Chapter 52 When did God ever make mistakes?

Media outlets everywhere ran wild with headlines:

The New York Times: Man of Steel—Infinity Saves Hundreds Alone!

The Washington Post: This Time, a Hero Stepped Up—Infinity Stopped the Tragedy Before It Began!

Social media exploded. The hashtag #InfinityManHero topped global trends. People shared blurry phone clips—the moment he lifted the plane, his silhouette against the sunset, rescued passengers breaking into tears.

In Times Square, the rescue scene played on giant screens. Crowds stopped to watch, raising phones and fists, chanting the hero's name.

Everything about Infinity became a global talking point.

At the White House, the press secretary held an emergency briefing. The President intended to award Infinity Man the Medal of Freedom—the highest civilian honor, never before granted to a superhuman.

In New York, people gathered outside Vought Tower holding signs reading: Infinity Man, You're Our Hero.

Street vendors sold T-shirts and hats bearing the Infinity logo. Children drew crayon pictures of the black-suited hero.

The rescued passengers became sought-after guests on talk shows, recounting the miraculous event.

One tearful mother recalled, "I held my daughter, thinking it was over… and then he came. Like a ray of light, he pulled us out of hell."

A trembling old woman declared, "It was God's will. Infinity Man… he's different. He's a messenger sent by Heaven."

A young couple choked up: "We were supposed to die on that plane… but he gave us a second life."

Even baseball fans in the stadium chimed in. A boy in a cap said he wanted to be a firefighter when he grew up—to save lives like Infinity Man.

Meanwhile, Homelander's disastrous behavior during the hijacking and his poor attitude afterward sparked intense backlash.

On talk shows, guests clashed in heated debate. Some argued Homelander and Maeve still took down the terrorists—but others said two or three armed men weren't a big deal for a whole team of superheroes.

If someone else had been on the job, things might've gone smoother.

Without Homelander's reckless heat vision, the plane wouldn't have been in danger in the first place. And there had even been a spare pilot onboard—a Vought employee on vacation—who might have landed the plane safely.

Online arguments raged. Old footage of Homelander's past "rescues" resurfaced—always overly violent, often endangering civilians, killing suspects whose crimes didn't warrant death.

In just a few days, Homelander's perfect image shattered. He became a hero mired in controversy and mixed opinions.

Strangely, his once overwhelming online fanbase—the swarm that could drown out all criticism—suddenly shrank.

Vought's long-crafted saintly image for Homelander began to unravel in a tide of fierce public reckoning.

Conquest Points: 18,902

"Sir, Stormfront is back."

Inside the penthouse, Edgar entered with a report. Russell, in a good mood, turned his attention away from the ever-climbing counter on the screen.

"She's here now. Just found me and said she wants to join The Seven."

"Oh?" Russell raised an eyebrow.

At a time like this?

"How's Homelander?"

"He threw a massive tantrum after returning to the tower. Smashed a bunch of stuff. Then he confronted me, demanded to know why Vought PR wasn't defending him yet. Asked if I was acting under your orders," Edgar said calmly.

"I told him bluntly that this was all his own fault. Too many people saw him damage the plane.

He recently leaked Compound V. Vought raised him, but we owe him nothing. He has no right to ask us for anything…"

Since then, Homelander had locked himself in his room—swinging between despair and rage, pacing with a dark face like a lion caged in a circus, desperate to escape but afraid of the whip.

"Sir, Homelander's emotions are becoming increasingly unstable. He's on the verge of losing control."

Edgar thought it was worth a warning.

Russell just nodded. Homelander's reaction was exactly as expected.

And Stormfront showing up now? Likely trying to exploit the situation, hoping to cozy up to Homelander again and peddle her Aryan superhuman supremacy ideology.

Knock knock.

"Find a room. Bring Stormfront to see me later." Russell tapped the desk, his voice cold.

Stormfront was among the strongest supers below Homelander and Soldier Boy. He wasn't sure if his mind control could maintain control over her for long.

Kate Dunlap had brainwashed Golden Boy multiple times, but in the end, he remembered everything.

And this deranged woman who dreamed of forming a superhuman army to slaughter all of humanity? Russell had no intention of wasting effort on her.

Better to make her disappear altogether.

She was just a clown looking for opportunity. Easily crushed.

Russell had other priorities.

"How's the temporary superhuman team project going?"

"Sir, in the past few days, we've screened death row inmates from several U.S. prisons. We've tested them with a few minutes' dose of the serum. Most showed mediocre results. Two inmates, however, may prove useful…"

Edgar spoke up.

He desperately wanted to complete this task for his supreme master, but reality doesn't bend to personal will.

Two people were still a long way from forming a full team.

Given the time needed to settle federal-state agreements, sign contracts with prisons, and reallocate Vought personnel to ensure control over these individuals, screening that many prisons in just a few days was already quite fast.

"Two? Do either of them have flight capabilities?"

"One does. The other can sort of fly, but not very fast."

Tapping his fingers rhythmically on the desk, Russell's eyes flickered with thought. After a brief pause, he made a decision.

"Find a location. Get those two inmates ready. Take Storm to meet them. I want to see their abilities firsthand."

"Yes, sir."

Two people weren't much, but it was enough for now. He still had a few "special candidates" in reserve.

As long as these two could meet even the bare minimum expectations, Russell was ready to make his move against Homelander.

Living next to an egotistical, volatile man-child was unbearable unless you constantly bowed and scraped to please him. And even then, he was intolerable.

Despite only meeting Homelander twice, Russell already found him deeply repulsive.

No one in his company would be allowed to grow arrogant enough to dare threaten him.

"We love you, Infinite Man! You're the hero of the new generation!"

"Homelander is a butcher. Many who hadn't even committed capital crimes died by his hands—stripped of their second chance at life."

"Sources say Homelander is actually arrogant and indifferent to life. In the process of apprehending criminals, he's mistakenly killed countless innocent civilians…"

"Recently, the White House announced plans to award the Presidential Medal of Freedom to the superhuman Infinite Man—an unprecedented honor even Homelander has never received."

Inside Vought Tower, in the luxurious apartment where Homelander resided, he lay naked on the sofa, limbs sprawled out, eyes locked on the TV.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen.

Clips praising Infinite Man alternated with harsh criticism of him.

Homelander's expression shifted constantly in the glow of the screen, as though suffering from a mental breakdown.

At times, he looked like a child wronged by injustice. At other times, like a lion enraged by an intruder. One moment, he radiated crushing loneliness. The next, a murderous glint flickered in his eyes like a demonic killer ready to lash out.

Anyone witnessing such a terrifying sight would feel a chill run down their spine.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

"The strongest superhuman in the world, holed up in his room for days—hard to imagine what could possibly keep you tied down."

A woman clad in combat gear, her sharp hairstyle exuding a fierce aura, strolled in casually—like it was her own garden. She glanced around the nearly wrecked apartment with practiced ease.

Seeing the fully naked Homelander didn't faze her in the slightest. She regarded him like a mature woman would a small child.

"I've heard that some people like to strip completely when under pressure—as if returning to the womb. It helps relieve anxiety."

"Who are you?!" Homelander's eyes lit up red with warning. Being intruded upon and scrutinized like that made him instantly hostile.

"Relax, Homelander. I'm here to help you!"

Storm smiled.

"Help me? I don't need help from anyone." Homelander's tone dripped with killing intent. He enunciated each word coldly:

"I don't care who you are. You've got three seconds to get out—or I'll turn you into a charred corpse and have someone haul you away."

"Of course, of course. Homelander is the strongest superhero in the world. Nothing can possibly stand in your way."

Storm's smile was soft, maternal, and tinged with seductive charm—like a mother comforting a sulking child. She gently lay beside him and placed a hand on his chest.

"But even God can make mistakes—walking a wrong path without realizing it."

Her voice was gentle, like a lullaby sung by a mother soothing her child, making it hard to feel any hostility.

As she leaned closer, Homelander noticed for the first time that this woman had the mature, maternal air of someone who had borne children. It was the kind of woman he was most drawn to—far more alluring than even Madelyn. The grace and sensuality she exuded in every movement made Madelyn seem like a timid schoolgirl by comparison.

Still, his mood remained dark and unstable. He hadn't fired his lasers yet, but his expression stayed sour.

"How ridiculous. God never makes mistakes!"

Homelander's tone didn't sound like a devout believer defending God—but rather like a narcissist proclaiming himself God, infallible and above all doubt.

Storm smiled faintly, her eyes glowing with delight. She continued coaxing him.

"No, Homelander. Even God has made mistakes."

Although her words contradicted him, Homelander's expression softened slightly upon hearing that even God had erred.

"When did God ever make mistakes? Walk a wrong path unknowingly?"

He was skeptical. After all, this contradicted the popular image of an omnipotent, wise deity.

"God didn't just make a mistake. His mistake was so great that it filled him with regret."

A flicker of madness glinted in Storm's eyes—like a devil whispering temptation. Her voice carried a seductive power as she leaned in.

"Fortunately, He realized it in time. He corrected His mistake with a great flood—cleansing the world of what He despised.

Only the chosen righteous, faithful to Him, were spared. Through them, humanity began anew. He righted His wrongs…

and finally shaped the world into what He desired."

"You're saying God's mistake was creating humans… and He destroyed the world to correct it? That doesn't sound wrong. It's basically what the Bible says."

Homelander frowned. It felt like he had stumbled upon something profound.

He hadn't made any grand mistake like creating humanity. Nor did he possess that kind of power.

But as someone who felt increasingly unloved, increasingly isolated… God's method of "correcting mistakes" sparked a dangerous kind of inspiration in him.

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