Chương 63: Chapter 60: The Silent Shadow and the Wandering Anomaly

The air in Higanbana Village was thick with the scent of damp earth and the metallic tang of impending rain. The crimson leaves of the surrounding trees drifted lazily to the ground, blanketing the quiet, isolated settlement in a permanent state of autumn. Sitting alone in the corner of a dimly lit, largely abandoned tavern, Neopolitan traced the rim of a lukewarm teacup with her gloved finger.

Her heterochromia eyes, one pale pink, the other a deep, striking brown, stared blankly into the rippling surface of the liquid. She wasn't seeing the tea. She was seeing the sky over Vale, choked with storm clouds and ash. She was seeing the massive, horrifying jaws of a Griffon snapping shut. Roman. Neo's hand lifted, her fingers brushing the brim of the bowler hat resting perfectly atop her dual-colored hair. It had been nearly five months since the Battle of Beacon.

Five agonizing, hollow months of surviving in a world that had abruptly shifted from a playground of thieves into a slaughterhouse of gods and monsters. She remembered the feeling of the Atlas bullhead's cold metal floor beneath her boots as it flew away on autopilot. She remembered looking out the shattered cargo door, her heart consumed by a void so cold it physically hurt to breathe. And then, she remembered the flash of yellow. A man had fallen from the heavens.

He wore a ridiculously bright yellow suit, red gloves, and a white cape. She had watched, paralyzed by an awe that eclipsed her grief, as that man effortlessly obliterated the ancient Wyvern with a single punch. She had watched the concussive shockwave of his fist part the storm clouds, instantly vaporizing the flock of Nevermores and Griffons, the very same beasts that had taken Roman from her, into a harmless rain of black ash. Since that day, Neo's perspective on the world had fundamentally shifted.

Survival was paramount, but survival alone was an empty existence. She needed a purpose. She needed a target. Ruby Rose. The girl who was with Roman when he died. Cinder Fall. The woman who had dragged them out of the comfortable shadows of Vale's underworld and forced them into a suicidal, apocalyptic war. Neo's eyes narrowed into sharp, lethal slits. If she wanted to find Cinder, she needed eyes and ears that spanned continents. She needed to venture into the deep, corrupt heart of Anima.

She needed the Spider syndicate. Specifically, she needed Lil' Miss Malachite. It was a massive risk. She and Roman had a notoriously bad history with Malachite, a history paved with stolen Lien, broken trust, and burned bridges. Walking into the Spider's web in Lower Mistral was practically a death sentence, but Neo had nothing left to lose. She stood up, dropping a few Lien coins onto the wooden table.

Securing her pink-and-white parasol, she stepped out into the crimson-leafed wilderness, her course set for the darkest depths of the Mistralian underworld.

The ruins of Kuroyuri village. The quickest route to Lower Mistral lay through the valley of Kuroyuri, a place wiped off the map years ago by a massacre, courtesy of the Creatures of Grimm. Crouched silently atop the rotting, collapsed roof of what used to be a town hall, Neo surveyed the ruins. The air here was foul, stagnant with the stench of decay. Below her, prowling through the overgrown streets and shattered timber, was a massive horde of apex Grimm.

Several Goliaths lumbered in the distance, while packs of Alpha Beowolves and spine-covered Creeps sniffed the cobblestones, drawn to the lingering, ancient misery of the dead village. Neo's grip tightened on the handle of her parasol. Too many. She thought. Her mind rapidly calculating the tactical odds. Her illusions were perfect for evasion, but navigating a literal nest of apex predators was a gamble she wasn't eager to take. I'll have to find another path around the mountains.

It will cost me three days, but-- BOOM. The sound was like a thunderclap detonating directly inside the valley. The rotting roof beneath Neo's boots violently shuddered. She dropped to a lower crouch, her eyes snapping toward the southern entrance of the ruins. A massive, fifty-foot Goliath trumpeted in agony. Or rather, it tried to. The sound was cut short as its colossal, armored head simply ceased to exist, exploding outward in a massive shockwave of black mist and pulverized bone plating.

The sheer kinetic force of the impact ripped a trench through the center of the ruined village, uprooting dead trees and scattering a dozen Beowolves like broken toys. Walking casually through the settling dust, completely unbothered by the apocalyptic devastation he had just caused, was a man in a bright yellow suit.

"Seriously, these black weird animals are everywhere." Saitama complained, his voice a flat, nasal drone that echoed clearly through the silent ruins. He aggressively wiped his red boot against a patch of green grass, completely ignoring the evaporating remains of the ancient Goliath behind him.

"My boots are getting completely covered in ash. Do they even have paved roads in this kingdom?!" On the rooftop, Neo's breath caught in her throat. Her heterochromia eyes widened to their absolute limits. It's him. The god from the CCT Tower. The invincible anomaly of Vale. What in the world was he doing in Anima?! An Alpha Beowulf, blinded by rage, lunged from the shadows of a ruined bakery directly at Saitama's blind spot. Saitama didn't even turn his head.

He merely swatted his hand backward as if shooing away a mildly irritating horsefly. The backhand connected with the Grimm's ribcage, instantly vaporizing the beast and the entire bakery behind it in a localized hurricane of displaced air.

"And it smells terrible out here," Saitama grumbled, pinching his nose as he trudged down the center of the broken street.

"It's like someone left a wet dog in a microwave." Neo swallowed hard. Her mind, sharp and fiercely opportunistic, began to race. She was about to walk into the headquarters of the most dangerous crime syndicate in Mistral, a place where she was actively despised. She needed leverage. She needed a shield. She looked down at the bald man complaining about his dirty boots. He was a walking weapon of mass destruction.

If she could somehow manipulate him, guide him, or simply stand close enough to him to make Lil' Miss Malachite think they were associated, the Spiders wouldn't dare lay a finger on her. A cold, calculating smirk touched Neo's lips. She opened her parasol, her form shimmering for a microsecond before completely blending into the ambient colors of the ruins. She dropped from the roof silently, falling into step a safe distance behind the ultimate deterrent.

For the entirety of the day, Neopolitan shadowed Saitama along the winding, mountainous dirt paths leading toward Lower Mistral. She maintained absolute stealth, leaping between high branches and utilizing her Overactive Imagination Semblance to blend perfectly into the rocky terrain whenever the bald hero stopped. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. She expected a grueling, highly disciplined march.

She expected to study the tactical mindset of a warrior who had transcended mortal limits. What she got instead was an agonizing masterclass in profound stupidity. Around noon, Saitama wandered into a small, dusty trading settlement perched on a mountain ridge. Neo watched from the roof of a nearby supply shed as Saitama approached a local fruit and vegetable stall.

With a look of supreme, dramatic seriousness, Saitama reached into his pocket and proudly slapped a crumpled piece of paper onto the merchant's counter. Through the scope of her parasol's hidden optics, Neo zoomed in on the paper. It was a crude, crayon drawing of a banana.

"Excuse me," Saitama said flatly.

"I'd like to redeem this discount. The monkey kid said three Lien for a whole bunch." The merchant stared at the crayon drawing, then at Saitama.

"Get lost, weirdo." Saitama's face collapsed into a caricature of utter, soul-crushing devastation. He gripped his bald head with both red-gloved hands, groaning so loudly it startled a nearby flock of birds.

"Why?!" Saitama wailed to the heavens.

"I crossed an ocean for this! I wish I didn't leave my scroll at Beacon!" On the roof, Neo's left eyebrow twitched violently. Is he... is he actually serious?

Two hours later, the journey grew even more absurd. While walking through a narrow gorge, a group of traveling merchants was suddenly ambushed by a dozen heavily armed, masked highwaymen. The bandits leaped from the cliffs, brandishing swords and rifles, demanding the merchants hand over their Lien. Saitama, walking completely oblivious to the tense hostage situation, was staring intently at a piece of lint on his glove.

"Alright, nobody move!" the bandit leader roared, cocking his rifle. Saitama took a step. His boot caught the edge of a massive, half-buried boulder.

"Whoops," Saitama mumbled, his arms flailing slightly as he stumbled forward to catch his balance. His descending red boot slammed into the dirt. KRA-KOOM! The accidental stomp triggered a localized seismic event. A massive fissure ripped through the gorge, creating a shockwave of displaced earth that violently uprooted trees.

"AAAA...!!!" all twelve bandits got launched horizontally through the air like discarded bowling pins. They crashed into the canyon walls, instantly incapacitated. The terrified merchants slowly opened their eyes, staring in absolute reverence at the man who had just saved their lives in the blink of an eye. They dropped to their knees, weeping tears of gratitude.

"Oh, brave Huntsman! Thank you! You are a savior sent by the Gods!" the lead merchant cried. Saitama, however, was hopping on one foot, aggressively rubbing the toe of his red boot with a look of intense annoyance.

"Ow, ow, ow. Stupid rock. Now there's a scuff mark on my rubber. This is the worst day ever." From her hiding spot, Neo pinched the bridge of her nose. He didn't even notice them.

The sheer comedy of his existence only escalated as the afternoon wore on. As the mountain path wound alongside a wide, rushing river, Saitama's stomach let out a thunderous, echoing growl that Neo could hear from fifty yards away.

"Man, I'm starving," Saitama complained, slouching over the riverbank. He squinted into the rushing water, spotting a school of silver fish darting through the rapids.

"I wonder if I can just grab one. I don't have a fishing pole, but how hard can it be?" He crouched down, reaching a red-gloved hand toward the water. Suddenly, the river erupted. A colossal, serpentine aquatic Grimm, a terrifying beast covered in jagged bone scales with jaws wide enough to swallow a Bullhead, burst from the depths, lunging directly at Saitama with a deafening screech. Saitama didn't flinch. His brow merely furrowed in pure annoyance.

"You're scaring the normal fish away," he scolded flatly. He raised his hand and delivered a standard, vertical karate chop toward the river. SHRAAAACK! The air pressure from the chop hit the water like a falling meteor. The river literally parted, a massive, mile-long trench of dry riverbed exposed as the sheer kinetic force cleaved the water in twain. The aquatic Grimm was caught in the shockwave, instantly evaporating into a fine mist. But the friction from the supersonic chop superheated the air.

As the displaced water rained back down, several ordinary silver fish fell from the sky, landing with soft plops onto the riverbank. They were perfectly, immaculately roasted from the sheer atmospheric heat of his strike. Saitama blinked, picking up a steaming, perfectly cooked fish.

"Oh, neat. Saves me the trouble of building a fire." He sat down cross-legged in the dirt and began to eat, completely unfazed by the fact that he had just performed a biblical miracle to get a snack. Neo hung upside down from a tree branch above, her jaw slack. She had to physically cover her mouth with both hands to stifle a sudden, desperate snort of laughter. He's an idiot. Neo realized, a genuine, highly amused smile breaking across her face. He is a complete, unadulterated idiot.

By the time they reached a heavily fortified toll bridge operated by a rogue mercenary gang later that evening, Neo had accepted the reality of her target. The mercenaries had erected a massive, reinforced steel barricade across the bridge, demanding exorbitant fees from travelers. Saitama, who was deeply engrossed in reading a discarded, expired supermarket flyer he had found on the road, didn't even look up. He just kept walking. He walked directly through the three-foot-thick solid steel barricade.

The metal simply yielded to his body, buckling and peeling backward like wet tissue paper, leaving a perfect, Saitama-shaped hole in the center of the impenetrable gate. The mercenaries stared at the perfectly carved hole, dropped their weapons, and fainted on the spot.

"Damn it," Saitama groaned, tossing the paper away.

"This flyer expired three years ago. Why do people litter?" The terror Neo had felt on the CCT tower had completely melted away, replaced by a baffling sense of comedic endearment. He possessed the power to shatter the planet, yet his entire emotional spectrum revolved around minor inconveniences and grocery sales. It was pathetic. It was hilarious. And it was somehow incredibly cute. By the time they reached the outskirts of Lower Mistral, Neo's plan was entirely cemented. He was the perfect, clueless meat-shield.

She just needed to reel him in.

The neon-drenched, shadowy terraces of Lower Mistral were a hive of criminal activity. Neo trailed Saitama flawlessly as he stopped at a shady street vendor, purchasing a completely atrocious, spiky brown wig. He shoved it onto his head, seemingly attempting to disguise himself from whatever invisible authorities he believed were chasing him.

She watched from a nearby rooftop as he struck up a bizarre, surprisingly deep conversation with a towering, muscular man regarding the tragedy of the Huntsman academy system and the price of plums. Neo recognized the giant instantly. Hazel Rainart. One of Salem's inner circle. Even the big players don't realize who they're talking to. Neo smirked, twirling her parasol.

As Hazel departed, Saitama wandered off into a dark, completely isolated alleyway, humming a tuneless melody while munching on a plum Hazel had bought him. It was the perfect time for a test. Neo dropped silently into the shadows at the entrance of the alley. She closed her eyes, channeling her Aura into her Semblance. Overactive Imagination flared to life, weaving a flawless, physical illusion out of the ambient light and shadow. If he was so terrified of the authorities, she would give him exactly what he feared.

Suddenly, twelve Atlesian soldiers clad in pristine white-and-grey tactical combat armor materialized at both ends of the alleyway, completely boxing Saitama in.

"Halt! You are completely surrounded!" the lead illusion barked, the synthesized voice perfectly replicating military aggression.

"Put your hands in the air and come with us peacefully! Any resistance will be met with lethal force!" Saitama stopped chewing his plum. He looked at the soldiers blocking his path, then slowly turned his head to look at the ones behind him. His face remained a flat, bored oval. He squinted. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he looked closer at the soldiers. He didn't sense any hostility. In fact, he didn't sense anything at all. No breathing, no heartbeat, no displacement of air.

They felt as hollow as empty cardboard boxes.

"You guys are fake, right?" Saitama asked casually. The illusionary soldiers didn't answer. They raised their rifles and opened fire simultaneously, a deafening hail of simulated gunfire erupting in the narrow space. Saitama didn't dodge. He simply shifted his weight and took a single step forward. CRASH! The sheer velocity of his movement shattered the physical illusion instantly. The Atlesian soldiers didn't just fade.

They exploded like panes of stained glass, the air filling with the sharp, tinkling sound of breaking mirrors as the magic collapsed into a thousand glittering shards. Saitama continued his single step, blurring through the empty space directly toward the darkest shadow of the alley wall. His hand shot out. Neo gasped as a red glove clamped firmly around the lapel of her tailored tailcoat.

"Gotcha," Saitama said flatly. With a casual, effortless tug, he pulled the master of stealth out of thin air and lightly tossed her forward. Neo flipped mid-air, her Huntsman reflexes kicking in automatically, and landed in a graceful, perfect crouch on the cobblestones a few feet away. Saitama took another bite of his plum, chewing thoughtfully as he looked at her.

"I knew someone was following me. You've been trailing me ever since I passed through that destroyed, creepy village with the big flower symbol on the ground in the center of town." Neo stood up slowly, meticulously dusting off her white, pink, and brown coat. She adjusted the bowler hat resting atop her dual-colored hair, ensuring the brim was perfectly angled. Her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs. He had bypassed her illusions as if they didn't even exist.

He had sensed her presence despite her absolute mastery of stealth. Calm down. Neo commanded herself. Don't show fear. Smile. She tilted her head, her pale pink and deep brown eyes locking onto his dotted ones. She didn't draw her blade. She didn't take a defensive stance. Instead, she rested her pink-and-white parasol over her shoulder and offered him a chilling, razor-sharp, incredibly elegant smirk. Saitama blinked, staring at the silent, smirking girl. He didn't look threatened.

He just looked mildly exasperated.

"Uh... are you gonna say something, or are we just doing a staring contest?" Saitama asked, swallowing the last bite of his plum and tossing the pit over his shoulder. Neo merely continued to smile, her heterochromia eyes sparkling with silent, calculating intent. Saitama let out a long, heavy sigh, slouching his shoulders as he reached up to scratch his itchy brown wig.

"Look, lady. If you went through all the trouble of making fake soldiers just to corner me and rob me, you're entirely out of luck," Saitama grumbled, patting his empty pockets to emphasize his point.

"I am completely broke. I don't even have enough Lien to buy a cup of instant noodles. So unless you want a coupon for a grocery store on a different continent, you're wasting your time." Neo's smirk widened. The invincible god was standing right in front of her, complaining about his empty wallet, entirely oblivious to the criminal underworld, the shadow war, or the absolute chaos he had brought to Remnant. He was the perfect, clueless meat-shield. And Neopolitan was going to use him to burn it all down.