Neo's bullet-dodge is a classic scene from the sci-fi film The Matrix.
Seeing Saitama recreate it here—in a mechanical metropolis ruled by Decepticons—filled the fleeing civilians with hope.
"So a savior really does exist!"
From the moment Saitama gave them hope, the civilians started to act.
They opened fire on the robots blocking their way.
Gunfire rolled across City One, but each shot marked another awakening.
One awakened civilian is nothing.
Tens of thousands—terrifying.
That was when Scourge, Saitama's current opponent, grew furious.
He blamed Saitama for the chaos in City One, and every strike he threw carried his rage.
"Argh! You wretch—look what you've done to the city I brought to heel!"
Seeing the arm-mounted gatlings fail, Scourge instantly switched to a heavy rocket launcher.
"Even if I have to level City One today, I'll erase you!"
With a roar, the rocket spat from his arm. His internal targeting locked onto Saitama's movement.
"5…4…3…2…"
As the warhead was about to hit, a crude grin split Scourge's iron face.
"Boy, that cost me 80% of my compute to line up. Die."
Then came the impossible.
Boom.
Saitama met the warhead with his fist—stopping it cold.
The detonation blossomed like a sun, flames ballooning to swallow them both.
Yet neither moved.
Scourge's steel body endured the heat.
Saitama, growing stronger mid-fight, simply ignored it.
They clashed again.
This time, Scourge had no trump card left.
Every punch Saitama landed dented him deeper.
Under that blinding flurry, Scourge's frame began to loosen; it felt like his "bones" were coming apart.
"What… what kind of monster is this?!"
Scourge's CPU kept calculating Saitama's punch speed and force—numbers spiking higher and higher.
For a second, he thought of myths—of a saint who hurled a storm of blows.
No—he could handle Pegasus Meteor Fist.
But he could not handle Saitama's fist.
Mustering the last of his power, he raised a steel shield—
Saitama punched through it and hammered his face.
Thud.
The tyrant who'd lorded over City One for years crashed down.
The entire city erupted in cheers.
Sixshot, Scourge's tag-along, turned into a bike and tried to bolt—
Saitama snagged a wheel, yanked him back, and—crack—tore him in half.
The crowd fell silent for a beat—then applauded even harder.
Saitama's reputation meter skyrocketed.
10,000.
100,000.
1,000,000.
He'd felled City One's Decepticons and earned a full million reputation.
Saitama was stunned.
So, in the T5 world, saving and helping civilians paid like this?
His resolve hardened.
He would liberate every city under Decepticon rule—then crush Megatron.
Afterward, Saitama asked Andrew to organize the civilians: protect themselves, stop the bullying, use the city's infrastructure to hold what they'd freed.
Andrew hesitated. "Chief Saitama, the Cybertronian monsters control our planet. Their bodies and tech outclass us—and their communications are far superior. We can't reach the outside to prove City One's been freed."
Saitama caught the contradiction.
"If that's true—if the Cybertronians hold the whole Earth—why leave humans any cities at all?"
In his mind, Megatron had no "human kindness."
He voiced the doubt, and Andrew froze. He'd been a U.S. soldier: follow orders, execute orders—thinking outside the mission was… not his forte.
Someone else, though, was quick.
Vivian—the cool beauty Saitama had rescued when he first entered City One—found the key at once.
"According to prior government briefings, the Transformers' power comes from the AllSpark. Megatron's conquest relies on it. If the AllSpark can't give him total dominance over Earth… doesn't that mean its power hasn't been fully awakened yet?"
Saying it out loud, she felt the deeper thread tug tight.
She had been confined in City One and forced to lecture on King Arthur, the wizard Merlin, and the Crusades. They wanted one thing: the location of Merlin's staff.
If all of that was true…
A colder thought struck Vivian.
Had the Decepticons been right to force those lessons out of her?
"Um…"
She saw Saitama being mobbed with cheers and didn't know whether to interrupt. Oddly, seeing him celebrated stirred a sweet, private joy—like the man she liked was finally recognized.
So she only lifted the corners of her lips and watched him until the crowd thinned.
Then she slipped to his side.
"Hey, great hero—I want to talk."
(End of Chapter)
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