One-Punch Man: Boros, the Universe Overlord

Bang was stunned. Looking at the nonchalant expressions of the group, he was at a loss for words.

"I see……"

Banggu nodded, then beckoned to Chalanco, who was returning with a tea tray, and whispered a few words in his ear. Chalanco quickly nodded and withdrew.

A moment later, Chalan Ke, panting, carried over several piles of thick tiles and neatly stacked them on the open ground in front of everyone. The edges of the tiles were rough and they exuded a heavy weight.

Bang walked slowly to the pile of tiles, took a deep breath, and without making any fancy moves, he simply raised his palms and gently lowered them as if playing a zither, placing the edges of his palms precisely in the center of the pile of tiles.

"Snap—"

A crisp cracking sound rang out instantly. The several piles of heavy tiles seemed to have been sliced ​​open by an invisible blade, shattering neatly in the middle, the cut as smooth as a mirror, without a trace of breakage.

"Hehe, how about it? This is a rare opportunity. Why not come and experience the essence of martial arts?"

Bang chuckled, a glint in his eyes. Saitama and Boros's nonchalant answers had made him realize that without demonstrating some real skill, these young men would likely struggle to grasp the profound depth of traditional martial arts.

"Alright, alright, let's eat!"

Saitama, half-heartedly agreeing, strode over to the pile of tiles that hadn't yet been shattered by his palm strike. He casually raised his right fist, not even bothering to strike a pose, and simply flicked it lightly.

"boom--"

With a muffled thud, the once neatly stacked, heavy tiles instantly shattered into fragments, scattering across the floor. The power of this punch was perfectly controlled, with not a single trace of excess energy leaking out; it was even more visually impactful than Bang's beautiful palm strike that shattered the bricks earlier.

"These people definitely need to learn what martial arts are..."

Bang inwardly grumbled, but his smile maintained the demeanor of a grandmaster.

"Ahem," Bang cleared his throat again, then had Chalan bring out a bunch of things and said:

"In that case, next is a martial arts training method that has been passed down in the dojo from ancient times to the present, a kind of sparring competition. First, the two sides must determine who will make the first move. To be fair, it is usually decided by 'rock, paper, scissors'."

"It's rock-paper-scissors, right?" King interjected.

"Well, that makes sense. Anyway, the winner gets the right to use weapons... uh, that is, to use these wooden hammers to beat up the other person," Bang explained, trying to sound as serious as possible.

"Oh! I understand."

Saitama nodded as if suddenly enlightened, and said incisively, "It's just a game of rock-paper-scissors with head-tapping, isn't it?"

"You can't say it like that!" Bang sighed helplessly, a few beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

"This kind of competition emphasizes reaction speed, psychological warfare, and explosive power, which can be applied to real martial arts combat! It tests judgment and execution in a very short time!"

"These are the rules. Who wants to try first?"

Bang sat cross-legged, his gaze sweeping over the group with a hint of testing.

"Heh, I'll give it a try first," Boros scoffed.

"OK."

Bang smiled slightly and subtly adjusted his posture.

The two sat facing each other across the props. Boros's expression was stern, while Bang's hands were loosely clenched in a standard rock-paper-scissors stance, his eyes sharp as an eagle's.

The air around them seemed to freeze at that moment. Genos and Chalan held their breath, and even King and Saitama couldn't help but move closer.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

With a low, synchronized shout, both men's arms swung down simultaneously. Bang's movements were so fast they were just afterimages; his withered yet incredibly powerful hand instantly opened and firmly pressed down on Boros's gesture.

Boros's pupils contracted sharply, and the scene from just moments before flashed through his mind—he had clearly caught the slight movement of Bang's knuckles just before he made his move, a clear sign that he was about to unleash the "scissors"!

However, at the very moment the fist was about to strike, Bang's wrist twitched strangely as if it had no bones, and his five fingers suddenly spread out, transforming into the "cloth" that restrained everything.

"What?!"

The outcome was decided by the slightest margin. Boros didn't even have time to think; he instantly reached for the helmet placed between the two men, attempting to use it to block the upcoming attack.

"Duang~"

A dull and loud thud echoed through the dojo. Bang, holding the wooden hammer in his hand, did not hesitate at all because of Boros's actions. Instead, he used the momentum of his forward charge to strike Boros hard on the head.

"You've got a point first, young man, you're still too green."

Bangu put down the mallet, sat back down steadily, and wore his signature gentle smile.

"Damn it... this old man is so fast!" Boros thought, rubbing his head.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

Boros lost three games in a row and started to see stars.

"Tsk, interesting." Saitama sat to the side, his bald head gleaming under the light. He looked at Boros, who was slumped on the ground with disbelief in his eyes, and couldn't help but say with disdain:

"Pineapple Head, are you even capable? Get up, get up, stop taking up space, let me do it!"

Saitama rolled up his sleeves and confidently pulled Boros aside, making himself sit opposite Bang.

After three rounds

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

Three muffled thuds followed, and a bright red mark appeared on Saitama's once smooth and shiny forehead.

"Damn it, let's do it again! That was just a warm-up!"

Saitama rubbed his bright red bald head, his face flushed, and shouted defiantly.

"Get out of the way, it's my turn! I refuse to believe this!"

Boros shoved Saitama aside, his eyes burning with vengeful fury. He sat back down, staring intently at Bang's hand.

The result remains the same.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

Three more blows. A bump appeared on Boros's forehead.

"My turn! I'll look more carefully this time!"

Saitama, not to be outdone, once again pushed aside Boros and rejoined the battle.

………………

"It's my turn! Get out of the way!" Boros

"It's my turn again." Saitama

The two of them went back and forth, engaging in a battle of attrition against Bang, like two tireless players playing whack-a-mole, though of course they were the ones getting beaten...

The sound of wooden mallets striking the dojo was incessant, accompanied by the screams and defiant roars of the two fighters, creating a chaotic scene. Bang, however, remained calm and composed, a smile on his face.

After dozens of rounds of frantic tag-team battles, the air inside the dojo seemed to freeze in a suffocating killing intent, and both Saitama and Boros had bumps all over their heads.

The two men resembled two ferocious gods about to go berserk, their three eyes wide open, the whites of their eyes filled with hideous bloodshot veins. Their chests heaved violently, and their heavy breathing created an invisible ripple on the scorching floor.

The dismal result of not winning a single game made them look like enraged bulls, already starting to get angry, frustrated, and on the verge of going berserk.

Seeing that the two of them were on the verge of snapping, Bang stood up with a smile.

His seemingly cloudy old eyes gleamed with an all-knowing shrewdness. He calmly took a half-step back, skillfully creating a safe distance.

"Hey! Old man! Don't even think about leaving! Keep going!" Boros and Saitama roared at the same time.

"Hey, calm down." Bang waved his hand, his smile widening.

"Since you two are both so energetic, let's have a competition between you two. This is our sect's procedure."

At this moment, both men, their heads covered in swollen bumps and the humiliation of repeated defeats, had lost all reason. They no longer cared who their opponents were or what the point was; only one crazy thought remained in their minds: they needed someone to play this game with them, and they needed to vent the pent-up anger in their chests.

In this berserk state, Boros abruptly tossed his messy hair, strode forward, and plopped down in Bang's spot, his one eye fixed on Saitama, burning with rage.

Veins bulged on Saitama's bald head, and his eyes were bloodshot. The two were like beasts about to duel, staring intently at each other. The air seemed to freeze for a moment, with only their heavy breathing echoing in the dojo.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

The two men swung their arms down simultaneously, their movements swift and filled with a pure, unbridled desire to release their pent-up emotions.

In this round, the scales of fate finally tipped strangely in Boros's favor. The moment the "cloth" completely covered the "stone," time seemed to freeze in the entire dojo, and even the dust floating in the air stopped moving.

Boros's face, which had been flushed with rage, began to contort violently. It was an indescribably complex expression, as if countless extreme emotions were exploding within him and forcibly merging together.

It is the ecstatic joy of finally venting long-suppressed humiliation, the cruel excitement of about to retaliate, the ferocity of long-suppressed anger finally finding an outlet, and an extreme desire for the release of violence.

These emotions surged through his veins like boiling magma, eventually converging in his facial muscles, squeezing and stretching his features to form a grotesque, distorted mask.

Genos and King, who were watching from the sidelines, both shuddered at that moment. Through Boros's pupils, which were dilated to an extreme degree due to ecstasy, they seemed to have a terrifying hallucination:

Before them, Boros's figure was growing infinitely taller, instantly transforming into a colossal demon that blotted out the sky. The demon exuded a suffocating aura of savage tyranny, its gaping maw emitting a silent, twisted, maniacal laugh, as if it wanted to tear the entire world apart with a single blow.

"Hahaha...hahaha! Die—!!!"

Boros's maniacal laughter boomed like thunder throughout the dojo, a sound that contained the resentment he had suppressed for dozens of rounds and the madness of finally taking control.

He roared out the last word, "death," with almost all his strength. His vocal cords trembled as if they were being torn apart by excessive excitement, and saliva even sprayed out with the sound waves.

In that instant, the wooden hammer in his hand, accompanied by a whistling sound and brimming with twisted pleasure, slammed heavily into Saitama's forehead.

"Bang--!!!"

A dull thud erupted, the impact of the wooden hammer colliding with the skull even causing the ground to tremble slightly, and splinters of wood flew everywhere along with the dust kicked up.

"call--"

As the wooden hammer fell heavily, Boros tilted his head back and exhaled a long, stale breath. It felt as if he had been holding it in for centuries, and now it was finally being released.

He felt every pore on his body opening up, every cell rejoicing. The blissful feeling of physical and mental comfort made him feel almost ethereal, as if his soul had undergone a sacred baptism and been completely sublimated.

However, after the intense pleasure came sobriety. When reason finally prevailed, a chilling cold instantly enveloped him.

He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on the person opposite him.

Saitama was looking down, with wood chips falling from his bald head. His neat row of large lumps looked particularly grotesque in the dim light, his face extremely distorted, staring at him with an indescribable gaze.

His eyes held a resentment powerful enough to destroy the heavens and the earth, as if he would raze the entire dojo to the ground in the next second.

Boros's joy froze instantly, and he couldn't help but shiver violently.

"Ha...this...this game is really boring, I'm not playing anymore..."