Feeling the touch on her head, Tornado froze; something crystal-clear slid down her cheek.
Staring at the figure etched deep in her memory, she instinctively reached out, trying to catch that fading silhouette.
Yet the figure only let out a soft laugh, gave a thumbs-up, turned, and walked away, leaving a single sentence drifting in the air:
"Never let anyone look down on you. Believe you're the best. You can protect your little sister."
"Don't go…"
Clambering from the rubble, she sprinted after the retreating back, gasping, charging full-tilt.
He was the one she'd longed for, waited for, searched for—twenty whole years.
Rank 1 of the S-Class: Blast.
"Don't go…"
Tornado whispered, her staggering steps steadied, then she took flight with psychokinesis, rocketing at top speed.
Even so, she still couldn't reach that back.
"DON'T GO!!!"
A heart-wrenching scream tore through the white void; cracks webbed across the space, exploding like shattered glass…
In reality, Tornado's eyes snapped open, the whites shot through with crimson veins.
Her head felt skewered by countless needles; the agony dropped the second-strongest S-Class hero to her knees.
That's right… I promised Blast I'd become the strongest!
So how—how could I lose to this guy KING?!
With a piercing shriek, vast green energy erupted as Tornado pushed herself to the limit, her psychokinesis detonating at full force.
Since she couldn't twist the man into a pretzel or force him to dodge with a barrage…
She would condense every ounce of power into one point.
The boundless psychokinesis—strong enough to rip a city's surface clean off—compressed at breakneck speed.
In the blink of an eye, the oceanic mental force shrank into a ten-centimeter needle, horrific power pulsing within.
The moment it formed, the surrounding space warped under the strain.
Sensing the danger, King's expression finally turned serious.
That needle could wound him—badly.
With a thought, Tornado launched it; in 0.01 seconds, the sliver flashed to King's face like teleportation.
His pupils shrank; he blurred into after-images, blue streaks zig-zagging faster than eyes could track.
Where he had stood, space itself buckled—the needle had pierced reality, triggering a localized collapse.
"Don't even think of escaping!!"
Tornado roared, weaker by the second, yet still feeding the needle more power.
The next instant, a figure appeared behind her.
A plain knife-hand chop slipped through her crumbling shield and tapped the nape of her neck.
The energy flow cut off; Tornado's eyes rolled back, and she crumpled with a thud.
Deprived of its source, the mighty needle dissolved into motes of jade light.
The fight ended in King's effortless victory.
He'd let her attack at will; two moves later, she lay unconscious.
Hoisting the petite Tornado, he yawned in boredom.
He'd expected a fierce battle, but the little esper was disappointingly frail.
White steam fading, he exited the Gate of Wonder and flew toward the Hero Association with her in tow.
[Ding! Host has completed Option One.]
Hearing the System's notice, King shook his head wryly.
He could now count himself among the top combatants in the One-Punch Man world.
Tornado, one of the strongest short of the outlier freaks, had been all but one-shot.
With the Death Gate physique stacked atop the Eight Gates, he'd become a pure stat monster.
No gimmicks—just overwhelming numbers, rather like a certain Bald Demon King.
In the end, he hadn't even tested Night Gale; one punch had nearly killed her.
A Night Gale kick would probably have turned Tornado into red mist on the spot.
High above, the cold wind brushed King's face while he carried the unconscious Tornado.
He pondered a question that could decide life or death:
Should I go find Saitama and test my new moves?
…Meanwhile, at the Hero Association.
"Mr. Saitama, the exam area and props are ready; you may begin."
Having polished off several fruit platters, Saitama flinched when the Staff Members called, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Realizing it was only the exam, he exhaled in relief.
He'd feared the fruit cost money—terrifying thought.
Those pricey-looking fruits—several plates—would've taken months of tight budgets to pay off.
"Coming!"
He stuffed one last Kyoho grape into his mouth and jogged out of the lounge…