Nova didn't get much sleep that night.
Not because he was nervous—he wasn't. The overflow had settled into a comfortable baseline, his body adapting faster than the Association's analysts could calculate. He spent the hours after the test reviewing footage on the suite's secure terminal: slow-motion replays of his punches, Tatsumaki's sphere shattering, the crater left in the arena floor. Numbers scrolled across the screen—force estimates climbing into the hundreds of tons at peak overflow.
He closed the laptop at 3 a.m., stared at the ceiling, and murmured to himself:
"Day four. Already S-Class candidate. Saitama did it in one punch. I guess I'm taking the scenic route."
Morning came with a knock.
Two black-suited Association agents waited outside.
"Hero Nova," one said. "The board has voted. Your provisional S-Class status is confirmed. Induction ceremony begins in one hour. Please follow us."
No fanfare. No parade. Just a quiet elevator ride to the top floor of headquarters—a restricted wing most heroes never saw.
The doors opened into a long, dimly lit corridor lined with portraits: Blast, Tatsumaki, Bang, Atomic Samurai, Child Emperor, Metal Knight, King, Zombieman, Drive Knight, Pig God, Superalloy Darkshine, Watchdog Man, Flashy Flash, Genos, Metal Bat, Tanktop Master, Puri-Puri Prisoner.
At the very end—empty frame with a simple plaque: Saitama – Rank 1 (Unconfirmed Activity)
Nova's lips twitched. Of course they have his spot ready. Even if he never shows up.
The agents led him through double doors into the S-Class meeting chamber.
Circular table. Thirteen chairs—most occupied.
The air felt heavier here. Not from pressure, but from sheer presence.
Tatsumaki floated near the ceiling, legs crossed, looking bored.
Bang sat cross-legged, calm and smiling.
Atomic Samurai leaned back, katana resting across his lap.
Child Emperor tapped away on a tablet.
Metal Knight's drone hovered silently.
King—massive frame, blank expression—sat with arms folded.
Genos stood at attention beside an empty chair (Blast's, presumably).
The others filled the rest: Zombieman smoking quietly, Drive Knight analyzing Nova with red scanner eyes, Superalloy Darkshine flexing unconsciously, Flashy Flash sharpening a kunai with deliberate slowness.
All eyes turned to Nova as he entered.
Sitch stood at the head of the table.
"Hero Nova. By emergency vote of the S-Class council and executive board, you are hereby inducted into S-Class, effective immediately. Rank assignment: S-Class Rank 7."
Murmurs.
Tatsumaki snorted. "Seven? After one real fight? Bold."
Sitch raised a hand. "Provisional. Subject to performance review over the next three months. Placement considers demonstrated output, growth rate, absorption efficiency, and combat judgment. Rank 7 places him above Tanktop Master and Puri-Puri Prisoner, below Genos and Metal Bat."
Genos inclined his head slightly. "Your power signature is… unusual. I look forward to observing it in the field."
Metal Bat grinned, tapping his bat on the floor. "Heh. New blood that can actually throw a punch. 'Bout time."
King said nothing. Just stared—his default terrifying aura doing the talking.
Bang spoke next, voice gentle but carrying weight.
"Young man. Power like yours grows hungry. Be mindful it does not consume your heart."
Nova met the old master's eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, sir."
Tatsumaki descended until she hovered eye-level with him.
"Don't get cocky, newbie. You took one good hit from me. Next time I won't hold back."
Nova smiled—calm, almost amused. "Noted. But fair warning: I get stronger the more you hit."
She narrowed her eyes, then huffed and floated back up.
Sitch cleared his throat. "Formalities aside. Your first assignment begins today. A Dragon-level threat has emerged in City Q—multiple confirmed kaiju-class monsters converging on the industrial sector. S-Class response is mandatory. You will deploy with the response team."
Nova nodded. "Understood."
As the meeting adjourned, Genos approached.
"May I ask—how does your ability scale? Is there a theoretical limit?"
Nova considered. "Right now? No. Every impact feeds the next. If I survive long enough… I don't know where it stops."
Genos's eyes glowed brighter. "Fascinating. Perhaps we could spar sometime. For data."
"Sure," Nova said. "Just don't cry when your incinerators get reflected back at you."
Genos paused—then actually gave a small, mechanical chuckle.
"Challenge accepted."
Outside the chamber, Nova paused by Saitama's empty frame.
He touched the plaque lightly.
"Soon," he whispered.
Then he walked toward the deployment bay.
Dragon-level threat.
First real S-Class mission.
Time to see how far the multiplier could climb before the monsters ran out of bodies.
End of Chapter 7