After the dinner gathering ended—
Ron and Fubuki left together, and just as they were about to exit the deserted zone...
They happened to run into Sweet Mask, who had returned to investigate once more.
Fubuki’s eyes widened in surprise.
Why would the Number One A-Class hero show up here?
Sweet Mask squinted at her and said, "You’re... Hellish Blizzard of the B-Class. What are you doing here?"
"That’s none of your business," Fubuki responded sharply, staring straight at him.
Sweet Mask began walking toward them.
"True, it’s none of my business. But even if you don’t tell me, I already know."
He stopped about five meters in front of them, then slowly removed the sunglasses from his face, revealing that devastatingly handsome visage that made girls scream wherever he went.
"You’re here to investigate that guy’s trail too, aren’t you?"
Investigate that guy?
Sweet Mask caught her brief expression shift and raised a brow.
"You’re not here to investigate the identity of the Swordmaster?"
So that’s why he came—he’s after the Swordmaster’s identity.
But how does he know the Swordmaster appeared here?
Fubuki couldn’t help glancing at Ron beside her.
Sweet Mask noticed her gaze and followed it—his eyes landing on the unfamiliar young man next to her.
Handsome, yes. Not much inferior to himself in appearance. But definitely not someone from the Hero Association registry. An unrelated civilian?
That guy’s eyes—those were the eyes of a true powerhouse.
Sweet Mask stared at Ron, silently coming to a conclusion.
Ron, hands in his pockets, looked back calmly. "Do you need something?"
In a blur, Sweet Mask darted forward like a flash of light, launching a fierce, slicing strike toward Ron’s shoulder. The move split the air with its intensity!
It was too sudden. Fubuki hadn’t even reacted yet.
But in the next instant—
Sweet Mask’s body shot backward like a cannonball, slamming into a nearby building with a tremendous crash, sending up a cloud of dust and rubble.
As Fubuki stood dumbfounded, Ron silently retracted his right leg, his expression unchanged.
After the two of them left—
Covered in dust and looking more than a little battered, Sweet Mask suddenly stirred inside the ruined building. He sat up, clutching his caved-in chest—at least three ribs broken.
Just one hit, and he knocked me out cold!
Sitting amidst the debris, Sweet Mask clenched his teeth, fists trembling.
There was no doubt about it—that man was him!
No one else could possibly possess that kind of power!
Sweet Mask gritted his teeth, leaning on a wall as he slowly stepped out from the rubble. His face was pale, but his eyes—razor sharp.
I’ve found you, Swordmaster. The rıghtful source is 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢·𝔫𝔢𝔱
This is just the beginning.
Once outside, his injuries already mostly healed, Sweet Mask stood straight under the sunlight, tilted his head to the sky, eyes ice-cold.
I underestimated you today. Next time, I’ll show you what I’m really capable of.
That Number One B-Class hero—Hellish Blizzard—she was walking with him. Does that mean she already knew who he was?
Then what about Tatsumaki, the S-Class?
Sweet Mask’s eyes flickered, and he quickly pulled out his phone to call her.
When Fubuki returned home, she was surprised to find that Tatsumaki was actually there.
"Sis? Weren’t you out dealing with those meteorite fragments in the sky?"
"Handled that ages ago."
Tatsumaki floated in front of her, arms crossed, staring intently.
"What’s with you, Sis?" Fubuki asked nervously.
"Fubuki," Tatsumaki said coldly, "you’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?"
Fubuki’s heart skipped a beat.
"Eh? N-No, of course not!"
"Really?" Tatsumaki narrowed her eyes. "Don’t even try lying to me. I’m your sister—I can tell at a glance when you’re trying to hide something."
Cold sweat dripped down Fubuki’s forehead.
At Fubuki’s lavish private mansion.
The front door opened, revealing Fubuki in casual homewear—curves in all the right places, fair skin, and a slender waist that could be encircled with one hand.
Ron stood there with a baseball cap on, glancing at her. "You called me over out of the blue. What’s going on?"
Fubuki quickly looked away, avoiding his gaze.
"J-Just come in for now."
Ron gave her a long look, then stepped into the entryway, removed his shoes, and entered the villa.
The place was indeed spacious, bright, and meticulously tidy. Nothing like Saitama’s place.
He walked into the living room and sat down on the luxurious sofa. Glancing toward the kitchen, he asked, "Do you live alone?"
"It’s just me and my sister, but she’s rarely home."
Fubuki had her back to him as she asked, "Do you want coffee or juice?"
"Got any cola? Ice cold."
Ron looked around. The mansion was large and elegant, but if you lived here alone... it probably felt pretty empty.
[Ding. Detected current location—Fubuki’s villa. Sign-in available. Sign in?]
You can sign in here too?
[Ding! Sign-in successful. Rewards acquired:
+10 Vitality, +10 Spirit.
Unlocked reward: Word-Spirit Art.
Gained: +1 Sign-in Point.]
Ron was intrigued and opened his status panel.
[Word-Spirit Art: Consumes spirit energy to make your words manifest as reality. The greater the scale, the more energy is consumed. Cannot be used recklessly.]
Words become reality... that’s powerful.
Ron glanced over at Fubuki, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
Should I try it out...?
Fubuki was bending over, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of chilled cola, when she suddenly heard Ron’s voice:
"So, what did you call me here for?"
The voice carried an inexplicable weight to it, as if charged with some kind of magical force.
Without thinking, Fubuki blurted out, "I accidentally told my sister about your identity... I called you over to explain in person."
As soon as the words left her lips—
Fubuki’s eyes widened in shock. She slapped her hand over her mouth, confused and flustered.
"Eh?! What the hell just happened?!"
"Ohh," Ron said with a knowing smile. "So you spilled my secret and felt guilty about it, and invited me over to apologize."
"U-Um..." Fubuki tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks flushing red.
In the end, she gave a deep, solemn bow.
"I’m really, really sorry!"
Ron, already back on the sofa, was now holding the cola she’d been about to bring him.
"It’s fine. What’s done is done."
Fubuki looked up at him in surprise.
Ron took a sip of the ice-cold drink. "I’m not so petty as to get mad over something like that. I just don’t like unnecessary trouble."
Fubuki patted her chest in relief.