Time felt frozen as everyone stared at the two men—Saitama and Logan—locked together at arm's length.
They all knew Logan's power. At this distance, his claws could pierce steel. Against a mutant, that would mean crippling injury—maybe worse.
Instead, Saitama only frowned. "Hey, Logan, what's with the tears? Are you that happy to see me? I guess to you I just disappeared back then. Sorry about that."
Mouths fell open.
He'd taken Logan's twin strikes point-blank, was chatting like nothing happened—and Logan's face, twisted with rage, suddenly warped with agony. He dropped to his knees, a strangled cry tearing out of him.
Everyone saw it: the claws jutting from Logan's fists were bent. Not scratched—not chipped—bent, like someone had forced a metal rod the wrong way.
How much force did that take…?
No—the force wasn't the point.
They finally understood. Logan had charged, claws first, ramming Saitama with everything he had. The impact was like an egg slamming into a wall. The claws hadn't pierced Saitama; they'd yielded.
What kind of monster was this man?
Saitama scratched his cheek. "Logan, you okay?"
Logan roared and tried to lunge again. Magneto threw his hands up, and Logan froze mid-pounce as if the air had hardened around him.
"Logan, calm down!" Magneto barked.
Logan's throat worked with feral snarls. He wanted to tear Saitama apart, but he couldn't move—too much metal in his body, and Magneto countered him by nature alone.
Watching Logan strain and thrash, Saitama knit his brows. "Wait… Logan, do you not recognize me?"
People traded looks.
This mountain of muscle who'd just treated a berserk Wolverine like an overeager puppy… was he actually a natural airhead?
The word fit a little too well.
Saitama clearly preferred not to think about messy details.
Magneto stepped closer, voice tight. "Two years ago, Charles invaded his mind. Wiped his memories and magnified his bestial instincts, then set him against the Brotherhood."
"What?" Saitama's easy tone vanished; his face hardened. "You're saying Logan's memories were erased?"
"Yes. If my power didn't restrain him, most of us wouldn't be standing." Magneto sighed.
Saitama drew a slow breath. "That Charles… I mean, Professor X—what kind of person is he?"
Magneto looked away for a moment, then spoke. "Charles is… was my dearest friend. I once believed mutants should rule humanity to secure our rights."
"Uh… that doesn't sound very healthy," Saitama said. "Wouldn't that make you a lot of enemies?"
"Enemies?" Magneto gave a thin smile. "I didn't think that far. I followed conviction. If it ensured mutant survival, I saw no problem with killing all of humanity."
Saitama was silent. "You… sound like a villain."
"I am," Magneto answered plainly. "But because of Charles, I became a rallying point for mutants. He once dreamed of gathering our kind, negotiating peace, and building a shared future with humans. Then came a certain operation. We united against a Nazi plot—and when we stopped it, the United States and the Soviet Union chose to kill us for it."
Anger crept into his voice.
Saitama nodded for once, almost sympathetic. "Ah… yeah. Getting hated by the people you save feels bad."
He didn't do hero work for gratitude, but being despised afterward still stung.
Magneto continued. "Charles and I stopped the strikes together. In that moment, an assassin fired from behind. I turned the bullet aside. Charles could not. His lover threw herself in front of him and died. After that, he changed. Not to the point of exterminating humanity—but he grew… fixed. He decided that mutants who were too strong were the true danger."
"So that alone wouldn't make him your enemy, right?" Saitama asked.
"It was what he witnessed later," Magneto said grimly. "During an internal conflict among mutants, he saw a man whose power felt… limitless. From then on, he believed omega-level mutants threatened human existence. He resolved to erase every such mutant."
Magneto's hands tightened at his sides.
"At first he tried the old way—teaching, persuading, coordination. But the more he struggled, the more he realized that no plan he had could rival the man he had glimpsed. So he chose… extraordinary measures to gather power."
Saitama's expression firmed. "Extraordinary measures?"
The room held its breath.
(End of Chapter)
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