Fighting Pits, VIP cells.
They'd been here a few days—eating well, drinking well, sleeping well.
"Hey, Saitama, looks like it's your turn," Thor shrugged, already wearing the standard fighter's armor.
"Saitama's really that strong? Thor looks kind of scared of him," said their cellmate, the stone-bodied Korg, slow and a bit dopey.
Beside him, the bug-creature Miek chirped and squeaked.
A red mesh of electro-lines split the cells from the outer corridor. Through the glow, a familiar silhouette appeared.
"That woman!"
Thor blurted it out—the one who'd brought him and Saitama in. She was clearly in a good mood, coming by to check on the day's fighters.
"Scrapper 142," Korg said. "One of the famous scavengers around the pits. Almost every week she brings in good fighters… Asgardian."
"Asgardian?" Thor froze—then his pupils clenched tight as he stared at the insignia on the woman's wrist.
An Asgardian Valkyrie!
"You're a Valkyrie! Asgardian—hey! I'm Thor! Prince of Asgard—hey, hey!"
He shouted, but she seemed to know already and couldn't be bothered, giving only a dismissive glance.
For Valkyrie, she was here to bet on fighters she liked. Booze on Sakaar wasn't cheap; after selling fighters and paying for ship upkeep, not much was left.
"I'm up, Thor."
Still in his yellow jumpsuit, white cape, and red gloves, Saitama patted Thor's shoulder and headed out, interested at last.
This world was too boring. Not many could count as opponents. Hopefully Sakaar wouldn't disappoint him.
Seeing Saitama there calmed Thor at once. With Saitama around, it felt… safe.
The arena was a giant funnel. The crowd—and Sakaar's ruler, the Grandmaster—sat high above, looking down on center ring.
In this civilization warped by spectacle, bloodsport was all the rage. The moment Saitama stepped onto the sand, a tidal roar greeted him.
On the dais, Grandmaster Gast rubbed his chin, thinking.
"He asked for the strongest opponent?"
He was speaking to the matronly secretary beside him.
"Yes. By custom, a 'heavy hitter' gets a warm-up match first. You like that Thor kid—he's perfect as warm-up. Only… ten million…"
"Good. Do it," the Grandmaster nodded.
Orders went out.
A vast holo flared overhead as the Grandmaster flamboyantly introduced the bout: the hundred-win champion, codename "Bruiser," versus the bald man, Saitama.
Because Bruce Banner had remained in the One Punch world, there was no Hulk on Sakaar. The reigning champion here was the previous monster—Bruiser.
The arena boiled over in cheers.
"Unlucky. Your friend's in trouble," boomed Korg.
"Squawk," added Miek.
"The only one unlucky is your old champion," Thor smiled with quiet confidence. He wasn't sure about himself these days—but about Saitama? No doubts.
"You sound confident," Valkyrie said through the barrier, taking a pull from the bottle.
"Of course. I've never seen Saitama lose to anyone. It's very possible that… even Odin lost to him once," Thor said, a little embarrassed.
He remembered it vividly—Saitama and Odin fighting so fiercely a planet shattered. After that, Odin put a ban over all Asgard, and Saitama was granted a king-level status.
"Then why not ask him for help?" Valkyrie asked. (She drank again.)
"Uh—right! Why didn't I think of that? What was I thinking!"
Thor yelped.
Maybe the recent beatdowns had rattled him—Hela smashing him, Mjolnir crushed. His mind could only think of asking Asgardians for help, and he somehow… forgot Saitama.
"Too bad. You're both in the Grandmaster's hands now—you won't be getting out," Valkyrie said with a curl of her lip.
"Trust me—Saitama will fix it! You too—come help me, okay?" Thor said.
"I'm not getting dragged into your family mess again! It was all a lie!" Valkyrie snapped, suddenly agitated as if an old wound had been ripped open.
Their talk ended.
The ground sent up faint tremors. The crowd fell silent, eyes pinned to the entry gate.
Spotlights converged.
Even on the dais, the Grandmaster's smile sharpened.
A hulking brute nearly two stories tall lumbered in. His muscles bunched like pythons under his skin, obscene in their size.
Same mold as Hulk—a muscle behemoth. Maybe the Grandmaster had a type.
"RRRAAAHH—KILL! KILL! KILL!"
Bruiser threw back his head and roared, scarlet eyes locked on Saitama. His blackened teeth stank to high heaven.
"The smell's… really not great," Saitama muttered. He'd fought plenty of monsters; this was his first non-toothbrusher.
"An appetizer like you?" Bruiser rasped, voice gravelly. He clenched his massive fists; steel-spiked knuckleguards sparked as he smashed them together. "I'll punch that shiny skull down into your chest, eyesore!"
"All right, begin. Don't keep them waiting," the Grandmaster smiled. "And tell Bruiser—don't kill too fast. Let everyone enjoy it."
Thoom. Thoom. Thoom.
Bruiser advanced, each step a drumbeat, the ground shaking.
He raised that mountain-sized fist; its shadow swallowed Saitama whole.
"Go to hell, cueball!"
He roared, and the fist split the air with a low howl—
BOOM—
A thunderous crash.
The arena shuddered as the fist struck.
…
Everyone watched as the hundred-win champion slowly lifted his fist. Smoke and dust billowed.
Tsking rippled through the crowd. Even the Grandmaster's brow creased.
This guy was getting more disobedient—win a few in a row and he swelled up. He'd told him to ease up and play, but one smash and the fight was over. Killed the fun for the audience.
"What a waste. Next time that drunk woman comes by, we're docking her fee. Five-zero million for a dud? Not worth it," the secretary grumbled.
The Grandmaster, however, kept staring at the black, man-shaped hole in the ground. "Wait. It's not over."
The secretary blinked. So did the cheering spectators.
Under their stunned gaze, a figure slowly climbed out of the crater.
Yellow jumpsuit, white cape, red gloves—standing at Bruiser's side as if nothing had happened.
"Nice. Almost died there," Saitama muttered, brushing dust from his clothes. He even lifted his belt flap and shook dirt out from inside.
Next time he really should improve that part. Dirt always got in there.
Or maybe it was because he kept getting punched into the ground… awkward.
Bruiser: "…"
The muscle monster, fiercer even than Hulk to look at, stared wide-eyed and blood-red at Saitama.
What was going on?
This guy—he'd clearly taken that punch just now, and yet he stood there fine? Hell?
His gaze drifted to Saitama's head.
Shiny. Polished.
What the—?
Hadn't he just smashed the cueball dead-on with a full-face punch? Why did it look perfectly fine now? This was insane.
"Looks like your friend's got something," Valkyrie admitted, interest sharpening as she glanced at Thor.
Thor beamed like he'd won himself, pride all over his face—especially with the stone man and the bug staring in shock. It did wonders for his ego.
"But he might be in trouble. Bruiser is Sakaar's strongest fighter—especially when he's angry," Valkyrie said lightly, long since used to life-and-death, nothing surprising her.
Sure enough—
Saitama tanking his full-power punch without a scratch humiliated the puffed-up hundred-win champion. Bruiser's flesh flushed slowly red; heat poured from his body, white vapors coiling off his skin.
"You look like a big shrimp," Saitama said, peering up. It reminded him of an early-days monster—a red crab-man with a necklace kid.
"Die!"
Bruiser roared. His black alloy knuckleguards turned red-hot. Those special steel spikes could punch through sheet steel, blow up small skiffs or flyers with a single hit.
"Perfect! That's the one! Smash him!"
"I love you, Bruiser!"
"Harder, baby—crush him—oh yeah oh yeah!"
The crowd howled. Anyone who came to these fights wasn't exactly a good person. The bloodier the better—their thrill peaked at the ugliest moments.
BOOM—
An earsplitting blast. Shockwaves kicked up sand across the pit.
Bruiser's feral grin froze.
He stared in horror at the sight before him.
The spiked, razor-sharp knuckleguard fist had slammed into Saitama's hand.
To be exact—
Into one finger.
The bald salted-fish had extended a single index finger and lightly tapped the oncoming thunder-punch.
The raging force stopped dead. If not for the shattered ground at Saitama's feet, many would've thought Bruiser was throwing a fix.
Silence fell.
The boiling crowd went mute, eyes bulging as they gaped at the scene.
Too eerie.
The strongest fighter's full-power strike… stopped like a breeze?
"That's all? You're… a lot weaker than I expected," Saitama murmured, and his finger began to press toward Bruiser.
A terrifying power surged.
Bruiser bellowed, right-arm muscles swelling, veins bulging like little snakes—but it was useless.
No matter how he strained, Saitama's finger kept pressing in, slow and implacable.
Crk—crk—crk—crk—
Soft cracking came from the fist. The forged steel shattered fast, lines spidering out from the point where Saitama's finger touched.
Crk—boom—until the whole thing crumbled.
Saitama flicked.
BOOM—
The "strongest fighter" screamed. His huge body turned into a giant sandbag flung through the air, smashed the bulletproof glass beside the Grandmaster, and embedded in the wall behind him, spread-eagle.
"…Hiss—"
A collective sharp inhale swept the arena.
Every spectator's eyes felt like they'd pop out as they stared at Saitama.
The gap… was way too big.
"Thor, your friend's amazing. He seems a lot stronger than you," Korg said without a filter. Miek chirped madly in agreement.
"Of course. He's Saitama," Thor said, not ashamed at all—actually pleased to be compared to Saitama, even… proud?
Across the barrier, Valkyrie looked at Thor, faintly surprised.
She had no deep feelings for Thor, nor much familiarity. Back when Odin ordered the hunt for Hela, it had been her unit—the Valkyries, Asgard's greatest shieldmaidens.
But in the end, she alone crawled away alive. After that, she left Asgard and drifted among the stars.
So she didn't know the later-born prince well, though she'd heard the rumors—an arrogant braggart. Maybe… not this time?
"But he seems to have made trouble," Valkyrie frowned.
On the dais—
The Grandmaster's secretary had gone chalk white. This was the first time a fighter had blown out the arena's defensive screen.
The Grandmaster's expression turned complicated.
Excited—he'd found a treasure who could fight. Annoyed—because the man didn't seem to respect Sakaar's sovereign.
He was weighing his words when Saitama spoke first.
(End of Chapter)
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