Saitama walked up to the altar and looked it over.
"This thing is the source? Doesn't look very sturdy." As he spoke, he raised his fist.
"Wait! Mr. Saitama!" Namor hurried to stop him. "This ancient altar itself is a historical relic. It was only being used by an evil force. We need to keep it so our scholars can study how to safely purify it—not destroy it. Completely destroying it could trigger an unpredictable energy explosion."
"Oh. I see." Saitama lowered his fist. "Alright then."
After confirming that the dark energy within the Atlantean ruins had been temporarily suppressed—and that the follow-up purification work would be handled by Atlantis's scholars and mages—Saitama declined Namor's enthusiastic hospitality and the planned thank-you banquet. (Mainly because he wasn't used to underwater food, and he was still thinking about the supermarket sale.) Another Quinjet dispatched by S.H.I.E.L.D. brought him back to land.
Not long after he got home, before he'd even finished a cup of tea, that encrypted phone rang again. This time, it was a direct line from the Hero Association.
"Mr. Saitama, emergency mission!" The operator spoke rapidly. "In the Midwest there's a small town called 'Tranquil Town' where an abnormal phenomenon has appeared. A strange, moving gray fog has covered the western part of the town, and it's slowly but steadily expanding. Anyone who enters the fog disappears without a trace, and radio signals can't penetrate it. Right now, we estimate half the town has been swallowed, and casualties are unknown."
"Fog?" While listening, Saitama opened the fridge and checked what he had left. "What kind of fog eats people?"
"We don't know the specifics. Frontline rescue personnel can't get close. The Association has classified this incident as Threat Level: Tiger, and it has an expanding nature, so it needs immediate handling. You're currently the closest S-Class hero—and the one most capable of dealing with this kind of unknown event."
"Got it. Send me the address." Saitama hung up and sighed. "Thought I could rest for once…"
A few minutes later, Saitama appeared on a desolate Midwest highway. According to navigation, "Tranquil Town" was just ahead.
But the town was anything but tranquil.
In the distance, police lights flashed. A long cordon had been set up. Many panicked residents had been evacuated to the perimeter—cries and shouting mixed with frantic chatter.
And farther away, the western half of the town really was completely shrouded in a bizarre fog—thick like heavy gray cotton.
The fog clung and refused to disperse, slowly writhing like a living thing as it expanded outward. It had already swallowed the road and fields outside town. Sunlight couldn't pierce it. Inside was dead silence giving off a spine-chilling sense of total consumption.
Saitama ignored the cordon and, under the shocked stares of police and rescue workers, walked straight toward the fog.
"Hey! Sir! You can't go over there! It's dangerous!" A state trooper tried to stop him.
But Saitama was fast. In just a few steps, he reached the fog's edge. He sensed it slightly, and sure enough—within the fog was that familiar, faint aura of dark energy. It was weak, but it was definitely there.
"So it's these things again… it never ends." He muttered, then stepped into the fog without hesitation.
The moment he entered, visibility dropped to almost nothing—he could only see one or two meters ahead. The air was cold and damp, filled with a disgusting stench of rust mixed with rot. The surroundings were terrifyingly silent, completely cutting off all sound from outside.
(End of Chapter)
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