From the giant beast in the Sahara ruins to the dark incarnation in Glenmore, Saitama solved every problem in an almost crushing manner. Bringing him into the "professional hero" system and granting him extremely high operational authority and resource support was undoubtedly one of Director Nick's wisest decisions. It was just that… this hero's "professional ambition" seemed a little different from what most people understood.
"Saitama-san," Phil broke the silence. "About the monster the man in the black robe turned into at the end—did you have any special impressions? Its power level…"
Saitama didn't even open his eyes. "A bit stronger than that tougher guy in the desert last time. Mostly higher attack power." He paused. "But it still wasn't enough to make me get serious and punch."
Phil: "..."
He decided to change the subject. "According to Dr. Fitz's preliminary analysis, the energy signature of that spatial coordinate is extremely ancient and… evil. We may be facing something beyond conventional understanding."
"Oh." Saitama responded, sounding like he didn't care. "Either way, it's getting punched away."
Phil fell silent again. He looked out the window at the rolling sea of clouds, but his mind couldn't settle. The Bermuda Triangle—synonymous with mysterious disappearances—was now tangled up with dark magic rituals. Saitama's fist was certainly powerful, but unknown enemies and bizarre environments always made people uneasy. He could only hope this mission would be like the previous two—resolved quickly and thoroughly beneath Saitama's seemingly casual punch.
But when the Quinjet pierced through the clouds, what lay below was no longer blue seawater, but a stretch of ocean shrouded in an eerie gray-green fog. Even in satellite imagery, this fog displayed abnormal distortion, as if it sealed off reality itself.
"We've arrived," the pilot's voice came through, heavy with tension. "The target coordinates are in the central area of that fog. Probes show intense energy reactions below… and massive life signals! More than one!"
Saitama finally opened his eyes and looked at the ominous fog outside. His face didn't change much—he just rolled his wrist.
"Trouble," he muttered again. But in his eyes, the seriousness belonging to a "professional hero" quietly surfaced. The supermarket special offers… would have to wait.
Thick, almost tangible gray-white fog smothered the entire sea area, sealing it tight. The Quinjet hovered above the ocean surface, its engines humming low—yet it was as if most of the sound had been swallowed by the strange fog. Outside the windows, visibility was less than ten meters—nothing but churning, suffocating gray-white.
"Director Nick, we've entered the designated coordinate zone, but visibility is zero. All detection instruments are suffering severe interference—signals are cutting in and out," an agent reported from the cockpit, staring at a screen that was almost nothing but static, their voice grim.
Inside the cabin, Saitama wore his signature yellow jumpsuit and white cape, staring blankly out the window at the dense fog, as if he found the scenery kind of boring. Natasha and Clint stayed on full alert, weapons in hand. Fitz and Simmons from the science team were sweating as they tried to stabilize the instrument readings.
"Stay sharp. This place isn't right," Nick's voice came through the comms, laced with crackling interference.
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!] [[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]