Baldy vs. Assassin

The training ground behind the mountain. The stone gate was shut. Cold white Nen lamps hung from the dome.

Netero held a cup of hot tea and jerked his chin at Silva. "Don't hold back."

Silva nodded.

Saitama stood in the middle of the grounds, with a drool stain from Mike still on his yellow T-shirt. He glanced around at the soundproof panels lining the training ground, then looked up at the row of Nen lamps on the dome—every one of them was coated in a thin layer of dust.

The Zoldyck family's backyard was not as well maintained as their entry hall. Through the skylight, he glanced at the night sky outside. Kukuroo Mountain had nice air and no light pollution. There were more stars than in Z City. This was a good place for camping, not fighting.

Silva took off his coat and rolled his wrists. His joints cracked. Silver-white Nen rose from his shoulders. This was Ren. The air trembled, and loose stones were shoved rolling in every direction. He drew the Nen close to his body. This was Ken. A silver-white glow flowed over his skin, forming an invisible suit of armor.

Saitama glanced at the glow. "Oh."

Silva moved. Dark Step. A blur flashed, and he was already behind Saitama. A hand chop struck the back of his neck. Direct hit. A dull thud echoed off the walls of the training ground. "No sound, no warning, even the killing intent is hidden within Nen—this is the art of assassination," Wutong said quietly.

Saitama did not move an inch. Silva did not pause—a straight punch hit his spine, an elbow smashed toward his temple, a knee drove into his ribs, and a spinning kick swept through the backs of his knees. Every strike landed. Crushed stone was swept up by Nen pressure and spiraled around them. Saitama's collar had shifted crookedly, and he raised a hand to straighten it.

"A little itchy."

Silva leaped back and thrust out both hands. Blue Nen bullets gathered in his palms, rapidly swelling as they tore at the air. A rapid barrage followed—chest, shoulder, abdomen, back of the head, backs of the knees. All five shots landed. The shockwaves burst outward, and the Nen lamps flickered at once. When the dust settled, Saitama was still standing in the same spot. His feet had never moved. He looked down at the new charred marks on his T-shirt and brushed at them with his fingers. They would not come off.

"Do you have anything else?"

Silva vanished again. Faster this time. The Nen bullets no longer targeted Saitama. They targeted the ground beneath his feet.

"Ground Shatter."

The stone slabs exploded. Saitama dropped half a meter. A side blast followed immediately, launching him into the air. His limbs spread loosely, like a fallen leaf caught in the wind. "That last move was pretty well aimed," he said to the sky. "I can take a break now."

Silva leaped into the air. He thrust out both hands, and Nen bullets flew at Saitama from four directions at once—front, back, left, and right. All four struck simultaneously. The shockwaves lifted Saitama even higher, sending him flipping through the air several times. Midair, he changed position—both hands behind his head, one leg crossed over the other, lying on his back.

"This position is more comfortable than before. The wind is pretty cool, too."

Silva landed. Every move had connected. His opponent had not suffered a scratch. After a moment of silence, he readjusted his Nen distribution—this was Ryu. The real-time switching between Ken and hardening, recalibrating the balance between offense and defense with every attack. He sprinted with Dark Step. A continuous barrage of hand chops and elbow strikes followed. Nen bullets fired again from four directions. The ground was completely blasted apart. Saitama was lifted into the air by the shockwaves and flipped several times. He simply adjusted his position in midair—both hands behind his head, one leg crossed over the other.

"This position is more comfortable than before. The wind is pretty cool, too."

Silva stopped attacking. He stared for several seconds at the bald man floating in the air with his hands behind his head and his legs crossed. Then he took a deep breath, clasped his fists together, and raised them above his head. Silver-white Nen coiled around his arms, condensing into a gigantic Nen bullet larger than Saitama's entire body.

"Big Orb."

The Nen bullet crashed down. Cold blue light lit the training ground as brightly as day. Every Nen lamp on the dome shattered at once.

The ground exploded into a massive crater a hundred meters across. The entire foundation of the training ground was torn up and overturned. Dark stone slabs were thrown into the air like building blocks, mixed with rubble and shattered soundproof panels as they tumbled through the night. At the edge of the forest, Mike pricked up his ears, and all three tails stopped sweeping the ground. In the forest training ground, Gon looked up. Fragments of the training ground's stone slabs drifted across the sky, reflecting moonlight like a silent explosion. Gon stared at the fragments without speaking, then kept running forward.

Saitama flew up as well. Not because he had been blasted away—rather, the stone slab beneath his feet had been lifted intact, and he happened to be standing on it. The slab arced through the night sky like a surfboard, with Saitama standing atop it as his yellow T-shirt snapped in the wind.

Should I fight back? But wait, he's treating me to hot pot later.

"Forget it."

He jumped from one slab to another. The slab was flying faster than he could jump, and when he landed on it, it was still shooting forward. His body tilted backward for a moment before he straightened up again. "A little slippery. I should bring sneakers next time."

Silva caught up. Using Dark Step, he ran across the tumbling stone fragments in the air, each step landing at the instant a piece of rubble fell. He caught up to Saitama, circled behind him, and Nen seeped from between his fingers. A close-range barrage of Nen bullets followed—every shot blasted into Saitama's back, driving him toward higher-floating debris with shockwaves. Silva pursued relentlessly. A hand chop struck toward the back of his neck, a knee drove into his lower back, and a spinning kick swept toward his temple. Punch after punch, every fist wrapped in Nen. The Nen burst from the edges of his fists at the instant of impact, shattering into silver-white motes before gathering again around the next punch. Rubble scattered around them. Large stone slabs were cleaved in two by the aftershocks and tumbled through the air before crashing down. More and more scorch marks appeared on Saitama's T-shirt, but he did not fight back. He only occasionally turned his head to look at the scenery below.

"Your backyard really is huge. Is that tree taller than all the others? That door that flew over earlier seemed to have landed right beside it."

Silva did not answer. He continued attacking, and the Nen bullets' energy exploded in midair. Shattered chunks of rock tumbled through the air. Some crashed back to the ground, smashing a huge pit into the trees at the edge of the forest. Startled, Mike ran off.