A whiplash roundhouse sliced the air. The sonic crack was sharp enough to sting. Mumen Rider crossed his forearms and blocked—still got blasted back several meters, boots carving tracks across the floor.
"As expected of S-Class—what power," Mumen Rider squinted, gauging.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire stitched the room. Zombie Man had no intention of trading with a mere C-Class—muzzle flaring, he poured rounds while Mumen Rider scrambled over tables and walls, narrowly slipping each burst.
"Fast…" Zombie Man frowned. The speed matched an A-Class at peak—more or less what the Association once pegged Mumen Rider at. But to an S-Class like him? Still slow.
Pressing with gunfire, he herded Mumen Rider to a dead corner, then drove a heel straight into the rider's gut. The impact launched Mumen Rider into a wall—concrete caved in around him, a crater spidering outward.
"You've lost," Zombie Man said flatly. A-versus-S was a gulf; that kick alone should've ended resistance.
Mumen Rider slumped in the rubble—motionless… then planted his palms and stood.
"The fight's only starting. I don't go down that easy."
Zombie Man's eyes narrowed. For a moment he thought he saw faint red light thread across the rider's torn skin—then vanish.
"My turn."
Mumen Rider's voice dropped. He blurred—several times faster than before. Zombie Man's eyelid twitched.
So that wasn't his limit…
Their fists crashed. Force rippled up Zombie Man's arm.
"Tch—how is his strength this high?"
For someone branded "the weakest," the raw weight behind Mumen Rider's punches now felt no worse than certain S-Class brutes—Sexy Prisoner came to mind. In a blink, offense flipped to parity: fists, knees, sweeps, gun-butts and counters thundered through the shop. Minutes piled into thirty. Only then did the two ease apart for air.
Around them, C- and D-Class heroes watched with bloodshot intensity, nobody daring to speak.
Mumen Rider was drenched in blood, laced with gashes; a few ribs jutted wrong beneath his skin.
Zombie Man didn't look much prettier—split lip, swollen cheek, welted arms.
"You're strong, Mumen Rider," Zombie Man admitted at last, gaze edged now with respect. The man fought like a fanatic, taking damage to deal damage—trading life for inches.
But unfortunately for him…
Zombie Man's trademark wasn't offense—it was not dying.
The cuts on his body knitted shut at visible speed.
"Healing already?!"
"So that's S-Class Zombie Man…"
"Yeah—people say you can cut him in half and he still walks."
In seconds, his body was whole again—pressure rising back toward its peak. Maddening. Even other S-Class heroes hated getting stuck in wars of attrition with him.
"Not necessarily," Mumen Rider rasped. Blood dripped down his arm, breath ragged—but eyes steady as steel.
Once, he'd been that weak. Since Saitama saved him, he'd sworn—never again. If it cost his life, so be it.
He got lucky. He got stronger. A lot stronger.
Heat shimmered off his body. Hairline cracks of dull red traced under his skin; the air's temperature leapt. He seized Zombie Man's pistol hand.
Sssss—white vapor curled as metal sizzled. The forged frame of the handgun began to slump, melting.
Pain spiked—Zombie Man yanked free with a hiss. He could regenerate. He couldn't switch off pain.
"What… is that?" His eyes flared. It looked like regeneration—but with heat? Greater than his own? How?
Boom—
Mumen Rider's blazing fist punched clean through Zombie Man's abdomen. The heat sent spasms across his frame; the air smelled faintly of char.
"Sorry—I'm not the old Mumen Rider. I'm the head of security for Saitama-sama's House of Evolution now."
He withdrew his fist. The hole in Zombie Man's torso closed almost immediately—grisly, effective, infuriating.
"If you want to keep going, I don't mind," Mumen Rider said, calm returning as the adrenaline bled off. With his own repair rate kicked in—and that desperate-bloodline heat awakened—the gap wasn't so simple anymore. Over time? Who knew.
Silence. Zombie Man looked past him to Dr. Genus.
"As you saw," Genus said evenly, "this is the newest TX gene-refinement agent that Banner and I developed. Besides Mumen Rider, several C-Class heroes have received it. Their conversions aren't as perfect as his, but they're solid."
The words landed like thunder in Zombie Man's mind.
So… gene-augmented humans—across the board?
It made sense. He'd been one of Genus's experiments himself. Years had passed; of course the tech had advanced. He glanced at Banner and gave a dry, wry smile.
He'd once filed "Banner" under "green brute who smashes." Who knew the big guy was also elbow-deep in research?
And then there was the other shock:
House of Evolution… belonged to Saitama?
"You—Dr. Genus, Banner, Mumen Rider… all of you work for Saitama?" Zombie Man muttered. He knew how arrogant Genus had been—a pure researcher who sneered at everything but science. That man—recruited? Absurd.
"Yes," Banner said with a small smile. "Interested in joining?"
Around them, the heroes nodded—earnest, hopeful.
"Zombie Man—No. 66," Genus added softly, "you were once my finest success. I have far better tech now. If you're willing, I'd be happy to introduce you to Saitama-sama."
The room waited.
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!] [[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]