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"Devastating blow?" Superman's brow twitched slightly.
"Yes. Moreover, our garrisons in various locations—those elite units currently suppressing the human resistance strongholds—are also suffering devastating blows."
At that moment, the side door of the hall opened.
Glorious Godfrey, the Minister of Propaganda stationed on Earth by Darkseid, walked in quickly.
He held a data pad in his hand, his expression grim.
"Son of Krypton, you must see this."
Godfrey tossed the data pad into the air, and a holographic image unfolded in the center of the hall.
"This is footage extracted from the visual nerves of a Parademon on the front lines."
In the footage.
A red and blue figure was hovering above a massive fire pit, the stars and stripes cape behind him billowing in the heat waves.
"Who is that?" an Apokoliptian general exclaimed.
The man on the screen moved.
There were no fancy movements; his eyes simply lit up.
Two crimson beams of Heat Vision, like swords of judgment, sliced through the protective shell of the World Forge Factory without resistance, detonating the energy core.
Boom—!
A massive explosion engulfed the screen.
The scene switched again.
This time it was in a prisoner-of-war camp, where countless Parademons swarmed the man like locusts.
A contemptuous smile hung on the man's lips as he easily tore through the Parademon lines. His flight was elegant yet violent, and every punch was accompanied by the burst of a sonic boom cloud.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The bodies of the Parademons exploded one after another in the air.
Finally, the image froze on the blonde man hovering in mid-air, holding a Parademon's head in his hand.
"This guy... has the same power as you, the same Heat Vision, and even his flight posture is extremely similar."
Godfrey stared at Superman's face, his tone laced with suspicion.
"Lord Darkseid asked me to ask you..."
"Are you hiding something about our Kryptonian compatriots from us?"
That Golden Eagle Emblem on the chest, that stars and stripes cape—he was certain this wasn't the Kryptonian attire from his memory.
But that power... without a doubt, it was the power of a Kryptonian.
"No," Superman denied coldly. "Krypton has been destroyed. I am the last one."
"Then who is this guy?" Godfrey questioned. "Don't tell me this is some product of human genetic mutation."
"Bruce..." a name escaped softly from Superman's mouth.
"You finally crossed that line after all."
In his view, the only explanation was that Batman, Bruce Wayne, had secretly collected his genetic samples to create a clone.
"Principles?" Superman let out a sneer, the red light in his eyes flaring up. "As expected, in the face of survival, your principles are worthless."
"Where is he?"
"According to the last transmitted message, his last located position was in Kansas..." Godfrey glanced at the data, "...Smallville."
"Smallville..."
Hearing this name, Clark's emotionless eyes flickered for a moment.
"Since he is there..."
"Boom—!"
Clark's figure instantly vanished from the throne... Meanwhile, over the past seven or eight hours, Homelander had been tirelessly rescuing countless refugees held in concentration camps.
At every location, Harley would carry a camera to record every brilliant moment.
Beside the fire pits of the Amazon Rainforest, he used Heat Vision to evaporate countless Parademons, then landed before the enslaved humans and personally unlocked their shackles.
Every movement, every look, was meticulously designed.
"Is the footage enough, sweetheart?"
"Enough! It's simply perfect!"
Harley excitedly reviewed the footage in the camera and gave Homelander a thumbs up.
"I have to say, Mr. Milk Candy, your acting... those guys in Hollywood winning Oscars aren't even worthy of carrying your shoes. That scene in the concentration camp just now, where you held that dirty little kid and cried... tsk tsk, even I almost believed it."
"That was a genuine expression of emotion, Harley." Homelander rubbed Harley's head. "My love for children is sincere."
"Yes, yes, yes, you're the most sincere," Harley giggled. "Where are we going next?"
"It's time to go blow that imposter's head off." The corner of Homelander's mouth quirked up... Smallville, Kansas.
This place once had rolling waves of golden wheat; it was the softest part of Superman's hometown in his heart.
But now, only a scorched wasteland remained.
The house on the Kent Farm had long since collapsed, with only a few charred beams stubbornly pointing toward the sky.
"This place looks real depressing."
Harley Quinn carried several cameras modified by Cyborg and fixed them in various positions as Homelander requested.
"This is his home."
Homelander used his toe to kick aside a fragment of a mailbox engraved with the name 'Kent.'
"For that imposter, this is where everything began, and where everything ends. There is no place more suitable than here to hold his funeral."
"Tsk tsk, so this is that Alien Boy Scout's old home? No wonder he's a psychopath. A godforsaken place like this, I'd be depressed too."
"Are you ready, Little Pumpkin?"
"Standing by, Officer!" Harley gave a makeshift military salute and then pressed her communicator. "Robot Boy, how's it going over there?"
Hundreds of kilometers away,
Cyborg was accessing the global satellite network, a massive stream of data cascading through his eyes like a waterfall.
"I've bypassed Apokolips' firewall," Cyborg's voice came through the encrypted channel. "It wasn't easy; their encryption algorithm is based on mother box code... the good news is, I am a Son of the Mother Box."
"I've hijacked all global satellite signals, radio stations, and those propaganda screens the Parademons use for brainwashing."
"Signal coverage... 99.99%."
"Now, the entire Earth is your stage, Homelander."
Homelander adjusted his breathing, closed his eyes, and composed himself for three seconds.
When he opened his eyes again, his deep blue eyes were filled with heartbreaking affection and world-weariness.
"Action!" Harley pressed the start button... At this moment.
Whether it was the refugees hiding deep in the ruins, the prisoners held in concentration camps waiting for 're-education,' or the resistance fighters clutching their guns and guarding the trenches in despair.
They were surprised to find that the screens, which usually only broadcast Darkseid's doctrines and footage of Superman executing prisoners, suddenly flickered.
Countless radio stations and receivers simultaneously played a piece of orchestral music that was stirring, tragic, yet full of hope.
And on the screens, a montage sequence flashed rapidly.
It was Homelander's achievements over the past few hours.
Before the fire pits of the Amazon Rainforest, he used Heat Vision to blast the energy cores;
In the concentration camps of Paris, he tore open electromagnetic doors weighing dozens of tons with his bare hands, holding a bruised and battered little girl while weeping silently;
Amidst the ruins of London, he shredded countless Parademons, the stars and stripes cape behind him snapping in the smoke.
Every shot perfectly hit the beat of the background music, combined with slow-motion close-ups, showcasing an unparalleled aesthetic of violence.
Finally, the image froze.
The background was the desolate, scorched Earth of Smallville.
Homelander stood in the center of the frame, the wind slightly ruffling his blonde hair. His gaze was melancholy yet firm as he looked directly into the camera, as if staring into the depths of everyone's soul.