One-Punch Man: Boros, the Universe Overlord

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains onto the sofa, where Genos was intently focused on the tablet screen, his fingers swiping rapidly. As the latest announcement popped up on the Hero Association's website, a look of joy appeared on the boy's usually calm and serious face. He turned to Boros, who was sprawled on the sofa engrossed in a comic book, and reported:

"That's great! Because of the resolution of yesterday's meteorite incident, not only has Saitama risen to second place in Class B, but the association has also just released the ranking changes for Class S heroes."

"Professor Boros, you've risen to tenth place in S-rank, Mr. King has risen to fifth place in S-rank, and I've even risen to seventeenth place in S-rank! I'm one step closer to the goal you set for me!"

"Oh……"

Boros responded casually, his gaze still fixed on the comic book, before raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Wait, you said Saitama has been promoted to second place in Class B?"

He was somewhat puzzled, and muttered to himself:

"Such a big change? That shouldn't be the case. Logically, the baldness shouldn't have increased so quickly."

"Speaking of which," Boros looked around and noticed that a familiar figure was missing from the living room.

"I haven't seen that bald guy since early this morning. Do you guys know where he went?"

"Um," Genos put away his tablet and replied, "Because the news about the changes in B-class personnel was released first, I told Saitama-sensei immediately. He was very happy when he heard the news, thinking that the association recognized his efforts. And because he rose so quickly, he felt that reaching S-class wouldn't be too difficult, so he went out early this morning full of energy to look for monsters."

Upon hearing this, Boros picked up the comic book again, covered his face, and laughed:

"Haha, this bald guy usually seems uninterested in anything, but it seems that his obsession with the three of us being S-rank has run deep."

"Sigh, people are so easy to talk about. I was just mentioning him and he's coming back."

Boros tilted his head slightly; his keen hearing had already picked up the noise coming from the distant street. "Hmm? They brought someone else along?"

Not far away, Saitama's signature angry shouts grew louder as they approached:

"How many times have I told you? I'm not joining any of your clubs! I just want to fight monsters! I need to get to S-rank quickly! Can you guys please stop bothering me? It's so annoying! First, there was this random Sonic, and now you, you thug boss!"

"Huh? You actually want to be promoted to S-rank?" A mature female voice then rang out.

"Impossible. Do you know Sweet Mask, the number one A-rank hero? He's a monster among monsters. Many top-ranking A-rank heroes can't advance to S-rank because he's blocking their way. Although you're strong, it's absolutely impossible to defeat someone of Sweet Mask's caliber!"

"Huh, really? I feel like S-class is becoming so common these days, it's everywhere around me..."

Saitama recalled the image of Boros fighting him for the cola, his tone filled with incomprehension and disdain.

"Hey, could you give me a suggestion to the association to make the S-level assessment a bit harder? Isn't the current threshold too low? How come so many random, unqualified people can become S-level?"

The woman shook her head, ignoring Saitama's ramblings, and continued:

"It's very difficult to climb up the ranks on your own. If you're willing to join my organization, I'll use my resources to help you not only maintain your B-level ranking but also try to get you promoted to the top of the A-level."

"I've already said I'm not joining, I'm not joining! Don't you understand? Hey, how long are you going to follow me? I'm already home!"

The bald man's impatient voice rang out again, and then he casually opened the apartment door.

Hearing the door open outside, King, who was playing games in the living room, calmly turned his head, Boros glanced sideways with one eye, and Genos put down the rag he was wiping the table and looked up. The three of them looked towards the door at the same time.

"Heh, it seems your rapid rise in the hero rankings has left you feeling the brutal competition within the association. In this dog-eat-dog world, sticking together for survival is the only way for us... K... K... K... Cang... Cang... Cang... Metal... Metal Cyborg?"

"Saitama-sensei? You're back so early today? And you brought guests with you?"

Genos stared at the woman with short black hair, wearing a dark green long dress, exuding a noble and aloof air, and with a voluptuous figure. His mind raced, and he thought to himself:

"Is this Saitama-sensei's girlfriend from outside the marriage?"

"Well, Genos... I kept running into some weird people today, so I couldn't concentrate on my work, so..."

Saitama responded calmly as he took off his shoes.

At this moment, Hellish Blizzard outside the door was already in a state of extreme chaos due to the collapse of her worldview. Her mind was blank, and her self-awareness seemed to have been instantly ripped away.

"Where...where am I? What's going on? I must be seeing things. Who am I? Why am I in a place like this? What am I doing? Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming! Wake up, wake up!"

Fubuki gripped the hem of the dark green dress tightly, her slender fingers turning white from the excessive force, almost tearing the fabric.

Feeling several oppressive gazes focused on her like searchlights, Fubuki stood frozen in the entryway. The heavy pressure, combined with the violent rise and fall of her chest and the pressure in her heart, made her feel a suffocating despair.

Her body stiffened like a sculpture frozen in an instant, cold sweat pouring down like a waterfall, soaking not only the messy ends of her hair but also completely drenching her once elegant dress. The sticky, cold fabric clung to her skin, trembling and clinging to her trembling body, outlining a disheveled and terrified silhouette.

As a prime example of "big breasts, no brains," her pitiful brain capacity is clearly overloaded, and her CPU seems to be emitting burnt black smoke.

The scene before her was completely beyond her comprehension, plunging her into severe self-doubt—her mind was filled with a cacophony of flashing gibberish, and she was utterly consumed by a delirious panic.

"Hey, how long are you going to stand at the door? Come in if you want, or close the door. All the air conditioning is running out."

Saitama's voice remained as calm as if he were reading an instruction manual.

"……yes."

Fubuki's mind went blank, and she subconsciously responded with a sound that was eight octaves lower than usual, with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor.

With stiff, rusty steps, she followed Saitama for the first time like a schoolchild who had made a mistake, her head bowed and eyes lowered. She carefully moved into the house, even bending down to take off her shoes as lightly as a startled cat, afraid of making the slightest sound.

"Hey, bald guy, who's this stuttering woman who can't even speak clearly?" Boros asked casually.

"Ah, it's a gang leader from the Fubuki Group. He said he's here to recruit us. If you don't agree, he'll get in our way, and then he'll threaten and bully you, Pineapple Head."

Saitama deliberately moved closer to Boros, even mimicking Fubuki's haughty and arrogant demeanor from earlier, and exaggeratedly drew out the words in a sarcastic tone, adding:

"In this cruel Hero Association, you won't survive long without a powerful backer... You'd better be sensible!"

"Huh?" Boros asked in surprise.

Standing to the side, Fubuki felt a deafening "boom" in her mind, as if a nuclear bomb had exploded inside her brain. Her already pale cheeks instantly turned bright red with extreme fear, a flush that seemed to indicate she was about to suffocate.

Her eyes widened in terror, her pupils trembling violently. Her full breasts heaved with her panicked breathing, and her dark green dress, soaked with cold sweat, trembled rapidly, outlining her disheveled appearance.

Without thinking twice, she stumbled forward two steps, stretched out her fair and slender hand, and slapped it shut, covering Saitama's still-talking mouth.

"Ugh!" Saitama blinked, looking at the woman in front of him with a blank expression.

Fubuki's hands trembled slightly with nervousness, and she forced a smile that looked more like a grimace:

"I'm sorry! I was just... I was just joking! No, no, I didn't say any of those things."

"What? Hey girl, why are you so scared? It's like we're at a villain's party. Are you some kind of investigator who stumbled upon this?" Boros said casually.

Fubuki felt a chill run from the soles of her feet straight to the top of her head, her legs instantly losing all support, and she almost collapsed to the ground. Her mind involuntarily conjured up scenes from certain R-rated movies:

"The investigator stumbled into a bandit's den... was bound hand and foot and powerless to resist... and the image of dozens of ferocious-looking men surrounding her... just imagining that hopeless end made her blood freeze."

She flailed her arms frantically, as if trying to push away the invisible shadow. Her once noble and aloof demeanor vanished, replaced by utter terror. Her voice, trembling and choked with sobs, boomed out incoherent apologies:

"Yes, I'm sorry... No! You're definitely not investigators!... I mean, you guys don't look like villains at all! That righteous aura you exude is just...! I mean... I'm the gang leader, no, no, I'm not the leader, I mean..."

"I... I'm just passing by... no, I'm here to visit a friend! Yes, I'm Saitama's friend! A really good friend!"

In desperation, her will to survive surged to its limit, and she recklessly lunged at the nearest lifeline. Fubuki grabbed Saitama's arm, as if a drowning person had grasped at the only piece of driftwood.

She clung to him like a frightened koala. She pressed her wet, trembling body tightly against Saitama, trying to use this shield to insulate herself from Boros's pressure.

Saitama, struggling to breathe from her tightness, said speechlessly:

"Hey, you've already covered my mouth, why are you hugging me so tightly now? Your sweat is dripping all over me! Hey, let go, you stink! If you don't let go, I'm going to punch you!"

"I see. This kind of physical contact that disregards what others think, this sense of dependence that comes so naturally... Is she really Saitama's girlfriend? Although she said she'd beat him up, according to the 'hitting is affection, scolding is love' principle of love, this must be some kind of fun?"

Genos stood to the side, his electronic eyes constantly adjusting their focus. Although he maintained a calm expression, the internal processor's fan was spinning wildly.

"As a disciple, I should show due respect. Would calling her 'Teacher's Wife' be too abrupt? But if I don't, will the teacher be angry? Risk assessment: The risk of addressing her incorrectly outweighs the risk of being overly enthusiastic. Action plan: Perform the etiquette of 'Teacher's Wife'."

"Madam, since you've come as a guest, would you like something to drink?"

Genos stepped forward, speaking respectfully: "We have water, green tea, coffee, cola, and the like here..."

"Huh? Huh? What? Madam? Are you calling me?"

Upon hearing this address, Fubuki was struck dumb, as if by lightning. She frantically slid off Saitama and hurriedly waved her hands, explaining:

"No, no, no! Don't call me 'Master's Wife'!! Just call me Fubuki... Um, I'm a cyborg, so I can drink anything, thank you, I appreciate your help."

"I see, it hasn't gotten to that point yet?"

Genos's clever little brain started working again:

"Okay, Fubuki, here's a glass of orange juice for you. And you can just call me Genos. I'm a student of Saitama and Boros!"

"Brother, disciple? Oh, I see..."

Fubuki chuckled dryly as she took the orange juice Genos offered. To calm her earlier panic, she tilted her head back to take a sip. However, her hands were shaking so badly that the glass tilted too far.

"Cough cough cough—!"

A large mouthful of orange juice went down her throat. Fubuki bent over abruptly, the violent cough making her face even more flushed, and a few glistening tears slid down her eyelashes.

Even worse, with his violent struggles, the dark green wet dress that was already soaked with sweat and clung to his body became even more disheveled and stuck to every inch of his skin under the combined effect of gravity and movement, revealing his exquisite and graceful curves without reservation. With each spasmodic cough, the fragile fabric trembled slightly.

"I'm sorry... I was rude..."

While coughing, Fubuki frantically searched for tissues to wipe herself.

"Your name is Fubuki, right? Don't be too scared, we are all good people."

King put down his game, walked over, and calmly handed Fubuki a pack of tissues with his large hand.

However, the three deep, grotesque scars on King's face, which revealed the bone, and his imposing, tall body that completely enveloped Fubuki, created an intense sense of oppression that made Fubuki even more devastated.

"Sister, help! It's so scary here... Sister, please come and save me..."