Hero Association Headquarters - Z-City, Underground Central Command
The towering facade of the Hero Association headquarters gleamed in the midday sun, its upper dome shimmering with reinforced glass, but the true heart of the building lay buried beneath the surface. Dozens of security checkpoints, biometric scanners, and armored lifts descended into the facility's core — a massive subterranean war room where the highest levels of heroism were summoned.
Inside the circular command chamber, dozens of chairs were arranged in tiered rows, surrounding a central podium and display platform. A dozen massive holographic monitors floated above the stage, currently idle. The air buzzed with nervous energy.
Every S-Class hero was present.
Atomic Samurai stood cross-armed near the back, Puri-Puri Prisoner radiated enthusiasm, flexing slightly even when no one was watching. Child Emperor sat on a hovering drone-chair, already analyzing data through his custom tablet. Drive Knight's red visor flickered quietly. Metal Bat leaned against the far wall, tapping his bat on his shoulder with a bored expression. Zombieman puffed calmly on a cigarette, his eyes half-lidded but alert. Flashy Flash sharpened a dagger without making eye contact with anyone. Bang, the stoic Silver Fang, stood tall beside his brother Bomb, both looking grim. Superalloy Darkshine gleamed like a walking bronze statue, calm and composed.
Even Watchdog Man was there — curled up in a corner.
Top-ranked A-Class heroes stood behind the front row, including Iaian, Blue Fire, and Okamaitachi. Behind them, the top three of B-Class and the top three of C-Class filled out the lower tiers.
The only seats that remained unfilled... were five near the back corner.
The Director sat front and center at the head of the table, his eyes narrowed behind wire-frame glasses. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. They had barely a month to prepare for the arrival of something that dwarfed every recorded threat before.
And then —
The heavy doors of the command chamber slid open with a subtle hiss.
Heads turned.
Footsteps echoed — casual, not hurried. Then came… laughter?
A ripple of confusion passed through the room as an unexpected group strolled in with all the urgency of a weekend brunch.
First through the door: a familiar bald head.
"Yo," Saitama said, raising a hand casually.
C-Class Rank 1. Caped Baldy.
But it was the person walking beside him that caused the real stir.
Tatsumaki.
S-Class Rank 3.
The Tornado of Terror. The living natural disaster.
...chatting with Saitama?
The Director's brow twitched. Even Child Emperor paused his data gathering to record the moment.
Behind them came Genos, walking in step with King, followed closely by a calm and composed Fubuki.
The entire room had gone silent.
King nodded politely to the crowd, pretending he didn't notice half the room staring at them. Genos gave a quick scan of the chamber. Fubuki adjusted her gloves and looked around with the poise of a CEO.
The Director narrowed his eyes and muttered under his breath, "That group… they just might be the perfect first-response team."
He cleared his throat loudly, the chamber lights dimming as attention redirected to the central platform.
"Everyone, please take your seats."
The group found their places — Saitama sitting lazily beside Genos and King, who immediately straightened. Tatsumaki hovered into her seat, arms folded, and Fubuki sat next to her sister, Child Emperor, silently observing from across the table.
The lights dimmed further. The monitors came to life.
A satellite feed of deep space filled every screen. A single massive vessel — dark, jagged, and unnatural — crept steadily through the void, its size eclipsing even the largest warships in Earth's archives.
Gasps murmured across the room.
The Director stepped forward.
"This object is on a direct course for Earth. We estimate twenty-five days before it breaches our atmosphere. Its energy signature is... off the charts. Far beyond any Dragon-level threat we've encountered."
He turned slowly, letting the gravity of the situation settle.
"This is no meteor. It's no accident. This... is an invasion."
Silence.
The countdown to war had begun.
Hero Association Main Assembly Hall — 30 Minutes Later
The massive briefing room buzzed with low murmurs as the Director finished outlining every detail of the incoming invasion — from trajectory estimates to worst-case scenarios.
Screens around the perimeter displayed the alien vessel in all its ominous grandeur: a massive, black-armored ship with a diameter of over 9.23 kilometers, floating steadily through the void like a nightmare given form.
The Director tapped his microphone once, silencing the residual murmuring.
"That concludes the full tactical assessment," he said. His voice, cool and commanding, cut through the heavy air.
He let the weight of his words sink in before continuing.
"Now… are there any questions?"
Immediately, several hands rose among the sea of S-Class heroes.
Bang, the aged martial arts master, cleared his throat first, his voice carrying the weight of experience.
"Where are Sky God and Blast?" he asked calmly, though his brow furrowed deeply. "Our two strongest heroes are absent from this very important meeting. Should we assume we'll be handling this invasion ourselves?"
Before the Director could respond, a sharp scoff echoed from another section.
Atomic Samurai leaned forward, arms crossed lazily but eyes gleaming with disdain.
"Hmph. Not like we need them," he said, smirking. "I'll cut whatever monster shows up down to the atom."
Almost instantly, a third voice joined — a voice dripping with restless excitement.
Flashy Flash stood up, his entire body vibrating with kinetic energy, his silver hair practically sparking.
"I was going to say something similar," he said smoothly, "but yes — we don't need them. About time we had some real action…"
The words had barely left his mouth when a visible shockwave pulsed across the room.
Twin psychic auras flared to life — Tatsumaki and Fubuki, standing from their seats, their power rippling like a green hurricane about to snap.
Both sisters spoke in eerie unison, their voices slicing through the assembly:
"What did you just say about Damian?!"
The entire room froze.
Papers flew off tables. Chairs rattled against the marble floors. Several lower-ranked heroes instinctively ducked, sensing a brawl about to explode.
Before the situation could ignite fully—
Saitama moved.
With casual ease, he stood between the sisters, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.
Despite the tremendous psychic forces boiling from their bodies, he squeezed gently — and impossibly — both auras began to diminish, like twin storms calming under a silent command.
Bang, watching with narrowed eyes, stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"Hmm…" he mused. "To tame two raging psychic storms with a mere gesture... interesting."
Atomic Samurai and Flashy Flash both flinched slightly, jolted not just by the power the sisters displayed, but by the casual authority Caped Baldy had over them.
Saitama yawned slightly, scratching his shining head, then looked at the two swordsmen with mild annoyance.
"Relax. Damian — Sky God — is training right now," he said plainly. "But don't worry. He's faster than anyone here and strong enough to stop any threat coming our way."
Tatsumaki and Fubuki, cheeks still flushed with residual anger, visibly calmed at Saitama's words. They both gave him small, appreciative smiles — a rare sight from either psychic powerhouse.
Atomic Samurai scoffed under his breath, clearly unimpressed by the C-Class hero.
He looked away, arms crossed, refusing to acknowledge Saitama's statement.
The Director, seizing the moment of restored order, stepped back up to the podium.
"Ahem. To answer your original question, Bang," he said with firm authority. "Blast is currently off-world, conducting a private investigation. His return is uncertain."
He gestured to the massive screen behind him, still displaying the alien threat looming in space.
"And as Caped Baldy correctly stated—" Saitama muttered under his breath, "Damn, still stuck with that nickname..." —"Sky God is indeed training. I have already confirmed with him personally that he will lead Earth's primary defense."
Bang folded his arms, nodding slightly. "Training, huh? Hmmm… I wonder what kind of training could make Sky God even more terrifying."
The Director, hands folded neatly behind his back, responded crisply:
"That's classified."
From across the room, Child Emperor, who had been silently recording everything with a drone, immediately scribbled a note onto his tablet.
"Classified? I'll find out eventually," he muttered to himself.
The Director sighed, already anticipating a breach of confidentiality.
He clapped his hands together once to refocus the room.
"Any other questions?" he said sharply. "If not, I'll begin issuing team assignments and preliminary orders."
The room fell into a tense silence.
Satisfied, the Director continued, his voice heavier now, more commanding:
"As of now, we have twenty-five days until the expected breach. However, with the possibility of acceleration, we must prepare for contact within as few as eighteen days."
He clicked a remote, the ship's statistics appearing across every monitor.
"This vessel is approximately 9 kilometers wide. We estimate thousands of secondary units will descend — ranging from small assault craft to living bioweapons. Full evacuation and shield procedures will be implemented in every major surrounding city."
He stepped closer to the center of the stage, gaze sweeping over the entire room.
"This is not a routine threat."
"This is not a normal monster invasion."
"This is war."
The tension grew so thick it was almost tangible.
"I expect every S-Class, A-Class, and our strongest B- and C-Class members to train, patrol, and prepare. You will be assigned quadrants to defend — and you will work together."
He narrowed his eyes meaningfully.
"No egos. No rivalries. Only survival."
The room remained silent.
But beneath that silence… the fires of determination were beginning to ignite.
Outside the great fortified windows of Hero Association HQ, the clouds swirled unnaturally.
The first storm winds of an oncoming war had already begun to howl.
Z-City — Upper Atmosphere, Moments Later
High above the Earth, far beyond the awareness of the city below, a lone figure hovered motionless on a golden Nimbus.
Surrounded by a war between two cosmic forces—light and death—Damian Blood remained steadfast, his Kryptonian body caught between the purifying burn of solar radiation and the lethal drain of the Kryptonite crystal suspended inches above his face.
The poisonous green glow hissed against his skin like acid rain. Yet his eyes remained closed. His breathing was slow. Controlled. Deep.
His mind, however, was elsewhere.
Even while enduring this internal storm, Damian's senses stretched far beyond the clouds, tuned perfectly to the world below. Through the haze of Kryptonite radiation, his super hearing focused like a satellite—locking in on a familiar frequency.
He was listening.
To them.
To the Hero Association meeting happening in real-time below.
He heard it all.
The Director's summary. The skeptical jeers from Atomic Samurai and Flashy Flash. The sudden psychic flare from Fubuki and Tatsumaki. Saitama stepping in and calming both sisters effortlessly. The room's stunned silence. The declaration of war.
A small smirk tugged at Damian's lips.
"…They've really started getting along," he muttered, amused by the surreal shift in team dynamics.
Then — silence.
He blinked once.
His super hearing receded, focus narrowing as the soundscape of Earth faded beneath the roar of blood in his ears.
Now, there was only the sun.
He opened his eyes slowly, the green radiation burning like wildfire through his nerves.
"Alpha," he said aloud, his voice hoarse but resolute. "Time?"
The AI's voice chimed crisply inside his mind.
[Current Exposure Duration: 4 Hours. 12 Hours Remaining.]
Damian's smirk returned, lips cracking slightly from the heat and stress. His skin twitched as pain surged in and out of every cell like a living tide.
"Perfect…that's already a 1% increase in all attributes..."
His muscles tensed.
Then relaxed.
He leaned back fully into the Nimbus, eyes drifting closed again, entering a deep meditative state.
Each breath was shallow. Measured.
Each heartbeat rang like a gong through his body.
But even as the radiation burned him from within, Damian's mind remained clear. Sharper than ever.
And as he sat within the crucible, he whispered to the void:
"Every day… I become stronger than the last. Once I conquer Kryptonite… and defeat Boros…We're going to find a Blue Star."
His smile widened — a slow, dangerous grin.
"I want to see what that kind of radiation does to me. No… what it unlocks."
Visions flickered behind his closed eyes — the galaxy is alight with impossible colors. Blue stars. Purple stars. White dwarfs. Giants. Fusion storms ripping through space. The infinite variations of radiation… and power.
If he could reach faster-than-light travel… he could reach them all.
And learn.
And grow.
And evolve.
"Blue sun… purple sun… white sun…" he whispered. "So much left to explore."
His eyes opened again, blazing with a quiet intensity.
He looked directly at the Kryptonite — no longer with fear, but dominance.
His voice was soft. Confident.
"One day… I'll carry you around as a trophy. And if I ever run into another Kryptonian who dares to challenge me or stand in my way of gaining power...They won't even be able to stand near me… let alone stand against my strength."
The wind howled.
The Kryptonite shimmered.
The golden sun bathed his skin.
And Damian Blood — the Sky God — continued his trial, a storm of green and gold, silently defying the very thing that once could kill him.
To Be Continued…