Satan let out a low groan as he stared at the robot standing before him. Though it was roughly the same size as him—around two to three meters tall—its presence carried a grandeur that far exceeded its physical dimensions.
And in reality, that impression was justified. At times, it felt as light as a feather, yet at others, as heavy as a mountain.
Does it have the ability to manipulate weight?
Having observed countless ability users over the span of millions of years, Mr. Satan quickly discerned the power the Peacemaker possessed. But that wasn’t all—it also had a stealth ability he hadn’t noticed and an exceptional combat sense.
Though he subscribed to a policy of non-intervention, that didn’t mean he had never fought in his life. Yet here it was, a mere machine, not only standing toe-to-toe with him, a being with millions of years of combat experience, but surpassing him outright. It was almost impossible to believe this was just a robot.
“Kh—Weakening!”
Activating his ability once more, Satan threw a punch. The Peacemaker’s exterior, which had initially softened in response to his attack, hardened instantly, its armor gripping his fist in an unyielding lock. A groan escaped his lips. So, he hadn’t been mistaken. His ability didn’t work on this damned machine!
No, to be precise, it did work—but it failed to reach the very core of its existence. It was as if the machine was constantly receiving power from some unseen thread, tethered to something beyond.
This isn’t just simple remote energy transmission... Then what the hell is it?
Satan pondered for a moment before his overwhelming sense of lethargy took over, and he abandoned the thought. His choice to embrace non-intervention wasn’t just philosophical—it was a byproduct of his deep-rooted laziness.
And yet, the only reason he had survived this long was because his overwhelming talent, abilities, and sheer skill allowed him to overcome even his own apathy.
“Hmph—!”
He kicked at the robot’s leg. The weakened limb stiffened almost immediately, but not without a brief delay. 0.0001 seconds. A fraction of an instant. A time frame within the span of a single heartbeat. The moment of Unyo, a level of mastery only sword saints could attain.
In that sliver of an opening, Satan successfully injected another burst of his ability. The Peacemaker’s leg shattered, throwing its balance into disarray. Wasting no time, he followed up with an identical strike to its head. Even for a Guardian, whose body had long surpassed human limitations, this was a feat that left cold sweat trickling down his back.
“Hah... Hah...!”
“Oh, not bad.”
“...Not bad?”
Satan cast a dubious glance at Ares, who was lounging on the ground, watching the fight with a carefree expression. That damn robot he had bragged about so much—sure, it was impressive for something made by humans, but in the end, he had managed to defeat it. The fact that Mr. Powerful and Mr. Rays had fallen to something like this was a bit baffling, but regardless...
“This is the end for you guys. You should have just joined me when you had the chance—”
[Hostile biological entity detected.]
[Neutralizing target.]
[Combat data analysis in progress... Complete.]
And in that instant—
Three more Peacemakers cut through space and revealed themselves.
Satan’s face stiffened in disbelief as he took in the sight.
“...Wait, what the hell.”
The Peacemaker was Earth’s most advanced tactical weapon, but at the end of the day, it was still a standardized military unit.
In other words, it was mass-produced.
After all, what kind of lunatic would use a one-of-a-kind weapon as a primary military asset?
As he stood before the three newly arrived machines, Satan slowly raised both hands. The Guardian’s genetic imprint, which dictated the instinctual duty to protect humanity, flared within him—but he shoved it down without hesitation.
No command could override the instinct to survive.
When a blade is pressed against one’s throat, no creature remains excited. Even the Guardian’s directive to protect humanity, which took precedence over reproduction, could not take precedence over life itself.
“...Ah—Agh! I surrender! I surrender, damn it, you tin-can bastards!”
[Subduing target.]
[Sturdy entity detected.]
[Increasing output.]
As the Peacemakers proceeded to collectively beat him down and restrain him by force, Satan finally managed to surrender—only after every bone in his body had been broken and his face had swollen like a steamed bun.
-******
"Hmm... And who is this supposed to be?"
"Mr. Satan. One of the Four Knights."
"Doesn't look like him at all..."
"What? Look like who?"
"Never mind. Just something that came to mind."
I poured a potion over Satan's swollen, beaten face. Slowly, the puffed-up mess settled into something more recognizable—a face that wouldn’t look out of place on a TV screen. Handsome, even.
Still doesn’t look like him...
Well, just because someone shares a name doesn’t guarantee they’re the same person. With that thought, I observed Satan. His eyes kept darting around, scanning every inch of the lab.
Is this place really that fascinating to him?
Then again, for a primitive being millions of years old, this might as well be magic.
"Why did you come here?"
"...Because of the weapon you made. The nuclear bomb."
"The nuclear bomb?"
"To be honest—I didn’t want to come, but that bastard Mr. Clear wouldn’t stop hounding me."
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The moment I heard that name, my expression shifted. There was no immediate danger of an attack, but just to be safe, I ran another diagnostic check on the equipment.
Everything's working fine.
Confirming that the anti-Mr. Clear systems were operational, I turned back to Satan.
"For someone sent here under pressure, you sure gave up easily."
"That’s because, unlike those two, I wasn’t given an order. I was... triggered."
"Triggered... Ah, I see. You mean the genetic imprint."
"Oh... A human actually knows about that? How’d you figure it out?"
Satan seemed genuinely surprised that I was aware of the genetic conditioning embedded in the Guardians’ bodies. If he had a functioning brain, it wouldn't have been that hard to deduce.
This brief conversation had already revealed a lot to me.
One, Mr. Clear had likely deduced the power of my nuclear weapon.
Two, Satan either disliked thinking or was just plain bad at it.
And dealing with people like that was easy. As long as they believed something was the rational choice, they would follow it without question.
"Alright, Satan. I'll release the restrictions on you."
"Huh—seriously? I mean, I get it, but I’m still technically a prisoner. Feels weird to get something after losing a fight."
"Don’t worry. I’ll be taking as much as I can from you in return."
"...I’d rather not end up like those two."
"I’ll let you keep your body."
Look at that—Satan showed some caution, but he wasn’t outright rejecting the offer. He would keep doubting and watching me carefully, but he wouldn’t betray me outright either.
Considering that Absolute Authority—the ability that controlled Ares and Athena—couldn’t be used just anywhere and had to be activated in close proximity, there was no chance he would suddenly have a change of heart and attack me.
"But this might be dangerous. You alright with that?"
"As long as it doesn’t kill me, sure."
"It might kill you."
"Uh... Hmm. That’s a little concerning."
"Not by my hand—by your leader’s."
"Oh—yeah, that’s fine. No way that guy’s killing me."
Satan’s casual response to the idea of dying at Mr. Clear’s hands was almost unsettling. He really didn’t seem to care. Was he hiding something?
The important part was that he was already 90% on my side. I grinned and turned to Ares and Athena.
"You two. If you three, including Satan here, fight Mr. Clear, who wins?"
"We do. Are you joking?"
"Good. Then get ready."
"...What?"
"We’re going to fight him, so get prepared."
Ares tilted his head, clearly confused.
"Wait, hold on. Fight him? You don’t even know where he is."
"I don’t."
"...You’re not just messing with me, are you? What’s your plan?"
"I’m going to make him come to us."
I was certain that Mr. Clear was watching this very moment. I had no idea how, but he had definitely seen Satan fight Evilus and get captured.
And now, if I—the most probable developer of the nuclear bomb—took Satan and left the city, heading toward an isolated research facility?
There was no way Mr. Clear wouldn’t take the bait.
Even if he knew it was a trap, he wouldn’t be able to ignore it.
And in the process, my life wouldn’t even be in danger.
If it were still under research, that’d be one thing, but with a completed nuclear weapon—he’d want to erase it entirely.
Even a century ago, nuclear weapons had been technologically feasible. The only reason they were never completed was because every scientist who worked on them had been assassinated. That meant that from a purely technological standpoint, nuclear weapons had been possible for over a hundred years.
Mr. Clear wouldn’t be able to kill me until he made sure I couldn’t release the schematics.
That was my safety net.
And that, Mr. Clear, is your bait.
With that, I set off with the three of them, heading beyond the city to the vast desert.
To a battlefield I had deliberately left empty—my trap.