The golden giant shield braced itself—clang!
The sturdy alloy shattered under the strike.
Dragon-level monster Meowth's claws turned blood-red, his speed, strength, and hardness all skyrocketing.
His burning eyes locked on Mosquito Girl Christina's neck as he licked his lips, excitement flashing.
He had won.
He could already see the scene of her throat being torn apart, blood spraying everywhere.
But in that instant—time seemed to stop.
Meowth's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
His claws, just ten centimeters from her neck, could not move any further.
"What… what's going on?!"
A faint green aura shimmered around Christina.
"I thought you'd wait until the soup was finished before coming."
Christina pouted slightly.
"Hmph! If I waited till then you'd just slack off again. And Saitama will be home soon!"
Not far away stood Fubuki, dressed in a kitchen apron, spatula in hand, pouting with irritation.
Compared to dealing with Dragon-level monsters, she was more concerned with making soup for Saitama.
"I was just about to wrap this up, but you had to come ruin the fun."
Christina yawned, folding her thin insect wings against her back.
"Come on, Tatsumaki's already handling things elsewhere. She won't run into trouble. What do we do with this cat? Braise it? Steam it? Or… just kill it?"
Fubuki glanced at the floating Meowth, pinned in her psychic grip.
"I heard Master enjoys eating monsters. How about we do half steamed, half braised?"
Christina suggested casually.
Meowth: "…"
A Monster Association cadre—reduced to this? Being discussed like food?
"Meowwwww!"
He tried to roar with rage, but when Fubuki's cold eyes swept over him, his defiance crumbled.
Green psychic power tightened around him, squeezing like an invisible fist.
"Too ugly. Maybe I should just kill it now."
Fubuki said flatly.
The once-proud cadre Meowth whimpered pitifully, his huge eyes brimming with tears, claws folded together as though begging.
He was terrified. Psychic power was too much for him.
If it had been Elder Centipede, maybe he could resist with its shell.
But he was a speed-based monster—his defense was worthless. In Fubuki's grip, he'd pop like a balloon.
"Oh? But it looks kinda cute. Maybe we should keep it."
Christina tilted her head, smiling.
"This? Cute? Fine, but if it misbehaves, I'll add it to the menu."
Fubuki huffed, spatula in hand, and left.
The once-mighty cadre now followed Christina like a pet, tail tucked, eyes wide with fear.
"What about them?"
Christina gestured toward the bloody, unconscious disciples—Iaian, Okamaitachi, and Bushidrill.
Atomic Samurai's students. Though drenched in blood, they still breathed.
"Take them to the House of Evolution. Let Bruce Banner and Genos see if they can be saved. If not, forget it. If yes, Atomic Samurai can pay the bill."
Fubuki yawned, vanishing in a streak of green light.
Christina could only smile bitterly.
As always—when it came to their teacher, Fubuki held the most authority.
Elsewhere.
A dojo.
Like martial arts halls, kendo schools were ancient traditions. But true swordsmen had grown rare.
The most famous now was S-Class rank 3—Atomic Samurai.
As a true swordmaster, his skill was unparalleled.
After his defeat at Saitama's hands, he had secluded himself for half a year.
Now, upon returning, his strength had grown.
But the times were dire.
Monsters attacked daily. Worse—more and more humans were choosing to become monsters.
Even among swordsmen.
To combat the rising Dragon-level monsters, Atomic Samurai planned to form an elite squad of swordmasters.
"Achoo! Someone talking about me?"
In a dim dojo, four top swordsmen sat together.
Atomic Samurai sneezed, rubbing his nose.
Beside him sat veteran masters—an old man with white hair, a scarred middle-aged fighter.
Atomic Samurai was the youngest. Yet his aura was the sharpest.
"Why isn't Ongai here yet?"
Atomic Samurai muttered, a blade of grass between his lips.
As they waited, a chilling voice came from behind the sliding doors.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. But I must decline."
The man who entered was Ongai—a top-class swordmaster.
"Ongai? What's the meaning of this?"
The other masters frowned.
They had gathered to unite against Dragon-level monsters.
Everyone had already agreed. This was just the final meeting.
And now Ongai wanted out?
"Eat this."
Ongai sneered, producing a pulsing monster cell.
"With it, you gain limitless power—beyond human limits. My Iai Slash can sever four heads at once."
His face was already twisting, monster features spreading. His sword hand trembled with anticipation.
The others recoiled. His strength was real. At this distance, his blade could kill.
"Have you lost your mind? A swordsman should fight for justice, not fall to this."
Atomic Samurai said flatly, his face calm, as if stating fact.
"You have four seconds. Four… three… two… one…"
Ongai whispered.
His sword flashed from its sheath—
But another blade was faster.
(End of Chapter)
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