As Homelander In Multiverse

The circus clown materialized from thin air, his signature grin nowhere to be found. Moments ago, he had crafted an illusion, hoping to divert Homelander's attention just long enough to inject himself with the Sacred Blood granted by the Council.

As a Council member, Brad's dose wasn't just the ordinary formula.

This improved version not only preserved mental clarity but also held the power to transform regular people into superhumans. For someone like him, who was already enhanced, the effects would be explosive.

But his illusion had barely lasted a second before Homelander saw right through it.

"Still…" Brad thought, "he touched me. That's all I needed."

"With him marked, he's as good as dead."

He pulled out a remote and pressed the button.

---

Elsewhere...

Homelander scanned the area, locking onto Brad and Fat King. His eyes burned bright gold, and two searing beams shot toward them.

Fat King reacted immediately, his jaw stretching wide to reveal a swirling vortex of otherworldly energy. The beams vanished into the void without leaving a trace.

Interdimensional Projection.

While not an offensive ability, it rendered energy attacks useless. The beams were sent directly into another dimension instead of being stored within Fat King's body, meaning there was no risk of overload.

Homelander clicked his tongue in frustration. With a burst of speed, he lunged toward Brad.

Suddenly, the faint whistling of an incoming missile pierced the air.

He looked up and spotted a black dot streaking toward him—a missile, closing in fast.

Brad's Perfect Hit must've marked me, Homelander thought grimly.

He didn't hesitate. With a powerful burst of speed, he shot upward, leaving a shockwave behind. As he ascended, he opened his commlink.

"Angelina, if you're still breathing, keep those two occupied. Don't kill them—just stall them."

He didn't want Angelina going for the kill, partly because she might not be able to handle Brad, but mostly because of the mission's requirements. Killing a primary target indirectly could risk losing rewards or, worse, cause the mission to fail.

---

In the streets below, Angelina tore another night thrall in half, her glowing red eyes filled with savage delight. She was growing more comfortable with violence, the thrill of it coursing through her veins.

Upon hearing Homelander's command, the red glow in her eyes dimmed slightly.

"Yes, Master," she replied softly, licking the blood off her claws.

As Homelander disappeared into the sky, Brad gritted his teeth. "We need to move now! That thermobaric bomb won't be enough to kill him."

"Damn it, we miscalculated. That lunatic doesn't care about his reputation at all!"

As Homelander had suspected, Brad had launched the missile himself. The moment he marked Homelander, the missile became a guaranteed hit, thanks to his Perfect Hit ability.

Now, with Homelander trying to redirect or detonate the missile, it was their only chance to escape.

Brad cursed inwardly. I only had the resources for one bomb. If this fails, I've got nothing left.

But just as he turned to run, something flickered at the edge of his vision.

He spun around—only to see Fat King sprawled on the ground, his leg twisted grotesquely, bone jutting from the wound.

"My leg!" Fat King whimpered, clutching his shattered limb. Blood seeped through his fingers, pooling beneath him.

Standing over him was Angelina, her black leather outfit stained with blood. Her glowing red eyes bore into Brad, and her lips curled to reveal razor-sharp fangs.

Brad's stomach dropped. She looks just like a thrall… but stronger.

Before he could process what was happening, she lunged at him, claws extended.

Her speed was terrifying.

Rip!

Her claws sliced through Brad's body—only for him to dissolve into a cloud of soap bubbles.

Angelina growled in frustration, her vision obscured by the floating bubbles.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Gunshots rang out, shattering the bubbles as bullets punched into Angelina's chest. Blood sprayed from the wounds, but she didn't even flinch.

Brad emptied his magazine, then turned and bolted without a second glance.

---

Above, a deafening boom echoed as the missile detonated.

A fiery explosion ripped through the clouds, lighting up the sky with an inferno.

On the ground, the shockwave knocked Brad off his feet, sending him tumbling through the dirt.

He scrambled to his knees, only to see Angelina rising from the dust, her wounds already closing as she stalked toward him.

In a panic, Brad's eyes shimmered with iridescent light—another illusion.

Angelina's focus shifted, and she darted in the wrong direction, chasing a phantom.

Brad exhaled in relief and got to his feet, preparing to flee.

But then he felt it—a sudden, unbearable heat.

Looking up, he saw two golden beams of light streaking toward him. At the last second, they curved mid-air, redirecting toward Fat King.

At the same time, Angelina caught up to Brad's illusion, swiping at it—only for the image to dissolve into thin air.

She snarled in frustration, turning back just in time to see Fat King swallow Homelander's heat beams once again.

Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the battlefield. A streak of blue cut through the air, landing right in front of Brad.

---

Hovering just above the ground, Homelander looked down at Brad, a mocking smile tugging at his lips.

During his ascent, he had allowed the missile to catch up, detonating it with his heat vision.

It was a thermobaric bomb—a weapon designed to create a massive pressure wave and incinerate everything in its blast radius.

The explosion hurled Homelander several kilometers through the sky, testing the limits of his endurance.

It was the first time since his arrival in this world that he'd encountered something so destructive. And for a moment—just a moment—he'd felt fear.

But his Iron Body held.

The heat and shockwave had left him unscathed, though the experience gave him a newfound appreciation for his durability.

And, as a bonus, the mastery of his Iron Body had skyrocketed from the encounter.

Now, there was only one thing left to do.

"So," Homelander said, his voice dripping with amusement, "got any more tricks up your sleeve?"

Brad forced a shaky grin. "Don't underestimate me, Homelander. Fat King can still block your beams, and my Substitute Illusion makes me untouchable."

Homelander chuckled softly.

"Didn't you notice?" he said, his tone almost sympathetic.

"The moment you two split up… you lost."

With that, Homelander blurred into motion, a streak of blue tearing through the air.

Brad barely had time to turn before Homelander's fist smashed into Fat King's skull, shattering it with a sickening crunch.

═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═

patreon.com/AmbitiousTranslator

🥰 Support the translation and help me grow.🤓

Read upto 20 Extra chapter in Patreon