Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 518: The Havenridge Incident (Part 10)

Chapter 518: Chapter 518: The Havenridge Incident (Part 10)

Starboy didn’t hesitate.

The moment the vibration rolled through the chamber—low, deep, wrong—he fired.

Light tore from his hands in twin beams, slamming into the ice block encasing Frostbite and Charles.

The surface didn’t shatter. It resisted. Layers of reinforced frost cracked, reformed, then cracked again as the heat bored into it inch by inch—slow, stubborn, infuriating.

"Come on—come on—" Starboy growled under his breath, boots skidding as he braced harder, feet carving shallow lines in the stone floor.

The vibration hit again.

Stronger.

Dust rattled loose from the ceiling. Pebbles danced near Don’s boots. The chamber responded with a deep groan, like something massive shifting its weight far away.

Don wasn’t looking at the ice.

He was looking past it, the same direction Frostbite and Charles looked weakly toward.

More than a kilometer out, through layered stone, Beastshift peeled the dark open and showed him what was coming.

It was big.

Too big.

The thing tore through the passage at a pace that didn’t match its size, stone buckling around it as it moved.

Over twice Don’s height—maybe more if it straightened fully—and shaped only loosely like a person.

Its legs hit first in Don’s perception.

Not legs, really—columns of dense vine-mass, thick and corded, ending in shapes that mimicked human feet but swollen beyond reason.

Each step crushed the ground beneath it, stone splitting outward as it drove forward with terrifying momentum—BOOM... BOOM... BOOM~.

The midsection was worse.

Multiple human torsos—six visible from the front alone—fused together in a vertical mesh. Ribs overlapped ribs. Sternums pressed into one another.

Vines threaded through them like crude stitching, pulsing with green light in slow intervals as if timing breath for bodies that no longer owned lungs.

Some of the chests twitched.

Don swallowed.

Six arms lashed as it ran.

Two sprouted low from the abdomen, thin and twitching, fingers clawing uselessly at the air. Two more jutted from a warped shoulder mass, uneven in length, joints bending the wrong way as they pumped for balance.

And the last pair—

Those were the worst.

They rose from its upper back, thick and overdeveloped, muscle wrapped tight around vine and bone.

The hands were massive, green-stained, fingers ending blunt and heavy like they’d been grown for tearing rather than holding.

Each swing cracked the air as it surged forward—WHUMP~—using them to vault, to drive, to accelerate.

Then there was the head.

Visually untouched.

No blood. No tearing. No distortion.

A little girl.

Five years old, maybe. Brown hair tied crooked at the side, strands flying loose with each violent step.

Her face was calm. Too calm. Eyes wide and glassy, mouth slightly open like she was about to speak—or cry.

She didn’t blink.

The thing ran.

Fast.

Far too fast for something built like that.

Don felt cold settle under his ribs.

Behind him, Starboy pushed harder, light flaring brighter as sweat ran down his face. Cracks spiderwebbed across the ice, chunks sloughing away and evaporating under the beams—KRK—SSHH~—but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

Another tremor slammed through the chamber.

This one knocked Starboy off balance.

He staggered, caught himself against the ice with one hand, boots scraping—and glanced up.

Frostbite was inside the block, eyes wide.

She was shaking her head. Or at least trying.

Not panicked.

Side to side.

No.

Behind her, Charles was doing the same. Slower. Weaker. But unmistakable.

Starboy stared at them for half a second, then looked back at Don.

"I think," he said breathlessly, stepping sideways as another crack split the ice, "they’re telling us to leave."

The vibration came again—closer now. Much closer.

Starboy’s voice dropped. "Whatever thing you see... we can’t fight it. We need to leave."

Don didn’t answer right away.

He drew in a slow breath through his nose, chest rising as he stepped forward, boots crunching over grit.

He looked once more down that direction, watching the creature’s bulk tear past stone like it was wet clay.

Then he turned back.

"You have four minutes and forty-four seconds," Don said.

Starboy blinked. "What?"

Don met his eyes, expression flat, voice oddly steady. "That’s how long I can hold it off alone."

Another distant impact rolled through the ground—closer now, carrying with it the faint sound of tearing stone and something wet being dragged along behind it.

Don gestured toward the ice without looking away. "Whether you use that time to run... or free them..."

He paused.

"...is up to you."

The chamber shook again.

Hard enough this time that hairline fractures crept across the floor beneath their feet.

Starboy stared at him, light still pouring from his hands, jaw tight as the weight of the choice settled in.

Starboy frowned at Don’s words—but he didn’t argue.

He didn’t look away either.

Instead, he leaned into it.

His stance widened, boots grinding against stone as he locked himself in place. Muscles in his forearms tightened, veins standing out as he forced more power through his hands.

The twin beams brightened, thickened, their edges roughening as heat climbed. The ice buckled under the assault—layers cracking, melting, then refreezing only to be torn apart again.

Steam burst outward in rolling clouds.

Water ran in rivulets down the block’s surface, flashed to vapor, then vanished. Frostbite’s ice peeled back in chunks now, not flakes—dense plates shearing away and exploding into mist as Starboy bored deeper.

"Come on," he muttered, teeth clenched. ’Move. Break. Now.’

Behind him, the chamber trembled again.

Stronger.

Don never looked back.

The thing was closing fast.

Its run was ugly—more leap than stride—each impact hammering through the expanse like a piledriver. Stone fractured beneath its feet, walls shuddering as it tore through bends that should have slowed something that size.

The stitched torsos along its midsection pulsed brighter as it moved, green light surging through the vine seams in erratic bursts.

It was like it ate distance.

Hundreds of meters vanished in seconds.

The air thickened with its approach—pressure rolling ahead of it, foul and wet, carrying the stink of rot and overheated flesh.

Don felt it crawling up his spine, Beastshift practically screaming proximity warnings he didn’t need anymore.

’Now.’

Don drove his feet into the ground.

Stone cracked under the sudden force—and he launched.

The shockwave rippled outward, slamming into Starboy’s side and fluttering his hair, but Starboy didn’t look. Didn’t falter. The beams held steady, brighter now, ice breaking apart in heavy slabs in front of him.

Don crossed meters in a single bound.

Then more.

Each landing shattered the ground beneath him—BOOM~—each push sending him farther, faster, momentum stacking as he broke into a full sprint. The chamber blurred around him as the path ahead opened wide.

The creature saw him.

It didn’t slow.

It giggled.

A light, childish sound that didn’t match the bulk tearing toward him.

"Yay," a little girl’s voice chirped. "Yay! Let’s play!"

Then the tone bent—warped lower, layered with something wet and almost demon possession like.

"Kekeke..."

Mockery.

Clear as day.

They met seconds later.

Up close, it was worse.

The thing towered over Don, its mass blotting out what little field of view the chamber had left. Heat rolled off it in waves. The stitched torsos flexed as one, ribs shifting under skin that didn’t belong together. The pressure alone made Don’s ears ring.

All six fists clenched.

The main arms drew back first—huge shoulders rotating, muscles bunching as the air split around them—pressure cracking outward as if the punch alone was already displacing space.

Don didn’t brace.

He shifted.

The right fist came in like a battering ram, fast enough to blur, but Don slid back and to the side, boots skidding as the blow tore past where his head had been a moment earlier.

The miss tore a trench through the wall beside him—BOOOOM~—stone detonating outward.

Before Don could reset, the back-mounted left arm came down.

Straight down.

It smashed into the ground with catastrophic force—the floor exploding into shattered rock and dirt, a shockwave rippling outward hard enough to lift Don off his feet for a fraction of a second.

He twisted midair.

Used it.

As debris surged upward in a choking cloud, Don punched.

His fist tore through a slab of stone like it wasn’t there—BOOM!!~—impact carrying through dust and rubble into something solid beyond.

Something alive.

The dust blasted outward.

Don’s arm stopped.

Not because he missed.

Because it was caught.

The creature’s main left hand had closed around his fist, fingers locking tight, vine-muscle constricting with brutal strength. The grip was iron. Crushing. Unyielding.

The little girl’s face tilted down at him.

She smiled.

Wide. Disturbing.

Behind Don, the two arms sprouting from the creature’s lower abdomen stretched outward, joints stiffening as they extended. The tips sparked—first a flicker, then a violent crackle as electricity surged from them—arcs snapping between the fingers and the air itself.

The creature leaned in, pressure crushing down around Don as the charged hands lunged forward.

Don felt it then.

Not fear.

Unease.

And still—

He couldn’t pull back.