Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

On the ninety-fourth floor of the Water Tower, as the battle drew to a close, even the thick reinforced concrete floor slab was smashed into a hideous hole.

The severed limbs from the 95th floor flowed down the large hole to the ground floor, piling up haphazardly around Locke. The broken bone fragments were pale and grim, piercing through the blood-soaked fabric.

Thick, dark red blood flowed over Locke's ankles, forming a winding river of blood that gushed and churned along the cave entrance, carrying bits of flesh, organ fragments, and pale bones, cascading down in a horrifying waterfall of blood.

Hungry Wolf Locke was soaked in blood from head to toe, with thick scabs clinging to his hair. Standing in the center of the blood waterfall, he looked like a demon from hell.

He gripped Wu Ling's neck with one hand, his knuckles turning bluish-white from the force, his fingers digging deep into the other's flesh.

Locke casually tossed Fifty's corpse into the mountain of corpses piled up beside him; the dull thud was instantly swallowed up by the sound of blood gushing out.

He glanced down at the scattered limbs and broken arms, his nostrils filled with an overwhelming, sweet, metallic stench. Looking at this hellish scene, a barely audible sigh escaped his throat, carrying a hint of indescribable sorrow.

To be honest, at most twelve people died at his hands. Apart from the seven who deserved to die and were executed by him personally, the remaining five were indirectly killed by other superhumans.

In other words, the remaining hundred or so people were basically killed by their own people.

These so-called heroes spend their days partying and having fun, without any ambition. They are nothing more than entertainers under Walter's command. They have basically never fought a real battle, and when they do fight, they have no restraint and don't care about the lives of their teammates at all.

This made it much easier than Locke had imagined. He had originally planned to gamble with all his popularity points, but he didn't need to use that plan at all. Instead, he unexpectedly unlocked a new form.

At this point, Locke looked at his nearly 3,500 popularity points and instantly felt like a nouveau riche.

After paying off all his debts, he still has nearly a thousand popularity points left. How should he spend these thousand?

Locke turned his head to look at the ninety-ninth floor, the floor where the Super Seven were located, and a smile appeared on his face.

The ninety-ninth floor, once the exclusive territory of the Super Seven, is now a scene of devastation. The walls are covered with charred grooves from lasers, the ground is cracked, smoke and dust fill the air, and the air is thick with the smell of burning and blood.

Starlight and Queen Maeve slumped in the corner, covered in wounds, their armor shattered, blood trickling from their mouths, barely breathing, and barely able to lift their hands.

In the center of the battlefield, Homelander, Soldier Boy, and Butcher were locked in a fierce and evenly matched battle.

No one expected that Homelander, who was fighting two against one, would not be at a disadvantage at all. On the contrary, he used his overwhelming strength and speed to suppress the two of them.

He withstood the combined full force of their attack, his chest rising and falling only slightly, before fixing his gaze on the Butcher, who had momentarily lost focus. In a flash, Homelander kicked out with tremendous force, and with a muffled thud, the Butcher flew backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing through the French windows and disappearing into the sky.

After taking down one of them, Homelander immediately turned around and rained down punches on the soldier boy like a storm. The dense barrage of heavy blows struck hard, causing the soldier boy to stagger repeatedly, his ribs creaking under the strain. He didn't even have a chance to catch his breath, and could only raise his hands to block the blows, blood continuously spilling from the corner of his mouth.

With each punch thrown, the people of the motherland seemed to be smashing out all the resentment that had been building up in their chests.

His eyes were bloodshot, tears mingling with the blood on his face as they rolled down his cheeks. His roar shook the entire floor, each word dripping with blood.

"I am not a defective product!"

The final, thunderous punch landed with a deafening roar, smashing a huge hole in the reinforced concrete slab between the 98th and 99th floors.

The soldier boy fell like a kite with a broken string, his body embedding heavily in the floor below, completely losing consciousness and falling into a coma.

The man, panting heavily, his chest heaving, suddenly threw his head back and let out a deafening roar towards the ceiling, a sound filled with obsessive ecstasy and frenzied screams:

"I am! The enhanced version of you! I am the most perfect you!!!"

Meanwhile, after settling the injured breast milk, the Frenchman, and Kimiko, Xiu Yi, still feeling the fatigue from the teleportation, reappeared on the ninety-ninth floor shirtless.

Ignoring the dust and scratches covering his body, he walked straight through the ravaged battlefield, quickly retreating with Starlight and Queen Maeve.

The group hurried to the medical room that had been prepared nearby.

After quickly treating her own wounds, she took out two white coats from the cabinet and draped them over Starlight and Maeve respectively. Then she turned around, took out a first-aid kit, and began to treat their wounds.

Starlight caught sight of Xiu Yi about to go over and help, and quickly reached out to stop him, her voice full of unconcealed worry: "Don't go, Xiu Yi, you can't help."

He looked up, his gaze devoid of any impulsiveness, only revealing a calm and resolute seriousness.

"I used to always hide behind you, making you worry about me and shoulder the messes I didn't dare to face." His voice was deep and steady, every word revealing his sincerity. "But it's different now. We agreed, right? It's not about who protects whom, it's about sticking together."

After saying that, Xiu Yi gently released Xing Guang's hand, his fingertips rubbing against the back of her hand soothingly. He looked up and gave her an exceptionally firm look, a look that contained no hint of bravado, only a heavy sense of responsibility.

Before he could finish speaking, his figure flashed and disappeared from the spot, accompanied by a slight ripple in the air.

Downstairs at the Waterhouse, reporters were in complete disarray.

Some people frantically dialed the phone, shouting to notify the police and ambulances; others, however, refused to miss the shocking scene, even with bloodstains on the ground beneath their feet, still holding up their cameras, snapping photos with a clattering sound, their lenses fixed on the superhuman corpses falling from the sky.

Amidst the chaos, a muffled thud was heard, and another body wrapped in a black overcoat crashed heavily to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. The reporters gasped in fright and backed away, only to see that the overcoat was already soaked in blood and tattered.

After a brief moment of unconsciousness, the butcher convulsed violently. He struggled to sit up, a sharp pain shooting through his chest, and coughed up a mouthful of black blood.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his cloudy eyes fixed on the towering rooftop of the Water Tower, his eyes surging with an unyielding ferocity, the veins on his hands bulging as he tried to get up and continue charging upwards.

"Billy!"

A shout rang out, and Hugh, completely naked, suddenly appeared out of thin air and landed steadily beside him.

The butcher, as if grasping at a last straw, gripped Hugh's wrist tightly, his knuckles white with force. His voice, hoarse as if sandpaper were being rubbed, carried an undeniable urgency: "Quick! Go find that son of a bitch Locke! Get him to come help! This is our only chance to kill Homelander!"

"But..." Hugh frowned, looking at his vomiting blood, his eyes full of concern.

"Stop talking nonsense! Go!" the butcher growled, shaking off his hand. His chest heaved, but he still managed to squeeze out, "I won't die!"

Hugh gritted his teeth, knowing there was no point in arguing with him now. He took one last look at the butcher's resolute face, then vanished from the spot.

The next second, Hugh's figure flickered continuously in the corridors of the Water Tower. He teleported frantically throughout the building, oblivious to the shards of glass that grazed his skin, leaving fine bloodstains. His eyes scanned every corner anxiously as he frantically searched for the whereabouts of Hungry Wolf Locke.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop of the Water Tower.

Homelander grabbed the soldier boy by the collar and threw him onto the cold ground. He stood high above him, looking down at this so-called "father." The wind blew his blood-stained cloak, and a strange crimson hue appeared on the horizon, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made it hard to breathe.

After a long while, Homelander slowly raised his head, his chest still heaving slightly from the rage he had just felt. He stared at the clouds on the horizon, which were dyed by the blood-red setting sun. His eyes were initially blank, but then suddenly filled with an almost manic heat.

His voice was initially low and hoarse, like a murmur squeezed from the depths of his throat, but it grew louder and higher, carrying an undeniable obsession and fanaticism, echoing across the empty rooftop:

"I am the strongest... I am the most perfect..."

He suddenly raised his hand, his fingertips almost touching the reddish sky, the madness in his voice completely breaking free of its restraints, his roar echoing through the heavens:

"I am God! I am—God!!"