"Alright—guess even the sharpest mind slips sometimes."
Saitama scratched his head after grabbing Merlin's Staff, then headed out of the burial chamber with it in hand.
But the movement of the Staff stirred the four Transformers who had slumbered there for ages.
They sprang to life in an instant.
Saitama's face tightened. He fired a danger signal upward: Get out!
" Saitama, we can't leave you!" Vivian shouted.
He answered with just five words—enough to make tears tremble in her lashes as she turned to go.
"Please. Believe in me."
Sir Edmund and the robot valet exchanged a look as Vivian obeyed.
"This fellow Saitama… he really knows how to talk to women," Sir Edmund mused. "Almost like I did in my youth."
The robot tilted his head. "But, my lord, you never found a suitable partner. How would you know how to—"
"…"
Cut to the burial depths—
Saitama slipped past a first strike and planted himself at the center of the hall, facing the four.
"I'm taking Merlin's Staff for something critical," he said. "Do me a favor and let this slide."
The one with the greatsword rumbled, "Human, we guard this place by Unicron's edict. If you want leniency, put the Staff back. For the sake of your good manners, I might spare your life."
"So you really won't back down?"
The four closed in, hemming him in on all sides. "No—unless you put it down."
Saitama knew further talk was pointless. Different species, different instincts—this was going nowhere.
All that was left was to knock down these all-metal, zero-empathy sentries.
He found himself valuing Autobots like Optimus Prime more and more.
Boom!
A clean, simple punch—one guardian skidded back ten paces and smashed into a pillar.
Up above—
Sir Edmund, the valet, and Vivian had just boarded the submarine when the water around them shuddered with a deep tremor.
Vivian blanched. "Don't tell me—"
She didn't finish. Sir Edmund chopped her neatly, then handed her to the valet.
"Saitama told us to go. We're not turning back. Cast off!"
"But, my lord—"
"No 'but' now! We pray Saitama gets clear—quickly!"
Truly, prayer was all he could do. With no heirs and zero experience handling distraught young women, he dreaded what would happen if Saitama didn't return and Vivian woke up at the worst possible moment.
"Saitama, you've beaten so many Decepticons. This won't stop you either," Sir Edmund thought.
And indeed, Saitama wasn't beaten; he was just figuring out how to keep these four from interfering with what came next.
Once he had room to fight, the tide turned fast.
Moments later, all four guardians lay floored.
New problem: how to keep them down.
He glanced up at the entrance and yanked free the hundred-meter cables dangling there.
"I'm tying you up so you can take a moment and reflect," he said as he bound them. "Because you have no idea what you're actually doing."
"Die, you vile human!" one snarled.
Saitama opened his mouth to reply—then heard the heavy cadence of fresh metal feet above.
A stream of Decepticons poured in.
The great hall filled wall to wall.
Megatron stepped forth. "Saitama. At last."
Saitama cut him a cool glance.
"I know what you want," Megatron said. "You want to save the humans. But think from another angle—are they worth saving?"
He flicked his optics toward the four guardians. Corruption crawled over their frames, and in a breath they'd shifted to his side.
The Decepticon ranks swelled.
"Human bodies are fragile," Megatron went on. "Step beyond Earth's shelter and they die to the cold void. Such a species is destined for elimination."
"What's your point?" Saitama asked.
"My point is—join us. Abandon this fantasy of saving them. Stand with us and welcome our Mother of All, Quintessa."
Saitama took one half step back.
Megatron sweetened the offer. "No? I can offer riches—and even many beauties of our mechanical kind."
Internally, Saitama sighed. Mechanical "beauties"? Just… lumps of iron. What would he even do with those?
Megatron's own processors buzzed with irritation. Starscream had sworn this pitch—cribbed from human books—was irresistible. Somehow it was utterly useless on this bald man.
They stared each other down for half a heartbeat. Saitama finally understood—Megatron was trying to recruit him.
Saitama decided to toy with him. "Recruit me? Sure. Hand over the AllSpark."
Megatron recoiled like a rat at a tripwire. "Denied."
"Thought so. Keep your metal pin-ups to yourself."
"Then we have nothing more to discuss," Megatron snarled. "Since fate sets us as enemies, I will erase you."
Whooosh—
A mass of Decepticons surged at Saitama.
Chaos exploded.
He couldn't remember the last time anyone tried to mob him like this.
And he couldn't remember the last time he'd cut loose.
In human cities, crowds kept him cautious; he'd been holding back—fighting with Normal Punches only. The Decepticons had measured him by those "simple punches."
Down here… it was different.
At the bottom of the sea, Saitama could finally throw a Serious Punch.
"There's nothing a single punch can't fix. If one can't… throw another."
A thunderous rhythm shook the deep. Sharks prowling nearby felt the pressure wave and fled in panic. A few bold little fish rode the current and glimpsed the sight below:
Saitama, standing atop a pile of crumpled Decepticons, laying into the rest with savage efficiency.
Swish—
One bot with the Decepticon emblem tried to bolt. Saitama snagged its ankle, swung it around the hall twice, and flung it into the crowd.
"Mm. Too terrifying. Truly too terrifying."
(End of Chapter)
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