"Please—save my sister!"
The White Queen's younger sister sobbed, but no one moved. Even Charles let out a weary sigh.
Through his psionic scan, Kayla's flickering life had already gone out. Even with the most advanced treatment he knew, there was nothing to salvage.
Saitama's face tightened with regret. He couldn't protect everyone—he'd been tied up dealing with the prototype Deadpool.
"I'm truly sorry. I was a step too late," Charles said softly. Kayla's death blindsided them all, and even Saitama couldn't change it now.
"Everyone… come with me," Charles continued after a moment. "I've built a school—a place for mutants."
"A mutant school?"
"In this world? Humans hate us."
"Is this a trick?"
In the real world, mutants were shunned. A sanctuary sounded like a fairytale.
"I've no reason to deceive you. I'm a mutant as well," Charles said. His calm voice and open mind slowly won them over. One by one, the rescued mutants boarded the helicopter.
"Will you come too, Mr. Saitama?" Charles asked. The man's power dwarfed his expectations—easily the highest tier he'd sensed on Earth, verging on Level Four. And yet something deeper coiled in Saitama, a pressure that told Charles this young man could crush him without trying.
Before Saitama could answer, a chime rang in his ear.
[Ding! Esteemed Saitama-dono, "X-Men First Tour" complete. Returning to the One Punch Man world. Please prepare for transit.]
"Ah—sorry. Looks like I need to head back first. We'll meet again if fate allows," Saitama grinned as his outline blurred and vanished, leaving Charles and the mutants staring at the empty air.
"You're finally back, Saitama!"
Saitama reappeared in his apartment. Child Emperor was there, anxious, like he'd been pacing for hours.
"Something happen?" Saitama asked.
"The Hero Association shareholder's son was kidnapped by the Monster Association. Yesterday, they even infiltrated our HQ—killed several executives—and issued an ultimatum. In three days, they'll start an all-out war," Child Emperor said, voice tight.
Two days ago, a parasitic monster hijacked an executive and gunned down more than ten leaders during talks. It tried to take over heroes too—unlucky for it, it ran into Superalloy Darkshine and got pulped without scratching his defense.
The incident rocked the Association. Nationwide, the alert level jumped to One.
"Monster Association, huh…" Saitama rubbed his head. He remembered the anonymous letter sliding under his door—the invite to join the monsters. So they'd finally made their move.
"And just now, Silver Fang Bang and Whirlwind Iron-Cutting Fist Bomb were attacked. Both are badly injured. Our available top-tier forces are… thin," Child Emperor added.
"Bang, too?" Saitama blinked. Bang was one of the Association's strongest.
"Got it. What's the plan?"
"Headquarters meeting. Fubuki and Tatsumaki already left. You should get going, too," Child Emperor urged.
At the same time—
Garou woke in darkness.
A small, sealed cell. Bare iron cot. Fresh bandages tight across wounds that throbbed like torn wire. Not a dream—his body's agony made that clear.
Someone had pulled him from Bang and Bomb's beatdown.
A folded note lay on the table. Garou picked it up.
"Welcome to the Monster Association. If you're reading this…"
A recruitment letter. They said the world now branded him a master-betraying villain, that the Association would hunt him, that only the monsters would accept him—if he joined them.
Garou snorted and crushed the paper into a ball. His muscles screamed as he moved. The last fight had been brutal—especially when he shielded a snot-nosed kid and took a storm of bullets from several A-Class heroes. Surviving at all was a miracle.
He pushed to his feet and followed a narrow corridor toward a dim light.
Cobwebbed walls, old and damp. Air thick with rot and iron. His stomach lurched at the stink.
Voices. A chorus of sobbing pleas.
"Please! Let us go!"
"We were wrong! We won't resist!"
"Don't eat us!"
"Don't kill us—I'll pay everything!"
Garou eased to the corner and peeked into a wide chamber.
A crowd of mercenaries knelt, trembling. Around them, weird and twisted monsters grinned and jeered.
"Mercenaries, huh… from outside," Garou thought, noting their high-end gear. A competent unit—wiped out all the same.
And looming before the pack of monsters was a thing you couldn't miss:
A rotund body crowned by a single huge eye, surrounded by writhing tendrils.
Gyoro Gyoro.
The true leader of the Monster Association—its exact disaster level unknown, but no one dared doubt it. The doubters were dead.
"Kill them!"
"No—eat them! Fresh surface meat! I haven't had any in ages!"
"Make them toys! Keh-heh-heh!"
The mercenaries went gray with terror. Their glares fixed on the metal giant standing to one side.
Encased head-to-toe in armor, twin blades at its hips. Nearly three meters tall, face a blank energy visor. Not human.
That was the one who crushed their escape and delivered them here.
"I found them on the way in," the machine said, voice cold. "Figured I'd bring them if they were of use."
"No doubt—you're qualified, rookie. Your name?" Gyoro Gyoro's great eyelid narrowed.
"I am G5," the machine replied. "Dispatched by the Organization to assist the Monster Association."
(End of Chapter)
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