I'm Not That Easy to Kill...

The smell of disinfectant, mingled with the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment, dragged Lynn out of his deep unconsciousness.

He struggled to open his eyes. The stark white ceiling of the medical room came into view.

His throat burned as if he had swallowed a handful of broken glass, and every breath sent a tearing sensation through his lungs.

"Awake? Don't move around. You inhaled highly concentrated acidic gas, and you also suffered minor internal trauma. If you weren't so lucky, you'd already be in line for the incinerator."

Dr. Sarah walked over with dark circles under her eyes, expertly checked the monitor beside Lynn's bed, then put a straw into a cup of warm water and held it to his lips.

Lynn greedily took two sips, finally bringing a little relief to his parched throat.

He turned his head and only then noticed a small figure sitting on a tall stool on the other side of the bed.

It was John.

The little boy was still wearing the T-shirt with a large hole burned through its chest by acid, his blond hair slightly disheveled.

Instead of playing with his Rubik's Cube or listening to his Walkman as usual, he clung tightly to the edge of the hospital bed with both hands. His blue eyes stared unblinkingly at Lynn, threaded with fine red veins.

At the sound of Lynn waking, John's eyes instantly lit up. But he didn't throw himself at him. He merely reached out a finger with great care and gently touched the back of Lynn's hand, where the IV was inserted.

"Lynn, you didn't die." The little boy's voice was somewhat hoarse, carrying the relief of having survived a disaster, along with a barely perceptible trace of lingering fear.

In John's understanding over the past six years, "death" had only been an abstract concept, a punishment that villains in books deserved.

But when that monster spewed poison gas and Lynn collapsed onto the couch, coughing up blood, he truly felt the fear called "loss" for the first time.

"I'm not that easy to kill..."

Lynn managed a weak smile and turned his hand to clasp John's slightly cold little one. "With our little champion protecting me, even the king of hell wouldn't dare take me."

Dr. Sarah rolled her eyes beside them, snorting as she recorded the readings. "Yes, our little champion. Do you have any idea what he's put us through these past two days? He stayed beside your bed without eating or drinking. If anyone dared come within two meters of you, his eyes started glowing red. Even Old Mike nearly got sliced by a blast of Heat Vision when he tried to come in and change your urine bag. The whole medical department has spent the past two days hugging the walls!"

Lynn froze for a moment, looking at John's stubborn little face.

"Lynn was sick. They were too noisy, and they were too weak to protect Lynn."

John answered as if he were entirely justified, then his tone became exceptionally firm. "From now on, no one gets near you except me."

Lynn's heart gave a sudden jolt.

Oh no. Wasn't this script heading in the wrong direction?

I'd meant to raise him into a sunny Superman who loved humanity and followed the rules. How had one assassination attempt sent this kid's protective instincts through the roof, putting him on the path toward obsessive attachment and extreme control?

"John, listen."

Lynn endured the pain in his chest, his tone turning serious. "The doctors were saving me. They're good people. Protecting your family starts with knowing who's an enemy and who's a friend. If you treat everyone as a potential threat, how are we any different from beasts locked in a cage?"

John frowned, seemingly struggling to digest Lynn's words.

Only after a long while did he reluctantly nod and drop his hostile, defensive posture.

Meanwhile, in the CEO's office on the hundredth floor aboveground.

Stan Edgar was watching the silent surveillance feed from the medical room on a large screen.

Onscreen, the boy regarded as the God of Earth obediently let Lynn hold his hand and lecture him.

"How are the repairs to that underground apartment progressing?" Edgar picked up his coffee cup and asked without turning around.

Standing behind him, Madelyn opened the folder in her hands. "Everything has been cleared out. They're installing a higher-grade blast-resistant layer and air filtration system. The remains of test subject No. 73 have also been fully disposed of. Public relations has prepared an internal incident report placing the blame on a hydraulic systems engineer who has already left the company."

"Excellent." Watching Lynn's face on the screen, Edgar's lips curved in satisfaction.

Although this "accident" he had personally orchestrated had cost him an advanced test subject and an apartment, the results left him immensely excited.

"Madelyn, do you see? This is the power of emotional bonds."

Edgar turned, his gaze deep. "This weapon is too powerful. So powerful that no physical restraints can hold him. We kept trying to control him through company rules and fear. That was all wrong. Lynn has given us the perfect answer."

"You mean..."

"Lynn is his fuse."

Edgar walked over to his desk and signed his name on a top-secret document. "As long as Lynn remains in our hands, as long as Lynn remains loyal to the company, that boy will willingly serve as Vought's patron deity. Even if the boy truly loses control one day, Lynn will be the only person who can stop him."

Madelyn nodded. "Then I'll raise Lynn's security level immediately. We can't let another accident like this happen."

"Not just his security. Give him status and privileges, too."

Edgar handed the document to Madelyn. "Promote Lynn directly to senior executive, with clearance second only to yours. Tell finance that the company will reimburse all of Lynn's expenses in full. I want him to feel that Vought International is his strongest support. As long as he can't leave Vought, the boy will belong to Vought forever."

Capitalists always calculated more shrewdly than anyone else.

Edgar didn't merely want a sharp blade. He wanted the hand wielding it firmly bound to his own war chariot.

One week later.

Lynn had more or less recovered.

Thanks to Vought International's medical technology, decades ahead of the rest of the world, not only had the toxins in his lungs been cleared, but even the internal trauma had healed completely.

When Lynn stood before the newly refurbished alloy door again, holding John's hand, both of them felt somewhat dazed.

The combination lock on the door had been replaced with a more advanced dual-authentication system using retinal scans and fingerprints.

He pushed open the door. The furnishings inside were even cozier and more luxurious than before.

Not only had the carpet been replaced with a top-quality handwoven Persian rug, but the living room even had the latest Nintendo Famicom.

"Wow. Looks like the big boss really spared no expense to appease us this time."

Lynn whistled and walked over to the refrigerator, finding it stuffed with all sorts of imported fruit and premium steaks.

John went straight to the couch and reached out, gently stroking the brand-new leather replacement for the one he had half melted.

"Lynn." John suddenly spoke without turning around.

"What is it?" Lynn walked over with two cans of cola.

"From now on, I won't let anything destroy our home again."

The little boy's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an almost oathlike weight. "And I won't hold back my power anymore."

Lynn's hand paused as he offered him the cola.

He walked in front of John, crouched, and looked straight into the boy's eyes, which were gradually losing their childish innocence.

"John, do you remember the 'rules' I told you about?"

"I remember. But you said that when rules can't protect your family, protecting your family is the highest rule."

John answered without hesitation, even with complete conviction.

"That's right. I haven't taken that back."

Lynn sighed. He knew the assassination attempt that day had completely changed John's worldview. He could no longer fob him off with the old rigid dogma of "don't kill."

He had to find a new outlet and constraints for this immense destructive power.

"But John, power is like the Heat Vision in your eyes. If you keep it turned all the way up at every moment, you won't just burn the bad guys to death. You'll burn the innocent people around them to ashes, even the people you want to protect."

Lynn pressed the cold can of cola against John's cheek to cool him down a little.

"True strength isn't being ready to destroy everything at any moment. It's precision. You need to be like a precision scalpel, knowing when to cut out a tumor and when to stitch a wound."

Lynn stood up and pointed at the television.

"Now, we need to learn not just right from wrong, but how this world really works. The world outside doesn't consist only of Vought International, or street thugs who know nothing but robbery. There are Outsiders with lineages going back centuries, secretive magicians, and all sorts of intricately intertwined factions."

Lynn's gaze became more serious than ever before.

"Starting tomorrow, your lessons are getting an upgrade. I'm going to make you not just a hero with invincible power, but a king who can see through every plot and scheme. You need to use your brain together with your power to establish your own true order of justice. Are you ready?"

John raised his head and looked at Lynn. A small yet dazzling flame kindled in his blue eyes.

He nodded firmly, his lips curling into a confident smile that belonged to the future Homelander.

"I'm ready, Lynn."