Standing amid the endless sea of stars, Saitama took a slow step forward toward the golden giant before him.

The being, wrapped in blinding radiance, said nothing. No sound, no motion—just an overwhelming presence that made the very fabric of space tremble.

Then, without warning, the god raised his colossal fist—gleaming like a star about to collapse—and swung it down upon the small, bald figure before him.

To this universe, that small figure was still an “unidentified entity.”

Facing that monstrous blow, Saitama merely shifted his right leg back, exhaled quietly, and raised his arm until his hand was level with his shoulder.

In that instant, his body formed the stance of a drawn bow—ready to release infinite force in a single motion.

“Serious… Consecutive Punches.”

And then—he struck.

Dozens, hundreds, thousands of crimson-gloved fists erupted into being all at once, each one tearing through the vacuum like a meteor storm. They collided with the god’s golden armor, the impacts echoing like the beating of celestial drums.

Doom. Doom. Doom. Doom!

The golden titan reeled backward, its massive form shaken violently. The Stellar Essence armor that even black holes could not destroy began to crack and groan under the sheer volume of blows.

For the first time in countless eons, that armor screamed.

Saitama paused for half a second, glancing down at his own fist, then up again at the drifting body of the god hurled across the galaxy.

It had been a long time since he’d felt it—

That rush of heat. That thrill of battle.

For years, he had been untouchable. Every opponent ended the same way: with one punch. He had forgotten what it meant to fight.

But now… this one had survived.

Even after his Serious Consecutive Punches.

Something inside him ignited.

The memory of Zenin Kyūjō, his strange ally, flashed through his mind. And with it, the image of Earth—the chaos, the monsters, the lives lost because of this being.

His calm expression hardened.

The anger that surged within him burned brighter than any star.

If this universe had a power detector like those in Dragon Ball, its screen would have shattered. The number would have skyrocketed beyond infinity—a straight vertical line that refused to end.

The fire in his eyes was pure fury.

In a heartbeat, Saitama’s body accelerated to the speed of light. Space folded, stars bent, and the cosmos blurred around him.

But as he tried to go faster—to exceed light itself—he felt resistance.

An invisible drag seized him, as if the universe itself had reached out to hold him back. The laws of reality screamed in defiance, refusing to let anything move faster than light.

Still, Saitama pressed on, maintaining that impossible speed as he reappeared before the god, who was still tumbling through the void.

He raised his arm again, ready to deliver another blow.

But before he could move—

the god moved first.

At light-speed.

The divine giant brought both hands together, forming a glowing geometric shape in front of his chest—four interlocking planes of light that spun and folded in on themselves.

A cube of pure dimension.

The Dimensional Matrix.

A technique that manipulated the fabric of four-dimensional space-time itself—an absolute dominion over reality.

From that radiant cube, beams of translucent white light expanded outward, bending all space around them.

Saitama was caught instantly.

His body began to shrink—smaller, smaller—until he was no more than a glowing miniature figure suspended in a cage of higher-dimensional energy.

For the first time in eternity, the god felt shock.

No being had ever survived longer than a single second inside the Dimensional Matrix. Any who entered were erased by the structure of time and gravity itself.

But the tiny creature before him was still alive.

And then, something even stranger happened.

The little bald man…

now had hair.

— — —

Inside the distorted matrix where time twisted and space folded infinitely, Saitama blinked.

He lifted a hand, running his fingers through the now-full head of dark hair.

“…Weird,” he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing slightly.

He looked up. Far above him—so far it felt like another reality—was the immense golden god, watching him through layers of warped space.

Saitama crouched a little.

And then—he jumped.

A deafening pulse tore through the void as he tried to move faster than light once more. But the Matrix resisted. Every step felt heavy, every motion pulled down by the weight of entire galaxies.

The pressure crushed around him, a gravity so immense it could break worlds.

Saitama grunted softly. Not from pain—just mild irritation.

He could feel the strain… and the thrill.

That same old feeling.

It had been years—no, decades—since he’d last felt it. The sensation of pushing past his limits, of tearing down the walls that defined him.

That was what his three years of “hellish training” had truly been about. Not the push-ups or the running, but the act of surpassing himself—over and over—until he became something the universe could no longer measure.

He had lost his emotions. His passion. His hair.

Because absolute power demanded a price.

But now—

That fire had returned.

The chains of reality creaked. The Matrix began to vibrate violently around him.

He smiled faintly. “Heh. Guess I’m back.”

The weight vanished. The resistance collapsed.

With a single step, he shattered the laws of physics.

“Serious Sprint!”

The universe screamed.

He broke through the speed of light—through causality itself—leaving a trail of ruptured time and torn dimensions behind him.

The Dimensional Matrix exploded into fragments of collapsing geometry, its rules unable to contain him.

And from the wreckage, Saitama reemerged—bald again, back to his usual self.

He blinked, rubbed his now-smooth head, and sighed. “…Figures.”

Then, in less than an instant, he was standing right before the god’s face.

Expression flat. Voice quiet.

“Serious Super Punch.”

The punch was simple—clean, almost lazy.

There was no light. No explosion. No theatrics.

Just impact.

To the god, it wasn’t a strike. It was the end.

Existence unraveled. The golden armor of Stellar Essence disintegrated into particles finer than light. The divine body vanished without resistance, without echo, without trace.

The final god of this world…

was gone.

— — —

At that same moment, across countless galaxies, those who traveled at light-speed—through technology or power—noticed something strange.

The stars flickered differently.

The universe felt… lighter.

And then it dawned on them—

The speed of light had increased.

The laws of reality had changed.

And somewhere, drifting among the stars, a man in a yellow suit and red gloves rubbed his shiny bald head… and yawned.

“…Guess that’s that.”

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