"Fight me?"
The Grandmaster, Gast, froze for a beat, then a strange smile crept across his face.
How many years had it been since he'd heard such a ridiculous joke?
Not just him—the matronly attendant, the rubber-necking crowd—after a moment of silence, the entire arena burst into laughter.
"Is he serious? Does he even know what he's saying?"
"That's the Grandmaster! Sakaar's greatest mind!"
"A crude little cueball like him should be erased—his living is an insult to life!"
"For justice's sake, Grandmaster, please release him… from existence! Hahahahaha!"
Even the usually unflappable Valkyrie frowned. On Sakaar, provoking the Grandmaster was the worst possible move—even if the ruler didn't look powerful at a glance.
But as a Valkyrie, she knew the truth: his strength far exceeded appearances. Otherwise he wouldn't be ruling this world—and the cluster of worlds around it.
"Are you sure, Bald Saitama?"
From his high seat, the Grandmaster stared down at Saitama. In front of everyone, he casually killed the matronly secretary at his side—then an eerie force wrapped the corpse, and she stood up again as if nothing had happened.
Full restoration—one of the Grandmaster's superhuman abilities. If a lifeform has been dead less than thirty hours, he can all but bring it back.
He also possessed an overwhelming mind-sense, tasting any target's emotions and thoughts, the equivalent of top-tier perception—like advanced Observation Haki.
And physical attacks? Nearly useless against him. To Gast, it wasn't the first time some caged, hormone-fried fighter had tried to challenge him.
He simply didn't believe an ant could topple an elephant.
"Of course I'm sure. I've been looking for a really satisfying fight. Don't worry—I won't kill you," Saitama said, kneading his fists, face earnest.
"Kill me?"
Gast blinked.
Everyone did—then the laughter returned, louder than before.
"This cueball's a riot!"
"Poor thing probably doesn't know the Grandmaster is immune to brute force."
"Pathetic… but we haven't had this kind of idiot in ages. Interesting."
"You are a…" The Grandmaster sighed theatrically, pinching the bridge of his nose before smiling oddly. "Pitiful child. Since you are, for now, Sakaar's strongest fighter, I'll grant you this… tragically foolish wish."
He tapped his staff. The high platform descended at speed and slammed to a stop at the edge of the arena floor.
The absolute ruler of Sakaar straightened his collar and strode in, chest high like a peacock.
"Let's begin. I'll show restraint, my brave warrior," he grinned.
Meanwhile—
After raising a legion of the dead, Hela swept Asgard in a brutal purge. Submit and live; resist and die.
Among all Asgard's active warriors, only one spineless bald captain—Skurge—knelt to her.
A pity.
Each day, countless Asgardians died resisting her undead army—slaughtered with merciless methods.
It meant nothing to Hela. Her power drew from Asgard itself, not its people. As long as the realm existed, her strength only grew.
The one thing in Asgard that still tugged at her mind was the Bifrost's god-sword—the key Heimdall carried. Without it, travel to many places became… inconvenient.
But Heimdall had slipped away while she was distracted.
Too much kindness was a weakness; he couldn't bear to watch Asgard's people suffer. He smuggled away crowds of civilians and hid them.
Because of that, even with his sight that could pierce the Nine Realms—and more—he was slowed by the very people he was saving.
"My lady, I've found a few leads. Some civilians say they followed Heimdall and even reached the hiding place. They panicked for their families and fled back. Should we…?" Skurge said with a sycophant's smile.
He feared his new mistress. He had watched her wipe out every Asgardian warrior with his own eyes.
Only Heimdall remained of that once proud host.
This was the Realm Eternal, the greatest domain Odin had used to suppress the Nine Realms—and Hela had butchered all who defied her. Worthy of the name Goddess of Death.
"Heimdall? Interesting. I've heard the name. So he's become Asgard's gatekeeper," Hela smiled faintly.
In her age—the age of Odin and conquest—Heimdall was famed, but far beneath Hela's world-shaking presence.
She didn't care about his legend—only the key he held: the Bifrost sword.
He could see almost anything—but he wouldn't dare look directly at her. Should he try, she would likely feel his gaze and find him.
Hunter and prey. No suspense—only time.
"Indeed. Odin trusted him, and his eyes reach every corner of the cosmos," Skurge said, then risked a glance. "Then, my lady, shall we…"
"Now we go find Loki—Odin's third child," Hela said, raising her hand, a crooked smile tugging at her lips.
"Loki?" Skurge stalled. After a nervous pause: "He's… administrator of the Tenth Realm now."
"The Tenth Realm?" Hela's eyes narrowed.
"Yes. While you were gone, the All-Father fought some outsider—someone beyond the World Tree. After that, Asgard's east and Jotunheim's west fused into a Tenth Realm. Loki serves under that outsider as its administrator."
"And in recent years, he seems to have conquered Jotunheim and more—now the largest dominion under the World Tree," Skurge gulped.
He'd only heard rumors of Odin's battle with Saitama—the blinding Bifrost that spanned the Tenth Realm was impossible to forget.
"Oh? An outsider strong enough that even my poor father failed to defeat him? Odin—so arrogant and blind—actually yielded territory? Hah. Then we should pay a visit. If such a person exists… we'll just kill him."
"Come. Let's meet my dear brother I've never met," Hela smiled. Skurge swallowed and followed.
(End of Chapter)
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