The Boys: Viltrumite Evolution Panel

Or perhaps an agent of the gods on earth.

"Great old gods! You have truly heard my prayers and responded to my call! Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Emmm... never mind, it’s just a codename!"

Lucas was too lazy to correct her; whether it was the old gods or New Gods, nobody cared about that.

"I need you to do plenty. In the future, the North will be swept into a war. Your husband is a political idiot, your children are naive, and your whole family was supposed to die in blood and fire!"

"But I have changed all of this. The raven of death has been dispelled, but the evil omen will eventually arrive. Winter is Coming!"

"Do you... understand?"

Lucas lowered his head to question her.

Catelyn Stark shuddered. "I... I understand!"

"Winter is Coming" is the motto of House Stark, a phrase accompanied by the legend of northern evil omens, specifically the legend of the White Walkers moving south.

Every member of House Stark would never forget it.

But because so much time had passed, the people of the North had forgotten the metaphor behind the story.

They treated the White Walkers as a joke to scare children.

But when these words came out of the mouth of a god, Catelyn Stark felt as if the blood in her veins had frozen.

"Correct, Winter is Coming! Your husband cannot keep fighting in the South. Go write him a letter and tell him! The god you worship requires him to summon the forces of the entire realm and surrender unconditionally!"

"I do not wish to see any acts of defiance, otherwise, I will take back the legs I bestowed upon Bran Stark!"

As the words fell, Lucas’s god-like figure disappeared from the room.

"Mother, he is gone!"

Catelyn Stark had been kneeling on the ground, and only after Bran Stark reminded her did she snap out of it.

Across the Narrow Sea.

Lucas’s trip there and back didn’t actually take much effort.

It took an hour at most.

But in this short hour, in the mansion of Magister Illyrio, that Dothraki king of the plains had already arrived with his men.

Khal Drogo, rumored to be the most battle-hardened king of the Dothraki sea, fought better on horseback than on the ground.

At this moment.

This king sat in the drawing room, his hawk-like eyes scanning Daenerys Targaryen without concealment.

White hair, purple eyes, skin as fair as milk, and extremely beautiful features.

Although Khal Drogo did not speak, he had already taken a fancy to the mare Illyrio had prepared for him.

A moment later.

Khal Drogo suddenly stood up, said nothing, and turned to leave with his entourage.

Viserys panicked immediately.

He grabbed Illyrio and asked urgently, "Why did he leave? Did he take a fancy to Daenerys Targaryen or not?"

Illyrio revealed a meaningful smile.

"Your Grace, do not worry! If Khal Drogo had not taken a fancy to your sister, he would have indicated so!"

"Great!"

Viserys was relieved.

Outside the city of Pentos, the camp of the Dothraki army.

Thousands of fierce grassland cavalry were waiting for their Khal to return.

Khal Drogo mounted his horse and spoke in Dothraki in a low voice with several bloodriders beside him.

Lucas couldn’t understand a word.

However, this did not hinder him from doing business.

He flashed and appeared out of thin air at the very front of this army, blocking their path with the power of one man.

The army of thousands stopped abruptly.

Those arrogant grassland cavalrymen had never seen anyone so bold as to block the front of the Khal’s horse.

One of Khal Drogo’s subordinates immediately urged his horse forward, raised the long whip in his hand, and lashed it fiercely at Lucas, shouting something, seemingly cursing in Dothraki.

The whip hadn’t even touched Lucas.

Lucas backhanded him with a slap.

The cavalryman, along with his horse, was sent flying three hundred and sixty degrees by this slap, smashed into the grass in the distance, and died on the spot.

"Oh, I forgot to withdraw the Bio-field!"

Lucas had wanted to shatter the opponent with one slap, but accidentally left a whole corpse.

The deterrent effect hadn’t been achieved!

The entire opposing army became restless.

Lucas’s slaughter began here.

He didn’t use too much power. With his strength, a full-force punch could send this planet back to its primitive state; a few punches, and this world would collapse!

So he had to hold back his strength.

Lucas turned into an afterimage that the naked eye of a mortal could not capture, shuttling through the army of thousands.

Cosplaying as Homelander!

He grabbed the Horse Lord’s ankle, threw him casually, and smashed the king of the plains onto the ground, instantly refining him into a pool of meat paste.

Lucas looked at the foot in his hand, his wrist shook slightly, and the foot pierced through, continuously piercing an entire row of Dothraki cavalry.

Lucas’s figure flickered in the crowd.

Every time he appeared, a cavalryman, along with his horse, was smashed to pieces, and blood and broken limbs splashed on the grassland.

The proud grassland warriors were as fragile as straw in front of him.

Thousands of arrows attacked like a downpour.

But Lucas opened his arms, letting the arrowheads hit his steel body; he didn’t even feel a thing.

The grassland cavalry waved their scimitars, were sucked over by him, twisted directly into a ball of iron, and then thrown out like baseballs.

Swish swish swish swish swish swish!!!

Viltrumite hand blade!

Flying kick!

Neck twist!

This was not a battle.

This was a bloody massacre.

Fear spread like a plague, but Lucas had no pity. Dothraki cavalry were notorious on the grassland, not to mention to other Free Cities.

In a short moment.

The green grassland was dyed a striking scarlet.

Years later, this place was named the Land of Blood Descent.

But now.

The Dothraki army of thousands was reduced to half in the blink of an eye under Lucas’s slaughter.

Only then did Lucas stop.

The remaining half of the cavalry were scared out of their wits by the hellish scene.

Corpses piled up like mountains all around.

The opponent didn’t even have a trace of blood on him, just standing there indifferently, yet he was more terrifying than any ghost.

No one dared to resist.

"Thump, thump..."

They rode their horses to flee. For every one that ran, Lucas burned them to ashes with Heat Vision.

The cool thing about Omega Beams is just that; he doesn’t need to move at all. The Heat Vision bends automatically, and combined with biological sensing, it can accurately hit anyone. It is simply the ultimate way to show off.

The remaining Dothraki could only kneel on the ground, not daring to flee, shaking like chaff.

Where was the momentum of the arrogant soldiers from before?

Lucas looked around with satisfaction.

He was about to speak when he suddenly remembered that he didn’t seem to know a word of Dothraki.

Hiss!!!

"System! Is there a language patch for this world? Load one for me, or how am I supposed to communicate with these natives?"

[Requirement detected, loading the language pack for this world for the host...]

[Loaded: Common Tongue, Valyrian (High and Low), Dothraki, Ghiscari, Summer Islands language, various Free City dialects, Ancient First Men language...]

[Language pack loaded]

In an instant, countless strange syllables, grammar, and vocabulary flooded into Lucas’s mind and were instantly digested by him.

Damn it!

If I had had you this convenient back then, would I have needed to memorize ’abandon’?!

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