"How… how dare you!"
Homelander's jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap. His masseter muscles bulged sharply along his cheeks, and a red glow threatened to burst from his eyes.
But then—he looked up and met Edgar's calm, indifferent gaze.
"What are you planning to do, Homelander?"
Edgar simply looked at him quietly.
Those eyes were like deep, bottomless wells—no widened pupils from fear, no increased blink rate from adrenaline, not even the slightest instinct to look away.
All the physiological signs that should accompany tension—trembling, cold sweat, rapid heartbeat—were completely absent from the man in the tailored suit.
It was as if the person standing before Homelander wasn't a superhuman who could tear tanks apart with his bare hands, but a disposable product, ready to be replaced at any time.
"I really don't like the way he looks at me," Homelander muttered.
He averted his gaze first, his body twitching slightly as the edge of his cape brushed past his knee—an involuntary act of retreat that made even him feel ashamed.
And yet, as the president of Vought, he should've known Edgar better than anyone.
That calm demeanor from Edgar made Homelander deeply uneasy, worried that Vought—the very company that created him in a lab—might be hiding some terrifying trump card.
Unfortunately for him, there was no trump card. Edgar was simply born with a poker face and a talent for intimidation.
If there had been one, Russell wouldn't have just embarrassed him or made his life uncomfortable—he would've taken Homelander down without a word.
"Everyone else, leave," Edgar ordered flatly. "Homelander and Madelyn stay."
No one dared disobey. As they left, Starlight and the others couldn't help but glance curiously at the young man known as Infinity before the conference room doors shut behind them.
Edgar stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands behind his back. If his earlier expression was indifferent, now it was cold. Even without speaking, the pressure in the room was suffocating.
"Homelander. What a fine mess you've made."
"What did I do?"
"You really don't know what you've done?" the young man who had been sitting quietly all this time finally spoke.
Homelander stepped forward immediately, crimson light flashing in his eyes like a lion whose territory had just been invaded, glaring at the speaker.
It was like he had just been waiting for Russell to open his mouth.
"Do you even know who you're talking to, kid?!"
"I'll remind you—you're speaking to the most powerful superhero on Earth. Show some damn respect!" Homelander's eyes were just seconds away from unleashing a scorching beam of destruction.
And yet—what the hell?
He found, for the second time today, someone who could stare him down without the slightest change in expression, their heartbeat steady as stone!
"A superhero who only knows how to sing, dance, and act?"
Russell's smile never faltered. He didn't treat Homelander's threat as anything more than a bad joke.
"Do you know who you're talking to, Homelander?" Edgar suddenly sneered, turning around.
"Who is he?" Homelander barked. "Some random superhuman you dug up? You think he can challenge my position?!"
"I'll tell you who he is," Edgar said coldly. "Infinity is a member of Vought's board of directors."
"Board of—?"
Madelyn gasped and quickly glanced at Russell.
So this absurdly young superhuman was actually a member of the Vought family?
No wonder Mr. Edgar hadn't cared at all about the young man's "disrespectful" behavior. Strictly speaking, Edgar himself—despite all his power and status—was just a professional manager chosen by the Vought family to run their company.
"One of the next-generation Voughts?"
That revelation made Homelander stare at Russell in surprise and confusion, his rage visibly cooling.
His explosive temper wasn't just about being disrespected. It stemmed from Edgar favoring Russell over him, igniting a deep-rooted sense of insecurity.
But if this young man was a true member of the Vought family, then it all made sense. Even though he was still extremely annoyed, Homelander forced himself to rein in his anger.
He had long heard stories of Frederick Vought—the man who created Compound V and birthed the age of superheroes—said to have single-handedly exhausted the genius of several generations of the Vought bloodline.
Since then, the Vought family had produced nothing but spoiled, talentless heirs who only knew how to waste resources.
"A spoiled rich kid playing superhero with a shot of Compound V?"
"Oh—my sincerest apologies, Infinity," Homelander said with a theatrical gesture, spreading his arms wide and delivering an Oscar-worthy performance. He clapped Russell hard on the shoulder, his voice dripping with syrupy, fake remorse. "You're so young—I honestly didn't expect you to be a board member."
It was a slap that could send most people stumbling. Yet Russell stood unmoved.
Homelander was surprised.
Smack!
Russell glanced at his shoulder, then casually brushed Homelander's hand away like flicking off a speck of dust.
Even though he'd tried to be sly with his strike, Homelander's hand was still coldly slapped aside—his expression darkened.
"Spare me your pathetic acting, Homelander," Russell scoffed before he could speak, his eyes sharp enough to shred through everyone's delusions.
"I didn't come here for no reason."
"I'm here on behalf of the entire board to ask you—who authorized you to leak Compound V?"
Vought knows?!
Homelander froze, a chill running through his spine.
At that moment, Edgar turned his head and stared him down with icy eyes, clearly waiting for a satisfactory answer.
The temperature in the conference room dropped several degrees.
Outside, the conference room doors were tightly shut. Starlight and the others stood in the hallway exchanging confused looks. Maeve leaned against the wall, her gaze fixed thoughtfully on the door.
Inside, Edgar's voice could be faintly heard—cold, reprimanding—but the exact words weren't clear.
"What the hell's going on?" Deep whispered, glancing at A-Train and the still-silent Black Noir, all of whom looked just as bewildered.
No one had an answer.
Suddenly, the door opened.
Edgar stepped out, suit pristine, face stern, his icy gaze sending chills down everyone's backs. The group instinctively held their breath—something serious had clearly gone wrong.
Madelyn quickly followed after him.
"Mr. Edgar, I can explain—I had no idea—" she started, voice tinged with panic.
Edgar didn't even look at her. He simply raised a hand, signaling her to be quiet.
Madelyn instantly fell silent, but then something clicked in her mind. She stopped, turned back, and addressed the group.
"The company has made a decision," she said stiffly, still trying to maintain her composure as vice president.
"There will be a temporary restructuring of The Seven's leadership. Homelander's position as captain is suspended. Infinity will act as interim leader in his place."
.....
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