Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 533: Resistance V1 (Part 5)

Pyro exhaled through his nose and gave a short nod. "Yeah... alright."

He opened his mouth to add something—

But then the ground roared.

Not a tremor.

A violent upheaval.

Starboy spun, eyes wide. "Shit—it could be another—"

The first eruption detonated.

BOOOOOM~

The blast hit from the far side of the ruined town, a column of earth and shattered concrete launching skyward as a new sprout punched through the surface. The shockwave slammed into them a second later, the air compressing hard enough to knock the breath from their lungs.

Don was thrown sideways.

He tried to grab on—hands slapping against the split edge of the damaged sprout—but the surface was coated now, layers of green translucence running down its length. His grip slid uselessly.

He fell.

Hard.

Stone and debris shattered beneath him as he hit, body rolling and tearing through rubble before slamming to a stop near the sprout’s base. Pain flared through his side as he skidded, dust choking the air.

Above him, Pyro and Starboy were already losing control.

Pyro fought it, legs flaring as he tried to stabilize—but the second eruption went off.

BOOOOM~

This one further out, closer to the outskirts. The overlapping shockwaves tore the air apart, throwing Pyro violently off course. He was flung across the ruins, crashing through the remains of a half-collapsed structure—CRRRAASH~—disappearing in a spray of concrete and twisted metal.

Starboy tried to adjust toward Don.

He saw him fall.

Then the third eruption hit.

BOOOOOM~

The blast slammed Starboy sideways, his body smashing into the sprout’s outer structure with a sickening impact before he bounced off and dropped. He hit the ground just meters from Don, skidding through rubble and gouging a shallow trench before stopping.

The fourth came last.

BOOOOOM~

Near Dr. Gadget.

Vines burst skyward in every direction, whipping blindly and tearing through anything in reach—friend, enemy, building, machine. The sound overlapped, layered explosions echoing through the ruins as the town was assaulted from all sides.

Don pushed himself up on shaking arms, coughing dust and blood.

All around them, the ground was breaking open.

The ringing from the explosions didn’t vanish all at once. It lingered—thin, uneven—while the deeper tremors softened with each shudder of the ground.

What replaced them was worse.

Dragging.

A heavy, tearing scrape rolled through the ruins as vines hauled themselves across broken concrete and shattered stone. Fibrous mass grinding against debris. Weight shifting. Preparing.

Don forced air into his lungs and pushed himself up.

Everything felt wrong—limbs slow, muscles knotted tight, balance lagging a fraction behind intent.

He didn’t bother looking toward Starboy. He didn’t need to. The ragged pull of breath to his side, the strained groan as Starboy shifted and tried to get his feet under him, said enough.

Don lifted his head—and his focus snapped upward instead.

Two vines hung above Starboy, arched and drawn back, their surfaces stretched and ridged as mass compressed along their length. They were already moving. Not fast yet—but committed.

Another presence loomed over Don himself.

He glanced up just long enough to register it.

The vine above him was dropping.

"—shit."

Don turned away from his own threat.

He planted his feet and reached out both hands toward Starboy, teeth clenched as he forced power through his head and down his spine. Telekinetic force snapped outward and wrapped around Starboy’s torso in a blunt, hurried grip.

Starboy yelped as the pull caught him off balance.

Don didn’t apologize.

He yanked Starboy sideways—just far enough—dragging him clear as the twin vines slammed down where he’d been sprawled moments earlier.

BOOOOM~

The impacts chewed the ground apart, stone bursting upward in a violent spray. Don released the telekinetic hold immediately, the strain already blooming behind his eyes. Dizziness crept in fast, hard enough to make him grit his teeth.

No time.

The shadow above him swallowed what little light remained.

Don raised his arms as the vine crossed its midpoint and came down.

The hit landed like a falling structure.

BOOOOM~

His boots dug in as the ground cracked outward beneath him, shoulders screaming as he absorbed what he could. The vine pressed harder, weight compounding as the surface beneath his feet failed in ugly stages—fracture, collapse, drop looming next.

Don’s stance buckled.

"Ghh—!"

He abandoned the block mid-failure and drove one fist upward instead, releasing what little energy he’d managed to trap during the impact.

BOOOOM~

The blast tore up into the underside of the vine, forcing it back in a violent recoil. The mass whipped upward farther than the force alone should’ve allowed, its own momentum betraying it as it snapped away and cleared space.

Don staggered, sucking in a breath through dust and grit.

Just enough.

A faint overlay burned into his vision in that moment.

11...

10...

Or so he thought.

Debris swirled thick around him, but the air shifted wrong. Pressure pulled hard at his chest—

A vine burst out of the cloud almost sideways, snapping toward him in a brutal arc.

9...

8...

Don didn’t wait.

He punched toward it and released another concussive blast as he jumped back at the same time. The explosion ripped into the vine’s leading edge and bled its speed off just enough—just enough—to let Don clear the swing.

The wind yanked at him midair as he twisted and came down awkwardly, one foot sliding on loose stone.

7...

6...

He started to lift his head—

The counter froze.

It jittered. Flickered.

Then snapped to 0.

Don blinked.

"What—"

Something cut through the air.

Not a roar. Not a boom.

A thin, tearing presence—the sound air makes when it’s being forced aside by something that shouldn’t be moving that fast.

Before Don could track it, the wind detonated outward.

Dust, ash, and debris were ripped from the ground and thrown aside in a widening ring as something passed through the space between heartbeats.

Even Don only caught fragments—silver flashes, hard angles, a blur that climbed the sprout’s ruined summit in a single violent line.

The physics lagged behind the motion.

Stone fractured after it was struck. Air collapsed in delayed bursts. Vines near the summit sheared apart not by impact, but by the pressure wake left behind.

The upper portion of the sprout split open further, layers torn back and flung outward as if peeled by an invisible hand. Chunks of scorched growth tumbled down, trailing green fluid that scattered into mist before hitting the ground.

Then—

Stillness.

At the top of the ruined summit, something stood.

A person.

He was tall—around two hundred centimeters, broad-shouldered and solid in a way that suggested weight rather than bulk.

Cream-white formal pants sat unmarked by the chaos, pressed clean. Dark loafers rested against torn growth as if gravity treated him differently. A light blue long-sleeve shirt was tucked neatly into his waist, held by a dark belt with a silver buckle that caught the light.

His face looked to be in its late thirties—handsome in a composed, unhurried way. Strong jaw, straight nose, expression calm to the point of indifference. Medium-length silver hair lay neatly trimmed, barely disturbed by the wind that still tore at the ruins below.

Light grey eyes surveyed the battlefield without urgency.

And from his back—

Wings.

Massive. Spread wide.

Each feather was silver, rigid, and unnervingly precise—edges so fine they looked capable of slicing stone. They caught the light in harsh planes rather than curves, overlapping in a way that made them look less grown and more engineered.

The air around him hadn’t finished settling.

Don stared up from the rubble, chest heaving, dust clinging to his skin.

"...what," he breathed.

The man on the summit looked down.