Wind-like slashes shattered the ground around Saitama, kicking a storm of rubble into the air—yet not a single speck scratched him.
Saitama reappeared a few meters away, puzzled. "Didn't you say you were switching to a totally different attack?"
What?
Gale Wind and Hellfire Flame stared, dumbstruck. Just now they'd attacked at their absolute top speed—together, with a tandem finisher. Even if an enemy dodged one of them, the other should've carved the target to pieces.
But Saitama had simply… strolled through every line, as if out on a morning walk.
"Damn it! What is this guy?!" Hellfire snarled.
"Hey, calling people 'monsters' is rude," Saitama replied. "You're the ones who look like mon—wait… are you two monsters?"
Flashy Flash: ???
Gale Wind: ???
Hellfire Flame: ???
"You bald freak! You dare mock us— I'll—"
Boom!
A single concussive report—and Hellfire Flame froze. What just happened? He'd only heard an explosion at his side. When he turned, Gale Wind was… gone.
No—not gone. Punched. Into pieces.
Saitama now stood where Gale Wind had been, looking at Hellfire with a too-pleasant smile. "Hm? You were about to call me bald again?"
Gulp.
Hellfire's grin turned sheepish. "Luxuriantly-haired big bro—sir! Good evening!"
Veins throbbed at Saitama's temple. "Even if you say that, I can tell you're mocking the bald part."
Watching the exchange, Flashy Flash swallowed. Maybe… he should think carefully about how to address Saitama from now on.
Saitama sighed and glanced at Hellfire. "Alright then, Hellfire—let's save it for next time."
He stamped lightly. The pocket-chamber's floor crazed and split, and Saitama sprang straight up, blasting back into the corridor he'd fallen from.
Flashy Flash allowed himself a crooked smile. "Name's Flashy, actually. The one you killed was Hellfire. Not that you can hear me…"
He sheathed his blade. "Someday, Saitama—I'll surpass your speed."
Saitama had barely landed above when a dry, mocking voice greeted him. "So, you're a hero too?"
He turned. A "mascot" was speaking to him—a human in an exquisitely made bird costume that looked almost alive.
"Uh… I guess," Saitama said. He was technically a special appointee. "Counts."
The monster blinked, surprised that Saitama hadn't attacked on sight. Given how abnormal he looked, most heroes opened with a punch.
What the monster didn't grasp: Saitama rarely hit first if he felt no killing intent.
"Then allow me to introduce myself. I'm a mid-level cadre of the Monster Association."
"'Mid-level cadre'? You mean the kind who doesn't officially rank as a cadre but acts like he's above everyone else?" Saitama asked.
Silence fell, painfully awkward.
"Ahem." The monster took a step back, puffing itself up. "To be precise, only those with cadre-level strength can hold my current position."
"Ohhh. That's impressive," Saitama nodded, sincerely.
Which somehow made the creature even angrier, as if he were being mocked.
"Whatever. Listen!" he shouted. "I was so poor I took a part-time job at an amusement park in a mascot suit. Then I discovered I couldn't get the suit off anymore—and by the time I realized it, I had become a monster! Terrifying, isn't it?!"
Saitama clapped, eyes wide. "Wow, that's really something—becoming a monster without noticing!"
"Y-you—!" He fumed. No point talking to an ignoramus like this!
"Remember my name, worm! I am a Demon-level monster—Phoenix Man! One day I'll seize the 'King' title from Orochi himself! But for now, I'll grant you a painless death!"
Phoenix Man lunged and pecked straight at Saitama's skull.
Crunch.
Saitama didn't lift a finger. Phoenix Man had simply hit too hard—and smashed his own beak, his head cracking apart like porcelain.
Saitama: …
"First time seeing a monster try to off himself," he murmured. "Alright, let's see what's ahead—"
He stepped forward—and blurred backward in the same breath.
What?
A golden sheen rose over Phoenix Man's corpse.
"Ahhh… what is this feeling…! Power—like nothing before!" His voice returned as the shattered head knit itself back together. "You're S-Class, right? You must be S-Class! Every time I die, I revive stronger. A-Class opponents don't trigger it anymore, but you—yes, you still can! So you must be S-Class!"
"A revival type?" Saitama peered closer, surprised. No wounds, not even a hairline crack remained on the reformed mask.
"Interesting."
(End of Chapter)
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