Wade hovered in mid-air, surrounded by dense forest below.
Just as he was about to descend, a strange sensation swept over him without warning.
The rustling of the wind through the leaves suddenly magnified in his ears, transforming into a discernible symphony of friction; he could even faintly pick up the crisp echoes of keyboard clicks, conversations, and footsteps from the safe house below.
"Is this... Black Noir's Hyper-Sensitive Senses? Is that all?"
His pupils contracted slightly as he sensed everything around him, yet nothing felt different.
"My sight, touch, and smell haven't been enhanced. It must be that practicing [Air Manipulation] and [Freeze Vision] brought those three along for the ride."
He subconsciously clenched his fist, feeling another power quietly surging within him: [Hyper-Speed Healing].
Unlike the sudden dramatic change in his senses, this power was more like a deep, warm undercurrent, silently flowing and permeating his limbs and bones.
Old hidden injuries left from previous battles were being repaired and mended at an incredible speed as this warm current passed through, much faster than his original [High-Speed Healing].
As for [Pain Immunity], there was no need to absorb it.
In Wade's view, pain was the body's most faithful alarm, a godsend for locating injuries and adjusting tactics.
Given his endurance, he could completely transform pain into an aid for combat, without needing to discard it entirely like Black Noir.
He closed his eyes, spending a few seconds adapting to this slightly enhanced body, as his senses and the warm current achieved a new balance within him.
"New abilities are always at the Basic Level upon acquisition; being able to patch up deficiencies is already great."
When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was clear once more, and he floated down toward the Forest Ranger Station Safe House below... Noon, Forest Ranger Station Safe House.
Wade flew all the way into the basement, landing on the ground with his clothes wrinkled and dripping wet.
Frenchie heard the noise and walked out of the room. Seeing him soaked, he quickly asked, "Shit! Is it raining outside? I haven't brought in my laundry yet!"
Wade took off his clothes and replied irritably, "No, it was too hot, so I just went for a swim in the sea."
MM heard the sound and walked over, throwing the set of clean clothes he was holding onto the old sofa: "How did it go with Black Noir? Did you chase him off? Or..."
Wade pulled a waterproof sealed bag from his pocket and tossed it onto the table: "Go look at the photos yourself."
Butcher scoffed, grabbed the sealed bag dismissively, and said, "What could possibly be a big deal..."
Before he finished speaking, he swiped his finger across the screen twice, and his voice cut off abruptly, as if he had suddenly been choked.
Butcher's face froze, only his eyes were shaking violently, scanning the bloody pictures back and forth: "Holy... fucking... shit!"
This loud exclamation immediately drew the attention of the others.
Hughie looked up from the computer desk: "What is it, Butcher?"
MM ran out of the kitchen: "What's all the shouting about? Did you see something good?"
Frenchie and Kimiko also stopped what they were doing and cast questioning glances.
Butcher didn't answer, he just turned the phone screen toward the group.
In that instant, the entire basement fell into a deathly silence.
On the screen were several high-definition close-up shots.
The arrogant killing machine that had effortlessly defeated the five of them like a nightmare last night was kneeling on the beach, its head slumped, with a horrifying, massive void in its chest.
Sunlight spilled onto the black armor, but brought no warmth, only a chilling, deathly stillness.
Behind Black Noir's corpse, the golden sand was smeared with dark red liquid, forming a written message full of provocation.
The bloody image, paired with this open declaration of war, created a visual shock that shattered the perceptions of the five people present.
MM's hand paused halfway to his beard. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he muttered, "Good God! If those Vought bastards see this... they'll go insane, right?"
Hughie's eyes were wide as saucers, and he said indignantly, "Well done, that piece of trash deserved it!"
Frenchie clapped excitedly now and then, his eyes bursting with fervent light, his hands slightly spread: "Ohlala... the composition, the color contrast... the silent aesthetics of violence and death, it has the flavor of a Louvre masterpiece!"
The usually violent Kimiko stared blankly, uttering an unintelligible croaking sound in her throat, her eyes filled with disbelief.
Butcher looked at Wade, who was wiping himself down with a dry towel, his voice slightly altered: "You... you did this?"
Wade stopped, glanced over the stunned crowd, and said flatly, "What else? Did he spontaneously decide to cut open his own chest and write those eulogies on the beach?"
"B-but... but..." Frenchie stammered, pointing at the phone screen, "That's Black Noir, Black Noir of The Seven! The five of us combined couldn't even scratch him, how... how did you..."
MM sat backward on a chair, resting his chin on his hands: "Strange, we took the compound too, and we have a Supe... why the difference?"
Wade draped the towel over his shoulder, walked over to a section of concrete wall temporarily serving as a blackboard, and picked up a piece of chalk.
"Because most of you only have a superficial understanding of so-called superpowers."
He tapped the blackboard with his knuckles, recalling the information he had gathered on campus: "Listen up, I'm only saying this once."
Everyone immediately gathered around.
"Superpowers aren't something you can do whatever you want with just because you have them. They're like using a tool; they require understanding and practice."
Wade wrote a large "I" on the wall.
"Stage I, Basic Level. Like how you guys are right now."
"You take the compound and realize... oh, I can turn invisible, my strength increased. And then what?"
"It's like a baby getting a gun—they just pull the trigger randomly and might even injure themselves... Your attack on Black Noir was like five armed babies challenging a fully equipped special forces veteran."
Next, he wrote "II" on the blackboard.
"Stage II, Advanced Level. You start understanding the principle of the ability, can control it more precisely, reduce consumption, and increase power. I am roughly at this stage now."
Then came "III".
"Stage III, Mastery Level. Core members of The Seven, like Black Noir, Maeve, and A-Train, are generally at this level. Their application of their abilities is already superb, forming a unique combat style and system... Black Noir has extremely fast reaction speed, great strength, and healing abilities, plus the Ninja Fighting Techniques he mastered. You lost fairly."
The chalk wrote "IV".
"Stage IV, Master Level. These people are few and far between. Their abilities have been developed to the extreme, they have achieved thorough mastery, and can utilize their powers perfectly, almost instinctively. Homelander is one of them."
Finally, he wrote a "V" but added a question mark.
"Stage V, Grandmaster Level. This only exists in theory, reaching the point of pioneering new realms of ability. I haven't seen anyone there yet."
Wade tossed the chalk, turned around, and looked at the thoughtful crowd: "Do you understand now? You injected the compound and gained Stage I abilities, yet you rashly challenged a Stage III professional assassin... not getting killed outright was pure luck!"
Butcher's face cycled between green and white. He stared intently at the numbers on the blackboard, especially the "IV" and the example "Homelander."
Hughie clutched his head and looked down dejectedly: "Fuck... it's like playing a game, we're still just beginners! No wonder..."
Wade's gaze swept over the various expressions of the group, settling on Butcher, and he said in a deep voice, "Do you know the gap now?"
"Who gave you the courage to directly attack a member of The Seven without figuring out their capabilities first?"
"If Hughie hadn't been lucky enough to escape and find me, you would all be captured by Vought and undergoing severe interrogation right now!"
Butcher's cheek twitched. He pointed at the box of compounds on the table and retorted, "Fuck that! If the stuff you gave us wasn't so ineffective, like some cheap knockoff, would we have lost so badly?"
"If you've got guts, give us the real stuff—the kind that can take down Homelander directly!"
As soon as he said this, even MM and Frenchie couldn't help but look away, feeling that Butcher was being overly unreasonable.
Wade was momentarily speechless with anger, rubbing his wet hair: "Look at me, look closely! I was chased by your 'dream Supe' Homelander like a stray dog, driven from the shore into the sea, and only escaped by hiding underwater!"
"I was damn near a floating corpse in the Atlantic Ocean! And you're talking to me about compound quality? You couldn't even withstand a puff of his breath!"
Butcher glared defiantly, sneering coldly, "Just tell me if there's a way to deal with him! If not, I'll find one myself!"
Wade narrowed his eyes and looked at him, remaining silent: 'Is this guy trying to provoke me to reveal my hand? Or...'
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