"By the way, King, where's the game console?"
Sensing King was already having second thoughts, Jordan deliberately changed the subject.
"Come on, let's get it out. Since we still have some time before midnight snack, let's play a game first."
When it came to playing games, King's expression immediately softened. His face stopped looking sour, and he straightened his back.
"Oh, okay. It's in my other bag. I'll go get it now."
Five Minutes Later
The words "GAME OVER" appeared on the TV screen. Jordan stared in disbelief, unable to comprehend why—even though he'd entered Spider-Time—he still couldn't interrupt the relentless combo performed by King's game character.
Is this what they call talent?
"Stop hitting him! Stop hitting him! His already dead!"
His own character screamed and collapsed to the ground. Jordan put down the controller in frustration. "King, I know your strength very well. From now on, the task of challenging you will be handed over to Saitama."
Seeing that Jordan had conceded defeat, King—who'd been wearing a bitter expression—finally smiled slightly. "Hehe. Games are indeed one of the few areas where I'm actually good at something."
"Hey, hey, hey! The seafood hot pot is here~"
Just then, Saitama arrived carrying the hot pot. Jordan quickly used his psychic power to cut off the game console. The defeat screen on the TV immediately turned into a blue screen.
"Alright, cut that part out and stop broadcasting. Let's go get some late-night snacks!"
King smiled broadly. "Okay."
The TV screen switched back to the free disaster channel. As one ingredient after another was served, the atmosphere in the living room instantly became lively.
Jordan used telekinesis to suspend the food items that wouldn't fit on the coffee table in mid-air. "Saitama, is there any beer left in the fridge?"
Saitama got up and walked toward the refrigerator. "Is there? I remember you brought a lot last time."
"Let's open two more cases to celebrate. We've gained another member to our hot pot team."
With everything ready, the three of them each opened a bottle of beer.
As various ingredients were added to the pot, Jordan and Saitama began their first battle for the meat slices as they cooked.
King suddenly felt a lump in his throat as he looked at the scene before him, realizing how lonely he'd been in the past twenty-seven years of his life.
"Thank you, Mr. Jordan and Mr. Saitama!"
"Huh? Why are you suddenly getting emotional?"
"Don't be shy! Hot pot is something you have to grab quickly, or there won't be any left!"
Looking at the empty hot pot with only broth remaining, King couldn't help but question his life.
Has anything even been cooked in this pot just now?
Seeing that King hadn't eaten a single bite, Saitama pushed the boiled, pinkish-white octopus slices toward him. "Want to try some? They're delicious boiled octopus slices! And I've made my special wasabi sauce!"
"Octopus slices..."
King subconsciously thought of the giant octopus monster that had almost killed him that afternoon. He was about to say thank you when he heard Jordan—who was adding vegetables to the pot—say, "I suggest you don't eat this. It's cooked, but you'll most likely get diarrhea."
King withdrew his chopsticks without hesitation. His decisive action made Saitama's vision go black on the spot.
"Hey! There's a limit to slander!"
Two Hours Later
The three of them had eaten and drunk their fill.
King, who was in the worst physical condition, had already vomited twice in the toilet. Even Saitama was a bit drunk, clinging to Jordan's leg and refusing to let go, vowing to fight another three hundred rounds.
Jordan kicked Saitama back and used telekinesis to clean up the mess on the floor. "Alright, alright. I'll do the dishes today. The rest of the stage is yours!"
"Stage? What stage?"
Saitama looked bewildered, but King snapped out of it. He took a sip of herbal tea to help him sober up, picked up the controller from the ground, and said, "So, Saitama, are you going to challenge me too?"
"A game?" Saitama instinctively took the controller. His interest was piqued. "Sure! I'm really interested in playing games!"
After vomiting, King had regained his composure. A confident look flashed across his face. "Then let's do it!"
In the Kitchen
Jordan separated the dishes and trash, then called out the all-powerful F-boy.
F-boy considerately waved to signal the main body to get lost, fully understanding Jordan's eagerness to watch Saitama get tortured to death. He picked up the apron hanging on the wall, tied it on, and entered housekeeping mode.
Fortunately, the two people in the living room didn't have time to pay attention to the kitchen right now. Otherwise, they would have seen the eerie scene of an apron floating in the air while doing housework.
When Jordan arrived in the living room, Saitama had already sensed something was wrong.
"Wait a minute! Why isn't my controller responding? I clearly pressed the counter button!"
"Because I countered your counterattack the instant you tried to counter it."
King calmly said this while simultaneously unleashing a powerful attack from his game character, cleanly and decisively depleting Saitama's health.
Saitama shook his head, skeptical. "It must be because I drank too much. Let's try again!"
Half an Hour Later
After bringing King's character to the brink of death, Saitama watched helplessly as King effortlessly executed a godlike maneuver—turning the tide with a single-handed shield counter that resulted in a ten-kill comeback.
Life's great joys and sorrows can happen in an instant. After experiencing an unprecedented defeat, Saitama let out a scream. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground.
Saitama has been defeated 108 times and is unable to rise again.
King, with an air of mastery, picked up the still-warm teacup beside him and took a sip.
The Polaroid camera in Jordan's hand captured this precious moment.
After taking some time to handle the police station's affairs for the week, Jordan quickly left at Anzu's urging.
The so-called "processing" simply involved signing documents that required his approval. The Special Affairs Section of Z-City had long since taken on the form of a certain Black Widow.
The hands-off manager was naturally happy with this outcome.
With a snap of his fingers, he arrived at the park and saw King—wearing a mask of pain—doing squat training under Saitama's supervision.
"48... 49... Keep it up! Just one more and you'll break 50! King, you can do it!"
King's tall but not particularly strong body crouched down shakily. Large drops of sweat streamed down his scars, veins bulging on his forehead. Intense emotions coalesced into a suppressed roar.
"50! You did it!"
"No... I can't take it anymore..."
King plopped down on the grass in the park, panting heavily as if completely exhausted.
"That's it for today's training. If I keep this kind of terrifying training volume every day, I'll definitely die from overwork!"
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