Saitama pressed without mercy, his offensive coming in waves without end. The aura around him climbed higher and higher, and Nazalor was starting to struggle to keep up. He could only defend and retreat, his armor cracking in more and more places—its repair speed nowhere near enough to match the rate it was being destroyed. The balance of victory was tipping violently.
This is impossible!
Shock, fury, and disbelief surged in Nazalor's mind. He could clearly feel the change happening within Saitama—a leap in power level so abrupt it awakened a long-forgotten instinctive sense of danger, the kind born from the most primal will to survive.
No more holding back!
Nazalor let out a thunderous roar and, at any cost, forced his core dark energy to erupt at full output. Deeper, more terrifying darkness exploded from within him, trying to withstand Saitama's increasingly monstrous assault.
"Abyss Tentacles!"
He roared as he unleashed a stronger dark spell. The hall's hard floor instantly turned into something like mud, and countless enormous tentacles made of pure dark energy burst out from below, whipping and coiling toward Saitama in a frenzy.
"Dark Storm!"
At the same time, a violent energy tempest formed around Nazalor, sweeping across the entire hall. Countless razor-sharp dark energy blades—like shattered fragments caught in a hurricane—began cutting everything within range indiscriminately.
Yet inside these spells—terrifying enough to erase an army in an instant—Saitama moved like a ghost. The awakened power granted him perception and speed beyond common sense. The rampaging tentacles were always a beat too slow, and the energy blades couldn't even get close to the invisible pressure field around his body.
Again and again, he broke through the layers of dark magic and closed in on Nazalor with unwavering resolve. Each breakthrough, each step forward, piled mountain-heavy pressure onto Nazalor's mind, and his defense began to grow more panicked—more openings appearing with every moment.
Just as Saitama was about to smash through Nazalor's final line of defense and deliver a decisive blow, a glance from the corner of his eye caught the state of the other battlefield, and his heart sank.
Doctor Strange and the Kmaal Guardian were in a terrible situation. There were simply too many dark creatures, and that dark rift looked like it was connected to an endless barracks—still spewing fresh monsters without stopping. They came in waves, utterly indifferent to casualties, smashing themselves into the sorcerer's and guardian's defensive line.
The Kmaal Guardian was already wounded. His ancient armor was covered in claw marks and scorched by energy burns. His movements had clearly slowed, and the holy light released with each swing of his weapon had dimmed significantly.
Doctor Strange wasn't doing any better. His face was pale, sweat constantly sliding down from his temples. Maintaining protective spells and casting attack magic were rapidly draining the magic he hadn't fully recovered in the first place. Even his casting motions now showed deep fatigue—he was on the verge of being unable to hold on.
His teammates were in danger!
If Doctor Strange and the Guardian fell, Saitama would be forced to face Nazalor and an endless dark army alone—and then the outcome would be unthinkable.
"We have to end this fast!"
Saitama made the decision instantly. He couldn't keep trading blows with Nazalor like this. He had to resolve the source of the disaster immediately—right now—so he could free his hands to support his companions and have a chance to shut that damned dark rift.
Decision made, Saitama stopped holding anything back.
He drew a deep breath, and the mysterious power that had just awakened inside him surged like boiling volcanic magma—driven in a single instant to an unprecedented extreme!
(End of Chapter)
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