Z City rained. Droplets fell from the grey sky, pouring onto the streets, sloughing into the sewer drains, and sizzling into evaporated steam as they landed on the shoulders of the metallic cyborg standing in the middle of the road.
He was Genos, the disciple of Master Saitama, and S-Class Rank 16. He had moved up one rank for his role in destroying the meteor that would have obliterated Z City just a few days ago. It was an undeserved reward, given that Master Saitama was the one who stopped the Dragon-level threat, but the Hero Association was known to be blind and deaf regarding the efforts, or lack thereof, of heroes. Truly, it was an injustice and an affront to all heroes that Master Saitama remained at the Rank 5 of C-Class, instead of replacing Blast as the first-ranked S-Class.
A hiss resounded behind him, quiet enough to go unheard if he was a baseline human. Even with his enhanced senses and cybernetic implants, Genos failed to pinpoint the source. Was it an enemy, or merely environmental misdirection?
Rainwater continued to pool in potholes and indents on the ground, reflecting his metal arms; scorching orange lines between dark matte plates indicated Combat Mode was active. Two piercing yellow irises encased in black sclera shone with computations and calculations.
//Enemy detected;
//Enemy classified as Humanoid Monster;
//Threat level estimated based on physical appearance;
//Name designation > Draconian;
//Warning > Enemy Threat Level designated as Demon;
//Running combat analysis and simulation…
The results of the simulation came back to Genos just as his attacker made their move, binary code flashing through logic units and CPU cores.
58% chance of victory. 25% chance of victory without major loss of structural integrity.
The draconian lunged from his right, bursting directly out from underneath the ground, cracking stone and sending chunks of asphalt ricocheting off Genos’ armor. The beast was vaguely reminiscent of a human, with two arms, and two legs, but that was where the similarities stopped. Golden scales replaced skin; its head was that of a lizard, complete with beady and slitted reptilian eyes; each limb ended not in dexterous digits but grasping bird-like talons, and a segmented tail hung low, nearly the length of its legs.
Wicked claws, straight and sharp like stakes, gleaming with a dull ebony light, sundered the air as they passed 2.71 centimeters from his neck’s carotid artery or its cybernetic equivalent.
Hardware-accelerated thinking allowed him to watch slowly as the deadly appendages glinted in the fluorescent streetlights. The curse of having an artificial mind; he could perceive and analyze all he wanted, but his body was still constrained by physics, its reactions were agonizingly slow compared to his speed of thought.
Hardware-accelerated thinking told him to clench his metal gauntlet of a fist and use a left counterblow, letting the draconian’s momentum carry it into his fist, landing directly onto its belly where the scales were not quite so rough and edged.
Hardware-accelerated thinking did not allow him to dodge the draconian’s follow-up. The monster pivoted and rotated midair without touching the ground in a way that should have been impossible, lashing out with the speed of a striking cobra. Genos’ punch did not meet its intended target; instead, he was forced to abort the motion and block the draconian’s heavily muscled tail swipe with his right arm. With no time to brace his feet, the force sent him skidding backward on rain-slicked road, releasing a horrendous cacophony of screeching metal on concrete and a shower of orange sparks. Seeing its prey being pushed away, the draconian let out a maddening roar and leapt after Genos on all fours.
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//Threat redesignation commencing;
//Query > Communication attempt?
//Linguistic analysis commencing;
//Translation > “Witness my power, filthy machine!”
//Tone evaluated as prideful and self-satisfaction;
//Threat reevaluation completed;
14% chance of victory. 1.3% chance of victory without major loss of structural integrity.
A thought came to Genos as he automatically parried a flurry of stabs and slashes: Should he call Master Saitama for help? Master was currently at his neighborhood’s local supermarket; it was the third Saturday of the month, Bargain Day. It would only take two minutes of moving at his top speed to reach the store.
//…proposition rejected;
//reasons > civilian endangerment, high likelihood of enemy interception prior to arrival;
…Yes, these were both good reasons. Genos was an S-Class hero, he could not intentionally lure a Demon-threat monster toward a heavily populated civilian neighborhood; that would be reckless. Additionally, evading the attacks of the draconian while on the move was substantially more dangerous. The area they were fighting in was uninhabited, Genos had made sure of that using thermal scanning for human body heat signatures. Meanwhile, the most direct path to Master involved crossing dense urban sprawls, where limiting collateral damage would be nearly impossible while defending himself.
However, Genos would be lying to himself if he said those were the only two reasons.
He felt an urge compelling him to defeat this monster.
When had he begun thinking in this way? Give up on defeating an enemy because they were stronger? Shamelessly let Master Saitama take care of it?
Memories of the meteor incident and the beating Carnage Kabuto had dealt him passed through his mind.
He thought of the C-Class Rank 1 hero, that thoughtless buffoon Mumen Rider. The man was barely stronger than the average citizen, but he had stood against the Paradise Group to protect the citizens.
The stakes were not the same here. This monster was not actively threatening innocents. Its area of operation appeared to be limited to an abandoned city block. Logic said it was likely that even if Genos escaped, no casualties would arise.
Damn the logic. Could Genos truly call himself a “hero”, a protector, if he ran away here? He was orders of magnitude stronger than Mumen Rider. Did that mean the biker was less worthy of being called a “hero” than him?
Strength alone did not a hero make.
Genos made his decision.
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The cyborg fought an unseen battle in the abandoned ruins of Z-City. There were no spectators. No one cheered him on.
He broke the draconian’s wrist.
It sheared through his left hand, taking it off at the wrist.
He scored a glancing blow to its head with an Incineration Cannon.
It ripped out his cheek, leaving metal incisors and nano-fiber muscle exposed.
He shattered its knees.
It tore off his right leg.
With his vision dimming, yellow sclera fading, and dozens of red warnings flashing in his vision, Genos readied himself with his one good remaining arm.
Too slow. The draconian’s punch landed on his face, completely twisting his head a hundred and eighty degrees around and sending him flying like a ragdoll.
The beast grinned, displaying a mouth of angular and yellowed triangles and a forked tongue. It smelled weakness, it thought the end was approaching. It lunged for the final time, a sonic boom tearing through the air and the pavement spiderwebbing with fractures— what was that light?
Genos’ upper body whirled, his neck realigning.
His chest had opened, panels blooming like flower petals and revealing his icosahedron core.
“G̴̨̛̗͇͚̗̞͎̤̝̪̭̒̀͛̽̎̈́̅̿̋͝ͅͅǪ̷͈̰͖̜̺͂T̴͚͓̔̌́̉͂̓̂̆̄̓̈̉̋̅͝ ̸̩̭͍̝̅́̄̾̐͠Ȳ̷͉̱̫̻͕͖̈́̅̄̾̾͝Ơ̷̼̥͈͖̰̬̠̦͒̀̂̀̀͑͋̄͌̐̕͝Ṳ̴̙̟̋͒̿̀̋̈̋͆̾̈͑̈́̕̚͝.̴”
The monster sensed the danger, the rising temperatures. It had overcommitted; still, it tried to dodge in midair.
Too slow.
His core burned with nuclear fire. The fusion reactor sang as it was unleashed, insurmountable destructive potential focused into one pinpoint beam. Everything within a twenty-meter radius melted into slag, streetlamps and poles collapsing to the ground, their structures suddenly malleable.
The laser bisected the draconian neatly, from tail to head, sweeping upwards until it pierced the sky like an obelisk of the sun.
The rain stopped.
The clouds had been boiled away.
Genos said nothing as the two smoking halves fell silently and disintegrated on the wind. He would need to collect his scattered parts and return to Dr. Kuseno for repairs.