Chapter 101 – The Most Damnable Puri-Puri Prisoner!!
[Adapt to Heaven and Earth: Your body will acclimate to every extreme environment, including but not limited to ultra-high or ultra-low temperatures, oxygen-free or pure-oxygen atmospheres, and toxic surroundings. It also grants a degree of adaptation to any form of attack.]
Holy shit!
King reread the skill description and couldn't stop a national curse from slipping out.
With this, he could fight in any extreme environment and even cruise through the starry sky without effort.
Why settle for The Strongest Man on Earth when he could be the strongest man in space?
Most important, the core of [Adapt to Heaven and Earth] wasn't merely surviving harsh environments—it granted adaptation to every kind of attack.
Meaning, whether it was mental, physical, or magical, as long as the strike didn't kill him outright, King could gradually grow resistant to it.
Looking at the two new passives he'd gained, King's grin nearly split his face.
These two passives had skyrocketed his survivability to the point of near-unkillability.
Barring surprises, the One-Punch Man world likely held no one who could kill him now—not even the Bald Demon King, Saitama.
Unknown gods were excluded, of course; the original work had never revealed their abilities.
"Not bad—this run's completely maxed out. Thanks for the giant EXP bag, Boros."
The praise came from the heart; without Boros willingly sacrificing himself, where would all these insane rewards have come from?
Truly worthy of a cosmic overlord—even his death loot was this rich.
Feeling the torrential power coursing through him, King's fists itched again.
Time to find the Bald Demon King and have it out once more.
King jerked upright, then collapsed right back with a groan as muscles tore in agony, arms and legs splayed in a wooden tree shape across the bed.
Forget it… lie down a while longer… The rush of rewards had made him forget he was still in post–Death Gate exhaustion.
Just then, a brilliant idea flashed through his mind.
"Hey! I've got a plan!"
Psychic Power surged out; King levitated, a pale green glow wrapping him as the power bore him along.
His muscles didn't have to move, so the tearing pain never came.
The ache would fade in ten minutes tops; until then he'd coast on Psychic Power.
With that thought, he made the gamepad hover, switched the console on, and started pressing buttons telekinetically.
Any outsider seeing it would've rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
From an ordinary viewer's angle, a tall blond man drifted like a zombie while a gamepad floated in front of him, every button dancing on its own.
Thus King, for the first time, played the triple-A masterpiece [Only Hate] with pure mind power.
Half an hour later, even the gaming ace King had blue veins popping on his forehead.
"Tch, all those variable-timed slashes— and sometimes the hit-boxes don't even match the effects! I dodged at the perfect angle and still got cut!"
"A forced story death? Where's the fun in that?"
"Damn it! I try to talk to an NPC and the cursor locks onto the sow in the pigpen!"
…Meanwhile, in Saitama's apartment.
The shiny-domed Saitama scratched his backside, lounged in casual home wear, and sprawled before the TV, lazily channel-surfing.
An opened bag of tomato-flavored chips lay beside him; he chewed mechanically, eyes vacant.
So boring… After the alien invasion was dealt with, the S-Class Heroes had returned to guard their own cities—Saitama included.
Thanks to King's advance warning, Boros's arrival hadn't cost A City many lives; only a few skyscrapers were wrecked.
The incident had hugely boosted the Hero Association's prestige; people now trusted the Association more than the government, and S-Class popularity soared.
Especially One-Punch Man Saitama: while five S-Class Heroes each fought one of Melzargard's Clones, he alone one-punched his into oblivion without blinking.
Rumors spread that he might be the top contender after The Strongest Man on Earth, King.
Hence the growing army of bald heads on the streets—Saitama's fans wore their smooth scalps with pride, just as Tanktop Master's followers loved their tank tops.
Watching the news recap of the alien attack, Saitama only yawned.
"Aliens destroy Earth? Doesn't feel like it. King offed their boss all by himself."
Hmm, what now?
He rolled over, pondering his next move.
Hit the supermarket for some high-grade beef and make hotpot, or drop by King's place for a game?
In the Bald Demon King's mind, only those two things could spark a flicker of interest.
Especially gaming with King: though he got thrashed every time, at least he felt alive while playing.
Yet the super-brain of the Bald Demon King failed to sense the crisis creeping toward him… just outside the prison walls.
BOOM!
A sharp hand-chop sliced the prison wall; rubble exploded sky-high.
A slim, dark-haired, androgynous figure vaulted out and sprinted without hesitation.
Speed so extreme that ordinary eyes caught only after-images; within minutes the escapee had crossed dozens of miles, a black-white streak tearing through the Space.
Yes—Sonic, freshly broken out of jail.
Wind howled past as Sonic fought back tears, humiliation and hatred erupting inside.
I'm out! I'll kill you all—Saitama! King! And the most damnable Puri-Puri Prisoner!!!