(Note: Continuing the theme from Chapter 12 but escalating. This is the first S-Class blood of the new arc.)
The walk back to the apartment was nice. Or it would have been, if Fubuki hadn't been on the phone screaming at a contractor about the proper thread count for the new curtains.
Saitama carried the shopping bags. He hummed a tuneless song, watching his breath mist in the cool evening air. He felt… okay. Not excited. Not bored to death. Just okay. It was a rare equilibrium.
They reached the street leading to his reinforced apartment block.
"Wait," Saitama stopped.
Fubuki covered her phone. "What? Forgot the receipt?"
"No," Saitama frowned, looking up at the sky. "It got quiet."
Fubuki listened. The distant hum of city traffic, the cicadas, the wind—it was all gone. The silence wasn't natural. It was heavy. Predatory.
Then, they heard it.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
Soft footsteps. But they echoed like cannon fire in the unnatural quiet.
A figure turned the corner at the end of the block. A white, fluffy figure walking on two legs.
"Watchdog Man?" Fubuki squinted. "What is he doing here? He never leaves City Q."
Saitama's brow furrowed. "He looks... dirty."
Watchdog Man wasn't pristine white anymore. His fur was matted with dust, monster gore, and something darker that pulsed with a faint violet light. His expression was the usual blank, open-mouthed stare, but the darkness in his eyes was endless.
He stopped fifty yards away.
"Hello, Doggy," Saitama waved. "Are you lost? Want a treat?"
Watchdog Man tilted his head.
Fubuki dropped her phone. She clutched her head, staggering. The psychic pressure was crushing. "Saitama! That's not him! It's—"
Watchdog Man vanished.
No build-up. No muscle tension. One microsecond he was there, the next he was gone.
Saitama reacted. He didn't see the attack; he felt the intent. He raised his shopping bags to shield Fubuki.
CRACK.
Watchdog Man reappeared mid-air, delivering a downward paw-strike that carried the weight of a collapsing mountain range.
Saitama caught the paw with his free hand.
The shockwave pulverized the newly paved street instantly. Concrete turned to powder. Windows blew out for three blocks.
Saitama's knees bent slightly. The ground beneath his feet sank, forming a ten-foot crater.
"Whoa," Saitama said, his eyes widening a fraction. "Bad dog."
He tried to shove the paw back. But Watchdog Man twisted his body with impossible fluidity, using Saitama's arm as a pivot point to launch a kick at Saitama's head with his hind legs.
Thud.
Saitama took the kick to the cheek. He skidded sideways, digging trenches in the asphalt with his heels. He kept hold of the shopping bags, lifting them high so the eggs wouldn't break.
"Fubuki! Get back!" Saitama yelled.
But Fubuki was paralyzed. The psychic aura radiating from the dog costume wasn't just power; it was pure, distilled terror. It whispered to her deepest insecurities. Weak. Useless. Alone.
Watchdog Man landed on all fours. He growled. The sound made the streetlamps explode.
Gravity clamped down.
Fubuki fell to her knees, pinned. She couldn't breathe.
Saitama stood straight. "Sit?" he scoffed. "I prefer standing."
He walked forward. The intense gravity field crumpled cars around him like foil, but Saitama just walked through it, his cape fluttering heavily.
"You're hurting my friend's ears," Saitama said.
He swung. A casual hook.
Watchdog Man ducked under the punch.
Saitama blinked. "Huh?"
Watchdog Man didn't just dodge. He anticipated. He moved before Saitama decided to punch. He lunged, biting Saitama's arm.
Crunch.
The teeth of the costume—usually soft felt—were now diamond-hard razors imbued with cosmic energy. They clamped onto Saitama's forearm.
Sparks flew. Saitama's sleeve shredded.
Saitama looked at his arm. There were no puncture marks, but there were distinct, white indents on his skin. Pressure marks.
"He bit me," Saitama murmured, more surprised than hurt. "And he dodged?"
This was new. Garou had dodged him. Boros had tanked him. But nobody had ever moved under him like he was slow.
"Playtime is over," Saitama said. His voice dropped.
He grabbed the dog costume by the scruff of the neck. "Let go!"
He yanked.
Watchdog Man released his bite and flipped backward, landing perfectly.
Watchdog Man raised both paws. Dark energy gathered between them, forming a swirling sphere of destruction.
Serious Series: Serious Snout Boop.
Saitama appeared in front of him. He didn't punch. He extended two fingers and poked Watchdog Man right on the wet, black nose of the costume.
It looked silly. It wasn't.
The "boop" delivered a kinetic shock directly into the skeletal structure, bypassing the outer durability. It was a vibration designed to rattle the brain inside the skull.
Watchdog Man's head snapped back. The dark sphere of energy dissipated. His eyes rolled back to white for a second.
The possessed hero stumbled, dazed.
Saitama wound up for a chop to finish it—non-lethal, just a nap-inducer.
But then, Watchdog Man smiled. A horrifying, stretched grin.
He didn't attack Saitama.
He spun around and lunged at the paralyzed Fubuki.
"NO!" Saitama roared. He launched himself forward.
He was fast. Infinitely fast. But Watchdog Man was closer, and the Entity knew exactly how to use its pawns.
Watchdog Man wasn't aiming to kill Fubuki. He swiped his claws across her chest, shredding her power suit and drawing blood—three deep, jagged lines across her torso.
Then, he used the recoil to launch himself away, bouncing off buildings, fleeing into the night.
Saitama slid to a halt next to Fubuki. She collapsed, clutching her chest, red soaking the white fabric.
"Fubuki!" Saitama dropped the shopping bags. The eggs broke. He didn't care.
He knelt down, his hands hovering over her, unsure what to do. He could punch a planet to death, but he couldn't stitch a wound.
"I... I'm okay," Fubuki gasped, her face pale. She tried to sit up but winced. "Just a scratch..."
"That's not a scratch," Saitama said, his voice tight. "That's..."
Genos rocketed out of the sky, landing with a heavy thud. He scanned Fubuki instantly.
"Vital signs dropping. Lacerations are deep but missed major arteries. Toxicity detected in the wound—unknown cosmic radiation."
Genos deployed a medical foam spray from his finger, sealing the wounds instantly. Fubuki cried out, gripping Saitama's arm hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
"We need to get her to Kuseno," Genos said urgency. "The radiation will interfere with her psychic regulation."
Saitama scooped her up. She felt incredibly light.
He looked in the direction Watchdog Man had fled. His expression was no longer bored. It wasn't even angry. It was terrifyingly blank.
"Genos," Saitama said. "Take her."
He handed Fubuki to his disciple.
"Sensei?" Genos asked, holding Fubuki gently. "Where are you going?"
Saitama looked at the broken eggs on the pavement. At Fubuki's blood staining his new shirt.
"I'm going to take the dog for a walk," Saitama said.
He bent his knees. The pavement vaporized.
He didn't just jump. He vanished, leaving a sonic boom that shattered windows for ten miles.
Fubuki looked up weakly at Genos. "Stop him... it's a trap..."
"I cannot," Genos said, watching the trail of atmospheric fire disappearing over the horizon. "And frankly... I would not want to be the one standing in his way right now."
The chase led south. Across forests, mountains, and rivers.
Watchdog Man ran on all fours, moving at hypersonic speeds, tearing up the landscape. But behind him, gaining with every second, was a golden streak of fury.
Saitama landed in front of Watchdog Man in a canyon, cutting him off.
"Sit," Saitama said.
Watchdog Man skidded to a halt. He growled, black smoke pouring from his mouth.
"I don't care about your tricks," Saitama walked forward. "You hurt my friend."
He raised a fist.
"Serious Series: Serious..."
The ground beneath Watchdog Man erupted. Not from Saitama, but from below.
A massive, worm-like creature swallowed Watchdog Man whole and dove back underground. It was an Elder Centipede. But not the Elder Centipede. This one was mechanical. Plated in chrome.
CENTISENNY: NEO-HERO MECHA-BEAST.
It drilled into the earth, escaping deep into the mantle.
Saitama stood over the hole. He raised his fist to punch the earth, to split the planet open and drag them out.
He hesitated.
If he punched the ground that hard, the shockwave would destabilize the fault lines. City Z would be destroyed. The S.S. Discount would crash. Fubuki...
He lowered his fist. He clenched it until his glove creaked.
He had checked his punch. He had hesitated.
For the first time, Saitama had a reason not to use his full power. He had something to lose.
And deep in the earth, in the belly of the machine, the Entity laughed.