"Th-That's Saitama, the savior of humankind?"
"I never thought I'd see him with my own eyes in this lifetime!"
"He looks exactly like the broadcasts described!"
"Quiet—everyone, quiet!" An aged voice rose from the crowd. People instinctively parted, opening a path for a white-haired old man leaning on a cane to step to the front.
Vivian recognized him at a glance: France's former naval chief, Mr. de Gaulle.
Mr. de Gaulle removed his hat and offered Saitama the utmost respect. "We've been adrift at sea for three to five years, always hoping someone would stop the Decepticons from continuing to seize our cities. But the years dragged on, and no one came. Many among us began to believe this world would ultimately fall into Decepticon hands—into the hands of that one called Megatron."
"But I believed the world would return to what it was. That someone would stand up and lead us to victory over those mechanical invaders. Today… I have finally seen that day."
After his short address, color returned to the elder's pale face.
"Yet we also understand that your time is precious, Mr. Saitama. Across the ocean, still more human cities need you."
"If there is anything you need from us," Mr. de Gaulle said, voice trembling with excitement, "say the word. If it can be done, we will do our utmost."
Ding.
While Saitama listened, a chime echoed within his system—his renown had surged again.
This de Gaulle was one of Earth's seven leaders in exile; his formal recognition had raised Saitama's standing once more.
Saitama exchanged a few words with the elder, then stated his purpose: he was heading to Britain to find Merlin's Staff—he had to secure it to foil Megatron.
In a shadowed corner of the liner, a flattened disk stirred. Two filament "feelers" unfurled, and a metallic eyeball peered at the people on deck.
"Reporting, my lord: Saitama intends to go to Britain," the Decepticon scout transmitted.
Silence pooled across the intranet.
"Reporting, my lord: Saitama intends to go to Britain in search of Merlin's Staff!"
"Shut up! Did you come from Mars?" Megatron snarled.
"Negative, my lord. I came from Cyber—"
Skree—crackle—
The signal cut and echoed away.
Megatron swept his gaze over the assembly. "A pack of incompetents. And you can't even handle a single little human. Hmph."
He rose from the throne of his steel sanctum and strode out. The others scrambled after him, barely daring to breathe.
"Saitama… you've freed city after city and now you hunt Merlin's Staff. I know," Megatron growled. "What you don't know is that my knowledge of the Staff surpasses yours. I have long known the general place it lies—somewhere in Britain. This time, I'll let you lead me to it."
Each step he took stamped a deep print into the ground. His optics fixed on the distant coastline, but his mind drifted back to Cybertron's ancient glory.
Millions of years ago…
Unicron and the Creator-Mother, Quintessa, clashed.
In fury, Unicron carried Merlin's Staff into the depths of space!
With Unicron's departure, Cybertron fractured.
"Optimus Prime, one day you'll understand: I am right. Everything I do is for Cybertron."
What Megatron did not grasp was how many worlds he had slaughtered in pursuit of that end.
Earth was not the first. It would not be the last.
In Megatron's mind, it was Prime—those like him—who were the aberration.
Conquest and carnage: that was the spirit of Cybertronians.
But was that truly the Autobots' creed?
Saitama and Vivian took a small motor launch from the refugee ship and sped toward Britain's coast.
They had barely made land when they found a strangely dressed, butler-like robot waiting by the shore.
"I have been expecting the two of you," the butler robot said.
Saitama nodded. "Mm."
Vivian's expression stayed calm as well.
The butler tilted his head. "Oh? You're not going to ask who I am? Whether I serve Megatron?"
Saitama replied that he wasn't alarmed because the robot bore no Decepticon insignia.
Inwardly, he sighed. Whether in the original TF5 or this altered world, this butler bot's personality was still the same—pure comic relief.
Their composure left the butler twice embarrassed.
"Well then," he muttered, "I suppose the duel I meticulously prepared won't be necessary."
He ushered them into a car and wound along Britain's stony lanes. Nearing Sir Edmund's castle, curiosity finally got the better of him.
"Miss Vivian, are you calm because, like Saitama, you noticed I lack a Decepticon emblem?"
Vivian glanced sidelong at Saitama. "No. I'm calm because I trust Saitama."
Seeing the ripple in her eyes, the butler felt an unexpected pang of envy.
"So only humans can feel this thing called love," he thought.
Led by the butler, Saitama and Vivian at last met Sir Edmund.
Sir Edmund sat comfortably in his chamber, composed and waiting. "At last, young lovers, you're here. Ask what you wish to ask."
Vivian's cheeks flushed. She meant to protest, then realized there was no fooling an old fox like Sir Edmund.
"I want the precise whereabouts of Merlin's Staff," Saitama said. "You know where it is."
"Straight to the point—youth indeed," Sir Edmund chuckled. "But are you not curious about all this around you?"
"Curious? Of course," Saitama said. "From the moment I entered this room, I could tell these are treasures beyond price—relics passed down from Merlin's time."
"And how did you know that?" Sir Edmund asked, intrigued.
Saitama tapped the low table before him.
It was the Round Table of the age of King Arthur. With that lying between them, even a wily old hound like Sir Edmund couldn't deflect with small talk any longer.
(End of Chapter)
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