Chapter 50 the greatest hero in the world

"How… how can you be like this…"

Maeve had long known he didn't truly care about human life—but now, seeing the impending death of over a hundred people and his complete indifference, fury burned in her eyes.

"How dare you criticize someone like Infinite for playing superhero in a cape—"

She hadn't been fond of Infinite and his privileged rise into The Seven either, but wasn't Homelander's hypocrisy even more vile?

"Let me make this clear—I do whatever I want."

Like a tantrum-throwing child caught misbehaving, Homelander snapped, pointing a finger in Maeve's face.

"I'm Homelander—the greatest superhero on Earth! No one does it better than me. Without me, you, Infinite, The Deep—all of you would be rotting in the Vought Tower doing nothing!"

He raised both arms, shouting wildly like an unhinged tyrant. His overwhelming presence forced Maeve to step back.

"If I can't save this plane, no one can. This damn plane is going down!"

Homelander was the very definition of a man-child—but the terrifying kind. A man-child with godlike power. If he lost control, he could reduce a city to rubble like it was made of toy blocks. As he loomed closer in rage, how could anyone not be terrified?

Maeve's face went pale. She took a step back—completely hopeless.

Homelander was right. If he wouldn't save the plane, then no one else on Earth could.

"Mommy… are we going to die?"

A little girl buried her face in her mother's chest, her butterfly hair clip trembling with her sobs. The woman clutched her child tightly, tears streaming down her colorless face.

An elderly woman clutched a cross to her chest. Young couples embraced for a final kiss, swearing to find each other in the next life.

In this steel prison in the sky, two superheroes argued, ignoring everyone else. Despair spread like wildfire.

But then…

The violently shaking plane suddenly steadied—as if something had caught it mid-fall.

"Tell me, Maeve! Why can't you just let this go?"

Homelander, still fuming at being challenged, grabbed her wrist. His grip made her bones ache.

But Maeve winced and looked out the window. Her eyes widened.

The plane's plunge was slowing. The nose was no longer diving straight down.

It couldn't be… a miracle?

Maeve stood in stunned silence.

"Hey! Maeve! Look at me!"

Homelander was still yelling. "This damn plane's about to crash—we need to leave the scene immediately! Got it?!

No one can know we were ever here, or that this rescue failed!—"

"No need," Maeve interrupted. "Haven't you noticed? The plane's not falling anymore. Someone more worthy of being called a superhero is here to save them!"

She pointed toward the front of the plane.

"What?"

"No way. The force of the plane's descent is easily hundreds of tons. Even I—"

Homelander started to scoff, but turned and looked—and his voice caught in his throat.

He saw a figure standing before the nose of the falling plane, bracing it mid-air, stopping its plunge.

A striking black-and-white suit with a white cape fluttering behind him. His face was young, impossibly handsome.

"Infinite?"

No—that's impossible!

Homelander was stunned.

As he stared, the figure turned to look through the glass—his eyes filled with mocking contempt.

There was no surprise on his face at the dire situation. It was as if he had fully expected Homelander to screw everything up.

Below, near the coast, a baseball game was in full swing. A batter readied himself, totally focused—until something above caught his eye.

A black speck rapidly expanded in the sky, heading straight for the stadium.

"Is that a bird?" he squinted against the glare of the setting sun.

"No… That's a plane!"

A teammate's glove fell from his hands as he stared in disbelief.

In the bleachers, the crowd was absorbed in everyday joy. Families shared popcorn, kids chased each other with hot dogs, and couples kissed in the sunset—until the scream of a crashing plane tore through the sky.

"A plane—it's coming right at us!"

Someone stood up, stunned. Another screamed. The crowd erupted in chaos, scattering like startled ants.

A boy wearing a Chicago Cubs cap clung tightly to the chain-link fence, his dilated pupils reflecting the image of a smoke-spewing, crashing plane hurtling directly toward him.

The cheerleaders in short skirts huddled together, trembling. The incident happened too suddenly—the organizers stood there in shock and despair.

Everyone's minds went completely blank.

"Look! Someone caught the plane!" someone suddenly shouted, pointing to the sky.

Before their eyes, a figure streaked across the sky, defying gravity as it shot upward.

The terrifying force of a passenger jet carrying over a hundred people plummeting from tens of thousands of feet—all of it crashed down onto a single human body.

Man versus natural disaster.

BOOM!

Two silhouettes, one large and one small, collided mid-air. At the moment of impact, a shockwave exploded outward. The resulting energy rippled visibly along the plane's fuselage, spreading all the way to the tail.

Miraculously, the plane's descent began to slow.

And it didn't break apart.

"Oh my God!"

As the crowd stared at the figure in the white cape, their hearts leapt to their throats.

The plane was still falling, but the hero's silhouette was straining to counteract its momentum—carefully balancing it, ensuring it neither crashed into the ground nor shattered from a sudden stop.

Violent winds tore through the stadium, lifting the home plate into the air.

When the plane was just meters from the ground, and it seemed like an explosion was inevitable, some people instinctively ducked and turned away in fear.

SCREECH!

With a metallic groan, the nose of the plane crumpled as the strength behind it abruptly gave out.

It stopped.

Under everyone's stunned gaze, the figure in black armor used his shoulder to prop up the plane's immense weight, slowly lowering it until it rested flat on the field.

Compared to the jetliner, the human figure looked like an ant stopping a falling steel beam. The sheer visual impact was overwhelming.

It felt like witnessing a miracle.

"Heaven above…"

An old man removed his cap in disbelief. Some even collapsed to their knees, weeping in emotional release.

[Conquest Points +0.13]

[Conquest Points +86]

[Conquest Points +0.18] …

Russell gently set the plane down in the center of the stadium. Sunlight pierced through the thick smoke, bathing his towering figure in a shimmering golden glow. His cape billowed in the wind, like a god descending to earth.

"Who is he? He saved us!"

"God, if not for him, how many people in this stadium would still be alive?"

"I know him! He's that new superhero—Infinity!" someone shouted, pointing at the figure on the field.

"Infinity?"

"Infinity! Infinity!"

In the crowd, the boy in the baseball cap shouted the name along with his father.

Tens of thousands of eyes were locked onto the same figure, tens of thousands of arms waved, and tens of thousands of mouths chanted the same name. The thunderous roar swept through the stadium like a tsunami, audible for miles.

[Conquest Points +0.14]

[Conquest Points +0.16]

[Conquest Points +0.12] …

The system notification of conquest points rained down like a waterfall.

Though the stadium was filled with ordinary people, they had all just witnessed Russell catch a crashing plane right in front of them—an act of divine strength that saved every life present.

Their souls trembled with awe and gratitude. The emotional impact was so powerful, some felt the urge to fall to their knees in reverence.

"As the saying goes: seeing is believing, but experiencing it firsthand is a whole different level."

In mere moments, Russell had accumulated thousands of Conquest Points, and the number continued to skyrocket. He smirked slightly, flew to the plane, and tore open the heavy cabin door with his bare hands.

His backlit silhouette looked like it was cloaked in divine radiance. The passengers inside were stunned into silence, reluctant to disturb the sacred atmosphere—until one voice cried out, followed by an eruption of cheers.

"Hurrah! You saved us, Infinity!"

"You're a hero—the greatest hero in the world!"

"Are you an angel? A godsent?"

Some passengers trembled as they reached out toward him, overcome with emotion, as though seeing a deity.

"Is everyone alright?"

Russell walked through the cabin, his gentle voice soothing every passenger. Grateful hands brushed against him one by one.

"You saved them, Infinity.

How did you do it?"

In the cockpit, Maeve—still visibly shaken—stepped forward with genuine admiration.

"Even Homelander couldn't stop that crash…"

She spoke from the heart, without thinking.

But at those words, Homelander's face darkened like he'd been slapped in public. His expression twisted as he stared daggers at Russell.

At the cockpit door, Russell smiled calmly, acting as if the most powerful superhuman in the world—who looked ready to kill—was nothing worth noticing. He waved casually to the cheering passengers.

"Just a biological force field, that's all."

As a Unopan engineered super-soldier created by Allen to protect his planet from Viltrumites, Russell's abilities weren't just for combat—they were designed for rescue too.

Even Viltrumites lacked such powerful bio-fields. But Allen had one.

So did Russell.

As long as he enveloped the entire plane in his biological field, he didn't need to worry about damage. A few hundred, even a thousand tons of force, was meaningless.

Russell had only pretended to struggle—to tug at the crowd's heartstrings.

Even his timing was intentionally perfect.

"Infinity… Infinity…"

Just moments ago, Homelander had mocked this man with smug disdain.

"It's all fake. All of it."

But now, the roaring chants outside the plane rang in his ears like repeated slaps. Homelander, skilled as he was in public performance, knew this scene all too well.

With one glance, he could tell that Russell was now the star of the stage—every movement meticulously calculated for maximum effect.

But Russell was better. Far better. This dramatic rescue—world-shaking, flawless—was something Homelander couldn't have dreamed of pulling off himself.

"You're not a real hero!"

Unable to contain his jealousy and rage, Homelander stormed forward, jabbing his finger at Russell's chest.

"Oh? I'm not the hero—even though I saved everyone?

Then I suppose you are? You who saved no one… who only made things worse like a blundering fool?"

Russell's gaze was calm, like someone staring at a well-known clown. He simply chuckled.

"What did you say?!"

Humiliated and mocked so openly, Homelander's eyes began to glow with dangerous red light.

Anyone else would've collapsed in terror at that sight. Even Maeve, standing to the side, felt her breath hitch—her instincts screaming that Homelander was about to lose control.

"Touched a nerve?"

Russell remained unfazed. Somehow, those two simple words stung far more than a lengthy taunt.

That was the last straw.

Homelander's forehead bulged with veins, and his expression suddenly turned chilling. He raised his chin slightly, crimson light almost bursting from his eyes.

"No—!"

Maeve's expression shifted dramatically. She rushed forward, trying to stop him. She knew all too well—that look meant murder.

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