Boom!
Saitama stood in place, his expression dark, the atmosphere turning grim.
Like an iron rod, Suiryu's powerful whip kick smashed into his head, the fierce wind blasting his wig away.
Yet Saitama made no move to retrieve it.
There weren't many things in his life he couldn't tolerate—
But one of them was belittling the efforts of heroes who sacrificed themselves in silence for justice.
Some were weak, like Mumen Rider, but they still fought desperately to protect civilians, despite lacking talent.
That was justice.
Strength or weakness didn't matter.
"Beautiful strike!"
The host howled excitedly, lavishing praise on Suiryu.
But Saitama's face had darkened. He didn't even glance at Suiryu, his features shadowed.
"Impurities? What's that got to do with me? You're Suiryu, right? Here's my advice: if you're just in this for fun, then you'd better stop getting stronger."
He slowly raised his fist.
Dead-fish eyes locked on Suiryu, he smashed out a punch.
That plain, ordinary fist grew larger and larger in Suiryu's vision, suffocating pressure flooding him. He froze in place.
"Oh?"
At the last second, Saitama pulled back. Even so, the shockwave shredded Suiryu's clothes, baring his beast-like, chiseled muscles.
"Phew… almost lost control again. Nearly ended the fight in one punch."
Saitama flinched. He still had to keep calm—killing normal fighters by accident would be bad.
In the judge's seats, Bang and Bomb's eyes gleamed with awe and dread.
"Did you see, brother? That punch… far beyond the martial arts we've honed for decades. Saitama… this man is a monster."
Bang spoke with deep emotion.
"Even from this distance, his fist carried an unstoppable illusion… was it really an illusion?"
Bomb pondered. The instant Saitama pulled back, he felt even he couldn't withstand that punch.
But the focus of the arena wasn't their thoughts. It was—
"My god! Charanko's already balding so young?!"
Kusuo muttered with pity.
"You blind? That's not Charanko!"
Someone corrected.
"Fake! Fake! That's… that's Saitama?!"
"Heavens—it's Saitama!"
"Heroes can't join this! It's the Martial Arts Tournament! That's against the rules!"
"Disqualified! Disqualified!!"
Most of the crowd were martial artists or their fans. They already held prejudice against pro heroes. Now the uproar grew, voices boiling.
The judges huddled, quickly reaching a verdict: clear violation.
A senior referee stepped forward, microphone in hand.
"I hereby announce: Saitama replacing Charanko does not violate the tournament's principles! The goal of the Super Martial Arts Tournament is stronger, faster, higher! He embodies this! Therefore, the match continues!"
What?!
The announcement stunned everyone—contestants, spectators, even the referees themselves.
"Didn't we just disqualify him?"
"How can you say that? How do we explain this?"
"We must correct it immediately!"
Other referees turned pale, ready to intervene. If left unchecked, the crowd might riot.
"Brother, think fast—we may face trouble, but Saitama must be allowed to fight."
Bomb frowned.
Bang's hawk-like gaze locked on the entrance.
Two figures entered quietly. A man and a woman.
The woman was petite and graceful, clad in a tight white robe accentuating her elegance. She sat casually in the stands, her eyes warm as they watched Saitama.
Beside her stood a massive bodyguard of a man.
Helen Cho. Carnage Kabuto.
Their arrival silenced the stadium.
"…Doesn't seem like such a big deal. Just a wig, right?"
"True… why was I so mad? Don't stop—keep going, Suiryu, Saitama!"
"Yeah! Continue! Go Saitama!"
"Let's go, Suiryu!!"
The anger vanished as if erased. The crowd scratched their heads, returning to their seats, anticipation glowing in their eyes.
The Mind Stone.
Capable of controlling all life on Earth. For Helen, influencing a stadium was nothing.
"Boss, did we come just to watch Saitama-sensei fight? Please, can you put in a good word for me? I don't want to haul bricks anymore—I want to be Saitama's guard like Christina!"
Carnage Kabuto whined pitifully.
He envied Mosquito Girl Christina so much. With Saitama, she could learn firsthand. Far better than hauling bricks with Genus and Banner, or the brute squad of Metal Gorilla and Beast King—all meatheads.
"Just watch. Some pests are about to stir trouble. If the chance comes, let our master deal with it."
Helen's lips curved into a soft smile.
"Yes, ma'am!"
Kabuto cracked his fists, eager to prove himself. This was his chance to shine before Saitama, to join his "official roster."
On the stage—
Suiryu's pupils shrank, sweat drenching him.
That punch… it shattered his clothes like a dream.
Strong.
Saitama was stronger than he imagined.
But not stronger than him.
Blood boiled, battle spirit surging.
His focus sharpened, eyes sharp as blades.
The crowd's roar faded from his ears—his cells themselves screamed with joy.
His lips curved into a confident, arrogant smirk.
He had every right.
He was Suiryu.
"This is where it ends. Now… the true fight begins."
With a rip, Suiryu tore away the cloth on his body, his neck cracking with sharp pops.
Boom!
He bounced lightly, the arena floor caving in a meter-wide crater beneath his feet.
The power was terrifying.
(End of Chapter)
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