The silence that followed Saitama's less-than-graceful arrival was profound. It wasn't merely the absence of Z-City's perpetual urban hum or the echo of Vorlag's cosmic tantrum; it was a deep, ancient quiet, thick with the scent of damp earth, decaying leaves, and something else… a faint, almost imperceptible thrum of latent energy that tickled the back of his sinuses like dormant static. The air was cool, heavy with moisture, carrying the fragrance of pine needles far more pungent than any air freshener he'd ever bought, and beneath that, a loamy, fungal richness.
He remained sitting in the center of the crater his unscheduled landing had carved, blinking owlishly at the canopy far above. Twisted, unfamiliar constellations glittered between the dense foliage, dominated by the serene, silver-blue glow of two distinct moons hanging in the inky expanse. One was a perfect, luminous orb, casting sharp, clear shadows; the other, slightly smaller and a shade paler, possessed a hazy, almost fractured appearance, like flawed crystal.
"Two moons..." Saitama muttered, scratching his bald head, dislodging a clump of dirt that tumbled down the front of his tattered yellow jumpsuit. "Huh. Never seen that before. Maybe it's like... a reflection? Or maybe one's on sale? Buy one moon, get one fifty percent off?" He squinted, as if trying to read cosmic fine print.
His stomach chose that moment to issue another, more insistent rumble. It echoed strangely in the sylvan amphitheater of the forest, a stark, biological noise against the backdrop of alien tranquility.
"Right. Priorities." He pushed himself to his feet, his worn red boots crunching on loose soil and shattered roots. He scanned the crater. It was depressingly empty. "Aw, man. Seriously? Not even the cabbages survived? That fall wasn't that bad." He peered into the depths of the woods surrounding the impact site. Towering trees, thicker and stranger than any he recognized, rose like ancient sentinels, their bark rough and gnarled, draped in phosphorescent mosses that pulsed with a soft, ethereal light, supplementing the twin moons' glow. Giant ferns, taller than he was, unfurled intricate fronds nearby. The sheer scale of the flora was mildly impressive, he supposed, but it did nothing to alleviate the growing emptiness in his stomach or the tragic loss of his meticulously planned hot pot ingredients.
"King crab legs... spicy seaweed snacks... limited edition chikuwa..." he lamented, ticking them off on his fingers, his voice tinged with genuine mourning. "That Herald guy, Vorlag? He owes me dinner. And probably damages for emotional distress." He kicked a loose rock, sending it skittering across the crater floor. "Stupid villains. Always messing up shopping day."
He stretched, his joints popping softly. The tattered remnants of his hero suit felt stiff with dried mud and whatever otherworldly energy had coated him during his trans-dimensional tumble. He needed a bath. And food. Definitely food. Preferably something cheap, filling, and requiring minimal effort to acquire.
"Okay, direction," he mused, turning in a slow circle. "Usually, civilization means lights, noise, maybe a giant billboard advertising discount electronics." He looked around. All he saw were trees, shadows, glowing moss, and more trees. No distant city glow, no rumble of traffic, not even the annoying chirp of a faulty neon sign. Just… silence. And trees. And those weird, silent, glowing moss patches. Were they edible? Probably not. Everything weirdly glowy was usually poisonous or radioactive. Or both. He'd learned that the hard way back in Y-City with that glowing sewer rat incident. Best not to risk it.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. "HELLOOOO? ANYBODY GOT A SUPERMARKET NEARBY? OR MAYBE A CONVENIENCE STORE? I'VE GOT CASH!" His voice boomed through the forest, startling a flock of small, bat-winged creatures from the high branches. They flitted away on silent membranes, their multiple red eyes blinking in the dim light before vanishing into the darkness.
Silence answered him. Deeper, somehow, than before.
"Right. Didn't think so." Saitama sighed. "Guess I'll just... walk." He picked a direction mostly at random – the one that seemed to have slightly less dense undergrowth – and started trudging out of the crater, his boots sinking slightly into the soft forest floor. The air grew cooler as he moved under the dense canopy, the twin moonlight filtering down in dappled patterns. Strange insects buzzed past, some leaving trails of faint bioluminescence. The sounds were alien – clicks, whistles, and low guttural calls that hinted at unseen life moving through the shadowed woods. It was all very… atmospheric. And completely unhelpful for finding a 24-hour noodle stand.
As he navigated around a particularly large tree root, thicker than his waist, a low growl rumbled from the bushes ahead. It wasn't the sound of a stray dog or even a particularly angry bear. This growl had a wet, guttural quality, filled with primal hunger and malice.
Saitama stopped. "Hm?"
From the dense thicket emerged a creature that looked like a wolf sculpted from nightmare fuel. It stood taller than a man at the shoulder, its fur a matted, greasy black, its eyes burning with malevolent crimson light – not unlike Vorlag's, but cruder, hungrier. Saliva dripped from jaws filled with serrated teeth the length of daggers. Its claws, thick and hooked, dug into the earth, leaving deep gouges. A palpable aura of bloodlust radiated from it, a predatory pressure designed to paralyze prey with sheer terror. In the local vernacular, this was a Shadowfang Direwolf, a notoriously vicious magical beast capable of tearing through armored knights.
The Direwolf fixed its burning gaze on Saitama, its lip curling back in a snarl that exposed more horrific dentition. It saw not a threat, but an easy meal. A soft, strangely dressed morsel that had wandered into its territory.
Saitama looked back at it, his expression unchanged. "Oh, hey there, fella. You lost too? Haven't seen any supermarkets around here, have you?"
The Direwolf, interpreting this calm utterance as baffling stupidity rather than incomprehensible power, bunched its powerful hind legs, preparing to lunge and rip the bald creature limb from limb.
Saitama noticed its focused stare. "What? Is there something on my face?" He rubbed his cheek, checking for dirt.
ROOOOAAAARRRR!
The Direwolf exploded forward, a blur of black fur and snapping teeth, aiming straight for Saitama's throat. The speed was incredible, faster than any natural predator, enhanced by the dark magic simmering within its beastial form.
Saitama, still mildly distracted by the possibility of facial dirt, instinctively raised his left hand to shield his face, more out of reflex than genuine concern.
Thwack.
It wasn't the sound of tearing flesh or shattering bone. It was the sound of something large and fast hitting something impossibly solid, like a speeding truck colliding with a mountain that didn't even notice.
The Direwolf's snout connected with Saitama's casually raised palm. For a split second, the creature's immense forward momentum met absolute, unyielding resistance. Its crimson eyes widened in shocked disbelief, its snarl frozen on its muzzle. Then, the kinetic energy had nowhere to go but back into its own form.
With a wet, crunching sound, the Direwolf's entire skeletal structure seemed to collapse inward. Its charge reversed instantaneously, sending it tumbling backward through the air like a discarded rag doll. It crashed through several thick bushes, snapped a young tree clean in half with the force of its unplanned impact, and landed in a crumpled heap fifty feet away, utterly still. No twitching, no whimpering. Just… inert.
Saitama lowered his hand, looking at his palm. He blew gently on the spot where the wolf had hit. "Geez, aggressive. And your breath stinks, buddy. Ever heard of dental hygiene?" He looked over at the unmoving heap of fur. "Guess he didn't see a supermarket either. Bummer."
He shrugged and continued walking, stepping nonchalantly over the massive root the Direwolf had emerged from, his mind already returning to the far more pressing issue of his lost dinner. The forest seemed even quieter now, as if holding its breath. Whatever unseen things had been rustling nearby had fallen utterly silent, perhaps sensing the casual, almost accidental annihilation that had just occurred.
Back in the Royal Capital of Midgar, the tension in the shadowed chamber hadn't lessened with Shadow's pronouncements; it had solidified, becoming a palpable weight in the air. The remaining candles flickered nervously, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to writhe in deference to the hooded figure standing before the princesses.
Iris Midgar kept her sword leveled, her knuckles white. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm against the oppressive calm Shadow exuded. This man, this entity, who appeared and vanished like smoke, who possessed knowledge he shouldn't have and power that defied explanation… he was connected to the darkness plaguing their kingdom, she was sure of it. Whether as an enemy, a manipulator, or something else entirely, she couldn't fathom, but his presence felt like a razor's edge pressed against the throat of reality.
"Threads from elsewhere?" she repeated, her voice sharp, trying to cut through the mystique. "Potent threads? Are you saying this… arrival… is responsible for the disappearances? For the energy fluctuations?"
Shadow tilted his head, the movement slow, deliberate. The darkness beneath his hood seemed to deepen, infinite. "Responsibility is a complex tapestry, Princess Iris. Causes and effects intertwine in ways few can perceive. This newcomer… let us call him the 'Unknowing Tempest' for now… is less a cause and more an accelerant. A catalyst dropped into an already volatile mixture."
Alexia, her crimson eyes narrowed in intense calculation, spoke, her tone measured despite the circumstances. "You imply the underlying volatility was already present. The Order?"
Shadow's chuckle was softer this time, almost thoughtful. "The Order of Diablos seeks to resurrect a long-dead demon, to rewrite history with blood and shadows. Their ambitions are… significant. But even they are but players on a larger stage, Princess Alexia. There are forces stirring, ancient and profound, that dwarf their petty machinations. Forces drawn, perhaps, by the very energies the Order meddles with."
He took another step closer, the shadows seeming to flow around his boots, silencing his footfalls completely. He stopped just outside the reach of their swords. The cold emanating from him intensified slightly.
"Imagine," he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, yet carrying perfectly in the large room, "a pond, still and undisturbed for centuries. The Order tosses in pebbles, creating ripples. Annoying, perhaps dangerous to the pond's smaller inhabitants. But then, from beyond the sky, a meteor crashes into the center. The resulting wave changes everything. The pond is no longer the same."
"And this 'meteor'… this Tempest… where is he now?" Iris demanded, refusing to be drawn into his metaphors.
Shadow gestured vaguely towards the window, towards the unseen expanse beyond the castle walls. "He walks the ancient woods, seeking… sustenance, I believe. His power is… remarkable. Raw. Unrefined. Utterly overwhelming. Like a sledgehammer in a world accustomed to rapiers." A faint hint of something – amusement? Academic curiosity? – touched his voice. "He is unaware of the world he has stumbled into, unaware of the forces observing him, unaware, even, of the true nature of his own strength, perhaps."
"You seem remarkably well-informed," Alexia observed, her gaze piercing. "How? What is your stake in this?"
"My stake?" Shadow seemed to ponder the question. "Let us say I have an appreciation for… intricate narratives. For the dance of light and shadow, power and ignorance. I cultivate the darkness, prune the aberrant branches, and occasionally… nudge the plot in a more interesting direction." He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "The arrival of this Tempest provides… unprecedented narrative potential."
Iris gritted her teeth. His cryptic pronouncements, his detachment, his sheer arrogance… it was infuriating. "Enough games, Shadow! If you know something that can help us protect the kingdom, speak plainly!"
"Plain speech is often the most misleading, Princess," Shadow countered smoothly. "But very well. A piece of advice, freely given." His unseen eyes seemed to focus on them, pinning them in place. "Do not seek out the Unknowing Tempest directly. Observe, if you must, from a distance. His path will inevitably intersect with the currents already in motion. When it does… the results will be… illuminating."
He then added, almost as an afterthought, "And tell your Royal Sorcerers to pay closer attention to the resonance patterns emanating from the Valgothian Deepwood, several leagues northwest of here. They might find the 'atmospheric disturbances' have become rather more… localized. And significantly more energetic."
With that, he took a step back, melting into the deepest shadows pooling in the corner of the room. It wasn't a sudden disappearance; it was a gradual fading, as if the darkness was simply reclaiming its own substance. One moment he was there, a figure of profound mystery and power, the next, only the cold draft and the flickering candlelight remained, along with the echo of his final words.
The chamber felt suddenly vast and empty, yet the weight of his presence lingered. Iris finally lowered her sword, her breath catching in her throat. Alexia remained still, her mind racing, processing Shadow's words, particularly the location he'd mentioned – the Valgothian Deepwood. That was perilously close to the last known position of Lord Istvan's retinue, another noble house that had fallen silent.
"Valgothian Deepwood..." Alexia murmured, moving towards the map spread on the table. "Northwest..."
Iris joined her, sheathinging her blade with a click that sounded unnaturally loud. "An accelerant? A meteor? What does he mean? And this 'Tempest'… a single being?"
"One whose power is 'utterly overwhelming,' according to him," Alexia replied, tapping the indicated region on the map. "And Shadow… he seemed almost amused by it all. Like a spectator watching a play he wrote." She shivered, despite herself. "He gave us a location. A potential lead on the disappearances, linked to this new arrival."
"Or a trap," Iris countered, suspicion etched onto her features. "A way to lure Royal Knights into whatever danger resides there now. We cannot trust him, Alexia."
"We don't have to trust him to investigate his claim cautiously," Alexia argued. "The energy signatures, the disappearances, Shadow's cryptic warning, and now a specific location... it's too coincidental to ignore. We need information, Iris. Father is growing impatient, and the court whispers are becoming louder."
Iris looked at her younger sister, seeing the determination in her eyes. Alexia was right. Doing nothing was no longer an option. But the thought of willingly walking towards something Shadow had pointed them to, something potentially involving a being described as an 'Unknowing Tempest,' sent a fresh wave of chills down her spine.
Outside the palace walls, deep within the newly named Valgothian Deepwood, Saitama yawned. He'd been walking for what felt like an hour, and still no sign of civilization. Just more trees, more glowing moss, and the unsettling feeling that he was being watched by things he couldn't see. His stomach rumbled again, louder this time, a desperate plea for sustenance.
"Man, I'm starving," he mumbled to himself. "At this rate, I might actually have to, like... hunt something. Ugh. Effort." He spotted a cluster of large, purplish mushrooms growing at the base of a gnarled tree. They looked vaguely plump and juicy. "Are mushrooms edible raw? Maybe if I cook 'em? But I need fire... and a pan... This is way more complicated than just going to the supermarket."
He sighed again, the sound lost in the vast, silent, and increasingly dangerous forest. The Unknowing Tempest was hungry, confused, and profoundly unimpressed with the local flora and fauna. And somewhere, in the shadows, other forces were beginning to take notice.