Becca

Lucian's gaze moved slowly over the three options.

He could skip super strength LV3 outright.

Super physique already included an increase in strength. Super strength or super speed on their own were more like specialized supplementary skills that could stack with physique, but faced with LV4 physique, they were not a high priority.

The system's ability categories were clear. Super physique improved every aspect of physical fitness, including strength, speed, endurance, and defense. Super physique LV4 meant an enormous, comprehensive leap.

But super healing... A name surfaced in Lucian's mind: Wolverine.

Black Noir's age had always been a mystery, but judging by the era when he had been active, he was at least middle-aged or elderly. Yet the face beneath that mask looked like a thirty-year-old's.

Did healing abilities also mean slowing or even resisting aging?

He asked the system silently.

[Super healing LV3 can slow the process of cellular aging.]

Longevity.

The word circled in Lucian's heart with an irresistible allure.

It was the ultimate temptation. He wavered for a moment.

But soon, another figure appeared on his list of candidates. Kimiko. The girl with even stronger healing abilities. He had more than one opportunity.

He made his decision. "Select super physique LV4."

[Ability selected: super physique LV4]

[Estimated copying time: 6 hours]

[Copy progress: 0.01%...]

Lucian sat cross-legged, maintaining contact as he prepared for the long six hours ahead.

Just as the copying progress bar slowly ticked up to 13%, Black Noir suddenly gave a faint twitch on the ground.

The lid of his left eye trembled, then actually opened a sliver.

Had he regained consciousness?

Lucian paused.

Even with him putting his full effort into a hypnotic command, was the duration of LV3 mind control still drastically reduced against a strong-willed Supe like Black Noir, or were his animal friends helping?

Looks like I need to speed things up with Cate.

As for Godolkin... that guy's ability is more like possession. He can control bodies, but he doesn't seem able to read or alter thoughts. Still, the ability to increase mental strength through killing could serve as a trump card for taking over another body to stay alive.

These thoughts flashed through his mind.

Black Noir's eye moved with difficulty, as though he had yet to fully understand his situation.

Lucian raised his left hand, transformed it into a metal blade, and struck precisely at the bundle of nerves at the back of Black Noir's neck. After a dull thud, the eye that had only just regained a trace of clarity instantly lost focus, and Black Noir passed out completely.

Physical hypnosis. Simple and effective.

Lucian pressed his palm back against Black Noir's temple, and the system notification sounded again.

[Connection successful. Copying resumed.]

[Copy progress: 13.01%...]

Deathly silence returned to the cave, broken only by the unconscious Doppelganger's occasional sleep-mumbling and Black Noir's heavy yet faint breathing.

Meanwhile, on the ninety-first floor of Vought Tower in New York.

Madelyn Stillwell stood before the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the city lights below. But she was in no mood to appreciate them.

Both Doppelganger and Black Noir had gone out of contact.

One was an important strategic weapon; the other was the sharpest blade.

Madelyn picked up the phone on her desk and dialed the Crime Analysis Department's internal line directly.

"I want Black Noir's complete movement history. I want results within half an hour."

Her voice was calm, but her command allowed no argument.

After hanging up, she rubbed the space between her brows, an ominous premonition lingering in her heart.

Outside Madelyn's office, Homelander stared fixedly at a painting in the hallway.

Every word spoken inside Madelyn's office reached his ears clearly.

Black Noir's missing too?

He strode toward the Crime Analysis Department.

The entire department fell silent in fright when the employees saw him appear. Even the air seemed to freeze.

"I want Black Noir's last known movements."

The department head scrambled to the main computer, pulled up the data, and displayed a set of coordinates on the main screen with trembling hands.

"His... his last signal was in this area, sir."

Homelander glanced at the coordinates and turned to leave.

Just then, the phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated.

Once the call connected.

"Is... is this Mr. Homelander?" A man's nervous, fawning voice came through the phone. "I'm Mesmer. A-Train... A-Train is an old friend of mine. We used to be in the Teenage Alliance together."

Homelander remained expressionless and was about to crush the phone.

"I've learned some important information!" Mesmer shouted rapidly, afraid he would hang up. "A group of terrorists targeting Supes! I have all their information, and there's also a... a special test subject. A girl!"

Homelander stopped.

"I offer all of this to you as a gift. I... I ask for nothing else, just a... a job with a five-figure salary."

A few minutes later, at Mesmer's apartment.

Homelander hovered in the air, utterly bored, watching the sweating middle-aged man present a stack of documents as though offering up a treasure.

"It's them! I took pictures of them with the camera in the door lock!"

Mesmer opened the documents, revealing one photograph after another.

A man with a buzz cut, a scrawny kid, a burly Black man...

Homelander's gaze swept over those faces without lingering. Just a bunch of ants, not worth half a second of his time.

"And her!" Mesmer pointed to another photograph, showing an Asian girl with a vicious look in her eyes. "She's the test subject. I read her memories. She..."

Mesmer stopped short.

Because he saw Homelander's expression change.

Homelander's expression had darkened the moment he saw Butcher's photograph.

Butcher...

That name. That face.

A memory he had all but forgotten instantly became clear.

Becca.

That woman's terrified face, and her husband's name... William. Billy Butcher.

So he's still alive.

And he's going after The Seven, going after me?

The air in the apartment instantly grew tense.

Mesmer felt as though an invisible hand had closed around his throat, making even breathing difficult. Watching the bottomless gloom on Homelander's face, he felt cold sweat soak his back.

"Mr... Mr. Homelander?" he asked shakily. "Are you... satisfied with this information? About that five-figure job..."

Homelander did not answer.

He did not even glance at Mesmer again.

The request for a job, along with Mesmer himself, had already been erased completely from his mind.

He slowly turned to face the window.

Why would Butcher reappear after all these years and seek revenge against me?

If he really wanted revenge, why not that day? That year? Why now, seven or eight years later?

The next second, he shot into the sky without the slightest warning.

He was not going to track down Black Noir.

He was going back to investigate Becca's file.

To get to the bottom of it.