Saitama picked up a protective suit—something that, for him, might as well have been just for show—glanced at it, then set it back down.
"It's fine," he said calmly. "If one punch doesn't solve it… I'll just use a few more."
Soon, the Quinjet carrying Saitama, Phil, and the elite squad roared to life, its engines thundering as it tore through the night sky and sped at full power toward the bustling metropolis that was about to be swallowed by darkness—New York. A new battlefield was waiting for them.
The Quinjet sliced through New York's night air. Below should've been the dazzling, sleepless world capital.
But what Saitama and Phil saw instead made their hearts sink.
Darkness.
Not ordinary nightfall—this was a thick, sticky black fog that seemed alive, smothering all of Manhattan and steadily spreading into the surrounding boroughs. The silhouettes of skyscrapers loomed faintly inside the fog, like silent tombstones for giants. The city's iconic brilliance had been devoured completely—only scattered pinpricks of weak light struggled within the haze like candles in the wind, ready to die at any moment.
The aircraft slowly lowered altitude, searching for somewhere to land. The closer they got to the city center, the denser the fog became—until it began actively corroding the windows, producing a faint, teeth-gritting hiss.
"Sir… the streets below…" the pilot's voice trembled despite trying to hide it. "It's bad."
The searchlight beam stabbed through the fog, illuminating the streets.
Silence.
Absolute silence had replaced New York's usual roar.
The streets were empty…
No— they weren't empty at all.
As the light swept across, shadowy figures could be seen shuffling stiffly through the fog.
They were the city's residents.
But now they moved like puppets with their souls torn out.
Their eyes were dull, and deep in their pupils flickered the same faint ghostly-blue glow as the abyssal beast's eye sockets. They wandered aimlessly, or stood rigidly in place—showing no reaction at all to the Quinjet passing overhead.
Then—
The searchlight seemed to trigger something.
Several "residents" near the edge of the beam snapped their heads up. Their hollow gazes instantly twisted into madness and violence. They let out shrieks that didn't sound human, lunging like beasts toward the light—slamming into parked cars and walls, even trying to leap up and claw at the aircraft!
"They're being controlled!" Phil's face turned grim. "Just like those creatures corrupted by dark power!"
"The highest energy readings are coming from the city center plaza!" Fitz's voice crackled through the communicator, thick with interference. "The dark energy there has formed a huge vortex—it's crazily absorbing surrounding life energy and negative emotions! It looks like… like a 'door' that's about to open!"
"Find a relatively open rooftop near the plaza and set down!" Phil ordered instantly. "Avoid conflicts with these controlled civilians as much as possible! Our target is the energy source!"
In the end, the Quinjet managed a difficult landing atop a skyscraper several blocks from the central plaza. Everyone rappelled down immediately.
The moment their boots hit the rooftop, that cold, suffocating dark presence became even clearer. The thick fog curled around their ankles as if alive, trying to seep in and corrode. In the distance, faint waves of insane howling and scattered explosions rose and fell.
(End of Chapter)
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