Chapter 99 – Only This Will Do
Watching King walk away, the A-Class and B-Class heroes looked at one another in bewilderment.
"As expected of Mr. King—every word he speaks is so philosophical."
"We can't let Mr. King down. Let's start the search right away; there should still be some surviving aliens aboard the ship."
"Right. Mr. King has already lectured us so earnestly—if we start another pointless argument, we'll only disappoint him!"
With a few quick words, the heroes rallied and surged into the spaceship, hunting for any alien soldiers who might still be alive.
Sweet Mask, meanwhile, stood as if struck by lightning, eyes vacant.
He stared blankly at King's receding figure, that calm sentence echoing endlessly in his mind.
Am I really wrong…? Has the justice I pursue already turned into obsession? Sweet Mask sank into self-doubt; he had always believed it his duty to kill every Monster, convinced all Monsters were evil and deserved death.
Yet he had gradually forgotten that he himself was a Monster—proof enough that his former view was mistaken.
At the thought, Sweet Mask felt nauseated; he remembered his Monster form and the creed he had upheld for so many years.
Slowly he raised a hand, the razor-sharp edge aiming at his own neck, his eyes growing wilder.
If I'm to prove my belief correct… only this remains. His breathing quickened; the blade gathered force, inching closer until droplets of blood seeped from his skin.
He had always been fanatical—or perhaps every Monster carried a share of obsession and distortion.
The strongest man on earth had effortlessly rejected the "justice" he had defended for years, and the reason given was irrefutable.
But Sweet Mask refused to accept it.
He wanted to prove his justice right: every Monster had to die; every Monster was evil; every Monster deserved damnation.
Since I'm a Monster too, then I should also die!
Just as he prepared to slash, an aged hand seized his arm and a weary sigh sounded beside his ear:
"Good grief, youngsters these days—so rash. A tiny setback and you're ready to die. Be content like this old man."
Startled, Sweet Mask looked over; surprise flashed in his eyes.
"Silver Fang? Why are you here?"
Bang studied Sweet Mask, whose gaze still held obsession, and frowned.
This fellow seems to be possessed by a Inner Demon.
A Inner Demon is simply a hurdle the heart can't clear.
Resting nearby, Bang had heard every word King said.
He understood that King's lesson clashed violently with Sweet Mask's beliefs, yet Sweet Mask had to admit King was right—causing a fatal error in his code.
Before Bang could speak, Saitama, who had been staring at the sky, finally lost patience and strolled over.
Hearing footsteps, Sweet Mask turned and, spotting a bald head gleaming in the sun, asked in puzzlement:
"One-Punch Man? When did you arrive? What do you want?"
Saitama's mouth was still full of the Hero Association's battle-snack consolation; he swallowed twice before answering unhurriedly:
"I just saw you trying to kill yourself. Why? Don't you want to live?"
The Bald Demon King's simple question became the blade that pierced Sweet Mask's heart.
His face twisted; he clutched his blue hair, eyes bloodshot:
"What choice do I have? I want to wipe out every Monster, yet even King says I'm wrong, and I can't refute him.
If so, my reason to exist is denied! Only by ending my life can I prove I'm right—only then can I uphold my creed!"
Facing Sweet Mask's roar, Saitama merely crunched another chip, patted his shoulder, and mumbled:
"Then just prove your worth instead. Show that even without that creed you still matter to this world—why die to prove a point?"
The words cut Sweet Mask off mid-cry; he could say nothing more.
Saitama patted him again, wiped a bit of chip seasoning onto his costume, and walked away with a smile:
"I'm no shrink; you'll have to sort it out yourself. See ya."
Bang had wanted to add something, but decided Saitama had said enough; he too patted Sweet Mask's other shoulder and left.
Sweet Mask stood frozen, his worldview shaken.
Prove my worth…? Even if I stop slaughtering Monsters… can I still prove I'm a hero?
He remained motionless, speechless, the sea inside him surging.
More than ten minutes passed; Sweet Mask was still on standby, the clash of ideals churning his thoughts.
Other heroes saw this and clicked their tongues in irritation.
"Is this guy going to work or not?"
"Yeah, standing there like some brooding statue—who's he trying to impress?"
"Forget him. If he gets mad and punches us, we're done—he's A-Class Rank 1, we can't win."
"Hmph, let him try starting something while we're on search duty! Unless he's a Monster, he won't break discipline—A-Class first place or not!"