"This feeling... it's incredible."
Kaito flexed the mech's fingers, the metal joints releasing a crisp clack-clack with every movement.
It was seamless—every action responded like it was his own arm, without a trace of delay.
"I knew you'd like it!" Child Emperor clapped his hands excitedly. "This mech is equipped with the latest miniature missile array, plasma cutting blades, and a specially designed Emperor Engine simulation system, modeled entirely on your combat data!"
Kaito moved the mech through a series of combat maneuvers. The precision was flawless; the flow of motion almost felt too natural.
Then something caught his eye.
On the mech's back—
"That is...?"
"Ah! I almost forgot to show you the coolest feature!" Child Emperor hurried over and pressed a hidden switch.
Clang—!
From the mech's back unfolded a pair of jet-black metal wings, each feather like a razor, gleaming coldly under the lab lights.
"A flight system!" Child Emperor announced proudly. "It combines anti-gravity tech with plasma thrusters, reaching speeds up to Mach 3! The wings are forged from a rare meteoric alloy that absorbs kinetic energy from enemy attacks and converts it into rebound force!"
He grinned wide. "I call them—Wings of the Fallen!"
Kaito gave a low whistle. The design reminded him of Falcon's vibranium wings from Marvel, but these weren't just stylish—they were terrifyingly practical. Sleek, deadly, and undeniably cool. They fit him perfectly.
"Excellent work," Kaito said sincerely. "You really are a genius."
Child Emperor's small face lit up instantly, more radiant than if he had received any medal or award.
Recognition from his idol—that was the highest honor of all.
"Oh, right," Kaito asked suddenly, "does Saitama's mech have any special features?"
Child Emperor's expression froze, just a little. "...Well... Saitama's mech is kind of... special."
He walked over to the bulky yellow mech and pressed a button on its chest.
Click!
A drawer slid open from its abdomen—revealing neatly arranged food ingredients inside.
"...Is that a refrigerator?" Kaito blinked.
"A multi-functional fresh-keeping storage compartment," Child Emperor corrected seriously. "Since Mr. Saitama often complains about food spoiling before he can use it, I installed a liquid-nitrogen freezing system that can preserve ingredients instantly."
Kaito: "..."
"And this!" Child Emperor hit another switch. The mech's arm whirred and shifted—transforming into a frying pan and spatula.
"A portable cooking system! He can whip up meals anywhere, even on the battlefield!"
Kaito rubbed his temples. "...Are you sure this is a combat mech and not... a mobile kitchen?"
"Uh..." Child Emperor scratched his head, embarrassed. "The combat system is powerful too! It's just... maybe I got carried away while designing it..."
Kaito chuckled. Given Saitama's ridiculous strength, whether the mech had combat functions or not was irrelevant. Honestly, these absurd add-ons might suit him even better.
Then, inspiration struck.
"Hey" Kaito said slowly, "can you give this mech... a mimicry system? One that perfectly simulates my appearance?"
"Eh—?!" Child Emperor's eyes widened. "You want it to look like you? Technically, it's not difficult—holographic projection combined with adaptive coatings, plus adjustments to mimic heat signatures and bio-magnetic fields... but... why?"
"The point," Kaito smirked, "is despair."
He leaned forward, his voice smooth, dangerous.
"Picture it. A monster fights desperately, throws everything they've got, and finally—finally—destroys what they believe is me. They celebrate. They think they've killed King, the Strongest Man on Earth."
Kaito paused, letting the tension build.
"And then... from the wreckage, or from the shadows, the real me steps out—untouched. Whole. Even stronger."
His grin widened. "That crushing moment—when hope turns instantly into despair—don't you think their minds will just explode?"
"Hiss—!"
Child Emperor's face turned bright red. Countless flashy, chuunibyou-style scenarios stormed through his imagination.
"This... this is amazing!!!"
He practically leapt into the air, flailing his arms in excitement. "Mr. King, you're not just a genius—you're a demon lord! An artist of despair! This tactic—this design—it's the ultimate psychological weapon! The 'Despair's Arrival' strategy!"
Kaito watched the boy whirl around in frenzy, amused. Young prodigies were useful; all you had to do was hand them the blueprint, and they'd work like nuclear-powered donkeys.
"Then I'll leave it to you," Kaito said, patting his shoulder before heading out of the lab.
But just as he reached the door, the communicator in his pocket buzzed.
He pulled out the sleek black device and glanced at the urgent message flashing on its screen.
"Mr. King, something terrible has happened! Shibabawa truly delivered the prophecy this morning—the Earth is in danger!"
After the Deep Sea King disaster, Kaito knew what was coming next.
Having read the script of fate—the original work—he was certain the next crisis would be nothing less than the arrival of the cosmic conqueror, Boros.
So, he went straight to Hero Association headquarters and urged Agoni to begin evacuating A-City residents immediately.
But at that time, apart from Agoni, Sitch, and a handful of high-ranking officials, most of the executives scoffed at his warning.
The space agency had been probing the cosmos for decades without detecting a single trace of alien life. How could a fleet of extraterrestrials suddenly descend upon Earth?
"Absurd."
"Fearmongering."
"Abusing your S-class status to cause unnecessary panic."
Their dismissals piled up, dripping with arrogance.
Kaito didn't argue.
He didn't try to convince them with words.
Instead—he simply stood in the center of the conference hall, calm and immovable.
And then—
BOOM—!!!
The Emperor Engine roared to life.
The sound alone shook the entire room.
Every wall quivered. Coffee mugs toppled from desks. Papers scattered like frightened birds.
The executives who had been sneering moments before suddenly froze, their laughter caught in their throats.
A cold sweat broke out on their foreheads as their bodies locked up under the sheer oppressive weight of that presence.
None of them could meet his gaze.
Kaito didn't need to speak.
The message was carved directly into their instincts:
—If he was treating this threat seriously, then it was no laughing matter.
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