Gazing up at Herman, clad in black battle robes and suspended in the sky.
Reporter Lois, along with the countless viewers watching the live broadcast, all felt the crushing weight of his presence. An overwhelming sense of awe rose unbidden in their hearts.
For a moment, even the massive steel legion hanging overhead like dark storm clouds didn't seem so frightening.
The cameras caught every detail of Herman's movement.
With just a subtle raise of his hand and a faint forward motion, the missiles and bullets frozen mid-air—as if time itself had halted—suddenly reversed course. They shot back at terrifying speed, retracing their paths straight toward the war mechs that had fired them.
A direct missile hit.
Even alloy-forged mechs could do nothing but explode where they floated.
And the bullets—enhanced by Herman's Telekinesis—were no less deadly. Their force now exceeded that of Vulcan cannons and high-caliber machine guns.
Bullets no larger than a finger tore through armored shells as easily as tofu.
Damaged mechs sparked violently, arcs of electricity racing across their frames before they burst apart like fireworks only seconds later.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The sky thundered with an endless string of explosions, deafening as hundreds of mechs were torn to shreds by their own munitions.
Debris scattered like rain, chunks of twisted steel crashing to the earth.
Through smoke and fire, the glowing wreckage fell, no different than the U.S. fighter jets they had shot down moments before.
Against Herman's Telekinesis, even the strongest firepower, even the most advanced missiles… all of it seemed laughable.
The heavens bloomed with brilliant fireworks, more dazzling than before.
"What power! What impossible strength!"
"Firepower that could level a city, and he just sent it right back at them! Homelander is stronger than we ever imagined!"
"What kind of power is that? We may never know!"
"But we all saw it! We saw Homelander's heroic presence, here in reality! This is the message he shared in his autobiography! My God… he's as mighty as a god walking among us!"
"The God Among Men—Homelander!"
Lois's voice rang out, trembling with excitement, her eyes alight with fervent worship.
New Yorkers glued to the broadcast were no less shaken. Good God—those terrifying mechs were wiped out so easily?
It was true.
Just as the reporter said.
The Boys had to be Homelander's autobiography.
The real Homelander was just as unstoppable as the one on TV.
Lois's voice grew even more impassioned as she shouted into the camera.
"As you can all see! These mechs—no one knows where they came from! They're slaughtering our citizens, destroying our land! And it's Homelander who stood up to protect us!"
"Yes, maybe he has his flaws! But I believe the twisted persona he portrays in his autobiography is nothing more than exaggerated self-mockery of his shortcomings!"
"He just wanted us to know he isn't perfect. And it's true—no one is! The courage to tear himself down like that puts him above most others!"
"He is a real superhero, one worthy of our respect!"
It was blatantly biased commentary.
But Lois made no effort to hide her worship of Herman.
At the same time, she tore down another.
"This is still Tony Stark's mansion! But tell me—where is Iron Man, the man who always brags about being a hero?"
"He couldn't even protect his own home! He couldn't save the guests at his own party! What good is a spoiled rich kid in a metal suit?"
"He doesn't deserve to be called a hero!"
Lois's voice trembled with passion and indignation. And her words carried weight, striking a chord with viewers everywhere.
Indeed.
At a time like this—
Where was Iron Man?
...
High above the battlefield.
Hundreds of war mechs had been destroyed, yet for Whiplash's Iron Legion, the loss was negligible.
"Mutant? Or just another genetically modified freak with special abilities?"
From within his colossal mech, Whiplash surged to the front of the steel tide, flanked by a swarm of machines.
"You guess?"
Herman narrowed his eyes at the towering mech, more than ten times his own size. A slight frown creased his brow as he realized his psychic powers couldn't reach Whiplash inside.
His gaze lingered on the mech's construction—the hardened alloy shell was nothing unusual. But around the translucent cockpit in the head, a faint silver-white material coated the frame. Perhaps that substance was blocking his psychic control?
It was only a guess.
He couldn't be sure. But if S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could wear gear that blocked mind-reading, it wasn't impossible others had developed similar "anti-intrusion" tech. The Marvel world was full of such things—Magneto's helmet against Professor Charles being the classic example.
"No matter who you are, I'd advise you not to stand against me. My only target is Stark, and those who support that disgusting man."
Whiplash's voice oozed contempt from within the mech. Surrounded by his steel army, his arrogance swelled until he believed he could conquer the entire United States.
"I can't let you kill my employee. He still owes me money, service, and a favor fixing a friend's spaceship."
There was no chance Herman would allow Whiplash to kill Tony Stark. Especially now—appearing far earlier than expected, Whiplash might easily overwhelm a Stark who hadn't yet perfected his new element.
"And who do you think you are? Think you can stop me?" Whiplash's hoarse voice dripped disdain.
"Where I come from, mutants or so-called superhumans are nothing but lab rats. Sewer rats."
His contempt was real—clearly, he'd seen many extraordinary humans before.
"Sewers? From what I hear, your living conditions weren't much better." Herman shot back without hesitation.
The sarcasm cut deep. Whiplash's life in Russia had been miserable, his home little better than a junkyard. He'd been at the bottom of society, surviving only thanks to his skill and craft. Without them, he likely would have starved long ago.
"You sharp-tongued brat! What do you know! That's all because of the Stark family's thief! Howard Stark stole the glory that should have belonged to my father!"
The words struck his rawest nerve.
Whiplash roared in fury at Herman.
"Everything Stark has should have been mine!" From the mech's back, Whiplash drew two massive iron rods, clutched tightly in his hands.
Then, just as suddenly, he calmed.
"I don't have time for useless chatter. Killing you would be simple. Don't think a few tricks make you invincible."
"You won't stop me from taking revenge on Tony Stark. You're no match for my legion, no matter how strange your abilities are."
"Of course, I admit—killing you might cost me some troops. That's the only reason I'm wasting words on you now."
His tone shifted again, suddenly mock-merciful, the instability of a madman clear.
"Walk away, and you'll live. I'll even forgive what you just did."
He spoke as though granting a favor from on high.
"Sorry, but I'm stubborn like that. Besides, even if you let me go, I have no intention of letting you walk away."
Herman had no patience for Whiplash's arrogance.
"Heh… foolish choice. You're wasting my time."
Whiplash grinned cruelly.
With a violent swing of his rod, two chains shot out, morphing into twin pitch-black whips.
Herman wasn't surprised. Those whips were where Whiplash got his name—only now, they were wielded by a mech. An upgraded version, perhaps.
Herman watched in silence as Whiplash activated a reactor. Electricity arced wildly along the whips, the charge strong enough to kill an elephant in an instant.
The mech thundered forward, iron whips sparking as they cracked through the air.
"So, you're Stark's friend? Then you can die with him! At my own hands! You should feel honored!"
The electrified whips lashed toward Herman with furious speed—fast as lightning, to ordinary eyes.
But to Herman?
They moved far too slowly.
He could have dodged effortlessly, but he didn't move at all.
That stillness convinced Whiplash he'd frightened Herman senseless.
"Hahahaha! Pay the price for your choice!" Whiplash roared with manic laughter. But just as his electrified whips were about to strike Herman…
Suddenly…
The whips froze less than ten centimeters from him, the crackling arcs of electricity stopping barely a breath from his face.
But that single centimeter might as well have been an unbreakable wall.
"Make me pay? With these toys of yours?"
Herman didn't even move.
And then—
The two whips sparking with electricity began to unravel, disintegrating into nothing. His Telekinesis wasn't limited to moving objects.
It could tear apart matter at its very foundation.
"Damn it!"
Whiplash hadn't expected his weapons to be dismantled like this. He immediately discarded the iron rods connected to them and retreated at full speed.
Herman made no move to stop his cowardly withdrawal.
"If you want to kill me, your strength alone won't be nearly enough."
Clad in his black battle robe, Herman's calm expression made even Whiplash's heart pound uneasily.
But the thought of his steel army swelling behind him quickly restored Whiplash's confidence.
"Your power is strange, but mutant or superhuman, it doesn't matter. You still have to obey the laws of physics."
He wasn't without knowledge, after all.
"Controlling matter? Breaking down matter? Impressive, yes—but I'm certain there's a limit to how much you can handle."
Whiplash wasn't just a brute. He was a brilliant engineer. From within his colossal mech, he grinned, convinced he had figured Herman out.
"You're welcome to try."
Herman smiled, dazzling and confident.
"You think I won't dare?"
Whiplash sneered, defiant. He slammed commands into his console, and the surrounding mechs immediately scattered, locking onto Herman from every direction.
Thousands of war mechs swarmed in, sealing him inside their circle. Above, the sky darkened with the sheer mass of steel.
From afar, reporter Lois's camera could no longer even capture Herman's figure—only endless, cold, menacing mechs.
"Don't underestimate the power of technology. Before my Iron Legion, no matter how strong you are, you're just a speck."
Whiplash's voice dripped with scorn.
Then—
Clatter after clatter echoed across the sky as massive machine guns extended from the backs of the mechs. Black muzzles locked onto Herman.
Whiplash was certain this time. He had seen superhumans before. However powerful, they all had limits.
The combined firepower of thousands of cannons could tear apart even the strongest fortress. And on top of that, shoulder-mounted missile launchers were already primed.
A human?
No human could withstand this.
"Fire!"
At his command, the sky lit up.
Thousands of flashes erupted in unison.
Deafening. Blinding.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The endless roar of gunfire left no pause. In just one second, hundreds of thousands of bullets screamed through the air, tearing toward Herman at impossible speeds.
A storm of bullets.
Interlaced with a hail of missiles.
The barrage poured across the sky, forming a curtain of destruction so dense it blotted out the sun.
From the ground, reporters and viewers gasped in shock.
This was war, forged of iron and fire. No one doubted that even a skyscraper would be erased in an instant by such firepower.
"Of course I have limits…" Herman didn't dodge. He simply raised his head, and power burst forth through his eyes.
"But you're nowhere close to seeing them."
His psychic force surged outward, so immense it twisted the very space around him, forming a field that spanned several kilometers.
Like a nuclear detonation, his psychic energy boiled through the sky, rippling outward in violent waves.
The bullets and missiles caught in its sweep were obliterated, shredded into dust.
Yes—dust.
Herman couldn't control every projectile individually, but the sheer eruption of his Telekinesis annihilated everything within range.
The invisible ripples spread outward.
War mechs by the thousands disintegrated into ash.
Had Whiplash not pulled back with his escort mechs at the last second, he too would have been annihilated in the blast.
"I've never unleashed this power so freely before!"
A rush of exhilaration surged through Herman.
Around him, a vacuum formed once again. The war mechs reduced to dust hadn't even had time to explode.
"This… this is impossible!"
Whiplash had retreated several kilometers just to barely save himself. His face twisted with disbelief.
A mere human! How could it unleash such overwhelming energy?!
It defied every law of science.
"Your understanding of insignificance… is far too shallow."
Herman's voice suddenly echoed above him.
"What—!?" Whiplash jerked his head upward, horrified, to see Herman floating high above, looking down on him with cold disdain.
"Be grateful…"
Herman raised his arm, power bursting forth like the weight of the heavens crashing down.
"Because I'm about to show you the meaning of true insignificance."