Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 510: The Havenridge Incident (Part 2)

The tunnel no longer existed.

What remained was a crushed artery of stone and flesh, the ceiling folded down into itself in uneven slabs. Broken ribs of reinforced support jutted at bad angles, wrapped in vines that had gone slack or burned black.

Dust hung low and thick, drifting in slow sheets as gravity finished its work.

For a few seconds, nothing moved.

Then the debris at the far end shifted.

A low grind rolled through the rubble—grrrrk~—stones rubbing against one another as something pushed from inside. The mass bulged outward, vines tearing loose with wet snaps, until—

BOOM!

A bright beam of golden energy tore through the blockage in a tight circular stream, drilling forward with ruthless focus.

Rock didn't crack; it vanished. Vines disintegrated mid-coil, reduced to ash and drifting smoke. The beam lasted only seconds, but it carved a clean tunnel straight through the collapse.

When it cut out, the light left behind scorched walls and curling smoke that bled upward in thin ribbons.

Boots crunched.

Starboy stepped out of the burned-out passage, shoulders tense, jaw locked. Bits of slag slid off his boots as he took another step, eyes already sweeping the space ahead.

"Those fucking things," he muttered.

He paused and dropped into a crouch, pressing his palm to the ground. His glow dimmed, attention sinking inward as he listened through the stone. No tremor. No answering pulse. Nothing ahead.

Good.

A faint rumble rolled behind him instead.

Starboy's head snapped around.

His senses flared as he pivoted, feet planting wide, arms lifting—

BOOM!!!

The explosion hit from within the debris behind him, louder and wider than the first. It wasn't a beam this time—it was force.

The remaining rubble disintegrated near the center and blasted outward in a savage arc. Chunks of stone flew past him, some melting midair, others shattering against the walls.

Starboy threw an arm up and leaned into it, boots biting into the floor as the shockwave washed over him. Dust roared past, then fell away just as fast.

When the air cleared, the source stood there.

Don.

He stepped forward through the wreckage, shoulders rolling once as he shook off lingering debris. His gloved right fist burned a dull red, heat bleeding off it in wavering trails of smoke. The plating around the knuckles was scorched but intact.

He flexed his hand slowly.

When the collapse had come down, he'd taken it head-on—braced, absorbed. Not just the stone, but the concussive backlash from the spine worms detonating their puppets. He'd held it all and let it burn through him instead of around him.

Beside him, Pyro lay half on his side, helmet tilted askew. He groaned and rolled onto his back. "Ugh… damn." He pushed himself up on one elbow, then the other. "Did those people just explode?"

Starboy didn't look at him. "Those things aren't people."

"Right," Pyro said, stretching his arms overhead with a wince. "Yeah. Figured."

Don shook his hand once more, the glow fading as the heat bled out. Smoke thinned, then vanished. He glanced between them. "Everyone okay?"

Pyro nodded, testing his footing as he stood. "I'll live. Felt like getting hit by an isekai truck."

Starboy brushed ash and residue off his sleeve, movements rushed and irritated. "I will be," he said, staring down the tunnel ahead, "once we clear this fucking place and leave."

The words came out tight. He scraped something wet off his shoulder and flung it aside, where it slapped against the wall—splk~.

Don didn't comment. He stepped past him, boots crunching through the remains of the collapse, eyes already tracking the tunnel's curve. "Then let's keep moving," he said. "And unless I say otherwise…"

He glanced back once.

"Kill anything that moves."

Starboy huffed a short laugh. "That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say."

Pyro fell in behind them, rolling his shoulders as fire flickered briefly across his fingers before he killed it again.

———

Meanwhile…

The main camp never stopped moving.

Generators thudded in steady cycles—their vibration bleeding through the packed dirt.

Radios crackled in overlapping bursts, voices stepping on one another as teams relayed updates that didn't line up.

Screens glowed inside stacked containers, cables snaking out through half-open doors and into the afternoon air.

One of those containers sat just off the central path.

Inside, the space had been converted into a mobile command bay. Racks of equipment lined the walls.

Monitors filled the far end in a wide arc, each displaying a different feed—maps, seismic charts, signal strength graphs, biometric readouts frozen mid-scroll.

Dr. Gadget stood behind the seated operators, hands folded neatly behind his back.

He didn't pace. He didn't fidget. He simply watched.

His eyes moved from screen to screen, tracking shifts most people wouldn't notice. A slight drop here. A delay there. Patterns forming where none should exist.

One of the technicians leaned closer to her console, fingers flying. "Doctor," she said, not looking up, "we've just lost communication with Team Two."

She tapped the display, bringing up a waveform. It jittered, then flattened. "Same interference pattern as Team One. Sudden onset. Hard cut to static—then nothing."

Dr. Gadget's brow creased. "That is… unexpected."

He stepped forward a half pace, peering over her shoulder. "I personally assisted in the design of those processors," he said calmly. "Their signal depth exceeds this by a considerable margin." His gaze narrowed slightly. "Something is degrading communications past a fixed threshold."

Another operator turned in his chair. "Environmental?"

"Unlikely," Gadget replied. "At least not in any conventional sense."

A chime sounded from the far console—pip~—followed by a new window snapping open. A man seated there straightened. "Sir, seismic station just flagged a major event."

He enlarged the chart with a flick of his wrist. Jagged lines spiked across the display, heavy and uneven. "They're calling it a subterranean shock. Sudden compression followed by outward force."

He hesitated. "Could be a tunnel collapse."

Dr. Gadget studied the chart in silence.

"Based on triangulation," the operator continued, voice lower now, "the epicenter aligns with the projected position of Team One."

"Noted," Gadget said at last. "Continue monitoring. Do not escalate without confirmation."

"Yes, sir."

The room settled back into controlled motion. Keys clicked. Screens updated. No one said what they were all thinking.

Dr. Gadget turned and stepped out of the container.

The air felt cooler by comparison. He paused just outside, the hum of the camp washing over him, and exhaled slowly.

'Something isn't right,' he thought.

The manpower shortage already strained logic. But denying him deployment of a higher-capability android—one suited for hostile subterranean environments—had crossed into obstinacy. Or worse.

"I understand caution," he murmured to himself. "But this is not caution."

He sighed, hands returning behind his back as he watched personnel move around the site, unaware of how thin their margin truly was.

"I do hope," he added quietly, "that those children are able."

The ground beneath his feet vibrated faintly.

Whether from machinery—or something deeper—he couldn't yet say.

———

Back underground…

They kept moving.

The tunnel sloped down at a steady angle, walls tightening as they went, the ground uneven beneath their boots.

Pyro's hair burned again, a controlled crown of fire that washed the passage in warm light without biting heat.

Shadows slid along the vine-choked walls as they advanced, stretching and shrinking with every step.

Minutes passed like that.

Then Don slowed.

"Hold on."

He raised a hand, fist closing as he stopped short. Pyro cut the flame at once, light dimming as the fire receded back into his hair. Starboy took another step before realizing they'd halted, then turned around with a scowl still carved into his face.

"I know," Starboy said. "There's a drop ahead."

Don shook his head once. "Not that."

He stood still, shoulders settling as Beastshift sharpened further. Heat bloomed across his perception—faint, scattered, layered thick ahead of them.

"A lot of signatures," he went on. "Right in front of us. Well… below to be exact."

Starboy's frown deepened. "Then what's the problem?"

Don hesitated. "They're weak."

Pyro glanced between them. "Weak how?"

"Like they're barely holding temperature at all," Don said. "Dozens of them."

Starboy snorted and turned forward again. "Then it's probably prisoners. We're wasting time." He flexed his fingers. "And if it's more of those things, we'll kill them. Simple."

He reached to his belt and pulled free one of the light orbs, rolling it once between his fingers before twisting it on. White light flared.

Starboy tossed it ahead.

The orb bounced once against the stone—tok~—then lifted, hovering as it drifted forward. Its glow spilled across the end of the tunnel.

There was no continuation.

The passage ended abruptly in a jagged lip of stone, beyond which the ground dropped away into open space. No bridge. No ramp. Just a sheer fall.

Across from them, the far wall wasn't stone at all.

It was flesh.

Thick, layered growth covered the opposite side, vines braided into swollen sheets that clung to the rock like muscle pulled tight over bone.

No branching tunnels cut through it. No openings. Just a vast, living surface that twitched faintly under the orb's light.

'Not like the last nest,' Don thought. No corridors. No symmetry. This was different.

They approached the edge without speaking.

Pyro stepped up beside Starboy, fire fully gone now as he leaned forward slightly, hands resting on his knees while he watched the orb descend. Its light slid downward, shrinking as it fell, revealing more of the space below.

Don joined them last.

He took one look down—

And stopped.

"What the hell is that…" he muttered.