Jack finished speaking and calmly regarded the scar-faced man before him—the one who radiated such an impeccable aura of overwhelming strength. A hint of amusement danced in his eyes.
King stood frozen. Silenced. His gaze wavered. Cold sweat beaded at his temples.
Finally, he managed to force the words out.
"How… how did you know…?"
Jack shrugged. Casually. As if discussing the weather.
"If you ignore your terrifying battle records, it's actually quite easy to figure out."
King's internal struggle was visible. Then—a long sigh. His shoulders slumped. All the tension drained from his frame at once, as if he'd been freed from an invisible weight.
"I understand." His voice was quiet. Resigned. "If you're going to expose me to the Hero Association… I'll cooperate voluntarily."
A pause.
"To be honest—living under this title every day? The pressure is… a lot."
"No need for that."
Jack shook his head. Stepped forward with easy familiarity. Clapped King on the shoulder.
The other man's rather unmuscular frame instantly stiffened at the contact.
"People already consider you the strongest hero in their hearts. That's a given fact now. It has very little to do with whether you actually possess the corresponding strength."
Jack's tone turned thoughtful.
"Sometimes, a spiritual symbol is more useful than raw combat power. Don't you think?"
King blinked, processing.
"Besides." Jack's voice shifted. "My main purpose in coming to find you wasn't exposure."
His sincerity was absolute.
After all—King's innate Monster-attracting physique was a walking, breathing Source Point ATM. If Jack could stay by his side long-term? The efficiency of farming Monsters would skyrocket.
King looked bewildered. The conversation had taken turns he hadn't anticipated.
"Then… Mr. Jack? Why did you come to find me…?"
"I came to—"
*BOOM—! *
A violent explosion ripped through the air, cutting Jack off mid-sentence.
Both men whipped their heads toward the road ahead.
A massive crater had erupted on the park pathway. Dust swirled. A vending machine—previously innocuous—now teetered precariously at the crater's edge. Thick metal limbs sprouted from its sides. It pulled itself free from the debris.
On its front, where drink options should have been displayed, a gaping, toothy maw had cracked open.
"WHY—?!" The Vending Machine Monster's roar echoed across the empty park. "Why am I assigned to this godforsaken location?!"
Its single blood-red eye swept the area.
"Not a single person passes by all day! No one buys my drinks! My PERFORMANCE! My KPIS!"
The eye locked onto them.
"You two… you look very thirsty."
A grotesque grin split its display face.
"Want to buy a drink? Hehehehe—!"
The grin widened.
"If you don't buy—I'll kill you and make you INTO DRINKS!"
King: …
Here we go again. I definitely didn't check the almanac before leaving today.
*THUMP. THUMP. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP…! *
The familiar Emperor Engine began its low rumble. Preheating. King's body instinctively shifted into defensive posture.
(Ready to flee.)
Jack's lips curved into a genuine smile.
This. This is it.
Before King's engine could fully roar, Jack raised his right arm. Palm open. And unleashed a basketball-sized Scorching Heat Bullet.
"Hehehehe— UGH! AHHHHHH—!!"
*BOOM—!!! *
The explosion dwarfed the previous one. A small mushroom cloud rose nearly four stories high. Charred residue. Scattered parts. The Vending Machine Monster's twisted will ended before it had truly begun.
[Killed Tiger-level Monster 'Vending Machine That Couldn't Sell Drinks' | Gained Source Points × 87!]
King, witness to the entire event, leaned back slightly. Mouth agape. His Emperor Engine—which had barely started—stuttered to an unconscious halt.
"So… so strong…!!"
Jack was very satisfied.
Two Tiger-level Monsters. Less than half an hour. Both effortlessly annihilated.
King's potential as the strongest tool-person on Earth? Unmatched.
He casually patted non-existent dust from his clothes. Turned calmly back to King. Resumed the interrupted conversation as if nothing had happened.
"Where were we? Ah, right."
His expression shifted to sincere. Earnest.
"I've recently encountered a small change in circumstances. Currently homeless. A bit short on cash." He met King's bewildered gaze. "So I was wondering—could I trouble you, King, to take me in for a while? What do you think? Please!"
"…Eh?"
King's brain froze mid-process.
Take him in?
"Ah—this—take you in…?"
"Hmm?" Jack tilted his head. "Is there a problem?"
"Uh… no." King thought for a moment. The outcome didn't seem as bad as he'd initially feared. His shoulders relaxed slightly. "If that's the case… my apartment is actually quite large."
Jack: ???
He forcibly pushed an unrelated image from his mind. Maintained his serious expression.
"Don't you need to think about it?"
Jack even added considerately, "If it's really inconvenient for you, King, I can just sleep under a bridge for a few days. No problem."
King: ???
Listen to this. If I don't agree now—am I even human?
Inner distress warred with social obligation. He forced a smile onto his scarred face.
"No, no, no! Not inconvenient at all! Completely willing!"
"Thank you! That's a huge help!"
Jack's eyebrow rose. Delighted expression firmly in place. He patted King's shoulder again—familiar, companionable.
"In return, I'll help you build some muscle. Really become a strong individual."
"…Huh?"
King's body trembled. His face twisted into something bitter, approaching tears.
"Building muscle… let's just forget about that. It sounds too exhausting…"
Jack nodded in strong agreement.
"Yes, if the meat quality is too poor, it would be very difficult for Monsters to eat. If they take half a bite, dislike it, and stop—and instead torture you—that wouldn't be good at all."
"Ugh…"
King's scarred face, already devoid of dignity, grew even more bitter. The mental image was horrifying. His suspected Monster-summoning physique. Those ferocious faces. The possibility of being disliked mid-consumption.
"I'm sorry. I'll try my best to work on it…"
Success.
Jack had successfully "eaten" King. Secured a base of operations in M City.
He had no current plans to join the Hero Association. But getting acquainted with King beforehand? Using him as Monster bait to farm Source Points? Excellent plan.
Besides being known as the Strongest on Earth, King was also a member of the top hero organization—the "Hotpot Group." That group was genuinely filled with powerhouses. Minimum entry requirement: S-Class. Capable of casually defeating gods.
If he could avoid being their enemy, he would.
King led Jack through streets and alleys. Soon, they arrived at a luxurious residential area in the city center.
King's apartment occupied the twenty-second floor of a high-end high-rise. First-class security. Excellent privacy. Exactly what you'd expect for an S-Class hero's residence.
Jack stepped through the doorway.
And was immediately enveloped by a powerful otaku culture atmosphere.
Massive LCD television dominated the living room. Beneath it: the latest game consoles. Various peripherals of mysterious purpose. Several large bookshelves lined the walls, overflowing with manga, light novels, and beautifully packaged game discs. The air carried a faint sweet-and-savory scent—potato chips, cola, some variety of instant ramen.
Jack surveyed the scene.
"I thought that since you live alone, King, your place would be full of tissues and bento box trash." He nodded approvingly. "But it's actually quite clean."
King's expression stiffened.
Thank goodness I remembered to take out the trash this morning.
Otherwise—image completely ruined.
A pause.
…No. In front of Mr. Jack, there's no image left to ruin anyway.