Thump-thump-thump-thump!
The King Engine roared—rhythmic background music accompanying two afterimages exchanging basic straight punches without discernible pattern.
Slowed down, they'd look like complete amateurs who'd never received formal combat training. Yet the speed—imperceptible to ordinary human vision—granted them astonishing destructive power.
Fists collided with flesh. Each impact produced muffled thunder that shook the mountains.
Electrical current scattered during exchanges, blasting moon-crater rings into the earth. Once-lush landscape now resembled a devastated warzone.
A tall figure sat on a hillside overlooking the battlefield, tending a charcoal grill loaded with meat skewers and vegetables.
Food aroma wafted from the coals. Marinated fresh venison hung on a wooden rack nearby.
"It's already noon!" Jordan clapped his hands, shouting down toward the combat zone. "Let's take a break!"
The two afterimages exchanged one final punch, then used the momentum to separate.
King landed heavily—burly frame drenched in sweat, chest heaving. Saitama touched down opposite him, clothes burned to tatters by electrical current but barely perspiring.
"You're looking pretty presentable now, King." Saitama grinned, tugging at his shredded outfit. "Good thing I listened to Jordan's advice and brought spare clothes. Otherwise I'd get arrested as a pervert going home like this."
King wiped sweat from his face, voice modest despite exhaustion.
"I still have to thank both of you for the guidance."
The two chatted about their recent exchanges while walking toward Jordan's hillside position. After only a few steps, Saitama caught the grilled meat aroma and accelerated noticeably.
"Man, I'm starving!"
King smiled gently—the powerful warrior quickening his pace to keep up.
All three had substantial appetites.
Saitama used to eat less purely because he lacked money. If he ate freely, even competitive eating champions might struggle to match him.
So Jordan had hunted based on portions for ten people. Three adorable fawns had met their tragic end for this meal.
"Could you pass the cumin and chili powder?"
Meat strips disappeared from the rack one by one. Large amounts of energy replenished their bodies, compensating for combat expenditure.
Eventually Saitama collapsed to the ground, drooling as he fell into immediate sleep.
Jordan and King stood nearby, summarizing the morning's training results while discussing magnetic field power—the stage beyond "electrical current propulsion."
"Magnetic field rotation is more advanced than current propulsion," Jordan explained. "Following your training method, by accelerating cellular friction to even higher speeds, a magnetic field will eventually generate based on the electrical current foundation."
"I think I understand." King nodded thoughtfully. "It's somewhat similar to electromagnetic conversion principles from middle school physics."
"Yeah, that's a reasonable interpretation."
"Thank you, Jordan-san. I thought I'd soon reach my limit, but apparently my training has only just begun. Still need to keep working hard!"
"Don't underestimate yourself, King. You're already performing excellently."
As they conversed, Jordan's phone suddenly rang.
"Hello, this is Jordan Evans."
He paused, listening.
"Oh, Mr. Sitch. What can I do for you?"
Another pause.
"What does adding new S-Class members have to do with me? Shouldn't the association handle that internally?"
On the other end, Sitch glanced at documents his subordinate presented before explaining:
"Here's the situation, Super Cop. We've consulted our top A-Class hero, and based on his recommendation, we'd like to request your assistance conducting practical testing for the new S-Class candidate."
Jordan turned meat on the grill absently.
"Assisting with testing is no problem. May I ask which hero recommended me?"
"Amai Mask—A-Class Rank 1. He's very confident in your abilities!"
"...I see. I'll be there on time for the scheduled test."
Jordan hung up, completely bewildered.
Isn't Amai Mask supposed to be dismissive of most S-Class heroes' strength? How has he suddenly started acknowledging my capabilities?
It seemed that in areas he hadn't monitored, the timeline had shifted considerably.
Not that it mattered significantly. Although Amai Mask had a difficult temperament, his character as a hero was impeccable. Few heroes in the entire Hero Association were purer in their heroic ideals.
Strong individuals in the hero faction were already rare. Jordan naturally wouldn't mind making another ally.
"Something up with work, Jordan-san?"
Hearing King's question, Jordan waved dismissively.
"Nothing urgent. Not today, anyway. Small matter that can be completed quickly."
He stood, stretching.
"Rest a bit after lunch, then we'll continue this afternoon. King, you good with that?"
"Of course."
Jordan nodded. Chakra surged within him. He clapped his hands together.
"Ninja Art: Mixed Earth Release—Three-Bedroom, One-Living Room Technique!"
To King's astonishment, rumbling erupted from the ground beneath them.
A two-story duplex villa rose directly before his eyes.
Exquisite white marble pillars. Well-lit semi-transparent floor-to-ceiling windows. Dark blue decorative glazed tile roof. Intricately carved relief designs covering walls and architectural details.
From the nearby forest, lawns, flowers, and mature trees floated upward—spreading across the previously bare courtyard in perfect landscaping.
Finally, Jordan's chest expanded. A thick jet of water spurted from his mouth, landing entirely within a pebble-surrounded pool.
F-boy emerged from his body, carrying a stack of fantasy cards containing various furniture and appliances. The Stand floated into the villa to begin decorating.
Jordan patted imaginary dust from his hands.
"Finished. We can go inside and rest now."
"Wha—this—I—"
King, witnessing the entire sequence, stood speechless. His usual powerful demeanor completely shattered by sheer disbelief.
He'd known Jordan was strong, but this superpower of constructing buildings from nothing—too strong!
"WHAT'S HAPPENING?! WAS THAT AN EARTHQUAKE?! Huh..."
Saitama sprang up from his nap. About to wipe drool from his mouth, his eyes glazed over instead.
"Where... is this place?"
Wasn't the barbecue spot just a barren hillside moments ago?
What was this high-end manor villa doing here?!
"Still M-City," Jordan called out, leading toward the entrance gate. "Let's go take proper naps. Who sleeps on bare ground like that?"
Behind him, Saitama—after hearing King's explanation—couldn't help sighing with familiar déjà vu:
"Superpowers really are convenient!"
A-City, Hero Association Headquarters
"Super Cop, please follow me."
At the headquarters' seventh training ground, Sitch had been waiting. He approached Jordan immediately upon arrival.
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