what kind of attitude was this?
23: Chapter 23 And…
what kind of attitude was this?
And…
what kind of attitude was this?
“You…
who are you?!” Fukago screamed, his finger trembling as he pointed at Saitama.
“You lowly insect!
How dare you stand on the shoulder of the strongest being!
It’s a total desecration of a god!” Saitama looked at him indifferently, his gaze becoming even more vacant.
“Huh?
Strongest?
You’re not even wearing pants and you dare call yourself the strongest?” “I’m a hero for fun.
My name is Saitama.” “There was supposed to be a supermarket sale today, and I was planning to go grab those half-price leeks, but this big guy blocked my way.
I’m a bit annoyed.” Hearing such a ridiculous reason, Fukago almost had a brain hemorrhage from anger.
A sale?
Leeks?
Is this guy’s brain broken?!
Facing a terrifying existence that could destroy the world, he was actually worried about some damn leeks?
“Kill him!
Brother!
Kill him now!” Fukago stomped his feet frantically, shouting into Marguerite’s large ear.
“Swat him like a fly!
Squash him flat!” Marguerite had clearly heard the provocation from this bald insect as well.
His massive eyes, like searchlights, turned over, staring fixedly at Saitama standing on his left shoulder.
His gaze was filled with tyranny and disdain.
“I hate flies the most too.” Marguerite’s voice was deep and thick, carrying a heavy echo.
He slowly raised his right hand.
That palm, when spread out, was larger than a football field.
It covered the sky and blocked the sun, casting a massive shadow.
“Die.” There were no fancy Moves.
Just a simple slap downward.
But this seemingly simple strike carried world-destroying power.
The air was rapidly compressed, creating sonic booms; the wind from the palm alone was enough to blow a tank away.
Hiding in the forest of hair at the back of the head, Sage shook his head as he watched this familiar scene, silently lighting a candle for the older brother.
The famous, absurdly tragic blunder from the original story was finally about to happen.
This is what they call ‘asking for it.’ “Wait…
Brother!
Don’t slap this side!!!” Fukago suddenly realized something was wrong.
The area covered by that massive palm was too large; it didn’t distinguish between friend and foe.
He was standing on the shoulder opposite the bald guy, and at this angle…
He was also within the attack range!
“I’m over here!
I’m on the right shoulder!
Are you going to slap me to death too?!
Stop!
Stop it now!!” Fukago screamed at the top of his lungs, waving his hands in an attempt to get his brother to stop.
But in this adrenaline-fueled, slaughter-obsessed berserk state, Marguerite’s brain was clearly stuffed with muscle.
His reaction was more than a beat too slow.
He heard his brother’s voice, but the momentum of his palm could no longer be restrained.
“Slap—!!!” An incredibly crisp yet massive sound echoed over City D.
It was as if someone had slammed two giant iron plates together with all their might.
In that instant.
Blood splattered.
It wasn’t Saitama’s blood.
It was the unfortunate brother, Fukago.
He was like a water-filled tomato; under that massive palm, he had no resistance and was turned directly into a smear of red paste.
He didn’t even have time to let out a scream.
The entire man was…
gone.
Marguerite’s palm slowly moved away.
A jarring bloodstain remained on his shoulder, along with a few fragments of a white lab coat drifting slowly in the high-altitude wind.
Meanwhile, the target who should have been slapped to death—Saitama.
He had used his incredible jumping power to leap to the other side, standing in the air unharmed.
He scratched his cheek awkwardly as he looked at the bloodstain on the shoulder.
“Uh…
that…” “It looks like you slapped your brother to death.” Marguerite froze.
He stared blankly at his palm, stained with his kin’s blood, and then at the empty shoulder.
Time seemed to stand still at this moment.
Only the whistling wind echoed in his ears.
Emotions called despair and sorrow spread through his heart like poison, then instantly transformed into a towering rage.
It was a relentless fury.
“Brother…?” Marguerite’s voice trembled.
Then came a roar that shook the heavens and earth.
“Aaaaaah—!!!” “Brother!!!” He whipped his head around, his eyes instantly bloodshot as if two fires of Hell were burning within them, locking onto the culprit who had caused him to accidentally kill his closest relative—the bald guy.
“Unforgivable…” “Absolutely unforgivable!” “You caused my brother’s death!
I’m going to smash you into meat paste!
I’m going to grind you into powder!!” Marguerite went mad.
His massive fists clenched tight, his muscles bulging as if they were about to explode.
That Aura was a hundred times more terrifying than when he simply wanted to destroy the city.
The true berserk state.
Had begun.
And right at that moment.
“Ding!
Congratulations to the Host!
Sign-in successful at the center of the ‘Giant’s Rage’ event!” The pleasant System notification sounded in Sage’s mind.
With a flash, he turned into a golden light, landing gracefully in the storm atop a building that hadn’t yet collapsed, far away from the center of the battlefield that was about to become a meat grinder.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”