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In the world of Super Seminary
"The things Boros has done already violate the sacred laws of justice. That much is beyond dispute."
Holy Keisha's icy gaze seemed to pierce through dimensions, locking onto the alien tyrant on the screen—the one with that monstrous regenerative ability.
But what truly unsettled her wasn't his brutality.
"It's that body of his. That freakish lifeform. To Morgana, it's the ultimate prize. If the demon legion manages to replicate that kind of near-immortal physique… our angelic army will face annihilation."
In the world of Rakshasa Street
"These two monsters are just ridiculous. Right, Dian Wei?"
Cao Yanbing swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the towering spirit warrior at his side, who looked like some ancient beast out of legend.
Xu Chu—the legendary "Tiger Fool"—rarely showed hesitation. Yet now his expression was grave.
"My lord… I am inferior."
He wasn't arrogant enough to compare himself to the two cataclysmic war gods on screen. The power they displayed—blasting apart mountains and tearing open the earth—was beyond anything he could endure. Against that level of force, even he wouldn't last a single breath.
Nearby, Xia Ling nervously glanced at her own guardian spirit.
"I wouldn't win either," Li Xuanyuan admitted quietly, awe plain in his voice.
Xia Ling instinctively shrank back, a chill running down her spine.
The World of One Punch Man
At Hero Association headquarters, the meeting room had gone from stunned silence to something else entirely. Still quiet—but the emotion in the air had flipped upside down.
At first, they'd been overwhelmed by Boros' destructive might.
Now?
They were shaken by Saitama.
"What the hell is this?!"
"A C-Class hero? You've got to be kidding me! That's a cosmic joke!"
Metal Bat shot to his feet, muscles trembling with agitation. He stared at the bald man sitting in the corner, looking utterly detached.
"If that kind of power only ranks as bottom-tier C-Class… then what the hell are we S-Class heroes supposed to be?!"
That shout tore through the room, voicing what everyone else had been too stunned to say.
The strength Saitama displayed in his battle with Boros was beyond reason. It pinned them to their seats, eyes nearly popping out of their heads.
"KING! That bald guy is the real deal! Everything he said is true!"
"We all misjudged him!"
"That power… it's like a god descended to Earth!"
With King's tacit endorsement and undeniable proof from the footage, they had no choice but to accept reality.
But among the speechless S-Class heroes, one man harbored very different thoughts.
Flashy Flash.
Watching Saitama fight didn't fill him with despair.
It filled him with ambition.
"Such overwhelming brute force… and not a shred of refined technique. What a waste."
The idea took root in his mind like a virus. In his imagination, if Saitama trained under him—mastered the unparalleled Flashy style of swordsmanship and combat—he could be molded into a warrior surpassing even Blast.
"If that prodigy would just accept my guidance… he could sweep the universe and stand at the pinnacle!"
If true cosmic powerhouses across the multiverse heard this, they'd probably laugh themselves into internal bleeding.
If Saitama or Boros heard it?
They'd likely respond with the same blunt question.
"Who the hell are you?"
Back to the Battlefield
The firestorm finally began to die down.
Through the fading smoke and embers, a figure stepped forward.
Saitama.
His face looked as indifferent as ever.
His cape was torn, sure. A little scorched. But his body?
Not a scratch.
He casually flicked his arm. The shockwave from the motion alone snuffed out the remaining flames.
And then—
A blur.
Boros appeared in Saitama's blind spot like a phantom, face twisted with bloodthirsty exhilaration.
He swung.
The punch was faster than lightning, heavier than an ocean.
The pressure alone flattened the already-ruined ground behind Saitama. The air roared. Energy surged upward, ripping into the clouds—until fat raindrops began to fall from the sky.
Boom.
The impact split the earth.
A bottomless crater detonated behind Saitama, as though a god had scooped a chunk of the world away. Boros' strike carved two separate realities around him.
In front of Saitama, fine rain drifted down through dust-choked air.
Behind him, the sky cleared under the force of the shockwave.
The punch had landed squarely on his face.
Saitama's posture remained frozen in the "just got hit" position.
Boros withdrew his fist and burst into manic laughter.
"That solid resistance… exhilarating! This strike should have decided the match!"
Hero Association Headquarters
"That power… it's absurd! Is he even human?"
Bang—the martial arts master known as Silver Fang—stood open-mouthed. Even with his lifetime of discipline, he couldn't imagine a human generating that kind of force.
Genos stared at Saitama, who sat nearby as if none of this concerned him.
"Even Master… facing that kind of attack…"
Anxiety clawed at him.
Meanwhile, Flashy Flash clenched his fists, barely suppressing twisted excitement.
"Yes. Perfect. Only failure will teach him the importance of technique."
"Only defeat will make him kneel and beg to be my disciple!"
No one else could see the delusion brewing beneath his cool exterior.
Even Tatsumaki felt a flicker of disbelief.
"That bald guy… he really survived that?"
"Shut up, you bratty woman!"
The word "bald" stabbed straight through Saitama's heart. Once upon a time, he had thick, glorious hair.
He shot up from his chair, aura surging like a tidal wave.
"I don't even know how strong I've gotten."
"But if you think that kind of brute force can hurt me—no chance."
Across Other Worlds
In the afterlife of Naruto, Madara Uchiha stared at the battle footage as if turned to stone. His grand Moon's Eye Plan suddenly felt… small.
Even Hashirama Senju frowned deeply. Could even his Sage Art: True Several Thousand Hands withstand that level of attack?
In the world of One Piece, Kaido gripped his sake gourd, hand trembling. For someone who chased death like a hobby, the attacks from Saitama and Boros carried the unmistakable scent of true annihilation.
Even in Dragon Ball, Frieza curled his lips in faint amusement.
"Oh ho ho… how interesting. I didn't expect someone worth watching."
To him, Boros was merely "interesting."
Only a Super Saiyan would truly merit his attention.
Back to the Fight
Flames reignited on screen as Boros spoke with pride etched into every word.
"My species survived on a hellish homeworld. Our greatest advantage is our unparalleled regenerative power."
"And I stand at the peak of that peak."
"Even fatal wounds heal within a few breaths."
"But you're just a fragile Earth human. You can't recover from anything I inflict."
As he boasted, the ruptured blood vessels and torn flesh across his body visibly wriggled and sealed, restoring him to perfect condition.
He was still talking when an annoyed voice cut him off.
"Man, you're loud."
"You gonna keep yapping, or are we fighting?"
Saitama stood there in his shredded cape.
Uninjured.
Completely fine.
As if that planet-shattering punch had struck a mirage.
Across countless worlds, jaws hit the floor.
And in Hero Association headquarters, even Genos and King stared in stunned silence.
"Master… not even a scratch…"
No matter how high they'd set their expectations, reality had just blown past them.
S-Class child prodigy Child Emperor leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"How… how is that even possible?"
"....."