The fall was disorienting. For a moment, there was only the rush of wind and a cacophony of screams—mostly from Kazuma and Okarun.
Satoru Gojo landed first, touching down as gently as a feather. He'd barely been falling at all, just enjoying the breeze. "Whee! Now that's an entrance. Ten out of ten."
Sung Jin-Woo landed a moment later, silent as the grave. He crouched, daggers in hand, his blue-glowing eyes already scanning the horizon. His coat didn't even flutter.
Thud. Saitama landed flat-footed, kicking up a small puff of dust. He looked around at the new landscape with a profound sense of disappointment. "Rude," he muttered. "They could've at least added stairs."
Clack-roll. Tanjiro executed a perfect, water-wheel-like tumble, dispersing the impact and coming up into a ready stance, his hand on his blade. He immediately took a deep, shuddering breath. "This... this smell...!"
Splat. "Owwww...!" Okarun groaned, having landed flat on his back. "Definitely... definitely not a dream... Momo's gonna kill me for missing school..."
WHUMP-splat. Kazuma landed face-first in a pile of what looked like... discarded, oily metal parts and some kind of viscous, purple trash. He lay still for a second before letting out a muffled, soul-shattering wail.
"I HATE THIS! I HATE THIS SO MUCH! IT'S IN MY MOUTH! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE IS IN ALIEN TRASH!"
He scrambled to his feet, spitting and wiping his tongue. "Where's my party?! Where's Aqua?! She may be useless, but at least she could have purified this... this... goo!"
The world they had landed in was a city, but one that had been dead for centuries. Towers of rusted, alien metal clawed at a sickly green sky. The ground was a maze of debris and shattered alloys. In the exact center of the plaza they occupied, a large, pulsating blue crystal, about ten feet tall, hummed with a low, resonant energy.
As if on cue, The Arbiter's voice echoed from the sky itself.
"FIRST GAME: CORE DEFENSE. Defend the Nexus Core for one hour. If the Core is destroyed, you fail. Your worlds will be reset. The game begins... now."
A timer appeared, projected against the toxic clouds: 01:00:00.
"One... one hour?" Okarun stammered, his terror palpable. "Defend it from what?"
A sound answered him. A skittering.
It started as one or two clicks, then grew. It was the sound of a million tiny, metal feet on concrete. From the dark alleyways, from the shattered husks of buildings, from holes in the ground, they emerged.
They were "The Scrappers." Each was the size of a large dog, a horrifying fusion of biology and machine. They looked like spiders, but with six, razor-sharp metal legs and a single, fleshy, pulsating red eye set in a chassis of rusted armor.
They ignored the six heroes completely. Their single, glowing eyes were fixed on the Nexus Core. And they began to charge.
"They're... they're like the aliens from the tunnel!" Okarun shrieked, striking a shaky pose. "Get ready!"
Kazuma drew his cheap short sword, his knees knocking together. "There are thousands of them! We're gonna die! I'm too young and handsome to be eaten by robot-spiders!"
Tanjiro was the first to move. His fear was overshadowed by the clear, simple objective. Protect!
"We have to stop them! That's the mission!" He drew his black blade. "Water Breathing, Fourth Form: Striking Tide!"
He flowed through the first wave like water over rocks, his blade severing metal limbs and spraying black oil. He was effective, precise, and immediately overwhelmed. "There are too many! I can't get to all of them!"
Meanwhile, the "Power Trio" just watched.
Gojo was leaning back, hands in his pockets. His Infinity was active, and dozens of Scrappers were piling up a few inches away from him, running against an invisible, absolute barrier. "Hmm. Ugly," he mused, tapping his chin. "And no Cursed Energy at all. They're just... things. Kinda boring."
Jin-Woo, on the other hand, was analyzing. He watched Tanjiro fight, watched the Scrappers move. "Their joints are organic," he said, mostly to himself. "The red eye is the weak point." He hadn't moved. He was assessing his "team," and he was not impressed.
Saitama watched Tanjiro frantically trying to defend the Core. He watched Gojo posing. He watched Kazuma screaming and Okarun shaking. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"Guess I gotta," he mumbled.
A massive wave of Scrappers, hundreds strong, surged past Tanjiro's defense, heading straight for the crystal.
"Look out!" Tanjiro yelled, trying to double back.
Saitama just stepped in front of the wave. "Hey. Stop that."
He didn't wind up. He didn't call out an attack. He just... punched.
"Consecutive Normal Punches."
What happened next was not a fight. It was an extermination. A hurricane of displaced air and pure, kinetic force erupted from Saitama's fists. The plaza was scoured clean. The entire wave of Scrappers—and the wave behind that, and the one behind that—was reduced to a fine mist of scrap metal, black oil, and organic goo.
The skittering stopped. The plaza was silent, save for the hum of the Core.
Tanjiro froze mid-stance, his blade dripping. "He... he just... with his fists?"
Kazuma, who had been hiding behind a piece of debris, slowly lowered his hands from his eyes. "......HUH?!"
Okarun's jaw was unhinged. "Whoa... that's... that's like Turbo-Granny's speed... but with... punching..."
Jin-Woo's eyes narrowed, the blue glow intensifying. That force. It wasn't magic. It wasn't a skill. It's... pure, physical power. He's not a Mage. He's not an Assassin. What... what IS he?
Only Gojo seemed to understand. Or at least, to appreciate. He burst out laughing, a wild, delighted cackle. "HAHAHA! YES! I knew it! I knew you were interesting, Baldy! You're amazing!"
"Don't call me Baldy. My name is Saitama."
"The game isn't over," Jin-Woo said, his voice a low growl. The timer still read 00:52:14.
As if summoned by his words, the ground shook. The smaller Scrappers were back, but this time, they were skittering away.
A sound like a foghorn from hell blasted across the city. A building a block away imploded as something massive pushed its way through.
A "Scrapper Behemoth."
It was the size of a skyscraper, a walking fortress of the same rusted metal. It had a dozen legs, and its "eye" was a massive, glowing red furnace.
"Oh," Saitama said, cracking his knuckles. "A big one."
"NO, NO, NO!" Gojo yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. "My turn, Saitama! Don't you dare one-punch this one! This one's mine!"
"Don't be foolish," Jin-Woo countered, his daggers already in a reverse grip. "We don't know its capabilities. Wasting energy is a mistake."
Gojo ignored him. In a flicker, he was gone, teleporting half a mile away to land on the Behemoth's "head." "Hey, ugly! Look up!"
The Behemoth adapted. Its armor plating shifted, and a dozen cannons swiveled... not at Gojo, but past him. At the Nexus Core.
They all fired at once. A volley of white-hot plasma beams streaked across the sky.
"Crap!" Saitama said, tensing to jump. He was too far. Gojo was on its head.
"Tch." Jin-Woo was closest. He didn't move to block. He lifted one hand. "Ruler's Authority."
It was an invisible, telekinetic force. He shoved the volley of beams. He wasn't strong enough to stop them, but he was skilled enough to redirect them. The plasma barrage veered five degrees to the left, missing the Core and vaporizing an entire city block in a blinding flash.
"It's targeting the Core!" Tanjiro yelled. "We have to distract it!"
"DISTRACT IT?!" Kazuma shrieked. "IT'S A WALKING MOUNTAIN!"
"He's right!" Okarun yelled, his body starting to vibrate. "We have to... oh no... oh no... it's... THE TURBO-GRANNY IS COMING!"
In a blur of motion, Okarun launched, his body possessed by the phantom. "AAAAAAAAA!" he screamed, rocketing up the Behemoth's leg at supernatural speed.
"Hahaha! This is a mess! I love it!" Gojo cackled from its head. He raised his hand. "Let's see how you like this! Cursed Technique Reversal: Red!"
He fired the orb of repulsive force point-blank. The explosion was immense, staggering the Behemoth and blowing a car-sized crater in its armor. But it wasn't a kill shot.
The monster roared, shaking its head, and prepared to fire again.
"You guys are taking too long," Saitama's voice said.
He had simply... jumped. He was standing on the Behemoth's chest, right over its furnace-eye. "My turn."
He pulled back his fist.
"Normal Punch."
The Behemoth imploded. The shockwave was so powerful it blasted the toxic clouds apart, letting the sickly green sunlight shine through. Gojo, Okarun, and Jin-Woo were sent flying. Gojo and Jin-Woo caught themselves with their powers, landing gracefully. Okarun landed in the same pile of trash as Kazuma, who had fainted again.
Silence. The timer read 00:48:30.
The skittering returned. The small Scrappers, undeterred, began to swarm again.
"That was the big one, right?" Saitama asked, landing next to the Core. "Can we go home now?"
Jin-Woo landed beside him, sheathing his daggers. "No. We have 48 minutes. And you three," he motioned to Saitama, Gojo, and himself, "are drawing too much attention. The system is adapting to our power. You just forced it to escalate from 'pests' to 'garrison-killer' in ten minutes. Stop showing off."
"He's right, Saitama-kun," Gojo said, landing on his other side, that infuriating grin back. "You end the party too quick. We need strategy. You can't just one-punch everything."
"Strategy?" Kazuma said, having woken up and crawled out from under Okarun. "I have a strategy! It's called 'Let the three god-mode freaks handle it while the rest of us hide'!"
Tanjiro sheathed his blade, his heart pounding. "No. The shadow-man is right. We need to work together." He looked at the three of them, the strongest beings he'd ever met. "They're just bugs... but they're smart. They attack the Core, not us."
He took a deep breath, and for the first time, spoke with command.
"We need to defend, not just attack. Gojo-san, Jin-Woo-san... you're the fastest. You can intercept the next Behemoth before it even gets close. Saitama-san... you're the strongest. Please... stay here. You are the Core's last line of defense. Okarun-san, Kazuma-san... you and I will handle the small ones that get through. We can do this."
It was the first moment of a true alliance. Jin-Woo and Gojo looked at each other. They hated being told what to do, especially by a "weakling." But the logic was sound.
Gojo shrugged. "Fine. But I get to make my interception very flashy."
Jin-Woo just nodded curtly. "Efficiently."
A new foghorn echoed in the distance. Another Behemoth was coming.
"Positions," Jin-Woo ordered.
The Nexus Six, a reluctant, chaotic, and terrifyingly overpowered team, turned to face the horde. The first game was far from over.