The entrance to the depths beneath the Crimson Tower was less a grand, hidden doorway and more a jagged maw of shattered stone and twisted metal, a gaping wound in the earth revealed by the tower's partial collapse. The air that wafted up from below was cold, damp, and carried the faint, metallic tang of old blood mixed with an unsettling, ozone-like scent of corrupted magic. The insidious whispers, though lessened by Saitama's mere presence, still clung to the edges of their perception, a faint, unsettling chorus promising forgotten knowledge and lurking horrors.
Shadow, naturally, took the lead. His dark cloak billowed (even in the still air of the chasm, Cid willed it to billow), his ebony blade held loosely at his side, a sliver of absolute darkness against the gloom. This is it, he thought, a renewed surge of chuuni determination coursing through him. The classic dungeon crawl! Traps, monsters, a hidden boss! This is where an Eminence in Shadow truly shines, navigating the perils with cool indifference, unraveling the mystery, and delivering a badass finishing blow! Saitama can… uh… provide backup. Yes. Backup.
Alpha and Beta flanked him, their senses alert, their expressions a mixture of grim determination and lingering awe from Saitama's earlier… exploits. The other Shades – Epsilon, Delta, Gamma, Zeta, and Eta – followed closely, their specialized skills ready.
Saitama and Genos brought up the rear. Genos's optical sensors pierced the oppressive darkness, casting beams of analytical light that danced across the rubble-strewn passage. Saitama, meanwhile, was humming a vaguely off-key tune, occasionally kicking a loose pebble.
"So," Saitama said, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space, "anybody got any snacks? This exploring makes a guy hungry. Genos, you didn't happen to pack any of those dried squid crackers, did you?"
Genos, ever focused on the mission, replied without turning. "My apologies, Sensei. My current loadout is optimized for combat and reconnaissance, not provisions. However, I have registered several potential food vendors on the city's periphery who may have survived the earlier incursions. We can investigate post-mission."
Shadow subtly cringed. Food vendors? We're descending into a potential lair of ancient evil, and he's planning his post-apocalypse snack run.
The initial descent was treacherous. The path was steep, unstable, and littered with debris. Gamma, true to form, managed to trip twice within the first fifty feet, narrowly avoiding a nasty tumble thanks to Epsilon's quick reflexes and slime-enhanced grip.
"Careful, Gamma," Epsilon chided gently, though there was an edge of exasperation in her voice. "This is no place for clumsiness."
"S-sorry!" Gamma stammered, her face flushed. She clutched her (now heavily reinforced) arcane scanner, trying to get readings on the ambient energy. "The magical signatures down here are… chaotic. Warped. There's a strong residual trace of the Cult's dark magic, but it's interwoven with something… older. More primal."
"The whispers grow stronger," Alpha noted, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. The faint, insidious voices seemed to be trying to pry at their minds, to unearth buried fears and doubts.
Saitama, however, just sniffed the air. "Smells kinda like old socks and burnt toast. You guys sure this isn't just someone's messy basement?"
Suddenly, from the shadows ahead, a guttural snarl echoed. A pair of glowing red eyes ignited in the darkness, followed by several more. Grotesque figures, hunched and vaguely canine but with elongated limbs and razor-sharp claws, emerged from crevices in the rock. They were clearly demonic beasts, likely summoned or warped by the Cult's influence, their bodies pulsating with a faint, sickly green aura.
"Demonic sentinels!" Beta announced, her pen already flying across her notepad. "Likely low-to-mid tier, but their numbers could be problematic in these confined spaces!"
Delta, her earlier unease forgotten, let out a joyous howl. "Fight! Delta wants to fight!" She lunged forward, a furry whirlwind of claws and teeth, before Alpha could even issue a command.
"Delta, formation!" Alpha snapped, but it was too late. Delta was already tearing into the demonic beasts with savage glee. The other Shades moved to support her, their blades flashing, arcane energies crackling.
Shadow watched, a flicker of approval in his hidden eyes. Good. A warm-up. Let the Shades demonstrate their prowess. Then, when the real threat emerges, I shall step in.
The battle was swift and brutal. The Shades, despite the cramped conditions, were a well-oiled machine. Alpha's strikes were precise and deadly, Epsilon's movements fluid and untouchable, Beta's analysis guiding their attacks. Even Gamma managed to unleash a surprisingly potent arcane blast that vaporized one of the beasts, though she nearly singed Zeta's hair in the process.
Saitama, meanwhile, leaned against a rock wall, arms crossed, watching the proceedings with mild interest. One of the demonic beasts, perhaps disoriented by the fighting, stumbled towards him, snarling, its claws outstretched.
Saitama didn't even look at it. He just… sighed.
And the demonic beast… tripped.
It wasn't a magical effect. It wasn't a hidden attack. The beast, in its lunge, simply caught its foot on a loose rock – a rock that hadn't seemed particularly precarious a moment before – and went sprawling, its head connecting with the stone floor with a dull thud. It lay there, stunned and twitching.
Saitama blinked. "Huh. Clumsy."
The Shades, momentarily pausing their assault, stared. Alpha's perfectly sculpted eyebrow twitched. Epsilon actually stumbled, a rare misstep. Gamma just whimpered softly.
Did… did he just defeat a demonic beast with passive bad luck inducement? Cid's mind reeled. Is his apathy field now extending to localized probability manipulation?! This is… this is breaking my brain!
"Sensei," Genos observed, his optical sensors analyzing the fallen beast, "it appears your mere presence may create… localized zones of increased misfortune for hostile entities. A fascinating, if statistically improbable, side effect of your unique physiology."
"So, I'm like, a walking bad luck charm for bad guys?" Saitama mused. "That's… actually kinda convenient. Less work for me."
Shadow felt a vein throb in his temple. Convenient?! It's universe-breaking! It's narrative-destroying! How am I supposed to have a cool, desperate battle against overwhelming odds when the main bad guy might just slip on a banana peel and impale himself because Saitama's standing nearby feeling peckish?!
They pressed on, deeper into the oppressive darkness. The whispers intensified again, now coiling around specific, uncomfortable truths. Alpha heard echoes of her past failures, the weight of her responsibility to Shadow Garden. Beta felt the sting of academic rivals who had dismissed her theories. Epsilon relived the painful experiments that had shaped her. Even Delta, usually so straightforward, felt a pang of loneliness, a longing for a pack she truly belonged to.
Shadow, of course, projected an aura of utter immunity. My will is iron! My mind, a fortress! These pathetic whispers cannot touch the Eminence in Sha— Internally, however, Cid was cringing as the whispers brought up embarrassing memories of his chuunibyou youth: that time he tried to "awaken" his powers by shouting at a pigeon, or when he dramatically declared his undying enmity to a particularly stubborn jar of pickles. Shut up, shut UP, stupid whispers!
Saitama, meanwhile, was starting to look genuinely annoyed. "Okay, this whispering thing is really getting old. It's like having a really bad song stuck in your head, but it's sung by a bunch of creepy ghosts." He then did something that, by now, should have been expected, yet still managed to shock everyone.
He shouted.
Not a battle cry. Not a magical incantation. Just a loud, frustrated, "HEY! YOU GUYS MIND KEEPING IT DOWN?! SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO CONCENTRATE ON NOT TRIPPING IN THE DARK HERE!"
And the whispers… stopped.
Not lessened. Not faded. They just… cut off. Abruptly. As if a celestial DJ had just yanked the needle off the record of cosmic despair. The oppressive psychic atmosphere lifted, replaced by a silence so profound it was almost deafening.
For a solid ten seconds, no one moved. No one spoke. They just… stared at Saitama, who was now rubbing his ears.
"Ah, much better," he said. "Peace and quiet. Now, about those snacks…"
Shadow felt something snap within him. It wasn't audible. It wasn't visible. But it was there. A tiny, crucial component of his carefully constructed Eminence persona had just fractured under the sheer, unrelenting pressure of Saitama's casual reality-bending.
HE SHOUTED AT THE ELDRITCH WHISPERS OF THE VOID AND THEY OBEYED HIM?! Cid's internal scream was so loud it almost gave him a headache. THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE MANIFESTATION OF PRIMORDIAL FEAR AND EXISTENTIAL DREAD! YOU CAN'T JUST TELL THEM TO 'KEEP IT DOWN' LIKE THEY'RE ROWDY TEENAGERS AT A LIBRARY! THIS ISN'T HOW HORROR WORKS! THIS ISN'T HOW ANYTHING WORKS!
Alpha slowly lowered her hands, which she had unconsciously clapped over her own ears. Her expression was one of dawning, horrified reverence. "The… the psychic assault… it simply… ceased. Upon your vocal command, Saitama-sama?"
"Vocal command?" Saitama blinked. "Nah, I just yelled. Usually works when people are being too noisy."
"But… the entities projecting those whispers…" Gamma stammered, her arcane scanner now showing completely blank readings where moments before it had registered intense psychic energy. "They are likely beings of immense, non-corporeal power! They should not be susceptible to… to being told off!"
Genos, however, nodded sagely. "It is plausible, Gamma-san. Sensei's vocalizations, when imbued with sufficient intent – in this case, profound annoyance – may carry a disruptive force capable of overriding even non-physical phenomena. His 'killer intent', when directed non-lethally, can manifest in… unexpected ways."
Killer intent manifesting as a stern telling-off?! Shadow wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to find a quiet corner and re-evaluate every life choice that had led him to this moment.
They finally reached a vast, cavernous chamber at the heart of the Crimson Tower's foundations. The air here was thick with the stench of decay and corrupted magic. In the center of the chamber, a pulsating, obsidian altar stood, etched with glowing, crimson runes that writhed like living things. Upon the altar, a shadowy, vaguely humanoid figure was hunched, its form flickering and indistinct, as if it were struggling to maintain its presence in this reality. This was clearly the source of the earlier demonic summonings and the lingering corruption.
"The Cult's inner sanctum," Shadow declared, his voice a low growl, trying to regain some semblance of control over the narrative. He could feel a powerful, malevolent aura emanating from the figure on the altar. This is it! The boss battle! Finally, a proper threat! Something Saitama can't just accidentally sneeze away!
The shadowy figure on the altar slowly raised its head. Two pinpricks of baleful, crimson light ignited in the darkness of its hood. Its voice, when it spoke, was like stones grinding together, filled with ancient malice and profound weariness.
"Who… dares… disturb… the slumber… of Xylos, Harbinger of the Shattered Veil?"
Xylos, Harbinger of the Shattered Veil! Cid internally preened. Excellent name! So ominous! So Lovecraftian! This is going to be an epic confrontation!
"Your reign of shadows ends here, Harbinger!" Shadow declared, stepping forward, his ebony blade held ready. "Shadow Garden has come to deliver this world from your corrupting influence!"
Xylos let out a dry, rasping chuckle. "Shadow Garden? Insignificant gnats, meddling in affairs beyond your comprehension. You cannot stop the convergence. The Master will—"
Xylos froze. Its crimson eyes, which had been fixed on Shadow, slowly swiveled to the side, towards the back of the chamber where Saitama was standing. Saitama, who had just yawned widely and was now scratching his stomach.
A flicker of… something… crossed Xylos's shadowy features. Confusion? Disbelief? Perhaps even a hint of… recognition?
"You…" Xylos rasped, its voice losing some of its earlier confidence. "That… that bald head… that vacant stare… that aura of profound, soul-crushing… boredom…"
Saitama blinked. "Huh? You know me?"
Xylos's shadowy form began to tremble. The crimson light in its eyes flickered erratically. "I… I have seen you… in the echoes… the echoes between worlds… The One-Punch… The Caped Baldy… The Annihilator of Narratives… The Bane of Final Bosses…"
Shadow Garden stared, utterly bewildered. Annihilator of Narratives? Bane of Final Bosses? What in the seven hells is this ancient evil talking about?
Cid felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. He KNOWS?! This… this ancient, evil entity from beyond the veil… RECOGNIZES SAITAMA?! And those titles… they're… they're terrifyingly accurate!
Xylos, the Harbinger of the Shattered Veil, a being of supposedly immense power and ancient evil, slowly, deliberately, began to back away from the altar. Its shadowy form flickered even more violently.
"No… no, not him… anyone but him…" Xylos stammered, its voice now tinged with genuine, unadulterated terror. "The Master warned… of an anomaly… a glitch in the grand design… a force of absolute, unthinking, anti-climactic… finality…"
Saitama just tilted his head. "So, are we gonna fight, or…?"
Xylos let out a sound that might have been a whimper, if a being made of shadows and ancient malice could whimper. Then, with a sudden, desperate burst of energy, its shadowy form dissolved, not into an attack, but into a swirling vortex of darkness that quickly contracted and vanished, leaving behind only the pulsating, empty altar.
The Harbinger of the Shattered Veil had, it seemed, just rage-quit reality.
Silence.
Saitama looked around the empty chamber. "Huh. Guess not. Did he owe you guys money or something? Seemed pretty scared."
Shadow just stood there, his ebony blade still raised, his perfectly crafted dramatic pose now feeling utterly ridiculous. Alpha, Beta, Epsilon, Delta, Gamma, Zeta, Eta – all of them were staring at Saitama with expressions that transcended mere awe. It was a look of people who had just witnessed the fundamental laws of their universe being rewritten by a confused bald guy.
The whispers were gone. The boss had fled in terror before the fight even started. The grand, climactic dungeon crawl had ended with an ancient evil entity recognizing Saitama from interdimensional gossip and promptly noping out of existence.
Cid Kagenou felt the cracks in his Eminence facade widen into gaping chasms. He had a terrible, sinking feeling that his carefully constructed life as a shadowy mastermind was about to become a recurring supporting role in "Saitama Casually Breaks The Universe: The Isekai Edition." And the scariest part? He was starting to find it just a little bit… thrilling. In a terrifying, ego-shattering kind of way.