The aftermath of this farce swept across the globe at an unprecedented speed via the internet and television signals.
"Century Scandal: FBI and Mysterious Organization Kill Each Other Before the Monster!"
"Government Failure! Who will protect us? The Vought Act may be the only hope!"
"Mysterious Swordsman: Who is he? Where did he come from? Humanity's new guardian deity, or a deeper nightmare?"
Washington D.C., inside the Senator's office.
"Bang—!"
An expensive antique vase was smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces.
Senator Robert Kelly had bloodshot eyes, like a Beast trapped in a cage, staring fixedly at the looping footage on the TV screen—the indifferent back of that man sheathing his sword.
And the terrified, bewildered faces of his Agents amidst the wreckage.
His political career had been declared dead the moment the live broadcast began.
He had painted himself as a dragon-slayer.
Yet, he proved to the whole World that he couldn't even touch the dragon's scales, and instead was nearly burned to death by the dragon's breath.
In the end, he had to rely on a "wild god" who appeared out of nowhere to save the day.
His office phone was ringing off the hook.
No longer support and cooperation, all of it turned into angry questioning and endless mockery.
He locked himself in his office, smashing everything he could.
Finally, he collapsed to the floor, his eyes hollow.
He had lost.
Lost to an opponent he didn't understand at all, lost to an era he couldn't grasp.
Vought Tower.
Lynn stood quietly in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the city that was restless with fear.
Motoko Kusanagi was reporting.
"Senator Robert Kelly has isolated himself, and his political allies have all cut ties with him within thirty minutes."
Motoko Kusanagi reported in a calm voice.
"The popularity of the discussion about the Mysterious Swordsman has surpassed the event itself, becoming the number one global hot topic."
Every piece of news, every headline, was adding bricks to Vought International's grand narrative.
However, Lynn was lost in thought.
He remembered the new achievement he had activated earlier.
[Twin Stars Shining]
[Condition: Simultaneously possess two superheroes with "City Hero" level popularity under your command]
[Comment: From fighting alone to having the prototype of a team, your hero business has already taken shape. You are no longer just selling a single idol, but starting to sell a brand combination called "Hope"]
[Reward: One draw opportunity]
Starlight, with her holy and perfect image, captured the recognition of mainstream values.
Vi, with her rebellious and wild iron fists, ignited the fire in the hearts of the younger generation.
Their popularity had finally reached a certain critical point in the script.
And the result of this draw...
Lynn cast his gaze at the blurry back on the newspaper.
That man wearing ronin attire, carrying a wine gourd.
The Unforgiven, Yasuo.
A perfect accident.
A variable that was not in the script, yet made the entire script even more brilliant.
Lynn's original plan was to have S.H.I.E.L.D. and the FBI expose the existence of a "HYDRA modified soldier" in this chaos.
Then have the Vought International hero team step forward to "struggle" to resolve it.
Thereby logically taking over everything.
Yasuo's appearance raised the scope of this play to countless levels.
He was not a national weapon like Soldier Boy or Human Torch.
He was not a perfect idol like Starlight.
He was not even a street rebel like Vi.
He was a ghost.
A powerful, free, "unaffiliated" superhuman unbound by any rules.
His existence sent a crystal-clear signal to the whole World.
In this World, there exists a terrifying power that even the government's most elite forces cannot handle, and which has not even been recorded on Vought International's hero list.
Fear is the best salesman.
"Motoko."
"Here, Boss."
"Initiate the second phase of public opinion guidance."
"Direct all reports about the "Mysterious Swordsman" toward keywords like ronin, lone wolf, and dangerous power unbound by constraints."
"We want to shape a myth, a powerful individual drifting outside of all systems."
Lynn picked up the black tea on the table, gently blowing away the steam.
"At the same time, have the Public Relations Department contact our spokesperson in Congress."
"Tomorrow morning, I want to see the expedited bill for the 'superhuman registration and management act' placed on every senator's desk."
"Yes, Boss."
Washington D.C., Capitol Hill.
The vote on the 'superhuman registration and management act' was proceeding at an unprecedented speed.
No debate.
No long-winded hearings.
The expressions on the senators' faces were a mixture of fear and the relief of being eager to hand over a hot potato.
That disastrous live broadcast in Illinois had left an indelible mark on the heart of every person in power.
The government's most elite forces were as fragile as a group of children holding wooden sticks in front of a real monster.
"Votes in favor, 323."
"Votes against, 82."
"Abstentions, 30."
In the corner, Senator Robert Kelly's seat was empty.
No one mentioned him.
The mantis arms crushed by the rolling wheels of history would not be remembered by anyone.
The 'superhuman registration and management act' was passed with thunderous momentum.
A brand new agency led by Vought International and authorized by Congress—the "Superhuman Affairs Registration and Management Bureau"—was officially established.
The Director was concurrently held by Vought International CEO Lynn Morris.
One month later.
New Mexico, a dilapidated bar by the desert highway.
Several burly truck drivers were surrounding a hot-bodied waitress, telling filthy jokes.
In the corner, a man wearing blue ronin attire was drinking cheap whiskey by himself.
He didn't care at all about the surrounding clamor.
Occasionally, he would look up at the yellow sand whipped up by the wind outside the window.
"Hey, kid, what are you looking at?"
A red-faced, drunken brute noticed the long sword at Yasuo's waist and walked over unsteadily.
"It's not popular to carry such toys out these days."
He reached out a big hand to grab the hilt of Yasuo's sword.
Yasuo did not look at him.
He just drank the last drop of wine in his cup.
The wind whipped up in the cramped bar without warning.
The brute's outstretched hand was pushed away by a gentle yet irresistible force.
He stumbled, knocking over the tables and chairs behind him.
Seeing this, the other truck drivers stood up swearing and pulled out folding knives hidden in their clothes.
Yasuo stood up.
He didn't draw his sword, instead lifting his hand to toss a coin into the air.
The coin tumbled in the air.
The sound of the wind suddenly became sharp.
"Ding."
The coin fell and was steadily caught by Yasuo.
He placed the coin on the bar counter as payment for the drink.
Then he walked straight out of the bar, his figure quickly disappearing into the wind and sand.
By the time people reacted, the folding knives in the hands of those truck drivers had turned into twisted metal.
Similar rumors began to circulate through various unofficial channels.
Some saw him in a Las Vegas casino, using wind to stop a gunfight triggered by cheating.
Some saw him on a rainy night in Seattle, saving a girl from a few gang members.
From start to finish, his sword never left its scabbard.
He never deliberately hid himself, nor did he make deep friendships with anyone.
He was like the wind, omnipresent yet untraceable.
A powerful, mysterious, superhuman individual uncontrolled by any organization.
He became the most perfect prey in the eyes of all ambitious people.
Peggy Carter looked at the summary of all eyewitness reports regarding the "Mysterious Swordsman" in her hands.
The disastrous defeat in Illinois had caused S.H.I.E.L.D.'s reputation to hit rock bottom.
She needed an opportunity, a powerful assistant, to prove the value of S.H.I.E.L.D. to the World again.
Yasuo was that opportunity.
"He has rejected us three times."
Barbara Minerva stood to the side, her tone grave.
"The first time, our people couldn't even get within ten meters of him."
"The second time, our Agent tried to negotiate with him in the name of national security, and he only replied with one sentence: 'My sword does not swing for any flag'."
"The third time, we sent our best psychological profiler to try and understand his motives... As a result, after that profiler returned, they submitted a resignation report, saying they had seen the void."
Peggy was somewhat distressed.
This man was harder to deal with than any enemy she had ever encountered.
Because he wanted for nothing.
Money, status, honor... these worldly shackles meant nothing to him.
On the other side.
Inside an ancient castle.
A high-ranking HYDRA cadre was kneeling on one knee, reporting to the shadow on the throne.
"Leader, the messenger we sent to contact the 'Windwalker' has failed."
"He rejected our invitation to establish a new World order, and... severed one of the messenger's arms as a warning."
From within the shadow, a cold snort came.
"A boor who does not understand the true meaning of power."
"Continue to monitor him. Since he cannot be used by me, then find a way to make him a problem for our enemies."
Not just S.H.I.E.L.D. and HYDRA.
The Military's secret weapons department.
Ancient aristocratic consortiums of Europe.
Even some small groups composed of newly emerged super-powered individuals born from the "S.O.M.S" crisis.
Countless olive branches extended from every corner of the World toward that lonely ronin.
Without exception, they were all broken.
Yasuo declared his stance to the whole World with his actions.
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