“I won’t lie to you like they do.”
This sentence was like a cold scalpel, precisely severing the nerve called “fury” in Homelander’s brain.
His hand, squeezing Lynn’s neck, froze at the very last second.
In those blue eyes burning with a desire for destruction, the flames of madness slowly died out, replaced by an unprecedented blankness mixed with confusion and bewilderment.
*Beep.*
[Death countdown has stopped.]
[Survival quest status: Successful.]
As the system’s cold notification rang out, Homelander’s steel-like fingers finally released their grip, one by one.
Lynn’s body slid down the wall like a wet rag, collapsing onto the floor.
“Cough… *cough, cough, cough*…”
Fresh air flooded into his near-bursting lungs, bringing a sharp, burning pain.
Clutching his throat, he coughed violently, every breath jarring his injured neck bones and sending waves of pain that turned his vision black.
He had survived.
He had survived the wrath of a god.
Homelander didn’t leave.
He stood there, looking down at the disheveled, fallen Lynn.
He did not apologize; that word had never existed in his vocabulary.
He just stared, as if admiring a piece of art he had personally shattered, yet which miraculously had not completely fallen apart.
After a long while, he slowly squatted down to bring his eyes level with Lynn’s.
He reached out, seemingly wanting to touch the terrifying, purpling bruise already forming on Lynn’s neck, but his hand paused in midair before finally resting on Lynn’s shoulder.
“Then don’t lie to me.”
Homelander’s voice was quiet, yet it carried an unquestionable, brand-new sense of order.
“Never lie to me.”
This was no longer a threat; it was a contract.
A rule he had unilaterally established to maintain this perilous relationship.
Lynn’s heartbeat could fool a polygraph, but it couldn’t fool Homelander’s ears.
Therefore, he could only choose to tell the truth.
Or use partial truths to construct an even more dangerous lie.
[Detected strong emotional fluctuation in target Homelander. Cognitive structure is restructuring.]
[Survival quest completed. Issuing rewards…]
[Reward: Minor increase in heat vision proficiency.]
[Bonus Reward: Emotion Perception Fragment × 1]
A strange, invisible perceptive power instantly expanded in Lynn’s mind.
If super hearing was the capture of physical information, then emotion perception was the direct reading of raw data.
In this instant, Lynn “saw” Homelander’s current emotions.
It was a chaotic storm of interwoven colors.
There were the embers after a violent rage, confusion over his own loss of control, a bizarre sense of security stemming from Lynn’s promise that he “won’t lie,” but at its absolute core was a possessiveness so thick it had practically solidified.
He wasn’t glad that Lynn survived.
He was glad that this unique “toy” belonging to him hadn’t been broken by his own hands.
Lynn looked up, meeting Homelander’s gaze.
He didn’t show the fear or relief of a survivor.
He merely looked at Homelander calmly.
Then, from this extremely disadvantageous position, he launched a counterattack.
“Just now, you almost proved Vought right.”
Lynn’s voice was raspy from his injured throat, but his words were as piercing as icicles.
The expression on Homelander’s face froze.
He didn’t understand what Lynn meant.
“Don’t you always hate them?” Lynn pushed himself up off the floor, trying to sit a bit straighter.
“Hate how they treat you like an out-of-control monster, how they use all kinds of methods to monitor you, to define you.”
He looked into Homelander’s eyes and said, word by word:
“They say you are uncontrollable.”
“They say you are incapable of forming any normal relationships.”
“They say you only know violence, and that you destroy anyone who tries to get close to you.”
The corner of Lynn’s mouth curved into a mocking arc.
“Just now, you were a hair’s breadth away from proving all of it for them.”
These words were far more lethal than any previous “defense-break.”
It was no longer about ripping open Homelander’s scars.
It was telling him: all your rebellion, all your rage, ultimately amounts to nothing more than acting out the script they wrote for you, playing the “monster” they need.
Your rage, your loss of control, even your divinity—they are nothing but lines of data in Vought International’s evaluation reports.
You have never been truly free.
Homelander was completely stunned.
The logic in his mind—”I am a god, I rule everything”—was shattered to pieces by Lynn’s words.
He thought he was executing divine punishment, but in reality, he was just completing a standard “stress response test.”
He thought he was in control, but he was just perfectly roleplaying a “hazard.”
This cognitive collapse was far harder for him to accept than any emotional sting.
[Detected violent emotional fluctuation in target Homelander!]
[Defense-Break Points +40!]
[Reward: Emotion Perception Fragment × 2]
The perceptive power in Lynn’s mind strengthened once more.
He could now clearly “see” that alongside the powerful possessiveness at the core of Homelander’s emotional storm, a faint trace of self-doubt had appeared for the very first time.
Homelander looked at Lynn, then down at the hand that had nearly choked him to death, falling into a long silence.
Then, he made a move that surprised even Lynn.
He reached out and pulled Lynn up from the floor.
His movement was stiff and clumsy, like an imitation of a gesture of goodwill between humans he had seen in some movie.
“Next time,” Homelander said, his voice stiff as he looked at the finger marks on Lynn’s neck, “don’t make me so angry.”
He shifted the blame for his loss of control onto Lynn’s “provocation.”
Lynn found it laughable, but he knew that for a forty-something giant infant, this was already the maximum amount of “reflection” he was capable of.
“Then next time,” Lynn replied calmly, rubbing his aching neck, “you’d better make an appointment first.”
Surprisingly, Homelander did not object.
He gave Lynn a deep look—one filled with an indescribable complexity—then turned and left the office without a word.
The office door clicked shut.
Lynn let out a long breath, leaning against the wall, feeling as though all the strength had been drained from his body.
But his mind was exceptionally sharp.
Both his super hearing and emotion perception were active.
He heard Homelander’s receding footsteps.
He also heard another heartbeat and breath, which had been there outside the door the entire time, deliberately suppressed.
That person had listened to everything from start to finish.
Lynn didn’t move.
He just waited.
A few seconds later, the office door was gently pushed open.
Queen Maeve stood in the doorway.
She wasn’t wearing her combat suit, but simple civilian clothes, holding a glass of liquor in her hand.
Her gaze didn’t linger on the room, falling straight onto Lynn’s neck.
The shocking, purplish-blue handprint looked incredibly gruesome under the light.
There was no surprise on her face, as if she had long anticipated this outcome.
She raised her glass and gestured toward Lynn from a distance, as if toasting a dead man.
Then, in a tone mixed with mockery and pity, she spoke coldly.
“Do you understand now?”
“Anyone who gets close to him dies in the end.”