The force—enough to instantly kill a normal Demon-level Monster—was just right for Lord Pochi.
The great dog, thoroughly enjoying the attention, narrowed all six eyes in contentment. He lowered his massive frame to the ground, cooperating fully with Jack's ministrations. A deep, rumbling purr vibrated in his throat—the sound of a creature utterly at peace.
Jack dutifully spent a full hour attending to Lord Pochi before finally speaking.
"It's like this, Lord Pochi. I need to leave for a while. Great Eyes has assigned me a task. It should take a few days."
Awoo…? * (Ah…?*)
Lord Pochi's head tilted. His six eyes regarded Jack with a conflicted expression.
All of his immense power had been bestowed by Great Eyes. Hearing that Jack was leaving to execute her mission, he couldn't object. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
Awoo, awoo? * (If you leave… what about the food?*)
Jack patted the massive head reassuringly. Lord Pochi, long accustomed to the gesture, showed no resistance.
"Don't worry. You won't go hungry. I've arranged for my subordinates to deliver it on time every day."
Lord Pochi grunted twice. Acknowledgment. Acceptance.
Then he rubbed his enormous head against Jack—a gesture of affection that would have flattened any normal Demon-level Monster into paste.
Jack braced himself. His body was tough enough to handle it. Barely.
The low awoos that followed, Jack understood perfectly. He was fluent in dog.
The food might come, but without the cooking… the taste won't be the same.
Lord Pochi's large eyes held a hint of grievance. Anticipation. Hope.
Once you've tasted good food, who wants to go back to cold, hard, dry raw meat?
Jack's tone softened.
"I'll be back as soon as I can. And when I return… I'll bring you some new flavors from the surface to try."
At the words new flavors, Lord Pochi's eyes lit up.
His tail—involuntarily, unconsciously—began to wag.
The flat ground behind him exploded. Several cannon-like deep pits appeared where the massive appendage had swept through.
Awoo? Awoooow~! * (New flavors? That's great~!*)
Jack bid farewell to the excited dragon-dog and did not return to his territory. Instead, he headed upward.
Through the complex, layered underground passages he went. Low-level Monsters patrolling the tunnels sensed his Demon-level aura and scrambled to move aside. None dared impede his path.
Finally—a faint glimmer of light ahead. The long-awaited fresh air.
The exit to the surface.
As he ascended the last few stairs, Jack's pitch-black carapace rapidly receded. Melted away.
Bathed in brilliant sunlight, a handsome young man with a gentle smile stepped out of the shadows.
Human world. Here I come.
The sunlight, after so long underground, was almost painfully bright. Jack squinted, adjusting.
He took a deep breath of surface air. It carried dust. Industrial exhaust. The faint tang of urban decay.
Completely different from the underground world of the Monster Association—that stench of rot and blood. This air wasn't fresh, exactly. But it carried something else. A vibrant scent called humanity.
He was on the outskirts of Z-City. Once a bustling metropolis, now showing unmistakable signs of decay. In the distance, sparse pedestrians hurried along. A few vehicles passed. But the shopping street where Jack stood? Every shop was closed.
Some doors hung open, wide and abandoned. Shelves lay overturned. Scattered goods had been trampled into the floor. The shopkeepers themselves had vanished—in broad daylight.
Decay. Emptiness. Silence.
All these elements combined into a single, desolate picture.
At this time, the Hero Association remained blissfully unaware of the Monster Association's existence. But the cancerous growth was already deeply buried underground, continuously seeping fear onto the surface. High-level Monsters appeared with increasing frequency. The residents here had become like startled birds—migrating one by one to safer city centers.
But among Monster and human alike, a terrifying urban legend circulated.
It was said that a supremely terrifying entity resided here. Whether powerful Monsters or human explorers who stumbled in… once they approached, they would mysteriously disappear. Leaving behind only gruesome remains.
Jack knew exactly who that so-called "terrifying entity" was.
The hero who acted on a whim.
Caped Baldy. Saitama.
The humans who died? Monsters killed them. But even the strongest Monsters met only death when they encountered Saitama. Ordinary citizens who came later found only the tragic aftermath. Bodies. Remains. Fear.
Over time, that fear had festered in the unknown. Ghost town status wasn't far away.
Saitama-sensei, huh…
Jack silently recited that invincible name.
He felt little worry.
He knew that for Monsters, Saitama had his own internal judgment standards. And Jack's core essence remained human. Even after becoming a Monster, he had never committed mass slaughter of ordinary people. Never indulged in that kind of evil.
As long as he adhered to his principles—didn't act like a Monster—even if they crossed paths, Saitama would most likely see him as just a slightly stronger passerby.
Probably.
Still. No need to deliberately seek attention.
Speaking of Saitama… Jack was currently facing a predicament similar to the bald Devil King's.
No money.
And… no clothes.
He looked down at his own body. Strong. Muscular. Clear, flowing lines of power beneath smooth skin. He put his hands on his hips.
Top priority: find clothes.
Under this world's distorted rules, Monsterification could transform along with close-fitting garments—if you were wearing them at the time of transformation. Otherwise, like Jack, every reversion to human form reset to factory settings.
He didn't mind showing off, objectively speaking. His physique far exceeded ordinary humans, and certain assets were… notable. But boys needed to protect themselves when outside.
With so many closed shops… there have to be some that haven't been completely cleaned out, right?
His gaze swept across the largely abandoned commercial street. Locked onto a clothing store with a crooked sign and a door hanging half-open. He walked over.
When Jack reappeared, he was transformed.
Black high-neck sweater as a base. Over it, a fitted dark gray wool coat—the hem falling cleanly below his hips, perfectly accentuating his already superior waist-to-leg ratio. Slim-fit work pants hugged powerful legs, the slightly elastic fabric doing nothing to hide the explosive potential coiled beneath.
Youthful face. Handsomeness comparable to peak Daniel Wu. Even casual attire transformed him into a walking hormone-harvesting machine for the opposite sex.
And possibly some of the same sex, Jack noted clinically. Given the looks.
No living souls in sight. Good.
He bent his knees slightly. Exerted force. Lightly pushed off the wall and ascended to the rooftop of a nearby office building in a single bound.
Z-City sprawled before him.
His figure flickered. When he reappeared, he was on a distant street.
Hands in his pockets. Strolling toward the city center.