A few days later, in New York.
Saitama arrived from Z-City with a simple mission—and a crumpled sketch in his hand.
He walked with his usual unhurried stride, holding the drawing out in front of him like a grocery list. After some wandering and asking around, he finally stopped in front of a high-rise building.
"…this should be it."
He bent his knees and jumped.
In a blink, he landed on the rooftop.
Up top, the atmosphere couldn't have been more different.
Music played. Drinks flowed. A group of enhanced individuals lounged around a rooftop party, laughing like nothing in the world could touch them.
Then Saitama landed.
Silence spread outward like a ripple.
"…hey," one of them said, squinting. "Isn't that the B-Class guy? One Punch or whatever?"
Another snorted. "You lost or something? This isn't your league."
Saitama didn't react.
He simply raised the sketch and compared it to a man standing near the center.
"Are you Ivanov?" he asked.
The man stepped forward, brow furrowing.
"That's me," he said. "Why?"
Saitama nodded.
"The Association says you've been taking jobs from a wealthy client. Eliminating his competitors."
A pause.
"They want you arrested."
Ivanov stared at him.
Then laughed.
"You're sending a B-Class hero after me?" he said, voice dripping with disbelief. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
He stepped closer, looming.
"I did it. So what?"
Saitama sighed.
"…okay."
That was enough.
His fist moved.
Ivanov didn't even see it.
The punch landed square in his abdomen. The sound was dull, heavy—like something collapsing inward.
Ivanov's eyes bulged as blood sprayed from his mouth.
"…you talk too much," Saitama muttered. "If you did it, that's all I needed to know."
Around them, the party froze.
Then exploded into motion.
They attacked all at once.
Energy blasts. Shockwaves. Strange abilities flared in every direction, converging on Saitama like a storm.
For a brief moment, the rooftop disappeared under the barrage.
Saitama stood in the middle of it.
Unbothered.
Then he remembered something.
The Association's briefing from the night before.
"…anyone who interferes can be treated as an accomplice. You're authorized to use full force."
And more importantly—
"…bonus payout per arrest."
Saitama's eyes sharpened.
That's… a lot of money.
He looked around at the attackers.
"…yeah, okay."
He raised his fist.
"Consecutive Normal Punches."
The air screamed.
A barrage of punches tore through the incoming attacks, reversing them instantly. The force slammed into everyone on the rooftop, launching them like broken pieces across the skyline.
Bodies hit the ground.
Unconscious.
Alive—but completely defeated.
Saitama lowered his hand.
"…that should be about 320,000."
He nodded to himself.
Worth it.
Then—
Something grabbed him.
A massive hand.
Saitama looked up.
Ivanov stood there again—but now he was enormous. His body had expanded, muscles bulging unnaturally, rage burning in his eyes.
"You made me waste one of my best assets," Ivanov snarled. "You and Noah Vale… you're both dead!"
He slammed Saitama downward.
The rooftop vanished.
The building followed.
The impact rippled outward, shaking the surrounding district like a localized earthquake.
Back at the Hero Association headquarters—
The tremor didn't go unnoticed.
Tatsumaki paused mid-step, glancing toward the source of the disturbance.
"…something big just happened."
Behind her, Noah Vale stirred awake, sitting up slowly.
Their eyes met.
Tatsumaki tensed instantly.
"You're not—" she started, already on edge.
Noah smirked faintly.
"Relax," he said. "Not right now."
She didn't look convinced.
Over the past few days, she'd been pushed to her limits—physically and mentally. Even standing without her psychic support felt like effort now.
Noah stretched, then stood.
"Something's going on," he said. "Might need your help."
Tatsumaki hesitated.
Then exhaled.
"…fine."
She didn't have the strength to argue.
Noah stepped closer, pausing briefly as if noticing something.
"…you're still injured."
Her face flushed immediately.
"That's your fault," she snapped.
Noah chuckled under his breath.
"Then get changed," he said lightly. "We've got work to do."
Tatsumaki shot him a glare—but didn't argue further.
Because as much as she hated it—
There were bigger problems waiting.