He raised his arm in a precise block, bracing his forearm firmly against Homelander's fist and easily dissipating most of its force. With a turn of his wrist, he deftly deflected the brute-force punch.
Then he drove through his waist, delivering another fierce, precise punch to the exact same spot on Homelander's abdomen.
The successive heavy blows made Homelander's body tremble slightly, even catching his breath for a moment.
Solomon lowered his hands and stood still. His tone was level, but every word cut deep.
"Your brute strength is certainly lethal against ordinary people and low-level Supes far weaker than you. But against an opponent on your level, it's far too ordinary, far too repetitive. From start to finish, your fighting consists of punching, then punching again. No technique, no footwork, no transitions between offense and defense. You rely entirely on your natural gifts. To be honest, if you couldn't fly and didn't have Laser Eyes as your two trump cards, you probably couldn't even beat Maeve at full strength with that utterly crude hand-to-hand fighting."
That blunt assessment laid his shortcomings completely bare.
Homelander's brow remained tightly furrowed, as it had been since their fight began. His arrogance refused to accept that fact. He snapped in a low, cold voice filled with conceit:
"Impossible. If I wanted to kill Maeve, I could do it anytime. Easily."
Solomon shook his head slightly, a trace of helplessness crossing his eyes.
That was Homelander for you: stubborn and conceited, refusing to give up until reality hit him in the face, refusing to shed a tear until all hope was gone. He always lived within his own understanding of the world, unwilling to face his flaws.
"Then let me tell you a fact you can't deny."
Solomon's gaze grew heavy, his tone suddenly