My Monster Evolution in One Punch Man

A force strong enough to instantly obliterate an average Demon-level monster was, to Rover, nothing more than a pleasant warm-up.

With all six of its eyes narrowed in bliss, the enormous beast obediently sprawled out, allowing Hansen to brush and comb its sleek fur as he pleased. A deep, satisfied rumble vibrated from its throat as he carried on with the grooming session, which lasted a full hour without pause.

Only when he was done did Hansen finally speak.

"Here's the thing, Lord Rover. I have to leave for a little while to complete a mission from Lord Gyoro Gyoro. It should only take a few days."

Hearing that, Rover tilted its massive head, a puzzled look in its eyes. The big dog had received all its incredible power from Gyoro Gyoro, so naturally, if Hansen was leaving on the same superior's orders, there was nothing it could do to object.

Still, a soft whine escaped its throat, and it looked directly at him with a question in its gaze: "But if you're gone... who's going to bring the food?"

Hansen gave its head a firm pat. By now, Rover was fully used to his touch and didn't resist.

"Relax. Everything's already set up. My subordinates will deliver your meals every day, right on schedule."

Rover let out a small huff to show it understood, then nudged Hansen gently with its enormous snout, releasing a low string of whimpers as it did.

Hansen exhaled and braced himself. It was a good thing his body was so durable. If it had been any ordinary Demon-class monster, one of those affectionate nudges would have sent them flying straight to the afterlife.

And as for what Rover was trying to say, Hansen understood it perfectly, thanks to his maxed-out Doggo-speak.

The food wouldn't stop coming, sure, but the taste wouldn't be the same without his cooking. After all, once someone had eaten proper meals, who wanted to go back to chewing on cold, raw slabs of meat?

Looking into Rover's eyes, still gleaming with a trace of pitiful hope, Hansen was sure the Dragon-level mutt's happiness bar was completely full by now.

He patted its giant head again and smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be back soon. And when I return, I'll bring you some new flavors from the surface."

The moment those last three words left his mouth, Rover's eyes lit up like lanterns, and its tail began to wag wildly. The force of it shattered the flat ground beneath, blowing out several crater-like holes as though artillery had hit.

The giant beast let out an excited bark that needed no translation: "New flavors? Now that's exciting!"

Hansen left without returning to his own domain. Instead, he made his way straight toward the surface. The complex, multilayered tunnels twisted ahead of him, but he moved quickly through them, passing by patrolling low-level monsters who instantly sensed his intense Demon-level aura and cleared the way without question.

At last, a soft, natural light came into view, accompanied by the familiar scent of fresh, unfiltered air. It was the exit to the surface.

Climbing the final few steps, Hansen allowed the black armor that had covered his body to recede. In its place stood a strikingly handsome young man, a calm smile playing on his lips as he stood bathed in warm sunlight.

"The human world... here I come."

…

Stepping out from the damp, gloomy tunnel, the long-absent sunlight nearly blinded him. Hansen narrowed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in the dry, smog-filled air of the surface.

It was far from fresh, but compared to the reeking atmosphere underground, where blood and rot clung to every inch, this air carried a rough yet unmistakable vitality.

He had surfaced on the outskirts of Z-City, once a thriving urban hub now showing clear signs of decay.

In the far distance, a few isolated pedestrians and the rare vehicle still moved about, but where Hansen now stood, among the abandoned shopping streets, every storefront had already gone dark.

Some shops stood with their doors yawning open.

Inside, toppled shelves and scattered merchandise covered the ground, most of it stomped into uselessness. The shopkeepers had clearly fled, vanishing in broad daylight without so much as a trace left behind.

The scene was filled with emptiness and stillness, a desolate hush that swallowed any sense of normal life. Though the Hero Association had yet to discover the Monster Association's underground network, its influence had long begun to seep upward, spreading unease and hidden fear toward the surface world above.

The increasingly frequent attacks by high-level monsters had left the locals anxious and on edge, prompting many to flee toward safer urban zones deeper inland.

Whispers soon turned into a legend, shared by monsters and civilians alike. They claimed something truly terrifying lived here.

It made no distinction, whether strong monsters or curious human explorers, none who entered this district ever returned. The only evidence of their fate was mutilated corpses, scattered and nightmarish, chilling to even glance at.

But Hansen knew the truth behind the so-called terrifying presence. It wasn't a monster at all, but that unpredictable hero with a shaved head, Saitama, the Caped Baldy.

The dead civilians were clearly victims of monsters, but as for those monsters themselves, once they crossed paths with Saitama, none survived. Ordinary people only saw the broken bodies left in his wake.

Over time, confusion turned to superstition, and fear evolved into a tale of terror. And now, this part of the city had begun to drift toward becoming a genuine ghost town.

"Master Saitama, huh…" Hansen repeated the name in his heart.

Despite the reputation, he felt no particular dread. He knew that Saitama had his own way of evaluating monsters.

Hansen, even now, retained a human soul. Ever since his transformation, he had never once taken pleasure in killing innocents. As long as he held to that principle and avoided true atrocities, he figured that even if Saitama noticed him, he'd likely be mistaken for a particularly muscular civilian.

In other words, there was no need to provoke any attention. Still, the current situation reminded him uncomfortably of the so-called Bald Demon King's condition: he was flat broke. And, worse yet, he didn't even have clothes. With his good, sexy body, people might mistake him for a stripper who had run straight out of a bar.

Looking down at his sculpted physique, every muscle defined in perfect balance, Hansen placed his hands on his hips.

"Top priority right now is to find something to wear. Man, this reminded me how the Terminator got his clothes."

In this world's absurd logic, "monsterification" had one interesting feature: if you were wearing clothes during transformation, they adapted with you. But if you weren't, you reset to default every single time.

Hansen, unfortunately, belonged to the latter category. Each transformation left him in his natural state, bare and exposed. While he didn't exactly dislike showing off, with a body like his, far exceeding human standards and paired with an unrealistically handsome face, there was little to be ashamed of; it still felt improper to roam around like this.

A man needed at least a shred of dignity.

"There are so many closed shops… one of them's bound to still have something left." Muttering under his breath, he turned his attention to the deserted street ahead.

Most of the shops were shuttered and empty, but his eyes quickly caught on a half-open clothing store with a crooked sign swaying in the breeze. Without pausing, he walked straight toward it.

Minutes later, Hansen stepped back out, looking like a man straight off the pages of a fashion magazine. He'd picked a black turtleneck sweater as his inner layer, topped with a dark gray wool coat that hugged his waist snugly. The coat's clean-cut hem stopped just below his hips, drawing attention to his enviable proportions, the kind of waist-to-leg ratio that turned heads.

His pants were slim-fit dress slacks made from a slightly stretchy material, the fabric molding naturally around his powerful thighs and calves. They didn't restrict movement in the slightest, and the overall silhouette radiated confidence and elegance.

Given Hansen's build and facial features, he could have worn rags and still looked unfairly attractive. But dressed like this, he looked like a model engineered in a lab to seduce on sight. He was basically walking temptation.

And it wasn't just women who'd be turning to stare. With his face and muscle mass, he was bound to leave quite a wide spectrum of admirers blushing.

After scanning his surroundings and confirming no one was in sight, Hansen bent his knees slightly, then launched himself skyward with barely any effort, landing softly on the rooftop of a nearby office building. From that vantage point, all of Z-City spread out before him.

His silhouette flickered, and in the next instant, he was already several blocks away, now strolling down a new street with both hands tucked casually in his coat pockets, headed toward the heart of the city.