It was no exaggeration to say that controlling hundreds of thousands of superhumans meant wielding power so immense it could shake the entire world.
Even members of Congress coveted this throne—so how could anyone else remain indifferent?
If a single seat could be secured, then even burning through an entire fortune would be worth it.
Naturally, the major shareholders of Vought were eager to join the competition.
They were also—very politely—kicked out.
The reason was simple.
Vought already controlled a significant portion of the Superhero Council through its heroes. If it were allowed to compete for the seven civilian seats as well, the council would effectively become Vought's private assembly.
No other faction could tolerate that.
So, Vought was excluded without hesitation.
Strangely enough, Vought showed no particular dissatisfaction.
After all, they already held the advantage.
With their vast stable of superheroes, securing the seven hero seats—or even four or five of them—was trivial.
Even if those heroes were little more than mascots, they were more than enough to keep Vought wealthy and satisfied.
After months of brutal competition, scheming, and bloodless warfare, the battle finally came to an end.
The seven precious civilian seats were carved up like ripe fruit by the various factions.
Congress, leveraging its institutional strength, firmly secured three seats, making it one of the biggest winners.
Major labor unions and guild organizations banded together and claimed one seat, relying on their enormous voting blocs and social influence.
A minority ethnic alliance—the Posilians—jointly seized another seat through their unique advantages.
After all, they controlled more than half of America's liquid wealth, giving them a political weight few could ignore.
But the greatest shock came last.
The final two seats were taken by two completely unknown Anglo-Saxons.
Dark horses.
Before this, they had barely appeared in public life, let alone held any recognizable reputation.
The result stunned everyone.
And yet—
No one objected.
Not a single voice was raised.
Because those two men shared one crucial identity:
They were pure-blood Anglo-Saxons—the same lineage as Sebastian's mother.
Exiles who had once crossed the ocean.
Pioneers who had stepped onto the New World first.
Conquerors who had seized the continent through force and blood.
These people had not only survived history—they had written it.
They were the architects of the American Empire.
From the moment the nation was founded, they had recognized its potential and claimed its earliest, richest dividends. Over generations, they had embedded themselves into every layer of society.
Finance. Politics. Industry. Media.
An invisible web wrapped tightly around the entire nation.
Yet even these shadowed giants could not resist the temptation of the Superhero Council.
Faced with such an unprecedented concentration of power, they finally stepped out from behind the curtain and onto center stage.
With the civilian seats decided, the heroes quickly took their places.
At first, they were full of excitement—imagining authority, influence, and prestige.
Reality struck almost immediately.
They had no real power.
Every decision, every vote, every "choice" they made was dictated by the companies behind them.
The superheroes were furious.
Humiliated.
But powerless.
Because the moment they signed their contracts, everything had already been decided.
Breaking those agreements meant facing astronomical compensation claims.
In the past, they might have relied on brute force to rebel.
But not now.
With the Superhero Council established, the corporations had already handed over shares and leverage to Sebastian and Homelander as insurance.
Anyone who dared make trouble would be crushed instantly.
With two living gods standing behind the system, resistance was meaningless.
Everything was ready.
Only one final matter remained unresolved.
The Speaker and Deputy Speaker.
Strangely, neither Sebastian nor Homelander had expressed any interest—nor recommended anyone else.
The council was stuck.
As hours passed, anxiety spread among the legislators.
Finally, those who could no longer endure the uncertainty made a decision.
They put down their work.
And headed straight to the barbecue venue.
The two most powerful beings on the planet were there—
relaxed, casual, eating grilled meat like ordinary people.
Sebastian gestured lazily at the barbecue rack.
"The Speaker," he said indifferently, "is like this barbecue."
"It can be left to the people to choose."
"John and I are like the sun and the moon."
"One of us serves for four years—no, make it ten. Then we rotate."
The congressmen froze.
"…This—"
Their faces twisted.
They knew exactly what "public elections" meant.
Votes were nothing more than toys manipulated by corporations and unions.
Before anyone could speak—
Sebastian turned his head, grinning.
"John," he said cheerfully, "dare to compete?"
"Let's see who gets more votes."
"Ten million."
He ignored the pale, speechless lawmakers beside him.
And openly challenged Homelander.
The fire crackled.
The meat sizzled.
And a new round of chaos quietly began.
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