Inside the Decepticon intranet, processors spun up and replayed the battle frame by frame.
Only then did the Decepticons finally grasp that Saitama's "strength" was far beyond anything they'd imagined. Carbon-based life shouldn't survive hypersonic transit—air resistance stacks into a sonic barrier, and the thermal load alone should cook a human. Yet Saitama had simply erased those limits.
"What kind of monster is he?"
They watched Saitama shield Vivian and rush Barricade—then, the instant every energy beam converged on him, stamp the ground and spike his speed, blitzing straight through beneath Barricade's chassis. The twin homing missiles that had been tracking him instead slammed into Barricade.
If it had ended there, the Decepticons wouldn't have been surprised; with luck and position, even they could pull a stunt like that. But Saitama didn't stop. In the same heartbeat that the missiles struck, he moved again—so fast the replay needed even slower slow-mo—one punch, one kick, one drive-through shoulder… and several mechs who'd once fought star-to-star alongside them lay flattened.
They had to admit: if they'd met Saitama while invading other worlds, they'd have been beaten back to Cybertron on day one.
"Lord Megatron… what do we do?"
Silence flooded the network. Then, as if on cue, they pushed the question up the chain—to Megatron. In moments like this you needed a leader to tell you what came next.
"Useless. All of you are useless!"
Megatron almost felt like an old wartime tyrant berating his generals—but he was a machine. He let the anger flare, then shuttered it.
"We have one option. We use the AllSpark to strengthen ourselves."
Cheering rippled through the ranks—eager, desperate, forgetting Saitama for a moment in the thrill of promised power.
"But hear me," Megatron added, voice hard. "I'll grant each of you one round of enhancement. In return, you bring me Saitama."
Sweep away the obstacle to Merlin's staff, and Cybertron could be summoned back; harness Earth's core, and their homeworld would be reforged.
"Track Saitama. I'm retrieving the AllSpark."
Orders issued, Megatron set course—Sector Seven.
In the original timeline, that prison had held him. Now, it was his vault on Earth.
"The AllSpark…"
When he saw it, a different light kindled in his optics. That vast cube had once forged everything Cybertronian. Now he needed it again.
He reached out. The glyph-etched cube seemed almost alive, sensing his will, folding in on itself until it shrank to a great, graspable block.
"Let's see you handle this, Saitama."
One thing was now certain: Megatron had marked Saitama as the strongest foe of his life.
On the other side, Saitama—having crumpled a whole Decepticon squad—scooped up a few more "model" mechs. Barricade's figure was especially detailed, even came with a sword. As it slipped into his pack, his system chimed: stats up again.
"Huh. Didn't expect a Barricade model to hit that hard," he muttered—but his face barely changed. After so many enhancements, even power-ups felt routine. At the end of the road, strength leaves only loneliness.
Fortunately, he wasn't alone. Vivian was here.
Saitama took her hand. "All done. Let's keep moving."
"Okay!"
At dusk, Saitama gunned a roaring Harley through the long American twilight, the beauty at his back, heading straight for the White House.
"Saitama, were you really just… punching them out?"
"Mm."
"How do you do that?"
"Dunno. I just… punch. Then they fall."
Alone together, he let the corner of his mouth hitch up—put on a tiny bit of cool for once.
The White House.
The U.S. President stared at the stream of reports from the Marine Corps and the Transformer Response Unit.
"My God… a human that strong? He beats Transformers with his fists!"
If he weren't physically standing in the White House, he'd swear he was in a theater watching Michael Bay in 3D IMAX.
"This is insane. Unreal!"
Americans really did love those two adjectives. His secretary winced.
"Ahem—Mr. President, new radio intercept: Saitama is heading here."
"He's—he's coming here?"
Shock rolled through him again. "Wh-why?"
"I don't know, sir. You can ask him when he arrives."
"Right. Right. Good!"
The secretary coughed. "Sir, perhaps… a bit less like a starstruck fan?"
The President straightened, assumed a statesman's posture. "By the way—did my hamburger arrive?"
"Not yet. But another update: Saitama has reached the White House."
"What? He's here?!"
He snapped instantly into host-mode.
When Saitama arrived, the President bustled forward, beaming, both hands outstretched.
"Hero—thank goodness you're here!"
(End of Chapter)
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