Chapter 1 – The Summoning
The shift came without warning.
For Sung Jin-Woo, it was as though the entire fabric of reality had been rewritten. One moment, he was walking alone down a Seoul street under the veil of night, his body exhausted from another raid. The next, his vision warped. Gravity twisted. His feet struck polished marble instead of asphalt.
Jin-Woo froze.
The arena stretched before him—colossal, circular, built from stone and steel that hummed with divine power. Above, a sky fractured with golden light, as though the heavens themselves had been torn open to gaze upon this battleground. The sheer density of mana here was unlike anything he had ever felt, thick enough to choke lesser beings.
This place… it's not Earth. It's something else. Somewhere else.
His instincts bristled. Something about this space reminded him of the Gate—no, something beyond even that.
And then he noticed the other figure.
Across the arena floor stood a man. Ordinary. Plain. Average.
He wore a cheap-looking yellow jumpsuit, a white cape fluttering in the strange winds, and red gloves. His bald head gleamed under the divine light above. His posture was relaxed, his expression bored, like he had accidentally walked into the wrong building.
Sung Jin-Woo narrowed his eyes. He had expected a monarch, perhaps even a god. Not this.
Yet… his instincts whispered danger. This man wasn't weak. Not at all.
A voice thundered across the sky. Neither male nor female, but resonant, as if spoken directly into their souls.
"Warriors of different worlds… Sung Jin-Woo. Saitama. You have been chosen."
The sound rattled the bones of everyone present. Beyond the arena floor, protected by an invisible barrier of golden light, sat spectators. Rows upon rows of them, each a familiar face.
Jin-Woo's breath caught. His sister, Jin-Ah, sat near the front, eyes wide in shock. Cha Hae-In, pale but resolute, watched him with clenched fists. Go Gun-Hee, the fallen chairman, stood—reborn in this space—his gaze proud. And behind them, his soldiers, the shadows of loyal warriors who had followed him through countless battles, knelt in silent reverence.
On the opposite side, an equally strange audience: Genos, his mechanical eyes burning with anxiety. King, trembling as though he already knew he shouldn't be there. Mumen Rider, shouting encouragement despite his trembling knees. Tatsumaki, arms crossed in irritation. Even Saitama's elderly neighbors from his apartment complex, craning their necks in worry.
They had all been gathered, united by something beyond comprehension.
The voice boomed again.
"This is no ordinary contest. The victor will be granted one desire—absolute and unchallenged. No law of man or god will deny it."
The crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers, gasps, and fearful murmurs.
Saitama tilted his head, scratching the back of his neck.
"Uh… sorry, but… what's going on again? I was buying leeks at the supermarket, and then suddenly…" He gestured around vaguely. "…this."
Laughter erupted from some in his audience, while others groaned in exasperation. Genos' mechanical eyes whirred. "Sensei… this is dangerous. You must take it seriously."
Jin-Woo remained silent, though his eyes narrowed at the bald man's demeanor. He doesn't care. Or maybe… he doesn't need to care.
The voice faded, leaving silence that seemed to weigh heavier than sound.
The duel was set.
Jin-Woo extended a hand. The ground beneath him darkened, shadows spilling outward like spilled ink. The arena trembled as the void tore open, birthing armored figures one after another. Knights in obsidian armor, grotesque beasts with glowing eyes, winged monstrosities shrieking as they rose.
The air turned frigid under the oppressive aura of his army—hundreds of soldiers summoned in an instant, each emanating power enough to rival elite hunters.
Gasps rippled across the stands.
"That's… that's His Majesty's full army…" Cha Hae-In whispered, clutching her chest.
From Saitama's side, King paled. "Th-That… that looks bad. Really bad."
But Saitama only blinked.
"Whoa. That's… a lot of dudes."
His tone was casual, but his eyes swept the tide of shadows as if calculating how long it would take. His shoulders slouched, posture unguarded.
Jin-Woo's voice rang clear, calm and commanding. "If you truly are the opponent chosen for me… then prove it."
At a single gesture, the horde surged forward like a tidal wave. The arena floor shook beneath their charge, weapons gleaming with killing intent. Shadows shrieked, their voices rising in a chorus of war.
Saitama stood still.
The first knight reached him, blade arcing down. The weapon struck—
Tap.
Saitama casually flicked his finger. The knight shattered like fragile glass, dissipating into smoke.
Another lunged, spear aimed for his chest. Flick. Gone.
Dozens fell in seconds, their forms erased by nothing more than lazy taps, flicks, and light swats.
From the stands, Genos' jaw tightened. "Sensei… he's not even exerting himself. He's dismantling them with the bare minimum of effort."
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed as he observed. No openings. No weaknesses. Each casual movement hides something infinite.
With a wave of his hand, the weaker soldiers dissolved. The air grew heavier as Jin-Woo summoned his elites.
From the void rose towering figures:
Igris, the loyal knight commander, blade wreathed in crimson aura.
Beru, the insectoid king, wings beating with apocalyptic speed.
Tank, the beast whose claws gouged craters.
Iron, the armored titan whose fists could crush fortresses.
Their presence drew a roar from Jin-Woo's audience.
"Beru! Tear him apart!"
"Your Majesty cannot lose!"
The generals saluted their king, then charged.
Beru struck first, his claw slashing at Saitama's neck with speed that blurred the air.
Boom.
Dust erupted.
When it cleared, Saitama stood, unfazed, Beru's claw halted against his cheek. The insectoid general shrieked in disbelief.
Saitama yawned. "Man, that stings a little." He flicked Beru's forehead.
Crack.
The general dissolved into shadow.
Igris followed, roaring with knightly fury. His flaming blade struck, unleashing an inferno. Saitama sighed, catching the sword between two fingers. With a casual squeeze, the weapon crumbled.
Tank lunged next. Iron swung his massive fist. Each was dispatched as easily as the last.
The crowd fell silent.
Jin-Woo dismissed the remnants of his army, shadows retreating into the void. The air grew heavier still, his aura swelling until even the divine arena groaned under the pressure. The marble beneath his feet cracked, unable to withstand the weight of the monarch's true power.
His gaze locked on the bald man who had swatted away his army like flies.
"You are stronger than anything I've ever faced," Jin-Woo admitted, his tone calm but resolute. "But I do not fight for myself alone." His eyes darted briefly toward his sister, toward Cha Hae-In, toward the countless shadows who depended on him.
Saitama scratched his cheek. "…Eh. I just wanted a sale on groceries."
The absurdity of the statement drew nervous laughter from his side of the audience. But for Jin-Woo, it only sharpened his focus.
In an instant, Jin-Woo vanished.
The air exploded where he had stood, and he reappeared behind Saitama, dagger flashing with the combined might of Stealth, Quicksilver, and the Domain of the Monarch. The blade sliced for the bald hero's neck, its edge sharp enough to cleave steel like paper.
Clink.
The dagger snapped in two.
Saitama blinked. "Oh. Careful. This is my only costume."
The crowd gasped. Even Jin-Woo faltered for the briefest instant.
But then he vanished again.
Jin-Woo unleashed a flurry of strikes, his speed surpassing human comprehension. He was everywhere at once—slashes from above, below, behind, each cloaked in shadows, each reinforced by monarchic power. The arena echoed with the crack of displaced air.
Saitama barely moved. He leaned slightly to one side, tilted his head, lifted his arm lazily. Blades that could level nations met bare skin and failed to scratch it.
From the stands, Cha Hae-In bit her lip until it bled. "He… he can't hurt him…"
Go Gun-Hee's voice was grave. "No. But he has not lost either. This is only the beginning."
And in the arena, as sparks flew from shattered steel, Sung Jin-Woo's smirk returned.
Because even against this impossible wall, he had not yet shown his trump card.