Angel's mouth opened slightly, and then he lunged straight for Saitama. His speed was truly frightening. After Apocalypse's modification, he'd reached nearly supersonic levels.
He circled Saitama at a mad sprint. Saitama watched him with a helpless look. Angel felt a chill—this guy's eyes were actually tracking his speed.
What kind of monster is this?
If speed couldn't confuse him, then he'd just have to hit him head-on.
His metal wings snapped once and he rocketed upward, climbing until the air thinned to near-vacuum. Then—at his absolute top speed—he stooped like a meteor toward Saitama.
"Angel Extreme Impact!"
Angel roared. He'd been a near alpha-level mutant even before; after becoming Apocalypse's Archangel, he was top of the alpha class. His edge was overwhelming acceleration coupled with a reinforced body.
He didn't believe Saitama could match his speed or his power.
Right as his confidence peaked, Saitama shook his head and planted his feet.
"Then let's do this—Normal Punch."
Faced with the man falling like a star, Saitama didn't even bother to count down. A Normal Punch was the greatest respect he could offer.
A vast shock of force collided high above. Magneto's eyes went wide. The fellow Four Horseman, Angel, was blasted back into the sky—and his wings…
They shattered.
Shards of steel feathers fanned out in a glittering spray. Angel himself was punched two thousand meters into the air, then traced a parabolic arc and plummeted toward the ground.
A complete defeat.
Yes—complete. He couldn't even endure Saitama's Normal Punch.
Saitama sighed. "So, Magneto, you want to try next?"
Honestly, he was getting annoyed. People in this world didn't listen. Even when you were helping them, they just had to make trouble.
"Magneto! Stand down!"
A voice rang from the clouds.
"Storm, what are you doing?" Magneto frowned.
"Destroy Paris," the woman's voice replied.
Magneto's face shifted through several colors. He knew exactly what that meant. If Paris was destroyed… Professor X would…
Among Apocalypse's Four Horsemen, Storm's power was the greatest. She had likely surpassed alpha level and entered omega.
"That's right," Storm said, her tone empty, robotic. "If we fail to capture Professor X and fail our mission, what do you think will happen?"
Magneto's fists clenched. His outline blurred—and vanished into the air, teleporting away once more.
The others were left with complicated expressions.
Storm had judged correctly: with Saitama here, they weren't taking Professor X. So she'd simply prioritize Apocalypse's first order—destroy Paris.
As for the other order—exterminate half of humans and mutants—she could always get to that later. Worst case, they'd do it by hand.
"Then, Paris it is."
Lightning spilled from the cloud deck—hundreds, perhaps thousands of bolts at once.
Storm executed Apocalypse's command to the letter. Destroy Paris—and the surrounding villages as well.
She even "took special care" of Saitama: several especially massive pillars of lightning speared for his position. Watching them descend, Saitama raised a middle finger at the sky—and threw a punch straight up.
"In that case, I'll get a little serious—Maji Naguri (Serious Punch)!"
Under that single punch, the world-scorching lightning that should have turned square kilometers to ash suddenly looked feeble. The bolts didn't strike ground. They recoiled, racing back into the heavens even faster than they'd fallen.
Storm's eyes flew wide—and then the reverse-driven lightning swallowed her whole.
It looked like the end of days. Saitama lowered his fist. Even in her "super-storm" state, Storm could at best survive a Serious Punch. Continue fighting? No chance.
And so it proved. Her pupils washed white; the thunder, packed with brutal force, had rattled her brain blank. She lost all focus and dropped even faster toward the ground—until a figure slipped in and caught her.
Psylocke.
Her face was ashen. She couldn't understand Saitama's power at all. One simple punch, and the kinetic fallout was this insane—what kind of monster was he?
Storm blinked weakly. "Psylocke… de… destroy… Paris…"
"Paris is already done. Rest easy," Psylocke whispered.
In fact, the moment those first bolts fell, Paris ceased to exist. Over ninety-five percent of the city turned to scorched earth in an instant. As for its people, more than eighty percent died on the spot. By any measure, Paris had been erased from the map.
(End of Chapter)
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