Fubuki closed her eyes and thrust both hands forward. The marchers lifted off the ground as if yanked by invisible strings.
"That it?" she murmured, releasing them.
With a rush of air they crashed back down. Most hit hard and stayed there groaning—except one. Mid-fall, he twisted and landed lightly, a cold smile aimed their way.
"So you saw through my trick. Interesting."
"Who are you?" Fubuki asked. She didn't believe he was human, but labels could wait.
"Heh. You may call me Lord Kami. Or Supreme Hierophant. My true status—President of the Monster-Worship Church!" He laughed, then barked, "Rise, my faithful!"
The "injured" marchers stood as one, swaying like puppets, voices droning, "Kill… kill… those who do not believe…"
Clearly, they were under his control.
"I used to run a pyramid scheme," the man ranted. "But nobody believed me. Why? Why could others deceive so many while I couldn't break in? Then I woke up! If I became a monster, it would all change! I obsessed over how to fool more people and finally… I transformed! Now I am the ultimate cult leader!"
Saitama scratched his cheek, a tad more focused. "Mm. You worked hard for it, I guess."
Fubuki took the simple route. She snapped her fingers. A gust slammed down; the monster didn't even register it before he was shredded into confetti.
"About that level," she said.
"Boring," Saitama sighed. "Fubuki, let's go home and play games."
"Okay," she said, hurrying after him.
When they got back, four people were already waiting inside. Besides Genos and King, Silver Fang and his elder brother Bomb were there too. The moment Saitama stepped in, all four converged.
"Saitama, how is it out there?" Silver Fang's face was tight—part hope Saitama would catch Garou, part fear Saitama might kill him.
"Ahh… what are you all doing here?" Saitama muttered. Anyone that strong could get into his place easily; he didn't bother worrying. "Anyway, I took a big loss today."
"What?" Genos stiffened. "Sensei, what do you mean, 'big loss'? Were you—"
King kept a poker face, but his heart thumped. Saitama, brimming with fighting spirit, wearing that look—what had happened?
"Er…" Saitama couldn't exactly say he'd been stuck in another world and missed discounts, so he grinned and scratched his head. "Nothing much. I just lost my wallet."
Everyone froze. Then came the collective "so that's all?" expression.
"What's with those faces? There was a whole six thousand yen in there!" Saitama barked.
Genos suddenly tensed. "Wait—this aura… something is approaching fast."
"What?" Bang straightened, serious.
Genos frowned again. "It stopped. Seems they don't intend to break in."
Right on cue, someone knocked.
Silence fell. Who would knock, here of all places?
Everyone looked at Saitama. He strolled to the door, relaxed. "Maybe it's the landlord who forgot to collect rent for two or three years?"
Cold sweat all around. Probably only Saitama failed to grasp what this area meant.
This was Z-City's Ghost Town—current population a tenth of what it used to be. The monster density here was ten-plus times higher than other cities. It wasn't normal. It was eerie. This very neighborhood? Worse—easily eighty percent of the city's monster sightings happened here. The Hero Association had investigated once; two agents got mauled and barely lived. After that… silence.
A landlord, living here? Not likely.
Saitama opened the door. A "man" stood outside—either a robot or someone in a suit. Not a battle frame—more like a space suit.
"Genos. Long time," the visitor said as the faceplate slid back, revealing an elderly man.
"Dr. Kuseno!" Genos blurted. "Why are you here, Doctor?"
"Kuseno?" Saitama blinked, then placed him—the one who'd rebuilt Genos's body.
"You haven't come by in a while," the doctor said. "I thought you needed maintenance… but you looked busy, so I came myself."
Genos gave a rueful smile. "Sorry to trouble you."
Dr. Kuseno set to work. To his astonishment, Genos's chassis hadn't worn down from extended use—instead, it was performing self-repair, behaving like living metal.
(End of Chapter)
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