But that didn't mean he slowed down.
Smack!
As he slipped past another strand of spider web, Saitama casually swung his hand out, slapping a bat that had launched itself at him from a tricky angle on the left. It burst like a squashed bug, foul blood and minced flesh splattering all over the face of a spider monster that had just sprung up from the ground.
Right after that, his left foot came down on the ground in what looked like a lazy step, but it directly crushed a spider that had tried to clamp his ankle with its pincers. Using the rebound force, he leapt again, spinning in midair with a whipping roundhouse kick that shattered three bats closing in from different directions into a rain of bones and meat fragments.
His objective had never changed—
That colossal main body behind the hardened wall of purple mycelium, pulsing endlessly in the back.
Every slap, every stomp, every dodge was another small but unstoppable step forward toward that core.
Bat dives? Slap them apart.
Spider encirclement? Kick it open.
Sheets of corrosive web? Walk through them as if on a casual stroll and slip aside.
His movements looked disconnected at a glance, but they carried a suffocating rhythm of violence. Every simple brush of his limbs meant the total end of one monster—often several at once.
"Huff… seriously, is this ever gonna end?"
Saitama even had the leisure to mutter under his breath. Looking at the ever-thickening mass of bodies pressing in, the dead-fish eyes under his shiny bald head held nothing but pure, heavy-bored impatience.
Up above the ruins of the city, Hawkeye, Clint Barton, was hunched over and gasping for breath. His throat tasted of rust and spores, a metallic sweetness mixed with fungal dust. The lingering aftershocks of the high-intensity psychic assaults were like invisible sledgehammers pounding his nervous system again and again.
For a moment, his vision dimmed at the edges, the world twisting and blurring. A low, droning hum still rang in his ears, throwing off even this top-tier marksman's fine motor control in a way he had never experienced before.
After one sharp, deliberate breath, he jerked his head up.
His gaze refocused like a hunting hawk's. The iron will of a master archer crushed the weakness of his flesh and forced his senses back into line.
Half-kneeling behind a broken concrete parapet, Clint quickly swept his eyes across the chaos below:
Captain America's squad was holding a circular defensive formation under the joint assault of the two types of monsters, standing firm like rocks in a raging sea. That eye-catching red figure at the center was carving open a path with something close to brutal, artistic destruction.
But what really made Clint's pupils contract…
Were the few bat creatures that had bypassed the main battlefield entirely. They were crawling along the jagged remains of high-rise walls, silently making their way toward the rear—toward a corner partly hidden by a half-collapsed wall and a giant fallen billboard, where a group of refugees and civilians who hadn't managed to evacuate in time were huddled in fear.
"Not happening."
Clint growled, his movements devoid of the slightest hesitation.
He twisted his waist, drawing his bow in one smooth motion. The heavy military-grade compound bow moved in his hands like an extension of his own body. Three specially-made armor-piercing explosive arrows were nocked onto the string in one fluid gesture, their sharp heads glinting with a cold star-like light in the dimness.
No complicated calculations.
For a top-tier archer whose skills had been forged through countless battles, his muscle memory was the most reliable ballistic computer.
Twang! Twang! Twang!
Three bowstrings sang almost in unison.
The next instant, the three stealthy bat monsters jerked violently in mid-climb, as if struck in their vital points by invisible giant hammers.
Pff! Pff! Pff!
The razor-sharp arrows howled through the air, each one punching in from the slightly weaker side-rear of a monster's skull with terrifying precision. The micro-explosive charges packed into them detonated an instant later, unleashing a second, lethal wave of destruction inside their heads.
Three bursts of blinding fire blossomed within their skulls at the same time, black viscous muck of corrosive fluids and shattered bone spraying outward in all directions.
Three headless bodies, still trailing smoke, toppled heavily toward the ground—
Landing just one step away from the corner where the civilians were hiding.
(End of Chapter)
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