Chapter 134: Homelander Has Arrived
But Butcher was not the kind of man who stayed down after one punch.
He shook his head, forced down the dizzying spin in his skull, gritted his teeth, and stood upright again.
Butcher’s combat instincts took over his body.
He had never been a man who relied on strength alone. Even before becoming a Supe, he had already been a veteran who survived countless life-or-death fights.
Butcher’s fists, knees, and elbows were all weapons.
He charged back in.
A straight punch, a right hook, a left hook, an elbow, a knee.
The combo came in vicious and fast.
Against any ordinary Supe, that barrage would have shattered bones and torn muscles by now.
But Benjamin was not an ordinary Supe.
He stood there without dodging or blocking, letting Butcher’s fists land on his face, chest, and stomach.
The straight punch slammed into his cheekbone, but his head did not even tilt.
The left hook swept across his jaw, and he felt nothing.
Butcher’s attacks were like a downpour hammering granite.
Loud, violent, spraying everywhere, but never leaving a mark.
After taking those hits head-on, Benjamin’s mouth suddenly curled into an unfriendly smile.
Then Benjamin stiffened his palm, pressed his fingers together, and chopped straight down at Butcher’s shoulder.
The move was simple and plain.
The instant the knife-hand strike hit his shoulder, Butcher’s body bent forward. A terrifying force drove into his shoulder blade, ran down his spine, and pressed his knees so low they nearly hit the ground.
His jaw clenched tight, veins bulging across his forehead. His entire right arm felt as if it had been ripped out of place, and tearing pain surged through his shoulder joint again and again.
But in the end, Butcher did not fully kneel. He braced himself with his left knee, half-kneeling in front of Benjamin.
Then Butcher raised his head. Two blinding golden beams suddenly erupted from his bloodshot eyes, scorching light pouring from deep within his pupils.
He had been waiting for this chance, waiting for Benjamin to get close enough and lower his guard.
The two burning beams struck Benjamin’s cheek with perfect accuracy.
And yet Benjamin did not even blink.
Heat Vision splashed across his cheek, but Benjamin still did not take a single step back.
Then, against the impact of those two beams of Heat Vision, Benjamin calmly lifted his right foot and drove a straight kick into Butcher’s completely unguarded stomach.
The instant his sole struck Butcher’s abdomen, Butcher was sent flying backward, his whole body bending into a perfect inverted C in midair.
The kick drove deep into Butcher’s waist and stomach. He flew more than ten meters before slamming hard into the road, then rolled four or five times before finally stopping, lying flat on his back and motionless.
As for Benjamin’s face, Heat Vision had left no trace at all. Not a scratch, not even a single singed hair.
"You bastard. What, were you trying to wash my fucking face?"
Butcher lay on the road more than ten meters away, his chest rising and falling with difficulty, bloody foam spilling constantly from the corner of his mouth.
His eyes were still open. Through vision blurred by sweat and blood, he saw Benjamin’s completely unharmed face.
At that sight, Butcher’s eyelids slowly closed, and he passed out.
Just then, a violent shockwave burst through the sky.
A blue-and-white figure dropped straight down at supersonic speed. The shockwave from his landing blasted gravel and fallen leaves on both sides of the highway in every direction.
Homelander had arrived.
His cape snapped behind him, and the high-altitude wind had left his blond hair slightly disheveled.
But there was no trace of exhaustion in those blue eyes, only a coldness pressed far below freezing.
He glanced at Butcher, who lay unconscious on the ground, then looked at Benjamin.
"Go after Ryan. They took him and ran," Benjamin said.
Homelander nodded. Without a word, he bent his knees slightly and shot straight into the woods beside the highway.
At that moment, in the forest, Mother’s Milk was carrying Ryan and running for his life, while Frenchie supported Becca, who was nearly collapsing from exhaustion, and followed close behind.
But compared to Homelander, they were far too slow.
Homelander flew above the treetops for less than ten seconds before locking onto their position.
He landed steadily less than two meters in front of Mother’s Milk.
Sunlight fell through the gaps between the leaves, scattering across his expressionless face.
Mother’s Milk stopped at once. Frenchie stopped too.
None of them tried to fight back or run.
They only knew one thing.
They were done.
Especially Butcher and the others.
...
Before long, Homelander walked out of the forest.
He was in front, gripping Mother’s Milk by the collar with his right hand and dragging him behind like a sack of potatoes.
His left hand held Frenchie by the back of the collar, just as roughly.
Behind him followed a deathly pale Becca, with Ryan held tightly in her arms.
Ryan’s little face was buried against his mother, only a pair of timid blue eyes peeking out.
He looked at Homelander’s broad back. In those blue eyes, so much like Homelander’s own, there was no longer only simple worship and attachment.
Ryan was still too young. He could not tell whether what his mother had said was true or false. He could not tell who was protecting him, and who was hurting him.