Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Blades carved madly through the air. In a blink, the entire restaurant was sliced into scraps. Luckily the bystanders had already cleared out; only Fubuki and the others remained. The slashes were aimed mainly at Saitama and barely endangered anyone else.
"I'm Royal Ripper! I can shred steel into powder—be a good boy and die in my hands!"
Royal Ripper cackled, whirling like a hurricane and carving the shop to ribbons.
A full minute later he finally stopped, staring dumbly at the two people still standing there.
Fubuki and Garou.
Both of them just looked at him like he was an idiot, not even bothering to move.
"What is going on…?"
Royal Ripper blinked.
"Behind you."
Garou pointed. The killer turned his head like a wind-up doll—only to see Saitama standing at his back, wearing the expression of a man watching a street show.
"Are you done? I nearly got hurt. So scary," Saitama murmured.
Seeing that "terrified" face, Royal Ripper was speechless.
Damn it! His frenzy should have killed anything in range instantly, but Saitama didn't have a scratch. Was this a joke? The whole "attack" felt like one big self-own. A nameless dread crept up from his gut; his eyelid twitched.
"Then I'll start attacking now."
Saitama lifted his fist. Red glove clenched. A terrible pressure rolled out.
"This feeling—?!"
Royal Ripper felt like some primordial beast had locked onto him. His scalp prickled and went numb.
Grip. Draw back.
Futsuu Punch (Normal Punch).
To a martial arts grandmaster like Garou, the swing was full of openings—hundreds of ways to counter. And yet the feeling from that punch was… you couldn't stop it.
Garou's heart lurched.
Royal Ripper just stared at the fist coming for his face.
Boom—
A storm of force swept through. In his terrified eyes, Royal Ripper turned to dust—no scream, no resistance, nothing.
Within ten meters of Saitama's fist, everything simply ceased to be. Only powder remained.
"Th-this… a Normal Punch?"
Fubuki, who knew Saitama best, widened her eyes at the perfectly erased circle.
In her impression, even a "normal" punch could level a block nearly a hundred meters long. But here, Saitama had confined the destruction to a perfect ten-meter ring.
Absolute control of power.
It was something he'd mastered after his time in the Marvel main world.
To him, a Demon-level enemy was truly too weak. Years ago even a peak Demon like Vaccine Man—practically stepping into Dragon-level—was one-punched to oblivion. And now?
Saitama was stronger than ever.
"So strong… he got even stronger," Garou thought, shaken. He'd seen Saitama's power before—never this obscene. A Demon-level with no chance to fight back? Come on.
"Careful, pressure!"
Garou barked a warning.
The ground heaved—something bulged and tunneled fast beneath their feet.
Craack!
The floor burst. A hideous, enormous tendril lunged up.
Bug God.
"I'm no idiot like Royal Ripper! I'm the god of insects! Die!"
The sneak attacker was Bug God, though he'd transformed—now a towering, crawling abomination. Unlike Royal Ripper, he went straight for an ambush. The massive tendril split wide; rows of serrated fangs lined the inside.
It swallowed Saitama whole—along with the earth under his boots.
"Hiss—he eats that too?!"
Garou gaped. Saitama—and a chunk of ground—went straight down Bug God's gullet.
"Royal Ripper's dead? Even better—this one's mine! Hahaha!"
"Oh, and I forgot to mention—inside me, even steel melts to sludge! I've eaten S-Class heroes before!"
Fangs chewed. Stinking drool dripped in ropes.
"Dead…?"
Garou eyed the swollen belly, then glanced at Fubuki. There was no worry on her face—only a hint of pitying mockery.
"Hm? Woman—don't tell me you think that baldy isn't dead yet?"
Bug God sneered at Fubuki, annoyed by that look that said he was beneath her.
"Demon-level?"
Fubuki's eyes went cold—almost sympathetic. "Worry about yourself."
"About myself? Anyone I swallow becomes my power. S-Class hero Saitama is my strength now! You're all—urgh—!!"
He didn't finish. A stabbing agony tore through his belly. His chitin swelled visibly.
Pain. Impossible pain.
The abdomen ballooned to a grotesque size—then ruptured with a thunderous bang. Bug God exploded where he stood, raining viscous green slurry and chunks of meat.
Demon-level: Bug God—dead.
Garou stood there drenched, his hair and cloak dripping, stunned into silence by the wind.
"All done. Man, the inside of that guy's stomach stinks. Didn't think he'd actually swallow me."
Saitama, likewise slimed from head to toe, wiped his face.
"Let's hurry home and shower. Next time, don't make it splatter everywhere when you take out a monster," Fubuki said, dabbing Saitama's cheek clean. She took his hand and walked off.
Garou?
He stood there, ignored—just like that.
Hey, he was a wanted criminal, okay?
No respect at all. Truly the weakest wanted man in history.
"Hey! Weren't you helping Bang catch me? What now?"
Garou called after Saitama, unwilling to let it go.
"I needed cash back then. Now… you don't seem as bad as they say. So I'm not catching you. Let's go, Fubuki."
Saitama turned and left with her.
Watching their backs vanish into the dark, Garou's feelings twisted into a knot.
Night fell. Lights bloomed across the city. On a rooftop, a man in a black cloak stood, overlooking the streets. His gaze settled at last on a row of ten shops below.
Neon flickered bright on the sign.
House of Evolution.
(End of Chapter)
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