My Monster Evolution in One Punch Man

Even though the mission had a strict deadline, Hansen wasn't in any particular rush. Opportunities to sneak back into human society for a quick breather didn't come often, and he intended to make the most of it.

"I've been meaning to slack off for a while, but I can't exactly do it right under the boss's nose," he muttered, watching a high-speed bullet train tear across the elevated tracks in the distance. A quick mental calculation followed. "So, step one... disguise myself as a human and take the train to City M. Alright, decision's made."

As he left the deserted no-man's-land behind, the city ahead gradually came to life. Streams of cars flowed down the streets, and crowds of pedestrians moved quickly, their anxious faces marked by fatigue. Most of them carried a quiet, constant tension in their eyes, a mixture of vigilance and exhaustion that had clearly become second nature.

Giant digital billboards mounted atop tall commercial buildings looped advertisements from the Hero Association, public service announcements warning of potential monster disasters, followed by flashy recruitment drives urging brave citizens to sign up.

"Finally, something that actually feels like a modern city," Hansen remarked under his breath.

By the time he casually brushed off the third blushing girl to approach him for his contact info, his attention shifted toward a commotion nearby. On a side street lined with small shops, a group of punks was busy making their presence known.

They wore flashy, mismatched outfits, their hair dyed in gaudy colors, each one trying to outdo the others in absurdity. Cigarettes dangled from their lips, and they swaggered down the street with baseball bats and metal pipes, stepping into shops one by one like they owned the place. Most pedestrians, upon seeing them, took wide detours to avoid any potential conflict.

Every time the punks emerged from a store, they came out cursing, and the harshness of their words usually depended on whether they walked away with just a few bills or a thick roll of cash. The shopkeepers, mostly elderly locals, watched helplessly. Outnumbered and unwilling to provoke further trouble, they could do little except fork over the so-called "protection fees."

The air was heavy with restrained anger and silent resignation.

Hansen stopped in his tracks, a faint smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

"Looks like I've found my startup capital. You guys will do just fine."

Compared to the cute girls who had been trying to strike up conversation, he was clearly far more interested in this gang of cocky thugs.

Women only slow me down when I'm trying to make money. Well... unless they're rich.

Soon, the group of punks wrapped up their little collection round. Around seven or eight of them gathered at a quiet alley near the end of the block, laughing and stacking their earnings into sloppy bundles.

"Hahaha, not a bad haul today, boss!"

A wiry guy with bright yellow hair chuckled as he looked up to the burly man in the middle, a buzz-cut thug with a scarred face who clearly ran the show.

"Hmph, at least those old geezers know what's good for them," the leader sneered, patting the fat roll of cash in his jacket pocket. "Tonight we're hitting up that new nightclub, Golden Kitty. Heard they've got fresh girls. Real top shelf."

"Hell yeah!"

"Boss, you're the man!"

"Tonight, we're drinking till we drop!"

The thugs broke into loud cheers, already lost in visions of booze, women, and neon lights. None of them noticed that the mouth of the alley was now blocked by a tall, striking man whose aura radiated cold indifference.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, completely motionless. But in that moment, every possible exit behind them was quietly cut off.

"Huh?"

The buzz-cut thug was the first to spot Hansen, eyes narrowing with irritation. "Hey, punk, where the hell did you come from? Can't you see we're busy here? Fuck off!" he barked, his voice sharp with arrogance.

As Hansen stood his ground, the other gang members turned, smirks spreading across their faces. They swaggered closer, eyes glinting with malice.

"You got a death wish, pretty boy?"

"Hey, that coat looks expensive. Bet he's loaded."

"Damn it, he's actually better looking than me!"

"Boss, enough talk. Let's rough him up and teach him a lesson!"

"Yeah, lets fuck him!"

"Yeah! …wait what? "

Hansen's gaze moved calmly across the thugs, pausing on the bulging pocket of the leader's jacket. He sighed, voice low and unhurried. "There are laws for countries, and rules for the streets. Your little gang's got no manners at all."

The buzz-cut thug raised an eyebrow, then threw his head back laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all year. He stepped forward, grin full of vicious glee.

"Manners?" he scoffed. He swung a thick, calloused hand straight at Hansen's face. "I'll show you manners!"

Smack!

The sharp sound rang out, but not from a slap. Hansen's hand had shot up, fingers clamped effortlessly around the man's wrist. The thug's face went white as pain lanced through his arm. His wrist twisted grotesquely, drawing a hoarse, animalistic scream from his throat.

"L-let go! It's... it's broken!"

The alley fell silent. The other punks exchanged wide-eyed looks as the reality sank in. Then their boss, face red with fury and pain, spat out through clenched teeth, "What are you idiots waiting for?! Get him! Kill him!"

Snapping out of their stupor, the thugs roared and charged. Weapons swung wildly, but Hansen moved like a phantom. His fists and feet flashed with lethal precision. The air filled with dull cracks, sharp thuds, and agonized screams.

Seconds later, silence returned.

Hansen stepped out of the alley, his coat immaculate, his hair unruffled. A thick wad of cash rested casually in his hand, the spoils of his brief, one-sided fight.

"Well, that solves my money problem," he murmured, slipping the cash into his pocket.

Behind him, the alley was littered with motionless bodies. A few broken limbs stuck out of an overflowing garbage bin, twisted at angles that left no doubt about the outcome.

It wasn't heroism, but Hansen felt no guilt. After all, he'd simply robbed the robbers.

In this world, Hansen was completely undocumented. When he had first crossed over, he hadn't even been human, so there was no record of his existence anywhere.

According to the information he'd inherited, the body he now inhabited had originally been human, later transformed into a monster. Fortunately, the merged memories retained many vivid fragments from its human life.

After weighing his options, Hansen decided to head to the nearest police station. To his surprise, the entire process went far more smoothly than expected. He gave them his original name and identity and, without much questioning, was issued a temporary ID card.

Next, he made his way to a bank. There, too, things were straightforward. He claimed his old card had been lost, received a replacement, and even deposited part of his cash.

His final stop was a large shopping mall. In the electronics section, he picked out the newest smartphone model and made the purchase without hesitation. As he slid his fingers across the glossy screen, watching the familiar icons and interface spring to life, a strange, surreal feeling washed over him. It was like stepping back into the world he had once known.

Buzz~ buzz buzz,

His phone vibrated lightly. A bank notification appeared at the top of the screen, signaling a recent change to his account balance.

"Uh..." Hansen blinked and scratched his chin, staring at the numbers on the screen. The amount was roughly equivalent to a typical office worker's monthly salary.

"Hmm... turns out I didn't need to rob anyone after all?" he muttered with a lopsided grin.

He paused for a second of silence, perhaps as a show of respect for the unlucky thugs, before casually dismissing the thought. It hadn't been pointless anyway. That little skirmish had helped him mentally transition back into society, made him feel just a bit more human again, as though he had been truly reborn.

Effortlessly navigating the new phone, Hansen pulled up a map, checked a few options, and bought himself a train ticket. He wandered for a while, taking in the scenery, and eventually arrived at the high-speed rail station in Z-City.

After a quick scan of his ticket, he boarded the train and located his seat. As expected, the decline of Z-City had affected even the transportation system; the train headed for M-City was nearly empty. Hansen found himself completely alone in the carriage.

The train began its slow crawl out of the station, gradually gaining speed. The outside world blurred past in reverse as they left the city behind. Inside the sleek, empty compartment, the only sounds were the low, steady hum of the engine and the rhythmic clatter of wheels on steel rails.

Hansen leaned back, arms folded behind his head, letting his thoughts drift. But just a moment later, something tugged at his awareness, and he suddenly sat upright.

"Huh...?"

He glanced around.

Z-City... behind him.

An empty train.

No one else in sight.

"This exact scene... hadn't it just happened before?"