Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 511: The Havenridge Incident (Part 3)

Don and the others stood at the edge of the drop and stared.

The orb continued its slow descent, its light spilling outward as it sank, peeling back the dark in widening layers. What it revealed wasn't a floor. It was a structure.

A dome.

Transparent. Slimy. It bulged upward from the abyss like a swollen blister, its surface slick and wet, stretched thin over what lay beneath.

Thick strands of mucus-like material clung to it, trailing down and snapping back as if pulled by unseen currents.

Inside the dome were heads.

Human. Severed clean at the neck.

They were packed together so tightly there was no space between them, faces pressed cheek to cheek, foreheads to chins, covering the entire upper span of the abyss—hundreds of meters across—until the mass stopped cleanly at the dome's edge.

No gaps. No pattern. Just flesh upon flesh, eyes closed, mouths slack.

Below them, the base revealed itself.

A dense lattice of vines formed a foundation beneath the heads, thick cords twisting together into something almost architectural. From that base, individual tendrils rose upward and disappeared into the ruined necks of the heads, burrowed deep where spines should have been.

The vines moved.

Not randomly.

They bulged and contracted in slow waves, like something was being pushed through them—upward, from the base toward the heads. Even the thinner strands writhed, their surfaces rippling as they worked.

The smell hit a oment later.

Rot. Chemical.

Yet nothing else lived there.

No creatures prowled the edges. No tunnels branched out, no visible exits or entrances broke the surrounding flesh-lined stone.

Just the dome.

Just the heads.

Just the vines.

For a long moment, none of them spoke.

Then Pyro swallowed. "Uh… yeah," he said quietly, voice losing some of its usual ease. "We—uh—we need to report this. Like. Now. Whatever the hell this is."

He fumbled at his utility belt and pulled free a compact recorder, thumb shaking just enough to notice as he activated it. The device chimed softly and he aimed it downward while the orb drifted lower, its light crawling over the dome's surface.

Starboy didn't look at him.

His eyes had begun to glow, gold bleeding outward as energy pooled at his hands, crawling over his fingers in tight arcs. "What we need to do," he said, voice flat, "is destroy that thing."

Don didn't answer right away.

Every sense he had was screaming. Not warning—command. The structure below wasn't dormant. It wasn't incomplete. It was doing something, and whatever that something was, it wasn't meant to finish.

"I agree," Don said at last.

Starboy nodded once. "Good."

He brought his hands together and fired.

The beam tore downward in a straight line—BRRRRAAAM~—a concentrated lance of golden energy that slammed into the dome dead center.

It didn't punch through.

The surface absorbed it.

Ripples exploded outward across the dome, thick waves rolling through the translucent film like a stone dropped into heavy gel. The light bent, warped, and vanished into the mass without leaving so much as a scorch.

No crack.

No rupture.

Starboy cut the beam and stared, jaw tightening.

Don frowned. "Pyro," he said, eyes never leaving the dome, "can you try fire? As hot as you can manage."

Pyro opened his mouth to answer—

And every head snapped upward at once.

Eyes flew open, hundreds of them, pupils locking onto the edge above. Mouths stretched wide, jaws moving stiffly as sound poured out.

Not one voice.

Many.

"So noisy—"

"Damned fleshy vessels—"

"Kill—"

"Kill kill kill—"

Children. Adults. Elderly. All layered together into a jagged chorus that bounced off the stone walls and climbed upward.

The three of them shifted instantly—feet planting, muscles coiling, energy flaring.

Then the ground lurched.

A deep rumble rolled through the abyss, stronger than before, rising fast as the entire space began to shake, stone groaning, vines thrashing as something below them moved.

And whatever it was—

Was waking up.

The rumble pitched hard enough to throw Pyro forward.

He windmilled, boots scraping uselessly against the stone before a hand fisted in his collar and yanked him back. Pyro slammed into the wall chest-first, forearms braced as the tunnel shuddered again.

"Woah—shit—" he muttered, then sucked in a breath and glanced sideways. "Uh. Thanks, man."

Starboy had already let go. He said nothing. He didn't even look at Pyro—his attention was locked downward, eyes still lit, jaw set.

Pyro pushed himself upright, palms pressed to the damp wall. "Okay," he said, forcing air into his lungs. "So what the heck is happening?"

Both he and Starboy turned toward Don.

Don didn't answer.

He stood rigid at the edge, gaze fixed on the abyss below, Beastshift feeding him too much information at once. Heat. Motion. Pressure changes that didn't follow any natural pattern he knew.

Even after everything he'd seen before—this didn't line up.

Then the dome moved.

Not fast. Not violently.

It lifted.

Just a little.

The entire mass rose as one, flesh trembling as it did. The surface stretched outward, swelling like a bubble pushed from below—and the space inside filled with dark green gas, thick and rolling, pressing against the transparent membrane.

When it reached the heads—

They screamed.

Real screams.

"Make it stop—!"

"Someone help—!"

"It hurts— it hurts—ahhh—!"

"Mommy—!"

The sound ripped upward in overlapping waves, raw and broken. Children's voices cracked mid-cry. Adults shouted until their throats gave out. Elderly voices warbled into wet sobbing.

It wasn't performance.

It was pain.

Starboy swallowed hard. "Those screams sound—"

"They're alive," Don said, nodding once. His voice came out low and tight. "Somehow. They're keeping them alive." He clenched his fists. "Letting them feel everything."

It was a theory.

But it fit too well.

Pyro turned away, jaw working as he dragged a hand down his face. He couldn't look at it anymore. "We—we have to destroy that thing," he said hoarsely. "Somehow."

Starboy shook his head. "If my blasts didn't even scratch it, your fire won't either. Neither will his explosive hits." He glanced toward the tunnel behind them. "We need to head back. Now. Before something worse happens."

Pyro spun on him. "You expect us to just leave them like that?" Anger finally cracked through his voice. "They're suffering down there! The least we can do is put them out of their misery!"

He gestured wildly toward the abyss. "Cause a cave-in. Hit it together. Do something!"

Starboy's brow furrowed—

"No."

Both of them froze and looked at Don.

"What do you mean—" Pyro started.

"Now," Don cut in, urgency spiking hard. "Something is about to happen. We need to get out of here. Right now."

Every instinct he had was screaming retreat. Not caution. Not hesitation.

Run.

Pyro hesitated, breath hitching—

Then narrow openings split across the dome's surface.

They peeled open like valves.

And the gas expelled.

FOOOSH~.

The cloud surged upward in a rolling wave. Wherever it touched the surrounding walls, flesh sloughed away almost instantly, vines collapsing into blackened sludge—szzzzrk~—the smell turning unbearable.

The light below vanished as the gas swallowed it whole.

The abyss fell back into darkness.

Don still saw everything.

And that was enough.

"Run!" he shouted.

He turned and broke into a sprint, boots hammering against the tunnel floor.

Starboy hesitated only long enough to glance down once more, eyes flaring brighter—

Then he lifted off, hovering for a split second before launching after Don, air buckling beneath him.

Pyro didn't argue.

Fear burned everything else out.

He turned and ran, igniting his hair as he went, fire flaring bright behind him as the tunnel shook again—GRRMMM~—and whatever they'd just angered… continued to rise.