In the Deep Sea King's chaotic and violent mind, the twisted, terrified faces of countless land creatures he had tortured, killed, and devoured were forcibly dragged out by the terrifying spiritual impact. Their desperate cries and venomous curses wildly expanded, echoing in the depths of his consciousness.
"Roar… no… get away!"
The Deep Sea King let out a terrified roar, his movements inevitably slowing for just a moment.
That single moment was enough.
Kaito spread his right hand, five fingers opening as a dark green light rapidly condensed in his palm. The glow compressed tightly, exuding a chillingly corrosive aura.
Carbonated Gas Bomb — Precision Guidance!
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Three dark green beams of corrosive energy shot forth like venomous serpents. They slipped past the Deep Sea King's guarded arms, striking with unerring accuracy at the vulnerable scale joints of his shoulder blades, side waist, and thighs.
"Screeech—!!!"
A teeth-grinding sound erupted as his tough scales met their bane. The corrosive beams tore through him like hot oil melting butter. Flesh hissed, dissolved, and smoked, while muscle tissue festered and sloughed away, revealing stark white bone beneath.
"Awooo—!!!"
This time, the roar carried not only rage, but raw, primal agony—laced with something deeper. Fear.
Physical penetration. Internal shattering. The corrosive burn of melting scales. And the unrelenting spiritual bombardment clawing at his very soul.
Kaito was merciless. A cold, precise surgeon. An Emperor of punishment. The Deep Sea King became nothing more than a specimen, writhing beneath the test of pain's cruel limits.
Every strike was calculated, directed at the most excruciating points, yet never at fatal spots. Death was delayed—suffering magnified.
Five minutes.
Under the horrified gaze of thousands huddled in the shelter. Five minutes that felt like a million years in hell to the so-called Overlord of the Sea.
His once-mountainous body now resembled a mutilated husk, riddled with charred pits corroded by the Carbonated Gas Bomb. Dark green blood and shredded tissue poured from his wounds. His organs, long since shattered by the penetrating force of the Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist, bled with every tortured breath.
But worse than all of this—the torment of his spirit.
Every booming heartbeat of the Emperor Engine slammed into his mind like a warhammer, cramming it full of the horrific faces and screams of those he had butchered. His body writhed and convulsed helplessly in the mud. His strength, his speed, his proud defenses—all made meaningless under the precise, ruthless punishment of Kaito.
He finally understood.
The man before him, cloaked in a dark red aura with a heartbeat like a war drum, was no human. He was the real monster.
"Mo… monster…"
Bloodshot eyes locked onto Kaito's advancing figure. A broken, hoarse gasp squeezed from the Deep Sea King's throat, heavy with fear. Instinct seized him—he clawed backward, dragging his massive bulk through the mud, leaving a long trail of blood in a desperate bid to escape.
Kaito halted before him. The falling rain evaporated before it could touch his body. His gaze was cold, devoid of anger, pity, or satisfaction. Only an indifference that froze the heart.
The roar of the Emperor Engine reached its zenith.
"Boom—!!!"
The dark red aura surged outward, compressing violently until a ten-meter radius crimson domain erupted around him, the very air warping.
Emperor Engine · Deterrence Domain · Overclock Mode!!!
Within that domain, spiritual pressure doubled. Nerves dulled, slowed. The Deep Sea King felt as though he were plunged into the black depths of a ten-thousand-meter trench, crushed by an invisible weight threatening to pulverize his body, his mind, his soul.
His last shreds of consciousness shattered under the hammering heartbeat. Nothing remained but endless mountains of corpses, rivers of blood, and the deafening wails of the damned.
"Roar…"
A faint whimper, tinged with unbearable pain and boundless fear, rasped from his ruined throat. The savagery in his eyes was gone, extinguished, leaving behind only death's shadow and trembling reverence.
His massive body convulsed one final time, then collapsed, still and silent in the cold mud.
[Ding! Successfully deterred and killed Ghost-level Disaster: Deep Sea King! Cause of death—extreme pain! Deterrence Points +1000!]
The boiling crimson aura slowly receded. The thunderous heartbeat of the Emperor Engine faded, leaving Kaito standing alone amidst the silence.
Cold rain fell once more, washing away the sticky, dark green blood of the Deep Sea King that clung to Kaito's fingers.
He turned slowly, his gaze falling upon the stunned civilians gathered at the shelter's entrance. Their tear-streaked faces were frozen in disbelief. Then his eyes shifted to Mumen Rider, unconscious in Saitama's arms, and the fallen heroes lying silent in the mud.
The rain kept pouring.
For a long time, no one spoke. Only the sound of water dripping and the distant roll of thunder filled the air. Finally, the civilians began to stir.
They looked at one another, wide-eyed, still unable to believe what had happened.
"Won… won?" A woman clutching her child whispered, her voice trembling.
"Mr. King won!" someone cried out.
A cheer erupted from the crowd, raw and desperate. "As expected of the strongest man on the surface!"
"That's great! We're saved!"
The cheers swelled, rising and falling like waves. People embraced, sobbing in relief. For a moment, it felt as if the nightmare had lifted.
But then—
"Tsk. That monster wasn't even that strong."
The sharp, mocking voice cut through the joy like a blade.
The cheers died instantly. Heads turned.
At the edge of the crowd stood a greasy-faced man in a gaudy floral shirt, lips curled into a sneer.
"What did you say?" Someone demanded. "So many A-Class heroes fell! Lightning Max, Stinger—"
"That only proves they were too weak," the man interrupted, smugness dripping from every word. He pointed first at the Deep Sea King's corpse lying in the mud, then at Kaito.
"Look! After Mr. King arrived, that monster didn't even touch him! Not once! He just stood there and took hit after hit until he collapsed! What does that show?"
He let the silence hang, eyes darting around with a self-satisfied gleam before spitting out the answer:
"It shows that monster was all bluff—a paper tiger! And those so-called heroes who lost to him…" He drew out the words, lips twisting, "…heh, trash."
Angry voices immediately rose from the crowd.
"Shut up!" a young man shouted, stepping forward with clenched fists. "How can you say that? They fought with everything they had to protect us!"
The sleazy man's eyes lit up as if he had struck gold, his grin widening. He basked in their anger, feeding on it.
"Protect us? Don't make me laugh. Fighting? Anyone can swing a fist around. Heroes? Hah! They're just useless brutes wasting our taxpayer money!"
He jabbed a finger toward the fallen heroes, his tone swelling louder, louder—
"Tell me, what's the point of heroes rushing in if they just end up as corpses? They're no different from ordinary people—no, worse! All they do is cause more trouble. Cannon fodder, nothing more!"
He paused dramatically, as if unveiling some profound truth.
"Think about it! What's the smarter way? Don't fight recklessly—just stall for time until a real powerhouse like Mr. King shows up. That's all it takes! Anyone could do it. I could too—"
His words cut off.
A shadow fell over him.
The man froze, eyes slowly lifting.
The figure that had been standing dozens of meters away only moments ago was now right before him—silent, immovable, radiating the suffocating presence of a god of war.
Kaito.