"Sensei, please allow me to clear the perimeter first!" Before Genos even finished speaking, he turned into a streak of golden lightning and shot into the battlefield. The incineration cannons on his arms roared, precisely striking a robot's leg joints and knocking it off balance. The machine toppled, and a follow-up heavy punch smashed straight through its chest energy core.
He dismantled another one just as quickly, sparks flying everywhere, and analyzed at high speed. "Sensei, their core programming has been tampered with. It's a very high-level chaos directive forcing them to attack all non-robot targets!"
Saitama stood at the edge of the battlefield, squinting at the blinding lasers constantly being fired. Multicolored beams flew everywhere. They couldn't hit him, but they were definitely flashing in his eyes.
"Seriously… all these lights blinking around. It's annoying."
He complained, then bent his knees slightly and suddenly kicked off.
Boom!
A shallow crater appeared where he'd been standing, and his body shot forward like a cannonball, crashing directly into the densest cluster of robots.
What followed was less a battle and more a one-sided, highly efficient demolition job.
Saitama didn't even use anything resembling a proper technique. It was just the simplest punches, kicks, and knife-hand chops. His movements were so fast they blurred into afterimages. Every time he struck, it came with the shrieking noise of metal being forcibly torn, twisted, and pulverized by overwhelming brute force.
One robot raised an arm to aim—one punch later, its entire upper body, along with the laser cannon, vanished. Only its two mechanical legs remained standing in place.
Another tried to grab him from behind, but an offhand backward kick folded it in half at the waist, its parts bursting apart like scattered flower petals.
One after another, these war machines before Saitama were as fragile as toys built from children's blocks. Metal arms, heads, treads, barrels… every kind of part flew outward like a storm of debris, clattering to the ground in a nonstop rain of steel.
In under thirty seconds, the robot legion that had been roaring and rampaging a moment ago had been reduced to scrap metal scattered across the ground, still spitting electric sparks. The only ones still standing in the center were Saitama and Genos, who had just finished cleaning up a few outer units and rushed over.
The laser fire stopped. All that remained was the crackling of flames and the distant wail of fire truck sirens. The surviving S.H.I.E.L.D. agents peeked out from behind cover, staring in disbelief at this metallic graveyard.
Saitama came to a stop and patted at the dust that didn't even exist on his clothes. He looked down, kicked aside a warped armor plate, and picked up a fingernail-sized chip that was still faintly glowing red. Pinching it between his fingers, he brought it close to his eyes, a hint of curiosity appearing on his face. Then he turned to Genos, who was walking over, and asked:
"Genos, is this little thing what made them go crazy?"
Genos took the chip, data streaming rapidly through his pupils as he analyzed it. "Yes, Sensei. This is a virus chip that forcibly overwrites the original directives. It needs to be brought back for further analysis of its source."
"Oh." Saitama nodded as if he half understood, then remembered something and rubbed his stomach. "So it's solved, right? Then I'm going back to make cup noodles. The water probably hasn't cooled down yet."
Genos looked at his teacher's utterly unconcerned back, then at the tiny chip in his hand that could've caused a massive crisis, and once again felt the enormous difference in what they each considered important.
(End of Chapter)
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