His vision blurred.
Blood and life slipped away rapidly.
"So this… is the feeling of death…"
License-less Rider gasped for breath. In his fading consciousness, he seemed to see someone standing before him. That bald man—Saitama.
He had noticed him long ago, back when Saitama was still C-class Rank 233. Every Saturday at the supermarket, he would see Saitama buying heaps of groceries, just like himself. Was he living in hardship too?
At times, License-less Rider had wanted to offer him food. After all, as C-class Rank 1, his income was slightly higher. But in the end, he never did. A man's pride was worth more than a handout.
Instead, when he could, he would invite Saitama out for udon. Even though his wallet was nearly empty, eating together made him feel warm. They would talk about which supermarket had the best deals, how to save on air conditioning bills, or how to travel for free.
Simple moments—but precious.
Now, as his mind dimmed, those times felt far too short.
A few months later, he heard the news—Saitama had rocketed up from C-class to S-class, admired by beautiful women and recognized as a true hero.
Meanwhile, License-less Rider remained a C-class forever. Because for an ordinary man who chose to be a hero… this was destiny.
His parents had once urged him to seek a steady job. He did. With talent and effort, he became a civil servant, guaranteed comfort and a white-collar future.
But one day, he returned home… only to find it destroyed.
From that day forward—there was no "civil servant License-less."
No "ordinary man with hope."
Only—Hero License-less Rider!
He had sworn to block the monsters. To never take a step back, even in death.
Yes. He had envied, suffered, struggled. But he accepted his fate.
And he never regretted it.
Death… was a release.
He smiled faintly, imagining his parents waiting for him. Finally, he would be free of regret.
BOOM!
A thunderous roar. The shockwave tore apart the buildings around him.
Startled, his eyes widened. A figure appeared before him—like a spear piercing the heavens.
Yellow jumpsuit. White cape. Red gloves and boots. Black belt. A ridiculous-looking hero uniform… yet to License-less Rider, it was awe-inspiring.
The Minotaur's massive hoof stomped down—but it was caught in Saitama's hand. No matter how the beast roared, Saitama stood unshakable.
"You okay? License-less Rider. Don't forget this week's udon. I'm still expecting you to show up."
Turning his head slightly, Saitama revealed a rare smile.
"S-Saitama…" Tears welled in License-less Rider's eyes. His heart warmed—he still had a friend.
"This monster is annoying. I don't have time to mess around."
With a casual push of his arm, the towering Minotaur flew backwards, crashing through buildings until it vanished from sight.
Saitama walked over calmly, kneeling beside License-less Rider, gently propping up his head.
"Sorry… Saitama… for troubling you…"
"Now's not the time for that. This week's udon—you're buying, right?!"
Saitama grinned, pulling a silver vial from his pocket. The T-type Gene Serum.
"License-less Rider! I, Saitama, grant you glory! Become—a true hero! But listen—this time, my udon gets TWO eggs! And three sausages!"
The tone suddenly turned comically rough. Whether License-less Rider agreed or not, Saitama poured the serum into his mouth.
Bruce had said oral intake was fine. Though the price stung—tens of thousands, spent, just for a bowl of udon. If he didn't add the eggs, Saitama swore he'd kill him himself.
The liquid seared like molten lava, each cell screaming as if splitting apart.
License-less Rider curled into a ball, sweat pouring, his body glowing red-hot. Veins bulged, muscles convulsed, his entire frame trembling on the edge of collapse.
Saitama whispered, voice low and firm:
"Twenty-five percent failure rate… License-less Rider, don't disappoint me."
Seconds stretched into an eternity. His body steamed, clothes crusted white with salt. Yet the serum's power worked.
Agony faded—replaced by surging strength.
License-less Rider's thin frame hardened, lean muscles defined, his body taller and stronger. His shirt ripped apart, revealing his new form.
With one squeeze of his hand, a steel railing twisted like paper.
"This… Saitama…"
His broken arms and legs had healed, no scars remained. The world looked sharper, clearer. He could hear the Minotaur's heartbeat fifty meters away. And instead of fear—his blood boiled with battle-lust.
"This… this is the glory… you've given me? Saitama?"
(End of Chapter)
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