That naturally pushed them closer to Zodhis, the superhero.
After all, Zodhis did not come from some capitalist dynasty. He had built everything from scratch, and by now, he had become an idol for entrepreneurs not just in America, but across the whole world.
Other than a small number of superheroes who had been swayed by money and benefits and chose to betray the Superhero Association, the rest all remained tightly aligned with it.
America, short on manpower, had begun setting its sights on the supervillains.
Aside from the monsters that had to be eliminated every single time, there had also recently been a growing number of supervillains causing trouble. Some of them had superpowers, while others relied on equipment. As for the supervillains who were captured, America had adopted a bomb-implant style control method for them.
But in order to keep those supervillains from feeling utterly hopeless under constant control and going hysterical, America announced a merit-based system instead. Once they earned enough merit points, they could become official government employees and enjoy all kinds of benefits and high salaries.
The supervillains had no choice.
They could only choose to believe the words of politicians and capitalists.
"Don't come any closer!"
The terrorist sprayed his gun wildly, but every bullet that struck the man in front of him flattened or cracked apart on impact. Not a single round reached its goal.
Wearing the Dark Knight armor, Zod moved like a phantom and appeared in front of the terrorist in an instant.
Then he threw a punch that caved the terrorist's chest in by three centimeters.
At that moment, a terrorist in a jeep nearby opened fire with the vehicle-mounted machine gun.
Mounted on the jeep was an NSV heavy machine gun dragging a long belt of ammunition behind it. The weapon used a gas-operated automatic system and a unique offset bolt locking mechanism. Any fire point or bunker within two kilometers would be completely useless in front of it. Of course, using this thing was not cheap either. BZ armor-piercing rounds and BZT armor-piercing incendiary rounds were its standard ammunition, with armor-piercing rounds selling internationally for five dollars each, while BZT rounds went for eight dollars each. And the thing's cyclic fire rate was an astonishing 700 to 800 rounds per minute!
Under normal circumstances, even a permanent reinforced concrete fortification five centimeters thick could not endure more than three hundred armor-piercing rounds being poured into it. So naturally, everything around Dark Knight Zod was torn apart into a storm of dust and debris.
And yet Zod, clad in the Dark Knight armor, advanced straight into that metal tempest. Bullets slammed into him as if they carried no impact at all. His steps did not slow in the slightest. Instead, they carried the immovable steadiness of roots driven deep into the earth.
A crimson glow lit up in the lenses over his eyes.
This was the Dark Knight armor's "laser beams."
In reality, it was Heat Vision.
Zod had merely modified the structure of the lenses so that their crystalline interior could reflect light hundreds of millions of times. As a result, even the slightest bit of Heat Vision could ultimately unleash apocalyptic power.
The Heat Vision effortlessly vaporized over half the jeep, and the terrorists inside it were reduced to ash along with it.
After sweeping through every terrorist there like a violent storm, he slowly raised his head and stared at the surveillance camera.
"I'll be watching you from the darkness!"
"Fuck!"
"What is he trying to do?!"
"Is he declaring war on us?!"
The boss behind these terrorists slammed his hand down on the table in fury. Then pain shot through his bones as if they were about to crack, and the mix of rage and pain turned his pale face red.
These terrorists came from the Zandara tribe, whose population had reached 170,000 and who were rumored to possess Apaches and missiles.
The Zandara tribe in Benghazi, Libya, Africa had practically replaced the local government's functions in the area. Their brutality was enough to make crying children fall silent in terror.
And that boss was none other than the tribal leader, Zandara.
The Zandara Tower where he was staying was a modern high-rise covering more than sixty thousand square meters. Normally, Chief Zandara did not have much official business to deal with. After all, the tribe had secretly ruled Benghazi for more than ten years already, and everything had long been put on track. Even when problems did arise, his sons would scramble to handle them in order to show off their abilities, so there was rarely much left for him to do personally.
But lately, his business had suffered a huge blow.
Other than dealing with monsters, superheroes had now started going after people like them, embodiments of evil.
Of course, Zodhis had not immediately ordered them to charge straight at capitalists and politicians. That would have gotten them killed very quickly.
So he gave them a grand and legitimate target instead.
Terrorists.
On the international stage, striking terrorists was the most "correct" thing one could do.
Even if some of these terrorists were secretly backed by certain major powers, it did not matter. Those powers could hardly come out and admit it openly. And as for dirty tricks in the shadows, Zodhis feared them even less.
He had eliminated the heavily armed terrorists entrenched here, yet the local civilians showed no joy whatsoever.
Instead, there was only fear and unease on their faces.
Zodhis understood why they felt that way.
Because superheroes would only come once. After the problem was resolved, the terrorists would return. And when they did, they would not go after the superheroes for revenge. Instead, they would once again establish their authority here, inflicting another round of suffering on the locals.
They would never allow the local people to develop any spirit of resistance. Instead, they would crush both their will and their thoughts, teaching them that every injury they suffered had come because of those self-righteous people who claimed to bring justice.
That had been true of America's anti-terror soldiers in the past.
And it was true now of superheroes as well.
If the people simply obeyed their rule, at worst life would be a little harder and only a few individuals would suffer.
But every time someone came to "save" them, what followed afterward would always be even crueler retaliation.
Gradually, these civilians stopped hoping anyone would save them.
Some even came to hate those who tried.
And the only once-and-for-all solution to this problem was to wipe out the source of the terrorists completely.
"Perfect. That bunch has nothing better to do anyway."
Zodhis shot into the sky.
And after he left, curses and sobbing erupted everywhere.
He pitied their misfortune and hated their refusal to fight.
"We're going to make a move against the Zandara tribe in Benghazi, Libya, Africa? That'll cause extremely serious international disputes and consequences."
Inside the conference room of the Superhero Association, after Zodhis put forward his suggestion, not everyone agreed.
"Zod, I understand your urgency, but our very existence is already trampling on the law. If we go a step further and carry out armed action across borders, things will get very troublesome."
Even Tony Stark was opposed to the idea.
He had matured by now. He understood what could be done and what could not, especially in their current situation, when so many eyes were fixed on them.
/-\
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