Magneto turned his head toward Saitama. "Baldy, you have no idea who you're making an enemy of. You'll learn the meaning of regret!"
"Oh? Then tell him to come find me," Saitama said, already fed up. He sat down, swaggering, utterly fearless.
Professor X was stunned. "Saitama, what do you intend to do? Are you really going to wait for them to come?"
"What else?" Saitama asked. "Feels like the world just flipped over. Paris—this is a pretty big city in your world, right?"
"Y-yes." Professor X nodded. Paris was one of Europe's central cities—and it had been erased in an instant.
Needless to say, the whole world already knew who had done it. A mutant. No one would care which side that mutant was on; to them, this was something mutants had done.
From this moment, every mutant would be a thorn in the side of the military brass.
Thinking about it, it was… inevitable.
One person, with a destructive output equivalent to a nuclear weapon in an instant. If she wished, she wouldn't just level Paris; she might flatten France—Europe—with hardly any effort.
That was the truly terrifying part, and enough to draw the attention of every nation on Earth.
Mutants had been shoved to the very peak of the storm: submit to Apocalypse—or subdue both Apocalypse and humanity.
A deadlock.
Saitama sniffed. "You just need humans to accept mutants. In other words, making humanity believe it can't possibly fight mutants—that's one method, isn't it?"
A tiny change crossed Professor X's face. "Saitama, what are you planning?"
"I don't have a choice," Saitama said solemnly. "Even with the time-flow difference, I'm in a hurry."
"In a hurry?"
"Yeah. Something really important is waiting for me. If this drags on, I'll be miserable."
Professor X held his breath. "What do you mean?"
"Friday's supermarket blowout sale."
"…What?" Professor X thought he'd misheard.
"And Saturday's half-price egg promotion. Only one carton per person, but that'll last me a week." Saitama's face was utterly sincere, which left Professor X completely baffled.
What is he even talking about?
Saitama exhaled. "That's why I need to get serious. If I can't get half-price eggs on Saturday, do you know what that means?"
His expression grew so grave that it shook Professor X. He hesitantly nodded. Saitama had said he was from another world—maybe eggs that were cheap here carried some special meaning there? A homophone? A cultural symbol?
Professor X's voice trembled. "Will… something terrible happen?"
"Obviously! I won't get to eat Genos's egg fried rice for a whole week!!!"
"Ha?" Professor X was dumbfounded.
Beast was equally stunned. Even in a sluggish economy, at least eggs were affordable. Why did they sound so precious coming from Saitama?
"In short, I have to wrap things up here fast. I've got a lot waiting for me back home."
On the other side, the defeated Four Horsemen—or rather, the remaining three—touched down before a ruined, ancient castle. Psylocke let out a bitter smile as she stared at the weathered stones. They had completed the mission—they had destroyed Paris—but in a shameful way.
Their losses were heavy. Angel had fallen somewhere unknown. Storm had been savaged by a single punch from Saitama. Psylocke was the least hurt, but that was nothing to brag about. They had lost, utterly. Magneto knew that even if he went all out—no, even if all three Horsemen attacked together—they still wouldn't be Saitama's match.
The man's power was beyond anything they'd imagined.
Psylocke sighed and pushed open the inner keep's doors. In the grand hall, a figure sat upon a throne. His skin was an unnatural blue-green, its waxen texture sending a chill down the spine. He wore armor from an age no one could name—like a monster from another world.
"Great Master," Psylocke said, placing Storm gently on the stones before dropping to one knee.
"So, you completed the task?" Apocalypse didn't even lift his head.
"Yes. But Storm is gravely wounded, and Angel's status is unknown. We encountered a terrifying enemy guarding Professor X. We were not his match," Psylocke answered, head bowed, voice trembling.
Magneto, half-kneeling, added, "Great Master, grant us greater power. As we are now, we cannot defeat him."
"Is that so?" Apocalypse glanced over them, a smile touching his lips. "It doesn't matter. Even if you cannot defeat the enemy, it does not matter."
At that voice, cold sweat broke down Magneto's back. He knew what kind of monster sat before them—someone without the slightest genuine feeling. The so-called Four Horsemen were tools he'd picked up at random.
He could amplify their power at will—and just as easily take it back.
(End of Chapter)
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