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I am Saitama - Chapter 30: The Strongest in the Universe (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2025-08-11 00:24:50 +0000 UTC"Who destroyed it?" said the cyclops alien, his voice deep and resonant, carrying an almost physical weight.
The air went still. Every S-Class hero on the rooftop, from the stoic Atomic Samurai to the twitchy Tatsumaki, stood tense, eyes locked on the towering figure.
Saitama narrowed his eyes slightly. Genos was just beside him, having adopted already a defensive pose.
I can’t believe Boros is here. I mean, I knew he was supposed to be tough—second only to Cosmic Garou, at least that’s how it was in my old world’s life—but seeing him up close… yeah, he’s got that whole ‘end-of-the-world boss fight’ vibe.
He flexed his fingers casually, though his mind was already deciding on the quickest way to end this before the situation got out of control.
Unfortunately, before he could act, he noticed two very familiar silhouettes step forward.
Wh—what are these idiots doing?! Saitama thought in alarm.
Tanktop Master and Metal Bat were already halfway across the rooftop, closing the distance with Boros like they were walking up to a rowdy drunk in a bar.
“Stop! Don’t get close to him!” Sitch barked, his normally composed voice cracking with urgency. He was practically sprinting toward them.
“Tanktop Master! Metal Bat! Fall back immediately!” Child Emperor shouted from behind a defensive gadget he was hastily assembling.
This is bad!! The scanners I installed on my backpack allow me to guess the average strenght from any opponent just from seeing them, and that guy’s force…it’s off the charts, if they face him, they will die, the only form to defeat him is that all of the S-Class Works together, although that is very much impossible. Thought Child Emperor.
“Oi, are you two dense?!” Tatsumaki yelled, her psychic energy already curling around her like a storm. “You’re gonna get yourselves killed before I even get to throw a punch!”
Even Atomic Samurai’s usually calm face was set in a deep frown. “That’s not an opponent you approach without knowing what he can do.”
But the warnings slid right off them.
“So… you’re the alien that wanted to invade Earth, eh?” Metal Bat said, his voice carrying that trademark teen-gang swagger.
“You don’t seem so tough. Maybe the Association overreacted,” Tanktop Master added in a low, steady tone, looking Boros up and down like he was appraising gym equipment.
Boros didn’t answer. His single, glowing eye remained fixed, unblinking. He didn’t even shift his head—but the atmosphere thickened. Somehow, it felt like that eye was peeling back every layer of their being, dissecting them down to the molecule.
He had already analyzed the three in front of him. And, truth be told, he wasn’t impressed.
Tanktop Master either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He leaned forward, lowering his head slightly so his gaze was level with Boros’s.
“What do you say? Wanna face me and let me get all the credit for destroying the alien invader?”
A faint flicker of light passed through Boros’s eye.
RAS!
It happened faster than anyone could register—anyone except Saitama. One second, Tanktop Master’s face was inches from Boros’s; the next, his head was sailing through the air, eyes still wide in shock. Meanwhile, the body of the hero dropped down, with blood coming out on jets from the decapitated neck and spilling it all across the rooftop.
Metal Bat jerked back instantly, his instincts kicking in. He landed a few paces away, weapon raised, eyes wide in a mixture of rage and shock. His grip on his weapon tightened until his knuckles whitened.
“You bastard…” he growled, shoulders trembling with the urge to charge.
“Stand down!” Bang’s voice cut like steel, his feet already sliding into a ready stance. “That’s not an opponent you rush!”
Tatsumaki’s eyes were wide for the briefest second—surprise—before narrowing to a dangerous glare. “Okay, fine. I’ll crush him.” Her psychic aura flared brighter.
Child Emperor ducked behind a barrier, barking at his drones to deploy shields. “Everyone get back! His combat level… it’s off the charts!”
Sitch’s face was pale. “We can’t—! This isn’t—! Everyone maintain distance! Don’t provoke him!” He was practically choking on his own words.
Puri-Puri Prisoner’s expression had gone cold, his usual flirtatious smile replaced by something grim. “That strength… is like nothing I’ve seen before.”
Even Zombieman paused mid-puff, his cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. “…Well. We’re screwed.”
Saitama took a step forward, ignoring the chaos around him. His brow furrowed just slightly.
That’s enough. If he keeps this up, the body count’s gonna go way higher.
But before he could take another step, Boros moved.
A low, resonant hum filled the air—no, not a hum, a pressure. The alien’s shoulders tensed, and cracks spiderwebbed across the ornate armor plating his torso.
Then, with nothing but raw force, Boros flexed.
CRAAACK—SHATTER!
The armor exploded outward in chunks, metal shards clattering across the rooftop. The sudden release of energy was like a dam breaking—the air itself seemed to compress, then whip outward in a concussive wave.
A blinding, searing aura burst from Boros’s body, spiraling up into the clouds like a raging inferno. The sheer pressure punched into the rooftop, splitting concrete and twisting steel supports beneath their feet.
The floor shuddered violently. Walls groaned. Loose debris rattled and skittered away as the whole building seemed to quake under the strain of his unleashed power.
Several heroes staggered, some forced to brace themselves against the shockwave. Tatsumaki’s psychic barrier flickered for a moment before stabilizing.
Saitama narrowed his eyes at the sight, the wind from Boros’s aura whipping his cape around violently.
…Yup. This is worse than how the situation went in the anime. Much worse actually so I should stop him, but…for some reason…I can’t move.
He didn’t realize it at first, but his body had already locked up. Not because of injury or hesitation—this was something deeper. An instinctual, almost animal reaction. Boros’s aura wasn’t just “strong” in the usual sense; it carried with it a suffocating, predatory weight. It wasn’t like seeing a normal villain’s killing intent—this was something different.
In his old life, back when he was just a normal fan watching this series on a screen, Boros had been intimidating, sure. But now… standing in front of him, feeling the way his very presence made the air feel heavier, it was different. This wasn’t fictional anymore. His senses screamed at him with the same panic you’d feel if a tiger locked eyes on you in the wild.
This wasn’t logical fear—he knew Boros wasn’t invincible to him, that he had the power to win. But the fear was primal, buried so deep in the brain it didn’t listen to reason. Like staring down a spider the size of a car—you know you could crush it, but your body revolts anyway.
Meanwhile, Boros’s single, unblinking eye swept across the rooftop like a predator scanning a herd. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the low hum of his aura grinding against the air. His gaze wasn’t random—it was calculating.
Over decades of conquering and razing worlds, Boros had honed a rare, ruthless instinct: the ability to gauge an opponent’s true strength through nothing but observation. Not their stance, not their weapons—just the raw presence they carried.
Within seconds, his evaluation of the heroes was complete. Half of them—if he were being generous—wouldn’t last even a minute against him. Of the rest, only two stood out as anything close to a threat: the floating green-haired woman radiating psychic force, and the bald man in the cape whose expression was unreadable.
It was enough to decide his next move.
“I will repeat my question,” Boros said at last, his voice low but heavy enough to make the air feel denser. Every hero instinctively tensed, muscles coiling, hands tightening on weapons. Even those who knew they couldn’t win braced themselves out of sheer reflex.
“Who destroyed my ship?” His eye narrowed as if daring someone to lie. “I’m not a fool. I know exactly how to identify strong foes just by looking at them. Half of you don’t even have the capacity to attempt it. But…” His gaze moved between Tatsumaki and Saitama, his arm slowly rising. “If I had to guess, it was either the only female here… or the bald male.”
His index finger pointed first at Tatsumaki, then swung unerringly to Saitama.
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
Tatsumaki’s brow furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. Saitama kept his casual stance, but inside, he knew exactly what was standing in front of him—and what it could do. The knowledge from his “other life” screamed that this was going to spiral fast if someone didn’t keep Boros’s focus contained.
Tatsumaki’s own reasoning was simpler but no less sharp. She’d just watched Boros dispatch Tanktop Master—a man with enough strength to shatter buildings—with a casual, almost bored gesture. Even if he wasn’t one of the Association’s strongest, that kind of ease was terrifying. If Boros turned his attention to the weaker heroes, they’d be gone before anyone could react.
The alien was coiled tight, on edge. She could see it in the way his stance never shifted, in the stillness of his deadly frame. If no one answered him soon, he’d start killing at random until his question was satisfied.
Her mind flicked between options. She could admit it was her to protect the baldy—not that she liked him. In fact, she couldn’t stand him. The blank face, the vacant eyes, the way he seemed like he was just there. Something about him irritated her on a level she couldn’t explain. Maybe it was his dumb face. Maybe she just hated most people anyway.
But then another thought crept in.
If Blast were in my place, what would he do?
She clicked her tongue, grinding her teeth. Tch. Damn it. You owe me one, baldy.
She floated forward slightly, folding her arms with exaggerated confidence. “I was,” she said sharply, eyes locked on Boros. “I shot down your ship. So… what are you gonna do, you stupid cyclops?”
The words hung heavy in the air and for a heartbeat, the rooftop was dead silent.
Then the S-Class erupted.
“Wait, Tatsumaki!” Flashy Flash’s voice was sharp as a blade, but she ignored him completely.
“Are you insane?!” Sitch’s voice cracked with panic, his hands half-raised as if that would somehow shield him from what was coming. “Don’t provoke it! He’s already killed one of you!”
“Oi, Tornado! Don’t go soloing the alien boss!” Metal Bat barked, gripping his bat like he was ready to sprint forward anyway.
“Stand down, all of you!” Atomic Samurai ordered, his sword already halfway drawn despite the words.
Saitama… stayed, still paralyzed. But inside?
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap—she just pulled the trigger!
He’d seen Boros fight Tatsumaki in fan animations before, but in the canon anime? This fight never happened. She wasn’t supposed to be the one dealing with Boros—he was.
She’s strong, yeah, but Boros isn’t your average city-flattening monster. If she goes all out here, the whole damn city is gonna look like a blender got dropped on it… and if she doesn’t go all out, she’s dead.
Boros didn’t flinch at her insult. Instead, the corners of his mouth curled into a slow, predatory grin. “Good. At least one of you isn’t a coward.” He stepped forward, the floor cracking under his foot as though it had been hit with a sledgehammer.
In the same instant, Tatsumaki’s hair whipped around her head in a sudden invisible gale. Her eyes flashed, and her psychic field flared outward like an emerald explosion.
“Let’s see how you like gravity when it’s turned against you!”
The air around Boros warped, a shimmering distortion closing in on him from all sides. For half a second, his aura pressed against it—then Tatsumaki clenched her fist.
The alien warlord was gone, yanked skyward so fast the air cracked like thunder. His body blurred into a streak of purple and silver against the smoggy sky, the shockwave of his launch knocking several of the weaker heroes to the ground.
Chunks of the rooftop tore away, spiraling into the air behind him as if the building itself was trying to chase him.
Saitama’s cape flapped violently in the backdraft, his eyes following Boros’s ascending shape. Yup. She’s pissed. And she didn’t hold back… oh man, if he comes back down swinging…
A distant boom echoed above the city as Boros’s body finally decelerated somewhere past the clouds. The psychic pressure around Tatsumaki’s small frame pulsed even harder—she was ready to follow through before he could counter.
Comments
firerock laser
Thanks for the chapter
