Hand Of God

Chapter 80 He’s lying

Within moments, a squad of soldiers in full combat uniforms rushed in, gripping riot batons and shields, forming a tense perimeter like they were facing a biohazard.

To ordinary civilians, even superhumans—beings they usually saw as near-invincible—now looked vulnerable. If they were collapsing from a single touch, what chance did regular people have?

“Ahh! Wait—what are you doing? I didn’t even touch him!” the woman shrieked, her act crumbling in real time.

“He’s—he’s lying!!”

For the first time, her confidence cracked. She’d spent a lifetime playing the system, using emotional theatrics to get her way—only to be outplayed by a kid who could out-act her tenfold.

Damn it! This brat’s even better at this than I am!

Tears and snot still streaked her face as she flailed, shouting desperate denials—but no one believed her anymore.

After all, who’d believe that a polished, elite young superhuman—admired, gifted, and barely out of adolescence—would stoop to something so petty and absurd?

Unfortunately for her… Kenny was that absurd.

“Stay back!” Kenny gasped from the ground, voice weak but urgent. “Don’t get close to her! Watch yourselves!”

He looked like he was on death’s door—yet somehow still had the breath to direct the tactical officers on proper containment protocol.

And between labored breaths, he kept shooting Adam exaggerated winks.

The soldiers didn’t hesitate. Using reinforced anti-riot forks, they pinned the woman facedown onto the concrete, holding her at a distance with brutal efficiency.

She’d spent years weaponizing “humanitarian” leniency—throwing tantrums, screaming injustice, then taking advantage. No one had ever treated her like a genuine threat.

Until now.

No one held back.

The steel forks locked her in place. As she thrashed, dirt coated her clothes and hair. Her already weak teeth slammed into the pavement—several chipped or shattered on impact.

Rubber batons rained down on her limbs, leaving deep purple welts. After all, they’d just witnessed a superhuman nearly die from a light tap. If that’s what a brush of skin could do… better to err on the side of overwhelming force.

She stopped resisting soon enough—too terrified to move, too pained to scream. They dragged her away, limp and silent.

Sapphire and the others stood stunned. They’d fought Acolytes, faced Deities—but this? This raw, chaotic theater of human pettiness? It was something else entirely.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. He finally understood.

He strode over and knelt beside Kenny.

“Quick—ask for the payoff,” Kenny hissed under his breath.

“Huh?” Adam blinked.

“You i***t!” Kenny whispered furiously, his “seizure” intensifying from sheer frustration. “Make demands! Get us something good!”

Adam: ???

Their eyes met.

And in that instant, Adam’s respect for Kenny skyrocketed.

Ah. This is the craft.

Without missing a beat, Adam dropped to his knees, grabbed Kenny’s arm dramatically, and shouted—loud enough for every reporter to hear:

“Kenny! Hang on! Medical’s coming!”

“You just passed your graduation trial at Orienta University! You were about to make your parents proud, give back to society!”

“And now—just because you took on some PR gig for the organizers—you’re like this?! You’re so young, Kenny Brown! Think of your family! Your loved ones! Fight!”

Adam had zero acting training—but in that moment, he channeled every soap opera, every tragedy he’d ever half-watched while gaming. His voice cracked with “grief.” Tears practically shimmered in his eyes.

It was devastating. Heart-wrenching. Like Kenny might exhale his last breath any second.

Kenny’s eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction—and his convulsions became even more theatrical.

The organizer—the stout man in the cheap suit—was now drenched in cold sweat, watching live feeds from a dozen news cameras.

Diana and the others just stood there, shell-shocked, unsure whether to call an ambulance or applaud.

It looked dire… so why did it feel like they were watching a Broadway farce?

One hour later.

At the Crown Hotel—the city’s only seven-star establishment—Adam’s team lounged in luxury.

The organizers had splurged, booking multiple presidential suites to smooth things over.

Kenny, freshly showered and wrapped in an oversized robe, sat back in a leather lounger, swirling a glass of expensive red wine.

“Ahhh… now we’re talking,” he sighed contentedly. “Field missions should always come with perks. This? This is the right way to do business.”

Before him stood Adam, Diana, Sapphire, and the rest—staring at him with expressions far more complex than when they’d arrived.

After a pause, Diana stepped forward. “Thank you… for what you did today.”

“Pfft. Child’s play,” Kenny waved a hand. “You should’ve listened to me from the start. This whole mess? Could’ve been avoided.”

“You really think the organizers are innocent? They rushed this press event for clicks and drama—skimped on security, ignored protocols. Of course someone got through.”

“But hey,” he added with a shrug, “we got what we wanted: better accommodations, full cooperation, and probably a nice bonus.”

Silence followed. No one argued. Despite his obnoxious grin and shameless swagger, their view of Kenny had shifted—irrevocably.

“Hey,” Kenny called out suddenly, squinting toward the back of the room. “You—what’s your name again? You okay?”

All eyes turned to Sapphire.

She sat hunched in a chair, head bowed, shoulders trembling slightly.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, voice thick with unshed tears.

“I didn’t use any force,” she whispered. “Their teeth… they broke them themselves—biting lampposts, concrete… I tried to stop them, but I barely touched them!”

“They were hitting me with streetlights… and I didn’t fight back. Not once.”

Her voice cracked. “I was trying to protect them… so why would she do that to me?”

Kenny set his wine glass down.

He stood, walked over slowly, and crouched in front of her.

“The world isn’t black and white,” he said, uncharacteristically gentle. “Who gets to decide what a ‘good person’ looks like?”

“And who said that just because you risk your life for strangers… they owe you gratitude?”

Sapphire looked up, confused.

Kenny straightened, picked up his glass again, and laughed—a loud, unapologetic sound.

“Let me tell you something: Orienta’s still shielding you. In PR, I’ve seen this a thousand times.”

“You face Acolytes? Deities? You charge in without fear—because you know they’re the enemy.”

“But out here?” He gestured vaguely toward the city beyond the window. “Most threats don’t wear masks. They wear suits. Or tears. Or righteous outrage.”

“Against liars, bullies, shameless grifters? You need someone even more shameless.”

He strolled over to the floor-to-ceiling window on the 108th floor, the dying sun painting the skyline in gold.

“Of course,” he added, turning back with a smirk, “if the whole world were like me? We’d all be doomed. Might as well blow it up and start over.”

“But the world needs heroes. Needs people like you—pure, brave, willing to bleed for others.”

The sunset haloed him in light, casting a long shadow across the marble floor.

He grinned—that signature, infuriating, brilliant grin.

“So let you be the heroes.”

“And me?” He winked.

“I’ll be the bastard who makes sure you survive long enough to save the day.”