"If you're really a monster," Noah Vale said, his voice flat with boredom, "then kill someone. Show me."
He looked at Garou like he was inspecting something mildly disappointing.
"Or what? You've never actually done it?" Noah added. "Calling yourself the ultimate villain without ever crossing that line… that's not fearsome. That's a joke."
Garou's expression tightened. "You're supposed to be a hero. And yet all you talk about is killing. Figures. Heroes like you are all the same—hypocrites hiding behind a title."
Noah shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. At the end of the day, you're just a guy pretending to be a monster who doesn't have the nerve to follow through. Honestly, half the criminals on the Association's wanted list are worse than you."
Garou scoffed. "Those lowlifes? Don't compare them to me. Before I met you, I already took down dozens of martial artists and a handful of heroes."
Noah tilted his head slightly. "That's it?"
Garou frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean yesterday," Noah said casually. "Or the day before that. What's your count then? Or was that little streak the highlight of your entire career?"
Garou stared at him, thrown off by the question.
What kind of comparison was that supposed to be?
He had no idea that the man standing in front of him had already left a trail of destruction across multiple worlds—entire battlefields reduced to silence, organizations erased, thousands dead directly or indirectly by his hand.
To Noah, Garou's so-called "monster behavior" looked less like terror and more like a teenager playing dress-up.
"You want to be a monster?" Noah said. "Then stop talking and do it. Kill someone."
Garou's jaw clenched. "I never said I wouldn't. If I wanted to, I could—"
Before he could finish, something dropped in front of him.
A man in a prison uniform.
Unconscious.
Still breathing.
Noah held him up by the collar, as if presenting an item for inspection.
"Here," Noah said calmly. "Convenient, right? This guy's a convicted murderer. Three confirmed victims. By your standards, he's already ahead of you."
Garou froze.
There was something deeply wrong about how casually Noah said it.
Like he was offering someone a drink.
"Go on," Noah continued. "If you're serious, this should be easy. Or what… you can't?"
A bead of sweat rolled down Garou's temple.
"…You're insane," he muttered, forcing a scoff. "I'm not playing along with this. I don't waste time on lunatics."
He turned to leave.
"Funny," Noah said behind him. "You stepped in front of me first. Now you're backing out?"
Garou didn't answer.
Noah sighed. "Fine. I'll give you a push."
There was a sharp, wet crack.
Like something bursting under pressure.
Garou's body went rigid.
Blood.
Warm. Thick. Metallic.
It soaked into his clothes, splashed across his skin, filled the air with a nauseating stench.
The prisoner was gone.
Reduced to something unrecognizable.
Noah withdrew his hand slowly, expression unchanged.
"Well?" he said, glancing at Garou. "Feel anything? That's a step forward for you. You should thank me."
Garou trembled.
His stomach churned violently as the smell hit him all at once. He staggered to the side, bracing himself against a wall—
And vomited.
Noah watched, unimpressed. "That's it? Years of training, and this is what breaks you? One death and you're shaking like this?"
Garou snapped.
His hand shot forward, aiming straight for Noah's eyes.
"Enough—!"
It didn't even come close.
Noah caught his wrist mid-strike.
A slight twist—
Bones warped under the pressure, folding unnaturally.
Garou screamed as his arm was twisted into a grotesque angle before Noah flung him aside.
His body slammed into a wall hard enough to leave a crater.
"You call yourself a fighter?" Noah said, stepping forward. "Your hands are unsteady. Your mind's a mess. You can't even commit to your own role. What exactly are you planning to beat me with?"
He planted a foot on Garou's face, forcing his head into the dirt.
"I've always wondered something," Noah went on, almost conversational. "All that talk about monsters and chaos… and yet somehow, no heroes ever actually die. Makes you wonder what kind of 'villain' you really are."
He pressed down harder.
"Tell me something," he added, his tone turning colder. "Between the two of us… who sounds more like a monster?"
Garou's voice came out strained beneath the pressure. "You… don't deserve to be called a hero…"
Noah smirked faintly. "Never said I did. I'm a hero when I feel like it. That's all it takes."
His foot pushed Garou's face deeper into the ground.
"But you?" Noah continued. "If you drop this whole 'monster' act… what's left?"
Before Garou could respond—
"Hey, Noah? What's going on here?"
A familiar, slightly absent-minded voice cut in.
Saitama stood a short distance away, looking at the scene with mild curiosity.
Garou's eyes widened.
S-Class Rank 2.
If anyone could expose Noah—
He forced himself up, trying to speak—
But Noah's foot slammed down again, pinning him in place.
"Oh, him?" Noah said casually, glancing at Saitama. "That's the Hero Hunter the Association's been warning about. He's already put several heroes in the hospital."
He gestured lazily at the blood covering Garou.
"Just now, he ran through the street and slammed into some guy who'd just been released from prison. Killed him instantly. You can see the result."
Saitama looked down at Garou, then nodded.
"Got it," he said. "Then I'll leave it to you."
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
Garou struggled desperately, trying to force out words—
That's not what happened—
But he couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Noah's voice drifted down, amused.
"You wanted to be a monster, right? And now you're trying to get help from a hero?"
His tone sharpened.
"That kind of half-commitment is worse than anything else. If you choose to be a monster, then you don't get to complain about how people treat you."
Garou went still.
For the first time, something cold settled deep in his chest.
Everything he thought he understood about being "evil"… felt shallow now.
Compared to Noah—
It wasn't even close.
Lying there, pinned and broken, Garou's mind spiraled.
What he had been doing all this time… suddenly felt small.
Childish.
Meaningless.
And the man standing over him—
Was something far worse than any monster he had imagined.