Silence.
The kind of silence that weighed heavier than sound. The cosmic battlefield was in ruins—stars scattered like broken glass, shadows dissolved into nothing, constellations twisted beyond recognition. The universe itself trembled on the edge of collapse, struggling to decide whether to continue existing after what had just occurred.
And at the center of it stood two figures.
One, the Shadow Monarch, kneeling, cloak torn, daggers cracked. His body flickered between substance and shadow, as if he were being erased by the very forces he commanded. His breath came ragged, every inhale carrying the weight of galaxies.
The other, the Hero, his bald head gleaming faintly in the shattered starlight, stood casually, fists lowered, cape drifting weightlessly in the void. His face was still calm—yet no longer bored.
For the first time in his endless path of one-sided battles, Saitama looked impressed.
Sung Jin-Woo's lips curled upward, blood staining his teeth. He forced himself to stand, his legs trembling, shadows crawling desperately along his form to knit his wounds.
"…Not yet."
His voice cracked, but his eyes blazed with defiance.
Saitama tilted his head slightly, watching. "You really don't know when to quit, huh?"
The Monarch's hand trembled as he raised it skyward. The broken remnants of his Infinite Shadow Domain still lingered—scattered threads of darkness across galaxies, floating shards of his once-perfect army. He pulled at them. Forced them to obey.
And then—
The universe dimmed.
Every shadow, every trace of darkness in existence, bent toward him. Not just his army. Not just his domain. The darkness of reality itself.
The void between stars churned, coalescing into a colossal tide. Worlds lost their night as their darkness was stripped away. Black holes flickered, unraveling into rivers of shadow that flowed into him.
The Shadow Monarch did the unthinkable:
He merged with infinity itself.
His form swelled, towering, no longer human—half-man, half-abyss. His daggers elongated into obsidian scythes. His eyes burned with a lightless fire, a singularity given form.
Jin-Woo's voice was no longer his own, but the chorus of every shadow in existence.
"I AM THE ENDLESS NIGHT!"
Saitama floated there, silent, cape fluttering in the cosmic storm. His expression didn't change.
"...Cool."
He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and raised his fist.
And for the first time since this battle began—he clenched it tightly.
The space around him warped. Reality trembled. This was no casual blow. No playful tap. This was serious. Truly serious.
A "Serious Punch."
The abyss roared. Jin-Woo swung his scythe, a slash of eternal darkness that cut across galaxies, erasing suns and shattering star clusters like brittle glass. It was not an attack—it was oblivion itself sweeping forward.
Saitama met it with his fist.
The punch detonated.
The universe screamed.
Not metaphorically—the fabric of existence itself howled, echoing with the sound of laws breaking, of dimensions tearing apart. Light bent. Gravity folded. Time stuttered like a broken heartbeat.
The wave of destruction spread outward. Nebulae were erased. Wormholes snapped shut. The concept of distance twisted into nonsense.
The Shadow Monarch's infinite strike met the Hero's unyielding fist—and the battlefield itself collapsed.
They were no longer in space. Not anymore.
The impact had torn them free from the universe itself, casting them into a place beyond comprehension. A white void, endless and formless. No stars, no ground, no up or down. Only existence and will.
And there, the battle continued.
Jin-Woo struck with scythes forged of singularity, each blow heavy enough to sever dimensions. His voice reverberated like the death knell of creation.
Saitama moved with speed that defied even thought. Each punch was the embodiment of inevitability, a force that could not be dodged, only accepted.
The void itself cracked around them, pieces of "reality" floating like shattered mirrors. Through those shards, glimpses of countless universes flickered—timelines branching, worlds both familiar and alien.
And through each reflection, they saw it: themselves.
Fighting, always fighting. Across worlds. Across infinite possibilities. The Monarch of Shadows and the Hero of One Punch, locked in eternal collision.
For a moment, Jin-Woo faltered.
He saw one shard—a world where he had never become a hunter. Another where his mother had never awoken. Another where his sister died. Another where he himself perished in the Double Dungeon.
And another—where he lived peacefully, free of power, with nothing but ordinary happiness.
His scythe wavered.
"…Why… why am I fighting?"
The abyss within him growled, shadows shrieking in defiance, pulling him back. Power is all you are. Without it, you are nothing.
But the doubt remained.
And in that sliver of hesitation, Saitama appeared before him, fist raised.
"Because you don't know what it's like to just live."
The punch connected.
No shadow, no shield, no abyss could stop it.
Jin-Woo's colossal form shattered, fragments of the abyss scattering like dust in a storm. His shadows screamed, then faded into silence.
The void itself stitched back together under the force, universes reforming, stars reigniting. The broken multiverse healed around the impact.
And Sung Jin-Woo fell.
Not obliterated. Not erased.
But human again.
He floated, unconscious, daggers gone, cloak in tatters. The Monarch of Shadows was no more—only a man who had carried too heavy a burden for too long.
Saitama hovered nearby, lowering his fist. He exhaled, a small sigh of relief.
"Finally… someone who actually made me try."
For a moment, he stared at Jin-Woo's unconscious form, then reached out and caught him before he drifted into nothing.
The void around them trembled once more, collapsing inward, pulling them back into the universe they belonged to.
The ruined stadium blinked back into existence. Survivors gasped as two figures descended from the sky. One, unconscious but alive. The other, standing tall, unscathed, carrying his opponent with surprising gentleness.
Genos staggered forward. "Sensei… did you win?"
Saitama scratched his cheek. "Yeah, I guess. But… it didn't feel like winning."
Bang approached, eyes still wide with awe. "You fought like gods… yet chose to spare him."
Saitama shrugged. "What's the point of winning if the other guy can't get up tomorrow?"
He set Jin-Woo down gently, cape fluttering.
The Monarch stirred faintly, eyes opening just enough to whisper.
"…Next time…"
Saitama smiled faintly. "Heh. Looking forward to it."
The crowd, the heroes, the hunters—all stared in stunned silence. They had witnessed something beyond comprehension, a battle that had scarred creation itself.
But to the two who fought, it was something simpler.
One man searching endlessly for a worthy fight.
Another man struggling to bear infinite power.
And in their collision, the universe was reminded—
That even at the peak of infinity, the fight goes on.