The silence in the Godsbane Gauntlet arena was absolute. It was not the silence of fear, though that was certainly a component. It was the silence of awe, of disbelief, of a collective holding of breath as two beings of unimaginable, almost mythical, power faced each other. On one side, Sung Jin-Woo, the Shadow Monarch, wreathed in an aura of ancient power and commanding legions of spectral warriors. On the other, Saitama, "Blast," the bald hero whose "victories" had been a string of increasingly bizarre and anticlimactic displays of casual omnipotence.
Shadow, Alpha, and Beta, from their concealed vantage point, felt the very air thrum with the condensed energy. The Night Shard in Shadow's hand pulsed erratically, as if reacting to the sheer concentration of otherworldly power.
"This… this is beyond anything we could have anticipated," Alpha whispered, her usual composure strained to its limits. "The power radiating from Sung Jin-Woo… it's like staring into the heart of a dying star. And Saitama-sama… he just looks… mildly curious."
Beta was no longer even attempting to take notes. Her pen lay forgotten. Her eyes, wide and luminous, were fixed on the two figures in the arena, her analytical mind struggling to process the sheer, unquantifiable scale of the forces about to collide. The data… it's… it's breaking all known parameters…
Down in the arena, Sung Jin-Woo regarded Saitama with an expression that was a curious mixture of amusement, intrigue, and a faint, almost imperceptible, respect. He had faced gods, dragons, and monarchs of other realms. He had stared into the abyss and made it blink. But this… this bald man… there was something fundamentally different about him. A void where power should be, yet an undeniable, almost suffocating presence that hinted at something beyond comprehension.
"You seek an audience with the one who styles himself 'Master' of this realm?" Jin-Woo finally said, his voice calm, resonant, echoing with the subtle chorus of his shadow legion. "He is… an interesting specimen. Ambitious. Arrogant. And utterly unaware of the true nature of the powers he so carelessly toys with."
Saitama scratched his cheek. "Yeah, that sounds like most of the bad guys I meet. Lots of big talk, not much follow-through. So, are you, like, his boss? Or just another really strong dude he hired for this tournament thingy?"
A faint smile touched Jin-Woo's lips. "I am… an observer. A traveler. And, on occasion… a collector." The shadowy figures around him seemed to solidify further, their silver-blue eyes fixing on Saitama with a predatory gleam. Beru, his Ant King Marshal, let out a low, eager chitter, his massive claws flexing. Igris, his loyal knight, drew his spectral longsword, its edges shimmering with dark light.
"So, you collect… strong guys?" Saitama asked, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Cool hobby. I collect coupons. Mostly for a ramen place back home. They have this killer tonkotsu…"
Jin-Woo actually chuckled, a low, surprising sound that seemed to momentarily lessen the oppressive atmosphere. "Perhaps. But before we discuss… collections… or ramen… a demonstration is in order. Show me, 'Blast,' why the Master considers you an anomaly. Show me the power that has brought this tournament, and indeed, this city, to such a… standstill."
He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't make a grand, theatrical gesture. He simply… extended his will.
The shadows around him erupted.
Not with fire and brimstone, not with chaotic energy. But with a silent, overwhelming tide of pure, concentrated darkness. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands of shadowy figures poured forth from Jin-Woo's own shadow, an endless legion of spectral warriors, each one exuding an aura of deadly purpose. Knights in obsidian armor, mages crackling with dark lightning, hulking beasts with glowing eyes, even dragons formed from pure shadow, their wings blotting out the already dim light of the arena.
The sheer scale of it was breathtaking. Terrifying. The crowd in the arena gasped, then screamed, as the Shadow Army filled every available space, a silent, inexorable tide of death. King Midgar finally succumbed to his anxieties and fainted clean away, slumping onto a terrified Chancellor Olba. Princess Iris clutched Alexia's arm, her face pale with a mixture of fear and a strange, awestruck fascination.
Shadow, watching from above, felt a shiver of pure, unadulterated awe. This… this is true power! Not just personal might, but the command of an entire army, born from his very soul! This is the kind of spectacle I've always dreamed of! (He conveniently ignored the fact that he was supposed to be creating such spectacles, not just observing them).
The Shadow Army, under Jin-Woo's silent command, surged towards Saitama, a black wave of claws, swords, and dark magic.
Saitama, surrounded by an ocean of spectral warriors, just looked… mildly inconvenienced. "Whoa. That's a lot of dudes. You sure you got enough snacks for all of them? They look kinda hungry." He then noticed Beru, the giant ant-knight, charging towards him, its mandibles clicking. "Hey, it's that bug guy from before! But… bigger. And glowier. Did you get a power-up?"
Beru, fueled by his Monarch's power and an insatiable battle lust, unleashed a devastating flurry of claw strikes, each one capable of rending steel and shattering stone. The attacks landed squarely on Saitama.
Or rather, they would have landed.
Saitama just… stood there. Beru's claws, imbued with the power of a Marshal of the Shadow Army, simply… passed through him. Or, more accurately, they seemed to encounter an invisible, infinitely resilient barrier just before making contact, a barrier that Saitama himself seemed completely unaware of.
Beru, one of the most powerful beings in Jin-Woo's legion, stumbled back, its mandibles clicking in confusion. It had felt… nothing. No impact. No resistance. Just… emptiness.
Saitama then reached out and… patted Beru on the head. Like one might pat a large, slightly excitable dog.
"Hey, easy there, bug-buddy," Saitama said. "No need to get all worked up. We're just having a friendly little chat, right?"
Beru, the terrifying Ant King, a being who had once brought an entire nation to its knees, froze. Its glowing silver-blue eyes blinked. It let out a confused, almost pathetic, chitter. It then… slowly… backed away from Saitama, looking utterly, completely, and profoundly bewildered.
The rest of the Shadow Army, which had been about to converge on Saitama, paused. They sensed their Marshal's confusion, his hesitation. They looked to their Monarch for guidance.
Sung Jin-Woo, for the first time, had an expression that could only be described as… intrigued. Deeply, profoundly intrigued. He had seen beings with immense durability. He had seen beings who could nullify magic. He had never seen a being who could render the attacks of one of his most powerful Marshals utterly, casually irrelevant, and then treat him like a slightly overenthusiastic pet.
"Your… defenses… are… unconventional," Jin-Woo said, his voice tinged with a new note of respect.
Saitama just shrugged. "Dunno. I just… don't get hit much. Saves on laundry." He then looked around at the thousands of shadowy figures surrounding him. "So, are all these guys gonna attack me at once? Or do we take turns? Taking turns is probably more polite. And less messy."
On the observation platform, Shadow felt like his brain was slowly melting. He patted Beru on the head. He patted the Ant King, a being of nightmare and legend, on the head. And Beru just… backed off. What… what IS this man?! Is his power some kind of cosmic anti-aggression field that only works on really, really powerful entities?!
Jin-Woo raised a hand. The Shadow Army, with a silent, disciplined ripple, receded slightly, forming a vast, menacing circle around Saitama, their silver-blue eyes still fixed on him.
"Very well, 'Blast'," Jin-Woo said, a faint, almost predatory smile touching his lips. "Let us dispense with the… formalities."
He then moved.
It wasn't a charge. It wasn't a leap. He simply… appeared in front of Saitama. One moment he was standing across the arena, the next he was there, his movement so swift, so silent, it was as if he had teleported, or perhaps simply willed himself into existence.
His hand, wreathed in an aura of black lightning that crackled with an almost unbearable intensity – the power of a true Monarch – lashed out, aimed at Saitama's chest. It was not a physical blow, but an attack of pure, concentrated shadow energy, an attack designed to extinguish souls, to unravel the very fabric of being.
"Monarch's Dominion: Soul Rend."
The attack hit Saitama squarely.
The arena lights flickered. The very air seemed to groan. The crowd gasped, then fell silent, expecting… something. Annihilation. Obliteration. At the very least, a really big explosion.
Saitama just blinked. He looked down at his chest, where Jin-Woo's hand, crackling with apocalyptic shadow energy, was pressed. He then looked up at Jin-Woo.
"Huh," Saitama said, a slightly confused look on his face. "Did you just… poke me? Kinda tickled."
Sung Jin-Woo, the Shadow Monarch, King of the Dead, wielder of unimaginable power, stared at his hand, then at Saitama's chest, then back at his hand. The black lightning around his fingers sputtered and died. The soul-rending energy, an attack that could shatter the defenses of gods and demons, had… tickled?
For the first time since he had risen from the ashes of his former life, Sung Jin-Woo felt a sensation he had almost forgotten: profound, utter, and complete… bafflement.
He had encountered beings who could resist his power. He had encountered beings who could absorb it, or redirect it. He had never encountered a being who seemed to be so fundamentally, so casually, immune to it, as if it were nothing more than a mild static shock.
He withdrew his hand, a thoughtful, almost speculative expression on his face. "Interesting," he murmured, more to himself than to Saitama. "Very… interesting."
Saitama, meanwhile, was starting to look a little impatient. "So, are we gonna fight, or what? This standing around and poking thing is kinda boring. I was hoping for, y'know, some actual action. Big punches, cool moves, maybe some property damage? Though try to keep the property damage to a minimum, okay? The robe guy gets really twitchy about that."
Shadow, from his perch, felt a silent scream building in his soul. HE THINKS A SOUL-RENDING MONARCH'S ATTACK IS A POKE! HE'S GIVING THE SHADOW MONARCH TIPS ON MINIMIZING PROPERTY DAMAGE! MY ENTIRE UNDERSTANDING OF POWER SCALING IS A LIE! A CRUEL, HILARIOUS LIE!
Jin-Woo looked at Saitama, then at his own hand, then back at Saitama. A slow, almost imperceptible smile, a smile that held a universe of ancient power and dawning, almost fearful, respect, began to spread across his face.
"Very well, Saitama," Jin-Woo said, for the first time using Saitama's actual name, his voice losing some of its monarchal echo, becoming almost… conversational. "You want action? You want… a fight?" He flexed his fingers, and the shadows around him seemed to roil, to coalesce, to take on a new, even more terrifying, density. His loyal Marshals, Beru, Igris, Bellion, and the others, stepped forward, their silver-blue eyes blazing with a fierce, eager light.
"Then let us… dance."
The final battle of the Godsbane Gauntlet was about to begin. Or rather, the most one-sided, reality-bending, and utterly confusing "dance" the multiverse had ever seen. And Shadow had a sinking feeling that the only one who was going to be doing any actual "dancing" was him, as he tried to dodge the collateral damage and the shattered remnants of his own sanity. The thrill was still there, buried deep, but it was now screaming for mercy. And possibly a very strong cocktail.