Centered on him, within a radius of ten thousand meters, every Mark armor was instantly annihilated. Soldiers, civilians, it didn't matter—none survived.
Fragments rained down like deadly ash.
Below the shockwave, Secretary of State John and the remaining dozen congressmen turned pale as sheets, their lips trembling as they stared wide-eyed at Boros.
"Any more? These pitiful insects?"
Boros sneered. To him, wiping out ten thousand armored suits was no different from brushing away dust. Blood and iron? Ruthless slaughter?
For Boros, this was daily routine.
Saturday Sale had told Saitama she would handle this, and she understood the truth:
Be kind to some men, and they repay you with malice.
Be cruel to others, and they bow in gratitude.
That was human nature.
As for the innocent civilians and soldiers who bought Mark armor? Weakness itself was a sin. Justice was never as simple as saving the weak. If their existence allowed Hydra to seize world power, then far more innocents would die later. Who would they blame then?
That was why Saturday Sale released Boros.
In times of peace, rule with kindness.
In times of chaos, rule with iron.
Boros's ruthless method shocked Hydra to their core. The swarm of Mark suits froze midair, terrified. One strike had annihilated ten thousand armors without even showing his figure.
Was there even a point in fighting?
"No… don't kill me. I surrender! I surrender!!"
John collapsed under the crushing pressure, dropping to his knees. The others followed like dominos, banging their heads on the ground.
"Begging for mercy?"
Boros smirked, amused.
"Spare me! I was forced, I never wanted to oppose you!"
"Please, great one, save me!"
"Don't kill me, mighty lord!"
Their groveling echoed through the hall. This monster's power—one move destroying ten thousand armors—was terrifying beyond belief. Could even Saitama match that?
"Sorry, your minute is up. Now… go to hell."
Boros lifted his hand. His fingers clenched.
BOOM—!
The parliament building collapsed, replaced by a crater a kilometer wide. The ground was scorched black, the ruins silent. Boros alone stood calm in the center, while every Hydra official had been obliterated, not even ash remaining.
Some civilians had died too. Was it cruel?
Not to Boros. The strong owed nothing to the weak. If weakness meant death, then the weak could challenge him themselves. That was his rule—tyranny as justice.
Above, the Mark army and countless soldiers froze in shock. Former President Edward himself, just leaving the ruins, stared in horror.
"What's wrong? Are you still planning to fight? If so, come together. I don't have time to waste on insects."
Boros's mocking tone cut through the silence. Hydra's military leaders were dead, leaving the Mark army leaderless.
"W-wait! Stop! Do not attack!!"
Edward, stripped of his power, suddenly became the pillar of the moment. He stood tall, voice unwavering.
"John and the others betrayed us—they were Hydra! They've already been executed! No one move!"
At his side appeared a graceful figure—Saturday Sale. The events of the parliament had been recorded for Edward and select officials to see. They now understood why he had been ousted.
"Hydra? Edward, you're no longer president. You think we'll believe just your word? This man destroyed our parliament, killed our new leader. Kill him!!"
A voice rang from within the Mark army like a spark in a powder keg.
The rage of the soldiers and citizens erupted. Armors roared to life, swarming Boros once more.
"Heh, courting death."
Boros's eye flashed. He surged forward in a blur, ripping open the faceplate of one Mark armor. Inside, Baron Zemo's crazed face was revealed.
Zemo laughed madly: "Even if you kill me, the Mark army will bury you! You'll be the enemy of the entire nation! Stark, Rogers—I'll see you all in hell!!"
Crunch!
Boros crushed Zemo and his armor into scrap with a single stomp.
That act sparked full-scale war. The steel tide surged toward him.
Edward's face went white. If Boros and this army clashed, the entire nation could fall. And even as former president, he had no power left to stop it.
But then—
"Hummmm—"
The Mark armors froze midair.
"What's happening?!"
Pilots and civilians inside stared in confusion.
"Master control override. Command transferred. Awaiting orders from Lady Saturday Sale."
The synthetic voice echoed through every armor.
Rebels: "…"
Terrorists: "…"
Civilians: "…"
Saturday Sale stood quietly, clad in black armor. While Saitama was arrested, she had already worked with JARVIS, acquiring full control over all Mark technology—even Stark's developing Mark V models.
Because she was the true big sister.
With her super-intelligence, as long as the armors connected online, she owned them. And all of them were connected.
Now, the steel army belonged to Saturday Sale.
"Bind them all."
Her lips curved slightly.
Kak-kak-kak—!
The Mark suits reshaped into iron cages, trapping every occupant. In mere seconds, hundreds of thousands were imprisoned inside their own armor, dragged helplessly to the ground.
"Mr. President, the rest is up to you."
Her hologram smiled faintly. Edward stood stunned, unable to process.
Boros yawned, bored. "Call me when you've got a stronger opponent." With that, he vanished back into the space cube.
Meanwhile—inside the VIP prison cell, a major problem was brewing.
(End of Chapter)
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