The back-mountain training ground. The stone doors closed. Cold-white Nen fluorescent lamps hung from the dome.
Netero held a cup of hot tea and lifted his chin at Silva. "Don't hold back."
Silva nodded.
Saitama stood in the center of the arena, his yellow T-shirt still stained with Mike's saliva. He looked left and right at the soundproof panels on the four walls of the training ground, then looked up at the row of Nen fluorescent lamps on the dome—each lamp covered with a thin layer of dust.
The Zoldyck family's backyard was not as well-maintained as the foyer. He glanced through the skylight at the night sky outside. The air on Kukuroo Mountain was nice, with no light pollution, and there were more stars than in Z City. This place was suitable for camping, not for fighting.
Silva took off his jacket. He rolled his wrists, his knuckle joints popping crisp and loud. Silver-white Nen rose from his shoulders. This was Ren. The air trembled, and gravel was pushed rolling toward the surroundings. He gathered his Nen close to his body. This was Ken. A silver-white halo flowed across the surface of his skin, forming an invisible layer of armor.
Saitama glanced at that layer of halo. "Oh."
Silva moved. Dark Step. Afterimages flashed, and he had already circled behind him. A hand-blade chopped toward the back of the neck. Dead center. A muffled thud echoed among the four walls of the training ground. "No sound, no warning, even the killing intent is hidden within the Nen—this is the assassination art," Wutong said in a low voice.
Saitama didn't budge an inch. Silva did not pause—a straight punch hit the spine, an elbow strike smashed into the temple, a knee strike drove toward the ribs, and a roundhouse kick swept across the knee pit. Every single one hit. Gravel was churned up by the Nen Pressure, swirling around the two of them. Saitama's collar was crooked by a section, and he raised a hand to straighten it.
"It kinda tickles."
Silva leaped backward. He pushed his palms out. Blue Nen Bullets condensed in his palms, rapidly expanding and tearing through the air. Rapid-fire Nen Bullets—chest, shoulders, abdomen, back of the head, knee pit. All five hit. Shockwaves exploded, and the Nen fluorescent lamps flickered simultaneously. The smoke and dust cleared. Saitama stood right where he was, his feet having never moved. He looked down at the extra charred marks on his T-shirt, flicked them with his finger, but they didn't brush off.
"Do you have anything else?"
Silva vanished again. Faster. The Nen Bullets no longer aimed at the person, aiming at his feet instead.
Ground Shatter.
The stone slabs shattered. Saitama dropped half a meter. A lateral shockwave followed closely behind, and his body was jolted high into the air. His limbs spread out casually, like a leaf blown up by the wind. "You're pretty good at aiming with that trick just now," he said toward the upper air, "I'll just take a break."
Silva leaped into the upper air. Pushing his palms out, Nen Bullets flew toward Saitama from four directions simultaneously—front, back, left and right flanks. Four hit at the same time. Saitama's body was propped even higher by the shockwave, turning over several times in the air. He changed his posture mid-air—hands resting behind his head, one leg crossed over the other, face up to the sky.
"This posture is more comfortable than the last one. The breeze is quite refreshing."
Silva landed. All moves had hit completely. The opponent was unscathed. He was silent for a moment, readjusting his Nen distribution—this was Ryu. Real-time switching between Ken and Ko, with every single move recalibrating the offense and defense ratio. Dash with Dark Step. Consecutive hand-blades and elbow strikes. Nen Bullets volleyed from four directions once again. The ground was thoroughly shattered to pieces. Saitama's body was propped into the upper air by the shockwave, flipping over several times. He simply adjusted his posture mid-air—hands resting behind his head, one leg crossed over the other.
"This posture is more comfortable than the last one. The breeze is quite refreshing."
Silva stopped his attack. He looked at the bald man in mid-air with his hands resting behind his head and his legs crossed, staying silent for a full several seconds. Then he took a deep breath, clasping his fists together and raising them high above his head. Silver-white Nen wrapped around his arms, condensing into a gigantic Nen Bullet larger than Saitama's entire body.
Big Orb.
The Nen Bullet smashed down. The cold blue radiance illuminated the training ground as if it were broad daylight. Every single Nen fluorescent lamp on the dome shattered all at once.
The ground blasted open a hundred-meter giant crater. The foundation of the training ground was flipped over in one piece. Dark stone slabs were tossed into the upper air like building blocks, gravel and broken soundproof panels mixed together, tumbling in the night. Mike pricked up her ears at the edge of the Forest Sea, her three tails stopping sweeping the ground at the same time. On the forest-sea training ground, Gon raised his head. Fragments of stone slabs from the training ground drifted across the sky, reflecting the moonlight like a silent explosion. Gon stared at those fragments, didn't speak, and continued running forward.
Saitama flew up as well. It wasn't that he was blown flying—the stone slab under his feet was flipped up as a whole, and he happened to be standing on top of it. The stone slab drew an arc in the night sky like a surfboard, and Saitama stood on it, his yellow T-shirt snapping loudly in the wind.
"Should I counterattack? But wait, the other party is going to treat me to hot pot."
"Forget it."
He lunged forward with a leap, jumping from this stone slab to another stone slab. The flying speed of the stone slab was faster than his jumping speed, and the instant he landed on it, the stone slab was still surging forward, his body tilting backward before straightening back up again. "It's a bit slippery. I'll have to bring a pair of sneakers next time."
Silva caught up. Dark Step trod upon the tumbling fragments of stone slabs in the air, every single step treading on the exact instant the gravel fell. He caught up to Saitama, circled behind him, Nen overflowing from between his fingertips. Rapid-fire Nen Bullets at close range—every single one slammed into Saitama's back, pushing him toward the higher-altitude gravel with shockwaves. Silva pursued relentlessly. A hand-blade chopped at the back of his neck, a knee strike braced against his lower back, a roundhouse kick swept across his temple. Punch after punch, every single strike wrapped in Nen. The Nen exploded outward from the knuckles the instant of impact, shattering into silver-white specks of light, then recondensing for the next punch. Gravel scattered and splashed around them, large stone slabs were cleaved in half by the aftershocks, tumbling through the air as they smashed toward the ground. Scorched marks grew more and more numerous on Saitama's T-shirt, but he didn't counterattack. He only occasionally turned his head to glance at the scenery below.
"Your backyard is indeed quite large. Is that tree taller than the rest? The door that flew over just now seemed to crash right next to it."
Silva didn't answer. He continued his attack, the energy of the Nen Bullets exploding in the air. The shattered giant boulders tumbled in the air, some smashing back down to the ground and blasting a huge crater into the woods at the edge of the Forest Sea. Mike got scared and ran out and away.
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