The aroma of boiling crab, rich and savory, filled Saitama's small apartment, momentarily pushing aside the lingering existential dread and quantum uncertainties of the day. He sat cross-legged at his low table, meticulously shelling a large crab leg, his earlier philosophical musings seemingly forgotten in the face of culinary delight. Genos, ever the dutiful disciple, was preparing a side of seasoned vegetables, his movements precise and efficient, though his optical sensors kept straying towards his master, analyzing the subtle, almost imperceptible fluctuations in Saitama's ambient energy.
"Sensei," Genos began, placing a perfectly arranged plate of steamed asparagus next to the bubbling hot pot, "Dr. Kuseno has developed a new sensor array specifically designed to monitor the tachyonic and exotic particle emissions from the spatial rift. He hypothesizes that it may not be a decaying gateway, but rather a stabilized, albeit unintentional, puncture in the dimensional membrane."
Saitama grunted, expertly cracking a claw. "So, like a hole in a mosquito net? Hope nothing bites." He popped a succulent piece of crab meat into his mouth, a blissful expression briefly gracing his features. "Mmm. This is good. Not as good as half-price, but still pretty good."
The internal itch, however, had not subsided. It was a constant, low-level thrum beneath the surface of his awareness, like a distant engine he couldn't quite place. Every so often, it would flare, accompanied by a fleeting sensation of immense, almost unbearable vastness within him, a dizzying glimpse of something limitless and terrifyingly potent. He'd just attribute it to indigestion from all the excitement.
"The Doctor also theorizes," Genos continued, his brow furrowed in concentration as he monitored the readings on his internal displays, "that your interaction with the Void Maw did not merely repel it. It may have... imprinted. Your unique energy signature, the very essence of your 'existential assertion,' might have resonated with the fundamental structure of the void, altering its properties or creating a lingering sympathetic connection."
Saitama paused, crab leg halfway to his mouth. "Imprinted? Like a baby duck? Is that void thing gonna follow me home now? I'm not cleaning up after it."
Genos sighed softly. "It is more complex than that, Sensei. Think of it as... striking a bell of cosmic proportions. The initial sound, your punch, has faded, but the bell itself, reality, continues to resonate. And that resonance might attract... other vibrations."
As if on cue, a faint tremor ran through the apartment building. Not an earthquake. It was too localized, too... sharp. A teacup on the table rattled precariously.
Saitama looked up. "Neighbor moving furniture again? At this hour?"
Genos's head snapped towards the window, his sensors instantly focusing. "Negative, Sensei. That was not a seismic event. That was a localized spatial distortion. Minor, but distinct. Originating... from the direction of the rift."
The itch in Saitama flared, stronger this time, almost painfully so. He winced, rubbing his chest. "Ugh, this feeling is really annoying. Like I swallowed a bee."
Suddenly, the lights in the apartment flickered violently, then died, plunging them into darkness, save for the soft glow of Genos's optical sensors and the faint orange light from the still-bubbling hot pot. The rhythmic hum of the city outside abruptly cut out, replaced by an unnerving silence, deeper and more profound than the earlier quiet in the plaza.
"Power outage?" Saitama asked, unfazed. "Hope the crab doesn't get cold."
"Multiple energy grids across City Z are failing simultaneously," Genos reported, his voice now laced with genuine alarm. "And the rift... its emissions are spiking exponentially! Tachyonic particle density is exceeding safety thresholds by several orders of magnitude! Something is... coming through!"
The air in the small apartment grew heavy, charged with an unnatural energy. The temperature plummeted, frost beginning to form on the inside of the windowpanes despite the summer night. Saitama felt that strange pull again, stronger now, almost a physical yearning from the core of his being towards whatever was happening at the rift. The itch was no longer an itch; it was a roar, a burning, an awakening.
A faint, ethereal glow began to emanate from Saitama himself. It was not the brilliant, overwhelming aura of a typical S-Class hero unleashing their power. It was softer, more fundamental, a golden-white light that seemed to seep from his very pores, illuminating the tiny apartment with a light that felt both ancient and utterly new. His usually blank eyes held a spark, a focused intensity that Genos had rarely seen.
"Sensei... your energy levels..." Genos whispered, his sensors struggling to process the readings. It wasn't just power; it was potential, raw and untamed, like staring into the heart of a forming star.
"Yeah, yeah, I feel it," Saitama said, his voice calm, yet carrying a new resonance. He stood up, the golden light clinging to him like a second skin. The sheer presence of him seemed to warp the small space around him, making the shadows dance and the very air crackle. He wasn't actively doing anything, yet the power radiating from him was palpable, immense, almost suffocating.
He walked towards the window, the floorboards creaking under an invisible weight. Looking out, the usual cityscape of City Z was gone. The lights were out, yes, but more than that, the familiar outlines of buildings seemed... distorted, twisted, as if seen through warped glass. And in the distance, where the plaza and the rift should be, there was now a colossal pillar of swirling, chaotic light, punching up into the night sky like a malevolent beacon. It was a kaleidoscope of impossible colors, shadows, and fleeting glimpses of... other places. Forests of bone, cities of crystal, skies of fire.
The pillar pulsed, and with each pulse, a wave of nauseating, disorienting energy washed over the city. This wasn't the existential dread of the Void Maw; this was something different. It was a cacophony of alien thoughts, emotions, and intentions, a raw, unfiltered bleed-through from... elsewhere.
"So," Saitama said, his voice quiet but carrying an undeniable weight of authority, "looks like the mosquito net broke after all. And something bigger than a mosquito crawled in."
The golden aura around him intensified, no longer soft, but blazing, pushing back against the encroaching alien influence. It wasn't aggressive, but it was absolute, an undeniable statement of his presence. This was no longer just Saitama, the bored hero. This was something... more. The subtle evolution, kick-started by the Void Maw, was accelerating.
"Genos," Saitama said, not looking back, his gaze fixed on the swirling vortex. "Stay here. Keep an eye on the crab. Don't let it burn."
"Sensei! That vortex is emitting energies that could destabilize matter on a molecular level! It is not safe!" Genos protested, already powering up his own systems.
"Probably," Saitama agreed. "But it's also really noisy, and it's probably scaring the neighbors. And," he clenched his fist, the golden light coalescing around it, "this itch is finally starting to feel like something I can punch."
With that, he simply stepped through the wall of his apartment. Not breaking it. Not phasing. One moment he was inside, the next he was outside, floating in the air several stories up, leaving behind a perfectly intact wall. The golden aura around him flared, leaving faint, shimmering after-images as he shot towards the chaotic pillar of light with impossible speed, a golden comet against the dark, twisted sky.
Genos stared at the spot where Saitama had been, then at the intact wall, his processors whirring furiously. Phasing? Teleportation? Trans-materialization? The data is… inconsistent. Sensei's power is evolving at an exponential rate. The parameters are constantly shifting. He looked at the bubbling hot pot. And he is still concerned about the crab.
Meanwhile, at the Hero Association, the scene was even more chaotic than before. Screens were blank, communications were down, and the building itself was groaning under the pressure of the anomalous energies. Sitch was huddled under his desk, whimpering.
Only Tatsumaki, radiating a furious green aura, was still on her feet, trying to psychically push back against the overwhelming mental static pouring from the vortex. "What... what IS this crap?!" she snarled, blood trickling from her nose. "It's like a thousand screaming nightmares all at once!"
Suddenly, a golden streak cut through the oppressive gloom, heading directly for the heart of the vortex.
"Baldy?!" Tatsumaki exclaimed, shielding her eyes from the brilliance. "What is he…?"
Saitama arrived at the edge of the swirling pillar of light. It was a maelstrom of raw, untamed interdimensional energy. He could feel it trying to tear him apart, to unravel his atoms, to flood his mind with alien consciousness. But the golden aura around him, now blazing with an almost divine intensity, held firm, a perfect, impenetrable shield of pure being.
The itch within him was now a raging fire, a hunger for... something. Not destruction. Not battle, even. It was a hunger to understand, to connect, to impose order on this chaos, not through rules or laws, but through the simple, absolute truth of his own evolved power.
He looked into the heart of the vortex. And he saw... a face.
Not a physical face, but a presence, vast and ancient, looking back at him from within the swirling chaos. It was feminine, elegant, and terrifyingly powerful. Her eyes, if they could be called that, were twin pools of silver light, radiating an almost unbearable aura of shadow and mystery. She was clad in darkness so profound it seemed to drink the chaotic light around her, yet from her, Saitama felt an intellect as sharp as any blade, and a power that dwarfed even Boros.
"So," a voice echoed in his mind, cool, amused, and impossibly alluring, yet laced with an undercurrent of lethal intent. It was not the despairing drone of the Void Maw, but a voice like velvet and steel. "The anomaly that disturbed the currents. The ripple that reached even my shadowed sanctuary. You radiate an… interesting energy. Raw. Untapped. Almost… primal."
Saitama just stared. The golden aura around him pulsed, a silent challenge. "You're the one making all the noise?" he asked, his voice cutting through the interdimensional din. "And are you responsible for this annoying itch?"
The presence chuckled, a sound like rustling silk and shattering crystal. "An 'itch'? How quaint. Perhaps it is merely the dawning awareness of true power, little spark. I am Shadow. And I have come to investigate the disturbance you have caused in the symphony of existence."
From the swirling vortex behind her, shadowy tendrils began to coalesce, taking the form of grotesque, multi-limbed creatures, their eyes glowing with malevolent red light. They were not of this world.
"Let us see," the voice of Shadow purred, "if your… 'punch'… can entertain me."
The newly awakened, godlike power within Saitama surged, not in anger, but in simple, absolute response. The ordinary world had cracked. And something far from ordinary had just stepped through.
The real rumble was about to begin.