Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 513: The Havenridge Incident (Part 5)

Chapter 513: Chapter 513: The Havenridge Incident (Part 5)

Elliot.

The name landed heavy in the dark.

"Elliot?" Don called out, his voice rolling across the open space and coming back warped and thin.

Starboy didn’t wait for confirmation. He was already moving, fingers snapping a light sphere free from his belt and activating it in one smooth motion.

"Yeah?!" Elliot’s voice came back, strained and ragged. "It’s me—cough~—help me, damn it—argh—I don’t think I’ll last much longer!"

Starboy gripped the sphere and tossed it toward the sound without slowing. As it flew, he turned his head just enough to look at Don. "Is he one of them?"

There was no hesitation in the question. At this point, trust was a liability.

Don’s eyes stayed forward. "I can’t be sure at first glance."

Starboy frowned. "Why not?"

Then, quieter, glancing back the way they’d come, "And... do you think that Pyro guy’s okay?"

Don didn’t answer that. "Let’s worry about ourselves first," he said. "As for why I can’t tell—" His gaze narrowed. "You’ll see."

The sphere struck stone hard—KRAK~—and rolled once before lifting, its light spilling outward.

Elliot lay just beyond it.

And he wasn’t alone.

Don stopped cold.

The light revealed a structure beside Elliot that twisted the stomach on sight alone.

It rose from the ground like a malformed organ cluster—roughly three meters tall, maybe half that wide at its broadest point.

Vines wrapped and layered over one another, weaving into a dense mass that pulsed slowly. Embedded throughout were human hearts.

Some normal.

Some not.

Large ones. Dense ones. Misshapen ones that could only belong to superhumans.

Each heart was connected by thick, vine-like tubes that glowed faint green as pulses ran through them in steady intervals. The entire mass was encased in a rounded shell of translucent mucus, the same slick, semi-clear substance they’d seen stretched across the dome in the abyss.

Below it—

Bodies.

Torn open.

Chests split wide, ribs pried apart, organs missing. Some wore official badges, uniforms shredded but still identifiable. Blood pooled beneath them, fresh enough to glisten in the orb’s light. A few bodies still twitched, fingers curling weakly, legs jerking as nerves misfired.

Starboy’s breath paused.

’Another one?’ flashed through his mind before he could stop it.

The structure demanded attention, dragging the eye back again and again—but Starboy forced himself to look past it, to Elliot, lying there streaked with blood, chest heaving shallowly. His gaze lingered, jaw tightening.

Don was already elsewhere.

Beastshift fed him details in a steady flood. "Heat’s unreliable," he said calmly. "The blood he’s covered in is warm. Too warm. Whoever these belonged to was exerting hard when they were opened up." He tilted his head. "Some of the limbs are still moving."

"Enough with the damned analysis!" Elliot snapped. "Before that thing comes back! I’m recording this! You hear me? You will be held liable if I die!"

Starboy’s eyes flicked around. "What thing?"

Don pointed down at the ground near the bodies. "Him."

They followed his gesture.

Drag marks cut through the gore. One path. One direction. No signs of a struggle beyond bodies being hauled away.

"One set of footprints," Don continued. "His size."

He didn’t bother mentioning the traces Beastshift picked up beyond that. The smear patterns. The residue of human tissue ground into finger tips and between teeth. Starboy stared for half a second longer.

’He has senses that good—even in the dark?’

Then he turned back to Elliot.

Hands came together.

"Then he goes first," Starboy said.

Energy roared to life between his palms and detonated forward—BRAAAAAAM~.

Don flinched just enough to turn his face aside as the chamber flooded with light. Starboy’s beam tore across the ground, vaporizing stone as it went. The heat rippling off it would’ve flayed a normal human standing anywhere near its path.

Elliot’s eyes reflected the oncoming blast, pupils blown wide.

For an instant, his face was pure fear.

Then it twisted.

A grin split his mouth, wide and wrong. "Hiiih—"

The ground beneath him erupted upward in a rough slab, jagged and uneven, thrown up like a desperate shield.

It should have failed instantly.

Just before the beam struck, the slab changed.

Not color.

Form.

Its surface smoothed and hardened, shifting into a bronzed, metallic sheen while keeping its raw, uneven shape—dense, reflective, and very much not stone anymore.

Starboy’s eyes widened.

He twisted, arms snapping left as he adjusted the beam. Half of it slammed into the bronzed slab—BRRAAAM~—while the other half washed over the cocooned mass of hearts.

The cocoon took it.

The energy vanished into the mucus shell without resistance, ripples spreading across its surface like a stone dropped into thick gel.

The slab did not absorb.

It reflected.

The redirected beam snapped back with brutal force, a compressed line of gold screaming straight toward Don.

Don’s eyes flared wide.

He crossed his arms in front of his face a split second before impact.

The beam hit.

The force drove him back a step, boots carving trenches in the ground as his body locked down and held.

The energy split around him, shearing to either side as if he were a wedge forced into a current. Twin lances tore past his shoulders and slammed into the far walls—KRAAASH~—stone detonating outward as the chamber buckled.

Chunks of earth burst free. The ceiling groaned.

When the light died, Don lowered his arms.

The plating along his forearms and shoulders had darkened, material hardened and warped by the heat. Thin trails of smoke rose off him, curling into the air.

Elliot laughed.

"AHAHAHAHA—"

The sound echoed too long, bending as it bounced.

Don didn’t look at him.

He looked down.

Then he lifted his head and shouted, "Airborne! Attack from above!"

Starboy moved instantly.

At the same moment, Don slammed his fist into the ground.

The impact blew the stone apart beneath him—BOOOOM~—a crater ripping outward as shockwave after shockwave surged through the chamber. The earth split and lifted, slabs tearing free and launching upward while others rained down from above.

Dust swallowed everything.

The chaos was brief but violent. Larger chunks fell fast and hard, smashing into the floor—THUD—THUD—while smaller fragments spun wildly through the air.

Starboy threaded through it.

He tore forward at full speed, body streaking between tumbling stone. He dodged a slab the size of a truck by a hair’s breadth, twisted through a spinning chunk mid-flight, and let smaller debris shatter against his aura as he closed the distance.

Every correction sent pressure waves snapping outward—WHUMP~—clearing his path without slowing him.

Elliot watched him come, grin fixed but eyes tight.

Then Starboy veered.

Not toward Elliot.

Toward the cocoon.

Don burst forward from the ground at the same time, launching himself through the dust cloud with a force that cracked stone underfoot.

Elliot’s attention snapped back.

His face twisted, the grin stretching wider as his voice dropped into something deeper, louder, layered.

"GET AWAY, YOU WORM!!"

The shout hit like a physical blow.

The chamber shook again—GRRROOOOM~—dust falling in sheets from the ceiling.

Neither of them slowed.

Elliot snarled and threw his hands up toward Starboy.

Falling rocks yanked sideways mid-drop, dragged into his grasp and compressed together. They flowed like liquid stone, reshaping even as they moved, surfaces darkening until they hardened into dense black metal.

They slammed into Starboy’s leg.

The hit knocked him off balance mid-flight—KRAANG~—his trajectory collapsing instantly. He spun, lost lift, and crashed hard into the ground, skidding across stone as sparks and debris sprayed out behind him.

He didn’t get back up.

Elliot laughed again, breath hitching with it, metal fragments curling back toward him.

"Stay down, you wor—"

The sound cut off.

THUMP.

THUMP.

Heavy footsteps slammed in behind him, each one cracking the ground.

Before Elliot could turn, his head snapped back.

Not staggered.

Not knocked.

Wrenched.

His neck twisted a full one-eighty, bone screaming as his eyes trembled and then widened in shock.

Don stood inches from him.

His fist was already moving.