One Punch Man in Baki's World

The battlefield below was a dance of chaos.

Martial masters like Doppo Orochi and Retsu Kaioh moved like warriors from another age, carving through a swarm of enhanced shadows that refused to die easy.

Limbs snapped, bones shattered, but the enemies kept rising. Twisted. Ferocious. Almost mindless.

Retsu's heel drove into a mutant's temple, spinning it sideways, yet it simply grinned through broken teeth.

Doppo crushed another's windpipe, but the creature wheezed and swung again before finally collapsing.

"These things…" Doppo muttered, panting, "…they don't feel pain!"

"They've lost their humanity," Retsu replied, "but not their muscle memory."

Down below, Oliva finished another beast with a headbutt so loud it made the air ripple.

He stood over the fallen with blood on his chest, knuckles cracked open, his breaths deep and slow.

But higher above it all, on the upper platform, Baki and Jack lay crumpled against a steel wall, both too injured to rise.

Kozue clung to the wall behind them, tears lining her eyes—not out of fear, but frustration. She couldn't do anything.

Baki stirred weakly. "They're still fighting…"

"You're not healed," Kozue whispered, holding his hand. "Don't move."

Jack's swollen face turned. "I don't care what freak this guy is… He's going down."

Suddenly, everything stopped.

A hum filled the room.

It came from the center of the elevated platform, where Kurozuchi now stood shirtless.

He unlatched a pair of restraints from his arms, revealing needle scars and bruised veins.

A vial of crimson fluid gleamed between his fingers, the same substance used on his shadows.

But this vial glowed brighter.

"I've spent years perfecting this," Kurozuchi said, lifting the vial skyward. "I watched as you honored the past… clinging to dusty styles and philosophies."

He crushed the vial in his palm.

"I am not a martial artist anymore…"

He brought the shards to his chest, piercing the skin, and screamed as the liquid poured into his bloodstream.

"…I am the future!"

His body convulsed.

Veins bulged across his arms like cables.

Muscles inflated, mutated, and twisted under the surface.

His spine cracked audibly, shoulders stretching beyond normal dimensions.

His irises turned a deep violet, and dark lines traced upward from his neck like roots crawling toward the brain.

Kurozuchi exhaled, no longer the man who'd once lost to Retsu Kaioh.

He had become something else.

"A god of the new age," he said, voice now a deep resonance that echoed off the steel. "And your era ends now."

From the center of the platform, he leapt, not like a human—but like a missile, crashing toward the battlefield below.

Everyone looked up.

Saitama blinked. "Guess he's finally done monologuing."

Kurozuchi landed like a meteor.

The metal floor dented and split under his impact, shockwaves rippling outward like an earthquake.

Shadows and fighters alike stumbled. Steel beams groaned from the pressure. Dust rose around him like a cloak, and when it cleared—

He was no longer just a man.

His muscles bulged with inhuman symmetry, like something sculpted out of nightmare.

His skin bore blackened veins glowing faintly red beneath the surface, his pupils now slits. His entire presence was a declaration of domination.

Retsu narrowed his eyes. "That… is no longer martial arts."

"That's not even biology," Doppo added, gripping his side.

Kurozuchi raised his hand, and with a casual motion, one of his own shadows burst into mist behind him, its body atomized by raw pressure.

"The weak will no longer be pitied," he declared. "The past will be broken. And the name 'Hanma' will mean nothing!"

His gaze drifted toward the collapsed forms of Baki and Jack. Kozue shielded Baki's body instinctively.

But before Kurozuchi could move—

A voice rang out from the dust.

"Hey."

Everyone turned.

Standing in the same spot he had occupied for the last few minutes, unnoticed… was Saitama.

His gloved hand still clutched a plastic bag containing miso paste. The corner had ripped slightly during the quake. He looked annoyed.

"You dropped me right where I needed to go, so thanks," he said, scratching his cheek. "But you crushed my miso."

Kurozuchi blinked, not recognizing him.

"You. You're that bald spectator."

"Yep," Saitama said. "Saitama. Hero for fun."

Kurozuchi's warped brow twitched.

"Out of my way."

He rushed forward, an explosive dash fueled by augmented muscle and chi. The world blurred behind him.

Saitama didn't move.

Kurozuchi's fist came straight for Saitama's face with enough force to crater the floor.

But—

Thwip.

Saitama flicked his finger.

Just once.

The flick met Kurozuchi's knuckles mid-air.

The result was immediate.

CRACK.

Kurozuchi's entire body folded backward like he'd been struck by a falling steel beam.

He flipped in the air, tumbling thirty feet before crashing into one of his own walls—embedding into it with a boom that rattled the entire chamber.

Silence.

Doppo's cigarette dropped from his lips. "What the hell…"

Retsu's mouth opened, shut, then opened again. "Did he just…"

Oliva stood agape like he had seen a ghost.

Saitama exhaled and inspected the miso bag again.

"I really wanted this with dinner too…"

Jack, barely conscious, blinked from the ground. "What… what was that?"

Kozue whispered, "One flick…"

Hanayama, standing nearby with blood still on his coat, stepped forward solemnly. "One flick man."

The shadows hissed in confusion, looking back and forth between their downed master and the man in a plain hoodie.

Saitama looked up at them, completely expressionless.

"Anyone else want a try?"

None moved.

None dared.

And far in the distance… Kurozuchi stirred. But something had cracked, not just in his body, but in his mind.

He had seen the abyss.

And it was bald.

Everyone's eyes remained fixed on the crater where Kurozuchi had fallen. A cloud of steam rose around the embedded villain. For a moment, it seemed over.

Then… the walls cracked.

BWOOM.

Kurozuchi exploded out of the steel shell with a beast-like howl, limbs grotesquely reshaping mid-leap.

His veins pulsed violently, face stretched in something between agony and rage. The pills had worked, twisting what remained of his humanity into something monstrous.

His muscles had tripled in density, black and red veins snaking like wires across his arms.

His aura, once suffocating, now felt like it was alive—slashing at the senses of everyone nearby like claws on flesh.

Oliva stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "What is that..."

Retsu narrowed his eyes. "He's still standing after that? That flick destroyed a reinforced wall."

Doppo clenched his teeth. "This isn't evolution… it's obsession."

Baki stirred, still bloodied and half-conscious. Kozue held onto him tighter as he looked up. "He's… back?"

Jack lay sprawled against the rubble, whispering. "That bastard's willpower is inhuman…"

Suddenly—

CRACK.

A shadow detached itself from the furthest wall.

The air shifted. The presence was unmistakable.

Footsteps echoed slowly.

Boots. Bare chest. A demon's grin etched in calm arrogance.

Yujiro Hanma had arrived.

No warning. No declaration.

He simply stepped forward like he owned the floor, because in his eyes, he did.

His gaze passed over Saitama, then to Baki, then to Kurozuchi. And only then did he speak.

"…You're still alive after that?"

Kurozuchi's twisted face grinned, blood pouring from his gums.

"Yujiro."

Yujiro didn't smile.

"I've been watching. You let my sons bloody you. You let a bald man flick you into a wall. And yet you still call this your war?"

He stepped off the upper ledge, landing with a thud so dense the floor itself flinched.

"I don't care about your ideology. Or your pills. Or your goddamn shadows."

He cracked his neck.

"But I'm here now. And you will lose."

Kurozuchi roared and charged, augmented legs pushing with sonic force.

Yujiro's eyes twitched.

SLAM!

The two titans collided mid-platform. The impact shattered the foundation beneath them.

Fissures spread in all directions.

The air turned white with pressure.

Oliva raised an arm just to keep his footing.

Saitama stood silently, expression unreadable.

Yujiro grabbed Kurozuchi's mutated arm, twisted it at an impossible angle, then elbowed him so hard the lab's lighting flickered.

But Kurozuchi didn't fall. He spun, hit Yujiro with a jaw-rattling knee, then drove his forehead into the Ogre's sternum.

BOOM!

Yujiro slid backward across the floor… laughing.

"This… is fun."

Kurozuchi howled, wild with power and fury.

They clashed again—blows too fast to be seen, power rippling off their every strike like tsunamis.

Retsu, Oliva, and Doppo all backed away.

"Should we intervene?" Doppo asked.

"No," said Oliva, jaw tight. "That's beyond our level now."

Kurozuchi lunged for Yujiro's throat, but Yujiro's leg coiled, then snapped upward into a flying axe kick that bent Kurozuchi's spine in half.

He fell.

Twitching. Snarling. Foaming.

But still conscious.

Yujiro walked toward him. "You fought hard. But you forgot one thing…"

His fist drew back, calmly.

"There's always someone stronger."

He punched once.

Just once.

And Kurozuchi's mutated form stopped moving.

Silence returned.

Retsu exhaled. "Is it finally over?"

Oliva watched the fallen form. "God, I hope so."

But then—

A cold wind swept through the labyrinth.

From the pool of shadows where Kurozuchi's body lay…

A second shape began to rise.

Slimmer. Taller. Eyes burning with something far beyond hatred.

A voice echoed, quiet but absolute.

"…So this is the world Saitama shaped…"

Retsu froze. "That voice…"

Kurozuchi's body split open like a cocoon. From inside, a new form stepped forward—shoulders hunched, markings across his chest, silver hair floating as if underwater.

He looked at Saitama with a grin of recognition.

"…I sent you here so that I could get some time to recover."

Saitama narrowed his eyes.

"Garou?"

Empowered by the void that had absorbed Kurozuchi's will. Returned through time. Ready for one final battle.

Retsu whispered, "Saitama… this one's for you."

Saitama dropped his miso bag, slowly stepping forward.

His eyes locked with Garou's.

The storm wasn't over.

It had just begun.

TO BE CONTINUED...