Sweet Mask's expression didn't change. He wouldn't budge on what he believed.
However, in the next mont, a voice echoed in his ear.
"Sweet Mask, you wouldn't want the fact that you are actually a 'monster' to get out, would you?"
Sweet Mask trembled violently, his heart filled with terror. This was his biggest secret, his deepest nightmare, now discovered.
He stood frozen, lips quivering, unable to utter a word.
Setsuna, seeing his lost and dejected state, smiled faintly. He ignored him and walked straight past him into the registration room.
The three Tank Topper Army's mbers followed, chests out, not forgetting to cast disdainful glances at Sweet Mask as they passed.
The Heroes in line, seeing that even Sweet Mask was left speechless and frozen by Hades's words, their morale soared even higher.
"Long live Hades-sama!"
"Well said!"
"Let's go register!"
The crowd cheered, like an army victorious in battle, marching triumphantly toward the registration point, looking at Setsuna's retreating figure with even greater awe.
Watching this all unfold from the outskirts, Genos and Fubuki felt only the most bizarre absurdity. The demon king who would destroy the world was on the verge of becoming the Heroes' leader.
...
Around the corner of the corridor outside the registration hall, the lighting was dim.
Fubuki and Genos were about to slip away from this place of trouble when a voice ca from behind that made their hearts leap.
"You two, please wait."
Setsuna's voice remained gentle, but it acted like an invisible rope, instantly binding them in place.
Fubuki's body stiffened, her fingertips cold.
She slowly turned to face the approaching figure, saying in terror, "We had no intention of receiving the inheritance to fight you!"
Setsuna seed slightly taken aback, then chuckled softly. "I'm not concerned about that so-called inheritance."
Fubuki breathed a sigh of relief, but at the sa ti, a wave of sorrow washed over her, 'This sliver of hope we clung to was not even considered worthy by this man.'
Genos asked in a low voice, "Then what do you want?"
Setsuna smiled slightly. "I just want to know how Saitama's training is progressing?"
Fubuki and Genos were both stunned.
Setsuna asked very amicably, "Does he need my help? For instance, I could provide him with a gravity chamber or a more efficient training environnt."
Fubuki and Genos exchanged glances, feeling only utter absurdity and chilling dread.
'This man, who had casually announced Earth's destruction in one year and whose subordinate possessed infinite energy and terrifying power...'
'Was now worried about Saitama-sensei's training speed? And offering to help?'
This was no longer simple confidence or a 'ga-like attitude'. This was blatant arrogance!
As if Saitama's growth, Earth's fate, everyone's struggles were just variables on his chessboard, to be adjusted at will.
He was even 'kindly' providing his opponent with upgrade 'tools' just to witness a more exciting match.
Genos felt his core processor humming with rage and humiliation.
His voice was icy: "I don't know what training Sensei is doing now. So, I can't answer your question."
"But I believe Sensei will definitely defeat No.17! He will save this world!"
Setsuna nodded slightly, his expression pleased. "I'm looking forward to it."
These simple words were more chilling than any threat.
As if the outco of destruction was already predetermined, and he was rely waiting for a performance to reach its climax.
Just as this suffocating silence was about to spread, a dazed figure stumbled down the corridor.
It was Sweet Mask.
His perfect, aloof mask was shattered, leaving only paleness, confusion, and deep exhaustion.
He walked straight up to Setsuna, not even noticing Fubuki and Genos beside him, and asked directly: "Why didn't you report to the Association? Why didn't you have arrested?"
The question left Fubuki and Genos confused again.
'Report? Arrest? What had he done?'
Setsuna asked calmly, "Why should I have you arrested?"
Sweet Mask's body trembled slightly, his voice filled with self-loathing. "Don't you already know I'm a monster? All monsters should die!"
Fubuki and Genos's pupils contracted sharply as they looked at Sweet Mask in shock.
'The face of the Hero Association, its most popular Hero, was actually a monster!'
Setsuna looked at Sweet Mask's self-destructive despair and smiled faintly.
"Let ask you a question. If soone looks human on the outside but has a filthy, despicable heart, betrays their comrades for profit, even willingly serves as a monster's lackey, do you consider such a person... human?"
Sweet Mask answered almost instinctively: "Of course not! That kind of scum is worse than a monster!"
"Then," Setsuna's tone shifted, remaining calm, "If soone looks like a monster on the outside but has a kind heart, upholds justice, is willing to sacrifice, and is devoted to helping others..."
"Do you consider such a person... a monster?"
Sweet Mask froze.
This simple question, like a key, forcefully unlocked the deepest, most conflicted, most self-denying part of his heart.
'Outwardly a monster... inwardly human...'
'What does that make ...?'
For so long, he had suffered, feared, and tried desperately to hide his monstrous identity, using a rigid 'Perfect Hero' standard to judge himself and others.
At its core, wasn't it a form of extre inferiority and self-hatred?
He hated being a monster, so he doubly hated all 'imperfect' Heroes, as if that could draw a line between him and his despicable side.
But this mysterious Hades, with such simple words, had stripped away the definition of 'human' and 'monster' from external form to internal essence.
"Is the heart the true asure?" Sweet Mask murmured.
He had been ugly as a child. To compensate for his external flaws, he demanded his heart be beautiful and upright, quietly doing good deeds unnoticed.
After his monsterization gave him a handso appearance, he had forgotten his inner perseverance.
"Had I unconsciously discarded my most precious asset?" The numbness in Sweet Mask's eyes faded, replaced by a sense of release.
He looked at Setsuna and bowed deeply. "Thank you! I understand!"
Watching Sweet Mask's grateful gaze and respectful deanor, Fubuki and Genos standing nearby felt their sense of absurdity and chill reach its peak.
'Another... another one...'
'Sweet Mask... that most difficult, uncompromising perfectionist...'
'Was won over by this demon king's few words? And so gratefully?'
They looked at Setsuna's profile, still calm as if he had done nothing, then at the genuine reverence in Sweet Mask's eyes.
A deeper wave of helplessness washed over them.
At this rate, this dark force behind the destruction, this 'demon king' who treated Earth's fate as a ga...
Might truly beco the Heroes' spiritual leader, maybe even their actual leader!
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