At the center of the Decepticon mob, Megatron watched the carnage and seethed.
"So much for empowering them with the AllSpark—what a pack of useless scrap!"
He swept his arm; the rabble clattered aside like bowling pins.
Then he stood alone before Saitama.
"You're powerful—beyond my comprehension," Megatron said. "But I still have a trump card."
He twisted a control at his chest.
A fierce violet radiance bloomed there. Inside a small ampoule, Saitama glimpsed a palm-sized cube—the AllSpark—its ends venting that ominous purple glow.
So, during the time Saitama had been liberating cities, Megatron had figured out how to tap the AllSpark's power.
Violet light flared in Megatron's optics. "One last chance, Saitama. Will you submit?"
Saitama shook his head.
Boom.
Megatron lunged the instant Saitama refused. With the AllSpark's boost he was far stronger than any bot Saitama had floored so far—and he'd reverted to his original war form.
His forearms reconfigured, overbuilt into brutal iron anvils.
Clang!
They traded a straight punch; Saitama felt Megatron edge him by a hair.
Megatron's left arm split and locked into a shoulder cannon. A lance of energy roared past as Saitama slipped aside—the blast disintegrated the stone coffin in the burial hall to drifting ash.
In the old tale, the mage Merlin had served Arthur by Unicron's errand and left a legend—only to vanish as Unicron's enemy erased him. Begun by machines, ended by machines.
Saitama exhaled once. If not for this quest, the ancient mage would still be lying undisturbed.
No time for sentiment.
Megatron surged again, the violet current in his frame howling.
A webwork of purple lightning crackled through the whole necropolis; even the curious fish flitting outside were shocked senseless.
Megatron tightened his fist and strode forward, each step making the floor heave. At the chamber's heart he stamped—and the charge spidered through the fallen Decepticons, jolting them back to their feet.
"Cornered now, Saitama?" Megatron taunted.
Saitama shook his head. "No. I still haven't tried my finishers. Been meaning to test them on you."
He moved—and this time he got serious.
Serious Side Step. Serious Headbutt. Serious Table Flip—each motion flowed around a single core: a Serious Punch.
The seabed thundered.
The shock seemed to spear the sky and split the ocean. Colossi slumbering in the depths shuddered awake; dinner-plate eyes rolled upward; mountain-sized heads thought as one: Is this the end of the world?
Molten glare leaked from torn vents in the crust. The beasts decided it was.
Run.
They fled their territories for higher waters.
In the burial ground, Saitama's serious combo shattered buttresses; torrents crashed through ruptured tunnels. Seawater flooded in, swallowing bots and stone alike.
Saitama rode the pressure surge and drove a straight right into Megatron's chest.
Boom—Megatron staggered a step.
Boom—two steps.
Boom—three.
"One more."
The last punch crumpled the armored plate guarding Megatron's core. Saitama's hand flashed in, plucked the ghostly violet AllSpark free, and closed his fist around it.
"You've lost, Megatron."
He planted one foot on Megatron's helm, launched like an arrow, and tore for the surface.
—
Far above, Sir Edmund and the robot valet raced seaward in the sub, panic mounting at the barrage rumbling up from below.
"My word—an earthquake on the Atlantic floor? A volcano?" Sir Edmund gasped.
The valet's lenses narrowed. "My calculations suggest energy impacts, not a geological event."
Sir Edmund paled. "Then it's Saitama and Megatron…"
Cold sweat beaded his brow. What power… could do this?
He'd seen piles of corpses and shattered lines six decades ago when the Allies broke the Axis—and he hadn't been this shaken. He'd seen a mushroom cloud boil over an eastern island nation and still hadn't felt this awe.
But now, he was terrified.
"What kind of man is Saitama?"
He had thought he understood. He no longer did. The cream jacket, the jaunty red cape—beneath that simplicity was something unfathomable.
Then the worst complication hit.
Vivian woke.
"Who attacked me? And Saitama—where is he? Is he alright?"
Sir Edmund slid a look at the valet.
The robot sighed. "Miss Vivian, I stunned you. Saitama was fighting through the hazards below—I feared you'd rush back and make trouble for him."
Sir Edmund gave the valet a thumbs-up.
Vivian's gaze stayed hard. "I understand why you did it. But answer me—where is Saitama now? Is he safe?"
(End of Chapter)
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