Chương 25: The Price of Fresh Cabbage

The afternoon breeze sweeping through Beacon Academy's newly paved courtyard carried the crisp, cool scent of the surrounding cliffs. Standing in the center of the flagstones, holding a wooden broom with a worn green bristle, Saitama stood completely motionless. He was dressed in his bright yellow suit, complete with the white cape fluttering lazily behind him, which had quickly become his standard attire again now that the heavy rubble-clearing had concluded.

Leaning against a stone balustrade nearby was Professor Peter Port, puffing out his barrel chest while patting his magnificent grey mustache. Beside him, Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck was practically vibrating, hovering over a highly concentrated thermos of coffee, his glasses slipping down his nose as his head jerked in micro-movements.

"And there I was, Mr. Saitama!" Port's booming voice echoed off the dormitory walls, rich with dramatic bravado.

"Cornered in the damp, unforgiving caverns of Mount Glenn! A pack of ancient Creeps, vile, subterranean beasts that would make a lesser huntsman soil his trousers, circling me in the pitch black! But did Peter Port falter? No! I gripped my trusty blunderbuss-axe, took a deep breath, and bellowed a battle cry that shook the very stalactites from the ceiling!" Saitama's eyes, rendered as simple, blank ovals, stared dead ahead at a small patch of moss growing between the cobblestones.

His brain had long since checked out. Port had been talking for forty-two minutes. The story had started with a breakfast menu in Vale and had somehow spiraled into a subterranean war. Man... Saitama thought, his chin resting on the top of his broom handle. This is exactly like when Genos first showed up at my apartment.

"Fascinating! Truly exemplary field execution, Peter!" Oobleck suddenly chirped, his speech accelerating like a runaway train.

"Though historically speaking, the Creep migrations of that decade were heavily influenced by the seismic shifts in the lower crust, which directly altered their nesting habits and forced them into localized territories! Mr. Saitama, did you know that the structural density of a Creep's hide actually decreases by twelve percent when deprived of direct subterranean minerals for extended periods? It's a marvelous adaptation!"

"Is that so..." Saitama muttered, his voice a flat, hollow drone.

"Indeed!" Port roared, completely ignoring Oobleck's scientific detour.

"But the real climax of the tale, my boy, was when I wrestled the pack leader! A beast of sheer malice! I threw aside my weapon, looked it dead in its glowing red eyes, and grabbed it by the tusks--" A sharp, authoritative click of heels against the stone floor cut through Port's grand climax. The three men turned to see Headmistress Glynda Goodwitch walking toward them. Her purple cape swept elegantly over her shoulder, her riding crop held precisely under her arm, and her eyes sharp behind her oval glasses.

"Excuse me," Glynda said, her voice cool and commanding.

"Professor Port, Professor Oobleck--""Doctor, Headmistress, if you please." Oobleck corrected her immediately.

"My apologize, Doctor Oobleck," Glynda continued.

"I must borrow our campus maintenance supervisor. Mr. Saitama, please follow me to my office. We have a matter of immediate academic restructuring to discuss." Saitama's face didn't change, but internally, his soul was weeping tears of absolute joy. He practically threw the broom into a nearby hedge.

"Right! Duty calls! Gotta go!" Saitama said, quickly stepping past the two professors, or rather, the professor and the doctor, with a sudden burst of speed that left a tiny gust of wind in his wake.

"Good luck with the... pig wrestling, mustache guy!" Port blinked, his hand still frozen in mid-air.

"Wrestling? It was a Creep, Mr. Saitama! A subterranean--""No time, Peter, no time!" Oobleck muttered, taking another rapid gulp of coffee.

"The Headmistress's scheduling is remarkably precise down to the millisecond!"

"You want me to do what now?" Saitama asked, his voice completely flat. The Headmaster's office was quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic ticking of the great clockwork gears turning overhead. Glynda stood behind the grand desk, while Saitama sat in a high-backed leather chair opposite her, looking incredibly small and casual despite his heroic attire.

"The position I am offering you is of the utmost educational importance," Glynda said, her patience stretched but holding steady. She adjusted her glasses, looking down at him with a practiced, administrative look.

"You would be designated as my 'Tactical Kinetic Evaluator' for the advanced combat classes."

"A what-now?" Saitama blinked, his oval eyes squinting.

"That sounds like a lot of big words for 'doing more work.'""On the contrary," Glynda explained, leaning forward and resting her hands on the desk.

"The job description is remarkably simple. It requires absolutely zero grading, no lesson planning, and virtually no physical exertion on your part. You do not need to teach, you do not need to lecture, and you certainly do not need to stress yourself. Your sole responsibility is to act as a defensive anchor, a baseline of physical resistance in the center of the arena." Saitama rubbed his bald head, looking skeptical.

"An anchor? So... I just stand around and look cool? Like one of those legendary martial arts masters who just sits on a rock and watches the disciples train?"

"Something like that," Glynda answered. A grand, vivid image flashed in Saitama's mind. He imagined himself standing majestically on a high podium, wearing his cape, stroking an imaginary beard while wise, profound words of strength flowed from his lips. The students would look up at him with sparkling eyes, murmuring:'Wow, Master Saitama is so badass! His silence is truly a lesson in itself!'

"Huh..." Saitama muttered, a small, dopey grin beginning to creep onto his face.

"A mentor, huh? I guess I could show 'em a thing or two about... posture. But still, I don't know. Sounds like it's gonna cut into my nap time." Glynda's eyes narrowed slightly. She had anticipated this. Slowly, with deliberate grace, she opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a small, glossy, brightly colored booklet. She slid it across the polished mahogany desk, letting it stop right in front of Saitama's hands. Saitama leaned forward, his eyes instantly locking onto the booklet. His breath hitched.

On the cover, in bold, glittering gold letters, it read: VALE INTERNATIONAL SUPERMARKET – 30TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION. Below it, in glorious red font: EXCLUSIVE FACULTY DISCOUNT PASS: 80% OFF ALL PREMIUM IMPORTED MEATS, FRESH CABBAGE, AND GRADE-A TOFU.

"This is a limited-edition, high-tier coupon booklet," Glynda said, her voice dropping to a smooth, tempting purr.

"Normally reserved only for senior board members. It grants unlimited access to the premium imported goods section for the next three months. I am prepared to authorize your temporary faculty pass today, if you agree to assist my class." Saitama's hands began to shake. His eyes widened into sharp, detailed circles. Eighty percent... off premium imported meats... His mind screamed, his heart racing faster than it ever had in a fight against a giant monster.

I can get the premium wagyu beef for the price of regular ground pork! And the cabbage! Fresh, crisp cabbage that doesn't have those soggy outer leaves! He snatched the booklet, clutching it to his chest as if it were a sacred relic.

"Of course I'll do it!" Saitama declared, his voice filled with burning, heroic passion. His face brimming with sudden, fiery enthusiasm.

"For the sake of the youth! For the future of Remnant! Education is... a very beautiful thing, Professor Goodwitch!"

"... goddamn it." The hard cut of the reality hit Saitama like a cold bucket of water. The bright, sterile lights of the Beacon combat arena buzzed overhead. The massive glass dome reflected the pale blue sky, and the polished metal floor of the stage was spotless. Saitama stood right in the center of the arena, his arms hanging limp at his sides. His face had completely reverted back to its standard, disappointed, oval-eyed look of utter defeat."'Defensive anchor,' she said.

'No physical exertion,' she said. All those fancy words just to make 'punching bag' sound like a promotion," Saitama muttered, his soul practically leaving his body.

"I got scammed." Around the circular spectator stands, the entire room was packed. Teams RWBY, JNPR, CFVY, CRDL, and dozens of wide-eyed first-year students were leaning over the railings, whispering frantically. The atmosphere was charged with a mixture of awe, confusion, and absolute terror. Glynda Goodwitch stood at the edge of the arena, holding her microphone, her voice echoing clearly through the PA system.

"Wait, Professor Goodwitch!" Weiss Schnee's voice cut through the whispers, loud and sharp as she leaned over the banister, her hand gripping her rapier, Myrtenaster.

"You cannot possibly be serious! You want us to... to attack him? With everything we have? This is the man who split the sky during the Breach! He shattered a mountain-sized Grimm with a single punch!" Glynda turned her calm, unyielding gaze toward the heiress.

"I am entirely serious, Miss Schnee. As I have just explained to the class, Mr. Saitama will be serving as our absolute baseline asset for the remainder of the semester. Traditional combat metrics often breed complacency. You learn to fight opponents with predictable Aura thresholds. Today, that assumption ends. The objective is not to defeat him, as that is a mathematical impossibility based on our current data. Your assignment is simple: Solidify your teamwork against an immovable force.

You may form any combination of teams, utilize any Dust, Semblance, or weapon at your disposal, and strike Mr. Saitama with your strongest attacks."

"And what do we have to do to pass?" Cardin Winchester called out from the side. He crossed his armored arms, leaning forward with a cocky, confident smirk, though his eyes remained entirely serious.

"A single step backward? Sounds simple on paper, Professor, but considering he flattened an entire horde during the Breach, we're going to need a hell of a lot more than basic form to move him. My team is ready to see what it takes." Glynda nodded standardly toward him.

"To pass, you must force Mr. Saitama to take a single, solitary step backward. He has been instructed not to block, not to dodge, and not to strike back. You have until the end of the class period." A collective gasp rippled through the stands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Coco Adel adjusted her sunglasses, leaning against her massive handbag with a forward frown.

"No blocking? No dodging? Is this guy made of titanium or something? I mean, I saw what he did to that giant snake, but letting us just... unload on him? That sounds like a structural hazard to the arena tiles, Professor."

"Yeah!" Velvet Scarlatina chimed in, her long rabbit ears drooping slightly in concern as she clutched her camera.

"What if... what if our kinetic feedback bounces back and causes an accident? I don't want to break my hard-light duplicates on an unsafe target!" Saitama, standing in the center of the ring, let out a long, heavy sigh.

"That won't happen, bunny-ears girl... At least that's what the lady with the crop said."

"We get to fight him?! We actually get to hit the strongest guy in the universe with everything we have and we won't get in trouble?!" Ruby Rose continued, her silver eyes expanding to the size of dinner plates as she gripped Crescent Rose. Her boots literally left the ground as she began bouncing on her toes, her red cloak whipping around her in a flurry of rose petals.

"Oh my gosh, this is the greatest day of my entire life! Yang! Weiss! Blake! We have to try the Bumblebee-v3-Mega-Strike! We have to use the fire-dust-propelled-gravity-giga-slash!" This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Are you entirely out of your mind, Ruby?!" Weiss Schnee shrieked, her hand trembling as she tightly gripped the hilt of Myrtenaster. She stared at Saitama as if he were an unexploded nuclear warhead.

"He doesn't have Aura! He has absolutely zero spiritual energy, yet he shattered a golden elder stinger with his bald head! If we hit him with maximum force, the kinetic rebound alone might shatter our weapons and blow the entire structural foundation of the arena to pieces! It's a physical impossibility!"

"Oh, come on, Weiss-cream!" Yang Xiao Long grinned, cracking her knuckles as her golden hair seemed to flicker with faint embers of anticipation. She leaped over the railing, landing on the arena floor with a loud, metallic thud of her boots.

"I've been itching to see what this guy is made of ever since he stood in front of the courtyard. Hey, cue-ball! If I knock you back a step, do I get to keep that cape?" Saitama's eyes drifted to Yang.

"No. The cape is part of the set. It has sentimental value."

"He doesn't leak any physical cues," Blake Belladonna murmured softly, her amber eyes scanning Saitama's loose, completely unbothered posture. She leaned over the wooden railing, her black bow twitching slightly.

"No shifting weight, no center of gravity adjustments, no aura flares. Fighting him isn't like fighting a person. It's like trying to strike a wall that doesn't acknowledge the concept of force."

"Oh, this is the ultimate test!" Nora Valkyrie screamed, leaping from the top tier of the stands and crashing onto the arena floor, her giant hammer, Magnhild, already spinning in her hands with a wild, manic energy.

"Out of the way! I'm going to hit him so hard he flies all the way back to the outer walls! Saitama! Prepare to feel the power of the thunder Valkyrie! If I knock you back, can we go get pancakes?!"

"Nora, please, let's be careful!" Lie Ren sighed, rubbing his temples as he gracefully stepped down the stairs, his twin pistols ready but his posture cautious.

"We don't know the limits of his absolute durability. Even if he survived the Breach unscathed, we should approach this with a coordinated strategy."

"Ren is right," Pyrrha Nikos said, stepping forward with her shield and spear held in a perfect defensive stance. Her emerald eyes were fixed on Saitama, filled with a deep, respectful curiosity.

"Saitama... your strength is legendary. It is an honor to test our skills against you. We will not hold back." The first-year students in the front rows of the spectator stands visibly recoiled, a wave of nervous whispering breaking out among them.

"You've got to be kidding!" Chloe whispered, her hands shaking as she adjusted the twin dust-daggers at her waist. She looked at the smooth, bald head reflecting the arena's bright stadium lights and swallowed hard.

"Did you guys not see what happened in the forest? He vaporized a five-ton Beringel with a backhand slap. If his skin is dense enough to shatter an elder Death Stalker's stinger, what do you think our training rounds are going to do?" Among all the excited chatter and nervous whispers, Jaune Arc stood at the edge of the stands, his hand gripping the hilt of Crocea Mors. His knuckles were white, and a cold sweat was dripping down his neck.

Ever since the Battle of Beacon, when Saitama had casually revealed his "training regime", the hundred push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and the ten-kilometer run every single day, Jaune had been doing it religiously. Every single morning. No matter how much his legs burned, no matter how much his body screamed for rest, he had pushed through it. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to protect his friends. And now, the man who had paved that path was standing right in front of him.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha looked back, noticing her leader's intense, quiet gaze.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Pyrrha," Jaune said, his voice surprisingly steady as he looked directly at Saitama.

"I just... I want to see how far I've come." Jaune took a deep, trembling breath, his blue eyes hardening with a rare, fierce determination. He stepped onto the arena floor, his boots clicking firmly against the metal.

"Mr. Saitama! Sir!" Jaune called out, his deep voice cutting through the frantic murmurs of the crowd as he stepped toward the arena boundary line, his weight perfectly balanced.

"Your strength... it's what kept Vale standing. It's the reason we're all still here. It is an honor to test our growth against you. We're coming at you with everything we've got!" Saitama blinked, looking at the scrawny teenager with the shield. A faint, small spark of recognition crossed his blank face.

"Oh. It's the banana-hair kid," Saitama said, waving a lazy hand.

"Sure. Come at me with everything you've got. But, again, please stop calling me "Mister" or "Sir". I already had enough hearing them from your teachers."

"U-Understood, Miste--I mean, Saitama! We will do our best!" Jaune answered, readying his stance to face him. The training room's heavy blast doors sealed shut with a pressurized hiss, leaving Saitama standing completely still in the center of the pristine arena floor. His yellow suit was stark under the high-intensity stadium lights, and his white cape rested flat against his back. He stood with his arms hanging loose, his blank, oval-eyed gaze drifting toward the high glass dome of the ceiling.

At the edge of the stage, Glynda Goodwitch raised her riding crop to her chest, her green eyes hyper-focused behind her glasses as she activated her scroll's real-time kinetic diagnostic suite. This was not merely an exercise to push her students to their absolute limits. It was a calculated attempt to measure the precise ceiling, if one even existed, of their security consultant's durability.

"Begin," Glynda commanded. The arena erupted. The first-year students, led by Marcus and Toby, unleashed the first wave. A barrage of dust-rifle fire and elemental dust-lances converged on Saitama in a blinding crisscross of red, blue, and yellow energy. Dozens of training rounds and localized firestorms slammed directly into his chest. Saitama didn't even blink. He didn't shift his feet.

He stood completely still, his face perfectly blank as the high-velocity projectiles simply pancaked against his yellow suit, dropping to the floor as useless, flattened bits of metal.

"My turn!" Cardin Winchester roared, leading Team CRDL in a heavy, synchronized vanguard. He leaped into the air, channeling his Aura into his massive mace, bringing it down with a two-handed overhead swing aimed directly at the top of Saitama's bald head. Simultaneously, Russell, Dove, and Lark lunged from the flanks, their swords and daggers striking at his joints with absolute, lethal intent. CLANG! The sound of Cardin's mace hitting Saitama's head echoed through the rafters like a church bell.

The shockwave of the impact cracked the concrete beneath Cardin's boots, but the mace itself bounced violently upward, nearly ripping itself from Cardin's grip. The blades of Team CRDL slid off Saitama's neck and shoulders as if striking solid, frictionless bedrock. Saitama merely raised a hand to cover his mouth, letting out a long, slow yawn of pure boredom. He didn't move an inch.

"Get out of the way, freshmen!" Coco Adel shouted, stepping up to the boundary line with Team CFVY. With a mechanical whir, her handbag transformed into a colossal, rotary minigun. Beside her, Yatsuhashi Daichi raised his massive greatsword, while Fox Alistair coiled his arm-blades. Velvet Scarlatina raised her hard-shell camera, projecting a solid-light duplicate of Coco's minigun.

"Let's see how he likes the heavy stuff! Shred him!" Coco ordered. A dual tempest of gold-plated, dust-enhanced ammunition tore from the miniguns. Hundreds of rounds per second chewed through the air, completely engulfing Saitama in a relentless, explosive hail of kinetic force. Yatsuhashi charged through the gunfire, executing a devastating, gravity-assisted ground slam that shattered the arena floor surrounding Saitama into a web of deep craters.

Fox followed up with a rapid-fire flurry of explosive elbow strikes directly to Saitama's chest. Inside the raging tempest of bullets and blade-strikes, Saitama just stood there. The heavy caliber rounds didn't even tear his yellow suit. They simply disintegrated into sparks upon contact with his skin. He idly reached up with his left hand, scratching his cheek as if a pesky mosquito was buzzing nearby.

"He... he isn't even trying to dodge!" Chloe screamed from the spectator stands, her voice cracking in disbelief. As the smoke from CFVY's assault began to billow, Team JNPR and Team RWBY launched their synchronized strikes.

"Nora, Ren, flank him! Pyrrha, with me!" Jaune Arc commanded, his blue eyes burning with intense dedication. Nora launched herself high into the air, Magnhild crackling with a massive, pink electrical charge. Ren blurred from the left, his StormFlower pistols firing continuous, Aura-enhanced piercing rounds at Saitama's pressure points before he transitioned into a rapid, spinning crescent kick to Saitama's jaw.

Pyrrha glided in with absolute kinetic perfection, driving Milo in its spear form directly toward Saitama's collarbone, her Polarity semblance subtly warping the air to maximize her velocity. Jaune followed right behind her, bringing Crocea Mors down in a massive, two-handed vertical slash. BOOM! Nora's hammer slammed down onto Saitama's shoulder at the exact moment Pyrrha's spear and Jaune's sword struck his chest and neck.

The concussive blast of electricity and kinetic energy blew the remaining debris outward in a hundred-yard ring. Yet, when the sparks subsided, the tip of Pyrrha's spear was slightly bent. Jaune's blade was vibrating violently, transmitting a painful, numbing shock back up his arms. Saitama was still standing in the exact same spot, his eyes glazed over as he looked like he was mentally calculating his grocery receipt.

"Team RWBY! Go!" Ruby Rose yelled. The four girls moved as a single, devastating machine. Weiss drove Myrtenaster into the floor, constructing an intricate web of black and red gravity glyphs that violently pulled downward, attempting to crush Saitama under tenfold gravity. Blake used Gambol Shroud to anchor herself to the ceiling, swinging Yang forward at terminal velocity. Yang's violet eyes burned a brilliant, furious crimson as her hair flared with yellow fire, unleashing her fully charged Semblance.

"Take this!" Yang roared, delivering a massive, combustion-powered straight punch directly to Saitama's face. The punch connected with a deafening CRACK that shook the entire glass dome of the arena. Ruby, propelled by Weiss's speed glyphs, dissolved into a blinding hurricane of rose petals, bringing the heavy blade of Crescent Rose down in a high-speed, gravity-assisted slice against the back of Saitama's neck. The attacks hit simultaneously.

The sheer force of Yang's fiery explosion and Ruby's scythe impact filled the entire training room with a thick, suffocating cloud of black smoke, dust, and pulverized stone. The silence that followed was heavy. Across the arena, the exhausted first-year students and the members of Team CRDL collapsed to the floor, their weapons slipping from their hands, their lungs gasping for clean air through the smog. As the heavy smoke slowly began to drift, the silhouettes of Team RWBY, JNPR, and CFVY emerged.

They were panting heavily, their Aura reserves flashing red on Glynda's monitoring screens, their bodies trembling from sheer exhaustion. They strained their eyes through the haze, hoping, just hoping, to see some sign of success. The dust cleared. Saitama was standing completely unharmed. His yellow suit was slightly dusty, but otherwise immaculate. He was casually leaning to one side, completely ignoring the exhausted Hunstmen, while lazily sticking a yellow-gloved pinky finger up his nose to pick it.

"No way..." Ruby whispered, her scythe dropping an inch.

"Not even a scratch..."

"He didn't even move..." Weiss gasped, her knees shaking as she leaned on Myrtenaster just to stay upright.

"He's... he's a monster," Cardin muttered from the floor, his pride entirely shattered. Jaune, breathing in ragged gasps, looked at his trembling hands. He had given that strike everything he had. Every single ounce of his ninety-day physical grind had been put into that blade. And it hadn't even made the man blink. Saitama pulled his finger out of his nose, flicking away a speck of dust.

He looked at the panting, sweat-drenched teenagers surrounding him, and for the first time, a tiny, genuine smirk of approval touched his face.

"Well," Saitama said, his voice casual.

"You guys have pretty good coordination. The fire-punch girl has some decent kick to her, and the spear-girl's aim is really precise. Your teamwork is actually pretty cool." Hearing his small compliment, Ruby, Jaune, and Coco shared a tired, bewildered look.

"One more..." Ruby panted, her silver eyes flaring with a final, desperate spark of defiance.

"We can't... we can't give up yet! Combination attack! Everyone who can still stand!"

"Right behind you, sister," Yang wheezed, her crimson eyes fading back to violet as she forced her trembling legs to lock.

"Let's do it," Coco muttered, lifting her heavy minigun with one arm, her sunglasses crooked on her nose. With the last remaining reserves of their Aura, Teams RWBY, JNPR, and CFVY mobilized for one final, desperate charge. Weiss channeled every drop of her remaining Dust into a massive, multi-layered summoning circle, conjuring the giant arm of the Arma Gigas. Blake and Ren crossed their blades, weaving a net of kinetic energy, while Nora and Coco prepared to unleash their remaining explosive payloads.

Pyrrha polarized their weapons, aligning their kinetic trajectories into a single, unified vector. At the center of it all, Ruby and Jaune leaped forward side-by-side, Crescent Rose and Crocea Mors locked together, propelled by Yang's explosive recoil and Weiss's final speed glyph.

"ULTIMATE COMBINATION STRIKE!" Ruby screamed. Every single attack, the massive ice sword of the Gigas, the storm of heavy ammunition, the electrical discharge, the gravity-warping slashes, and the raw, blazing kinetic energy of the vanguard, converged into a single, blinding point of absolute, cataclysmic force directly on Saitama's chest. BOOOOOOOOOOM!!! The resulting explosion was catastrophic. The sheer, unrestrained kinetic feedback didn't just rattle the arena.

The shockwave tore upward, violently shattering the reinforced glass tiles of the training room's ceiling and blowing a massive, jagged hole clean through the eastern structural wall. A towering pillar of white smoke and dust erupted into the sky above Beacon Academy, carrying shattered stone and metal debris high into the afternoon air. The exhausted students who had already fallen to the ground watched in absolute, wide-eyed awe at the sheer, terrifying beauty of the destruction they had unleashed.

For nearly a minute, the only sound was the whistling of the wind rushing through the newly created gap in the wall. Then, the heavy white smoke slowly began to billow out into the open air, clearing the center of the stage. Saitama was standing there. Of course, he was completely, utterly unaffected. His yellow suit was a bit soot-stained, and his white cape was fluttering in the draft coming from the ruined wall, but his physical form remained perfectly untouched.

He was looking up at the newly created skylight, a slightly impressed expression on his face.

"Oh, wow," Saitama said, nodding slowly.

"That was actually pretty strong. You guys managed to make a really nice breeze in here. It's actually kind of refreshing." The final, crushing weight of reality hit the students.

"No way..." Ruby's knees buckled first, and she sank to the floor, her scythe clattering beside her. Weiss, Blake, and Yang collapsed right next to her, their bodies completely devoid of Aura. Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren fell to their knees in a silent, exhausted line, while Coco, Velvet, Yatsuhashi, and Fox slumped against each other in sheer, unadulterated defeat.

They had thrown the absolute peak of their collective Huntsman training at a single, unarmed man, and they hadn't even managed to make him slide back a single millimeter. At the edge of the stage, Glynda Goodwitch calmly adjusted her glasses, her eyes tracking the final, flatlined kinetic graphs on her scroll. She took a slow, deep breath, tapping her riding crop against her palm as she concluded the data results of the training.

"Evaluation concluded," Glynda said, her voice clear and carrying no emotion.

"As expected. The baseline remains entirely absolute. Excellent effort, students. Class dismissed." Before any of the exhausted, groaning students could even muster the strength to crawl toward the locker rooms, a loud, high-pitched, and incredibly furious voice echoed from the newly created hole in the training room's wall.

"MY GREENHOUSE!!!" Professor Peach's voice screamed from the courtyard outside, raw with dramatic tragedy.

"OH, NO! MY IMPORTED ATLAS FIRE-LILIES! WHO'S GOING TO PAY FOR THIS DEVASTATION?!"

"Uh-oh..." Saitama squeaked, his voice cracking as he stared at the ruined masonry. His jaw dropped into a wide, comical caricature of absolute terror, his eyes bugging out as a cold sweat drenched his forehead. Images of Professor Peach holding a clipboard, pointing a furious finger at him, and forcing him into an endless week of pulling weeds and moving heavy soil bags flashed vividly through his mind. His premium coupon booklet couldn't save him from this disaster.