Events proved Lin Mo right.
In the fight, a little girl hiding behind rubble cried out in fear and drew Deep Sea King's gaze.
He gave up the clash with Genos and turned to strike her.
Genos roared, flashed in front of the girl, and spread his arms as a shield.
Deep Sea King's mouth gaped and spewed highly corrosive acid.
"Zzzzzz—!"
The acid drenched Genos's back and left arm; the nauseating sizzle rang through the air.
Armor dissolved at visible speed, exposing complex internals that threw off sparks.
"Graaah!" Genos grunted, but still held fast before the girl without a step back.
"To throw your life away for an ant? Foolish justice."
Deep Sea King seized the chance, flashed behind him, clamped his shredded left arm, and ripped!
With a shriek of tearing metal, the entire arm came off; severed cables frayed in open air.
"Genos!" Cries burst in the shelter.
Unbalanced and disarmed, Genos was weakened.
Deep Sea King pressed, raining heavy blows.
Metal shards flew; Genos couldn't resist— finally a massive punch slammed him into the ground; the glow in his core dimmed to black— immobilized.
Onscreen, Deep Sea King planted his foot on Genos's broken body and roared in triumph.
Rain washed his paltry wounds, making him look like a demon-god from the abyss.
J City's last line fell.
Despair, like the unending rain, drowned every heart in the shelter.
Two S-Class heroes had fallen in succession— who could save them?
Lin Mo watched the arrogant figure on the screen; the King Engine in him thundered at peak.
But his eyes held no fear— only a cold calm.
He felt the golden power in his palm seething to be born.
The reporter's hopeless voice came through:
"Deep Sea King has defeated all heroes! He… he's moving toward the largest shelter in the city center! My god! There are tens of thousands of evacuees there!"
Everyone heard it— panic erupted.
Some clasped hands in prayer; some cursed heaven; some collapsed and sobbed.
The end felt so real.
Lin Mo took it all in.
He saw the mother and child clinging in a corner; the old man with blank eyes; the youths clenching fists yet powerless.
Then he slowly stood.
His motion wasn't fast, but it drew eyes amid the chaos.
A middle-aged man beside him noticed—and heard that drumming heartbeat by his side—stunned.
"T-this… that sound is…"
Lin Mo ignored the looks.
He lifted his head and stared at the heavy metal doors of the shelter as if his gaze could pass through to the Deep Sea King raging in the rain beyond.
He squeezed his fist, feeling the power, then opened it and studied his palm.
He remembered his past helplessness— and the power he now held.
"Seems…" he murmured, voice soft, as if to himself.
"I can't just watch like before."
At that instant he moved:
"Sonic Movement."
In a blink, Lin Mo's figure evaporated from the spot.
The middle-aged man gaped, jaw dropping, frozen.
Seconds later, as if remembering something, he leapt up in joy and shouted with all his might:
"KING— that's Lord KING!!!"
"Lord KING is headed to the front! Everyone in the shelter is saved!"
Like a nail in the sea, the shout stilled the riot.
Crying, curses, prayers— all stopped.
All heads snapped to the giant live screen; hope flared again in their eyes, trusting that the legend would, as always, work a "miracle."
——
Elsewhere, just as Deep Sea King reached the last street before the shelter, an unexpected figure blocked him.
A tight close-up filled the broadcast.
In the frame, a man in a green uniform, wearing a cheap helmet and goggles, astride an utterly ordinary bicycle "Justice," stood in the storm, resolutely barring the monster's path.
Behind him was the shelter—the hope of tens of thousands.
"It's… C-Class No. 1, Unlicensed Rider!" people recognized him at once.
An uproar followed.
"Run! Are you crazy!" a young man shouted.
"Even S-Class Genos… What can a C-Class do! It's suicide!"
"Don't go! Please, run!"
They couldn't understand this suicidal act.
On screen, Unlicensed Rider dropped his bike. Soaked through, his body looked scrawny before the giant monster, even trembling.
But he spread his arms and, with all his strength, shouted his creed:
"Of course I know I can't win! S-Class or C-Class— I don't care about that!"
His voice, carried by the reporter's mic and the howling storm, spread across the city and echoed clearly in every corner of the shelter.
"It's not about whether I can win! It's that I have to stand here! To oppose you!"
-------
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