Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 509: The Havenridge Incident (Part 1)

Don waited by the tunnel mouth with his back against the wall, one boot planted flat, the other bent, sole pressed to it.

Starboy stood a few paces ahead, arms loose at his sides, gaze fixed down the dark. Pyro lingered closer to Don, shifting his weight from heel to toe like he was trying to bleed off nervous energy without admitting it.

Across the chamber, Charles and his group mirrored them. No one spoke. No one needed to.

Time stretched.

The hum of the mounted lights filled the space, broken only by the faint drip of moisture hitting stone.

Minutes passed.

Then Don's communicator vibrated against his collarbone.

"Alright," Elliot's voice came through, distorted but steady. "We're at the junction and about to proceed inside. Team one can move."

Don pushed off the wall and rolled his shoulders once. "Let's go."

Starboy frowned. "We heard him."

He stepped past Don and entered the tunnel first, brushing Don's shoulder as he did.

Don scoffed under his breath but didn't rise to it. There were better things to spend focus on than ego. This place didn't care who walked first.

Pyro glanced between the two of them, uncertainty flickering across his face.

Don gestured forward with two fingers. "Go."

Pyro nodded and moved after Starboy.

Don lingered a second longer, turning his head toward the other group. "Good luck."

Charles met his eyes. "You too."

Gigawatt raised a hand. "Likewise."

Frostbite didn't bother. She scoffed and looked away.

Don turned back toward the tunnel. 'Yeah,' he thought, stepping inside, 'fuck you too.'

The tunnel swallowed them quickly.

The walls bore marks of something torn away—ragged impressions where thick vines once clung, streaks of dried residue smeared across stone. Fleshy scraps had been scraped loose and piled against the sides, half-removed, half-forgotten.

The smell lingered anyway. Rot. Old blood. Something acidic beneath it all.

Pyro lifted his balaclava higher over his mouth and nose. "Damn," he muttered. "This place smells gnarly. Worse than fish guts."

Starboy didn't look back. "Tsk. And he's supposed to be the veteran."

Pyro shrugged, unfazed. "Hey, man. Noses got limits."

Don said nothing.

Despite Starboy's attitude, Don didn't mind the grouping. Arrogant, sure—but capable. Well-trained. And given who his father was, likely raised around operations like this whether he liked it or not.

They reached the junction without slowing and took the leftmost tunnel, boots never pausing.

Don tapped his comm. "Team one entering left tunnel. Team two clear to proceed."

The tunnel sloped downward at a steady incline, wide enough for three to walk abreast but tight enough to feel enclosed. The walls changed as they descended.

At first, there were only remnants—scratches, torn strands, stains.

Then the growth thickened.

Vines layered over one another, pressed into the walls like muscle packed too tightly. Human remains were embedded among them—bones bent at wrong angles, scraps of clothing fused into the mass.

The ground grew slick underfoot, tacky with residue. Dark fluid dripped from the walls in slow threads—plap… plap~—leaving streaks that glistened faintly in the low light.

The smell hit harder.

"If you can't see," Don said evenly, "flashlights on. These things pop out of anywhere."

He didn't need one.

Beastshift had been active long before they boarded the chopper. The dark meant little. Heat signatures stood out clearly. Airflow practically whispered its secrets. Even sound carried differently down here—too controlled. Too empty.

That bothered him.

Pyro didn't reach for a torch. Instead, he shook his head once, long hair falling loose around his shoulders.

Fire bloomed along the strands from root to tip.

Not wild. Not roaring.

Just there—bright, steady, controlled. The light filled the tunnel without blasting it, and Don noted the lack of heat immediately. Precision like that didn't come easy.

Starboy's eyes began to glow, pale and focused. He said nothing.

They walked.

Minutes blurred together. Every ten minutes, Don sent updates. Position. Condition. No contact. No changes.

Then they found the drones.

Metal shells lay twisted across the floor, frames torn open, circuitry exposed and blackened. One had been crushed flat, another ripped apart as if pulled from two ends and discarded.

Starboy crouched, running his fingers over a jagged edge. "Looks like we're close."

Don raised his comm. "Command, we've located destroyed drones—"

Static answered him.

He frowned and tried again. Nothing but crackle—krrrsshh~.

Pyro tilted his head. "Looks like comms are out," he said lightly. "Bummer."

Starboy straightened slowly, eyes fixed ahead.

His glow intensified a fraction.

"Something's coming," he said.

The tunnel ahead remained still.

Too still.

Don frowned and narrowed his focus.

Nothing.

No heat ahead. No breath. No shifting mass. The tunnel carried sound too cleanly, as if something had stripped it bare.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Starboy didn't look back. His jaw tightened. "Feel the ground, you idiot."

Don dropped into a crouch and pressed his palm flat against the slick floor.

There.

A faint tremor—barely there. Not rhythmic. Not random. Purposeful. It ran through the stone like a held breath. His boots had dampened it until now.

He stood again. "You're right," he said. "But it's not just one."

Pyro let out a low whistle. "Guess now's the time to use these things."

He reached to his belt and pulled free a small metallic orb, circular and smooth, about the size of a tennis ball. He twisted it once.

White light flared to life.

The orb hummed—whrrrr~—as Pyro tossed it forward. It struck the ground, bounced once, then lifted, hovering a few inches above the surface. Slowly, it drifted ahead, casting a clean, steady glow down the tunnel.

Pyro glanced back over his shoulder. "Good thing Dr. Gadget volunteered, am I right?"

He killed the flames in his hair. The orb did more than enough.

Don didn't answer.

His eyes had locked onto something ahead.

Shapes.

Human.

Pyro turned back toward the light, his grin fading. Starboy's fists clenched, feet planting wider apart.

Four figures stood in the tunnel.

They wore tactical gear marked FBI, fabric soaked through with green stains and dark red smears. Helmets were gone. One leaned slightly to the side, another favored a leg, but none of them looked close to collapse.

The light reached them fully.

The man in front raised an arm to shield his face. "Are you rescue?" he asked, voice rough but clear. "Finally… they sent someone down here."

Relief cracked through his expression. "Please—you have to help us. There's more kids down here. We tried to fight the damned monsters but—"

"Attack them," Don said flatly.

Starboy's head snapped toward him. "Are you sure?" His eyes flicked back to the group. "Are they… like them?"

Pyro's hands came up, flames beginning to roll over his knuckles. "Wait—how can you tell?"

Don didn't blink. "Their bodies have no heat signatures," he said. "None."

The flames on Pyro's hands flared brighter.

"Except," Don continued, "a small area at the back of their heads."

He stepped forward half a pace. "These people are already dead."

The man in front stopped moving.

So did the others.

His face—still locked in relief a moment ago—shifted. His mouth stretched wider. Wider than bone should allow. Skin pulled tight as his grin spread past the corners of his jaw, teeth showing too many at once.

He laughed.

Not like a man.

"Hehehehehe…"

"Mother did say they would send smarter ones," he said. His voice warped mid-sentence, sinking lower, rougher, layered with something wet beneath it.

Behind him, echoes rolled through the tunnel.

Children laughing.

Then crying.

"Please—help—"

"Make it stop—"

Pyro clenched his fists. Flames roared to life this time, heat slamming into Don's senses.

"You're all going to die!" the thing shouted. "Submit your fleshy vessels to our Moth—"

Starboy moved.

The ground shattered beneath his feet as he launched forward in a single burst. Air screamed as he tore through it—WHAMMMM~—the tunnel walls shuddering, loose chunks tearing free and crashing down. The pressure wave blew straight past Pyro, snuffing his flames out in an instant.

"Starboy, wai—" Don shouted.

Too late.

Starboy crossed the distance in less than a second.

And just before impact—

He saw it.

All four figures smiled at once.

Their bodies bloated outward, skin flushing red as energy surged beneath the surface.

Starboy's eyes widened.

Then he hit.

BOOM!!!!

The tunnel flashed white. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

The blast tore through stone and flesh alike, a brutal concussive wave ripping the ceiling apart. Rock collapsed inward, walls buckling as debris thundered down—KRRRRSHHHH~—the shockwave throwing Don and Pyro backward as the passage began to cave.

Everything vanished in fire, force, and falling earth.