The planning session, if one could call it that, convened in a less chaotic, heavily warded strategy room within the Royal Palace. Maps depicting the Kingdom of Midgar and its surrounding territories were spread across a large mahogany table. Iris, Alexia, and a handful of trusted Royal strategists, their faces etched with a mixture of apprehension and grim resolve, were present. Rose Oriana observed quietly, her keen eyes missing nothing. Sherry Barnett had been reluctantly persuaded to remain in her lab, under guard, lest she try to "collect samples" from Saitama or Genos during a critical moment.
Shadow, naturally, occupied the darkest corner of the room, a barely discernible silhouette from which his pronouncements emanated like oracular decrees. Saitama was attempting to balance a sugar bowl on his head, looking mildly perplexed when it kept tipping. Genos stood rigidly beside him, occasionally offering minute adjustments based on wind currents and barometric pressure readings only he could detect.
"The Cult's primary stronghold in this region," Shadow began, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the strategists, "is rumored to be hidden deep within the Desolation Peaks, a treacherous mountain range to the north. It is said to be built around an ancient nexus of demonic energy, a place where the veil between worlds is thin." He paused for dramatic effect. "They call it 'Diablos's Cradle.'"
One of the strategists, a wizened old man named General Valerius, frowned. "Diablos's Cradle? That is but legend, Shadow. A cautionary tale to frighten children. No one has ventured into the Desolation Peaks and returned for centuries."
"Legends, General," Shadow's voice dripped with condescension, "are often merely truths that have been forgotten or deliberately obscured. My sources," (he subtly implied a vast, unseen network of perfect spies) "confirm its existence. And it is there, I believe, that they are attempting to perform a ritual of profound significance, perhaps even a preliminary summoning linked to the entity Diablos himself."
Alexia, ever impatient, slammed a fist on the table. "Then we go there! We storm this 'Cradle' and put an end to them!"
"A direct assault would be… predictable, Princess," Shadow countered smoothly. "And costly. The Desolation Peaks are a natural fortress, riddled with traps, magical wards, and undoubtedly guarded by their most fanatic zealots. We would be walking into their kill zone."
Saitama, having given up on the sugar bowl, now picked up a quill and began idly trying to balance it on his nose. "So, what? We send them, like, a strongly worded letter? 'Dear Cult Guys, please stop being evil. It's really bumming everyone out. Sincerely, People Who Like Quiet Afternoons.'"
Iris shot him an exasperated look, but Shadow actually let out a dry chuckle, a sound like rustling gravestones. 'His feigned idiocy continues to be a masterpiece of misdirection. He trivializes the gravest threats, lulling his opponents – and perhaps even his 'allies' – into a false sense of… something. What, I am yet to fully discern. But it is magnificent!'
"Your… directness… has a certain charm, Caped One," Shadow conceded. "But a more… nuanced approach is required. A surgical strike, if you will. We need to infiltrate, ascertain the nature of their ritual, identify key targets – perhaps artifacts they are using or key figures leading the ceremony – and then… dismantle it from within."
General Valerius scoffed. "Infiltrate Diablos's Cradle? With all due respect, Shadow, that is even more ludicrous than a frontal assault! Their defenses would be impenetrable."
"Not for everyone," Shadow said, a subtle emphasis on the last word. His unseen gaze flicked towards Saitama, who had managed to get the quill to balance for a glorious half-second before it tumbled off. "The Cult will be expecting resistance in forms they understand: knights, mages, perhaps even rival shadow organizations. They will not be prepared for… him."
Saitama looked up. "Me? You want me to sneak in? I'm not really a sneaky guy. My suit's kinda bright. And I tend to, y'know, break things. Loudly."
"Precisely," Shadow purred. "Your… unsubtlety… will be our greatest weapon. While their attention is focused on the overt, impossible chaos you will undoubtedly create at their front door, a smaller, more… discreet… team can slip in through the ensuing pandemonium. This team," he gestured vaguely towards Iris, Alexia, and by implication, himself and perhaps Rose, "will be tasked with the true objective: disrupting the ritual and securing any artifacts of power."
Iris frowned. "So, Saitama-san is to be… a diversion? A one-man wrecking crew to draw their fire?"
Saitama considered this. "So, I just go in and punch stuff until they're all looking at me, and then you guys sneak around and do your thing? Sounds… pretty straightforward. And I get to punch stuff. Okay, I can do that. As long as there's a decent snack bar afterwards. All this planning makes a guy hungry."
Genos, ever practical, interjected, "Master, while your capacity for destructive engagement is unparalleled, a strategic diversion of this magnitude will still require careful coordination. I can provide real-time tactical analysis, identify structural weaknesses in their fortress for optimal entry points for you, and ensure minimal collateral damage to… historically significant mountain ranges, if possible."
"Good thinking, Genos!" Saitama beamed. "See? He gets it. Teamwork!"
Shadow suppressed a sigh. 'He reduces a complex infiltration and sabotage mission, a symphony of stealth and subterfuge, to 'punching stuff' and 'teamwork.' And yet… his simple-minded approach may be precisely what makes it so terrifyingly effective. The Cult will analyze, strategize, predict… and he will simply walk through their front door and dismantle their reality, while they're still trying to calculate the trajectory of his first, city-leveling sneeze.'
Alexia, however, looked intrigued. "A diversion, you say? A massive, city-destroying, attention-grabbing diversion? I like the sound of that. While he's making them wish they'd chosen a quieter hobby, we can slip in and cut the head off the snake." Her eyes gleamed with a predatory light.
Rose Oriana spoke for the first time, her voice calm and measured. "The Desolation Peaks are not just physically treacherous, Shadow. The ambient demonic energy there is said to be corrosive, capable of twisting minds and corrupting souls. Are we prepared for such an environment?"
"The resolute heart, Lady Oriana," Shadow intoned, "is its own shield against such miasmas. And for those less… spiritually fortified," (a subtle dig at the others, perhaps?) "I possess certain… countermeasures. Amulets of warding, elixirs of clarity. Minor trinkets, really, for those who require such things." He was, of course, subtly boasting of Shadow Garden's advanced alchemical and runic capabilities.
General Valerius still looked deeply skeptical. "This plan hinges entirely on this… Saitama… being able to single-handedly engage the entirety of Diablos's Cradle. If he falls, or is overwhelmed…"
Saitama snorted. "Overwhelmed? By what? A strongly worded memo? Look, old timer, no offense, but you guys worry too much. It's just punching. How hard can it be?" He flexed his bicep, the yellow fabric of his suit straining slightly. The air in the room seemed to subtly compress for a moment.
The General visibly paled and took a step back.
Iris sighed. "Alright, Shadow. Let us assume, for the sake of argument, that Saitama-san can indeed provide the… diversion of the century. What is our objective once inside? What are we looking for?"
"The 'Heart of Diablos,'" Shadow said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, laden with dark import. "It is rumored to be an artifact of immense power, a crystallized fragment of the demon lord's own essence. It is likely the focal point of their ritual. Securing it, or destroying it, will shatter their plans and deal a crippling blow to the Cult." He also mentally noted that such an artifact, if secured by him, could be… studied. Perhaps even… utilized… for his own, far grander, shadowy purposes. The thought sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.
"The Heart of Diablos…" Rose murmured, her eyes distant. "I have read of it in the forbidden archives. It is said to pulse with an insatiable hunger, to call to those with darkness in their hearts…"
"Then it will be singing a siren song to every cultist in that mountain," Alexia said grimly. "All the more reason to get to it first."
"Precisely," Shadow affirmed. "The Caped One will create the opening. Genos, his… herald… will ensure the opening remains… open. Princess Iris, Princess Alexia, Lady Oriana, and myself will form the infiltration team. We move swiftly, locate the Heart, and neutralize the threat. Simple. Elegant. Devastating." 'And I shall observe how these 'heroes' handle true demonic corruption, and how the 'Paradox Engine' reacts when faced with an artifact of such concentrated malevolence. More data for the grand experiment.'
Saitama, meanwhile, had found a stray bread roll from breakfast and was attempting to teach it to fetch. "C'mon, rolly. Go get it! Go on! Useless." He sighed, popping it into his mouth. "Guess bread isn't as smart as dogs. Or maybe it's just stale."
The sheer, jarring contrast between the deadly serious planning and Saitama's utter lack of concern was, to the Midgar natives, still profoundly unsettling. But they were beginning, just beginning, to accept it as a new, terrifying, and occasionally baffling, constant in their lives.
"When do we depart?" Iris asked, her gaze firm. She was a warrior; plans were made to be executed.
"At dusk," Shadow declared. "The cover of night will aid our approach to the Peaks. And the darkness… the darkness is always my ally." He made a subtle gesture, and the shadows in his corner seemed to deepen, to writhe with unspoken power.
"Dusk, huh?" Saitama said. "Cool. That gives me time for a nap. All this thinking is tiring. Genos, you got that alarm clock app working on your arm yet? Don't want to oversleep for the… uh… mountain punching party."
Genos nodded. "Affirmative, Master. I have calibrated a multi-phase alarm system, including sonic pulses, gentle vibratory alerts, and, as a final resort, a minor, localized EMP burst, should you prove unusually resistant to waking."
Saitama shuddered. "Whoa, easy there, Genos. The vibrations are fine. Don't want my fillings to fall out before I even get to the mountains."
As the meeting concluded, and the Midgar strategists dispersed to make their preparations, still looking dazed, Shadow lingered for a moment. Iris approached him.
"Shadow," she said, her voice low. "This plan… it relies heavily on Saitama-san. Are you certain he is… reliable? Not in terms of power, but… intent? He seems so… detached."
Shadow turned his hooded head towards her. "Reliability, Princess, is a matter of perspective. He is reliable in his pursuit of… whatever currently holds his fleeting interest. Today, it is making things quieter and getting a good meal. Tomorrow, it may be something else entirely. Our task is to ensure our objectives align with his current… trajectory." He paused. "And as for his detachment… perhaps that is his greatest strength. He is unburdened by fear, by ambition, by the complex webs of intrigue that ensnare lesser beings. He simply… is. And sometimes, Princess, that is precisely what a world teetering on the brink of chaos requires. An anchor of absolute, unyielding, and utterly indifferent, power."
With that cryptic pronouncement, Shadow seemed to melt further into the gloom, leaving Iris to ponder his words. She glanced towards the doorway, where Saitama was already heading, presumably in search of a comfortable napping spot, Genos dutifully following. A part of her still couldn't believe this was happening. Their kingdom's fate, their world's salvation, might hinge on a bald man in a yellow suit whose primary motivations appeared to be food and avoiding boredom.
It was, she had to admit, a thrilling, terrifying, and utterly absurd prospect. The goosebumps were definitely back. And as she thought of the Desolation Peaks, of Diablos's Cradle, and the "mountain punching party" to come, she couldn't help but feel a shiver of something that might have been horrified anticipation. This was going to be a chapter for the history books. Assuming there were any history books left afterwards.