Chapter 844: Bad Woman
Zzt~
An eerie, distorted forcefield rippled outward across the Hero Association concourse.
Emerald telekinetic brilliance whipped around Tornado, her hair dancing in violent waves. Her lips curled into a sharp smirk, her eyes sparkling with unmistakable intrigue.
As the preeminent psychic of this world, Tornado commanded reality purely through instinct.
Though often dismissed as petulant and unreasonable, her intuition regarding the surrounding environment was razor-sharp.
She rarely exerted herself simply because most matters were thoroughly meaningless; she had long reached a threshold where instinct alone solved almost every crisis.
Yet the man before her was cut from entirely different cloth. The velocity he demonstrated upon arrival, paired with the passive pressure field radiating from his stance that continuously provoked her psychokinesis...
This man bore zero resemblance to the frail fodder littering the A-Class or even the S-Class. He had real capability!
Kaito Shirogane held his ground. Under the abrasive friction of her emerald psychic glow, his AT Field resonated, shimmering with translucent golden light.
He looked straight ahead at the green-haired girl, whose airborne hovering brought her level with his eyes. A bizarre, nostalgic sensation surfaced within his chest.
Back in the B711 world, Tornado of Terror had been an ironclad rule—a walking catastrophe that standard Reincarnators were strictly forbidden from approaching.
Yet now, he stood before her as an absolute peer.
Though an outcome remained untracked, Kaito held full confidence that once his core trump cards were engaged, his operational ceiling stood fully equal to hers.
Both possessed the capacity to scour the continental crust and shatter planetary structures.
Across this world, entities capable of overpowering them were exceedingly few.
The anomalous flicker in Makima's eyes vanished in an instant. Composed as ever, she led Aurelion toward the far corridor, having zero intention of entangling herself in a territorial clash between two monsters.
Tornado of Terror was formidable—absurdly so. In Makima's tactical framework, she was an archetype who, despite possessing glaring psychological flaws, remained extraordinarily difficult to subjugate.
To domesticate a target of that profile, preparatory milestones had to be cleared first—such as systematically grinding down her pride and shattering her spirit.
The Control Devil wielded a formidable conceptual authority: she could establish absolute dominion over any entity she perceived as inferior to herself.
Yet contrary to the assumptions of many Reincarnators, the mechanic was not without limits.
She could not arbitrarily rewrite her own baseline cognition to invert an insurmountable disparity in power.
Certain entities radiated an intrinsic essence so vast that a single glance laid bare the ontological chasm separating them.
Before existence of that magnitude, no amount of cognitive self-deception could cultivate the psychological conviction of superiority.
Makima took two steps forward, only to realize Aurelion was not following. She turned back. The gargantuan dragon-man was rooted to the spot.
A solitary index finger was leveled horizontally, pointing directly between his eyes.
Across Aurelion's throat and forearms, draconic scales surfaced in violent spasms. He was locked down.
It felt as though an unyielding, razor-sharp blade was pressed flush against his forehead. A single twitch, and that blade would bore clean through his skull to liquefy his brain.
Though draconic lineages were celebrated for peerless vitality—and he ranked among the rare, noble castes of pureblood dragons—the man standing before him was an anomaly already cataloged as an exceptional combat unit by the Machina Court and the Void Paradise.
Mercenary Tao!
Not long ago, intelligence filtering through multiple primary realms confirmed that the Void Paradise's celebrated Thunder God pantheon had been practically wiped out by a single operative from the Infinite Dimensional Space.
A Reincarnator from the frailest Space obliterating an apex pantheon of an elder Paradise was telemetry that spread across dimensions at lightning speed.
Both the Primordial Dragon Court and the Immortal Dynasties were well aware of the incident.
The Infinite Dimensional Space—long treated as a hollow punching bag kicked between elder factions in primary and secondary worlds—had finally nurtured an authentic titan.
Even within the Third Sequence, this was an exceptional unit designated: Archetype of Terminus and Genesis: Mercenary Tao!
As a Fourth Sequence combatant of the Dragon Court, Aurelion had always considered his martial output capable of rivaling the Third Sequence vanguards of lesser Spaces.
In the Machina Court's analytical index, Aurelion was formally tagged as [Fourth Sequence: Rule-Breaker].
Yet right now, he faced suffocating, unprecedented pressure.
While casually squaring off against Tornado of Terror, Mercenary Tao had leveled a single finger toward his brow, wrapping him in an icy shroud of absolute mortality.
This man held the Authority of Death!
Moreover, he was a God of Martial Arts specializing in close-quarters execution.
The biological advantages Aurelion routinely lorded over lesser species offered zero leverage here.
"Share a little intelligence with me, hero of the Primordial Dragon Court~"
Kaito Shirogane's cadence was rhythmic and mocking, the suffocating presence radiating from his vessel flaring before pulling back in a microsecond.
He knew engaging Tornado here was out of the question; reckless as she seemed, she was not an archetype who disregarded civilian casualties.
Makima and this entity reeking of ancient draconic blood, however, possessed the exact telemetry he required.
Kaito made no effort to mask his malice. In this fraction of a second, he looked less like an operative answering a heroic mobilization, and far more like a catastrophic villain.
"Everyone! Please, calm down!"
A man in a sharp black suit sprinted over in a panic, waving his arms frantically while casting a desperate, pleading look toward Tornado.
Tornado clicked her tongue. She held zero interest in Devil Hunters, Public Safety, or the Cabinet; to her, mundane human institutions were completely beneath notice.
She had merely been curious to see this mysterious arrival flex his muscles.
If he proved capable of matching veterans like Bang, it would at least lighten her operational load.
"Hmph. I don't care what personal vendetta you two have, but if you want to brawl, take it outside," Tornado scoffed, turning her back to float away, though her psychic aura remained tightly wound.
"Don't get in my way."
Kaito cast a sideways glance at Makima. That subtle cognitive ripple earlier was undoubtedly the activation trace of the Control Devil.
The arriving Hero Association executive had evidently fallen under her complete dominion.
Makima was actively shielding this operative of the Primordial Dragon Court. Thus, the Dragon Court's institutional footholds in this world were the Cabinet, Public Safety, and Makima...
Kaito lowered his finger and strolled after Tornado.
Approaching the elevator banks, an emerald optical scanner flashed to life.
Identification: Hero Name [Mercenary Tao for Fun]. Recognized merits: City J campaign. Clearance granted.
Tornado had evidently been awaiting the diagnostic result. The scale of the Heroes Assemble mobilization was massive, which had naturally allowed opportunistic elements to infiltrate the perimeter.
Devils, rogue hunters, Mysterious Beings, and anomalous entities whose origins baffled even Tornado had slipped into the headquarters under the guise of heroes.
The automated gate had been engineered specifically to filter the pretenders.
"Mercenary Tao for Fun... Tch. What an ugly name."
Tornado banked sharply and flew into the upper shaft. Kaito stepped into the elevator, deducing that the clearance was the handiwork of the Observers.
They harmonized cross-world reputations, allowing narrative figures to process disparate credentials.
It provided a unified administrative bridge across the varied Space systems.
The elevator ascended directly to the penthouse. The doors slid open to reveal a bustling concourse packed with heroes in varied regalia.
A casual sweep revealed a couple of operatives sporting transformation belts around their waists—whether Reincarnators or native figures remained to be seen.
Bored by the crowd, Kaito strode toward the innermost sanctum: an executive council chamber reserved exclusively for the S-Class.
Kaito walked toward the threshold with steady, unhurried steps.
Clad in plate armor with katanas resting at their hips, Iaian and his two companions rose immediately, hands dropping to their hilts.
"This is the S-Class assembly chamber. Unauthorized personnel are barred from entering."
Kaito walked straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the heavy double doors, giving no indication he had registered their presence.
Schwing!
Blades cleared scabbards in a clean, synchronized draw. In lower-tier derivative worlds, an Iai slash of that caliber qualified as a lethal execution art.
Snap! Crack! Shatter!
Three distinct fractures rang out as all three forged blades snapped in mid-air.
Iaian's pupils contracted to pinpricks. His strike had landed dead against an invisible, violently twisted field of kinetic force—a barrier of such crushing density that it shattered the kinetic momentum of his slash before snapping the hardened steel like brittle chalk.
Is this... a telekinetic barrier?!
He thought of Miss Tornado's signature psychic wards, yet the mechanical texture felt entirely distinct.
Before he could voice his alarm, Kaito pushed the doors open.
Lounging along the left flank of the round conference table, Atomic Samurai tilted his head with a toothpick rolled between his teeth, sizing up the newcomer who had disarmed his disciples in an eye-blink.
A stunt like that proved the man was no lightweight.
Yet Atomic Samurai was hardly renowned for his patience. Folding his arms, he smirked: "Think you can barge into our assembly just because you know a parlor trick with kinetic wards?"
Seated beside him, the silver-haired S-Class Rank 3, Silver Fang Bang, studied the young man stepping through the frame.
Tall, impeccably proportioned, wrapped in a mantle of twisted, anomalous kinetic force... And more than that...
Bang raised a hand, cutting off Atomic Samurai's mockery.
"To think someone has actually reached that realm..."
A tremor of shock broke across Bang's weathered, wrinkled features. Eliminating every impossible alternative, he was left with a singular, staggering realization: this young man was a martial artist who had breached the absolute apex beyond the Stillness of Water!
A theoretical summit he had believed impossible for mortal flesh to attain.
Vacant as the void, yet moving in flawless, organic harmony with the fabric of reality. Closing one's eyes, one could scarcely detect his presence.
All kinetic force and personal aura were sealed down to zero, harboring an underlying might capable of shattering existence in an instant.
This was no longer the realm of Water. Water was formless and carried catastrophic potential, yet the presence before him stood far above it.
This was the realm of Heaven!
An omnipresent force that occupied no singular coordinate—the foundational terminus of all martial arts!
Bang pushed himself slowly to his feet, the martial intent coiling within his chest beginning to shift in profound resonance.
"Master Bang, you..."
Atomic Samurai was arrogant, yet he held unreserved deference for genuine titans like the grandmaster Bang.
Atomic Samurai knew the depth of Bang's supremacy better than almost anyone, yet this living legend of the martial arts was looking upon a young man with that kind of gaze.
The gaze of a challenger!
The gaze of an apprentice looking up toward an ancient predecessor!
The gaze of a pilgrim beholding the ultimate summit of the path.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
A concussive, rhythmic cadence boomed through the chamber, rattling the glass. Jolted from the trance induced by the Martial God's Ultimate Intent, Bang snapped back to reality, turning his head to find the scarred man seated at the head of the left flank.
King was staring forward with an icy, deadly serious expression, his eyes fixed on Bang and the young martial artist.
The King Engine!
In a flash, Bang recognized his indiscretion. If a duel erupted here, the heroes assembled outside answering the mobilization would suffer catastrophic collateral damage.
That was an intolerable failure of duty.
Simultaneously, a wave of profound respect for King surged within Bang's chest. King had maintained absolute, unflinching composure before such a monster.
Everyone else—from Flashy Flash to Superalloy Darkshine—had registered Bang's reaction and grasped that this newcomer was formidable beyond sanity, their respiration and heart rates fluctuating in response.
Only King remained completely unchanged.
"My apologies. This old man lost his composure."
"This gentleman is..."
Watching Bang rein in his battle lust, Kaito let his gaze relax. He nodded smoothly, taking an empty seat directly beside King. No one raised a word of objection.
The King Engine boomed with escalating fury.
Bang and Atomic Samurai quickly smoothed over the tension, urging King not to take offense at this newly arrived powerhouse, Mercenary Tao for Fun.
In truth, beneath his stony poker face, King was unraveling into pure hysteria. That terrifying, unapproachable monster had chosen to sit right next to him!
Badump! Badump! Badump!
His heart was hammering completely out of control.
Amused by the spectacle, Kaito let the tension linger for a moment before turning toward Bang.
"Speaking of my hero moniker, Master Bang... have you crossed paths with a gentleman named Saitama recently?"
His primary purpose in arriving at headquarters was isolating Saitama's coordinates and status. This reality differed sharply from the standard One-Punch Man baseline; it was no longer partitioned merely from Cities A through Z, but encompassed nation-states, geopolitics, and cabinets.
Bang hadn't expected the young martial artist to initiate conversation, let alone open with an unfamiliar name.
"Saitama?"
"This old man does not recall an acquaintance by that name."
Kaito's brow furrowed. Looking around the room, Genos was conspicuously absent as well.
This diverged sharply from original canon. Something catastrophic had altered the timeline, preventing Saitama and Genos from entering the Hero Association's radar.
Shortly thereafter, the remaining S-Class heroes filed into the chamber. Executive leadership commenced the briefing regarding Madame Shibabawa's final prophecy, warning that an unprecedented calamity was about to make planetfall.
They urged the S-Class to establish operational sectors and maintain open communication to brace for the apocalypse.
Kaito knew the prophecy heralded the arrival of the Dark Matter Thieves, whose dreadnought was likely hovering on the edge of the stratosphere.
Yet Saitama's total absence left him with an uneasy premonition.
At that moment, an executive in a black suit slipped behind Kaito's chair, discretely pressing a folded note into his palm.
Kaito unfolded the slip. Written across the parchment in elegant, delicate script—rendered readable via the Universal Language module—was a single sentence:
The person you are searching for was likely led away by Aurelion and his cadre.
The note offered zero elaboration, yet Kaito's sensory field pierced through multiple floorboards, locking onto Makima standing by a panoramic window several levels down, calmly sipping her coffee.
Ambition burned undisguised within her amber, ringed irises.
She intended to weaponize Mercenary Tao for Fun.