The S.S. Discount approached the Pacific Anomaly at flank speed. Below, the ocean churned as if it was boiling. But the water wasn't hot; it was being displaced by pure light.
Rising from the depths was a city. Not a ruin of Atlantis or a Monster lair. It was pristine. Towers of gold and glass spiraled miles into the sky. Bridges of hard-light connected floating platforms. It was utopian. It was beautiful.
And it was aimed right at City Z.
"The scanners can't read it," Child Emperor reported, his lollipop bitten in half from stress. "The materials don't exist on our periodic table. It's solid energy. And the inhabitants... they read as human, but... cleaner. Their DNA has zero defects. No aging markers. No disease."
"Perfect humans," Dr. Genus (holographically present) murmured with jealous awe. "It's... irritating."
"Incoming transmission!" Fubuki yelled. "It's on all frequencies."
The bridge main screen flickered. A man appeared. He was tall, wearing armor made of white porcelain and gold. He had flowing blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and radiated an aura of unbearable righteousness.
Commander Michaels. Leader of the Neo-Crusaders.
"People of Past-Earth," Michaels spoke. His voice was melodious, like a choir. "Do not fear. We are the Remnant. The survivors of the timeline where the Devil broke the world."
He pointed a gauntleted finger at the screen. Not at the camera, but seemingly through it, right at Saitama.
"We are here to rewrite history. To execute the Destroyer before he breaks his Limiter fully."
Saitama pointed at himself. "Is he talking about me? I already broke it, though. That info is old."
"Sensei, temporal mechanics suggest he is from a timeline where your 'serious' actions caused a cataclysm," Genos theorized.
Michaels continued. "We demand the surrender of the Bald Devil. If you comply, we will share our Golden Technology. Disease will end. Hunger will end. War will end. We bring paradise."
The image shifted. It showed images of a perfect world. Clean energy. Happy families. Flying cars.
"Surrender one monster," Michaels smiled benevolently. "And save eight billion souls."
The transmission cut.
The room was silent.
"That's a good deal," King whispered, then covered his mouth. "Sorry! I mean... theoretically."
"It's a trap," Garou spat. "Nobody gives paradise for free. Look at their eyes. Dead. Like dolls."
"But the public," Fubuki looked at her tablet. "Social media is exploding. People are marching in the streets chanting 'Give Him Up!' They want the flying cars, Saitama. They want cancer cures. They don't care about the guy who saved them last Tuesday."
Saitama stood up. He walked to the window and looked down at the Golden City shining in the sea.
"Flying cars would be cool," Saitama admitted. "Less traffic."
He turned to the team.
"If they want me, I'll go talk to them. Maybe explain it's a misunderstanding."
"Saitama, no!" Fubuki blocked his path. "You can't just walk into a future army base! They have weapons designed specifically to kill you! Paradox guns! Time-bombs!"
"Sounds expensive," Saitama said. He gently moved her aside. "I'll be fine. If they try anything funny, I'll just..." He made a vague punching motion.
"Sensei!" Genos charged his boosters. "I am coming."
"Me too," Garou cracked his knuckles.
"And me," Bang stepped forward. "I'm too old to live in a plastic paradise anyway."
"Wait!" A voice boomed from the doorway. Flashy Flash. "I'm coming too. My sword desires to cut 'perfect' armor."
Saitama shrugged. "Alright. Field trip to the Golden City. King, you stay here. Keep the engine running."
King gave a relieved thumbs-up and slumped into a chair.
They took the dropship down. As they approached the city's landing platform, thousands of the Golden Citizens gathered. They were dressed in uniform white robes. They didn't cheer or jeer. They just stared with beatific smiles.
The team disembarked.
Commander Michaels stood at the end of a long, golden bridge. He was flanked by two giant mechs—Seraphim Units—that looked like angels made of clockwork and fire.
"You came," Michaels nodded sagely. "Deep down, even a monster seeks redemption."
"I seek a hair growth formula," Saitama said, looking around. "Do you guys have that in the future? Everyone here has great hair."
Michaels scowled. "Silence. Your flippancy insults the billions you slaughtered."
"Slaughtered? Me?"
"In the year 20XX," Michaels intoned, "You grew bored. You sought a challenge. You punched the Earth's core. The planet shattered. Only the Holy Ark escaped."
"That sounds fake," Saitama picked his ear. "I wouldn't punch the floor. Where would I keep my stuff?"
"Denial," Michaels sighed. "Seraphim! Restrain him!"
The giant angel-mechs lunged. They moved faster than light. They didn't punch; they swung swords made of concentrated time-distortion energy.
Flashy Flash intercepted. Flashy Slash!
His sword met the time-blade. PING. His sword shattered instantly. The Seraphim backhanded Flash, sending the S-Class ninja skipping across the golden pavement.
"Their weapons age whatever they touch!" Flash screamed, looking at his sword fragments which were crumbling into rust. "Don't get hit!"
Garou leaped in. "Time manipulation? Just another trick!" He used Flowing Water to deflect a blow, but the air around his hand withered. His skin aged instantly, wrinkling and spotting.
"Whoa!" Garou recoiled, looking at his old hand. "Not cool!"
"This city exists in a temporal bubble," Michaels explained. "We are effectively eternal. You are fleeting dust."
Saitama walked forward. The Seraphim swung its time-sword at his neck.
CLANG.
The blade bounced off Saitama's head.
Saitama rubbed his neck. "Hey, watch the finish. I just polished my scalp."
The sword didn't age him. The temporal energy washed over him and did… nothing.
"Impossible," Michaels gasped. "He exists outside of time?"
"Genos said something about that," Saitama recalled. "Something about my limiter being broken means I don't follow rules. Or calendars."
He grabbed the Seraphim's sword by the glowing blade.
"Nice sword," Saitama said.
SNAP.
He broke it in half like a dry twig.
"Can I keep it?"
Michaels backed away. "Seraphim One! Initiate Divine Light!"
The mech opened its chest. A beam of white energy—pure radiation—shot out.
Genos stepped in front. "Incineration!"
The fire met the light. The collision created a shockwave that cracked the golden bridge. But Genos was being pushed back. His metal began to melt.
"SENSEI! MOVE!"
Saitama grabbed Genos by the back of his shirt and threw him—gently—to safety.
He stood in the beam. The white light engulfed him.
"Be purified!" Michaels shouted.
The light cleared.
Saitama stood there. His clothes were gone (except for his ever-resilient pants). He was smoking slightly.
"Okay," Saitama said, his voice annoyed. "That was my favorite casual shirt."
He cracked his knuckles.
"Now I'm gonna break your toys."
The battle was short. Brutal. And confusing for the Golden Citizens.
They watched their invincible angel-mechs crumble. One Seraphim was punted into the ocean. The other was disassembled and turned into a modern art sculpture by Garou and Bang.
Michaels stood alone on the bridge, trembling.
"Why..." he whispered. "Why won't you die?"
"I eat well," Saitama said, walking up to him. "Do push-ups. And I don't listen to guys in fancy pajamas."
He stopped in front of the Commander.
"Now. About those flying cars. Is that offer still on the table? Cause the traffic in City Z is terrible."
Michaels looked at the bald "devil." He saw no malice. No evil. just... a guy.
"The prophecy..." Michaels realized. "It was wrong. Or... manipulated."
He fell to his knees.
"God lied to us."
High above, Fubuki monitored the situation.
"They're standing down," she reported. "Saitama is... negotiating?"
"He's asking for a car," Genos corrected, his optics zooming in.
Suddenly, an alarm blared on the S.S. Discount.
DIMENSIONAL BREACH DETECTED. DIRECTLY BENEATH THE GOLDEN CITY.
"It wasn't an invasion," Child Emperor realized, horrified. "The Golden City wasn't a base. It was a cork."
Below in the ocean, the city began to shake. Not from battle. From something underneath it pushing up.
The golden towers cracked. The light bridges failed.
"It's waking up!" Michaels screamed, looking at the cracks forming in the golden pavement. "The Leviathan! The God-Beast we trapped in the time-stream! It followed us!"
A tentacle the size of a mountain burst from the center of the city, shattering the command tower. It was made of dead stars and void energy.
GOD LEVEL THREAT: THE TIME EATER.
It rose, a eldritch horror of eyes and mouths, blotting out the sun. It screeched, and the sound aged the paint off the S.S. Discount.
Saitama looked up at the behemoth.
"Man," he sighed, watching the future flying car he wanted fall into the ocean.
"Can't a guy just get a new ride?"
He tightened his fist.
"Serious Series: Serious..."
"Wait!" Genos shouted. "If you punch it, the time energy will explode! It will reset the timeline to the Stone Age!"
Saitama paused, fist cocked.
"Stone Age? So... no supermarkets?"
"No supermarkets, Sensei."
Saitama lowered his hand. He looked at the monster that was about to eat the Earth.
"Okay," Saitama said. "Plan B."
He looked at Michaels. "Your city floats, right?"
"Yes..."
"And it has an engine?"
"A Graviton-Time Drive."
"Cool." Saitama grabbed Michaels by the chest-plate. "Tell everyone to get off."
"Why?"
"Because," Saitama pointed at the city. "I'm gonna throw it."
Ten minutes later. Evacuation complete.
Saitama stood in the center of the sinking Golden City. The monster roared above him.
He dug his hands into the foundation of the city. He dug his feet into the tectonic plate below the ocean.
He groaned. His muscles bulged—actually bulged, for the first time in years.
"Serious Series: Serious... Lift."
He didn't lift the rock. He lifted the gravity field of the city.
The entire Golden City—billions of tons of gold and future-tech—ripped free of the ocean floor.
Saitama launched himself upward, pushing the city ahead of him like a shield.
He rammed the Golden City into the mouth of the Time Eater.
"Eat this!"
CRUNCH.
The monster choked on the city. The Graviton-Time Drive inside the city core destabilized on impact.
FLASH.
A massive temporal singularity imploded. The monster, the city, and the localized patch of ocean were sucked into a pinpoint of white light... and vanished.
Dumped into the end of time.
Saitama fell back down from the sky, splashing into the empty hole in the ocean where the water rushed back in to fill the void.
He surfaced, spitting out salty water.
"Blech."
Fubuki flew down and grabbed his arm, pulling him out. "You did it! You banished it!"
Saitama looked sad.
"I really wanted that car," he whispered.
As the team celebrated on the deck of the S.S. Discount, Fubuki noticed something.
Tatsumaki was missing.
She checked the tracker. Her sister was gone.
No note. No psychic trace.
Just a single black box left on her pillow in the med-bay.
Fubuki opened it. Inside was a piece of candy (Tatsumaki's favorite gum) and a simple handwritten note.
"Stop protecting me. I have to kill him myself."
"P.S. Saitama still owes me for the roof."
Fubuki looked out at the horizon. "She went to the source," she whispered. "She went to find God's actual body."
"Genos," Fubuki stood up, the note crushing in her hand. "Set course for the edge of the system. We're going on a road trip."
Saitama was wringing out his wet pants again. "Road trip? Are there snacks?"
"Yes," Fubuki said, her eyes burning green. "We're going to feed God a fist."