The royal banquet, despite its undercurrent of existential bewilderment, had at least served one purpose: it had formally (and very awkwardly) introduced Saitama to the ruling powers of Midgar. It had also, inadvertently, kickstarted Cid Kagenou's unexpected rebranding from "Sole Shadowy Overlord" to "Cryptic Commentator on Bald Demigod Shenanigans." The latter didn't have quite the same ring to it, but Cid was learning to roll with the punches – mostly because Saitama was delivering them, literally and figuratively.
The days that followed were a strange mix of tense vigilance and baffling normalcy. Shadow Garden, under Alpha's efficient command, fanned out across Midgar and its surrounding territories. Their mission: to assess the lingering damage from the dimensional incursions, hunt down any remaining Cult of Diablos operatives who might be emboldened by the chaos, and, most crucially, try to find any information on the "Master" Xylos had mentioned, or the source of the interdimensional instability.
Shadow himself, along with a core group of Alpha, Beta, and Epsilon (Delta was usually off trying to either impress Saitama with feats of strength or convince him to spar, much to everyone's terror), established a temporary command center in a discreetly commandeered, upscale townhouse near the rebuilt sections of the city. Cid had insisted on a location with good "brooding ambiance" – tall windows, shadowy corners, and a distinct lack of cheerful wallpaper.
Saitama and Genos, having been politely but firmly discouraged from "assisting" with the delicate intelligence-gathering operations (after Saitama had nearly caused an international incident by "helpfully" punching a suspicious-looking gargoyle off the Royal Treasury, which turned out to be just a very old, very valuable gargoyle), were given… a more leisurely assignment.
"Saitama-dono, Genos-dono," Shadow had intoned, his voice laced with carefully cultivated gravitas, "your… unique resonance… seems to act as a deterrent to lesser manifestations of chaos. Perhaps a… visible presence in the more populated areas of the city would serve as a beacon of reassurance to the populace, and a subtle warning to those who still lurk in the shadows." Translation: Please go look bored in public somewhere so you don't accidentally break our spy equipment or punch any more priceless historical artifacts.
Saitama, who had been idly trying to balance a teacup on his nose, brightened. "So, like, a walk in the park? Can we get ice cream?"
Genos nodded. "A public patrol is a logical deployment of your deterrent capabilities, Sensei. And I have identified several confectionary establishments that have recently reopened."
And so, while Shadow Garden delved into the murky underworld of cults and dimensional rifts, Saitama and Genos went for a stroll.
Their "patrol" through the recovering city was an exercise in surrealism. Civilians, still jumpy from the recent attacks, would see the gleaming, heavily armed cyborg and the bald man in the bright yellow jumpsuit, and their reactions ranged from cautious curiosity to outright, hushed reverence. Whispers followed them – "Is that him? The one who made the monsters disappear?" "They say he can shatter mountains with a sneeze!" "My cousin saw him look at a burning building and the fire just… went out!"
Saitama, blissfully unaware of the growing legend surrounding his every mundane action, was mostly focused on trying to find a decent souvenir shop. "They gotta have some cool t-shirts here, right? Maybe one with a dragon on it. Or that robe guy. He looks kinda cool, even if he talks funny."
Genos, meanwhile, was diligently scanning their surroundings for any signs of trouble, his internal processors cataloging every suspicious glance, every unusually dense shadow. He also, true to his word, guided Saitama to a newly opened ice cream parlor.
Saitama's joy at a triple-scoop strawberry-chocolate-vanilla swirl cone was a profound and beautiful thing to behold. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness in a world teetering on the brink of interdimensional chaos. Several onlookers, witnessing the supposed "Annihilator of Narratives" beaming with delight over a frozen dessert, found their fear subtly replaced by a strange, almost endearing sense of confusion.
Back at Shadow Garden's temporary headquarters, the atmosphere was decidedly less confectionary. Alpha was reviewing reports from the field, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"The Cult of Diablos is showing increased activity in the northern provinces," she reported to Shadow, who was dramatically silhouetted against a large window, gazing out at the city. "Small cells, but more aggressive than usual. They seem to be searching for something. Or someone."
Beta, meticulously cross-referencing data streams, added, "There are also persistent rumors of a 'Bloody Valkyrie' – a lone warrior of incredible skill and ferocity, clad in crimson, who has been dismantling Cult operations with brutal efficiency. Some descriptions match… Lady Aurora."
Shadow's hidden eyes narrowed. Aurora, the Witch of Calamity, the source of Diablos's power, and a figure deeply, tragically intertwined with his own (mostly fabricated) backstory. Aurora? Active? This complicates matters. Or… adds a delicious new layer of tragedy and betrayal to my narrative! Yes! "The Witch of Calamity stirs… The Cult's desperation grows. They sense their foundations crumbling."
Epsilon, monitoring arcane frequencies, suddenly tensed. "Lord Shadow! I'm detecting a significant arcane energy spike in the Old Arboretum district. It's… similar to the signature we encountered beneath the Crimson Tower, but… fractured. Unstable."
The Old Arboretum was a sprawling, ancient park on the outskirts of Midgar, known for its gnarled, ancient trees and shadowy, overgrown paths. It had always had a slightly eerie reputation, a place where old magics lingered.
"A residual pocket of Xylos's influence?" Alpha surmised. "Or perhaps the Cult attempting to harness its lingering power?"
"Potentially dangerous," Shadow mused. "The instability could lead to an uncontrolled release of corrupted energy. Or… it could be a trap." He turned from the window, his cloak swirling satisfyingly. "We will investigate. Alpha, Beta, Epsilon, with me."
As they prepared to depart, a thought struck Cid. A mischievous, slightly reckless thought. The Arboretum… it's a park. And who did I just send for a 'walk in the park'? Oh, this could be… serendipitous. Or an absolute disaster. Either way, it's content!
He subtly activated his communication device. "Delta. Report your current location and status of… Subject S."
Delta's enthusiastic voice crackled back. "Lord Shadow! Delta and Baldy are having super-duper fun! Baldy just won a giant fluffy bunny at a ring toss game! He's really good at throwing things! Now we're heading to the big park with the old trees! Baldy said he wanted to see if there were any squirrels big enough to fight!"
Shadow resisted the urge to sigh. Squirrels big enough to fight. Of course. "Delta. Maintain observation. And… try to ensure Subject S does not… overly exert himself on the local fauna." He cut the connection.
"A change of plans?" Alpha asked, noticing the slight shift in his demeanor.
"A minor… convergence of patrols," Shadow said cryptically. "Let us proceed to the Arboretum. And let us be… prepared for the unexpected."
The Old Arboretum was even more unsettling up close. The ancient trees loomed like skeletal sentinels, their branches twisted into grotesque shapes. A palpable miasma of old, decaying magic hung in the air, thicker and more cloying than the general atmospheric weirdness of Midgar. The arcane energy spike Epsilon had detected was centered deep within the park, in a secluded, overgrown grove.
As Shadow Garden moved silently through the shadowed paths, their senses heightened, they began to hear it – a low, guttural chanting, accompanied by the crackle of unstable magical energy. They were getting close.
They reached the edge of the grove and peered through the dense foliage. In the center, a group of robed figures – clearly Cult of Diablos members – were gathered around a crudely constructed stone circle. They were channeling energy into it, and the air above the circle shimmered with a sickly, purple-black light. The instability Epsilon had detected was palpable; the ritual was clearly on the verge of collapsing, or exploding.
"Amateurs," Shadow muttered with disdain. "They're trying to tap into the residual energies of a being far beyond their comprehension. They'll tear a new, uncontrolled rift if they're not careful." Or, more likely, blow themselves to smithereens. Which would be… less dramatically satisfying for me.
"We need to stop them," Alpha stated, her hand on her sword. "Before they unleash something even worse."
"Agreed," Shadow said. "On my mark—"
Suddenly, a loud, cheerful "Hey! Look, Genos! A really big, mossy rock! Think I can skip it across that pond?" echoed through the otherwise silent grove.
Shadow froze mid-gesture. Alpha's eyes widened. Beta's pen slipped. Epsilon facepalmed, a gesture of pure, unadulterated exasperation.
From the other side of the grove, lumbering into view with a giant fluffy bunny tucked under one arm and an ice cream cone (miraculously still intact) in the other, came Saitama. Genos followed dutifully, his optical sensors already locking onto the Cultists. Delta bounded excitedly beside them, sniffing the air.
The Cultists, startled by the sudden, cheerful intrusion, spun around, their chanting faltering. Their eyes, hidden in the shadows of their hoods, widened in disbelief as they took in the sight of a bald man in a hero costume holding a giant bunny, accompanied by a heavily armed cyborg and a wolf-girl.
"Who… who dares interrupt the sacred ritual of unveiling?!" one of the Cultists shrieked, his voice cracking with a mixture of indignation and alarm.
Saitama blinked, looking from the Cultists to the pulsating, unstable magic circle. "Oh, hey. More guys in robes. You guys having a barbecue? Smells kinda… burny." He took a lick of his ice cream.
One of the Cultists, apparently the leader, stepped forward, his voice trembling with rage. "You fools! You know not what you meddle with! We are on the verge of summoning forth a power that will cleanse this pathetic world! A servant of the true Master!"
Shadow, hidden in the foliage, resisted the urge to groan. Servant of the true Master? Oh, here we go again. Another mini-boss about to get casually deleted before I can even make my grand entrance.
The Cultist leader raised his arms, and the unstable energy above the stone circle pulsed violently. "Behold! The might of Gorgonax the Soul-Flayer!"
The purple-black light intensified, and with a wet, tearing sound, a creature began to emerge from the shimmering portal. It was… disappointing. Compared to the Star-Spawn or even Xylos, Gorgonax the Soul-Flayer looked like a badly animated, overly enthusiastic slime monster with too many tentacles and a distinct lack of fashion sense. It gurgled menacingly, flailing its slimy appendages.
Saitama finished his ice cream cone with a satisfied sigh. He handed the giant fluffy bunny to a slightly bewildered Genos. "Hold this for me, Genos. Don't want to get slime on Mr. Fluffles."
He then cracked his knuckles. "Okay. Soul-Flayer, huh? Sounds kinda dramatic. You guys really need to work on your monster names. They're all a bit… try-hard."
Gorgonax the Soul-Flayer, perhaps sensing that its dramatic entrance was being undermined, let out a gurgling roar and lunged at Saitama, its tentacles whipping.
Shadow, still concealed, watched with a sense of grim inevitability. Here it comes. The one-punch. The anti-climax. My moment to shine, stolen by a casual flick of the wrist…
But then, something unexpected happened. Or rather, something didn't happen immediately.
Saitama, instead of instantly obliterating Gorgonax, actually… dodged. He sidestepped a flailing tentacle with surprising agility, then hopped back as another slammed into the ground where he'd been standing.
"Whoa there, slimy," Saitama said, a flicker of something almost like… interest… in his eyes. "You're kinda quick for a blob."
Gorgonax gurgled again and lunged once more. This time, Saitama didn't just dodge. He… parried. He slapped a tentacle aside with an open palm, the impact making a wet, slapping sound. He then weaved under another, ducked a third, and actually seemed to be… engaging with the monster.
The Cultists stared, dumbfounded. Shadow Garden, watching from the bushes, was equally stunned.
"He's… he's not ending it immediately?" Beta whispered, her pen hovering uncertainly.
"Is he… toying with it?" Epsilon murmured, a strange expression on her face.
Even Shadow was taken aback. He's… fighting it? Like, a normal fight? Almost? What is this? Is he feeling merciful? Or is this monster actually, somehow, providing a sliver of a challenge?
Gorgonax, perhaps emboldened by not being instantly vaporized, pressed its attack, its tentacles a flurry of slimy, grasping appendages. Saitama continued to dodge, weave, and occasionally parry, his movements economical but effective. He wasn't using overwhelming force. He was just… avoiding getting hit, and occasionally giving Gorgonax a light tap that sent it stumbling back.
"You know," Saitama said, hopping over a sweeping tentacle, "you're not very strong, but you're persistent. And really, really slimy. It's like fighting a giant, angry booger."
The Cultist leader, seeing his summoned monstrosity actually lasting more than three seconds against an unknown assailant, regained a sliver of confidence. "Yes! YES! Gorgonax! Devour the infidel!"
It was at this point that Delta, who had been watching with growing impatience, finally snapped. "Baldy playing?! Delta wants to play too!" With a joyous howl, she leaped from the bushes, a furry cannonball of claws and teeth, and slammed into Gorgonax's flank.
The slime monster gurgled in surprise and pain as Delta began to tear into it with savage efficiency.
Saitama blinked. "Oh. Hey, dog-girl. Didn't see you there."
With Delta joining the fray, the "fight" quickly devolved. Gorgonax, already not much of a threat to Saitama, was no match for Delta's feral onslaught. Tentacles were severed, chunks of slime flew through the air, and the monster let out increasingly pathetic gurgles.
The Cultists, seeing their prized summon being torn apart by a wolf-girl while a bald man in a hero costume just watched, began to panic.
"This… this wasn't supposed to happen!" the leader shrieked. "Gorgonax was supposed to be invincible!"
Shadow decided this was as good an opportunity as any. He signaled to Alpha and Beta. "Now."
Shadow Garden erupted from the foliage, a blur of black and silver. Alpha and Epsilon moved to intercept the fleeing Cultists, their blades flashing. Beta, with surprising agility, disabled the unstable ritual circle with a precisely thrown energy disruptor.
Within moments, the Cultists were subdued, their ritual shattered, and Gorgonax the Soul-Flayer was reduced to a quivering, rapidly dissolving puddle of goo under Delta's relentless assault.
Saitama walked over and poked the remains of Gorgonax with his toe. "Huh. Guess he wasn't so tough after all. Just took a while to get going." He then looked at Delta, who was proudly shaking slime off her fur. "You're pretty strong, dog-girl."
Delta preened, her tail wagging furiously. "Delta strong! Baldy strong too, but Baldy was being slow!"
Shadow stepped out from the shadows, his cloak billowing (he'd made sure of it). He surveyed the scene – the subdued Cultists, the dissolving slime monster, the hyperactive Delta, and Saitama looking mildly disappointed that the fight was over so quickly.
"It seems," Shadow said, his voice resonating with its usual enigmatic authority, "that even the servants of the 'Master' are no match for… unconventional teamwork." He looked pointedly at Saitama and Delta. Teamwork? Saitama mostly watched and Delta did all the work in the end. But 'unconventional teamwork' sounds mysterious and implies I orchestrated it. Yes.
The Cultist leader, pinned to the ground by Alpha's blade at his throat, glared up at them. "You… you will all pay! The Master sees all! The true awakening is at hand! The Thirteen Night Blades will arise, and—" He choked as Alpha applied a little more pressure.
"Thirteen Night Blades?" Beta murmured, already making a note. "A new faction within the Cult? Or something else entirely?"
Shadow's interest was piqued. Thirteen Night Blades! Ooh, that sounds cool! Elite assassins? Ancient warriors? This could be a proper threat! Something even Saitama might have to take… slightly more seriously? Maybe?
As Alpha began to interrogate the captive Cultist, Saitama wandered over to Genos, who was still dutifully holding Mr. Fluffles. "So, Genos," Saitama said, taking back his giant bunny, "now that the park is safe from slimy monsters and creepy robe guys, you think that squirrel fighting league is still on?" He peered hopefully into the ancient, gnarled trees. "I got a shopping list of things I need to get before we go back to our dimension, you know. A new game console, some of that spicy jerky, and definitely a t-shirt with that robe guy's face on it. That'd be hilarious."
Shadow, overhearing the last part, felt a distinct twitch in his left eye. A t-shirt… with his face on it? The thought was both horrifyingly mortifying and, in a deeply buried, chuunibyou part of his soul… undeniably appealing.
The Arboretum was quiet now, save for the hushed interrogation and Saitama's musings on interdimensional shopping. The immediate threat was gone. But new whispers, new names, and new, absurd possibilities lingered in the air. The Eminence in Shadow's carefully crafted narrative was becoming a chaotic, unpredictable, and surprisingly entertaining ensemble comedy. And he was, much to his own chagrin, starting to enjoy the ride. A little.