Standing in the very center of the battlefield, Saitama couldn't help but frown.
He lifted a hand and casually waved away the green mist in front of his face, muttering something under his breath—probably along the lines of, "Smells even worse now."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He could also feel those ever-present negative emotions trying to burrow into his mind, like countless ants crawling all over his brain.
But… that was all.
The kind of mental shock that was enough to make ordinary people collapse in an instant—enough to make elite warriors like Steve and Clint feel intense discomfort—slammed into what might as well have been an unbreakable wall of thought.
Saitama's expression barely changed.
All he felt was a mild, "this is annoying" kind of irritation.
Boom!!
A main tendril as thick as a water barrel, covered in slick mucus, suddenly whipped toward Saitama like a gigantic battering ram.
It carried a heavy sonic boom and a dense cloud of corrosive green mist, lunging at him at such speed that it left afterimages in the dim light!
Pa!
A light sound rang out, yet it carried a muffled crack, as if bones and tendons were being twisted apart.
Saitama was still standing where he had been.
He had only casually raised his right hand.
That hand in the yellow glove simply, precisely… closed around the "tip" of the huge mycelium whip that had been screaming toward him!
The massive impact made Saitama's body sink slightly, the soil beneath his feet bursting outward in a circle once again.
But he himself did not budge an inch.
That ferocious, heavy strike had been caught one-handed, as if it were nothing.
The enormous mushroom cap at the center of the park seemed to tremble, as if stunned by this incomprehensible power.
"Oh?"
Saitama squeezed the thick, cold, slippery tendril twisting in his palm, feeling its tenacious, slick texture.
A faintly puzzled look crossed his face, as if he were silently thinking, "This thing feels kind of weird."
However, the monster's counterattack did not end there!
Sss! Sss! Sss! Sss!
Several other thick main tendrils shot out like hunting vipers.
This time, they didn't whip and lash—they stabbed in from all directions, aiming straight for Saitama!
The "mouthparts" at their tips opened and closed like flower buds, spewing out even denser clouds of hallucinogenic green spores, while at the same time firing jets of high-pressure, purple-black viscous liquid—like a barrage of ultra-strong acid cannons!
The air sizzled loudly where the liquid passed, as if it were being eaten away.
Almost at the same moment, the countless pores at the top of the gigantic mushroom cap changed pitch.
The sound shifted from simple, piercing shrieks to a deep, low-frequency hum that seemed to drill straight into the depths of the brain, dragging out every buried fear and despair in one's heart.
Those sound waves ignored physical obstacles, surging out like a tide and crashing into the minds of everyone nearby!
"Ugh…!"
Steve let out a muffled groan, his head splitting with pain.
Scenes from the war he wished he could forget flooded his vision all at once.
His shield almost slipped from his hand.
On the rooftop, Clint gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure it, but the hand holding his bowstring began to tremble uncontrollably…
Standing closest to the core, Saitama finally knit his brows more tightly.
That sound… it felt like countless invisible hands were grabbing his head and shaking it with all their might.
Utterly irritating.
He let go of the tendril in his hand, allowing it to recoil in fright and snap back.
But the other tendrils and the acid jets were already right in front of him!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Saitama's figure blurred where he stood, stretching into several overlapping afterimages in an instant.
His movement pattern was no longer the sharp, angular zigzags from before.
Now his steps were even simpler, more direct—short-range shifts that were practically indistinguishable from flickering teleportation.
Puff, puff, puff!
Multiple streams of corrosive liquid crashed into the spots where he had just been standing, erupting in violent reactions.
The earth and grass there turned black and carbonized in an instant.
But Saitama's figure had already appeared in another position, perfectly slipping out of the coverage range of all the acid sprays.
(End of Chapter)
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