King's face flushed slightly. He pivoted smoothly to a new subject.
"Make yourself at home. Drinks and cakes in the fridge. Snacks under the coffee table."
Jack toed off his shoes and placed them neatly in the shoe cabinet. "Then I'll make myself at home."
They moved into the living room. King headed to the kitchen for fruit. When he returned, Jack was already exploring—peering around like someone preparing for a long stay, familiarizing himself with the layout.
King: …
Oh no. My comfortable solitary life really might be ending.
But strangely, the nervous tension from earlier—when he'd been coerced into… voluntarily… agreeing—had dissipated considerably. Jack was terrifyingly strong, yes. But he didn't seem to bear any ill will.
Jack picked up an unopened game disc, examining it with curiosity. King seized the opportunity, grabbing a controller from the sofa.
"This is a newly released fighting game. Highly rated. Want a round?"
Interest flickered across Jack's face. He took the controller.
"Sure. But I haven't touched this kind of game in a long time."
King's reply was polite. Casual.
"It's fine. Just for fun anyway."
Jack was utterly dominated for an entire night.
On the screen, the muscular male character Jack controlled met its end. Again. A petite magical girl—controlled one-handed by King—executed a fluid, dazzling combo that left no room for response.
What made it worse? King's other hand held a glass of iced cola. Straw in place. Occasionally, he'd take a leisurely sip.
*Slurp. *
Jack: …
A vein throbbed faintly at his temple.
(ꐦ ー ´ ´ ー)
"King." He put down the controller. Lips twitching. "Are you… this good at gaming?"
He was experiencing the exact frustration Saitama felt facing King. As a Monster, his speed and precision exceeded ordinary humans by hundreds of times. His dynamic vision. His nerve reflexes. All monstrous.
In front of King's controller grip? He moved like an elementary schooler trying to sprint in the Olympics.
"It's alright." King took another sip of cola. Dismissive. Casual. "I just won a few offline fighting game championships when I had nothing else to do. The trophies are under the table." He gestured vaguely. "Propping up the legs."
Jack: …
Invisible showing off. Most lethal kind.
He stood quietly. Rolled his neck—slightly stiff from maintaining one position too long. Then gave a charming, evil smile.
"Alright. I hope tomorrow—during special training—you can display this same level of talent."
*Pfft—! * Cough, cough, cough—!
Cola sprayed across the room. King choked, sputtered, pounded his chest. His previous masterful demeanor evaporated entirely.
No—Jack, you're serious?!
"Wait—wait a minute!" King waved frantically, trying to salvage. "I have weaknesses too! How about another round—?"
"No." Jack snorted. Walked toward the guest bedroom without looking back. "Special training starts promptly at 7 AM. Be late—even one second—and face the consequences."
He paused at the door.
"Now. I'm going to sleep."
*SLAM. *
The door closed cleanly. Sharply. Left a cold gust of wind in its wake.
King: …
( ◐ o ◑ )!
He stared at the closed door. Wiped cold sweat from his forehead.
Life is hopeless.
After half a day of interaction, he'd basically confirmed Jack wasn't a bad person. No ill will. His mood had gradually relaxed.
When he relaxed, he got carried away.
With my physique, training would definitely kill me. Should I just run away before—
*Grrr… *
His stomach roared. Protested. Earth-shatteringly.
Only then did he remember—he'd been too focused on games. From the moment they'd arrived until now: a few snacks. Some drinks. Nothing substantial. And he hadn't finished his ramen earlier either.
His energy bar—as a useless human—was hovering on zero.
No. I still shouldn't run away. I'd starve to death.
Face pale, King crawled weakly off the sofa. One hand clutching his stomach. The other supporting himself against the wall. He staggered toward the kitchen.
Instant noodles. Sustenance. Survival.
Inside the Guest Room
Jack didn't rest immediately.
He stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window. Overlooked M City's bustling night view.
High floor. Wide perspective. He could take in most of the city's glittering expanse.
Outside the window, neon lights flickered. Traffic flowed like weaving threads through the city's arteries. At night, M City revealed a completely different charm—softer, more alive, than its daytime bustle.
Jack's gaze traced the distant lights.
"King's a mobile Monster attractor, useful." His murmur was soft. "But relying only on myself? Efficiency's still too slow."
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
It's time.
Come out, my tools.
With a single thought—Megaton Split activated silently.
*Sizzle. Sizzle. Sizzle. *
Barely perceptible sounds filled the room. Cell tissue stretching. Reorganizing. Multiplying.
From behind Jack's main body, shadows peeled away. Expanded. Took form.
Ten figures—identical to Jack in every visible way—squeezed into existence within the spacious guest room.
The clones had lively eyes. Varied postures. As soon as they materialized, they began moving—clearly possessing independent consciousness. Independent thinking.
Jack's strength had increased since last time. His cell reserves were no longer what they'd been. Naturally, his clones' strength had risen accordingly.
One clone stretched exaggeratedly—limbs extending, cracking like popping beans. Pure comfort.
Another stood with arms crossed, leaning coolly against the wall. Scrutinizing the main body with an appraising gaze.
A third—curious as a baby—poked the floor-to-ceiling window with one finger. Then reached out to touch the soft bed.
"Oh? Version update?" The stretching clone flexed his wrists, feeling the power within. His eyebrows rose. "Physical quality's pretty good this time!"
He glanced at the others.
"Much stronger than those defective products from the last split."
The leaning clone snorted. "This guy—the main body—finally understands 'you get what you pay for.'"
"Hmph." Another clone pushed off from the wall, crossing his arms. Colder demeanor. Sharper tone. "Finally willing to let us out for fresh air. Being cooped up every day—my bones are practically rusting. Keep it up, and I'll want to rebel."
A fourth clone stepped forward. Fanatical expression. Fists clenched, cracking audibly. His eyes burned with barely contained chaos.
"Boss! Who are we going after this time? Your humble servants will go through fire and water! Scatter their ashes! Whatever it takes!"
Jack's main body rubbed his temples.
A room full of rebellious individuals. Different personalities. Same essence. Same face. All talking at once.
His tone was helpless.
"…You guys." A pause. "Is it interesting to talk to yourselves the moment you come out?"