Night stretched long over New York.
By morning, the internet was already on fire.
Thirty-four high-ranking heroes—A-Class and above—had been placed on the Association's wanted list… and then killed within a single day.
The public didn't know what to make of it.
Since the Hero Association's founding, casualties had been rare. Even with the steady rise of monster threats, fewer than ten heroes had ever been confirmed dead in total. Among top-tier heroes, losses were almost unheard of.
And now?
Thirty-four.
Gone overnight.
The shock hit like a tidal wave.
The Association responded quickly.
Official statement:
"These individuals were undercover agents of the Monster Association."
Then they released more.
The Monster Association, they claimed, was a hidden organization working to eliminate the Hero Association and seize control of the world. According to the report, it housed at least twenty threats powerful enough to require S-Class intervention.
Just like that, public attention shifted.
Fear replaced outrage.
Even the S-Class heroes were shaken. An enemy of that scale, operating in secret, was no small matter.
When they pressed for details, the answer came back the same every time.
The intelligence had come from King.
And the story didn't end there.
To sell it, the Association added one more piece.
King, they claimed, had fought his way out after being surrounded by multiple high-level monsters. He survived—but lost his ability to fight in the process.
The next morning, outside headquarters—
King stood stiffly in front of a suited official, his expression carefully neutral.
Inside, his thoughts were anything but.
Please don't make me pay anything…
The official adjusted his glasses and spoke in a formal tone.
"Mr. King, after evaluation, we regret to inform you that you no longer meet the requirements to remain an active hero."
King blinked.
"…oh."
Relief flooded him so fast it almost made him dizzy.
"No penalties will be enforced," the official continued. "Your prior benefits will not be reclaimed. Publicly, we will state that you were critically injured during your encounter with the Monster Association and can no longer continue active duty."
A pause.
"We ask for your cooperation."
King exhaled slowly.
"I've been trying to explain for years," he said. "No one believed me."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Guess this works out."
The official gave him a long, complicated look—something between disappointment and disbelief—before turning and walking away.
King watched him go.
Then sighed.
At last.
Freedom.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
"King."
He turned to see Atomic Samurai standing behind him, studying him closely.
"You alright?" Atomic Samurai asked. "News said you barely made it out alive."
King straightened slightly.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just… pushed too far. I won't be able to fight anymore."
Atomic Samurai's expression softened.
"That's a shame."
Behind him, another figure approached—leaning on a cane, wrapped in bandages.
Bang.
"We're gathering," Bang said calmly. "S-Class. The Monster Association isn't something we can ignore."
King forced a smile.
"Right. Of course."
After a brief exchange, the two heroes moved inside.
King stayed behind.
He had no reason to follow anymore.
And for once—
He was glad.
Inside the conference room, tension hung thick in the air.
Several S-Class heroes had already gathered, each carrying their own weight of expectation.
At the center, Noah Vale leaned back in his chair, looking entirely at ease.
Across from him, Tatsumaki sat on the edge of the table, stifling a yawn, her usual sharpness dulled slightly by visible fatigue.
Bang entered first, immediately noticing Noah.
Their eyes met briefly.
Noah didn't react.
Just a glance—then nothing.
As if Bang wasn't worth the effort.
The rest of the room filled gradually.
Then—
A young man stepped forward, mechanical components integrated seamlessly into his body.
Genos.
"You're Noah Vale," he said, voice precise. "I'm Genos. Disciple of Saitama."
Before Noah could respond—
"Hey."
A familiar voice cut in.
Saitama stepped in behind him, hands in his pockets.
"About that fight we talked about," he said casually. "You decided yet?"
Noah tilted his head slightly.
"I have," he replied. "Give it a month."
Saitama's eyes lit up.
"Seriously?"
Noah nodded once.
"We'll settle it then."
That was enough.
Saitama grinned.
More heroes filtered in.
One seat remained empty.
The top one.
After a while, an executive entered the room, scanning the assembled group.
"…Blast isn't coming," he said.
No one looked surprised.
He took a breath.
"Let's begin."
The room quieted.
"The Monster Association threat has been confirmed," he continued. "Based on intelligence gathered, their base is located beneath Z-City."
A murmur spread through the room.
"We don't have the luxury of time," he said firmly. "If we delay, they'll prepare. We strike first."
He placed a hand on the table.
"All S-Class heroes will mobilize. The objective is simple—invade, eliminate, and destroy the organization before it can act."
Silence followed.
Then—
A hand went up.
Child Emperor.
"Isn't this too fast?" he asked. "We haven't had time to prepare. Charging in blindly could backfire."
Several others exchanged glances.
They were thinking the same thing.
The executive didn't answer immediately.
The tension in the room tightened.
The operation was set.
But not everyone was convinced.