The three impacts almost overlapped.
Time seemed to freeze. The three-headed monster's motion of spewing green flames abruptly stiffened. The eerie green fire flickered once in their throats—then went out completely. Then, under countless stunned gazes, the three rock necks—so insanely hard that even Iron Man's repulsors couldn't damage them—began to sprout countless spiderweb-like cracks from the points where they'd been struck, rapidly spreading across the entire bodies.
Next, like dead branches snapped off by an invisible giant hand, the three massive heads lost all support. They drooped limply, and then—together with the enormous bodies—crashed down with a thunderous boom, shattering into countless huge chunks of rock and kicking up a sky of dust.
The whole process was so fast no one could even react.
Iron Man hovered in midair. His faceplate opened, revealing Tony Stark's slightly dazed expression. He looked at the three heaps of rubble on the ground, then looked at Saitama, who had already walked back to the bench and picked up his shopping bag again. Tony opened his mouth, then finally could only mutter:
"...Thanks. I'll treat you to a cheeseburger sometime, okay?"
Saitama lifted the bag, checked the eggs inside—still perfectly intact—then nodded. "Oh. Sure. But I've gotta go home and put this stuff away first."
The crisis in the industrial district was temporarily resolved. Rescue and cleanup would naturally be handled by professionals. Saitama carried his critically important discounted groceries, planning to take a shortcut home. He was even calculating dinner options in his head—egg rice, or maybe milk oatmeal.
But as he entered a quieter street—one that usually didn't have many people around—there came a low hum overhead, the sound of vortex engines. A powerful airflow pressed down, whipping his loose tracksuit so it flapped loudly.
Saitama looked up.
A sleek, futuristic black VTOL aircraft hovered silently ahead of him, blocking his path. A side hatch slid open. A figure jumped down and landed steadily on the ground.
The man wore a black leather coat and had a tall, solid build. Most striking was his razor-sharp single eye—and the cold, commanding presence of someone used to sitting at the top and controlling the whole board.
It was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Nick Fury.
Fury's one-eyed gaze fell on the plain supermarket plastic bag in Saitama's hand, then shifted back to his expressionless face.
"Saitama," Fury said in a low, forceful voice, going straight to the point. "I'm Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We've been watching you. Now the Earth needs your help."
Saitama blinked. "...Oh. What is it?" His attention seemed to be more on the bag—he carefully adjusted the eggs inside so they wouldn't get bumped.
Fury wasn't surprised by the reaction. He continued in that unmistakably non-negotiable tone:
"These rock monsters appearing frequently across the globe aren't random. They come from an other-dimensional space called the 'Rift Dimension.' And now, their leader is constructing a massive permanent portal on the far side of the Moon. If it succeeds, what pours into Earth won't be scattered monsters like this—it'll be a dimensional army capable of drowning the entire world."
He stared at Saitama, trying to catch even a trace of shock or urgency on his face.
Saitama did show a bit of expression—
But it was hesitation. "The Moon? That's pretty far..." He lifted the bag slightly as if to show what he meant. "And if I go, I'll miss tomorrow's limited-time supermarket sale. Red beans are half off."
(End of Chapter)
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