The Archangel of Extinction didn't just swing its sword; it swung a fundamental law of physics. The blade was literally made of Entropy—the force that makes everything eventually decay into nothingness.
When it cleaved down, space itself rotted away in its path. Light rusted. Gravity soured.
"Begone, anomaly," the Archangel's voice rumbled, shaking the foundations of the dimension. "Return to dust."
Saitama flew upward to meet the strike. He didn't have a weapon. He had a right hand in a red glove that had a small stain from a hot dog he ate yesterday.
Clang.
Saitama caught the Entropy Sword. He pinched the blade between his thumb and forefinger.
The decay effect tried to spread to him. His glove hissed. The fabric turned grey. Then… it stopped.
"Huh," Saitama said, examining the blade. "This metal feels rusty. You should oil it."
The Archangel's six eyes—each the size of a planet—widened. "Decay... halted? You resist the Heat Death of the Universe?"
"I use moisturizer," Saitama said.
Serious Series: Serious Finger Snap.
He snapped his fingers while holding the blade.
The vibration traveled up the colossal sword. CRACK-SHATTER-PING.
The sword, forged from the death of a trillion stars, shattered into dust. The shockwave traveled up the Archangel's arm, blowing the armor off its shoulder and staggering the cosmic entity backwards.
"One minute, ten seconds," Genos reported from the ground, his optical sensors recording at 10,000 frames per second. "New personal best for dismantling a cosmic superweapon, Sensei."
"Can we go faster?" Saitama landed on a floating chunk of debris. "I think the sale starts at 4."
"It is currently outside of time, Sensei. But relatively speaking, yes."
The Archangel roared. It dropped the useless hilt and opened its mouth. A black sphere formed—a literal localized Big Crunch event.
"YOU MOCK CREATION!" it screamed. It fired the sphere. A laser of anti-reality.
Saitama didn't dodge. He stood firm, planted his feet on the floating rock.
"Killer Move: Serious Punch."
But wait. He stopped mid-motion.
He looked at the rock he was standing on. It was drifting near the team. Fubuki was holding up a shield over Tatsumaki. If he punched now, the recoil would vaporize their island.
He lowered his fist.
"Can't punch," he muttered.
The beam hit him.
BOOM.
The light swallowed him completely. The entire dimension shook. When the dust cleared, Saitama was still there. But he had been pushed back. His heels had carved a trench through the rock. His shirt—the silk one Fubuki bought—was gone, disintegrated. He stood there, bare-chested, smoking slightly.
He looked down at his exposed chest.
"Again," Saitama sighed. "Why is it always the clothes?"
The Archangel charged another blast.
"If I can't punch out," Saitama muttered. "I'll punch in."
He looked at the incoming beam. He didn't brace against it. He dived into it.
Like a salmon swimming up a waterfall of destruction, Saitama flew inside the beam. He parted the energy with his head.
"EXCUSE ME!" he shouted.
He reached the Archangel's mouth in 0.002 seconds.
"SHUT!"
He uppercutted the jaw of the giant entity.
Serious Series: Serious Shush.
The Archangel's jaw slammed shut with the force of two colliding galaxies. The energy building up in its throat had nowhere to go. It backfired.
The Archangel's eyes bulged. Light exploded out of its ears.
GAAAAHK!
The entity imploded. It folded in on itself, consumed by its own anti-reality blast. It shrank rapidly—from cosmic titan to the size of a basketball—and then... pop. Gone.
Silence returned to the Garden of Dead Stars.
Saitama floated down, landing gently next to Genos. He was shirtless, sooty, and looked like he had just finished mowing the lawn.
"Time?" he asked.
"Two minutes, fourteen seconds," Genos said, slightly disappointed. "The wardrobe malfunction cost you seventeen seconds."
"Dammit," Saitama kicked a rock. "Stupid expensive fabrics."
Tatsumaki sat up, rubbing her temples. "Is it dead? Did he punch the ghost?"
"He broke reality to shut it up," Fubuki said, helping her stand. "Standard procedure."
"Well," Tatsumaki huffed, floating up. She looked at Saitama's shirtless form. Her face turned bright red. She quickly looked away. "Put some clothes on, pervert!"
"My shirt disintegrated!" Saitama defended. "Blame the entropy monster!"
Garou walked up, clapping slowly. "Not bad, chrome dome. You made a cosmic deity look like a chew toy."
He looked around the dimension. The fog was lifting. The floating spheres—the trapped universes—were fading.
"The prison is collapsing," Child Emperor warned. "God's anchor here is gone. We need to leave before this place reformats into a null-void."
"The ship!" Fubuki pointed.
The S.S. Discount was hovering nearby, engine sputtering. King was waving frantically from the window.
"Let's go," Saitama said. "Before anyone else tries to monolog—"
The voice wasn't from a monster. It was from the floor.
The floating islands rearranged themselves. They formed a massive, circular platform. And on that platform stood a figure.
He was human-sized. He wore a simple, white martial arts gi. His hair was spiky white. He stood with his hands behind his back, radiating an aura of such intense calmness that the collapsing dimension actually paused to look at him.
Blast.
But... not the Blast from the Hero Association. This Blast's eyes were wrong. They weren't heroic. They were empty. Like holes punched in paper.
"Another copy?" Garou growled, dropping into a stance. "This place loves leftovers."
"No," the Blast-figure said. His voice was smooth. "I am not a copy. I am the Possibility."
He pointed at Saitama.
"Saitama. The Limiter Breaker. I have watched you. You are strong. But strength without technique is just... weight."
He lowered into a stance. It was familiar.
Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist? No. Whirlwind Iron Cutting? No.
It was all of them. Combined. Perfected.
The God Slayer Fist. (The real one. The one Garou tried to reach but failed).
"In every timeline," Possibility-Blast said softly. "You defeat God by brute force. You punch, and you win. But in doing so, you break the world. You are a sledgehammer in a glass shop."
"I am the scalpel."
He disappeared.
He didn't just move fast. He moved between frames.
Bang gasped. "Behind you!"
Possibility-Blast was already striking. A precise finger-jab aimed at Saitama's neck vertebrae.
Saitama spun. But he was too slow. Not physically—his body reacted instantly. But Blast anticipated the reaction before it happened.
Thud.
Saitama stumbled forward. He touched his neck. He felt... a pinch.
"You blocked?" Blast asked, genuinely curious. "With your trapezius muscle? Interesting."
Saitama turned around. His expression was serious now. This wasn't a monster throwing a tantrum. This was a fighter.
"Technique, huh?" Saitama cracked his knuckles. "I know some moves."
He dropped into a crude stance.
"Serious Series: Side Hops."
Saitama hopped side to side rapidly, creating a wall of afterimages.
Blast smiled. "Illusions of speed. Predictable."
Blast walked through the afterimages. He didn't attack. He placed a palm on Saitama's chest.
"Disrupt."
Void Fist: Core Vibration.
A shockwave traveled through Saitama's body. It bypassed his durability, shaking his organs.
Saitama coughed. Not blood. Just surprise.
"That tickles," Saitama admitted. "Like soda bubbles in my stomach."
Blast's eyes narrowed. "Tickles? That technique shatters diamond hearts."
"I have strong abs," Saitama explained. "I do a hundred sit-ups."
"One hundred," Blast repeated flatly. "That is your secret? Calisthenics?"
"And a banana for breakfast."
Possibility-Blast's calm façade cracked. A vein pulsed on his forehead.
"You... you mock the martial way! You mock the effort of aeons!"
The aura around him flared black.
"I will show you the pinnacle of martial arts! The Universal Kata!"
Blast moved. His fists became streaks of starlight. He attacked from every angle simultaneously, bending space to land hits on Saitama's front and back at the same time.
Saitama just stood there. He slapped the attacks away.
Slap. Pat. Swat.
"You're fast," Saitama said. "But you overthink it."
Blast launched a final, desperate kick.
Saitama caught the foot.
"In a real fight," Saitama said, holding the cosmic master dangling upside down by his ankle. "You don't think about katas. You just think..."
He pulled his arm back.
"...about ending it."
Normal Punch.
He punched Blast square in the chest.
Blast flew backward, skipping across the platform like a stone on water. He crashed into a pillar, shattering it.
He lay there, wheezing. The black aura faded.
"You..." Blast gasped. "No technique. No stance. Just... power."
"It's not just power," Saitama said, walking over. "It's focus. You're thinking about timelines and gods and perfection. I was thinking about how much I hate being late."
Saitama reached out a hand.
"Do you want a hand up? Or are we done?"
Blast looked at the hand. The hand of the "monster" who broke the logic of the universe.
"You really are... simple," Blast whispered. A smile touched his lips. "Perhaps... that is the only way to be free."
Blast took the hand. As Saitama pulled him up, the Possibility began to dissolve into light.
"You win, Anomaly. Go. But remember... the real Blast is out there. And he has been hunting God for twenty years. He might not be as friendly as I am."
The figure vanished.
The dimension rumbled. "It's really collapsing now!" Fubuki yelled from the ship ramp. "Saitama! Get on!"
Saitama sprinted for the ship. He leaped onto the ramp just as it retracted.
"Genos! Hit the gas!"
The S.S. Discount fired its nuclear thrusters and shot back through the wormhole, just as the Garden of Dead Stars winked out of existence behind them.
They emerged back in real space, near Saturn's rings.
"We're alive," King breathed, uncurling from the fetal position under the console. "We're actually alive."
Saitama slumped in the captain's chair. "That was tiring."
"We recovered Tatsumaki. We defeated the cosmic avatar. We stopped the dimension eater," Fubuki listed, looking amazed. "It's a complete victory."
"Yeah," Saitama yawned. He rubbed his stomach. "But we missed the sale. Again."
He looked at Genos.
"How much money do we have left from the Hero Association payment?"
Genos checked his internal wallet. "After fuel costs, ammunition, and purchasing replacement pants... we have approximately 8,000 yen."
"8,000?" Saitama perked up. "That's enough for a large hot pot! And soda!"
The mood on the ship lifted instantly. Garou laughed. Bang smiled. Even Tatsumaki, curled in her blanket, let out a small "mph" of amusement.
They set course for Earth.
But as the S.S. Discount drifted toward home, a final transmission blinked on the comms.
It was from the Earth.
It wasn't Sitch. It wasn't the Neo Heroes.
It was Dr. Genus.
"Hello, Saitama Team. If you can hear this... don't come back to City Z."
"Why?" Fubuki asked.
"Because while you were gone... the Undying Vessel didn't just signal God. It signaled the biology of the planet itself."
The screen showed a satellite image of City Z.
It was covered in vines. Massive, pulsating, fleshy vines.
GOD LEVEL THREAT: GAIA, MOTHER OF MONSTERS.
"The Earth is waking up," Genus said terrified. "And She is angry."
Saitama sighed deeply. He looked at his shirtless chest, his bruised friends, his empty wallet.
"First aliens. Then gods. Now the grass is fighting back?"
He cracked his knuckles one last time.
"Alright. Genos, warm up the weed whacker."