Conquering the Multiverse Starting with the Black Robe

Late at night, Water Tower.

The television screen kept fast-forwarding and rewinding, repeatedly showing the scene of Rean crushing the black man's head.

This is a secretly filmed video. The image quality is not clear, and the total duration is only a dozen seconds, but it has been looped on the screen no less than thirty times.

The blond white man watching the video squinted, his eyelids trembling with each stomp, his heart filled with suppressed rage.

"Do you know how much my approval rating has dropped, Madeline? 0.2 percent! A full 0.2 percent! And people are blaming me for it?!"

Homelander paced back and forth, hands on his hips, then turned to look at the middle-aged woman soothing the baby. His lips were pressed into a thin line. "Why? How could they treat me like this? Just because I didn't do everything perfectly? This was an emergency, and I wasn't even there!" His tone was filled with obvious confusion and a hint of barely perceptible grievance.

"I don't even know where this freak came from, and they expect me to know everything in advance? I'm not God!"

Suddenly, his brows furrowed, as if he had figured something out, and his eyes shifted from anger to suspicion.

He paused, looked at the woman, and said with certainty, "I understand, Madeline. This is a play you and Edgar put on. 'Superhero vs. Supervillain.' You'll stop at nothing to interfere in defense matters."

"Eee-yah-yah—"

Homelander watched the woman playing with the baby, a nervous irritation creeping onto his face. He unconsciously raised his voice, "That's a good move, but you should have consulted me beforehand. It shouldn't have been Xuanse who died; he was my good buddy! My capable subordinate!"

Madeline looked up at him, let out a soft sigh that was almost helpless, put the baby back in the cradle next to her, and slowly walked to Homelander.

She reached out and gently stroked the man's cheek, using the same technique she had used to stroke the baby—her palm against his skin, her thumb circling his cheekbone.

This trick always works.

As the man calmed down, he took her wrist, closed his eyes, and enjoyed her caresses. He then extended his tongue and gently licked her fingers.

Madeline smiled, reaching down with her other hand. "Darling, I know nothing about this. I'll go ask Edgar."

"But right now, I need you to get some rest. You have more important things to do tomorrow, like trying to get those members of Congress on my side."

Homelander opened his eyes, brushed her hand away, and turned his head to the side. "Yes, because that's the only use I have in your eyes, is that it?"

"Smile at people, stay cool, and then go through the motions, reciting those pre-rehearsed lines... Oh my god, Madeline, how many more times do I have to do this?"

His tone was low, even somewhat resentful. "You don't understand me at all, Madeline. Nobody understands the audience better than me. I know what people want. I love Walter. I could have done so much more, but you always keep it from me, as if I'm not part of this family."

Madeline listened patiently to him finish speaking, then said softly, "I know, I understand you, darling, really. You've done so much for the company, you've earned us $123 billion, and the company's stock price has soared because of you."

"But I can't let you carry all that burden. You're too tired. I swear, I'm doing this just to protect you."

"Protect me? Great! My approval rating dropped by 0.2 percent. How am I supposed to sleep?" Homelander rolled his eyes and said irritably.

Madeline shook her head and pulled him to sit on the sofa. "People still love you, they're just terrified."

"God is flawless. You can't expect everyone to understand you, but you can guide these lost sheep."

Homelander's nostrils flared as he leaned on the woman's shoulder, seemingly accepting the explanation. He looked at the television screen. "So what do we do with this guy? He killed Black, and he kidnapped Invisible Man; his whereabouts are unknown. This is blatant provocation; the Seven-Man Squad has completely lost face."

"You know what? Those who oppose us have even given him a catchy nickname—"

"Villain!"

Bang!

Covered in rust, it looked as if a long-sealed door had been kicked open, and thick smoke billowed from the cramped basement.

The loud noise immediately startled the several people who were busy inside.

"Damn it, French! You said this place was absolutely safe!" Butcher leaned back on the sofa, his face pale, as French was trying to stop his bleeding.

"Fuck you, Squid! Everything's safe until you show up, you bastard!"

French yelled back, giving the middle finger, and pulled out his pistol, cocking it. "Kid, hold his wound down, don't let him bleed to death. I'm going to check what happened!"

"OK! OK!" Hughie was covered in sweat, his hands pressed firmly against Butcher's severed hand through the gauze.

French stopped after taking two steps and pointed his gun at the door.

The newcomer stepped through the dust and smoke.

A calm and handsome face appeared in everyone's sight. It was Rean. He had changed into a hoodie and was wearing a pair of brand-new Adidas sneakers.

French held his gun, finger on the trigger, looking at the unfamiliar young man before him with suspicion and uncertainty. "Who are you?"

Rean looked around, his gaze settling on the one-armed man behind French. "You can ask Ash in the back; he knows who I am."

"Don't try to get on my good side, kid." Butcher breathed heavily, his voice hoarse as he looked at the boy who had barged in. "You killed that Japanese ninja?"

"And that naked man," Rean added, pulling over a sturdy-looking stool, brushing off the dust, and sitting down.

Butcher held his head high, but a storm raged in his heart.

Less than an hour has passed since he left, which means that in such a short time, this kid single-handedly took down two top superhumans from the Super Seven.

They weren't just ordinary third-rate people; they were elites selected through multiple rounds of screening and pushed to the forefront by Walter.

Butcher remained expressionless, coughing twice to cover his shock. "Alright, French, put down the gun."

"Although I'm not sure where this kid comes from, I'm certain he's not with Walter and his gang of super bastards."

French wiped his sweaty brow with the barrel of his gun, tilting his head to look at Butcher: "So you're trying to tell me you brought back a superhuman ally?"

"I don't know him well, but he saved my and Hughie's lives. It sounds ridiculous, but it's true." Butcher looked Rean up and down, his gaze somewhat scrutinizing.

"Wozerfa? You don't know him?" French felt like he was getting confused.

"Alright, kid, I'm not going to die." Butcher pushed Hughie aside and sat up straight. "That's exactly what I'm curious about: who exactly are you?"

"I saved your life, there's no need to be so aggressive. I just finished a tough battle, and I'm starving. Is there anything to eat here?" Rean asked French.

French glanced at Butcher, giving him a "I'll settle this with you later" look, and pulled out a few chocolate bars from the cabinet next to him, tossing them over. "Tiger Lady Maeve brand almond chocolate bars. I'm a pretty good cook, but these are all I have here."

"That's fine, thank you, French."

French smiled and said, "You're welcome, my friend." Then he went over to continue treating Butcher's injuries.

Rean chewed on a chocolate bar, fiddling with the wrapper in his hand. When he looked up, he found everyone staring at him expectantly, and he was speechless.

"Okay, I know Rebecca."

He made a startling statement.

"Nonsense! That's impossible." Butcher said this, but his body tensed up in an instant.

Rean shrugged. "It's true. She's still alive, with a five or six-year-old child by her side."

French stopped bandaging himself and looked at Butcher in surprise.

Boucher was clearly shocked by those words, her emotions extremely complex. After a long silence, she finally let out a long breath and asked in a trembling voice, "Is Becca... alright?"

Rean nodded, tore open the second pack of chocolate bars, and said, "They're alive and well. I saw it with my own eyes."

Boucher hesitated for a moment, then asked, "What do you want from me?"

"Bring your team to work for me."

Rean glanced at Frenchie and Hughie. "Let's take down Walter together so you can reunite with your wife."

"I know you all hate Walter to the core, and so do I, but hatred alone won't do. You don't have enough power to accomplish this."

"Boucher, you should know yourself that it's a pipe dream to think that a few nobody can take down Walter and fight against the most powerful superhuman in the world, Homelander."

"You need me."

"Only I have the ability to fight against the people of my homeland, and only I can lead you to victory."

Rean tossed aside the chocolate bar, took out Butcher's cold, severed hand, and stepped forward. "I won't say I'm on the side of justice, nor will I say I'm seeking any justice—"

He handed over the severed hand.

"Everything for revenge."

No one responded.

The scene was very embarrassing.

Normally, if the main character waves his hand, shouldn't the NPCs immediately bow down in worship?

Rean frowned slightly and looked at Hughie. "Hughie, Hughie Campbell. I know the train hit your girlfriend and killed her. He was spouting nonsense on TV. Robin was standing right next to the sidewalk, several meters from the middle of the road. Don't you want to avenge her?"

Hughie was breathing heavily and took a step back. "I...I just want to clear Robin's name. I don't want to kill any innocent people."

"The train engine should be exposed; he's a murderer and should be in jail, not enjoying his fame and fortune as he is now. That's wrong..."

Rean nodded. "Then you should listen to me. This isn't child's play. Resistance means bloodshed, and there will inevitably be sacrifices. But taking down Walter will prevent such tragedies from happening again and prevent lovers from being separated by death."

Hughie closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and shook his head desperately. "I...I can't do it. I'm different from you. I...I just can't do it!"

"No, you can, believe me, Hughie. I can feel the courage deep within you. You dare to stand up, and you never betrayed your companions even when faced with the Invisible Man's interrogation. You are not ordinary; you are different from others. You just lack someone to cheer you on. You are definitely not some piece of trash."

- Strange.

The reason Rean started his verbal sparring with Hughie was because he had the weakest willpower among the main characters. In the early part of the story, he believed almost everything others said. Although he was clever and loyal, he was definitely not a person with a firm stance.

Faced with Rean's persistent persuasion, Hughie finally succumbed to his sincere gaze and placed his hand on Rean's arm. "Fuck, guess what? I'm in! I want revenge for Robin! She can't just die like that, without a clear explanation! The truth shouldn't be hidden!"

When Hughie said those words, it was as if he had used up all his courage, or as if he had broken free of some kind of shackles. He straightened his shoulders slightly, and his eyes looked different.

"A wise choice, Hughie." Rean nodded in satisfaction and promised, "The locomotive killed your girlfriend, and I assure you, he will pay for it in blood."

Frank spat out the remaining half of his cigarette, glanced at Butcher, and then placed his hand on it as well. "Hey buddy, count me in."

He shook his head. "Although I don't have superpowers, I can provide fire support for everyone. I can improve various weapons."

Through their conversation, he already knew that the boy in front of him was an extremely powerful superhuman who had easily killed Xuanse and the Invisible Man. In his eyes, he was much stronger than Butcher, who only talked nonsense.

With such a capable person in the team, putting everything else aside, at least they don't have to worry about superhumans storming their lair and wiping them out.

Of course, the most important point is that they share the same stance.

"Welcome to the team, French." Rean nodded to him, then shifted his gaze to the last person.

French looked at Butcher, his gaze seeming to ask, "What the hell are you dawdling about?"

Butcher's eye twitched. He hadn't expected that Rean would leave him all alone so soon after arriving.

"Fuck you little bitches. I admit, this pep talk was pretty good; it even gave my dick goosebumps."

He joked, a signature roguish grin spreading across his face, "Walker crippled my left hand, but gave me more hands and feet."

He raised his intact hand. "Since you're all so eager to die, then count me in too. But let me make this clear from the start, kid."

He looked at Rean with sharp eyes, "If one day I find out that you've turned into a beast like Homelander, I'll be the first to chop you up and feed you to the dogs."

As soon as he finished speaking, he slammed his right hand down on the spot with a loud thud.

"For Bega."