In the pitch-black, gigantic tornado, the only light came from around the black sun at its peak. It was just enough for Shierke and Saitama, caught up in the whirlwind, to make out five indistinct, terrifying black silhouettes that seemed to be looking down at them in mocking disdain.
A closer look would have made it clear that the thing in the sky wasn't a black sun at all. It was merely a deep, pitch-black void, leading to some unknown place.
Likewise, the black tornadoes all around them weren't clouds or dust whipped up by real air currents. They were twisted, mad faces, writhing as the tornadoes churned!
There was no doubt about it: they were the souls of the wrongfully dead!
And this black tornado passageway into the unfathomable void was likely made up of countless twisted souls—millions, tens of millions, perhaps even hundreds of millions of them.
"??"
"The five Apostles?"
Saitama, however, had no interest in those souls, and he wasn't afraid, either. Only after hearing Shierke's startled cry did he scratch his gleaming bald head, which reflected light even in the darkness. Then, after repeating her words, he suddenly clenched a fist and asked as if he'd just realized something:
"Ah!"
"I remember now!"
"Miss Witch."
"They're those five 'God's Hand' Apostles you mentioned earlier—the five culprits behind everything, right?"
After Shierke confirmed it with her eyes, unable to move, Saitama quickly turned back toward the sky and carefully studied the five figures standing on platforms that had appeared out of nowhere. Some stood upright, some sideways, and some upside down, as if they paid no heed at all to the laws of space and gravity.
He soon picked out the leader standing in the middle. The hideous creature had a head with an exposed, enlarged