Tempest Empire PSA — "Say NO" Campaign (Satria Edition)
[Camera fades in. Heroic music swells.]
A Satria clone stands proudly in front of the Tempest Empire banner, smiling like a politician who hasn't slept in four days.
"Hello! I'm Satria—your easy-going, definitely responsible, absolutely reliable leader."
He gives a thumbs-up.
It's awkward. Too awkward.
"Did you know that drugs, cigarettes, and forbidden-magic power-up scams can cause nationwide damage? I've seen them destroy lives outside our Country, and I refuse to let that happen to Tempest citizens."
He points dramatically at the crystal recording orb.
"But you don't need superpowers to fight back!"
[Heroic music intensifies]
"Because your ultimate ability… is to say NO!"
He steps forward, voice solemn like a hero making his last stand.
"So if anyone offers you drugs, dangerous shortcuts to power, or 'mysterious evolution boosters'… tell them the Golden Emperor said:
'That crap isn't cool, and what you're offering is bullshit. Anyone who takes it is a loser.'"
He places his hand over his heart.
"Remember… real heroes don't take shortcuts."
[Heroic music ends abruptly.]
Behind the Scenes, Satria already rubbing his temples.
"…Hello, I'm Satria the Golden—no, no, I'm f*cking done. I am NOT suited for this. Everyone already knows who I am, why do I have to introduce myself like a confused NPC?!"
He throws the cue card into the air.
"But the cool thing to do is just say "NO" Damn... I sound like a jackass. Who approved this script?"
A production crew member raises his hand timidly.
"U-Uh… the Empress and Madam Red did."
"…Get Rimuru on the phone. I'm not saying this bullshit."
A soft, dangerous chuckle is heard behind him.
Great Red, smiling like the last boss in game and a wife ready to unleash dragonic punishment, wraps her tail around his waist.
"Oh my. You must, dear husband~. Unless you really want to see Rimuru's bad side again?"
Satria pales.
"…Why do women become ten times more terrifying after marriage? Someone explain this phenomenon. I'm sure all men watching agree."
Crom coughs nervously.
"Ehm… should we, uh… go to the top of the schedule first?"
Great Red drags her claws lightly along Satria's shoulder.
"Finish the PSA, Satria~."
Sighing like a man walking to the gallows, he picks up the next cue card.
"…If taking cigarettes and shortcuts is uncool… then I must be the most uncool motherfucker on the planet, Hahaha, Fuck you, Red" He laughs dryly. At least he can commit to the bit. "Lucky me—I don't take drugs. What a wonderful example of citizenship I am."
A cameraman clears his throat.
"Sir Emperor… we, uh… need one more take."
Satria opens a can of Groovy Root Beer he definitely wasn't holding a second ago.
"Nope."
He chugs it in one go.
"We really need just one—"
"Nope. That's a wrap. Everyone go home. Have a wonderful day."
He teleports out of the studio.
Silence.
Great Red's eye twitches, her killing intent leaking like a broken dam.

"…What should we do with him later, I wonder~?"
Every crew member silently prays for Satria's survival.
•
Back to One-Punch Man World
Evil Natural Water rose like a living tsunami, its body swirling with murderous intent. The air trembled with the pressure of its expanding mass, vast enough to drown the district in a single wave.
Artoria stepped forward, armor shining with faint gold.
Artoria placed a firm gauntlet on Morgan's shoulder.
Her eyes shone—not cold, but filled with a king's resolve.
"Stand back. I shall ensure it never reaches the sea."
Morgan narrowed her eyes.
"It isn't just liquid… it is a living current. It thinks. If the creature merges with the ocean, even your blade may not save this continent."
Artoria nodded without hesitation.
"Then I shall sever the sea itself."
Evil Natural Water pulsed—BOOM!
Hundreds of high-pressure bullets fired at hypersonic speed, tearing through buildings and carving holes into the landscape.
Artoria inhaled deeply.
Wind exploded.
"—Invisible Air. Full Release!"
A roaring cyclone blasted outward, shredding the bullets mid-air.
Shockwaves split the surrounding concrete like fragile glass.
Yet the creature merely reformed—larger, sharper, deadlier.
Morgan crossed her arms.
"It adapts by the second. Be careful—"
The warning came too late.
Evil Natural Water surged into a massive cannon, firing a torrent of compressed water with the force of a high-yield kinetic artillery shell.
Artoria didn't dodge.
She planted her feet, cloak whipping violently in the shockwave.
Her voice dropped low.
Calm.
Centered.
"So be it. Overwhelming force, then."
Her sword glowed—
not with prana,
but with something else.

Morgan's eyes narrowed in disbelief.
"…That is not Excalibur's light."
She crossed her arms, smirking.
"And when," she asked teasingly, "did you learn another trick? I thought you were a one-move pony."
Artoria's eyebrow twitched. She hissed under her breath:
"I will let that pass… for now."
Morgan leaned closer. "You're blushing. Did he teach you something?"
Artoria turned bright red for 0.3 seconds—then inhaled, schooling her face back to composure.
"Let's just say… I borrowed power from a great warrior. A warrior whose mission was to bring new hope to a galaxy drowning in war."
Morgan blinked. Then snorted.
"New hope to a galaxy? You couldn't even stop internal rebellions in Camelot."
Artoria sighed patiently.
"What matters is learning from one's mistakes…
and choosing a better future."
Morgan smirked again.
"You've certainly become warmer. Is that also because of him?"
Artoria ignored her—but her flushed ears told the truth.
Above them, Evil Natural Water roared, its entire mass turning into a spiraling death vortex.
Artoria raised her sword.
The air stilled.
A pressure—calm and absolute—spread around her like a gentle tide turning into a rising storm.
The Force answered her call.
Her stance shifted—fluid, controlled.
Her breath slowed—becoming one with the battlefield.
She thrust her hand forward.
An invisible wall of power materialized—
The water cannon slammed into it—
KRAAAAAAASH!
But the attack bent around her, shaped, redirected, as the Force barrier warped its trajectory.
For the first time, Evil Natural Water recoiled.
Artoria swept her hand upward.
The water that formed ENW began to writhe—
pulled by an unseen, irresistible gravity.
Morgan's eyes widened.
"You're controlling its entire body…?!"
The monster flailed, but the Force tether dragged it upward like prey caught in a giant invisible hand.
Artoria leaped—using wind to propel her body
and the Force to guide her momentum.
She soared into the sky—cape fluttering like a banner of justice.
Her blade shone—
wind peeled away—
revealing the true radiant gold of Excalibur.
But layered atop the holy light was a second aura:
A bright, balanced, shimmering white-blue energy.
The Force.
Artoria raised the blade overhead.
Artoria: "EXCALIBUR: FORCE ASCENDANT!"
She swung downward.
A beam of pure golden radiance
combined with swirling cosmic white-blue Force energy
descended like a holy meteor.
It didn't cut water.
It overwhelmed its will.
The monster screamed—
its consciousness destabilizing—
its structure turning chaotic.
The blast vaporized its core.
The force pressure crushed its attempts to reform.
The holy light purified any trace of malice left
By the time the light faded—
Evil Natural Water was gone.
Not a drop remained.
Artoria landed smoothly, breathing controlled, calm like a Jedi Master.
Morgan approached, expression unreadable.
"…Fine. I admit it."
Artoria blinked. "Admit what?"
Morgan flicked her hair, turning away.
"That was impressive—Also, extremely attractive."
Artoria sputtered. "M-Morgan!"
Morgan smirked viciously.
"Relax, I'm just joking. But you really proved to me you become a better person than before. I bet your minion in the round table will cry when they see how much you grow now."
Artoria turned red again.
•
Golden Sperm was mid-scream, kicking and punching at dozens of Satria afterimages—each flickering with trails of violet-gold lightning, each one laughing, taunting, or simply existing to ruin his pride.
"STOP RUNNING AROUND AND FACE ME, YOU BASTARD!!!"
Satria leaned casually against a broken boulder, arms folded like he was waiting for a bus.
One afterimage materialized beside Golden Sperm and poked his cheek.
"Oi. Right here."
Another flicked him on the forehead.
Another kicked his shin.
Another delivered a shameless slap to his backside.
Golden Sperm's eye twitched so violently it looked like it might fall off. "YOU—YOU DARE MOCK PERFECTION?!"
Satria simply raised a brow.
"Relax, Goldie. You're too slow. Even my grandma moves faster."
Golden Sperm snapped. "I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR GRANDMA!"
But Satria's smirk faded—not from the insult. His eyes narrowed, head turning toward Garou's battlefield.
Garou stood over Bang and Bomb, their master–disciple moment ending in collapse.
Time didn't slow—it obeyed him.
Lightning spiraled around his feet.
Space cracked.
"…I'll be right back."
BOOOOM.
A violent sonic boom devoured the ground as he disappeared, leaving only a smoking crater where he had stood.
Golden Sperm stared blankly.
"…He left?"
He blinked once.
"Just like that? In the middle of our duel?!"
The silence stabbed deeper than any insult.
Then—
His teeth bared.
His aura trembled with humiliation.
"No more games… No more humiliation… NO MORE RUNNING!!!"
The Fusion
Golden Sperm's body rippled as if boiling from the inside—cells vibrating at a frequency that made the air distort.
Across the destroyed city, every Black Sperm clone—scattered in sewers, tunnels, rubble, hiding in cracks—froze at the same moment.
A primal instinct surged.
Fear. Need. Rage.
Then—
FWOOOOOOOOOSH!!!
Thousands of Black Sperm units launched themselves toward him like living bullets, merging into his body with wet, rapid pops—one after another.
Golden Sperm arched back as raw energy overflowed from his pores, light bursting through cracks in his skin.
The ground trembled.
The air shook.
Then—
A blinding explosion of white-gold radiance.
When the light settled…
He stood transformed.
Polished. blinding. transcendent.
Platinum Sperm.
A being refined to a divine sheen, every inch of him radiating impossible arrogance.

His expression twisted—equal parts fury and a smile trying to escape.
"S!!!" he roared, voice vibrating the ruins.
"You wanted a challenge?!
You WILL face me.
I'll ascend beyond perfection—
IF I MUST!!"
The battlefield trembled beneath his declaration.
A thunderclap announced Satria's arrival.
He landed right between Garou and Bang—dust exploding outward, cracks spiderwebbing beneath his feet. The other heroes nearby—most already floored, unconscious, or piled up from earlier "rescue attempts"—could only groan in acknowledgement.
Garou's eyes widened. "You—!"
Satria sighed dramatically, waving a hand like a disappointed uncle.
"Man… you're taking this whole puberty arc way too seriously. This is not how you behave toward your parents. Kids these days."
Garou twitched.
Bang coughed.
Satria crouched beside Bang, medical precision showing in his hands. He checked pulse, breathing, bones, and pupils in less than two seconds—like a surgeon examining a patient during halftime.
Then he whistled.
"Nah, you'll be fine in a few days, old man. Looks like your beloved student just gave you a love tap. Wahahahaha!"
Bang clicked his tongue. "Love—?! That was no—"
Garou cut him off, shouting, "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! I let him LIVE so he can witness how far I evolve then watch as I change this corrupt world once I become… Absolute Evil!"
Satria clapped sarcastically.
"Yeah, yeah, yada yada, future villain speech number 47. But tell me... You're not scared of the consequences?"
Garou frowned. "Consequences??"
Satria grinned.
He pulled out his phone.
The screen was old, scratched, battery icon blinking red. The folder name read:
『 Anak Durhaka dikutuk jadi ikan pari 』
(Rebellious Child Cursed into Stingray)
He tapped the video.
A meme played—dramatic Indonesian folklore narration, over-the-top music, and a stingray doing goofy animations as a metaphor for "anak durhaka."
Satria even dubbed it into Japanese.
"Here. Watch this deeply," Satria said, solemnly. "This is sacred knowledge from my homeland."
Garou stared at the screen.
"…What?"
The stingray spun.
A narrator shouted.
Moral lesson music played.
Text flashed: "RESPECT YOUR PARENTS OR BECOME SEAFOOD."
Garou's eyebrow twitched…
then BOTH eyebrows twitched.
He slapped the phone out of Satria's hand.
"DON'T SHOW ME THAT NONSENSE!!"
Satria gasped dramatically. "Wat de fuq? Wat de fuq?! What's your problem, man? You wanna turn into that THAT badly?!"
Garou snapped back, "If you believe that crap, you're dumber than I thought!"
Satria held his chest like he'd been shot. "Tch. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Before Garou could throw hands—
rumble…
The ground cracked open behind them.
A bald head popped out of the rubble like a confused gopher.
"Oh. We finally found the exit."
To be continued...