The ruins of the battlefield smoldered, silence hanging like a thick veil before the inevitable storm. Dust swirled in golden shafts of light where the barrier strained, its translucent surface spiderwebbed with fractures no one thought possible.
And in that silence, two men stood unyielding.
On one side: Sung Jin-Woo, cloaked in shadows, his army reforming with tireless hunger. The immensity of his power was overwhelming—an infinite ocean, endless, eternal. His soldiers marched not just from the cracks in the earth, but from the void itself, a constant tide.
On the other: Saitama, the bald man in a torn cape, the unlikely storm in human form. He brushed a speck of dust off his glove, his blank face betraying only mild annoyance. Yet behind that empty look… something flickered. A feeling that had eluded him for years.
A spark of challenge.
Gasps and murmurs broke the hush. The crowd, once roaring with adrenaline, now sat petrified. Every hero, every hunter, every ordinary person protected by the barrier felt their hearts thrum painfully against their ribs.
Bang, arms crossed tightly, muttered, "The barrier… it wasn't supposed to falter. If even this can break…"
Beside him, Genos clenched his metallic fists. "Then Sensei may have to end this fight quickly. If he truly goes all out…" He trailed off, mechanical eyes widening as he processed the implications.
Cha Hae-In's sword hummed faintly in her lap. Her breathing was shallow, her palms slick. She had fought beside Jin-Woo, trusted his power, seen him obliterate dungeons beyond imagining. Yet here, watching that bald man erase titans and armies with flicks of his wrist, she felt the cold truth settle in her bones.
This is beyond dungeons. Beyond hunters. This is… gods clashing.
Yoo Jinho gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Boss… don't push too hard. Please don't push too hard…"
But Jin-Woo wasn't listening.
Jin-Woo's chest heaved, though not from exhaustion. He had stamina beyond mortal measure—his heart was steady, his strength limitless. But his soul… it burned with exhilaration.
This man… he annihilated my shadows. Erased them with a single blow. Yet even so, his face barely changes. What is he? What lies behind that emptiness?
The shadows swirled around him, restless, vibrating with his anticipation. Igris knelt, awaiting command. Beru hissed with delight, wings spread like obsidian blades. Behind them, the Dragon King Kamish's massive head emerged, eyes glowing with eternal malice.
"Rise," Jin-Woo commanded softly.
The earth trembled as the full weight of his army appeared once more. An entire world of soldiers, bound to his will. The very air darkened with their sheer presence.
But his gaze never left the bald man.
"You erased half my army," Jin-Woo said, voice low but carrying. "But my power is not bound by numbers. As long as there are shadows, my soldiers will never end."
He spread his hands. "Can your fists truly kill infinity, Saitama?"
Saitama blinked slowly, watching the endless tide of black soldiers march forward again.
"…Man. You really like spamming the same move, huh?"
His words were flat, almost lazy, but his feet shifted slightly. To the crowd, it was imperceptible. To Jin-Woo, it was a signal: he was preparing.
Saitama sighed, scratching his cheek. "I mean, it's impressive. I'll give you that. But honestly… this is just making me tired. Like, I already mopped the floor once. Why're you bringing out the same mess again?"
Jin-Woo's lips curled into the faintest smirk. "Then stop holding back. Show me what lies beyond boredom."
For a heartbeat, the two men simply stared at each other—monarch and hero, hunger and emptiness. The silence before collision.
The shadows surged.
Dragons screamed, their wings blotting out the artificial sky of the arena. Giants raised blades that could bisect mountains. Wolves howled, their fangs dripping darkness.
And at the center of it, Sung Jin-Woo launched forward, Igris at his side, Kamish's jaws snapping lightning from above.
Saitama stepped forward once. The ground exploded beneath his heel.
And then—he vanished.
The air cracked like thunder.
He appeared mid-swarm, his fist already in motion. One punch obliterated a dragon, its entire form unraveling into mist. He pivoted, striking upward—shockwaves lanced through the giants, tearing them apart before their swords even fell.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Every movement was pure destruction. Blindingly fast. Unstoppable.
Yet for every soldier erased, ten more surged forward.
Jin-Woo himself joined the assault, twin daggers shimmering with deadly light. He blurred through his army, closing the distance in an instant. His blade slashed toward Saitama's neck—sharp enough to slice through diamond.
CLANG!
Saitama tilted his head lazily. The dagger scraped harmlessly off his skin.
"Eh?" Saitama blinked, unimpressed.
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed. His other dagger plunged toward the hero's chest.
CLANG!
Another useless strike.
Saitama sighed, reaching out. With casual ease, he caught Jin-Woo's wrist mid-swing.
"You know," he said flatly, "you're kinda like a mosquito. Persistent, but not really dangerous."
Then he flicked his finger. Just one flick.
Jin-Woo flew backward like a meteor, smashing through his own army, shadows dispersing in waves as his body tore through them. He slammed into the far end of the arena, cracking the wall behind him.
The hunters gasped. The heroes gaped.
But Jin-Woo rose. Slowly, deliberately, his cloak of shadows rippling even stronger than before. His eyes gleamed—not with fear, but with savage delight.
"…Yes." He laughed breathlessly, wiping blood from his lip. "Yes, that's it. That's what I wanted."
The Monarch's aura exploded outward, drowning the battlefield in black. His soldiers shrieked, their forms mutating, growing more vicious, more unstable.
"If I must burn myself away to reach you… then so be it."
Saitama's brows lowered slightly.
It was subtle, but it was there.
For years, no matter who he faced, no matter what apocalyptic threat rose against him—he was untouchable. A single punch, and it ended. His battles were comedies, tragedies, but never challenges.
But here was a man who kept getting up. Who called his power "boring" and demanded more.
For the first time in… maybe ever, Saitama felt something shift in his chest.
"…Huh."
His fist clenched at his side.
"Guess this might be fun after all."
The ground trembled.
From the crowd, Genos whispered, "Sensei…" His sensors went wild, unable to contain the readings. "He's… he's actually getting serious."
Bang closed his eyes, sweat rolling down his temple. "The world may not survive what comes next."
Cha Hae-In gripped her sword tighter, her heart torn. "Jin-Woo… don't lose yourself."
And in the arena, the titans prepared.
Sung Jin-Woo, Shadow Monarch, shadows writhing endlessly at his back. His hunger unchained. His will unbreakable.
Saitama, the Caped Baldy, cape fluttering in the storm of his own rising power. His emptiness cracking. His strength unfathomable.
Both men smiled, one with joy, one with faint anticipation.
And then they moved.
The world ended in light and shadow.
To be continued…