The battlefield was unrecognizable.
Where once stood the polished marble of the grand arena, now sprawled a landscape of ruin: craters steaming with molten rock, trenches deep enough to swallow rivers, and blackened scars left by dragonfire. The barrier shimmered under the constant punishment, a veil stretched to its limit.
Yet within that apocalyptic storm, two figures remained unshaken.
Sung Jin-Woo, Shadow Monarch, stood tall upon the fractured ground, his black cloak whipping like a banner of war. His gaze burned with exhilaration, like a general relishing the clash of steel. Behind him stretched an ocean of soldiers, endless shadows that filled every corner of the arena.
And at the eye of the storm stood Saitama. His cape was torn, his gloves scuffed, but his expression was… unchanged. Calm. Almost bored.
The clash of armies raged around them—blades clashing, fire roaring, monsters bellowing—but the air between the two men was heavy with something far greater.
A duel of wills.
The crowd sensed it. Even the loudest cheers had stilled, swallowed by the sheer weight of the moment. All eyes, all hearts, locked on the two titans.
"Your power…" Jin-Woo's voice cut through the chaos, low and commanding. "…defies all logic."
He raised his hand. Shadows crawled upward, birthing colossal knights clad in black steel. Each was as tall as a skyscraper, their swords large enough to split mountains.
"And yet, you fight without fear. Without hesitation. You're unlike any enemy I have faced."
Saitama tilted his head, unimpressed. "…You talk a lot."
The giant knights swung. Their blades fell like mountains collapsing.
Saitama leapt once. The ground shattered. In the blink of an eye, he soared past one blade, landing atop a knight's shoulder. His fist drove downward.
BOOM.
The colossus crumbled into mist, vanishing like smoke in the wind.
The second swung. Saitama vanished, reappearing midair with his fist cocked back.
BOOM.
The second knight shattered.
The third and fourth fell in quick succession, each reduced to shadows before their swords even touched the earth. The audience could barely follow his movements—their eyes catching only flashes of yellow and the violent collapse of titans.
And then silence. Four giants gone. The arena shook with the aftershock.
Saitama landed lightly, brushing dust off his glove. "…Big targets, easy hits."
Jin-Woo's grin widened.
Good. Stronger. Faster. Harder. Show me the true limit of your strength.
He lifted both hands. The shadows rippled.
The ground split, birthing a legion of beasts, each more grotesque and monstrous than the last. Dragons with scales of fire. Serpents that coiled like living rivers. Winged abominations that screeched storms into existence. The army of the dead was evolving, growing more vicious by the second.
"Then let us see," Jin-Woo declared, "whether your fists can silence infinity itself."
The horde surged.
From the stands, Genos clenched his fists, systems buzzing.
"He's surrounded… completely!"
Beside him, Bang narrowed his eyes. "No. He's testing him. That man… he hasn't even begun to fight seriously."
On the opposite side of the barrier, Jin-Woo's hunters—Cha Hae-In, Yoo Jinho, Go Gun-Hee—watched with grim faces.
"That bald man…" Cha whispered, her blade trembling at her side. "Even against all this, he doesn't falter."
Gun-Hee's voice rumbled, deep and grave. "He's not fighting an army. He's fighting Jin-Woo himself. The shadows are only the beginning."
The battlefield convulsed.
Saitama moved, fists blurring. Every strike detonated like artillery fire. Beasts dissolved in sprays of shadow. Claws and fangs passed through empty air as he weaved between them effortlessly. His punches carved shockwaves that toppled entire ranks in a single strike.
Still, more came.
For every shadow erased, ten more emerged. For every beast slain, another rose from the abyss. The field darkened, suffocating, infinite.
"…Tch." Saitama stopped for the first time, shadows surrounding him on all sides. His brow furrowed—not with fear, but mild irritation.
"This is getting annoying."
The army lunged.
Saitama inhaled once. His fist drew back.
"Serious Series…"
The air collapsed inward. The ground beneath his feet spiderwebbed with cracks. The audience leaned forward, breath caught.
"…Serious Punch."
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Light consumed the battlefield.
The shockwave tore through the arena, flattening thousands of shadows in an instant. The blast rattled the barrier so violently the world outside shook as if struck by an earthquake.
When the light faded, silence fell.
Half the army was gone, vaporized by one strike. The crater stretched across the entire arena floor, black smoke rising from its depths.
The crowd gasped. Hunters and heroes alike stared wide-eyed, united in disbelief.
"…He erased half of it…" Genos whispered.
Sung Jin-Woo did not flinch. His cloak billowed in the aftermath, eyes locked on the bald hero who now stood amidst the ruin.
For the first time, his smile faltered.
But then—he laughed. Low at first, then rising into a full-bodied echo that reverberated through the arena.
"Magnificent."
The shadows stirred again, rising to refill the void.
"Then let us see if your 'seriousness' can withstand eternity itself."
The audience shivered.
For the first time, they realized the truth.
Neither man was giving in. Neither man was slowing down.
This was no duel. This was the collision of the Immovable and the Infinite—a storm that could end worlds.
And neither had shown their true hand.
To be continued…