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# One Punch Summoner: Expanded Edition
## Chapter 1: The Accidental Ritual
It started like any other boring day for Saitama.
No monsters strong enough to make him break a sweat.
No groceries on sale.
No good games releasing.
The bald hero in his yellow jumpsuit and white cape trudged along the cracked sidewalks of Z-City's outskirts, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders slumped in perpetual ennui. The afternoon sun beat down on his shiny head, reflecting light that probably blinded a few passing birds. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees of the abandoned park he was crossing, carrying with it the faint smell of urban decay and distant food carts.
Saitama paused, tilting his head slightly as his stomach growled. He had skipped lunch, hoping to find some excitement today, but as usual, the monsters had been disappointingly weak. Three punches total—one for a slime creature trying to dissolve a convenience store, another for some kind of sentient traffic cone, and a third for what called itself "The Magnificent Malevolence" but turned out to be a man in a cheap costume with spray-painted cardboard wings.
"Man, I hope Genos made something good for dinner," he mumbled to himself, watching an ant carry a bread crumb across the sidewalk with more effort than he'd exerted all day. His cyborg disciple had recently taken up cooking as a way to "maximize nutritional efficiency," which mostly meant lots of steamed vegetables that Saitama choked down out of politeness.
The park had once been vibrant, filled with children's laughter and families enjoying their leisure time. Now, like many areas in the monster-plagued Z-City, it lay abandoned, playground equipment rusting, benches overturned, paths cracked with sprouting weeds. Still, Saitama liked to walk through these forgotten spaces. Something about the quiet desolation matched his internal landscape.
While lazily patrolling the abandoned playground, he noticed something unusual—a large, glowing magic circle sketched into the cracked asphalt. It pulsed with a faint blue light, intricate symbols forming concentric rings around a central star pattern. The design was elaborate, with runes and geometric patterns that seemed to shift slightly when he wasn't looking directly at them.
"Huh. Kids these days with their graffiti," Saitama muttered, scratching his head. He crouched down to examine it closer, one finger hovering over a particularly intricate symbol that resembled a coiled serpent devouring its own tail. "Is this from one of those anime shows? Pretty elaborate."
He stood up, looking around the deserted playground. No sign of whoever had created this strange artwork. Just the rusty swing set creaking in the wind, a half-buried sandbox, and the skeletal remains of a jungle gym.
"Weird place to do art," he commented to no one in particular.
He'd left his hero boots at home—it was supposed to be a casual patrol day—and the pavement felt warm against his bare feet. Without a second thought, Saitama walked right across the circle, stepping directly into its center.
"Wonder if they used glow-in-the-dark spray paint..." he mused, wiggling his toes against the symbol beneath them. "Pretty good quality. Hasn't even smudged."
The moment his foot touched the central star, the entire circle erupted with blinding golden light. The ground trembled beneath him, cracks spreading outward like spider webs. The blue glow transformed into a brilliant gold, then white, then colors Saitama had never seen before and couldn't have named.
"Aw crap," Saitama sighed, not even bothering to shift his stance. His face remained impassive as the light enveloped him, his cape billowing dramatically behind him from a wind that seemed to emanate from the circle itself. "Is this going to be another weird monster thing? I just wanted to get home for dinner..."
Lightning shot up into the sky, forming a pillar of energy that tore through the clouds. The dimensional walls fractured with a sound like shattering glass, a cacophony of otherworldly tones that would have driven ordinary humans to their knees. Saitama stood in the middle of it all, looking mildly inconvenienced as reality warped around him.
Birds flew from trees in panic. In the distance, car alarms began wailing. The earth continued to shake, gentle at first, then with increasing violence.
"Seriously?" Saitama muttered, watching as the magical circle's lines began to crawl up his legs like luminous vines, wrapping around his calves, his knees, creeping upward. He brushed at them half-heartedly, but his hand passed right through the light. "Great. More weird magic stuff."
And then, with a thunderous boom that rattled windows for miles, they arrived.
Nine figures materialized in a perfect circle around Saitama, each appearing in a unique flash of light and energy—red flame, blue lightning, golden sparkles, shadow mist, and more exotic manifestations that defied description.
When the light faded and the dust settled, Saitama found himself surrounded by nine women who radiated power in ways even he could sense. The magical circle beneath them continued to glow softly, now a gentle silver, the tendrils of light connecting Saitama to each of the new arrivals like shimmering threads.
"Um... hi?" he offered, raising one hand in a half-hearted wave, his expression betraying nothing more than mild curiosity.
The women stared at him in various states of confusion, wariness, and outright hostility. For a long moment, nobody moved, the only sound the faint humming of the magical circle and the distant wail of sirens approaching the disturbance.
A woman with multiple arms, adorned in gold and red garments that seemed to shimmer with divine light, was the first to break the silence. Her skin had a soft glow to it, as if illuminated from within, and her eyes held wisdom that seemed ancient beyond measure. She moved with impossible grace despite her multiple limbs, each hand either empty or holding items of obvious ritual significance—a bell, a trident, a small drum. Her voice carried the weight of mountains and the gentle flow of rivers simultaneously.
"I am Durga, Supreme Goddess of War and Protection," she announced, her multiple arms moving in perfect harmony as she gestured. The air around her smelled faintly of sandalwood and lotus. "Who has summoned me from my celestial abode, and for what purpose?" Though her words were formal, there was genuine curiosity in her voice rather than anger.
Before Saitama could respond, another woman stepped forward. Her blonde hair was tied up in an elaborate bun adorned with red roses, and she wore a voluminous red dress that seemed excessive for the summer heat, decorated with intricate golden embroidery and gems that caught the light. Her green eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and her smile was dazzling in its confidence.
"Umu! It seems the stage has been set for my grand entrance!" she declared with theatrical flair, one hand on her heart, the other extended toward the sky in a pose that seemed rehearsed. "I am Nero Claudius, Emperor of Rome! I shall graciously accept your tribute, though you should have prepared a more suitable venue for one of my stature. No matter! My radiance shall transform this humble stage!"
"Hey, I didn't summon anyone," Saitama protested, his hands up in a placating gesture. "I was just walking through this playground. You've got the wrong guy."
A solemn woman in blue and silver armor, her blonde hair tied back in a practical bun, her expression stern and regal, assessed the situation with clear displeasure. Her invisible sword—somehow perceivable despite its transparency—hummed with power at her side. She stood ramrod straight, her posture that of a trained knight.
"I am Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights," she announced, her voice clear and commanding. Her green eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed their surroundings. "What manner of summoning is this? This is not a proper Holy Grail War. These conditions are irregular."
"Holy what now?" Saitama scratched his head, his perpetually bored expression unchanging despite the increasingly bizarre situation.
Another figure floated slightly above the ground, her black and red garments flowing as if underwater. Her dark hair was styled in twintails, adorned with golden accessories, and she carried a bow that seemed to be made of living energy. Her red eyes gleamed with mischief, and she moved with the casual grace of someone who knew exactly how captivating they were.
"Ishtar, Goddess of Venus, at your service," she said with a wink that somehow managed to be both playful and threatening. She floated a complete circle around Saitama, examining him with undisguised curiosity. "Though I'm curious why you've brought me here, little mortal. You don't seem like the usual sort who calls upon me... no desperate love affairs, no scheming for power... how interesting."
"I'm telling you, I didn't bring anyone anywhere," Saitama insisted, growing slightly annoyed as he followed Ishtar's floating form with his eyes. "I just stepped on some weird graffiti."
A woman cloaked in darkness, with piercing blue eyes and an aura of absolute authority, stepped forward. Her staff struck the ground with a sound like thunder, and frost briefly formed at her feet before melting away. Her elaborate dress and armor combined elements of medieval regality with otherworldly materials that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
"I am Morgan, Queen of the Fae Realms," she declared, her voice cold and precise. "And I do not appreciate being summoned without proper protocol or offering. Such disrespect would typically warrant swift punishment." Her eyes narrowed as she studied Saitama. "Though you are... not what I expected."
"Look, lady, I don't even know what a 'fae' is," Saitama said, shrugging, seemingly unimpressed by her threatening demeanor.
A boisterous laugh cut through the tension as a muscular woman with bright clothing and feathers in her hair bounded forward. Her attire was colorful and minimal, highlighting her athletic physique, and her movements were fluid and powerful, like a wrestler or acrobat. Her smile was wide and genuine, her entire being radiating vitality and enthusiasm.
"Hola! Quetzalcoatl, Goddess of Lucha Libre and Good Sisters, has arrived!" she announced, flexing her impressive biceps, grinning broadly. "Where's the festival? I wasn't expecting a summons, but I'm always ready for a good time! Or a good fight!" She looked around the playground with obvious disappointment. "Though this venue is... hmm, lacking in spectators, isn't it?"
Before Saitama could process this, a golden portal opened in the air itself, and through it stepped a woman who radiated such arrogance that even Saitama raised an eyebrow. Her golden armor gleamed blindingly in the sunlight, adorned with intricate patterns that told stories of ancient conquests. Her blonde hair was styled impeccably, and her crimson eyes assessed everyone present as if finding them all wanting. Multiple golden ripples in space floated behind her, each containing the hint of a different weapon.
"You stand in the presence of Gilgamesh, King of Heroes," she declared, her voice dripping with superiority. She looked down at Saitama despite being roughly the same height. "To summon me without permission is to invite death, mongrel. Consider yourself fortunate that I am curious about this irregular situation."
"Who are you calling mongrel?" Saitama asked, narrowing his eyes slightly, the first sign of genuine emotion he'd shown.
A serene woman with a sword at her hip bowed formally. Her traditional Japanese attire—a mixture of warrior and noble garments—was immaculate, and her long hair was tied back in a practical style. Her movements were precise, economical, betraying years of martial discipline.
"I am Uesugi Kenshin, the War God of Echigo," she introduced herself, straightening from her bow. Her voice was calm, measured, but carried authority nonetheless. "I shall serve as your blade in this strange land, though I would know the purpose of my summoning. War approaches?"
"No wars that I know of," Saitama replied. "Just the usual monsters and stuff."
Finally, a woman with short blonde hair and crimson eyes stepped forward, examining her surroundings with childlike curiosity. Her simple white blouse and long blue skirt belied the aura of absolute power that emanated from her. Unlike the others, who clearly worked to project their authority, power seemed to flow from her effortlessly, almost unconsciously.
"I'm Arcueid Brunestud," she said simply, her casual tone at odds with the way reality seemed to bend slightly around her. "This is... interesting. I wasn't expecting a summons today. Or ever, really." She walked up to Saitama without any of the caution the others displayed, peering at his face with innocent curiosity. "You don't look like a magus. Are you some kind of special human?"
Saitama looked around at the nine powerful beings surrounding him, then up at the sky where the magical energy had torn a hole in the clouds, then down at his feet where the silver light still connected him to each visitor, and finally sighed deeply.
"Can any of you make dinner? Because I'm really hungry, and this is probably going to make me late getting home."
The nine divine beings stared at him in stunned silence.
Female Gilgamesh was the first to recover, her face contorting with rage. "You dare speak to me—to US—in such a manner? Do you have any idea of the power gathered here, baldy?"
Something dangerous flickered across Saitama's face. "What did you just call me?"
Before Gilgamesh could respond, they all felt it—a strange pulling sensation centered on their chests. Glowing magical threads, invisible until now, manifested between each of them and Saitama. They pulsed with the same silvery light as the circle beneath their feet, growing brighter when any of them attempted to step farther away from the bald hero.
"What is this?" Artoria demanded, trying to sever the connection with her invisible sword, but to no avail. The blade passed harmlessly through the magical thread.
Durga examined the threads with her many arms, her expression contemplative. "It appears we are bound to this mortal through the ritual that summoned us. These are not mere physical bonds, but metaphysical ones that transcend dimensions."
"So... what does that mean exactly?" Saitama asked, tugging experimentally at one of the threads only to find his hand passing through it.
"It means, bald one," Morgan replied coldly, frost forming around her as her irritation grew, "that we cannot stray far from you, nor return to our realms, until the ritual is complete or the bonds are severed."
"And how do we do that?" Saitama asked, still looking unimpressed despite the frost now creeping toward his feet.
"That... is unclear," Arcueid admitted, tugging experimentally at the thread connected to her chest. Her expression was more curious than concerned. "These bonds are unlike anything I've encountered, and I've been around for a very long time."
Saitama's shoulders slumped even further. "Great. So you're all stuck with me."
"It would appear so," Uesugi confirmed with graceful resignation. "Until fate reveals its purpose in bringing us together."
"Umu! Then we shall make the best of it!" Nero declared, striking another dramatic pose. "Though I require suitable accommodations befitting my status. A palace, perhaps? Or at minimum, a villa with proper bathing facilities."
"Yeah, about that..." Saitama rubbed the back of his head. "I kind of live in a small apartment. Like, really small."
The nine divine beings exchanged glances ranging from outrage to amusement to resignation.
"You're saying the mighty Quetzalcoatl has to squeeze into some tiny human dwelling?" the Feathered Serpent Goddess asked, looking both amused and concerned. "Where will I practice my lucha moves?"
"Unless you want to sleep outside," Saitama offered with a shrug. "There's a park nearby, but the homeless guys might complain."
Gilgamesh's golden portals began opening around her, weapons of all descriptions partially emerging from each ripple in space. "This is unacceptable! I shall—"
But before she could finish her threat, they all felt the ground shake. In the distance, the distinctive roar of a monster echoed across the city, followed by screams and the sound of crumbling buildings.
"Finally, something interesting," Saitama brightened slightly. "I'll be right back."
Before any of them could protest, he leapt into the air, disappearing with such speed that even these divine beings were momentarily stunned. The ground where he had stood cracked from the force of his departure, and a gust of wind followed in his wake, strong enough to make their clothing and hair billow dramatically.
"Did... did he just leave us here?" Ishtar asked incredulously, still staring at the spot where Saitama had been standing just a moment ago.
"I believe he did," Artoria replied, her expression stern but with a hint of curiosity in her green eyes. "His speed surpasses even Servant capabilities."
"How DARE he!" Gilgamesh raged, golden ripples appearing in the air around her. "No one turns their back on the King of Heroes! No one walks away while I am speaking!"
"Are we just going to ignore that he jumped higher than most buildings?" Quetzalcoatl asked, looking impressed despite herself. "That's some serious leg strength!"
Morgan tapped her staff against the ground, drawing their attention. "More importantly, we should determine our next actions. We are bound to that... individual... but that doesn't mean we must stand here like lost children."
"I agree," Durga nodded, her multiple arms folding into various contemplative gestures. "We should learn more about this world while we await his return."
Uesugi had been quietly examining their surroundings, her hand resting lightly on her sword hilt. "This appears to be a world plagued by monsters, based on the sounds in the distance and the state of abandonment around us. A world of conflict."
"Exciting!" Arcueid commented cheerfully, wandering over to the rusty swing set and testing it with one finger. The entire structure groaned under even that light touch. "I haven't been summoned to a new world in ages. Last time was so boring—nothing but stuffy mages in robes chanting all day."
Nero posed dramatically against the setting sun, her red dress catching the light. "Every stage is an opportunity for glory! Even this... playground." She said the last word as if it were foreign to her, which it likely was.
In the distance, they heard a tremendous crash, followed by what sounded like a single punch connecting, and then silence. Birds that had been startled into flight gradually returned to their perches in nearby trees.
"That was... quick," Ishtar observed, floating a few feet higher to peer in the direction of the disturbance.
"Perhaps the threat was minor," Artoria suggested, though her tone indicated she didn't quite believe it.
Moments later, Saitama landed back among them, his expression as bored as ever. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he touched down, creating a small crater in the already damaged asphalt.
"Sorry about that. Just some rhino-looking monster thing," he said casually, brushing a bit of dust from his shoulder. "It was charging through downtown, flipping cars and stuff. Same old, same old."
The nine beings stared at him, reassessing everything they thought they knew about this bald human in the ridiculous yellow jumpsuit.
Durga was the first to speak, her voice carrying a new note of respect. "Perhaps there is more to this summoning than we initially believed. Your strength is... unusual for a mortal."
"Yeah, that's what everyone says," Saitama replied with obvious disinterest. "Anyway, we should probably figure out where you all are going to stay. My place isn't far from here."
Quetzalcoatl bounded forward, slapping Saitama on the back with enough force to shatter concrete. He didn't budge an inch. Her eyes widened with delight. "I like this one! He's strong! Worthy of a goddess's attention!"
"Indeed," Uesugi said softly, her hand still resting on her sword hilt, eyes narrowed in assessment. "What manner of being are you, Saitama-dono?"
"Just a guy who's a hero for fun," he repeated with a shrug, starting to walk away from the playground. The magical threads connecting him to the nine divine beings stretched, then pulled them along, making it clear they had little choice but to follow. "So... anyone hungry? There's a udon place nearby that's having a two-for-one special today."
And that's how the strangest living arrangement in the history of Z-City began—nine divine beings from across the multiverse, bound by ancient magic to a bald hero who just wanted to find some good sales and maybe an opponent who could last more than one punch.
## Chapter 2: Domestic Disarray
The walk to Saitama's apartment building was an experience in itself. The nine divine entities, each accustomed to commanding attention in their own realms, found themselves following a seemingly ordinary bald man through the streets of Z-City as the sun began to set.
"This city has seen much conflict," Durga observed, her now-two arms (she had reduced them for the sake of not attracting even more attention) gesturing toward the various signs of monster attacks—repaired buildings, construction zones, reinforced infrastructure. "The scars of battle are everywhere."
"Yeah, monsters show up pretty regularly," Saitama confirmed, leading them past a convenience store where the clerk did a double-take at the procession of otherworldly beings. "Most aren't that tough though."
"Define 'tough,'" Artoria requested, her invisible sword still at her side despite Saitama's suggestion that she might want to "tone down the whole knight thing" while in public.
"You know," Saitama made a vague gesture, "they go down in one punch. It's boring."
"One punch?" Gilgamesh's tone was skeptical bordering on mocking. "You expect us to believe you defeat enemies with a single strike? What manner of mongrel tales are these?"
"Believe what you want," Saitama shrugged, stopping at a crosswalk and waiting for the light to change despite the street being empty. "I don't really care."
Morgan observed him with calculating eyes. "For a mortal supposedly powerful enough to defeat threats with a single blow, you seem remarkably unconcerned with proving yourself."
"What's to prove?" Saitama asked genuinely, as the light changed and he continued walking.
This response silenced even the haughty Queen of the Fae, who exchanged a glance with Artoria—a rare moment of accord between the usually antagonistic pair.
"Umu! This world has interesting architecture," Nero commented, admiring a particularly sturdy-looking bank building. "Though lacking the grandeur of Rome, there is a certain... functional charm to it."
"It's designed to withstand monster attacks," Saitama explained. "The really big ones can level whole city blocks."
"And you fight these creatures regularly?" Uesugi inquired, maintaining perfect posture as she walked.
"It's my job. Well, hobby. Well, job now too, I guess. The Hero Association pays me," Saitama rambled slightly. "Not much though. Especially compared to the S-Class guys."
"Hero Association?" Arcueid perked up, skipping a few steps to walk beside Saitama. "You mean there's a whole organization of people who fight monsters?"
"Pretty much," Saitama nodded. "They rank heroes from C-Class to S-Class. I started at the bottom but moved up to A-Class recently."
"Only A-Class?" Ishtar raised an eyebrow, floating just above the ground rather than walking. "For someone who claims such strength?"
Saitama's expression darkened slightly. "Politics. And I tanked the written exam."
Quetzalcoatl laughed heartily. "A warrior with muscles bigger than his brain! I like it!"
"I'm not stupid," Saitama protested mildly. "I just don't care about hero theory and all that junk."
They turned a corner into a more modest neighborhood, where apartment buildings stood in neat rows. Signs of monster damage were more evident here—patchwork repairs, scaffolding, construction crews working even as the sun began to set.
"We're here," Saitama announced, stopping in front of a nondescript building that had clearly seen better days. "Fifth floor."
"No elevator, I presume?" Gilgamesh asked with thinly veiled disdain.
"Nope. Stairs only," Saitama confirmed, already heading inside.
The nine divine beings followed, some with resignation (Artoria, Uesugi), some with curiosity (Arcueid, Durga), and others with barely concealed contempt (Gilgamesh, Morgan).
The stairwell was narrow, forcing them to climb in single file. By the third floor, Nero was openly complaining about the "pedestrian accommodations," while Quetzalcoatl bounded up the steps three at a time, clearly enjoying the exercise.
"Be careful," Saitama warned as they reached his floor. "The ceiling's kind of low, and the neighbor gets mad if we make too much noise."
"The King of Heroes does not 'care' about noise complaints from commoners," Gilgamesh declared, her golden armor clinking softly as she walked.
"Yeah, well, the King of Heroes doesn't have to deal with Mr. Takahashi at 6 AM when he's hungover and banging on the wall," Saitama countered, stopping at his door and fishing out a simple key.
He opened the door to reveal his apartment in all its humble glory.
Saitama's apartment was exactly as advertised: small. Incredibly, impossibly, inappropriately small for housing ten people, especially when nine of them were divine beings with varying degrees of spatial awareness and respect for personal boundaries.
The main room was perhaps twenty square meters total, with a simple futon rolled up in one corner, a small TV set against one wall, a low table in the center, and a kitchenette tucked into another corner. A single window offered a view of the neighboring building's wall. A narrow door presumably led to an equally modest bathroom. The walls were bare except for a hero schedule pinned near the entrance and a calendar marking sale days at local supermarkets.
"This is your dwelling?" Gilgamesh asked, her voice dripping with disdain as she surveyed the apartment. "I've had treasure rooms larger than this entire building."
"Yeah, well, rent's cheap," Saitama replied, slipping off his boots at the entrance and arranging them neatly. "Make yourselves at home, I guess."
"Umu! This humble abode shall be transformed by my presence!" Nero declared, striding in as if entering the Roman Colosseum. She spun in a slow circle, her voluminous dress nearly knocking over the TV. "Though it requires significant improvements to reach even the minimal standards for housing an emperor."
Durga, who had thankfully reduced herself to merely two arms for the sake of space conservation, nodded politely. "It is modest, but all dwellings are sacred spaces worthy of respect." She ran a finger over the table, which was surprisingly dust-free. "You keep a clean home."
"That's my disciple's doing," Saitama explained, opening the mini-fridge and examining its sparse contents. "He's kind of a neat freak."
"Disciple?" Artoria inquired, standing formally just inside the door, unwilling to intrude further without invitation.
"Yeah, Genos. Cyborg guy. He should be back soon," Saitama replied, closing the fridge with a sigh. "Not much food though. We'll need to go shopping tomorrow."
"Speak for yourself," Morgan muttered, using her staff to poke at a small pile of manga in the corner. "This is beneath the dignity of the Fae Queen."
"You're welcome to leave," Saitama offered with a shrug. "Oh wait, you can't because of the magic thread things. Too bad."
Morgan's eyes narrowed dangerously, frost beginning to form around her staff until Durga laid a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder.
"We are guests in this realm," the multi-armed goddess reminded her. "Let us behave with appropriate grace."
"I shall require a bed of suitable materials," Gilgamesh announced, looking around as if expecting servants to materialize and fulfill her demands. "Silk sheets of the finest quality, pillows stuffed with—"
"I've got a spare futon in the closet," Saitama interrupted. "And maybe some extra blankets. Otherwise, it's the floor."
Arcueid, meanwhile, had already made herself comfortable on Saitama's futon, bouncing slightly as she tested its firmness. "It's not so bad! Cozy, even." She smiled brightly, red eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've slept in coffins, so this is actually an upgrade."
"Coffins?" Quetzalcoatl raised an eyebrow. "What kind of goddess sleeps in a coffin?"
"I'm not exactly a goddess," Arcueid corrected cheerfully. "I'm a True Ancestor—kind of like a vampire, but not exactly. It's complicated."
This revelation caused several of the others to subtly shift their positions, creating distance between themselves and Arcueid, who either didn't notice or didn't care as she continued exploring Saitama's futon.
"A vampire?" Uesugi's hand drifted to her sword. "In my land, such creatures are yokai to be eliminated."
"Hey, no fighting in the apartment," Saitama warned, his tone suddenly serious. "Last time someone punched a hole in my wall, the landlord threatened to evict me."
"I have no intention of feeding on anyone," Arcueid assured them, still bouncing slightly on the futon. "I've got that under control. Mostly. Unless someone bleeds a lot. Then no promises."
Saitama was about to respond when the front door slid open again, revealing a young man with mechanical arms and a serious expression. His blonde hair was styled in a short, spiky cut, and his face had a permanent intensity to it. The bags he carried suggested he had been shopping.
"Sensei, I've returned with the groceries as promised, and—" Genos froze mid-sentence, his cybernetic eyes rapidly scanning and analyzing the nine powerful women now crowded into his teacher's tiny apartment. His arms immediately transformed into cannon mode, a high-pitched whine indicating they were charging up. "Sensei! Are these intruders? Shall I eliminate them?"
"Stand down, metal one," Gilgamesh commanded, golden portals beginning to open around her. "None may threaten the King of Heroes."
"Your primitive weapons would barely scratch my noble phantasm," Artoria stated calmly, her invisible sword materializing more fully in her grip.
"I would enjoy testing my lucha against modern technology!" Quetzalcoatl grinned, cracking her knuckles.
"Whoa, whoa, everybody calm down," Saitama interjected, stepping between them with a casual wave of his hand. "Genos, these are... uh... visitors. I accidentally summoned them or something while walking through the park. They're stuck with me for now because of magic threads or whatever."
Genos stared at Saitama for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then his eyes methodically scanned each visitor in turn, his arms slowly returning to normal configuration.
"Summoned?" Genos's eyes narrowed as he processed this information. "I see. This must be related to the energy anomaly detected in sector 7-B approximately 49 minutes ago. The Hero Association has been attempting to contact you about it, Sensei."
"Oh, my phone's been on silent," Saitama patted his pockets before pulling out a basic flip phone with several missed calls. "Anyway, this is Genos, my disciple."
"A disciple?" Artoria raised an eyebrow, assessing the cyborg with professional interest. "You train others in your fighting style?"
"He asked really nicely," Saitama shrugged. "Keeps the place clean too."
"Sensei is the strongest hero in existence," Genos declared with absolute conviction, bowing formally to the group. "I have dedicated my life to understanding the source of his power and learning his wisdom."
This statement caused varied reactions among the divine visitors. Quetzalcoatl grinned broadly, cracking her knuckles. Uesugi's hand drifted to her sword hilt again, but this time with professional curiosity rather than wariness. Ishtar floated slightly higher, her eyes sparkling with interest.
"The strongest, you say?" Morgan's voice carried dangerous curiosity. "Perhaps a demonstration is in order."
"Pass," Saitama yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Genos, did you get the eggs that were on sale?"
"Yes, Sensei. I acquired the half-priced eggs, the discounted seaweed, and the bulk rice that you requested." Genos began unpacking groceries, still keeping a wary eye on the visitors. "I also took the liberty of purchasing additional protein sources, as your diet has been lacking in essential amino acids lately."
"Cool," Saitama nodded, helping to put things away in the small kitchen area. The normality of the scene—a teacher and student putting away groceries—contrasted sharply with the nine divine beings watching with expressions ranging from disdain to fascination.
"What manner of servant is this mechanical being?" Nero asked, circling Genos with theatrical interest. "His craftsmanship is impressive, even by Imperial standards. The artisans of Rome would be envious!"
"I am a cyborg, not a servant," Genos corrected, his tone polite but firm.
"Dr. Kuseno rebuilt my body after my family and hometown were destroyed by a mad cyborg," Genos continued, his expression darkening momentarily. "I seek both to become stronger under Sensei's guidance and to eventually find the one responsible for that tragedy."
"A tragic backstory!" Quetzalcoatl exclaimed, slapping Genos on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward several steps. His mechanical limbs whirred as they compensated for the unexpected force. "I like it! Very heroic! Revenge quests make for the best stories!"
"Indeed," Uesugi nodded solemnly, her eyes showing a glimmer of understanding. "The path of vengeance is a familiar one to warriors across many realms. Though I caution you, young cyborg—revenge can consume one's spirit if pursued without temperance."
Genos straightened himself, his golden eyes studying the samurai carefully. "Your words carry wisdom. However, my pursuit is one of justice, not merely revenge."
"Justice, revenge—the line blurs depending on who holds the sword," Morgan observed coolly from her corner, frost patterns briefly forming on the wall behind her before melting away.
Saitama, meanwhile, had begun examining the groceries with far more interest than he'd shown in any of the interdimensional visitors. "Oh nice, you got the good brand of instant noodles. The ones with the little dried egg pieces."
"Yes, Sensei. They were marked down 30% due to an approaching expiration date," Genos explained, meticulously organizing the small refrigerator's contents. "I calculated that we could consume them well before they become inedible."
Durga watched the interaction between master and disciple with thoughtful eyes. "The bond between teacher and student is sacred across all realms. It is heartening to see it maintained even in this world of monsters and heroes."
"Sensei," Genos spoke quietly, moving closer to Saitama as he continued unpacking groceries, "what is your plan regarding these... visitors? The structural integrity of this building cannot sustain this many occupants, especially given the energy readings I'm detecting from them. The one with multiple arms alone is producing enough thermal energy to register on my internal sensors from across the room."
"Yeah, I haven't figured that out yet," Saitama admitted, scratching his chin. "They said they're stuck with me because of some magic circle thing I stepped on. Not really sure what to do about it."
Durga stepped forward, her presence somehow expanding to fill the small room despite her physically compact form. The air around her smelled faintly of incense and ozone, and her steps left brief afterimages of light.
"The ritual bonds will not be easily broken," she explained, her voice carrying both authority and compassion. "We are tied to this man until either the purpose of our summoning is fulfilled or another way is found to sever the metaphysical threads."
"And what is the purpose of your summoning?" Genos asked, ever practical, his scanners continuously analyzing each visitor in turn.
An awkward silence fell over the group, punctuated only by the soft hum of Genos's internal systems and the distant sound of traffic outside.
"That... remains unclear," Artoria finally admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. She stood by the window, her armor catching the last rays of the setting sun. "Traditional summoning rituals have clear objectives—Holy Grail Wars, divine interventions, cosmic balancing acts."
"This one just seemed to... happen," Arcueid added from her comfortable position on Saitama's futon. She rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. "Which is pretty unusual, actually. Summoning is normally super specific—lots of chanting, blood sacrifices, astronomical alignments, that kind of thing."
"Blood sacrifices?" Saitama raised an eyebrow.
"Not always!" Arcueid clarified cheerfully. "Sometimes it's just, you know, your firstborn child or eternal servitude or whatever."
"Great," Saitama sighed, leaning against the kitchen counter. "So you're all just... staying here? All nine of you? In my apartment?"
"It would appear so," Ishtar confirmed with a mischievous smile, floating close enough that her face was inches from Saitama's. "Hope you don't mind sharing, baldy."
A dangerous look flashed across Saitama's face again at the term, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Ishtar didn't notice, but Durga and Artoria exchanged glances of concern.
"I should warn you," Genos said, his voice flat but with an underlying threat, "insulting Sensei's appearance is inadvisable. Those who mock him typically regret it."
"Oh?" Gilgamesh raised an elegant eyebrow, golden portals shimmering behind her. "And what could a bald mortal do that would cause me, the King of Heroes, to feel regret?"
Before anyone could respond, there was another knock at the door, this one tentative and hesitant.
"Saitama! Are you home? I brought that game I was telling you about!" called a cheerful voice from outside. "The one with the new combo system!"
With another deep sigh, Saitama walked past Ishtar and opened the door to reveal a man in a black tank top and jeans, his face partially obscured by a baggy beanie and dark sunglasses despite being indoors. He was holding a gaming console and several game cases, and despite his intimidating physique, his body language suggested nervousness.
"Hey King, now's not really a good ti—"
King froze in the doorway, his famous "King Engine" immediately roaring to life as he took in the apartment full of divine women. The thunderous sound of his heartbeat was audible to everyone present, a rhythmic pounding like war drums that filled the small space.
"S-Saitama," King stuttered, his entire body trembling as his eyes darted from one divine being to another. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. "W-what's going on?"
"The King Engine roars!" Genos observed with respect, standing straighter. "Even in the face of such powerful beings, the world's strongest man shows no fear!"
King looked like he might pass out at any moment, his grip on the game console so tight that his knuckles turned white.
"Who is this warrior whose heart beats with such fury?" Quetzalcoatl asked, genuinely impressed by the sound as she moved closer to examine King. "His battle aura is overwhelming! Like a jaguar before the pounce!"
"This is King," Saitama explained casually, gesturing toward the terrified man. "He's another hero. S-Class. Really good at video games."
"V-video games?" Arcueid perked up immediately, bouncing off the futon with inhuman speed and appearing suddenly at King's side. Her crimson eyes sparkled with childlike enthusiasm. "I love games! Do you have fighting games? Racing games? RPGs? Dating sims?"
King, still trembling but slightly reassured by this unexpectedly normal question, managed to hold up one of the cases he'd brought. "F-Fatal Fury X. It's the new one with the improved combo system and b-balance changes to the grappler class."
"Ooh!" Arcueid bounced on her toes, clapping her hands together in delight. "I played the previous version in an arcade once! I broke the machine though... got too excited during the final round and crushed the joystick." She looked sheepish for a moment. "The arcade owner was pretty upset."
"I too wish to experience this 'gaming' ritual," Nero declared, pushing forward with imperial confidence. Her red dress rustled dramatically as she moved. "The Emperor must excel at all forms of entertainment! The people expect nothing less than perfection!"
Gilgamesh scoffed, crossing her arms over her golden armor. "Such trivial pastimes are beneath me. The King of Heroes does not engage in childish diversions meant to distract the masses from their meaningless existence."
"Afraid you'll lose?" Ishtar taunted with a sly smile, floating slightly higher so she could look down at Gilgamesh. "The mighty King of Heroes, scared of a little competition?"
Golden portals began to open around Gilgamesh again, the air rippling as ancient weapons began to emerge. "The King of Heroes fears no challenge, goddess of mongrels! I simply choose not to waste my valuable time on—"
"If you're gonna fight, take it outside," Saitama interrupted, his voice carrying surprising authority despite its casual tone. "I just got the wall fixed from the last time."
The golden portals wavered, then slowly closed as Gilgamesh turned her glare to Saitama. "You dare interrupt me, mortal?"
"Yeah," Saitama replied simply, meeting her crimson glare with his own impassive gaze. For a long moment, they stared at each other, neither blinking.
To everyone's surprise—perhaps Gilgamesh's most of all—it was the King of Heroes who looked away first.
"Hmph. I shall permit your impertinence. For now," she declared, though her voice lacked some of its earlier conviction.
"Um," King spoke up, still standing awkwardly in the doorway, "should I come back another time, or...?"
"No need," Artoria answered before Saitama could respond. The King of Knights had been observing the interactions quietly, assessing each person present. "I believe a diversion might help ease the tensions of our unexpected gathering. Combat through proxy in these 'video games' seems a civilized compromise."
"I agree with the tiny king," Quetzalcoatl grinned, flexing her impressive muscles. "Though I prefer real wrestling, I'm willing to try this digital version! Will there be submission holds? Flying techniques from the top rope?"
"It's, uh, more of a traditional fighting game," King explained, slowly regaining his composure now that the conversation had turned to his area of expertise. "Two-dimensional plane, special moves activated by specific button combinations, frame-perfect timing for combos..."
As he continued explaining, his voice grew steadier, the "King Engine" gradually quieting to a normal heartbeat. The gaming enthusiast was emerging from behind the terrified façade.
And thus, somehow, what had begun as a cosmic summoning of divine beings ended up as an impromptu gaming tournament in Saitama's tiny apartment, with the fate of multiple dimensions temporarily forgotten in favor of mastering the new juggle mechanics in Fatal Fury X.
King set up the console on Saitama's small TV, his movements precise and practiced. "We'll need to take turns since there are only two controllers," he explained, now fully in his element despite the otherworldly audience.
"I call first match!" Arcueid declared, dropping cross-legged onto the floor in front of the TV. "Who dares challenge the True Ancestor?"
"Umu! The Emperor accepts your challenge!" Nero proclaimed, settling beside her with significantly less grace, her elaborate dress billowing around her. "Though I must warn you, I am a quick learner and natural talent in all endeavors!"
King handed them each a controller, then sat back to observe. "The dragon punch is executed with forward, down, down-forward plus punch. The timing is crucial."
"Is this how warriors train in this realm?" Uesugi asked Saitama quietly, watching the screen with polite curiosity. "Through simulated combat?"
"Nah, it's just for fun," Saitama explained, sitting against the wall with his legs stretched out. "Though King's pretty serious about it. He's ranked nationally or something."
"Interesting," the samurai nodded thoughtfully. "In my time, we had Go and Shogi for strategic thinking. This seems... more direct."
On the screen, Arcueid's character—a muscular wrestler with improbably spiky hair—was already decimating Nero's chosen fighter, a elegant swordswoman whose moves seemed loosely inspired by European fencing.
"No fair!" Nero protested as her character was thrown across the screen for the third time. "The Emperor demands a rematch! I was merely assessing your tactics!"
"Button-masher," King muttered under his breath, though only Genos, standing vigilantly by the door, seemed to hear him.
In the kitchen area, Durga had manifested her multiple arms again and was expertly preparing dinner, having declared the instant noodles "unworthy sustenance for warriors and gods." She moved with graceful efficiency in the small space, chopping vegetables with one hand while stirring a pot with another and measuring spices with a third.
"Your kitchen lacks essential spices," she commented to Saitama. "But I shall make do. The divine can create abundance from scarcity."
"As long as it tastes good, I'm not complaining," Saitama replied, watching as fragrant steam began to fill the apartment.
Morgan and Artoria sat as far from each other as the small apartment would allow, occasionally exchanging glares charged with complicated history. The tension between them was palpable, like storm clouds gathering before a tempest.
"If looks could kill," Ishtar whispered to Uesugi, floating cross-legged in the air, "those two would have destroyed each other ten times over by now."
"Old wounds," Uesugi observed quietly. "The kind that never truly heal, only scar over."
"Hmm? What's the story there?" Saitama asked, overhearing them.
Artoria stiffened, her hand instinctively moving to her invisible sword. "It is not a tale for casual telling."
"She stole my rightful throne," Morgan stated coldly, frost forming around her feet. "Corrupted my child against me. Brought ruin to Britain through her rigid ideals of kingship."
"I did what was necessary for the kingdom," Artoria replied, her voice tight with controlled emotion. "The throne was never yours to claim, Morgan."
"Says the artificial king, created by Merlin's trickery," Morgan sneered. "At least I was born to royalty, not fabricated through magic and deception."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as magical energy began to build between the two ancient enemies.
"Whoa, okay, family drama. Got it," Saitama interrupted, standing up and physically placing himself between them. "No fighting in the apartment, remember? Take it outside if you've got to settle ancient grudges or whatever."
Both women looked momentarily stunned that someone would so casually insert themselves into their centuries-old conflict.
"He's right," Durga called from the kitchen, not looking up from her cooking. "There is a time and place for such confrontations, and this is neither. We are guests in this realm and this dwelling."
After a tense moment, both Artoria and Morgan gave slight nods of reluctant agreement, though neither relaxed their posture.
Meanwhile, Arcueid had soundly defeated Nero in five consecutive matches, and the Roman Emperor was not taking it well.
"The controls are clearly favoring her character!" Nero protested, dramatically throwing herself backward onto the floor. "In a real battle, my imperial might would prevail! This is slander against Rome itself!"
"Don't feel bad," King offered with surprising gentleness. "The wrestler class has an advantage over sword users in this version. The developers still haven't balanced the matchup."
"See? Even the game designers acknowledge the injustice!" Nero immediately seized on this explanation, sitting up with renewed dignity. "I demand a different character!"
"I call next game!" Quetzalcoatl announced, reaching for Nero's controller. "Let me show you how a real goddess of wrestling handles these moves!"
Genos, who had been quietly observing the entire scene while continuously scanning each visitor, finally approached Saitama.
"Sensei, I have completed preliminary threat assessments of our... guests," he said in a low voice. "Their power signatures are unlike anything in my database. Even the Hero Association's highest-ranked S-Class heroes do not register similar energy patterns."
"Yeah, they're pretty strong, I guess," Saitama acknowledged with his trademark indifference. "But they seem okay. Except maybe the golden one. She's kind of full of herself."
"I can hear you, mongrel," Gilgamesh called from across the room, where she had somehow manifested a golden throne-like chair and was watching the proceedings with regal disdain.
"Good," Saitama replied without looking at her. "Then you know what I think."
Another dangerous moment passed as Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed, then unexpectedly, her lips curved into a small, amused smile.
"You are either exceptionally brave or exceptionally foolish," she observed. "I have yet to determine which."
"Probably both," Saitama shrugged.
The apartment gradually settled into an unexpectedly domestic rhythm as evening deepened into night. Durga's cooking—somehow transformed from Saitama's modest ingredients into a feast fit for divine beings—was served on mismatched plates and bowls that Genos hurriedly pulled from cupboards and cleaned.
"This is... acceptable," Gilgamesh declared after tasting the food, which from her was apparently high praise.
"It's amazing!" Arcueid exclaimed, eating with enthusiastic speed. "I usually just drink blood, but this is way better!"
"Please do not discuss blood consumption at the dining table," Uesugi requested politely but firmly, eating with perfect formal manners despite sitting on the floor.
"The spices are unfamiliar but pleasing," Artoria commented, her stern expression softening slightly as she ate. "In Camelot, our fare was hearty but simple."
"Because you let that fool Gawain near the kitchens," Morgan muttered, though there was less venom in her voice than before. Good food, it seemed, had a moderating effect even on ancient hatreds.
As they ate, Quetzalcoatl dominated the video game tournament, her natural athleticism somehow translating to button combinations. King watched with growing respect, occasionally offering technical advice that the goddess of lucha libre absorbed with surprising seriousness.
"Your reflexes are extraordinary," he commented after she executed a particularly difficult combo. "The timing on that was perfect."
"Wrestling is all about timing!" Quetzalcoatl grinned, flexing one arm while continuing to play with the other. "Whether it's a real ring or this little box, the principle is the same. Feel the rhythm of combat!"
Outside, the moon rose over Z-City, illuminating a world that had no idea just how much more complicated it had become in the span of a single afternoon.
As the meal concluded and the gaming continued, Saitama found himself watching the bizarre gathering in his apartment with an unfamiliar feeling. It took him a moment to identify it, so long had it been since he'd experienced it.
Interest. He was actually interested in what might happen next.
Catching his expression, Durga moved to sit beside him, her now-two arms folded serenely in her lap.
"You are smiling," she observed quietly. "It seems rare for you."
"Am I?" Saitama touched his face, surprised. "Huh. Guess I am."
"Perhaps there is purpose in our summoning after all," the goddess suggested, watching as Arcueid and Ishtar argued over controller priority while Nero dramatically reenacted her last defeat, much to King's visible discomfort.
"Yeah, maybe," Saitama conceded. Then his attention shifted as Genos's phone buzzed with an alert.
"Sensei," the cyborg announced, "the Hero Association is reporting multiple monster sightings across the city. They are requesting all available heroes to respond."
The gaming paused. The conversation stopped. Nine divine beings and one bald hero looked at each other.
"Well," Quetzalcoatl grinned, cracking her knuckles enthusiastically, "shall we show this city what real divine power looks like?"
And for the second time that day, Saitama found himself smiling.
***
The monsters had appeared simultaneously in different districts—a coordinated attack unusual in its precision. Reports flooded the Hero Association: a serpentine creature coiling around a skyscraper in the financial district; a swarm of humanoid insects devouring everything in the shopping center; a mountain-sized being of living stone stomping through residential areas.
When the first hero response teams arrived, they found something unexpected: the situation was already under control.
In the financial district, Artoria Pendragon stood calmly in the street, her invisible sword gleaming with holy light as the severed remains of a massive serpent dissolved around her. Businesspeople peered cautiously from office windows as the King of Knights sheathed her weapon with formal precision.
"The threat is neutralized," she announced to the arriving heroes, her voice carrying natural authority. "You may commence cleanup operations."
At the shopping center, Quetzalcoatl and Arcueid were having what appeared to be a competition, counting insectoid monsters as they destroyed them with increasingly flashy techniques.
"Seventeen!" the goddess of lucha libre shouted, suplexing a mantis-like creature into the concrete hard enough to create a small crater.
"Twenty-three!" Arcueid called back cheerfully, moving in a blur of white and gold as she tore through the swarm with bare hands. "You're falling behind!"
In the residential district, the situation was more complex. The mountain-sized monster continued its rampage, apparently immune to conventional attacks. S-Class heroes had been dispatched but were still en route.
That's where Saitama found himself, standing in the street looking up at the creature that blotted out the moon. It resembled a walking mountain, its body formed of living stone, with glowing cracks of magma visible beneath its craggy exterior. Each step crushed cars and cracked pavement, its roars shaking windows for blocks.
"That's a big one," Saitama observed casually.
Beside him, Durga nodded serenely. "Indeed. Its life force is ancient and powerful. It has slumbered beneath the earth for millennia."
"Well, it's awake now and stepping on people's houses," Saitama replied, rolling his shoulders in a cursory warm-up. "Guess I should take care of it."
"If I may," the goddess of war suggested, her multiple arms materializing along with various divine weapons, "perhaps we could approach this as a lesson. Your disciple seems eager to learn your techniques."
She gestured to where Genos stood ready, his arms transformed into cannons, his expression intense as he analyzed the monstrous threat.
"Sensei, its core appears to be protected by layers of metamorphic rock with approximately 8,000 PSI compression strength," the cyborg reported. "Standard attacks will be ineffective against its outer shell."
"Yeah, yeah," Saitama waved dismissively. "It's just a rock guy. Hit it hard enough and it breaks."
As they spoke, Morgan and Gilgamesh descended from the sky, one surrounded by fae lights, the other standing atop a golden flying vessel.
"This creature bears traces of old magic," Morgan observed, her staff glowing with power. "Similar to the earth elementals of my realm, though corrupted by something... darker."
"A worthy opponent, perhaps," Gilgamesh assessed, golden portals opening behind her. "Though still beneath my full attention."
The mountain monster finally noticed the small gathering at its feet. It roared, the sound like an avalanche, and raised a massive foot to crush them.
"I got this," Saitama said, crouching slightly.
"Sensei, allow me to—" Genos began, but Saitama was already moving.
What happened next occurred so quickly that even the divine beings had trouble following it. Saitama launched himself upward, a simple jump that carried him to the monster's head height in an instant. As the creature's foot began to descend, he threw a punch—casual, almost lazy in its execution.
The impact created a shockwave visible to the naked eye, a ripple in the air that expanded outward from Saitama's fist. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. The monster remained whole, its foot still descending.
Then reality caught up to Saitama's punch.
The mountain monster didn't just break—it disintegrated. Starting from the point of impact, cracks spread throughout its entire body, glowing briefly with the same force that had created them. Then, in a cascade of rubble and dust, the creature simply fell apart, reduced to gravel that rained down onto the empty street.
Saitama landed lightly beside Durga, brushing dust from his gloved hand.
"See? Just a rock guy," he said, as if he hadn't just obliterated a being the size of a small mountain with a single punch.
For perhaps the first time since their arrival, all nine divine beings were rendered speechless. They stared at Saitama, then at the mountain of rubble that had been a devastating monster moments before, then back at Saitama.
"That..." Gilgamesh began, seemingly struggling to find words—another first. "That was..."
"Incredible!" Quetzalcoatl finished for her, having arrived just in time to witness the destruction. Her eyes were wide with admiration and competitive fire. "Such power! Such technique! I must wrestle you, bald one!"
"Pass," Saitama replied, already walking away from the scene. "Let's get back. I was in the middle of watching King and Arcueid's rematch."
"Sensei," Genos said, his voice unusually subdued as he fell into step beside his teacher. "I recorded the entire encounter. The force generated by your punch exceeded my measurement capabilities. How... how do you contain such power?"
"I don't know, it just happened after I trained really hard," Saitama shrugged. "Three years of 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10-kilometer run. Every day."
The divine beings exchanged glances of disbelief.
"That's... it?" Ishtar asked, floating alongside them as they made their way through the debris-strewn street. "That's the secret to power that can destroy mountains with a single blow?"
"And no air conditioning in summer or heat in winter," Saitama added. "That part was pretty tough."
"He's either the greatest liar in existence or the most extraordinary mortal I've ever encountered," Morgan observed to Artoria, their earlier animosity temporarily set aside in mutual bewilderment.
"I believe it is the latter," the King of Knights replied quietly. "There is no deception in his eyes—only a profound... emptiness."
Durga, walking on Saitama's other side, studied him with her ancient eyes. "Sometimes the simplest vessels contain the most profound truths," she said cryptically. "Perhaps what appears as emptiness is merely stillness—the eye of a cosmic storm."
"Or perhaps," Gilgamesh interjected, her golden armor catching the moonlight as they walked, "we have been summoned not to aid this mortal, but to save him from himself."
Saitama, oblivious to the philosophical discussion regarding his nature, continued walking, his thoughts already turning to the leftovers from dinner waiting in his refrigerator and the comfortable prospect of watching others play video games until sleep claimed him.
Behind them, emergency vehicles and Hero Association personnel began to arrive, surveying the aftermath with mixtures of awe and confusion. Reports would be filed. Questions would be asked. The world of Z-City was changing, whether it realized it or not.
And somewhere, in dimensions beyond mortal comprehension, greater powers took notice of the strange gathering in this unremarkable city, on this unremarkable world. The threads of fate continued to weave together, creating a tapestry whose final pattern remained hidden even from divine eyes.
The first day of the accidental summoning was coming to an end. Night embraced the city, cloaking the destruction and setting the stage for whatever the new day might bring.
## Chapter 3: Morning Revelations
The first rays of dawn filtered through Saitama's curtainless windows, painting the apartment in soft golden light. The floor was barely visible beneath the tangle of improvised bedding—blankets, coats, and in Gilgamesh's case, a luxurious golden silk sheet she'd pulled from one of her portals after declaring she would "rather die than sleep on common cloth."
Despite the cramped conditions, a strange sort of peace had settled over the apartment. The breathing of nine divine beings and one bald hero created a gentle rhythm, punctuated occasionally by Quetzalcoatl's enthusiastic sleep-wrestling moves or Nero's dramatic dream-soliloquies about Roman glory.
Saitama opened one eye, then immediately closed it again. He was pinned to his futon, unable to move. This was concerning for exactly one reason: nothing had been able to restrain his movement since he'd completed his training regimen three years ago.
Cautiously opening his eye again, he discovered the source of his immobility. Somehow, during the night, several of his divine guests had migrated toward his sleeping area. Arcueid was using his legs as a pillow, one arm flung carelessly across his knees. Quetzalcoatl had sprawled sideways, her head resting on his stomach, snoring loudly. Most alarmingly, Ishtar had nestled against his side, her head tucked neatly under his chin, one arm draped possessively across his chest.
"Um," Saitama said eloquently.
Across the room, Artoria was already awake, sitting in perfect seiza position with her invisible sword across her lap. Her eyes met Saitama's, and she gave him a look that somehow communicated both sympathy and judgment.
"The others will awaken soon," she said quietly. "I suggest you extract yourself before that happens, lest there be... complications."
"Right," Saitama whispered back. "Any suggestions how?"
Before Artoria could respond, the apartment door slid open and Genos entered, carrying grocery bags. The cyborg had apparently gone shopping at dawn, ever diligent in his duties.
"Good morning, Sensei. I have acquired fresh provisions for our expanded household, including—" The cyborg stopped mid-sentence, his optical sensors taking in the scene before him. His free hand immediately transformed into cannon mode, a high-pitched whine indicating charging energy.
"Threat detected to Sensei's honor. Preparing elimination protocol."
"Whoa, whoa!" Saitama waved his free arm frantically. "Stand down, Genos! It's fine! They just... moved in their sleep or something!"
The commotion roused the sleeping goddesses. Quetzalcoatl sat up with a massive yawn and stretch, accidentally elbowing Saitama in the ribs with enough force to crack concrete (he didn't notice). Ishtar blinked sleepily, then realized her position and teleported three feet away in a flash of red light, her cheeks matching her eyes in color.
"I was merely ensuring the anchor point of our summoning remained secure during the vulnerability of sleep," she declared unconvincingly, smoothing her disheveled hair. "A purely practical precaution."
"Sure it was," Morgan commented dryly from her corner where she'd constructed an elaborate nest of shadows. Frost patterns decorated the walls around her sleeping area, slowly melting in the morning light. "And I suppose Quetzalcoatl was 'checking his lung capacity' with her weight?"
"I roll around when I dream of great matches," the wrestling goddess admitted cheerfully, completely unembarrassed. "Last night I was fighting a cosmic jaguar spirit! Did I win? Who knows! The match continues tonight!"
Arcueid simply rolled over, murmuring something about "five more minutes" and "final boss battle," apparently undisturbed by the commotion.
From her precisely arranged sleeping area near the window, Durga observed with serene amusement. The multi-armed goddess had already completed her morning prayers and sat cross-legged on a small mat that definitely hadn't been in Saitama's apartment the night before.
"The unconscious mind seeks protection and comfort," she observed diplomatically. "Even divine beings are not immune to such instincts when in unfamiliar realms."
"Like you weren't watching him all night," Ishtar shot back, still trying to recover her dignity. "I felt your protective aura hovering over this entire dwelling."
"I maintained a spiritual vigil, yes," Durga acknowledged with a slight inclination of her head. "This realm has many unknown threats, and our host has shown himself worthy of divine protection."
"Ladies, please," Uesugi intervened, already fully dressed and apparently in the middle of a sword maintenance ritual. She knelt by the kitchenette, her blade partially unsheathed as she examined its edge with expert eyes. "Let us not begin the day with conflict."
"Too late," muttered Gilgamesh, emerging from her corner where her golden sleeping pavilion was now mysteriously disappearing back into a series of portals. Unlike the others, she appeared immaculately groomed despite having just awakened. "Squabbling like common peasants over sleeping arrangements. Pathetic."
Nero emerged from the bathroom wearing what appeared to be one of Saitama's T-shirts as a makeshift toga, her hair wrapped in a towel. "The bathing facilities in this realm are primitive but functional! I have composed a song about the experience! Ahem... 'Water falls like gentle rain, cleansing Emperor's perfect form—'"
"Please don't," Saitama and several others said in unison.
Nero pouted, her imperial dignity somewhat undermined by the oversized t-shirt and towel turban. "Critics! History will vindicate my artistic expressions!"
Saitama finally extricated himself from Arcueid's sleepy grip and stood up, stretching. "So, uh, anybody figure out how to break this summoning bond thing overnight?"
The question hung in the air as the divine beings exchanged glances ranging from thoughtful to concerned to indifferent.
"I attempted to analyze the metaphysical threads while you slept," Durga said, rising gracefully from her meditation position. "They are unlike any I have encountered in my divine existence. The magic is... older than me." She looked troubled by this admission.
"Older than a primordial goddess?" Artoria asked, her expression grave. "That suggests primordial forces indeed."
"I tried cutting mine with various noble phantasms