If this was a place they absolutely had to pass through, then teaming up with these monsters for now wasn't a big deal.
"Hahaha! If you're willing, that's perfect!" Hearing Zombie Man agree, the other party was delighted and led him toward a certain room—the one where a "Dragon-level" monster waited…
Elsewhere, Atomic Samurai's three disciples had also reached the depths of the Monster Association's base. In a sense, the three were quite strong.
A-Class Rank 2: Iaian.
A-Class Rank 3: Okamaitachi.
A-Class Rank 4: Bushidrill.
Among A-Class heroes, they had long been the top contenders right below Sweet Mask. Though Mumen Rider later pushed past them in the rankings, their true strength was unquestionable.
Of course, that's talking about day-to-day situations, where they could handle most monsters. But right now? Not so much.
They had just tangled with a Demon-level monster and nearly caused a disaster. Fortunately, they made it through with only a scare.
"There's fighting nearby—must be an S-Class hero," Iaian said tensely.
The other two nodded. Even though Iaian had lost one arm, his swordsmanship hadn't dulled in the slightest, and his two companions admired him deeply.
"Even with an S-Class around, don't get careless. It's rare that Master let us split up—we've got to make something of it!"
The other two bobbed their heads vigorously. Atomic Samurai was famously overprotective. If Iaian hadn't insisted this time, the three of them would never have been allowed to break away from their master's protection to push forward here.
Clap, clap, clap… "Not bad. Looks like you've got some guts."
At the voice, all three snapped their heads over. A woman sashayed toward them, hips swaying. Anyone could tell this one wasn't normal.
She wore bondage-style lingerie: a daringly revealing getup. On her right leg, a ripped black thigh-high heeled boot; on her left, a knee-high black leather heeled boot. Studded belts wrapped her body; her "top" was little more than a few straps. Long black opera gloves crawled up her arms. A mask hid her face, a heart insignia on her forehead, long dark hair spilling down.
Such obvious trademarks could only belong to one Monster Association cadre:
Monster Princess Do-S.
The three immediately shifted into fighting stances—but Do-S herself wasn't their immediate problem. From behind her, a dozen figures slowly stepped out. These weren't ordinary people or monsters.
They were heroes—under Do-S's control.
Do-S's ability: anyone struck by her whip would fall madly, utterly in love with her, submitting to her completely. Under that state, they became her thralls—obeying her every command.
"Damn it, so it's this," Iaian muttered, scowling. His two companions wore the same expression. Having to cross blades with former comrades never sat right.
"Careful! They're wearing illegal combat exosuits—swing carelessly and you'll snap your blades!" Iaian warned. He'd run into this kind of thing when he was new.
"Great, so we have to pull every punch?" Bushidrill groaned.
From the start, the trio fell into a grueling fight. The thralls' illegally modified armor made them hard to put down—and more than that, the three didn't want to hurt them. That was the real bind.
But the deadliest threat wasn't the thralls. It was Do-S herself, stalking the edges, waiting for an opening—then lashing her whip to claim another slave.
At the eleventh minute of their battle, a smile curled Do-S's lips. "Well then… you're mine, Bushidrill!"
Her whip snapped toward him. If it wrapped him, he'd be her property. She was already fantasizing how she'd train him, then use him to ruin Atomic Samurai.
Reality, however, had other plans.
Two hands shot out at once and caught the whip.
One belonged to Saitama.
The other to Sweet Mask.
"W-What?" Do-S froze. When had these two shown up? And how had they caught her whip bare-handed?
Impossible.
Back in the day, Do-S hadn't been some nobody. She'd been the shadow ruler of S-City's largest prison, using her position to freely torment inmates—and hone her whip technique on them. Her combat power eventually rivaled A-Class heroes. Later, an A-Class hero tried to purge the prison's rot—but in the end, even he fell to Do-S's beauty. She whipped him to death.
That incident made Do-S an S-Class wanted criminal. After consuming monster cells, she'd only grown stronger.
So, the ones who could catch her whip had to be… S-Class heroes.
Sweet Mask, though, was even more shocked. "Saitama!"
Saitama scratched his head. "Oh… the mask guy…"
"Why are you here?" Sweet Mask remembered clearly: only S-Class heroes had been invited down here, and Saitama had been designated a special S-Class—generally forbidden from acting casually.
"Ah, I was sleeping up there and the ground kept rumbling, so I came down to take a look," Saitama said, helpless, as if to say, Yeah, I broke the Association's rules—so what?
Sweet Mask wanted to say, "Rules are rules," but… there wasn't much he could do.
Saitama's power was simply too overwhelming—even a man like Sweet Mask, who considered himself among the strongest of S-Class, had no room to posture.
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!] [[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]