Valhalla Intelligence Center. Temporary Tent Structure.
The marble halls are gone. In their place, a high-tech pavilion erected by Hephaestus sits on a floating rock. It smells of anxiety and freshly brewed chamomile tea.
The survivors gather around a scrying pool.
Zeus, arm in a sling.
Odin, sitting on a folding chair.
Hermes, managing the feed.
Shiva, recovering in a wheelchair made of clouds.
Brunhilde, smoking her fifth pack of cigarettes.
"We must know," Odin rasps. His voice is a shadow of its former glory. "We let the anomaly leave. But we must know if there are more."
"More?" Shiva laughs nervously, adjusting his bandages. "One was enough to dismantle our pantheon! If there are more, we pack our bags and move to the Andromeda Galaxy."
"Silence," Zeus commands. "Hermes. Connect the Vision."
Hermes taps a rune. "Calibrating to Earth, Sector Z-City. Following the ether-trail left by the Bald One. But... wait."
Hermes pauses. His monocle glints.
"Readings indicate a second power source. Located in the apartment directly next to the Bald One."
"Next door?" Ares gulps. "Is it his guard?"
"No," Hermes whispers, reading the energy signature. "The readings... they are chaotic. The pressure is immense. It makes the Bald One's signature look like a candle next to a forest fire."
The gods lean in.
The water in the scrying pool ripples.
An image forms.
Earth. Z-City. King's Apartment.
The room is dark. Only the glow of a monitor illuminates the face of the man sitting there.
Blonde hair, slicked back.
Three vertical scars tearing across his left eye—marks of a survivor, marks of a beast.
His expression is one of supreme, terrifying concentration.
But the sound.
That is what catches the gods off guard.
DOOM-DOOM-DOOM-DOOM.
It vibrates through the magical transmission. It shakes the water in the scrying pool.
"What is that sound?" Thor asks, stepping into the tent. Mjolnir begins to tremble in sympathy.
"It is a heartbeat," Hermes interprets, sweat breaking on his brow. "But... the frequency. It suggests a cardiac organ of impossible size or density. It sounds like a war drum beating from the depths of Hell."
In the image, King narrows his eyes. His thumb moves on the controller with micro-precision.
"Die," King whispers.
The gods flinch.
"Die already, you trash," King says, his voice a low rumble. "You think you can challenge me with that level?"
Odin grips his chair. "Who is he speaking to? A god? A demon?"
"He is playing a simulation," Hephaestus analyzes the screen. "A tactical combat simulator. Look at his inputs. They are beyond human reaction speed. He is predicting the AI's movements frames before they happen."
On King's screen, a pixelated monster explodes into gore.
"GGEZ," King mutters. "Too easy."
"G-G-E-Z?" Zeus asks. "Is that an incantation?"
"Grand God Eradication Zone," Hermes translates poorly, terror in his voice. "He calls the battlefield an eradication zone."
The Arrival.
On the screen, a door opens behind the scarred man.
The Bald One—Saitama—enters. The entity that broke Valhalla.
The gods stiffen.
Will they fight? Ares wonders. Is this a clash of titans?
Saitama walks up to King.
Saitama... bows.
(In reality, Saitama is bending over to plug in a controller charger).
The gods gasp.
"He bows?" Shiva whispers. "The Bald Monster... bows to the Scarred One?"
"Did you bring the snacks?" King asks, not looking away from the screen. His tone is demanding. Cold.
"Yeah," Saitama replies. He places the bag of Valhalla chips on the desk. "They're a bit stale. I got into a fight with a fly guy."
"Hmph," King grunts. He reaches into the bag without looking. "Don't interrupt me. I'm on a streak."
"Sorry," Saitama says. He sits on the floor. On the floor! While King sits on the throne (gaming chair).
"It is confirmed," Odin says, closing his eye. A tear leaks out. "The Bald One... he was just the foot soldier. The lackey."
Zeus falls back onto his pillows. The revelation hits him harder than the Serious Punch.
"We fought the servant," Zeus wheezes. "We fought the butler. And we lost."
"Look at his aura!" Ares points at the screen.
In the dark room, the light from the monitor reflects off King's face, casting huge shadows. The DOOM-DOOM-DOOM of his anxiety-riddled heart amplifies as the boss level starts.
To the gods, this is not anxiety.
To the gods, this is an intimidation aura meant to subjugate reality itself.
"The engine..." Hephaestus stammers. "He possesses an internal combustion engine powered by intimidation. If he were to step into Valhalla... the sound alone would liquidate our spirits."
The Confrontation.
On screen, King dies in the game.
"FUCK!" King screams.
He slams the controller on the desk.
The impact rattles the scrying pool in Valhalla.
King stands up. His shadow looms over Saitama.
"This game is broken!" King yells. "The hitboxes are trash! The developers should be erased!"
"He intends to erase the Creators!" Hermes scribbles furiously. "He targets the architects of his reality!"
"Chill out, King," Saitama says, picking up a chip. "It's just a game."
"Just a game?" King turns. The scars stretch. His eyes are wide with adrenaline (fear). "I put infinite effort into this run! Infinite!"
"Infinite," Thor repeats. "He speaks of infinity casually."
Brunhilde turns off the screen.
Her hands are shaking so bad she can't light her cigarette.
"We have seen enough," Brunhilde states.
The Decree.
The atmosphere in the tent is funeral-like.
Zeus stares at the ceiling of the tent.
"New Directive," Zeus announces weakly.
The other gods lean in.
"Earth," Zeus says, "is a nature preserve. A quarantine zone."
He points a shaking finger at Hermes.
"Block the portals. Burn the bridges. If a human dies, send their soul to another dimension. Any dimension. Just not here. I do not want Him coming to retrieve a friend."
"Which one?" Ares asks. "The Bald One?"
"No," Zeus shudders. "The King."
Earth.
"Hey, Saitama," King says, calming down as his heart rate slows. "You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"Thunder. sounded like a thunderclap, but it's sunny outside."
Saitama looks out the window. The sky is clear.
"Probably just the neighbors moving furniture."
King shrugs. He picks up the controller.
"Wanna play? I'll go easy on you."
"Nah," Saitama lies down on the floor, reading a manga. "I'm retired from fighting for today. My arms are tired."
King starts a new game. The Engine purrs.
Doom-doom-doom.
Unaware that billions of light-years away, absolute deities are rewriting their holy texts to include a new commandment:
Thou shalt not disturb the Otaku.