In an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Z-City, Saitama needed only one punch to obliterate two Demon-level monsters guarding the entrance to the Monster Association’s hideout.

Their remains were scattered across the cracked floor—chunks of flesh and bone splattered in every direction, blood soaking into the dust and concrete.

The S-Class heroes standing behind him could only stare in stunned silence. A few unconsciously swallowed hard, awe and unease mixing in their eyes.

“One Punch Man…” one of them murmured under their breath. “That nickname really isn’t an exaggeration at all.”

Demon-class monsters weren’t particularly threatening to S-Class heroes, but to defeat them with a single effortless blow—just like that—was another story entirely. Even among their ranks, only a handful could do the same.

Zenin Kyūjō stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the massive gaping hole in the ground. His calm, even tone cut through the tension.

“This,” he said, “is the entrance to the Monster Association’s headquarters. Anyone willing to descend with me—follow. Those who aren’t… stay here.”

Without waiting for a response, Kyūjō leapt straight down into the darkness.

Saitama tilted his head, blinked once, and then jogged forward before jumping in after him, without the slightest hint of hesitation.

As the dust settled, Genos, ever the devoted disciple, activated the boosters on his back. Blue fire erupted from his thrusters as his metallic body shot downward, chasing after his master and the bald hero.

Tatsumaki, the prideful esper, let out a quiet huff. Her small frame rose from the ground, surrounded by a swirling emerald aura of psychokinetic power, and she descended gracefully into the abyss with a confident smirk.

Moments later, when the four of them had vanished, Metal Bat stepped forward, scowling. Without saying a word, he rested his bat on his shoulder, muttered something under his breath, and jumped in as well—annoyed, but determined.

— — —

The elderly Bang (Silver Fang) walked toward the hole, his posture slightly bent with age but his gaze still sharp.

“We’ve come this far,” he said softly, yet his voice carried undeniable weight. “As professional heroes, it would be shameful to stand idle while the others fight below.”

No one dared to argue. Even without his words, most of them had already made up their minds.

Well—except for one person.

The only hero who stayed behind on the surface was none other than King, the so-called Strongest Man on Earth.

And so, King stood alone near the entrance, the rumbling of his “Emperor Engine” echoing ominously through the air. The rhythmic vibrations of his heartbeat filled the silence, striking awe into the others.

They all looked at him with admiration and respect, convinced that King had chosen to remain not out of fear, but to guard the rear and secure an escape route for the others.

“To think… King would stay behind to protect us,” one hero whispered reverently.

“Truly… what a noble man.”

King’s calm, stoic demeanor radiated such authority that it made them feel oddly safe.

Of course, only King himself knew the truth.

My legs… they’re shaking. I can’t move! What the hell am I doing here?! I need to run! This place is terrifying!

He swallowed hard, his face pale as a ghost.

Hey… could someone come back? Just one person? I need protection too! I’m not guarding the entrance—I’m trapped here! Guys? Hello?!

But his desperate cries never left his mind. The others were already gone, far beyond earshot.

— — —

Deep beneath Z-City, Zenin Kyūjō walked side by side with Saitama. Strangely, there was still no real battle for him to fight.

Every time they encountered a monster—whether Demon-level or even Dragon-level—it ended the same way: Saitama’s fist, a brief impact, and silence.

Blood and gore littered the tunnels behind them, the remains of monsters shredded beyond recognition.

Trailing behind, Tatsumaki watched the aftermath in horrified fascination. Subconsciously, her hand brushed her stomach as a chilling thought crept into her mind.

So… when that stupid baldy punched me before, he was actually holding back…

Her face went pale.

If he hadn’t restrained himself, I’d be just like these monsters right now—scattered into paste.

Kyūjō, sensing the other heroes closing in from behind, turned with a faint smile. He addressed Genos and Tatsumaki calmly.

“If you two keep following us, you’ll get bored. How about waiting here for a bit? The Association’s reinforcements will arrive soon. Join them when they come, and strike from another direction.”

He paused, then added, “Saitama and I will go ahead to face the leader of the Monster Association—the Monster King, Orochi.”

“In the meantime, focus on clearing the others. There are several Dragon-level threats strong enough to cause trouble. Without you, Tatsumaki, they might not stand a chance.”

For once, Tatsumaki didn’t argue. She simply met Kyūjō’s eyes for a moment, then nodded quietly.

Genos, of course, said nothing. As a disciple, he would never question his master’s judgment.

Satisfied, Kyūjō turned toward the dark corridor ahead. “Let’s go, Saitama.”

And with that, the two men—one the Light of Z-City, the other the Caped Baldy—disappeared deeper into the abyss, leaving the others behind.

— — —

In the dimly lit underground corridor, Zenin Kyūjō pointed at the solid rock wall ahead and spoke to Saitama in his usual calm tone.

“Keep walking straight. It doesn’t matter if it’s a wall or a monster—just destroy everything in our way. The Monster King, Orochi… and something even more terrifying are waiting beyond this point.”

“Oh, got it.”

Saitama gave a simple nod, then, without another word, swung his fist forward.

A deafening explosion tore through the underground passage. The impact shook the entire subterranean layer like an earthquake. When the dust settled, a massive tunnel stretched out before them—over a kilometer long—freshly carved through the stone by Saitama’s single punch.

But before they could step inside, a golden shockwave of energy shot toward them from the far end of the passage, moving at blinding speed!

Saitama blinked once, expression blank as always, then—after a brief pause—decided to take the blast head-on.

Kyūjō sighed quietly, sounding more tired than worried.

“This guy’s body really defies all logic… No matter what hits him, he won’t get hurt.”

He lifted his hand and conjured a Starforce barrier, the transparent energy field humming as it blocked the incoming shockwave. He didn’t even bother shielding Saitama—he knew there was no need.

The explosion thundered through the corridor, shaking the ground. When the dust finally cleared, Kyūjō was still standing unharmed.

Saitama, naturally, was fine too—though his yellow jumpsuit was now riddled with holes and tears.

“Saitama,” said Kyūjō, lowering his hand, “the enemy’s a monster dog—over there.”

He pointed ahead.

At the far end of the tunnel stood a massive black hound with six glowing eyes burning an eerie crimson.

“Oh, so you’re the one who did that, huh?” Saitama grumbled, glaring. “You wrecked my outfit, you stupid mutt!”

He clenched his fist, ready to smash the creature to dust. But before he could move, Kyūjō’s voice stopped him.

“Saitama, how about not killing this one? We could take him home—as a guard dog. We’re both away most of the time. At least if someone attacks, he can protect the house.”

Saitama blinked, thought for a moment, then gave a short nod.

In the next instant, the dog—Pochi—fired another golden blast straight at them. Saitama dashed forward, punching through the attack mid-air and dispersing the energy like smoke. His fist continued forward, striking Pochi square in the head with a heavy thud that echoed through the corridor.

“Whump!”

All six of Pochi’s eyes rolled back white as the giant hound collapsed with a deep, earth-shaking crash, unconscious.

Saitama stared for a second, then frowned slightly.

“But, uh… he’s huge. Isn’t that gonna be a problem if we keep him as a pet?”

Kyūjō chuckled softly.

“No problem. He can shrink his body at will.”

“Huh. Well, in that case, should we just leave him here for now?”

“Yeah,” said Kyūjō, glancing back at the fallen beast. “He’ll probably stay asleep for an hour or two. That’s enough time for us to deal with the Monster King.”

With that, Kyūjō stepped into the newly opened tunnel.

Saitama followed right behind him.

The two advanced deeper into the subterranean labyrinth. Each time they encountered another wall, Saitama casually punched through it, creating a path.

After repeating the process ten more times, they finally reached the final barrier—

the last wall separating them from Monster King Orochi.

— — —

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Monster Association’s underground stronghold, the Dragon-class monsters were already locked in battle against the S-Class heroes of the Hero Association.

Among the monsters stood names that could make even veteran heroes shudder: Homeless Emperor, Black Sperm, Evil Natural Water, Elder Centipede, Fuhrer Ugly, Gums, Hero Hunter, Phoenix Man, Gale Wind, and Hellfire Flame.

Each radiated such overwhelming power that the very air trembled under the weight of their presence.

One of them—the Homeless Emperor—had once been an ordinary man: a destitute vagabond with no purpose or hope.

A mere month before joining the Monster Association, he had been jobless, homeless, and discarded by society.

But in his darkest moment, as he cursed humanity and screamed at the heavens, something answered him.

The “God” of this world heard his cries—and granted him divine power.

That power, known as Energy Projection, allowed him to manifest and control pure energy freely, as though he were wielding the essence of creation itself.

Now, the Dragon-class monsters unleashed relentless assaults that drove even the S-Class heroes back.

Even veterans like Atomic Samurai and Bang struggled to hold their ground.

Among them, Elder Centipede—a towering, regenerating nightmare—proved the most fearsome. No matter how many times his body was sliced apart, it reformed instantly.

For a moment, it seemed hopeless. If not for the timely arrival of Tatsumaki and Genos, several heroes might have already fallen.

But when Tatsumaki released her full psychic power, the tide turned instantly.

Her emerald aura flared violently as raw telekinetic energy swirled around her tiny frame. With one graceful flick of her hand, that invisible force wrapped around Elder Centipede’s entire body—

and then twisted.

The monster’s agonized scream echoed through the cavern as its enormous body was crushed, torn, and shredded mid-air—until nothing remained but dust.

In a single blow, the creature that once survived countless heavy attacks was obliterated—completely annihilated by Tatsumaki’s power.

Far away, Zenin Kyūjō sensed the battle through his spiritual perception and exhaled softly.

Good. At least her strength is still intact, he thought.

If the others had to face those Dragon-class monsters without her, they would’ve been overwhelmed.

Kyūjō knew well that in this world’s original timeline, Tatsumaki at full power could fight—and even defeat—the fused form of Psykos-Orochi, a monstrosity that merged Orochi’s body with Psykos’ mind.

That fusion, known as Psykos Orochi Form, possessed power on a planetary scale. Their clash was said to have generated enough force to peel away part of the Earth’s crust.

Simply put, Tatsumaki’s power was beyond human. She was among the strongest beings in this world—and Kyūjō was fully aware of it.

— — —

After smashing through the final barrier, Saitama came face-to-face with the towering figure of Monster King Orochi.

The creature’s massive, serpentine body gleamed with dark, draconic scales. Several serpent heads sprouted from his back, each dripping with a viscous, glowing energy that radiated oppressive heat.

“Kyūjō,” said Saitama flatly, “this big guy’s the Monster King you were talking about?”

Kyūjō nodded once.

“Correct. You take this one. But after him, there’s another being—something far more dangerous. That one… I’ll handle myself, all right?”

Saitama frowned slightly. “Another one? You mean the thing you said was scarier than this guy?”

Kyūjō didn’t hesitate. His gaze hardened, his voice low and steady.

“Yes. It calls itself ‘God.’ The so-called deity of this world. But to me… it’s just another powerful entity. Nothing worthy of worship.”

Saitama stared for a few seconds, then gave a single nod.

Kyūjō smiled faintly and patted his shoulder.

“No need to overthink it. Whoever your opponent is, the result’s always the same. No one can withstand your punch. Go—show him your justice, Saitama.”

“Alright.”

Saitama’s eyes sharpened. He stepped forward, his white cape fluttering behind him in the scorching underground wind. Each of his footsteps echoed like thunder.

The time for justice had come.

— — —

Zenin Kyūjō closed his eyes and activated his Infinity Sensory System, a high-level ability that allowed him to simulate the upcoming battle between Saitama and Orochi in his mind.

The Monster King was a being of near-limitless combat potential.

From the antennae on his forehead, Orochi could fire hundreds of piercing energy spikes, each one powerful enough to vaporize a Dragon-class monster instantly.

Every part of his body was a weapon. No weak points. No blind spots. Even his face could morph into lethal forms of attack.

He possessed a terrifying mimicry instinct—a form of combat evolution that let him copy and surpass any technique he witnessed in mere moments.

Kyūjō recalled reports that Orochi had learned Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist—Bang’s martial art—after seeing it only once, and had even perfected it beyond its creator’s level.

If he fought Bang, Kyūjō thought, he’d master the technique in seconds. If he faced Atomic Samurai, he’d grasp every sword form instantly.

Orochi could also unleash scorching plasma-like energy from each serpent head, hot enough to melt steel and vaporize rock with ease.

But his most dangerous ability was Energy Absorption.

By plunging his tail into the ground, Orochi could draw energy directly from the planet’s core, storing it and releasing it as a Gaia Cannon—an attack capable of erasing humanity itself if fired at full power.

And even that wasn’t his final weapon.

In the face of death, Orochi could activate a regenerative process known as Fusion, absorbing anything around him—earth, metal, even living beings—to rebuild himself into a stronger form.

Left unchecked, that process could continue endlessly, until he fused with the planet itself—becoming a living world beyond death or destruction.

Kyūjō mused quietly.

“If I didn’t have access to Starforce purification here… if I had to rely only on Haki, Chakra, or Reiatsu, fighting him would be… nearly impossible.”

Then he smiled faintly, eyes softening as he looked at Saitama’s back.

“But if it’s Saitama-sensei facing him…”

Kyūjō slowly shook his head.

“No regeneration. No divine power. No technique in existence can withstand that man’s Serious Punch.”

In Zenin Kyūjō’s heart, the conclusion was absolute—

All power. All evolution. All destruction, no matter how vast—

In the end, it all meant nothing before a single punch from Saitama.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

📖 Full Novel Available! 📖

All chapters are now complete and available in full on Patreon!

If you want to read the story faster and without waiting, join here 👇

🔗 patreon.com/FaaanzKun

Thank you so much for all your support! ❤️

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep