No one noticed the instant it began.
A bestial scream tore out of the attendant's throat as the Reality Stone flooded up her arm and into her body. Scarlet lines raced across her skin; even her pupils and mouth began to glow.
"Not good! Get back, now!" Thor shouted.
Her body clearly couldn't withstand the Stone's power—she was about to blow.
Even Loki, of the Frost Giants, had only dared to bear half a Reality Stone. Saitama wasn't the only one in history to touch one; others had, too—and most were destroyed by the Stone itself.
Terrifying energy bled off the woman.
"Die! Let's all die together!"
She shrieked, and her body detonated. Power surged in every direction. Thor, Loki, the Collector—everyone recoiled in panic.
An Infinity Stone backlash.
Saitama, standing nearest, simply raised a hand. Time seemed to snag, the moment turning eerily delicate.
Space power.
Borrowed from the Space Stone through innate absorption, it peeled the surrounding space away from the blast—ten flawless cubes bloomed into existence. The roar and the shockwave were locked inside them. Everyone saw blinding light rip through those boxes, but felt no impact at all.
Perfect space—absolute defense.
"..."
The cramped room fell silent. Even the Collector stared, dumbstruck.
"He…stopped a Reality Stone detonation?!" the Collector breathed. The entire blast had been caged in a tiny volume—the pressure must have been monstrous.
"That was close. A shame about the woman," Saitama murmured.
The floating cubes shrank, compressing the explosive fury until it was strangled into nothing. At last, a single droplet of liquid crimson fell.
Saitama caught it. The perfectly fluid Reality Stone balled up as if in fright, trembling in his palm.
"Troublesome thing. Keep it for us," Saitama said.
The Collector froze for several seconds before he reacted. He hurriedly took the Stone. "Rest assured—it will be perfectly safe with me!"
"Good. And watch your own safety, too. Plenty of people covet this," Saitama said.
"Thank you. As for death—I do not fear it, sir," the Collector replied, slipping the Stone into a special case and then personally escorting them to the door with extreme deference.
Only after Saitama's party left and the vault door sealed did he let out a long breath and collapse into a chair. His back was soaked with cold sweat; his face was a knot of emotions.
"Brother…"
He had smelled his brother's aura on Saitama. Odds were, the Grandmaster had been killed by that man.
But the power Saitama had just shown—just the tip of the iceberg—was too overwhelming. Even for a rare being like the Collector, defeat felt certain. Bare-handling the Reality Stone?
Madness. Anything organic the Stone touched should be invaded at once. Why had it not invaded him?
Ridiculous.
"Saitama!! You've forced my hand!"
Hatred burned in his eyes as he stared after the vanished figures—then dropped to the Reality Stone in his grasp.
If Saitama hadn't killed his brother, he might have safeguarded it for a time out of curiosity. But now…he had to do something.
The case around the Stone split in his hands. Liquid scarlet spilled free—and, as if discovering a new continent, it drilled into his flesh in a single rush.
"AAAHHH—!"
His roar rolled across the hollow Celestial skull, raw with fury and madness.
—
Out in the void beyond Knowhere, Saitama and the others stood on a drifting meteor.
"We part here, Loki. The Tenth Realm is yours," Saitama said, waving.
"Leave it to me, Saitama-dono. I'll keep the Tenth Realm—and the whole World Tree—in perfect order. Besides, I have the king of Asgard to help me, don't I?" Loki said.
Thor winced, then nodded. "I'll cooperate with Loki."
If not for Loki and Saitama, Asgard would have been annihilated. His kingship was, frankly, picked up off the ground.
"Alright. I'm off," Saitama said.
Bifrost pillars speared down from the heavens—the Tenth Realm's Heimdall had opened the bridge. Their silhouettes dissolved into light.
—
Earth.
A wild, boundless sweep of forest, savanna, and desert.
Southern Africa—byword for poverty and neglect. Even most mercenaries avoided it.
"Oo-oo-oo-oo—For Wakanda!"
"For Wakanda!! Oo-oo-oo-oo—!"
From not far off came savage cries. Dark-skinned warriors with spears and crimson armor clashed in the dust—an elite phalanx of gleaming, bald-headed women.
They faced a herd of hulking brutes, each as tall as a single-story house, plated in shadowy, iron-hard armor.
"General Okoye! There are too many armored rhinos—far beyond estimates! We need air support!"
A Dora warrior, soaked in blood and heaving for breath, sprinted up. All around, comrades were flung into the air by the massive beasts—yet their "thin" armor held, tough as if woven from something far stronger.
"This is outside the mirage veil. Air support is strictly forbidden," Okoye said, voice cold, bearing unshakable.
To the world, Wakanda was a poor, backward country. At the recent UN summit, when King T'Chaka and Prince T'Challa attended, they were mocked as primitives from a third-rate nation.
But at that same summit, the old king had died in a terrorist attack. T'Challa had taken the throne as Black Panther.
Second in strength only to the Panther, Okoye had led her unit out to corral these armored rhinos and bring them home. She hadn't expected the numbers to be this high. Casualties mounted—though, thankfully, none fatal yet.
Okoye stared down the raging herd. Inside Wakanda, a few energy volleys would fell them, but here—outside—they couldn't deploy such tech. It made everything harder.
After a beat of grim silence, she bit down a decision. "Move! Fall back!"
Messengers sprinted to relay the order. The line began a fighting retreat.
Okoye turned to pull the rear…and frowned.
"Who is that? Why hasn't he withdrawn?"
Far ahead, a single shining bald head still stood among the armored rhinos.
(End of Chapter)
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