By now, King had almost finished using one Automatic Martial Arts Training Card and was waiting an hour before activating the next.
His eyes flicked over a dozen Muscle Giant characters on the screen, when suddenly Saitama sighed, looking unusually bleak.
"KING… I feel like I'm slowly losing my human emotions. No matter what I do, I can't find that spark anymore."
"You understand too, right? The boredom of one-punch kills… nothing excites me anymore."
King shot him a glance and smiled faintly.
Let's see if you can still say that with a straight face ten minutes from now.
The character-select screen vanished. The match officially began.
Saitama dropped all small talk. He hammered the controller, convinced he was executing stylish combos.
King, however, just observed. In reality, Saitama was mashing buttons—heavy, light, heavy, light—maybe tapping the directional pad twice. Any casual player with half an hour's practice could have crushed him.
In stat-heavy games, raw numbers could let a beginner bulldoze a master. But in a game where stats were nearly equal? Saitama was a stray dog—anyone could land a kick.
After thirty straight rounds, Saitama's smooth cue-ball head reddened. Veins bulged across his forehead. His thumbs blurred like lightning.
King remained utterly calm, even letting go of his controller entirely.
Only when Saitama reduced him to a sliver of health did King start playing for real.
Effortlessly, he chained a single, perfect combo that KO'd a full-health bar. Saitama slumped in defeat.
Beside them, Genos held a notebook in his left hand while his right frantically scribbled notes.
[Teacher KING and friend are engaged in a fierce gaming duel. Though it appears to be a simple fighting game, it is a sophisticated battlefield simulation, honing instinctive reactions under assault.]
[Facing Mr. Saitama's wild onslaught, Teacher KING deliberately keeps his health at the brink, then executes a fluid, frame-perfect reversal at the last moment. This showcases KING's indomitable spirit of rebirth through destruction, and his contempt for the weak as The Strongest Man on the Surface of the Earth.]
Mid-match, King glanced at Genos's frantic notes and immediately felt a wave of black-lined exasperation.
This guy is god-tier… hyping harder than fanboys outside.
"KO!"
The crisp call rang out from the screen. Saitama clutched his head, howled in anguish, hurled the controller aside, and wailed.
"Why can't I pull it off—aaargh!!"
He had lost again. Embarrassingly. King had strung together an unorthodox mini-combo: an infinite jab loop of nothing but basic punches. The muscle-bound alien he controlled dropped dead without Saitama ever being able to unleash his full-meter super.
The feeling of being toyed with to the very edge finally snapped Saitama.
Seeing him tilt so hard, King almost considered offering comfort—when the buzz of a drone sounded outside.
Opening the door, King found only a parcel stamped with the Hero Association logo.
"Quit moping, Saitama—your hero appointment's here!"
"Really?!"
The gloom of crushing defeat evaporated. Multimillion-yen annual salary visions danced in Saitama's head.
He tore the box open with a flick, catching the contents as they fell. A stiff sheet of unfamiliar paper bore flamboyant gold lettering:
[Saitama, for outstanding merit and overwhelming power, is hereby appointed an S-Class Hero of the Hero Association, presently ranked 17th, codenamed "Bald Cape." We eagerly anticipate your contributions to humanity.]
Saitama stared… the bolded characters "Bald Cape" nearly made King burst out laughing.
So it really is that name…
Holding the letter, Saitama slumped, soul-drained. Shame from earlier defeats surged back, now fused with outrage at this humiliating codename. He collapsed again.
"Why something so obnoxious yet fitting?! I'm going to the Hero Association to complain—how can they hand out names like this!"
King packed up, ready to accompany Saitama.
He beckoned Genos, still scribbling furiously:
"Remember what I told you? To become my official pupil, you must reach the top-ten S-Class ranks. First, you need to be a hero."
"Come with me. I'll take you to the Hero Association exam. With your talent, you should enter straight as S-Class."
To qualify as S-Class, one generally needs Demon-level strength—something Genos already possessed. Coupled with his solid combat record, the Hero Association would almost certainly place him there.
"Yes, Sensei!"
Genos snapped his notebook shut and followed King with solemn resolve, as though on a sacred mission.
Just then, King's phone blared an urgent alarm:
[Major disaster in City B: colossal unidentified creature rampaging. Current threat level Demon, rising—projected final level Dragon.]
[Urgent dispatch for nearby S-Class Heroes: proceed immediately to prevent total destruction of City B!]