Chapter 126: The Boy Whose Family Was Destroyed (Patreon)

In an instant, the horrific scene unfolding on the other side of the small town flashed fully into Alex's mind.

Flames roared into the sky over the town's east district, billowing black smoke choking the heavens, the scorching glow staining half the sky red.

Residents in the streets had fallen into total panic — screams, sobbing, and pounding footsteps tangled together as everyone scattered in a desperate scramble just to survive.

The police car that had just gone speeding past now lay completely overturned, its frame twisted and warped, wrapped from end to end in raging flames, the acrid stench of scorched metal drifting on the wind.

A blood-soaked officer staggered upright in the middle of the street, his uniform soaked through with blood and torn to shreds, his body covered in wounds of every depth, his breath ragged and uneven.

He was the town's only Superhuman police chief, having awakened a speed-type superpower — his physical abilities far surpassed an ordinary person's, his speed incredible.

His speed couldn't match someone as unstoppable as the top-tier A-Train, but it was still highly practical — not only did it grant astonishing mobility, it boosted his physical stamina, explosive power, and reflexes across the board.

On an ordinary day, facing a dozen armed criminals was nothing — he could crush and subdue them with ease, without breaking a sweat.

But against the massive black robot before him now, he was completely outmatched, unable to fight back, forced to hang on and endure.

The chief's standard-issue pistol fired again and again, bullets striking true against the robot's body one after another — but they only left shallow white scratches across the black metal shell.

Every round was deflected by the hardened plating, unable to inflict any real damage at all.

Gritting his teeth, he tossed aside the useless pistol and gripped his rubber baton, swinging it with all his strength at the robot's arm — but the baton striking the hardened metal frame was like an egg against a rock; it didn't so much as make the thing shudder.

The chief knew all too well how thin the town's police force was — the entire district had only three officers.

He was the only one who'd completed the Superhuman modification and stayed behind to guard the town; the other two officers had gone off to New York for training and hadn't yet returned to their posts. The station's armory did hold heavier weapons, but it was still some distance from here.

If he pulled back to retrieve them, this mindless killing machine would inevitably charge straight at the fleeing, innocent residents and launch a fresh massacre.

The town's elderly, its children, its ordinary people — all of them would be cut down by the machine's fire.

He didn't dare retreat, couldn't retreat — all he could do was grit his teeth and hold the line, using his speed to buy time, clinging to the robot and refusing to let go. Blood kept seeping from his wounds, his stamina draining fast, sharp pain gnawing at his resolve.

Despair crept over him bit by bit; he was nearly at his breaking point. His only hope now was the distress signal he'd just sent to the Hero Association.

Just as his vision began to blur, right on the edge of collapse, a voice rang out from the sky above — gentle, yet carrying immense power, ringing clear in his ears.

"You've done well. Leave the rest to me."

That familiar, commanding voice cut through the chaos and despair like a ray of dawn breaking over the darkest hour.

The chief's whole body jolted; on reflex, he forced his exhausted frame upright and looked up.

A tall, transcendent figure hovered in midair, standing against the light, radiating an aura of calm, overwhelming strength.

It was a figure he'd seen countless times in news broadcasts and official footage — burned into his memory, unforgettable for as long as he lived.

"H-Homelander, sir!"

The chief's pupils shrank, disbelief written across his face; the shock was so total that he forgot all about the towering robot looming beside him, his whole body frozen in place.

Alex descended slowly to the ground, his feet touching lightly down on the scorched street, and looked at the wounded chief with a gentle gaze.

"It's me," he said simply. As he spoke, he casually pulled a clear, custom-made vial from his pocket and held it out to the man.

"Dilute this fully in ten liters of clean water, then give it to every injured resident to drink. It'll heal their wounds fast and save their lives."

"Now go evacuate the rest of the residents and treat the wounded. I've got things here."

The chief took the precious vial with trembling hands, his fingertips brushing the cold glass, and as he looked up at the supreme being before him, his eyes went red.

Overwhelming emotion, awe, and relief tangled together inside him, drowning out the pain in his body and the despair in his heart.

He immediately straightened up and snapped off a perfect salute, his face a mix of fervor and solemnity, his voice ringing out strong and clear.

"Yes, sir! Homelander, sir!"

With that, the chief didn't hesitate a moment longer — he spun around, unleashed his speed power, and became a blur streaking toward the residential district.

The rush of his speed kicked up a small breeze; within seconds he'd vanished entirely at the end of the street, throwing himself fully into the evacuation and rescue effort.

The street finally fell silent, leaving only Alex standing face-to-face with the cold, black hulk of the robot.

Alex slowly lifted his gaze, eyes settling on the crude, roughly built machine, a flicker of amusement passing through them.

"Interesting. I go out for a casual stroll and run into something this bizarre."

He knew next to nothing about mechanical engineering and couldn't make out the robot's core technology.

But even judging purely by the visible finish, he could tell right away that the workmanship was shoddy and crude.

Without meaning to, he found himself comparing it to the top-tier machines of the One-Punch Man universe — Metal Knight Bofoi's combat mechs, or the smart devices Dr. Kuseno had developed. Every one of those was a precision-crafted, exquisitely designed masterpiece.

This robot, by contrast, was crudely assembled, with nothing precise about it at all — less an intelligent combat mech than a slapped-together hunk of scrap iron.

Just as Alex was sizing it up, the red light in the black robot's head flared brighter and its stiff joints ground back into motion. A flat, cold, mechanical voice suddenly rang out.

"Eliminate."

A faint smile touched the corners of Alex's mouth; he didn't take the threat seriously at all.

"Let's put the 'eliminating' on hold," he said, tone breezy. "First, let's find out where you've got your core power source hidden."

Before he'd even finished speaking, his figure flickered — no warning, no sound of displaced air — and vanished from where he stood, slipping entirely out of the robot's tracking sensors.

An instant later, the afterimage froze in place — Alex had already reappeared silently behind the ten-foot-tall robot, his movement impossibly swift.

He reached out and lightly gripped the robot's heavy metal torso — the same armor that had shrugged off gunfire moments ago now felt as fragile as a dried-out cracker in his hand.

No effort, no real force needed — one casual tug was enough to shatter the heavy plating.

A huge chunk of metal tore away easily, exposing the tangled, chaotic mess of wiring, tubing, and components inside.

Alex looked down at the cluttered mechanism inside, dense wiring crisscrossing with no logic to it at all. His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of exasperation rising in him.

He'd never known the first thing about mechanical engineering, and faced with this disorganized mess, he couldn't make heads or tails of it — no way to tell where the core power unit even was.

Not that he needed to puzzle it out himself; there were professionals for that.

The damaged robot had already locked onto Alex's position; its internal gears spun rapidly as its arm reconfigured and swung around to face him.

Another high-explosive rocket shot out from its arm, trailing fire, streaking straight for Alex's face with brutal force.

"Cut it out, I'm busy," Alex said, expression unchanged, and casually plucked the incoming rocket out of the air, then gave it a light flick.

The speed of his bare-handed motion far outpaced the rocket's own flight speed, instantly rewriting its trajectory.

The rocket reversed direction in a flash, streaking hundreds of meters straight up into the sky.

A muffled explosion boomed high overhead a second later.

"Boom!"

A flash of red fire flared and vanished far above; the shockwave dissipated harmlessly in the high winds, leaving the ground below untouched.

Ignoring the robot's second attack entirely, Alex pulled out his phone and switched it to camera mode.

Patiently and thoroughly, he took dozens of detailed, high-resolution photos of the machine's exposed innards from every angle.

To give his research team a clearer view, he easily dismantled the robot's limbs and extraneous parts, laying its core frame fully bare, and photographed each piece in turn.

Once that was done, he opened his private messaging app and sent Ashley a voice message.

"Get a tech team on these photos right away — I want the location of this thing's core power source pinpointed and sent to me."

The moment the message went through, Alex put his phone away, his gaze falling once more on the wrecked robot, an eyebrow rising slightly.

The red light on the robot's frame was flashing wildly now, faster and faster, an urgent beeping alarm sounding without pause. Sparks flickered along its internal wiring, its energy fluctuations growing violent and erratic, radiating extreme instability.

It looked exactly like a bomb about to go off.

"What a nuisance."

Alex let out a resigned sigh, in no mood to study it any further.

He reached out with one hand, gripped the massive robot's frame firmly, and pushed off the ground — shooting straight up into the sky, gaining hundreds of meters in an instant.

"Beep beep beep beep beep—!"

The robot's self-destruct alarm grew shriller and more frantic, its energy fluctuations spiraling completely out of control, on the verge of detonation.

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Alex hurled the machine, now moments from self-destructing, even farther into the empty sky.

Almost the instant it left his hand, a massive explosion erupted.

"BOOM!"

An earth-shaking roar tore across the sky as blazing red flames and blinding white light burst outward, forming a vast sea of fire above the town.

The violent blast wave swept outward in every direction, howling winds tearing at Alex's clothes, snapping and flapping in the gale.

The scorching heat washed over him but couldn't so much as budge him.

Charred fragments of the machine rained down through the smoke and fire, scattering across the empty countryside below.

Hovering high above, Alex looked down at the scattered wreckage and scratched his head.

"Blown to pieces," he said flatly. "Guess there's nothing left worth studying in depth."

Even so, a quiet curiosity had begun to stir in him.

Ever since taking supreme power over America, he'd had the authority to access every classified file, every secret research project, and every unexplained anomaly in the country.

A robot that appeared out of nowhere — crudely built, yet capable of devastating explosive force — was clearly not something the government had developed.

Something unknown was almost certainly hiding behind it — perhaps some hidden hostile faction, or an unknown research experiment.

This seemingly random attack on a small town was clearly not so simple.

As he studied the devastation around him, his personal device buzzed softly — a notification from a private contact.

It was Ashley.

A high-resolution photo popped up on the screen, marked with professional red annotation arrows and text labels that clearly and precisely pinpointed the exact location of the core power module inside the humanoid robot that had rampaged through the town.

Alongside it was a clean, step-by-step disassembly guide, each step clearly labeled and easy enough to follow that anyone could grasp the key steps in no time.

The intel was thorough enough, but Alex barely glanced at it — his eyes lingering on the image for maybe two seconds — before he put the device away without a second look.

The robot had already blown itself up; there was nothing left to disassemble.

He tapped the screen lightly, skipping a text reply, and called Ashley directly.

The call connected almost instantly, and Ashley's voice came through the line, stiff and clearly tense.

"S-sir."

Ashley was clutching the phone with both hands, her knuckles pale from the pressure, her whole body strung tight as a wire. Waves of unease surged through her, anxiety wrapping tight around her chest.

Had she been too slow relaying the intel? Had she failed to pin down the robot's details in time and thrown off her boss's judgment?

The moment Alex's message had come in, she'd mobilized every available hand without a second's pause.

But even so, staring at the sudden incoming call, she was still gripped by dread, terrified that her work hadn't been thorough enough and would draw Alex's displeasure.

Countless thoughts of self-blame and worry spun through her mind, dragging her into a spiral of anxious tension.

Just as her thoughts churned, Alex's steady voice came through the line, washing away most of her panic.

"Ashley, mobilize every intelligence channel you have. I want a full investigation into every company, research institution, and private lab that could be connected to this robot."

Alex's instructions were clear and to the point, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

This sudden robot attack was too strange to ignore — appearing without warning to rampage through this peaceful little town.

Judging by the robot's build quality, power system, and combat behavior, it almost certainly wasn't standard military hardware, nor a mass-produced model openly developed by any major tech corporation.

But everything had a source. No matter how slim the odds, every lead had to be chased down, every origin traced.