The cleanup in City Q took hours.
Association drones swept the ruins for survivors and residual threats. Medical teams in hazmat suits pulled dazed civilians from collapsed shelters. News helicopters hovered at a respectful distance now—too afraid to get closer after witnessing what three S-Class heroes (and one anomaly) had done to three Dragon-level monsters in under twenty minutes.
Nova sat on a chunk of shattered concrete at the edge of the former industrial zone, elbows on knees, watching the activity. His suit was in ruins—half the fabric melted or torn away—but his body looked untouched. No burns. No cuts. The blue glow had faded to a subtle undercurrent, like bioluminescence under skin.
Genos approached first, boots crunching over glass.
"Your performance data exceeded all projection models," the cyborg said without preamble. "The multiplier climbed to at least 5,000× during the final strike on the Swarm Queen. My sensors could not accurately quantify the upper bound."
Nova glanced up. "You got a number for 'I don't know yet'?"
Genos tilted his head. "Negative. But Doctor Kuseno is already requesting a full biometric scan. He believes your physiology may no longer qualify as strictly human."
A dry chuckle escaped Nova. "Tell him I'll think about it."
Metal Bat jogged over next, still shirtless, bat slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Dried ichor streaked his chest and arms.
"Yo! You good, man?" He grinned wide. "That last punch on the big bug mama? Felt that shockwave from three blocks away. My spirit was screamin' 'hell yeah!'"
Nova nodded. "Feeling pretty good. You?"
"Never better. Fight like that gets the blood pumpin'." Metal Bat paused, expression turning a shade more serious. "Hey… you're not even winded. Most of us would be half-dead after tankin' all that. You sure you're not some kinda secret weapon the Association cooked up?"
Nova met his eyes. "I'm as confused as you are. Woke up like this a few days ago."
Metal Bat laughed. "Fair enough. Just don't go soft on us when the really big stuff shows up, alright?"
"Deal."
Tatsumaki descended last—slowly, deliberately. She landed ten meters away, arms still crossed, green aura flickering low.
She studied him for a long moment without speaking.
Then:
"You're dangerous."
Nova raised an eyebrow. "Coming from you, that's almost a compliment."
"It wasn't." She floated closer until they were eye-level. "Power that grows without limit is a problem. For everyone. Including you."
Nova didn't flinch. "I know. That's why I'm here—to figure out where the line is before I cross it."
Tatsumaki's gaze narrowed. "If you ever start looking like you're about to lose control, I won't hesitate."
Nova smiled—small, calm. "Good. Someone should keep an eye on me."
She huffed, turned, and floated away without another word.
But as she left, Nova caught the briefest flicker in her expression—not fear, exactly.
Respect? Curiosity?
Hard to tell with her.
His phone buzzed.
Hero Association Priority AlertAll S-Class personnel: Standby for debrief at HQ. Nova – mandatory full medical & power assessment scheduled 1400 hours tomorrow. Rank adjustment vote pending review of today's combat logs.Current provisional rank: S-Class Rank 4
Rank 4.
Above Genos. Above Metal Bat. Only Tatsumaki, Bang, Atomic Samurai, and Blast (wherever he was) sat higher.
Nova stared at the screen for a moment, then pocketed it.
He stood, stretched, felt the absurd strength coiling in every fiber.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the old Alex—the ordinary one—whispered:
This is insane. You're not supposed to be this strong this fast.
The new Nova—the one with blue fire in his veins—answered:
Then let's see how much stronger we can get.
He started walking toward the extraction point.
In the distance, the sun dipped low, painting the smoke clouds crimson.
And in a quiet corner of City Z, Saitama finished his evening grocery run—two discounted cabbage heads and a pack of instant ramen.
He paused on the sidewalk, looking west toward the faint glow on the horizon where City Q still smoldered.
"Hmm," he said to no one. "Feels like someone's catching up."
He shrugged, adjusted the plastic bags, and kept walking home.
Oblivious.
For now.
End of Chapter 10