The discovery of Old Man Hemlock's Shadowfire Demon-Pepper Relish recipe had injected a new, if somewhat alarming, level of enthusiasm into Saitama. He now had a tangible goal, a culinary holy grail to pursue alongside the more mundane (in his view) task of dealing with ancient vampire lords and their armies of darkness. Shadow Garden, meanwhile, was left to grapple with the ongoing existential crisis of their leader, who was increasingly convinced that the universe was a cosmic prank show with him as the unwitting star.
With the recipe secured (Beta had made several meticulous copies, and Genos had already begun cross-referencing the ingredients with his interdimensional botanical database, muttering about "potential bio-energetic reactions" and "optimal capsaicinoid extraction methods"), the next logical step was the assault on Castle Maleficus.
Shadow, however, knew that a direct, relish-fueled charge led by Saitama was likely to result in the premature and anticlimactic destruction of their target, along with a significant portion of the Dragon's Tooth Peaks. He needed a plan. A subtle plan. A plan that, for once, might actually unfold as intended without being derailed by a bored demigod.
"Count Valerius will be expecting a frontal assault," Shadow declared, addressing his (increasingly bewildered but still loyal) Shades in the relative quiet of Hemlock's (now slightly less cluttered) cottage. "His arrogance is his weakness. We will exploit it. Alpha, Epsilon, you will conduct a covert reconnaissance of the castle's lower defenses. Identify patrol routes, weak points, the location of these 'Sanguine Knights.' I, along with Beta and Seraphina, will attempt a more… elevated infiltration, seeking Valerius himself."
He deliberately avoided assigning Saitama and Genos a specific role in the initial infiltration. They can be… the strategic reserve, Cid thought. The very, VERY strategic reserve. Kept far, far away from anything delicate or historically significant until absolutely, unavoidably necessary. Or until Saitama gets a craving for a mid-battle snack that can only be found in the Count's private pantry.
Saitama, who had been trying to teach Sir Reginald Fuzzybottom to play fetch with a Demon-Pepper (Sir Reginald was wisely refusing), looked up. "So, we just hang out here and guard the recipe? Sounds kinda boring. Can Genos at least try to build a portable relish-making machine?"
"Your presence here, Saitama-dono," Shadow said, his voice smooth as oiled obsidian, "will serve as a vital… anchor. Should Valerius unleash his full power, your… stabilizing influence… will be crucial in preventing catastrophic regional damage." Translation: Please don't follow us. Please don't punch anything important. Please just stay here and play with your badger.
To Shadow's surprise, Saitama just shrugged. "Okay, fine. But if you guys find any cool souvenirs in that spooky castle, grab me one. And if they have a gift shop that sells mini-catapults, definitely get me one of those. Mr. Fluffles would love it."
And so, under the cover of the perpetual twilight that clung to the Dragon's Tooth Peaks, two teams from Shadow Garden embarked on their perilous mission. Alpha and Epsilon, phantoms in the mist, began their silent ascent of the treacherous lower slopes leading to Castle Maleficus, their movements fluid and precise.
Shadow, accompanied by the ever-diligent Beta and the reluctantly cooperative Seraphina (who still looked like she was expecting Saitama to critique her posture or the way she tied her bootlaces), took a different, more daring route. Seraphina, with her knowledge of the Night Blades' hidden paths and Valerius's blind spots, guided them towards a series of ancient, crumbling stairways and forgotten ledges that wound their way up the sheer cliff face towards a less guarded, higher section of the castle.
The ascent was grueling. The wind howled like a banshee, threatening to tear them from the narrow footholds. Loose rocks cascaded into the misty abyss below. Strange, unseen creatures screeched from hidden crevices. It was exactly the kind of perilous, dramatic environment an Eminence in Shadow thrived in.
"Valerius rarely inspects these upper ramparts," Seraphina whispered, her voice barely audible above the wind. "He considers them… beneath his notice. His arrogance extends even to his own defenses."
"A fatal flaw," Shadow breathed, his cloak whipping around him like a living shadow. He felt a surge of his old, familiar thrill. This was it. The infiltration, the tension, the impending confrontation with a powerful, arrogant foe. No Saitama to accidentally sneeze the castle off its foundations. This was his moment.
As they climbed, Beta meticulously documented their route, her specially enchanted goggles piercing the gloom, her senses alert for any traps or magical wards. "The ambient dark energy is increasing exponentially, Lord Shadow. We are approaching a significant nexus. Valerius's throne room, or perhaps his… feeding chamber… cannot be far."
Meanwhile, back in Umbraglen, Saitama was, predictably, bored. He'd tried to teach Sooty the kitten advanced calculus (Sooty had just fallen asleep on the textbook). He'd attempted to have a philosophical debate with the one-legged raven (the raven had mostly just squawked "More jerky!"). He'd even tried to build a "super-duper relish-enhancing condiment shaker" out of spare parts Genos had lying around, but had mostly just succeeded in creating a device that vibrated alarmingly and occasionally shot sparks.
Genos, however, had been productive. He had analyzed the Shadowfire Demon-Pepper Relish recipe, cross-referenced it with his vast databanks, and was now attempting to synthesize a small, "stabilized and potency-optimized" test batch using the Demon-Peppers Saitama had "researched" and some locally sourced (and thoroughly scanned for toxins) ingredients. The aroma emanating from his makeshift alchemical setup was… potent. It smelled like a blacksmith's forge, a dragon's sneeze, and pure, unadulterated regret, all rolled into one.
"Sensei," Genos announced, holding up a small, bubbling vial of viscous, alarmingly crimson liquid, "I believe I have successfully synthesized a preliminary batch of the Shadowfire Demon-Pepper Relish. Would you care to… sample it?" He offered the vial with a pair of heavily insulated tongs.
Saitama's eyes lit up. "Whoa! Already? You're a genius, Genos!" He eagerly took the vial (ignoring the tongs) and, without hesitation, downed the entire contents in one gulp.
The reaction was… instantaneous. And spectacular.
Saitama's eyes bulged so far they looked like they might detach from his skull. His face turned a shade of purple usually reserved for dying galaxies. Steam, actual, visible steam, billowed from his ears, nose, and mouth. He let out a strangled roar that sounded like a jet engine trying to swallow a bag of angry badgers. He then began to run. Very, very fast. In a very, very small circle. Around Old Man Hemlock's cottage. Leaving a trail of scorched earth and bewildered forest creatures in his wake.
Mr. Fluffles, Sooty, Sir Reginald, and the raven all watched, their expressions ranging from mild alarm to profound, existential terror.
"HOO-AH-EE-YAAAH! FIRE! MY SOUL IS ABLAZE! MY VERY ATOMS ARE DOING THE CHA-CHA! GENOS! THIS ISN'T RELISH, THIS IS LIQUID SUNFIRE MIXED WITH THE TEARS OF A THOUSAND ANGRY GHOST PEPPERS!"
Genos, observing his Sensei's reaction with scientific detachment, made a note. "Observation: Potency levels appear to exceed initial projections. Recommend dilution for baseline human consumption. Or perhaps… direct weaponization."
It was at this precise moment, as Saitama was rocketing around the cottage like a capsaicin-fueled comet, that a new, unexpected development occurred, not in the Dragon's Tooth Peaks, but back in the recovering Royal Capital of Midgar.
Gamma, who had been left in charge of Shadow Garden's Midgar operations, burst into the temporary headquarters where Zeta, Eta, and a now slightly less traumatized Seraphina (who was finding Shadow Garden's internal politics and penchant for dramatic brooding strangely comforting after years with the Cult) were analyzing intelligence.
"Emergency!" Gamma panted, nearly tripping over a stack of arcane scrolls. "Urgent communique from… from the Royal Palace! And… and from several of our informants in the underworld!"
"What is it, Gamma?" Zeta asked, her usual cool demeanor tinged with concern.
"It's… it's the Godsbane Gauntlet!" Gamma exclaimed, her voice trembling. "The annual martial arts tournament! It… it has been moved up! It starts… tomorrow!"
Eta, who rarely spoke, actually looked up from her complex magical diagrams. "The Godsbane Gauntlet? But that is traditionally held during the Midwinter Festival. Why the sudden change?"
"The King!" Gamma explained, wringing her hands. "After the… recent events… he apparently decided the city needed a morale boost! A display of strength and unity! And… and according to our underworld contacts, several… unusually powerful and unknown combatants have registered at the last minute! There are whispers… whispers that some of the remaining Night Blades, or even other interdimensional entities, might be using the tournament as a cover to… to identify and eliminate potential threats! Or perhaps… to challenge him!" She gestured vaguely in the direction she assumed Saitama might be.
Seraphina's eyes widened. "The Godsbane Gauntlet… Valerius always considered it a… trivial amusement. But if other Night Blades are involved… or if this 'Master' sees it as another 'test'…"
Zeta and Eta exchanged a grim look. A city-wide martial arts tournament, suddenly moved up, with rumors of incredibly powerful, unknown participants, potentially including Night Blades and other interdimensional threats, all while their leader and their strongest (if most unpredictable) asset were off hunting a vampire count who might or might not be guarding a mythical relish recipe…
This was, to put it mildly, a recipe for disaster.
"We must inform Lord Shadow immediately!" Gamma declared. "And… and Saitama-sama! If these powerful entities are gathering… his strength will be needed!"
The problem, of course, was that Lord Shadow was currently scaling a treacherous cliff face in a perpetually twilit, mist-shrouded mountain range, about to infiltrate a vampire lord's castle. And Saitama-sama was currently experiencing a near-fatal overdose of hyper-concentrated Demon-Pepper extract and was likely in no condition to receive, much less comprehend, complex strategic briefings.
Back in the Dragon's Tooth Peaks, Shadow, Alpha, Beta, and Epsilon were nearing their respective infiltration points. The oppressive aura of Castle Maleficus loomed over them, a palpable weight of ancient evil and impending doom. The wind howled, carrying whispers of forgotten torments and the promise of fresh blood.
Shadow allowed himself a small, grim smile. This was it. The stage was set. The enemy was powerful, arrogant, and unsuspecting. His elite team was ready. This time, this time, the narrative would unfold according to his design. There would be stealth, there would be suspense, there would be a dramatic confrontation, and he, the Eminence in Shadow, would deliver the final, decisive—
Suddenly, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the stone beneath his feet. It was followed by another, slightly stronger. Then, a distant, echoing roar, a sound so powerful, so utterly, apocalyptically loud, that it seemed to shake the very foundations of the Dragon's Tooth Peaks. It was a roar of pure, unadulterated, capsaicin-fueled agony, a sound that could curdle blood and shatter eardrums from miles away.
Shadow froze. Alpha, Beta, and Epsilon froze. Even the howling wind seemed to pause, momentarily stunned into silence.
They all looked at each other, a single, unspoken, and utterly terrifying thought passing between them.
Saitama.
Beta's communication device, linked to Genos, suddenly crackled to life. Genos's voice, usually so calm and analytical, was strained, almost panicked.
"Lord Shadow! Alpha-sama! Urgent situation! Sensei has… uh… ingested a highly concentrated prototype of the Shadowfire Demon-Pepper Relish! His current… physiological reaction… is… exceeding all predictable parameters! He appears to be… releasing significant amounts of kinetic energy through uncontrolled locomotion and… extreme vocalizations! Recommend immediate… uh… culinary intervention? Or perhaps… a very large, very sturdy muzzle?"
Shadow closed his eyes. He could feel a headache, a truly epic, Eminence-sized headache, beginning to form behind his temples. His perfect infiltration, his dramatic confrontation, his moment of shadowy glory… was about to be preempted by a relish-induced rampage.
And somewhere, in a distant, recovering capital city, a martial arts tournament of potentially world-ending significance was about to begin, completely unaware of the bald, spicy, and very, very loud force of nature that might, or might not, be available to participate.
The universe, Cid Kagenou decided, didn't just have a sense of humor. It had a vendetta. And it was armed with chili peppers.