Kaito intended to seek out Saitama, asking him to help deal with the spaceship hovering over A City. This colossal vessel not only hindered A City's post-disaster reconstruction efforts but also posed a massive safety hazard. When A City residents had been forced to evacuate, the Hero Association had promised that once the crisis was resolved they would allocate a free housing unit of no less than one hundred square meters to each household, along with a commuter vehicle, to ensure basic living needs upon return.
The problem was that all the alien operators on the ship had been cleared, and training human pilots quickly wasn't feasible. After much thought, Kaito concluded that the only way to move that giant vessel was to rely on Saitama's extraordinary brute strength.
As soon as he stepped out of the building, Kaito saw Saitama from afar, surrounded by a group of high-ranking Association officials. Genos, Bang, Tong Di, and Pig God stood beside him, while other S-Class heroes had already left for other commitments.
Kaito at first assumed the officials had come to curry favor. After all, Saitama's battle with Boros had fully demonstrated his terrifying strength. Promoting him to S-Class would be a belated act of justice—for both the Association's reputation and Saitama himself. But as Kaito drew closer, the words that reached his ears almost made him laugh in disgust.
Leading the group was Geburich, head of the Armaments Department—a corpulent, conniving man. He waved his short, stubby fingers and spat grandiloquent rhetoric as if trying to shackle Saitama with words.
"Saitama-kun! You must understand, the conquest of this alien spaceship was by no means your achievement alone! It is the collective result of everyone's bloody struggle; how can it be called your personal spoils of war?"
Beside him, the financial director Durgeiba, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, chimed in immediately. "Director Geburich is right. More importantly, you are all registered heroes affiliated with the Hero Association! According to Association regulations, ownership of strategic enemy assets acquired during missions belongs to the Association for unified management, research, and disposal! The Association will of course provide corresponding points rewards and material compensation based on everyone's contributions."
Their talk of "compensation" sounded laughably paltry compared to the ship's true value. Tanaka, the sharp-faced HR manager, was even more direct—half-coaxing, half-threatening.
"Saitama-kun, we know your strength is extraordinary, and your promotion to S-Class Hero is a certainty. But S-Class ranking, especially the top position, considers not only strength but also achievements and loyalty to the Association! If you hand the spaceship over for the Association to handle, it will be a monumental achievement. We can absolutely arrange for you to leap to the number-one S-Class position! An unparalleled honor!"
All their woven words carried one core message: the Association was claiming the ship.
Saitama's face darkened. His iconic deadpan gaze, usually placid, now churned with a rare storm. He'd never cared about S-Class rankings or empty fame; any interest he'd shown before was only to stave off boredom. But he wasn't so naïve as to miss the calculation and greed threaded through their speech. They treated him—and the heroes who'd fought—with contempt, as tools to be exploited.
A wave of unprecedented disappointment and anger surged in his simple, pure heart.
"The Hero Association?" he muttered, the realization tasting bitter. "So that's their true face."
"You bastards!"
Genos was already seething. The Incineration Cannon on his mechanical arm began to charge rapidly as he roared, "How dare you insult my master like this—and try to seize my master's spoils of war? You'll all be reduced to ashes!"
The scorching heat from the cannon warped the air. Several officials nearby went pale and stumbled back.
"Genos! Calm down! They are, after all, high-ranking Association officials—" Bang cut in, stepping between Genos and the officials. He pressed his palm against Genos's poised cannon arm and forcibly restrained him. The old martial artist despised the officials' shamelessness, but he understood the consequences of violent action here.
Geburich, sensing someone else was intervening, went smug. "Genos, you dare threaten an Association official? Do you believe I won't immediately revoke your S-Class qualification?"
"Revoke? S-Class Hero?" Genos laughed through his fury. The light from his Incineration Cannon flared, not diminishing but growing brighter. "This Hero Association—a den of iniquity. This so-called S-Class title—I don't want it! Even if Master Bang stops me today, I will burn all you scumbags to ashes!"
Just as the atmosphere tightened, on the brink of exploding, a crisp, unexpected round of applause broke the tension.
"Well said, Genos. For such parasites, the most direct method is needed. Send them to meet their great-grandmothers!"
Kaito clapped his hands, walking leisurely through the parted crowd with Tornado and Chiba Reina at his side. The officials who had been so arrogant moments ago went as quiet as mice at the sight of a cat; their swagger vanished without a trace.
Against Saitama they could hide behind "rules" and "status," confident the bald man wouldn't actually do anything. But facing Kaito—this terrifying figure whispered about as the "Strongest Man on Earth," the one whose heartbeat could make high-ranking officials lose control in meetings—they knew better. They knew Kaito's methods too well.
This man didn't play their games or fall for their tricks. He might not kill outright, but his punishments were worse than death: bone-deep soul suppression, the Emperor Engine pressure that haunted victims into waking screams for nights on end. The memory of it alone could make a person beg for oblivion.
Kaito strode to the center of the crowd, stood beside Saitama, and scanned each official face like a predator sizing up prey. Those whose eyes met his hunched their necks and lowered their heads, desperate not to be noticed.
"Speak up. Why did you stop?" Kaito asked. "Weren't you just full of eloquence—collective merit, Association property, the empty title of number-one S-Class… Didn't you say you wanted to seize my spaceship?"
Cold sweat trickled down Geburich's forehead. He forced out, "Kaito, you can't put it that way… We're acting for the overall benefit of the Association—"
"Bullshit!" Kaito roared.
Geburich's legs gave out as if they'd been cut from under him; he collapsed to his knees with a thud. Kaito had no interest in lingering over the pig-like official. He turned and patted Saitama's shoulder with a casual, almost affectionate gesture.
"Saitama, my brother," he said, voice low and even, "they're bullying you because you're too honest. The simplest way to deal with scumbags like these is—"
"Boom—!!!"
The Emperor Engine detonated across the plaza like a thunderclap.
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