"I said I'm not bald!!!" Saitama roared—then winced. "Uh… maybe I hit a bit too hard…"
He had. One careless punch had reduced Wolverine's upper body to a storm of shredded meat. Picking the pieces back up would be… tedious. But beating Wolverine that way? Naive.
This version had been enhanced by Apocalypse—and his native regeneration was obscene. Scattered bone and flesh zipped back together; in mere seconds, Wolverine stood whole again.
He bellowed, thrilled. "Amazing—truly amazing! To hurt me that much… I admit you can stand against—"
Boom!
His body exploded again.
Saitama sighed. "So you're tougher than Boros in one way—you last longer."
He'd read the guy. Strong, weird centaur build, ridiculous self-healing. But compared to Boros? Still a tier down. Boros had boasted an annihilation cannon that could wipe the planet. This Wolverine…
Wait.
The horse-half skidded back, opening distance fast. Only once he'd carved out a safety buffer did Wolverine reconstitute his torso again. He grinned.
"I'll grant it—you outmuscle me. Now see my true specialty!"
System, show info.
[Name] Logan Howlett
[Codename] Wolverine – Future Four Horseman
[Stats] Int 2 (normal), Strength 7 (incalculable), Speed 6 (lightspeed), Durability 7 (near-immortal), Energy Projection 1 (none), Combat Skill 7 (master of all forms)
[Special]
Hyper Regeneration: As long as 1% of tissue remains, full recovery is possible; speed scales with remaining mass.
Furious Gallop: Acceleration compounds over distance; with a long enough run-up, can surpass lightspeed.
Energy Shock: The fused Apocalypse war-steed can emit a linear energy blast capable of cleaving a continental plate.
"You're going to fire the energy shock?" Saitama frowned.
"Hahaha! So you noticed. It doesn't matter—once I'm set, it's already over!"
Wolverine roared. The war-steed reared; energy swelled like a newborn sun at its maw.
"Super Cross-Boundary Shockwave… fire!"
Saitama shook his head, raised his fist high, then chopped it down.
"If that's how it is—Logan, goodbye. I can't let you wreck this world. Serious Hammer!"
The war-steed's beam lanced out—only to be drowned a heartbeat later by an even vaster force dropping from the diagonal sky.
Saitama's fist.
From the very start, the outcome had been set.
Boom.
The shock front raced out from Paris, rolling across France—no, across the whole European plate.
Inside the ad-hoc "Paris Mutant Task Force," shouts stacked over one another. "This must be a joke! Impossible—our instruments—!"
Most scholars in the room opted for denial. The sensors had to be broken. What else could explain the readout?
According to the array, Europe—relative to sea level—had sunk fifteen centimeters.
Yes. A fifteen-centimeter drop relative to mean sea level.
Which translated to a sudden loss of twenty-one percent of land area across the continent.
Compared to that, near-magnitude-7 tremors rattling several cities, nationwide blackouts, downed grids, and burst dams were… minor symptoms. What in heaven's name had just happened?
The satellites showed only three stills.
"This is the sequence," said the French military lead, voice dry as dust.
Slide one: Wolverine's steed, moments from unleashing the shockwave—whatever it was, surely weaker than whatever had erased Paris.
Slide two: the bald man lifting his hand.
Slide three: the bald man chopping down—and the opposing mutant…
Vaporized.
Timestamps pinned every image. All of it had happened inside ten milliseconds. The time the bald man's fist cut down matched the instant the European plate heaved.
"I think," the French commander said with a wan smile, "we need to change our approach."
A dozen officers stared. Five minutes ago, he'd been breathing fire—demanding the perpetrator pay. He'd practically cheered when the coalition mechanized units rolled out.
Now? Now his mouth just tasted bitter.
(End of Chapter)
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