Saitama Lost?

Saitama raised a hand to block. The shockwave from the collision of the two forces blasted all the rubble around the crater away.

At the exact moment Saitama blocked Black Saitama's punch, Meruem appeared behind him—there was no sound of wings flapping, no fluctuation of Nen, only pure speed and anticipation—and his wings struck down again.

Saitama was smashed into even deeper ruins. This time, the crater's depth increased from ten meters to fifteen. Twisted rebar jutted from the crater walls like dead branches, while the alloy plates had shattered into palm-sized fragments.

"Teacher!" Genos's weapon systems had all unlocked, but Netero held him firmly in place.

Meruem still had not folded his wings. He hovered in the air, looking down at the bottom of the crater.

He had absolute confidence in his attack. This strike was more powerful than the first, its angle more precise, and the Nen blade had hit Saitama directly at the spine.

But the rubble shifted again.

Saitama climbed back to his feet. The back of his yellow jumpsuit had been completely torn open, reduced to two pieces of cloth hanging from his body and exposing the smooth skin beneath. He lowered his head and glanced at his clothes, his lips pulling downward even more.

Then he raised his head and looked at Meruem in the air.

His expression was neither anger nor vigilance. It was something closer to What a pain.

"Again?" he muttered, reaching back to touch the exposed area. "This suit was expensive."

"Come on."

Meruem and Black Saitama moved at the same time, one on either side. Two identical bursts of speed and power closed in from opposite directions. Saitama had just stood up, only to face two attack paths that sealed off every possible escape route.

He raised both arms,