Black Robe: How can Saiki Kusuo not be considered a superpowered individual?

On the outskirts of New York, in a large private villa.

Many luxury vehicles drove up from the highway and parked in the parking area outside the villa.

One by one, superhumans scattered throughout New York stepped out of luxury cars, smiling and entering the villa with an air of sophistication.

far away.

The soldier boy took a pair of binoculars from the military pickup truck. The binoculars were very accurate, and even from a distance of nearly two kilometers, he could clearly see the superhumans getting out of the vehicle.

"Holi shit, is Walter going further and further down the path of creating giant babies?"

Benjamin looked at the increasingly bizarre superhumans, including one whose entire body was covered in stones, and couldn't help but complain.

"Well, that's exactly what Walter is like."

Butcher, standing to the side, shrugged.

"These days, superhumans all see themselves as messengers of God."

"I was spoiled rotten since I was a child."

"Fuc*, a bunch of freaks."

Benjamin's gaze fell on the villa. He put down his binoculars and raised an eyebrow at Butcher.

"I created this thing in 1952."

"Heroic Climax, a great name, the one Clara and I created back then."

Benjamin smirked and gave Butcher a knowing look.

"...Shit, you're the source of all these freaks."

Butcher looked at Benjamin in front of him and, disregarding his feelings, directly complained.

"Come on, I just wanted to have some fun back then, I'm not participating in any of these things anymore."

Benjamin shrugged. After Clara left, he casually handed the Heroic Climax over to the Bomb Twins.

"I wasn't wrong either."

Butcher rolled his eyes.

"Hey, so, when are we going in?"

Hughie, who was standing nearby, asked.

"It's full of superhumans."

He was somewhat worried that if he and Butcher, two ordinary people, managed to sneak in, they might be easily defeated by the superhumans.

"wait."

Butcher took out his phone.

"What are you waiting for?"

Hughie, who was standing to the side, blinked.

"The moment the bomb explodes."

Butcher gave Hughie a bright smile.

"The instant the bomb exploded?"

Hughie repeated Butcher's words, still not understanding.

Butcher didn't bother to explain to Hughie; instead, he took out his phone, opened Twitter, and waited for something.

------------

"Hey, Susan, I got it."

"Don't worry, I've been waiting for this opportunity for a long time."

"No problem, the FBSA account on Twitter is ready to tweet. Are you ready with the CIA?"

"Fine, this time Walter will definitely pay the price."

In the office of the Director of the FBSA.

Newman hung up the phone with Susan, and the smile that had just appeared on his face vanished.

"Oh well, there's nothing we can do about it."

She sighed helplessly.

She had thought she was close to infiltrating the CIA, and that even if the CIA had something on Walter, she could help Walter resolve the problem from within.

But unexpectedly, this time the leverage would be so significant, and Walter's internal divisions would be so rapid.

Especially Rolner.

As the fourth board member of Wot, shouldn't he be most concerned about Wot's foundation—the V compound?

Why doesn't Rolner care about this at all?

Does this mean scientists are no longer involved in politics?

dong dong dong.

There was a knock on the office door.

A female assistant with short blonde hair walked in.

"Director Victoria, it's almost time. You should go and prepare your speech."

Newman smiled broadly.

"Fine, Maria, get the equipment ready for me."

"Of course, Director."

The assistant wore a smile, and everyone in the FBSA who learned about the V compound was very happy at that moment.

After all, their entire operation has been a battle against superhumans.

Seeing superhumans brought down from their pedestals, it's hard not to feel a sense of joy.

Newman's smile was somewhat stiff, and after Maria left, she lay down on the sofa, feeling rather weak.

Half an hour later.

On the streets of Manhattan, New York.

Less than a kilometer from the Waterhouse, a makeshift lectern has been set up.

With updates from the CIA and FBSA, two authoritative national agencies, a major piece of news appeared online.

Superhumans are not God's favorites, but rather pitiful experimental products.

Compound V, the reason for superhuman abilities: they are not gods, but monsters!

The two tweets caused an uproar across the internet.

In just one minute, the number of views reached an astonishing ten million, and the number of comments increased exponentially.

Poor experimental product; this is how the CIA defines superhumans.

"Monster" is the FBSA's infamous term for superhumans.

With the influx of countless netizens, the website even experienced slowdowns.

Facebook, YouTube, Twitter...

Various media outlets have been sharing and commenting on these two tweets, and have all tagged Walter's account.

However, the expected public relations response did not materialize.

Walter, the man who ruled the business empire across America and possessed the world's strongest public relations department, fell silent.

Like a stagnant pool, without any ripples.

Even if these two messages were like nuclear bombs, exploding the entire internet.

All the superhumans, even those still in the throes of passion, temporarily halted their reproductive endeavors, each pulling out their phones to refresh Vought's official account, hoping to see a response from him.

However, a minute passed, then two minutes passed...

Ten minutes passed, and even the jerk of some superhumans had gone limp, but Wot still hadn't responded.

No response is the worst response.

This is true.

Superhumans are not God's servants, but monsters brought out of laboratories.

Those superhumans with normal superpowers are alright.

Those who became neither human nor ghost because of their superpowers went completely insane.

The reasons they used to comfort themselves were completely shattered; they were no longer God's followers, but utter monsters.

Parents, company, everyone is deceiving themselves.

Inside the Hero Climax Club.

An eerie silence fell over the room.

There are no superhumans speaking.

They all stared blankly at the unmoved Walter account, which even had comments disabled, their spirits plummeting to rock bottom.

If they are not God's family.

Then their so-called "heroic climax" is nothing more than the reproduction of a bunch of freaks from a laboratory, isn't it?