My Monster Evolution in One Punch Man

"W-who's there…?"

King's frightened voice came out hoarse, carrying the rasp of someone who had only just woken. From outside, a cheerful voice rang back, full of energy.

"King, it's five o'clock. Time to get up for morning training."

King froze. The voice was bright and magnetic, filled with vigor, yet to him it sounded more like the whisper of a devil.

"Ahhh!!"

With a despairing scream, he yanked the blanket over his head and curled up tightly, hiding like an ostrich in a desperate attempt to escape reality. But reality was always harsher than any nightmare.

…

Ten minutes later, on a quiet path in a secluded park, King stood in a brand new but slightly oversized tracksuit. His eyes were lifeless as he looked up at the sky, still dark as ink. A cold wind brushed against him, and he shivered, feeling as though he had not truly woken at all. It had to be a dream. A nightmare, to be exact.

Meanwhile, Hansen looked full of energy, one hand holding a steaming cup of freshly brewed hand-poured coffee. He took a sip, savoring the taste, as if deliberately mirroring the same casual joy King had flaunted yesterday when he crushed him with one hand while sipping a soda.

King's lips twitched. If he had known Hansen was this vindictive, he never would have dared to act smug in front of him.

"Since today's the first day, let's start with the basics," Hansen announced. He raised his hand and listed the routine with casual ease. "One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats, and a ten-kilometer run. How about it? Simple enough, right?"

King's expression remained stoic, the perfect mask of a seasoned warrior. But inside, the tiny version of him was coughing up blood. Terrifying training like this would kill him outright.

When he didn't move, Hansen calmly cracked his knuckles. The sharp pops echoed through the empty park, each one striking King's heart like an invisible whip.

"King, this is the special training plan I spent all night carefully preparing for you," Hansen continued with mock sincerity. "I call it… The Strongest on Earth Training Plan. You wouldn't want my hard work to go to waste, would you?"

Under Hansen's kind yet piercing gaze, King's body trembled. His eyes watered until tears streamed freely down his cheeks.

Just kill me already…

…

An hour later, King lay sprawled across a park bench, gasping like a salted fish tossed out of water. His arms braced weakly against his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Huff… huff… I can't… I really can't move another inch…"

The designer tracksuit that had once looked sharp now clung to him like a wet rag, drenched in sweat. Every curve of his softened body showed through, including the slight belly he had gained after years of inactivity.

As dawn broke and the first hints of light touched the sky, King felt as though his soul was slipping away with the fading darkness.

"Here, take a break."

Beside him, Hansen handed over a bottle of sports drink he had just bought from the vending machine. His tone was calm, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes.

"See? If you grit your teeth, you can actually keep going." Hansen smiled, "Don't underestimate your own potential, King."

Grateful, King accepted the drink, twisted the cap open, and gulped down several mouthfuls to steady his breath. A forced smile tugged at his lips, but it looked more painful than crying. "Hansen, maybe we should stop here for today… I need time to get used to this."

"No way!" Hansen cut him off without hesitation, his tone firm and resolute. "We've already passed the halfway point of today's training. If you quit now, all your effort will go to waste. Abandoning halfway is not what a strong man does!"

His words struck with fiery conviction. Hansen's eyes gleamed with determination as he leaned forward, speaking earnestly. "King, do you really want to live your whole life as a coward, or do you want to truly become the strongest man on Earth?"

King fell silent. His throat tightened, and his lips trembled as unspoken thoughts clawed at him. He wanted to say it aloud, that no matter how much he trained, he could never become the true strongest, but the words refused to leave his mouth.

At that exact moment, a terrified scream tore through the park.

"Ahhh! Pervert! Don't come any closer!"

Both men turned toward the sound.

Not far away, a young woman in snug workout shorts and a sports bra, her figure toned and her long hair tied into a high ponytail, was cornered by a sinister-looking monster. She trembled violently and pressed against the edge of the park.

It was a jackal-shaped creature, standing upright on two legs. Gray fur covered his wiry frame, and the stench rolling off him was so rancid it felt as though he had not bathed in months. Most grotesque of all, a pair of lacy pink women's panties sat perched on his head like a twisted crown.

"Hehehe… don't be shy, pretty girl. What color are your panties? Show me already!" The jackal's laughter grated like sandpaper on glass. He stretched out a clawed hand, reaching greedily for the girl's shorts that already left too much skin exposed.

"Hand over your fragrant panties! Let me, the great Panty Pervert, mutated by my passion for girls' underwear, savor them properly!"

The girl's ponytail swayed as her entire body shook in terror. Her complexion drained to paper-white, her eyes filling with despair. Step by step, she was forced backward until her back hit the cold decorative wall of the park. Trapped, she crossed her arms over her chest, squeezed her eyes shut, and screamed.

"Help! Someone, please! There's a pervert!"

Though King's body was wracked with pain, his bones aching as though every joint might collapse, that desperate cry pushed him to his feet. He staggered upright from the bench, his muscles screaming in protest.

The sight of that panty-headed monster so brazenly threatening an innocent woman made his chest tighten. His pulse thundered in his ears.

The Emperor Engine roared to life once more.

King's face blanched, yet his thoughts spun in a panic. He doesn't look that strong… could I maybe…?

Over the years, after countless brushes with death, King had honed one survival tactic: silence and intimidation.

If he stood tall, expression cold, his thunderous heartbeat alone often convinced weaker monsters that he possessed terrifying strength. More than once, enemies had crumbled before him, collapsing in fear without a fight.

But Hansen had no intention of letting him simply play the part.

"Stay focused on your training. I'll deal with small fry like this."

Before King could even process the words, Hansen blurred into motion. His figure vanished from the bench, moving faster than King's eyes could follow.

The perverted jackal froze mid-lunge. His claws were inches from the girl's shorts when a gale, sharp enough to tear eardrums, screamed past his head. He jerked his gaze upward in shock.

The last thing he saw was a fist, so fast it left no afterimage, engulfing his vision.

BOOM!

A deafening shockwave erupted over the park, like a supersonic jet ripping the air apart.

The Panty Pervert's skull and upper torso exploded on impact. His head snapped back as though hit by a speeding truck, body twisting grotesquely before it burst into a spray of gore that rained in crimson mosaic across the grass.