Sharp Fang's excitement deflated instantly. His rat face twisted with embarrassment.
The other Tiger-levels exchanged nervous glances—stammering, avoiding eye contact. No answers came.
Finally, a Minotaur monster stepped forward. Sweating. Trembling.
"R-reporting... reporting to Lord... we only work and fight over territory. Sometimes we hear other monsters bragging. But..."
He swallowed hard.
"The Association's major affairs? The cadre Lords' situations? We truly don't know!"
Cannon fodder. Bottom-feeders. Daily survival struggles. No access to higher-ups.
That was Demon-level territory. And above.
Jack: "..."
Right. Expecting intel from these useless beings was my mistake.
But the Minotaur's words sparked something.
Fight over territory, huh?
So... accidentally eliminating a few colleagues shouldn't be a problem, right?
Interesting. Very interesting. Team-building activity, added to schedule.
"Fine."
Jack shelved his schemes. Switched to practical matters.
"Where do you get Rover's food?"
Sharp Fang perked up. Finally—something he knew!
"Lord! This subordinate knows!"
He rattled off eagerly.
"Lord Pochi's food—two types! One: large creatures caught from nearby mountains and forests. Two: large monster corpses sent by higher-ups. Need processing!"
"That scoundrel Slime Octopus handled it. I saw him use Monster Cells to modify corpses—made them exhibit monster traits. Bigger. Chewier."
Ah. That explains the huge corpses from before.
"Understood. Everything stays the same."
Jack nodded approvingly at Sharp Fang. Turned to his Tiger-level underlings.
"You few—hunting duty. Step it up."
"Increase reserves. Select the best meat for Lord Pochi."
"YES, LORD!"
The Tiger-levels scrambled to obey. Familiar task. Octopus had assigned it before.
Soon they were shouting, organizing Wolf-level mobs, flooding into passages to execute their new boss's first order.
"Sharp Fang. Another task."
"Lord! Your subordinate is here! Command me!"
Jack gazed down at the eager rat.
"Go to the human city. Bring me the latest newspapers."
Sharp Fang's eyes gleamed. Important task! Trust!
"Lord! This humble one has no other skills—but I'm FAST!"
"I guarantee completion!"
Jack waved.
"Go."
"YES, LORD!!"
The next day.
Jack sat on his crude rock throne. A thick stack of newspapers rested on the wide armrest.
Sharp Fang had delivered. Dozens of papers—all published that day. One night's work.
Jack flipped through the Z-City Times. Entertainment section.
Weekly Hero Rankings—freshly released.
His eyes scanned.
"Cyborg" Genos? Not in S-Class.
He breathed out.
Genos hasn't joined yet. Main storyline probably hasn't started.
Good. No waking up to Hero Association invasion.
He flipped further.
"New A-Class Rank 1, Sweet Mask, Wins Public Popularity Poll!"
Sweet Mask. Gatekeeper. Keeping incompetents out of S-Class since forever.
"Newly promoted" means he just took that spot.
More flipping. More clues.
Until—
"SHOCKING! 21st SUPER FIGHT Champion 'Werewolf' Exposed as Impostor! Police Investigation Underway!"
Jack's eyes lit up.
Saitama participated in the 22nd tournament. For "martial arts experience." Definitely not for the 3 million prize money.
So this means...
He grinned beneath his mask.
Timeline confirmed.
This tournament ran every six months. And the "impostor" who'd effortlessly claimed the championship?
Garou.
Which meant—less than six months until the main storyline kicked off. Until Vaccine Man appeared. Until everything went sideways.
"Good. Still plenty of runway."
Heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
A stone monster trudged out of the darkness—laborer-type, sweatband wrapped around its rocky head. It dropped a burlap sack at Jack's feet. Turned. Left. No words.
Jack: ???
Postman. Gyoro Gyoro's delivery service.
"Hey! Wait! Daily or weekly delivery?!"
The stone monster ran. Heavy strides. Silence.
Jack's mouth twitched.
Can't kill it. What if deliveries stop?
Does this guy share one brain cell with every Stone Person on the planet?
He dismissed the thought. Flicked a finger.
A blade of wind slashed—the rope binding the sack snapped instantly.
Hundreds of deformed flesh chunks spilled out. Pulsing. Twitching. Beating like hearts.
Monster Cells.
Jack's eyes blazed.
S-Class Sugar Mommy delivers.
This haul alone? Nearly matched Slime Octopus's entire hoard.
Freeloading never tasted so good.
No hesitation. He grabbed. Converted.
[ Conversion successful! Origin Points +10,000! ]
The nearly empty counter surged. Broke five figures again.
Overgrowth Lv5, here we come.
Excitement warred with helplessness.
Excitement—because his power would explode again.
Helplessness—because SSR upgrades were a bottomless pit. Ten thousand points? One level. Max level? Evolution to UR? A distant dream.
Can't just stack SSRs. Slots fill up. No deletions.
What if I stumble on a UR opportunity—and have nowhere to put it?
Despair.
He exhaled. Adjusted strategy.
Need low-rarity abilities too. Cheap. Easy to max. Functional. Fill gaps. Enhance versatility.
But first—
[ Consumed 8000 Origin Points. 「Overgrowth (SSR)」 Lv4 → Lv5! ]
Power surged—his now-accustomed body absorbed the geometric growth. Attributes skyrocketed. Energy reserves ballooned.
The terrifying fluctuations faded. Red light dimmed with each breath. His height stretched—tens of centimeters more. Demon-level aura deepened. Solidified.
Stronger.
Again.
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