"Genos!"
S-Class Rank 11, Superalloy Blackluster, shouted in alarm. Genos, who had been about to leave the stage, grunted as the armor on his back cracked. In the next instant, he was sent flying like a cannonball.
Midair, he turned his head in shock—Sweet Mask had appeared right behind him.
The massive chest injury Genos had dealt him earlier was completely healed, not a trace of damage visible on his body.
A moment's distraction was fatal.
Sweet Mask's glowing hand drove into Genos's back armor, deliberately avoiding the sections reinforced with white vibranium fragments.
Crack—
Genos's chestplate shattered, and Sweet Mask's hand burst out from his front. At the same time, Genos's entire right arm was severed at the shoulder, the metallic limb spinning away through the air.
Sparks flew. Genos raised his left arm, energy gathering in his palm—
"It's useless."
Sweet Mask sneered and swung Genos down, slamming him hard into the arena floor. The impact made the entire building tremble, leaving a crater almost five meters wide in the alloy ground.
As flames sputtered and smoke cleared, two figures came into view—Sweet Mask, his clothes tattered, and Genos, his golden electronic eyes flickering madly, his mechanical body in ruins.
"…"
The sudden turn left the entire venue silent. Faces were filled with shock and disbelief.
"Sweet Mask… is this guy really this strong?!"
S-Class Rank 5, Child Emperor, murmured, "At his current level, he could rank in the top five."
"Hmph. Nothing worth watching. Is Saitama back yet? His disciple might die here."
Tatsumaki, arms crossed, huffed in disdain.
"Surprised? Not many know my ability—because those who do are dead. Even with the S-Class title, you can't escape the fact you're just trash. Give up, junk."
Sweet Mask ground Genos's head into the floor with his foot, smirking coldly.
The Rank 15 cyborg had nearly made him lose, but now Sweet Mask felt he had restored his pride.
"I won't give up. In Sensei's dictionary, there's no such word as surrender. As his disciple, I can't disgrace him."
Genos's voice rasped. As a cyborg, he felt no pain, but he could still feel the fire of humiliation burning inside him.
"Heh, Sensei? That bald guy? I hope he's as tough as you."
Sweet Mask grinned, pressing down harder.
"Sweet Mask, Genos's points already belong to you. Let him go!"
Child Emperor could no longer watch in silence and called out.
"When did S-Class fill up with kids like you? The Association never said we have to spare someone before they surrender. Right, referee?"
He shot Child Emperor a mocking glance and turned to the Association staff.
"Y-Yes… yes…"
"Then, Genos… last chance. Beg, and I'll let you go—or become scrap metal."
The pressure under Sweet Mask's foot increased. The sound of Genos's metal skull warping filled the air.
Pain flashed in his electronic eyes, but Genos showed no sign of yielding. "Death doesn't scare me. My only regret, Saitama-sensei… is that I couldn't grow stronger alongside you. As your disciple… I'm sorry."
The head slowly caved in. Many heroes looked away, pained, while some kindhearted female heroes cried out in desperation.
"Genos… surrender!"
"Please, Genos, beg—don't die!"
"Sweet Mask! Let him go! I'm begging you!"
The air was thick with sorrow, but Sweet Mask was unmoved. He never went back on his decisions. His justice would be carried out to the end.
"Heh… touching. Maybe next time they design you, they'll reinforce your skull. Goodbye, Genos."
He pressed down hard, already imagining the sound of the cyborg's head being crushed. To him, this wasn't resolve—it was stupidity.
"Genos, are you okay?"
Whoosh—
A pale blur flashed past his vision. Sweet Mask suddenly felt his foot locked in place, as if welded to the ground, a strange jolt hitting his chest.
A shining bald head appeared before him—a white cape, yellow jumpsuit, red gloves.
Saitama crouched, one hand gripping Sweet Mask's foot, slowly prying it away from Genos's head.
"Sensei!!"
Light flared in Genos's golden eyes. His broken body trembled as he tried to rise, but he could only lie there, filled with gratitude, staring at Saitama.
"Oh… you're wrecked already. Was it him who did this?"
Saitama turned his head, expressionless, toward the now pale-faced Sweet Mask.
(End of Chapter)
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