The air between Shadow and Puddles thrummed with an unholy energy, a dissonant duet of controlled darkness and anarchic madness. The cobblestones beneath their feet vibrated, and the already crumbling buildings around them groaned as if under immense pressure. Puddles's form flickered more violently, the jovial clown makeup warping into a nightmarish visage – his smile a gaping, shadowy maw, his eyes burning like malevolent embers. The playful, cartoonish aura was gone, replaced by something raw, primal, and utterly terrifying.
Shadow, in contrast, was a pillar of absolute stillness. The darkness coalescing around him was not wild; it was a precisely controlled vortex, a miniature black hole drawing in light and hope. His presence was a silent scream, a promise of inevitable, crushing oblivion.
This is it! Cid's internal monologue was practically vibrating with excitement. The ultimate showdown! Master of Shadows versus Herald of Chaos! The very fabric of reality trembles! My legend will be sung for eons! Or, at least, Beta will write a really cool chapter about it!
"You reek of an order I despise," Puddles hissed, his voice now a layered chorus of discordant whispers and guttural growls. The ground around him began to crack and splinter, not from physical force, but as if the laws of physics themselves were unraveling at his presence. "Shadows are meant to dance, to writhe, to play! Not to be… managed."
"Order is the inevitable victor against chaos," Shadow intoned, his voice resonating with the chilling certainty of a prophecy. "Your fleeting, frantic dance is but a prelude to the silence I command." He slowly raised his ebony blade, the metal seeming to drink the ambient light, becoming a sliver of absolute nothingness. Oh, that was a good line. So deep. So cool.
The remaining "playmates," Puddles's bizarre minions, had either been incapacitated by the Shades or had scurried away in terror, sensing the monumental shift in their leader's power. The Seven Shades themselves had formed a defensive perimeter, their expressions grim. They knew their Lord Shadow was immensely powerful, but this clown… this Puddles… was radiating an aura of unpredictable, reality-warping danger they had never encountered before.
Alpha's gaze flickered between Shadow and Puddles, then, almost unconsciously, to Saitama, who was currently examining a loose thread on his glove with an air of profound concentration. She felt a strange dissonance. Two beings of unimaginable power were about to clash, a battle that could potentially rip this district, if not the city, apart. And the third, arguably the most bafflingly powerful individual present, seemed more concerned with his attire.
"Let's see how your 'order' likes a taste of true freedom!" Puddles shrieked. He didn't lunge. Instead, the reality around him bent. The ground beneath Shadow suddenly buckled and warped, transforming into a swirling vortex of cartoonish colors and impossible angles, like a scene from a deranged animation cell. Giant, grinning teeth made of cobblestones snapped upwards, aiming to devour Shadow whole.
Shadow didn't flinch. With a subtle shift of his weight, he seemed to become intangible, the warped ground passing harmlessly through him. The darkness around him pulsed, and the chaotic colors of Puddles's attack were snuffed out, replaced by the encroaching void.
"Illusions? Tricks?" Shadow's voice was laced with contempt. "The tools of the desperate."
Okay, gotta admit, that was a pretty cool trick, Cid thought. Reality warping on that level… this guy's no joke. But my 'I am the void that consumes all illusions' persona is holding up nicely!
Puddles cackled, undeterred. "Tricks? Oh, darling, these aren't tricks! This is Tuesday!" He clapped his hands, and the air itself seemed to solidify into dozens of oversized, brightly colored bouncing balls, each one radiating a palpable, unstable energy. They careened through the air, ricocheting off buildings, aimed at Shadow from all directions.
"Atomic Rain of Annihilation!" Shadow didn't shout the name of his technique; his movements were the declaration. His ebony blade became a blur, a whirlwind of impossible speed and precision. Each slash was not just a cut, but an erasure. He didn't just deflect the bouncing balls of doom; he unmade them. Where his blade passed, the chaotic energy dissipated, the colorful spheres vanishing with a faint, disappointed pop.
The display was breathtaking. Each movement was economical, fluid, a testament to years of (mostly self-imagined but now very real) training. The Seven Shades watched with rapt attention, their awe for their Lord Shadow reaching new heights.
Genos, too, was recording everything, his optical sensors working overtime. "The individual known as Shadow possesses extraordinary swordsmanship and energy manipulation capabilities. His control over that dark, viscous energy is precise and devastating. He is a formidable combatant, clearly operating on a level far beyond most S-Class heroes."
Saitama, having finished his glove inspection, finally looked up at the ongoing battle. "Huh. Lots of flashy lights. Kinda like a laser show, but with more screaming." He yawned. "Is it lunchtime yet?"
Puddles, however, was just getting started. His smile widened, stretching his face into a grotesque caricature. "Not bad, spooky-dooky! You can dance! But can you handle the punchline?"
He stomped his foot, and the very gravity in the area seemed to go haywire. One moment, Shadow was firmly on the ground; the next, he was being violently pulled sideways, as if the entire district had tilted on its axis. Simultaneously, giant, disembodied hands, seemingly made of solidified laughter and malice, erupted from the ground and walls, swiping and grabbing.
Shadow moved like a phantom. He flowed with the bizarre shifts in gravity, using the disorienting forces to his advantage, his cloak swirling around him like a living entity. His blade met the laughter-hands, and with each contact, a shriek of psychic pain echoed as the constructs dissolved.
"Your chaos is predictable in its unpredictability," Shadow stated, his voice calm amidst the storm. He was, internally, having the time of his life. This is exactly the kind of over-the-top, reality-bending fight I've always dreamed of! My chuuni heart is singing! I need to come up with a cool counter for this gravity thing… maybe 'Shadow's Dominion: Where I Define Up'.
But Puddles was relentless. He began to laugh, a wild, unhinged sound that seemed to fuel his powers. With every cackle, the chaotic energy around him intensified. The environment became a constantly shifting kaleidoscope of impossible threats: the ground turning to quicksand made of confetti, acid rain falling in the shape of grinning skulls, buildings twisting into monstrous caricatures that spewed streams of disorienting noise.
Even Shadow, for all his skill and (mostly feigned) stoicism, was being pushed. Not physically, perhaps, but he was forced to constantly adapt, to counter one bizarre attack after another. It was like fighting a hurricane made of bad dreams.
Okay, this is getting a little… much, Cid admitted to himself. His stamina, or whatever fuels this madness, is insane. And he's not even trying to land a decisive blow. He's just… reveling in the chaos. Drowning me in it. I need a finisher. Something big. Something… atomic.
He began to gather his energy, the darkness around him condensing, becoming so dense it seemed to distort the space around his blade. This was the prelude to his ultimate technique.
Puddles sensed the shift. His laughter faltered for a moment, his burning eyes narrowing. "Ooh, are we getting serious now? Don't want to break your concentration, but… LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!"
It was a childish taunt, a classic misdirection. Shadow, the master of feints and deceptions, would never fall for such a—
Suddenly, a giant, spring-loaded boxing glove, the size of a small car, erupted from the ground directly behind Shadow, where moments before there had been solid cobblestone. It was a ridiculously oversized, cartoonish weapon, yet it moved with impossible speed and was imbued with Puddles's chaotic, reality-bending energy.
Even Shadow, caught mid-power-up and momentarily distracted by the sheer audacity of the clown's tactics, was taken by surprise. He twisted, attempting to bring his blade around, but the glove was too fast, too unexpected.
THWOOMP!
The giant boxing glove connected squarely with Shadow's back.
There wasn't an explosion. Instead, Shadow was launched. He shot forward like a cannonball, a dark comet streaking across the ruined district, crashing through the already damaged Crimson Tower with a sound like a thunderclap, disappearing into a cloud of dust and debris on the other side.
Silence.
The Shades gasped in unison.
"Lord Shadow!" Alpha cried, her voice filled with genuine shock and concern.
"Impossible!" Beta whispered, her pen clattering to the ground.
Delta let out a roar of fury, ready to tear Puddles limb from limb.
Genos's optical sensors whirred. "Lord Shadow has sustained a direct, high-impact kinetic attack imbued with anomalous energy! His energy signature is… fluctuating, but still present! He is likely injured!"
Puddles cackled, a triumphant, ear-splitting sound. "Gotcha! Right in the brooding backside! Who's the master of misdirection now, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Taken-Unawares?" He dusted off his hands with theatrical flair. "He was tough, I'll give him that. But Puddles always gets the last laugh!"
He turned his attention to the remaining Shades, his smile now predatory. "Now, for the lovely party favors…"
But before Puddles could make a move, before the enraged Shades could launch their counter-attack, a quiet voice cut through the tension.
"Hey."
Everyone froze. Puddles, the Shades, even Genos. They all turned towards the source of the voice.
Saitama.
He had finally finished whatever he was doing with his glove and was now looking at Puddles with an expression that wasn't boredom, nor anger, nor even mild interest. It was… blank. Utterly, terrifyingly blank.
"You're being really loud," Saitama said, his voice flat, devoid of inflection. "And you hit that robe guy. He was kinda weird, but he didn't seem like a bad dude. Just trying to be cool, I guess."
Puddles blinked, his triumphant expression faltering. "Huh? What's this? The baldy speaks? Did I interrupt your naptime?"
Saitama took a step forward. Just one. But the entire atmosphere of the ruined district seemed to shift. The oppressive, chaotic energy radiating from Puddles, the lingering chill of Shadow's darkness – it all seemed to… dim. Recede. As if in the presence of something far more fundamental, far more absolute.
"You know," Saitama continued, his voice still quiet, but now carrying an unnerving weight. "I was trying to find out about a king crab sale. It's important. Seventy percent off. But then there were monsters, and portals, and then you showed up with your annoying music and your stupid toys."
He took another step.
"And now you're making a mess, and you're yelling, and you hit that guy. It's all just… really annoying."
Puddles's painted smile twitched. A flicker of something… primal, something like fear, flashed in his burning eyes. He could feel it. The overwhelming, ridiculous, impossible pressure emanating from this bald man in a cheap costume. It wasn't flashy. It wasn't dramatic. It was just… there. A mountain of indifference that could crush universes.
"W-what are you?" Puddles stammered, his bravado cracking. "What is this feeling?"
Saitama was now standing directly in front of Puddles. He looked up at the taller, flickering form of the chaos jester.
"You're in the way," Saitama said.
Then, he punched.
Not a "Normal Punch." Not a "Consecutive Normal Punches." Just… a punch. A single, straightforward, almost lazy-looking fist, aimed at Puddles's chest.
There was no sound. No shockwave. No explosion of light or energy.
One moment, Puddles the Clown, Herald of Chaos, Bender of Realities, was standing there, his form flickering with terrifying power.
The next moment, he was gone.
Not blown away. Not disintegrated. Not even atomized.
He just… ceased to exist.
The chaotic energy that had permeated the area vanished instantly. The ground stopped warping. The air cleared. The oppressive feeling lifted. It was as if Puddles, and everything he represented, had been a bad dream, abruptly ended.
The silence that followed was even more profound than before. The Seven Shades stared, their minds struggling to comprehend what they had just witnessed. They had seen Saitama one-shot the Star-Spawn, but that had been a brute force display against a mindless beast. This… this was different. Puddles had been intelligent, cunning, wielding powers that defied conventional understanding. And Saitama had erased him with the same casual indifference he'd shown to a common street thug.
Genos nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. "As expected of Sensei. Efficient."
Saitama lowered his fist, then flexed his fingers. "Huh. Guess he wasn't that tough after all. Just really loud." He looked around. "So… anyone see where that robe guy went? Hope he's okay. He kinda flew pretty far."
From the massive hole in the Crimson Tower, a figure slowly, painfully, began to extract himself from the rubble. Covered in dust, his cloak torn in several places, Shadow emerged, looking distinctly less composed than usual. He was leaning heavily, one hand clutching his side.
Cid Kagenou was in a state of profound shock, not from the physical impact (which, admittedly, had really hurt, more than any training accident ever had), but from the sheer, mind-numbing anticlimax.
He… he just… PUNCHED HIM?! Cid's internal world was collapsing. Puddles! The creature of pure, unadulterated chaos! The one who was giving ME, the Eminence in Shadow, a genuinely difficult fight! My grand nemesis for this arc! And this bald guy just… boop! Gone! No dramatic finisher! No cool one-liner from him! No final, desperate struggle! Just… POOF! My entire carefully constructed narrative arc… OBLITERATED! By a single, boring punch! AGAIN!
Shadow straightened up, wincing slightly, but quickly regaining his composed, enigmatic posture, albeit a slightly dustier version. He looked at the spot where Puddles had been, then at Saitama, then back at the empty space.
"The… dissonance… has been silenced," Shadow finally managed, his voice a little raspy. Okay, Cid, salvage this. Think! How can an Eminence spin this? Maybe… Saitama was my hidden trump card all along! Yes! I allowed Puddles to reveal his full power, luring him into a false sense of security, all so my 'unwitting' agent of destruction could deliver the final, decisive blow! Genius!
Saitama looked at Shadow. "Oh, hey, robe guy. You okay? You took a pretty big hit. That clown was a real jerk."
Shadow merely inclined his head, a gesture that could mean anything. "His chaotic reign was… fleeting. As all such fleeting things are, when faced with true, underlying order." He glanced pointedly at Saitama. Subtle. Imply that Saitama's power is an extension of MY order. Yes. That works.
The crisis, for now, seemed to be over. But the questions lingered, heavy in the dust-filled air. The walls between worlds were still bleeding. And two beings of utterly incomprehensible power, one a meticulously crafted enigma, the other an enigma by sheer, baffling accident, were now irrevocably entangled.