"…That'll be enough."
A hand appeared before the Grandmaster and clamped down on his corrosive scepter.
"?!!"
The Grandmaster's face changed; the words at the tip of his tongue died as his eyes fixed on Saitama's hand.
Hell.
This scepter could melt organic matter—humans, even a powerful race like Thor's. A normal person would turn to sludge at a touch.
Yet right now, he could clearly see Saitama gripping the scepter's corrosive core. Not only him—his battle-axe of a "secretary" and the Sakaar guards behind her were all stunned.
Thor finally let out a long breath and lay sprawled on the ground, limbs akimbo. With Saitama here, the sky suddenly looked very blue.
"You!"
The Grandmaster's mouth twitched. He tried to yank the scepter back—awkward.
Because Saitama's fingers were locked on the corrosive orb as if welded to it. No matter how hard the Grandmaster pulled, it wouldn't budge.
"Huh?"
Saitama blinked, realized, and let go.
The Grandmaster, face red from straining, staggered and went down on his face—spectacularly undignified. Worse, the precious orb of his scepter now bore five distinct fingerprints, gleaming so brightly it hurt to look.
The arena fell into collective embarrassment.
The Grandmaster… had just done a full-on faceplant in front of Saitama?!
"Hahahahaha! Grandmaster, your dirt-eating form is… impressively professional!"
Bruised and swollen, Thor couldn't help laughing.
The Grandmaster's expression went from bad to worse.
"You injured the Grandmaster! Apologize at once—or be killed!!"
The tigress of a "secretary" roared, and a line of soldiers leveled their weapons at Saitama in perfect unison.
"Sorry. I didn't think you were this weak."
Saitama scratched his head, perfectly earnest.
Pfft—
Valkyrie, mid-swig, sprayed her drink everywhere.
What the hell does "didn't think you were this weak" mean? That… that's not an apology—that's a flex!
Sure enough, the Grandmaster's face turned downright ugly—snarling, furious.
"Excellent. Worth every coin of the fifty million I spent. First-rate goods—just as I hoped."
With a sinister glint, he circled Saitama, looking him up and down.
Saitama stared back, curious. Must be some pre-fight ritual? Whatever. When in Rome—he'd just stand quietly and watch. Heh.
"Rise."
The Grandmaster clawed toward Saitama. At once, Saitama's body floated up of its own accord!
Energy conversion—levitation.
Within a set radius, the Grandmaster could command energy. In that range, he ruled.
The crowd erupted. Their Grandmaster was about to truly shine!
"On this planet, I am the strongest. There is no second."
With lofty pride, the Grandmaster clenched his invisible grip, and Saitama was hurled like a cannonball into a distant wall.
Booming cracks rang out as alloy plates split like paper; Saitama's glossy egg head made the perfect hole-punch through metal.
Still unsatisfied, the Grandmaster swung Saitama like a giant mallet, slamming him madly in every direction.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The explosive impacts made heads tingle. Floors, alloy walls—everything shattered. Even Thor was stunned.
"Your friend's probably dead. The Grandmaster's strong. Sigh."
Valkyrie shook her head and kept drinking. People… why fight fate?
Since losing to Hela, Valkyrie had resigned herself. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't change one truth: she was no match for the Goddess of Death.
That was fate.
Likewise, on Sakaar, the Grandmaster was absolute.
"Maybe… not. Saitama won't die that easily."
Thor swallowed. Experience told him Saitama was anything but simple—this was the monster even Odin had yielded to.
The stands shook with hysterical cheers.
"Pretty dangerous. What was that—telekinesis? Kinda cool."
A lazy, familiar voice came from behind.
Amid stunned stares, stones tumbled in the cratered arena floor—and a figure climbed out of the wreckage.
Valkyrie: "…"
The preening Grandmaster: "…"
The roaring fans and guards: "…"
All sound cut off at once as every gaze snapped over.
Yellow jumpsuit. White cape. Red gloves. And that blindingly smooth, bottle-opener-certified bald head.
Shining in the sun.
Smooth. Flawless.
Saitama dusted himself off with practiced motions. Getting dirty in a scuffle—he was used to it.
"Y-you… how? I clearly just—"
The Grandmaster stared in disbelief. That level of impact could twist and shatter steel. Was this guy's body tougher than steel?
Noticing the polished gleam of Saitama's scalp only made his scalp crawl.
"Oh, I don't like your dirt much. There's a weird smell. Too much trash dumped here before?"
Saitama said seriously.
Back in the One Punch world, soil smelled rich and earthy. But here in this arena—maybe from old blood soaking in and heaps of garbage—the smell was sour. Unpleasant.
The Grandmaster: "…"
"Insult! Blatant insult! He's insulting you, my lord!"
The secretary shrieked herself hoarse.
The Grandmaster's awkward look curdled.
Damn it! Even if it's an insult, don't shout it out loud. Where am I supposed to put my face?
"So—a monstrously strong body, is it? I've heard some races in the cosmos are harder than alloy. I've never seen one till now. Surprising… but nothing more."
The Grandmaster sneered. His eyes went arctic as he spread his arms.
A strange field settled over the entire arena.
Hummmm—
Power gathered fast under his conversion, swirling around Saitama. With a sudden clap of his hands, that energy turned into a transparent, glassy body—
And began to shrink.
"Crap. It's over. Your friend's made him angry."
For once, fear flickered across Valkyrie's face.
A force terrifying enough to dominate the whole zone—being used to compress the very air.
"Relax—hahahaha—I won't let you die comfortably. I'll crush you. Squeeze you into meat paste!!"
The Grandmaster cackled.
Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"What? I'm busy!"
He snapped, annoyed—yet the tapping continued. That damned tigress of a secretary—did she want to get fired?
He whipped around, fury in his eyes—
And froze, his rage replaced by shock.
…
Elsewhere, Loki had men cleaning up the corpses Hela left behind. It seemed the Tenth Realm's grand energy barrier couldn't stop someone of Hela's tier.
Unless he shrank its range—say, to protect only the area around him—but that wouldn't work; the system had been designed to shield the entire domain.
Headache.
"Didn't think Asgard still had a traitor like you. Have you considered kneeling to me now?"
Adjusting his royal garb, Loki smiled at the deathly pale Skurge, whose legs were shaking like sieves.
That bald lackey had been terrified—his mistress Hela had been sneak-banished by Loki!
So now it was just him here in the Tenth Realm? His scalp felt distinctly chilly…
While Skurge quaked and dithered—
Whoosh—
A shrill whistle of air split the silence. Loki's face changed; he twisted aside on instinct.
Clang!
A black spike slammed into his throne. A heartbeat slower and it would have been his skull.
"How impressive. Compared to your foolish brother, I find you more interesting, dear brother."
A graceful silhouette stepped once more into the hall—
Hela, Goddess of Death.
"My lady! I was just about to defeat Loki and rescue you—didn't expect you'd return yourself!"
At the sight of Hela, poor bald Skurge bawled with devotion. Who knew he'd been thinking how to sell her out moments ago.
Hela flicked him a glance, too bored to answer, and sashayed toward Loki, black gown hugging her curves. Faint scorch marks marred the fabric.
Nothing serious—her dear brother had launched an incandescent meteor at her for a full-on face check.
Credit where due: she didn't die. Only a little bedraggled. Then she found her way back.
Loki knew that wouldn't kill Hela. He just hadn't expected… she'd be faster than he'd thought.
"Seems there was a small… accident. Delighted to see you, my dear sister."
Loki smiled awkwardly—and the moment the words landed, he jerked up a hand to call on the Space Stone.
Unfortunately for him, he faced Hela—
A being whose power had reached, perhaps surpassed, the All-Father's tier.
Even with two Stones bolstering him, Loki's strength had grown greatly in this realm—but still… still a bit short.
More precisely: Loki's wind-up for Space Stone tricks was… far too slow before Hela.
A blur of motion like the wind, and Hela's fingers clamped Loki's throat. She smashed him into the wall; his face went purple, eyes bulging.
"Poor brother. You're too cunning. Killing you is simply safer."
Hela smiled cruelly, fingers tightening. Loki flopped like a fish in dry sand, legs kicking as he finally squeezed out a sentence:
"You should look behind you more. In that, you're no different from Thor."
Another Loki appeared behind her, body bathed in crimson light from the half of the Reality Stone Saitama had once given him. His eyes were blood-red, fingertips like knives—
A scarlet spike drove into Hela's back.
The All-Father-tier goddess grunted in pain—and found the Loki in her hand was an illusion.
"Witchcraft?!"
Shock and fury crossed her face.
"Go wander a bit more, dear sister. This time I'll pick you somewhere nicer."
Loki smiled. His other hand commanded the Space Stone. He would banish Hela to a blazing star and let the searing heat kill her.
Of course—
Hela wouldn't die that easily. Otherwise Odin would have killed her long ago. Loki just needed time to handle things.
The Space Stone—what a treasure.
He smiled as spatial power descended. Hela snarled in rage and disbelief at being banished again—
But to Loki's surprise, beneath the fury, her lips curved in a mocking smile.
What—
Schlkk—
A black blade punched through Loki's chest, painting it red.
Loki stared, stunned, at the blade. Cold, dark power seeped through him; he felt his divine strength draining away.
"A fine Space Stone. Thank you for keeping it for me. The Asgard vault is a little barren—needs a few proper trophies on display."
Hela's voice purred behind him.
In her black royal gown she was every inch a queen, mouth tilted in the same teasing smile as before.
Loki was horrified beyond belief, eyes wide, unable to accept it, as Hela pried the Space Stone from his hand.
She slowly pulled the spike from his chest. Blood flowed. She lifted it to her nose, breathed in lightly. "I smell another Stone in your blood? Seems the master of this Tenth Realm treats you well. Pity. I forgot to mention—witchcraft? Frigga's finest child in that art… was me. Hahaha—"
"You!!"
Comprehension crashed over Loki. He was only Frigga's third student; Thor had no interest in the "women's art" of witchcraft. But Hela… her talent outstripped even Frigga's, to a frightening degree.
On that terrifying foundation, Hela had pushed necromancy to unprecedented heights—becoming Asgard's Goddess of Death.
"You can't kill me—hahaha! I belong to Saitama! Saitama is the strongest in the World-Tree—no, in the entire universe!! He's the true king!!"
Loki burst into wild laughter, as if he didn't care about his fate at all, eyes blazing with fanatic madness.
(End of Chapter)
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