C-class, Rank 1. License-less Rider!
He had been with the Association for eight years, the longest-serving among all C-class heroes. He also carried out the most frequent hero activities every year.
Yet despite his income being enough for a modest life, License-less Rider lived in poverty. He rented the cheapest apartment, woke up early, worked tirelessly on hero activities. The reason? Because he donated almost 80% of his earnings to beggars and the poor.
For him, even a bowl of winter noodles with an egg was a luxury.
Saitama remembered clearly the night he treated him to a meal—License-less Rider had given him an extra portion, but hadn't taken an egg for himself. That single gesture etched him into Saitama's memory.
It was a reflection of his own struggling past.
"Idiot!"
"Damn it! You trying to get us killed?!"
"It's coming this way! Fall back!"
"No way I can stop this thing—I'm out!"
Several B-class heroes nearby paled in fear. In front of them already lay the corpses of a few B-class comrades. The saying proved true: the bird that sticks its head out first gets shot.
"I will stop you! Stop!! Stop right now!!"
License-less Rider roared, charging on his battered bicycle. Blood sprayed as he forced himself forward, his will only burning brighter.
Bang!
One casual swipe sent him flying like a ragdoll, blood gushing from his mouth. He slammed into a wall and crumpled, his right leg broken. Yet he clawed forward like a worm, dragging his shattered body, teeth clenched.
Even so, he would block the monster's path.
This scene silenced the fleeing heroes and the terrified civilians. Some mothers covered their children's eyes. The entire street grew heavy, wordless.
"Hey! License-less, you idiot! Dying here doesn't suit you!"
A confident voice rang out.
It was A-class Rank 12—Spring Mustache! Dressed in a suit, twirling his curled mustache, wielding a gleaming rapier, he looked every inch the gentleman hero.
"It's Spring Mustache!"
"Thank God, we're saved!"
"Kill that monster!"
The crowd erupted with hope, forgetting the broken License-less Rider crawling in blood.
"Leave the rest to me! You B-class and C-class should stand back—this isn't something you can handle!"
With confidence, he flourished his rapier, executing a perfect mid-air spin and thrust.
"Cool!"
"A true A-class hero!"
"He's amazing!"
But the sound that followed made their blood run cold—metal screeching against steel.
Sparks flew. The blade had only left a faint white scratch on the bull monster's hide.
Boom!
Roaring, the Minotaur swung a hoof. Spring Mustache barely raised his rapier to block—but the overwhelming power sent him flying, slamming into the ground beside License-less Rider. He vomited blood and passed out instantly.
The onlookers fell into stunned silence.
Even an A-class hero couldn't withstand a single blow. Yet the battered C-class still lived.
"Run!!"
Panic exploded. Even the B-class heroes fled, dragging civilians with them.
On the ground, a weak yet unyielding voice shouted:
"Stop… I won't… I won't let you… I will never let you pass!!"
Blood smeared the pavement as License-less Rider dragged himself to the monster's feet, his limbs broken, his body ruined.
He was as insignificant as an ant—yet he clung stubbornly to its massive toe, his bloodied fingers digging in.
To the Minotaur, he was filth stuck to its sole—disgusting, irritating, useless.
"ROAR!!!"
The monster bellowed, raising its colossal hoof to crush him.
But License-less Rider smiled faintly, his vision red with blood, yet his resolve unbroken.
Yes. Even if he died here, he would never regret being a hero.
Even if there were a next life, he would still choose this path.
And in that moment, from the far end of the street, Saitama watched silently.
(End of Chapter)
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