Chapter 167: What Kind of Ultimate Sis-con Is This?!
Earth, City Z Ruins.
Zombieman, now fully reconstructed, found a scrap of torn cloth to wrap around his waist. He squatted atop a pile of rubble, staring at the carnage with a look of pure exasperation while smoking a cigarette.
As he looked at the row of S-Class heroes laid out in front of him, his headache worsened.
What a mess... how did everyone end up horizontal like this?
After Solar Sperm's rampage, every S-Class hero on the field had sustained catastrophic injuries. Most were completely incapacitated.
Ironically, Zombieman—who had been the first to have his entire upper body vaporized—was the only S-Class hero currently standing, thanks to his specialized regenerative biology.
A pile of cigarette butts sat by his feet; he had clearly gone through several packs while waiting for the dust to settle.
Zombieman scratched his head and glanced at his phone. The signal was dead. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Why is the service so trash...?
The residual energy from the various "God-tier" combatants was still scrambling the local atmosphere. Plus, King and GOD's clash in the upper atmosphere had accidentally shredded several orbital satellites.
City Z was currently a communications black hole. Any outgoing messages were struggling to bypass the interference.
Zombieman had to redial dozens of times before finally getting a weak connection to the Hero Association. He barked orders for a mass deployment of medical evacuation teams before turning his attention to his fallen comrades.
Tornado of Terror (Tatsumaki): Psychic overload. She was currently in a deep coma, suffering from internal trauma and massive blood loss.
Superalloy Darkshine: His state was particularly pathetic. His proud, massive muscles were shredded and soaked in blood. Cracks spiderwebbed across his body like a broken porcelain doll.
The most jarring part? His black skin was still shimmering with a bright luster even while he lay there broken, his body attempting a slow, natural recovery.
Flashy Flash: Completely unconscious and at death's door. His breathing was so shallow it was almost non-existent.
Silver Fang (Bang): After taking a heavy blow from Solar Sperm, the old master was out cold, his body unable to sustain the fight.
Atomic Samurai: A single punch had almost turned him into a human donut. If he hadn't managed to intercept the blow with his blade at the last millisecond, he would have been vaporized. He lay in the ruins, heavily mangled.
Pig God: Relatively light injuries. He was currently replenishing his "nutritional reserves" by inhaling massive amounts of snacks. Zombieman had no idea where the man kept finding food in a cratered city, but as long as he was okay, it didn't matter.
Puri-Puri Prisoner: ...
Zombieman's eye twitched as he looked at the prisoner. Despite being covered in blood and deeply unconscious, Prisoner's face wore a bashful, blushing expression as he curled up in a "delicate" fetal position. Zombieman quickly looked away.
Then, there was Tanktop Master.
"Uh..."
Zombieman stared at the four-foot-tall muscle dwarf lying in the dirt. He vaguely remembered hearing about a specific first-aid method for this particular hero.
Recalling the instructions, Zombieman stepped forward. He reached down, pinched the strap of Tanktop Master's blue tanktop, pulled it back, and let it go.
DUANG!
DUANG!
The elastic snapped back with a resonant, rubbery sound.
A miracle occurred.
Tanktop Master's injuries began to knit together at a visible rate. In a heartbeat, his wounds closed, his fractured bones reassembled, and new skin grew over the scars.
But the cost was obvious.
Looking down at the hero, who was now barely a meter tall, Zombieman rubbed his nose awkwardly.
Well, he's alive. He'll understand. Probably.
As for Watchdog Man...
Zombieman spat out his cigarette butt and lit another. Through the rising smoke, he watched the white furry creature sitting on all fours, currently using a hind leg to scratch its ear.
Watchdog Man had taken very little damage. Or rather, he was just that strong. Throughout the entire ordeal, he had barely been touched. He was just exhausted and looked a bit dusty.
Zombieman's gaze drifted to a small boy lying flat on his back.
Child Emperor's various mechanical gadgets had been reduced to scrap. Fortunately, the boy himself was physically unharmed. The flame-wreathed monster apparently hadn't intended to kill a child—a small mercy in a disaster.
But when he saw the guy lying next to Child Emperor, Zombieman actually felt bad.
Can that even be fixed?
Drive Knight had been bisected. A casual strike from Solar Sperm had detonated his entire lower chassis. Only his massive, scarlet mechanical eye continued to rotate slowly.
His vocoder flickered with sparks, trying to process speech, but no sound came out. The hardware was too damaged to even emit static.
Suddenly, Zombieman frowned. He noticed something.
Wait. Where is Metal Bat?
He scanned the perimeter and spotted a trail of blood droplets leading away from the center of the ruins, extending into the distance.
Dammit... is that kid trying to be a tough guy again?
Zombieman's expression darkened. He knew that for a sixteen-year-old like Metal Bat, pride was everything. The boy was likely pushing himself beyond his limits to prove a point, even when he was clearly at his breaking point.
Confirming the other heroes were stable for now, Zombieman broke into a run, following the blood trail.
He sprinted through the ruins, weaving around broken buildings and over mountains of rubble, his eyes locked on the crimson stains on the ground.
On a shattered road that was barely recognizable, Zombieman finally caught up.
Metal Bat's back was toward him. He was swaying violently, leaning heavily on a bat that was bent and nearly snapped in two. He was dragging one leg, forcing himself forward one agonizing step at a time.
With every step, blood dripped from his chin onto the asphalt. His red shirt was now a deep, soaked crimson.
"Oi! Metal Bat! Stop! You're heavily injured! I'm taking you back for medical attention!"
Zombieman shouted as he ran, but Metal Bat didn't turn around. He just kept limping forward as if he were trying to reach the edge of the world.
Something is wrong.
Zombieman dashed forward and grabbed Metal Bat by the shoulder, forcing him to a halt.
He circled around to the front, ready to scold the boy, but he froze.
"You..."
From Zombieman's perspective, Metal Bat's eyes were completely rolled back into his head. Blood was gushing from a scalp wound, and his muscles were vibrating with tremors. The boy was out cold.
This is...
Based on Zombieman's extensive experience with dying, he knew for a fact that Metal Bat had lost consciousness long ago. So how is he still moving?
Then, Zombieman noticed Metal Bat's lips moving. He was muttering something in a faint, raspy whisper.
Zombieman leaned in close. The words were like a dream-delirium, barely audible over the wind:
"Zenko's... piano competition... can't miss it... she'll be... so angry..."
Wait, what?!
Zombieman's eyes widened. He couldn't believe his ears.
You mean to tell me you're pushing through a fatal injury, operating on pure instinct after losing consciousness... all because you don't want to miss your sister's piano recital?!
Just what kind of Ultimate Sis-con are you?!
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