Reigning Over Washington

Washington, United States.

Since this was not the city where hero Kyle had risen to fame—New York—the marching crowds had not yet reached the terrifying extent of filling the entire city.

Yet near Central City, it was still packed and deafeningly chaotic. At the White House plaza, where America’s top brass was about to make a public address, the inner three rings beyond the security line around the speaking platform had long been claimed by throngs of media outlets. Beyond the outer three rings and farther still, the sea of people stretched beyond sight.

Among the onlookers, a boy of around seven clutched a Kyle battle-suit figurine in one hand and tightly gripped the trouser leg of the man beside him with the other. Anxiously, he asked, "Dad, did Hero Kyle really die?"

"How could that be?" The man smiled, vigorously ruffling the boy’s short hair. "Major General Kyle won’t die!"

The people crowded around them all laughed and chimed in.

"Exactly. How could a War Hero die?"

"He’s a Superhero. He suppressed the chaos of war—he’s a god in our hearts."

"Maybe he’s like the Captain, just sleeping somewhere. Once he wakes up, he’ll come back."

Whenever they spoke of Kyle, their faces lit up with smiles. They carried confidence, pride, and even the glimmer of hope.

The nearby media continued taking pictures and recording footage, documenting this rare scene. It was the first time someone’s prestige had been enough to replace the gods, revered by countless people without a single stain on his name.

"He’s here! He’s here!"

At the cry from within the plaza, all the marching spectators and reporters immediately turned their eyes toward the White House speaking platform.

A middle-aged new president with a square face walked at the front, leading a group of suited council members and generals in decorated military uniforms out of the office building under the protection of armed soldiers. They all stepped onto the rather spacious platform.

Several dozen council members and generals stopped in the rear half of the platform, their expressions solemn and grave. The onlookers instinctively fell silent.

The new president wiped the sweat from his forehead, stepped forward, and stopped before the amplified microphone. Facing the people and media beyond the police cordon below, he spoke in the usual politician’s tone. "Gentlemen and ladies, good afternoon!"

But his words were swiftly interrupted by the people below. "Mr. President, skip the pleasantries. We came here for an explanation and the truth—why hasn’t General Kyle returned yet?"

The new president quickly concealed his embarrassment, steadying the microphone with one hand as he began, "Major General Kyle, he…"

He had been ready to smoothly deliver the cover story the higher-ups had discussed earlier, but the moment he began speaking, he choked up and stopped.

Looking at the countless pairs of hopeful, expectant eyes below, even with his polished speaking skills, the new president found himself unable to say a word.

Just as the president was in a difficult position, the hum of rotors suddenly came from the sky nearby. Everyone looked up in surprise and saw a new type of aircraft with bamboo-copter wings slowly descending toward the platform in the White House plaza.

The armed soldiers and guards initially thought it was a terrorist attack and prepared to rush toward the platform to escort the officials away. But when they saw the tall figure appearing in the helicopter doorway, they immediately froze.

Or rather, everyone below froze, holding their breath and staring wide-eyed at the young man in battle attire standing at the aircraft door.

"It’s General Kyle…"

No one knew who shouted first, but the Washington plaza, which had fallen silent, instantly erupted with fervor!

"Our War Hero has returned!"

The people raised their arms high, their eyes damp as they cheered. The immense wave of sound rapidly spread outward, and soon the entire city of Washington resounded with joyous cries celebrating the hero’s return.

At that moment, the most awkward people were the high-ranking officials on the platform who had originally been the center of attention. They could only wear bitter smiles and applaud as they watched the helicopter draw nearer.

The helicopter stopped twenty meters above the platform and hovered in midair.

Kyle nodded and leaped down. He slowed himself slightly by gliding midway, then landed lightly in the center of the speaking platform.

Wearing the Night Suit and carrying his signature one-handed sword on his back, he stood tall and cold atop the platform. With the aura of a Superhero surrounding him, he immediately became the most dazzling figure present. Even the highest-ranking council members and generals had to bow their heads before him.

The thousands of people below were still overwhelmed with excitement, applauding like thunder.

"Major General Kyle, you’re finally back…"

The president turned around, intending to offer some friendly pleasantries, but Kyle did not even glance at him. He simply walked toward the council members and generals.

As the God of Slaughter approached, even generals who had lived through countless battles showed slight changes in expression. As for the council members who had spent their lives in sheltered comfort, their faces had gone pale.

Among them, Congressman Ivan and several other council members standing farther back clenched their hands nervously, suppressing the urge to collapse in fear.

"Kyle." General Chester sighed and stepped forward.

"General Chester, contrary to your wishes, I came back after all," Kyle said coldly, stopping in place.

"Kyle. No matter what you went through, it was all my fault. Please don’t hurt anyone else…" Before General Chester could finish, Kyle cut him off. "No, you weren’t wrong."

Kyle sneered. "You’re just senile."

General Chester fell silent. He did not argue back, his white hair making him look like a haggard old man.

The helicopter continued hovering at low altitude as a rope was thrown down from the cabin. Fury slid down it and landed on the platform.

The moment Howard learned of Kyle’s return, he had notified Fury, and Fury had hurried with him to the White House plaza in Washington.

Naturally, there was a purpose behind this.

"Fury, which ones did you find?" Kyle waved to Fury behind him and swept his gaze over the council members. They shuddered, having no idea what the War Hero intended to do so soon after returning.

"That one, that one, oh, and that one." Fury stepped forward, his sharp eyes searching as he pointed out three council members, including Ivan.

The three named council members trembled all over. The other council members and generals did not understand what was happening, but they instinctively moved away from the three, retreating to a safe distance.

"Oh." Kyle nodded coldly and walked toward the three council members.

"Major General Kyle, what are you trying to do? Don’t come any closer!" A flicker of panic passed through Ivan’s eyes as he shouted, "This is the White House plaza! We are council members and generals representing the nation, and we’re in full view of the public and media! Watch your behavior!"

Kyle sneered, then burst forward with a stomp. Before the armed soldiers around them could react, his right hand had already clenched into a fist and slammed into Ivan’s lower abdomen.

Bang!

With Ivan’s ordinary human body taking that punch carrying more than a ton of force head-on, he flew backward like a ball, tumbling five or six meters before smashing into the white wall of the office building.

His body was utterly ruined, half of it embedded in the wall. His eyes remained wide open; even in death, he could not understand how he had met such a simple, brutal end.

After plotting so carefully for so long, he had not even had the chance to resist… With a wet splat, Kyle had crushed him like a cockroach.