In the end, after an ear-splitting, mournful screech, the worm's convulsions stopped. Its enormous body seemed to lose all support, slumping down limply and smashing onto the tracks with a heavy thud, splashing up clouds of dust and sticky mucus. Looking closely, its body had been wrecked from the inside into several sections—it was completely dead.
A deathly silence fell over the platform, with only dust drifting down slowly. Passengers who had fled to the safe zone stared at the motionless giant insect corpse, still shaken and unable to calm down.
Stephen also slowly descended onto the platform, staring at the scene in disbelief. His hands, still maintaining the magic shield, didn't even remember to lower.
At that moment, a segment of the giant corpse near its mouthparts suddenly tore open from the inside.
Saitama crawled out from within, then lightly hopped down onto the tracks. Aside from some transparent, gross-looking slime splattered on him, he was completely unharmed. He even casually patted at his cape, trying to shake the slime off.
"Tch… it's all wet in there, and it smells awful." Saitama wrinkled his nose, clearly displeased. He looked up at Stephen on the platform, who was standing there dumbfounded, and waved. "Hey, doc. This thing's not moving anymore—so it's fine now, right?"
Stephen looked at Saitama's relaxed expression—like he'd just been fished out of water instead of climbing out of a terrifying monster's belly—then looked back at the carcass that nearly blocked the entire tunnel. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. He silently dismissed the magic shield hovering in the air and withdrew his slightly trembling hands.
"…It's fine now, Saitama." Stephen took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Thank you for your… help. Leave the rest to New York City services and S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Oh, good." Saitama nodded, then glanced at the subway station and tunnel that had been wrecked into a complete mess. "Guess I'm not taking the train anymore. I've gotta walk back. What a pain…"
Grumbling as he went, he found a staircase that could still be used and strolled up onto the platform. Under the awed, stunned, almost worshipful stares of everyone present, he left the station—like he'd merely finished an unpleasant little errand.
Stephen watched his back, then looked again at the massive insect corpse, and gave a wry, helpless smile. He began casting spells to clear the scene and contact the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj to come assist with the aftermath. He knew New York's subway system would not sleep tonight—and that bald man's silhouette would probably become yet another unbelievable legend of this city. To Saitama, it might have been nothing more than an annoying obstacle that needed "cleaning up," but to everyone else, it was another miracle that had saved countless lives.
New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Ancient Greek and Roman Sculpture Gallery.
A gallery that was usually solemn, elegant, and steeped in artistic atmosphere was now shrouded in something eerie and oppressive. At the center of the hall stood an obsidian statue carved into the image of some ancient demon. Its surface was covered in glowing, blood-vessel-like runes that spread across it. Those runes emitted an ominous red light, bathing the entire gallery as if it were the mouth of hell.
Not long ago, this exhibit cracked open on its own without anyone touching it, and a real, living demon of stone broke free from a thousand-year seal!
(End of Chapter)
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