Viltrumite, Is This Strongest Chat Group in the World Fake?

Eighteen-Year-Old Viltrumite, Afraid of School Violence

"My god..."

Mechanical Head laughed in anger, the lights atop his head flashing in rainbow colors like a nightclub dance floor.

A few wisps of smoke even rose from the seams.

"You fucking smashed my window, broke into my office, injured my men, destroyed my door..."

He started singing.

"And you fucking, fucking tell me you did it to go to school?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"First of all, I didn't break the door."

After a moment of silence, under Mechanical Head's increasingly disapproving gaze, Leon set Magnetic Ninja down and said, "Fine, I admit there was probably a 0.1% chance I was in the wrong."

"Didn't you have 99.9% of the blame? You're a villain."

It was an atypical Viltrumite way of thinking. Usually, they would not even leave themselves a decimal point.

Weakness was reason enough to conquer everything.

"Should I thank you for knowing to leave yourself that 0.1% of responsibility?"

"You know I held back. At least I didn't smash your desk."

Mechanical Head glanced at the three men still gasping for breath. He knew Leon was right.

For someone with overwhelming strength, Leon had already shown plenty of consideration by underground-world standards.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, but he could only listen.

"I'm undocumented, and I need a complete set of legal identification. You're the most influential guy in Chicago, from what I heard."

Words from the strong carried weight.

It sounded irritating, but Leon's acknowledgment did ease Mechanical Head's mood somewhat.

"So you—"

"But you can't deny that this was the fastest way to achieve my goal while cutting off any thoughts you might have of using me."

"Whoever has the bigger fist is right, isn't that so? Besides, where I come from, this already counts as being gentle and considerate."

"Right?"

Leon was using his thunderous Viltrumite logic to conquer Mechanical Head's reasoning.

In some ways, this was also why General Craig admired Leon so much.

He actually knew how to reason.

Did he know how healing that was for a civil servant who had to exhaust himself with overtime just to maintain a vast territory with only fifty purebloods while keeping outsiders from discovering the truth?

At least he would have someone to share the pressure with in the future!

Faced with reason, Mechanical Head ultimately chose to compromise and summoned his men to begin arranging things for Leon.

At last, it came down to choosing a school.

Mechanical Head said, "Personally, I recommend Reginald Vel Johnson High School. Overall, it's the best one."

Leon pulled up the student roster and gave it a quick look.

He did not find Mark, but he saw Atomic Eve.

Close enough.

"Then I'll take that one."

"Fine. If you're in a hurry, you can enroll immediately."

Before leaving, seemingly sensing the frustration behind the other man's metal head, Leon comforted him. "Look on the bright side. You arranged everything for me. If I happen to make friends later, you can do whatever you want with them, right?"

"Yeah, like I'd believe that."

Mechanical Head drew out the last words disdainfully and pointed at Titan, who was still unconscious.

"The only ones with real value are family members like him—the ones who never talk and always keep things hidden."

Leon shrugged.

He walked over to the shattered window, waved, then leaned backward and fell out of sight.

After a sonic boom, a faint shock ring could be seen spreading in the distance.

Mechanical Head remained seated. Only after a long while did he tap the armrest. "Still pretending to be asleep?"

At his words, the three underlings slowly got to their feet.

"Aren't you ashamed of getting knocked down by an eighteen-year-old kid?"

"Boss, he said he was eighteen and you believed him? The fuck kind of eighteen-year-old is that?"

Infinite Paul wanted to argue further, but Mechanical Head raised a hand to cut him off.

"Forget it. Tell me what you think."

Paul was still the first to speak.

"You saw it. He took me out instantly, like chopping vegetables. Either he knows some kind of martial art or has superpowers, or his body is terrifyingly strong."

Strictly speaking, any superhuman who fought him would get the same result.

One move, instant defeat.

But taking out a whole group with a single sweep kick was different.

Being able to kick someone to death and wielding that force with the precision of a blade that could cut iron like mud were worlds apart.

Magnetic Ninja spoke next.

"Even Titan couldn't block my armor plates."

He held the plate Leon had kneaded into a ball. His expression remained unchanged, though his heart ached in secret.

"But he blocked them."

Titan looked in the direction Leon had left, strange light flickering behind his rocky armor. "We all know what that means, Mechanical Head. This city now has an unknown monster."

Mechanical Head added, "And he doesn't have a hero complex."

Today, he had finally witnessed just how troublesome someone on the level of the Global Guardians could be when they got serious.

Good lord, where am I supposed to find a superhuman with stats like that on my side?

If he refuses to live quietly, what will our villain operations become from now on...?

Red brick walls, white rooftops, national and school flags fluttering in the wind, and a lush green lawn before the yellow school bus drop-off point.

After getting himself sorted out, Leon headed to the high school.

There were no wire fences, no security checkpoints, and no police cars. This did not feel American at all.

Yet when he stepped onto the stairs, he still drew some attention.

Black, white, yellow, curry-colored, mixed.

Male, female, undefined, attack helicopter.

With a face that took the best features of mixed heritage, a height of six foot one, and a golden physique that his shirt could not conceal—

He covered most people's strike zones.

Feeling several gazes focused lower down behind him, Leon thought, All right, this is still America.

After taking a picture at the school gate, Leon opened the group chat.

The previous topic was still everyone sharing stories from their student days.

[Viltrum Honor Student: @Everyone Friends, I finally have a school to attend.]

[Yellow-Skinned Weasel, Human Not God: ?]

[Spicy Donkey Head: ?]

[Orange-Haired, Golden-Eyed Human Evil: ?]

[Kansas Farm Boy: ?] +1

[Tiger of West Middle: Brother Leon is going there to be a teacher too, right? Teacher Satoru Gojo told me that you promised to come teach at our place when you had time.]

[Orange-Haired, Golden-Eyed Human Evil: Mr. Leon still loves joking as much as ever.]

[Viltrum Honor Student: What are you talking about? I'm eighteen. If I don't go to school, what am I supposed to do? I'm determined to become the first college student in my village.]

After enjoying another wave of question marks, Leon closed the chat and headed to the principal's office to complete the paperwork.

The person whose connections he used was responsible for handling it.

Principal Winslow was a potbellied Black man with the same style of mustache as a Viltrumite.

He had initially been somewhat reluctant, but when he saw Leon's polite manner and certain Asian features, his face immediately broke into a smile.

This kid must have come to study seriously.

After accepting his class schedule and collecting his textbooks, Leon headed toward his locker.

Before long, he sensed hostility.

He opened the locker, put his things away, and began counting down in his heart.

One, two, three—bang!

A fist slammed into the locker beside him.

A shadow loomed over him, along with cheap cologne and barely concealed body odor.

Come on, actual bullying? Whose script did I get?

Leon found it absurd.

Oh, dear Commander Nolan, the infiltration mission is proceeding very smoothly. I have now infiltrated the local high school and am about to become one with my classmates.

Pray for him. Wish him luck.

Where Are You, Mark?

Leon glanced at the owner of the arm.

Black, slightly taller than him, wearing a team jersey.

A football player. A typical American jock bully.

The kind built like a coffin hauled by nine dragons.

The veins on his arm throbbed. Leon was curious whether a hand chop would make him spray more blood or more drugs.

The guy was probably upset because his girlfriend had glanced at Leon, and his brain—soaked in drugs and shaken thoroughly by impacts—was now kicking into gear.

Then those thick lips spoke.

"Watch it, Ching Chong~ The next punch is going right on that pretty little face of yours. Stay away from my girl."

There was racism too? Wasn't this supposed to be a diverse and inclusive shonen manga?