Although Sebastian already possessed the ability to secretly construct a cyber dimension through brain–computer interfaces—pulling the entire world into a real-time network under his control—he had never been someone blinded by short-term profits.
He believed firmly in one principle:
A new generation of products should only be released after the commercial value of the current generation has been fully squeezed dry.
Wealth had to be accumulated steadily.
If all high-quality resources were poured out at once, what would be left to sell later? How could profits continue to grow?
That was why Sebastian was perfectly content to roll out technology step by step.
The moment Sebastian's first-generation smart phone, personally endorsed by the Captain, hit the market, it triggered a nationwide frenzy.
In an era where the average annual income was around $24,300, a price tag of $988 was far from trivial—but it was still less than half a month's salary for anyone with a stable job.
More importantly, compared to existing phones that weighed over half a kilogram and cost several thousand dollars, Sebastian's phone was:
SmallerLighterMore refinedFar cheaper
It was, quite literally, industry conscience incarnate.
Coupled with the overwhelming celebrity effect of the Captain, the phone sold out on the first day.
Months of inventory vanished overnight.
Supply collapsed instantly.
Xiao Family Industrial Park had no choice but to expand production urgently, activating multiple new assembly lines to keep up with the tidal wave of orders.
Meanwhile, every other phone manufacturer in the country was struck dumb.
Their own projects—still two years away from market—had just been rendered obsolete.
In business, one step behind meant every step behind.
Thanks to first-mover advantage alone, Sebastian's brand seized nearly 80% of the U.S. market in a matter of weeks, crushing competitors so thoroughly that their products became unsellable.
And the most terrifying part?
The price.
$988.
How could anyone compete when both quality and price were unbeatable?
For a time, R&D departments across the world fell into collective despair.
Transform—or die.
But no matter what they chose, nothing could stop the Sebastian family from advancing.
From that day on, any technology involving electronic devices—phones, computers, communication terminals—fell under the Sebastian family's shadow.
Anyone who wanted a seat at the table had to ask permission first.
Sebastian was determined to rebuild a corporate colossus in this world—
an aircraft carrier of capital that would dominate the globe.
While Sebastian's commercial empire surged forward, the Superhero Council also entered a period of explosive growth.
More and more superhumans registered as official superheroes, drawn by stable income and legal protection.
The Council's power expanded like a rolling snowball.
It became a fully loaded battleship—
ready to crush anything foolish enough to block its course.
Under its command, hundreds of thousands of registered heroes were deployed across the United States, scattered like stars.
The effects were immediate.
Crime plummeted.
Social order transformed.
In the past, people in remote regions were helpless—bullied by local thugs and gangs, extorted for "protection fees," with no authority to appeal to and no heroes willing to answer the call.
Now?
Everything changed.
If bullies showed up to extort money, villagers simply pooled a small sum and hired superheroes to break their legs.
Paying criminals only fed their greed.
Paying heroes solved the problem permanently.
Better yet, hiring heroes came with perks:
PhotosPostersHero cardsLimited merchandise
And if luck smiled upon you and you pulled a signed photo of the Captain or Homelander?
You could resell it for more than the mission fee itself.
The villagers weren't stupid.
The choice was obvious.
At the same time, Sebastian's philosophy of order over chaos became the dominant governing principle of the Superhero Council.
Heroes were required to restrain their power, minimizing casualties whenever possible.
Killing criminals was no longer encouraged.
Instead, the Council unveiled its most controversial—and profitable—innovation:
Hero Prison
A network of massive private prisons built specifically to detain criminals defeated by superheroes.
For each inmate, the U.S. government provided an administrative subsidy of $50 per day.
Each Hero Prison contained up to 200,000 beds.
Even at partial capacity, the system generated over $2 million in administrative income in its very first month.
But that was just the beginning.
Every prisoner was put to work.
Each one generated $150 per day producing materials and goods.
Do the math:
A single imprisoned criminal created nearly $200 of daily economic value.
$180 went to the Superhero Council for prison operations and guard salaries$10 was paid as a bounty to the hero who captured them$10 was allocated to "public welfare"
That was when the heroes finally understood:
Killing criminals was stupid.
Letting them live was far more valuable.
Alive, criminals worked.
Alive, they generated profit.
Alive, they sustained the system.
Justice had become efficient.
And for the first time—
Heroes realized that mercy, order, and profit
could exist in perfect alignment.
⭐ Enjoying the story?
You can read ahead and support the translations by joining my Patreon! Your support helps me update faster and take on more projects. Thank you for reading!
Read up to 50 chapters ahead!
patreon.com/AminaSims