The gilded boredom of Saitama's life in the Royal Palace had reached a new, almost meditative, state. He had eaten his way through the entire Royal Cookbook (and had started suggesting his own, often baffling, additions, like the "Spicy Tuna and Strawberry Jam Sandwich"). He had worn a groove in the marble floor of the antechamber from his sock-sliding practice. He had even, in a moment of sheer, desperate ennui, learned how to juggle three of the King's jewel-encrusted goblets, an activity that gave Sir Kaelan a series of minor heart palpitations.
He was a god in repose, a lion in a very comfortable, well-catered zoo, and he was beginning to go slightly stir-crazy.
It was during this period of profound, almost spiritual, listlessness that the first whispers of a new adventure reached him, not through royal decree or a hero's call to action, but through the city's most reliable and creatively dishonest source of information: the rumor mill.
It began subtly. A hushed conversation between two stable hands that Saitama, loitering nearby while trying to teach a horse how to wink, happened to overhear.
"...heard it from a merchant just arrived from the eastern deserts," one stable hand whispered. "A whole city, made of pure, shimmering glass, just… appeared in the middle of the Great Sand Sea overnight!"
"A city of glass?" the other scoffed. "Don't be a fool. It's just a mirage."
"No, he swore it was real!" the first insisted. "And he said… he said the one who could find it and prove its existence would be rewarded with the legendary 'Sunstone Pizza,' a dish so delicious it's said to have been baked by the sun god himself!"
Saitama, whose ears were finely attuned to any and all mentions of legendary, potentially delicious, food items, paused. A pizza baked by the sun god? That sounded… way better than the lukewarm pepperoni slices they served at the palace.
A few days later, while "helping" a gardener trim some hedges (by punching them into perfectly spherical shapes), he overheard two gossiping maids.
"...and my cousin, who serves on a ship," one whispered excitedly, "he saw it with his own eyes! A great, swirling whirlpool in the middle of the ocean, the 'Azure Abyss.' And at its center, a single, lonely island, where they say the 'Kraken's Calamari,' the most tender and flavorful calamari in the world, grows on trees!"
Saitama stopped his hedge-punching. Calamari… that grew on trees? That was scientifically fascinating. And potentially very tasty.
The rumors grew more frequent, more specific, more tantalizingly absurd. A hidden valley in the Jotunheim mountains where giants wrestled for the prize of the "Frost-Giant's Gelato." A floating island held aloft by clouds, home to the "Griffin's Soufflé," a pastry so light it could only be eaten in zero gravity. Each rumor was a perfect, irresistible piece of bait, tailored for a hero whose motivations were equal parts boredom and appetite.
These were, of course, not random rumors. They were the first, subtle, masterfully crafted moves in Sid's new, grand gambit. He was using his burgeoning Shadow Garden intelligence network not for espionage or assassination, but for the most ambitious and ridiculous psychological operation in the history of the world: he was creating a fake, world-spanning side-quest for Saitama.
He had his agents, disguised as merchants, sailors, and gossiping servants, plant these stories, ensuring they would reach Saitama's ears. Each location was real, but remote, dangerous, and, most importantly, completely devoid of the legendary food items described. They were wild goose chases, designed to send the world's most powerful being on a series of long, pointless, and hopefully very distracting, adventures.
Saitama, whose critical thinking skills were often overshadowed by his stomach's, devoured the rumors hook, line, and sinker. The world, which had seemed so boringly small and conquered, was suddenly vast and full of exciting, delicious new mysteries again!
He began to spend his days in the Royal Library, much to the surprise and terror of the royal librarians. He wasn't reading, of course. He was trying to piece together a "Quest Map" on a large table, using a stolen nautical chart, a few tourist pamphlets, and a series of increasingly elaborate drawings of pizzas, gelato, and tree-calamari.
It was during one of these "research" sessions that Princess Alexia found him. She looked at his insane, food-based treasure map, a mixture of amusement and genuine confusion on her face. "Saitama… what in the world are you doing?"
"I'm planning my next adventure!" Saitama announced proudly, pointing a finger at a crudely drawn picture of a volcano erupting with what looked like cheese. "This is the quest for the Sunstone Pizza! It's gonna be epic!"
Alexia stared. She knew the rumors were baseless, flights of fancy. She had her own informants, after all. But seeing Saitama so… animated, so genuinely excited for the first time in weeks, she felt a strange, unexpected pang of… something. Pity? Guilt?
"Saitama," she began, choosing her words carefully, "are you sure these… places… are real?"
"Of course they're real!" Saitama said with unshakeable confidence. "I heard it from, like, five different people! A stable guy, a maid, a guy selling fish… you can't get more reliable sources than that! It's the voice of the people!"
Alexia sighed. She could tell him the truth. She could shatter his newfound hope and send him spiraling back into his pit of profound boredom, a state that was, for the entire kingdom, far more dangerous. Or… she could play along. She could let him have his silly, pointless quest. It would get him out of the palace, out of their hair, and it seemed to be making him happy.
"Well," she said, a small, conspiratorial smile playing on her lips, "if you're going on a grand adventure, you'll need a proper send-off. And perhaps… some supplies."
Her "help" consisted of providing Saitama with a new, even more durable (and pocket-filled) hero suit, a magically enchanted "bottomless" snack pouch (which was really just a very large bag filled with an assortment of trail mix and dried fruit that would probably last him a few days), and, most importantly, the King's tacit, deeply relieved, approval.
King Olric had been informed of Saitama's new "quest." His reaction had been one of profound, almost tearful, relief. "He wants to… leave the kingdom? Voluntarily? To go on a quest for a mythical pizza?" the King had asked, a wild, desperate hope in his eyes. "By all the gods, give him whatever he needs! A ship! A royal escort! A complimentary side of garlic bread! Just… let him go!"
And so, the great departure was arranged. It was a far quieter affair than any of his previous arrivals or departures. Saitama, clad in his new, slightly more practical hero suit, his bottomless snack pouch slung over his shoulder, stood at the docks of Midgar's main port. He had been given passage on a fast, sturdy merchant ship heading east, towards the deserts of Al'Khem, the supposed location of the "Glass City" and the "Sunstone Pizza."
Iris, Lyraelle, and the others came to see him off.
"Be careful, Saitama," Iris said, her expression a mixture of genuine concern and profound relief. "The world is a dangerous place."
"I know," Saitama said seriously. "Might be pirates. Or sea monsters. Or they might run out of snacks on the ship. Gotta be prepared for anything."
Lyraelle just looked at him, her silver eyes holding a deep, enigmatic wisdom. "May your path be clear, Saitama," she said softly. "And may you… find what you are looking for." She knew, somehow, that his quest was not about pizza. It was about something deeper. A search for a purpose, for a feeling, however fleeting, that his life was more than just an endless, effortless victory.
Saitama just gave them a cheerful wave. "Don't worry about me! I'll be back! And when I do," he declared, his voice filled with heroic conviction, "I'm bringing back the best pizza you've ever tasted!"
He boarded the ship, which soon cast off its lines and began to sail out of the harbor, a small, sturdy vessel heading towards a vast, unknown horizon.
As the ship disappeared from view, Alexia stood on a high palace balcony, watching it go. She felt a strange pang of… something. She would miss his bizarre, chaos-inducing presence. But she also knew this was necessary. She turned and looked at the map in her own private study, a map marked not with mythical food, but with the secret movements of the Cult, and the location of the final sacred site. The board was clear. The grand distraction was in motion.
"Bon voyage, you magnificent, oblivious fool," she whispered to the empty sea. "Have fun chasing your ghosts."
In his hidden headquarters, Sid received the report that the Tempest had officially left the continent. He smiled, a genuine, satisfied smile. His plan had worked perfectly. The world's greatest power was now on a wild goose chase, halfway across the globe, leaving the real stage free for the real protagonist.
"The board is clear," he murmured, looking at his own, intricate plans. "The audience is distracted. The actors are in place." He turned to the shadows, where the elite of his Garden awaited his command.
"It is time," he announced, his voice the cool, confident baritone of Shadow. "Let the true hunt for the legacy of the heroes… begin."
The quiet was over. The game was afoot. And the two most powerful beings in the world, on their separate, divergent quests, one for mythical snacks, the other for shadowy glory, were about to reshape the world in ways neither could yet imagine.