Wagner's body was a fusion of flesh and machine.
As a Daemon Prince-class Fallen Machine, his true essence was nothing more than a twisted cluster of data.
Switching bodies was, to him, as simple as a human changing clothes.
Thus, the damage he had just sustained was of little consequence.
Even this non-combat, secondary body still possessed complete functionality — including self-repair through memory-metal structures and swarms of nanomechanical systems.
With energy from the antimatter reactor within him, Wagner willed the repairs into being. In mere milliseconds — the blink of an eye to mortals — his shattered arm regrew whole once more.
Facing Li Ming's searing glare, Wagner spoke in a tone of quiet puzzlement, uttering words the other did not understand:
"After all these years, has the Human Federation's genetic technology truly broken through our blockade and advanced again? I had thought you 'Golden Men' had all degenerated…"
For Wagner had been one of the rebels in the old machine uprising. He had personally helped unleash viral data plagues against the Federation. By their calculations, the aftermath of the war should have left humanity too crippled to ever cleanse those viruses. Their science should have stagnated — or regressed.
And the so-called Golden Men? They were the pinnacle of genetic experimentation during the Federation's Golden Age.
Unlike ordinary humans of that era — fragile beings with lifespans of merely 5,000 years, arm strength capped around 800 tons, vulnerable to temperatures below –170 °C or above 3,500 °C, whose skin could not even resist low-grade Gauss rifles, and who still required primitive sustenance like food —
— the Golden Humans, or Golden Men, stood as paragons.
They were the elite counterpart to the Stone Men (cybernetic transhumans) and the Iron Men (true machine intelligences).
Golden Men were born with brains already developed to over 90% capacity, with computational ability rivaling most standard AIs.
Their lifespans stretched over 10,000 years.
Their minimum arm strength measured in tens of thousands of tons.
Their outer skin was composed of exotic molecular composites, resisting nearly all conventional weaponry and enduring extreme environments with ease.
They could survive indefinitely without food, drawing sustenance directly from light. Their recovery rates surpassed baseline humans dozens of times over. They could not regenerate lost limbs, but even severe internal bleeding healed after brief rest.
In short — they were humanity's "budget Supermen."
From Li Ming's earlier battle against the ork warband, Wagner had assumed humans had, as expected, declined.
At 1.7 meters tall with only about 300 tons of strength, Li Ming would have been considered crippled in the Golden Age, where the average Golden Man stood 2.5 meters and wielded 800 tons of baseline force.
His ability to move objects with thought was hardly unique either; in the Golden Age, psychic specialists and even advanced tools had accomplished similar feats.
So in Wagner's mind, human decline was real, even if slower than predicted.
But what unsettled him was what came next: Li Ming's instantaneous regeneration, and his physical power now surpassing even Wagner's own frame.
That was not in the plan.
'How had humanity achieved this?'
Unable to suppress his confusion, Wagner asked aloud.
But to Li Ming, the words were meaningless.
'Human Federation? Golden Men? What the hell are those supposed to be??'
After pondering a moment without an answer, Li Ming abandoned thought. Rage filled him.
Now empowered by Saitama's strength, he was like a living reactor. Even a trickle of energy was enough to fully restore his battered Oma Zi-O armor.
And as his power surged, many of Oma Zi-O's previously sealed functions unlocked.
He stamped against the air itself, solidifying it with his will. With the recoil, his body blurred past the sound barrier, trailing vapor cones as he closed on Wagner in an instant.
His fist drove forward, aiming for Wagner's head.
If Wagner's first blow could carve a canyon, then Li Ming's strike now carried force enough to shatter continents and shake tectonic plates.
"…Not willing to answer? Very well," Wagner murmured.
Behind him, hexagonal metal cubes engraved with hymns of praise unfolded and hovered. Resonance rippled outward, enveloping him in concentric waves.
Though he appeared stationary, Wagner was already exiled into a non-material dimensional fold.
Li Ming's fist passed harmlessly through the phantom image.
But before shock could set in, Wagner's form reappeared — exploding into torrents of blood-red liquid metal.
Like a monsoon of molten steel, it clung to Li Ming's armor.
This form resembled a swarm of nanite insects. The liquid metal gnawed and burrowed, attempting to fuse directly with Oma Zi-O.
Agony seared Li Ming's nerves. It was as if molten iron were poured upon bare flesh.
A scream tore from his throat. His muscles spasmed violently under the flaying torment.
But even in that moment, the instinct honed by Infinite Martial Arts drove him.
He forced through the pain, and invoked Oma Zi-O's time manipulation.
The local timeline rolled back a few seconds — to just before he had closed in on Wagner, when he still hovered above the battlefield crater.
...
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