!"

"I've commanded only twenty fighter jets from beginning to end! Who sent the rest away? Whose order was that?!"

The general abruptly rose from his seat and slammed his palm against the table.

Everyone was working to deal with the Viltrumites, so why could they send the fighter jets elsewhere?

What about them? What were they supposed to do?

Without air support and harassment from the fighter jets, how was he supposed to stop the enemy for twenty minutes?

"This... this was an order from the capital."

The lieutenant general opened his mouth and revealed the information he knew.

"I... I..."

The general's face turned bright red. His blood rushed to his head, and his vision went dark.

He gripped the armrest of his chair, his chest heaving violently. He no longer wanted to say anything, because the lords in the capital were still lords.

Suppressing his anger, the general sat back down.

But before he could settle into his seat, a guard suddenly burst inside.

"Generals! Th-the enemy has found the command center!"

The moment those words were spoken, every general in the room sprang to his feet. "What?!"

Astonishment appeared on every general's face.

What command center? This was the command center. In other words, they had been discovered.

"Quick! Evacuate!"

The general was the first to react and immediately shouted.

But it was already too late. Gunfire erupted outside the command room.

Everyone knew he had arrived.

Sparta landed in the middle of the command center and began indiscriminately slaughtering the surrounding guards and combat personnel.

To capture bandits, capture their leader first. In a team fight, strike the backline.

He understood that well, which was why he had come.

In an instant, the field command center descended into chaos, with gunfire and screams ringing out without end.

Sparta strolled through the heart of the battlefield as artillery fire rained down on him.

Whenever he approached a guard, he kindly gave him a slap.

The force of the slap was light to him, but to the guards of Big Mouth Star, it was like being struck by a mountain.

Every time his palm came down, a guard's head exploded on the spot.

A tank got a kick.

An armored vehicle got a punch.

A guard got a slap.

Before long, the entire command center fell silent. There were no screams and no gunfire, only a nauseating stench of blood.

Sparta entered the command room and saw the generals of Big Mouth Star.

He gave the generals the same sunny smile as Homelander.

Of course, if one ignored the blood covering his body, it really was quite sunny.

"Good afternoon, everyone."