tournament arc · hidden abilities · high stakes · diverse origins · combat gear · unpredictable alliances · raw power · wildcard entries · battle-worn · frenetic aggression
Dust swirls across the cracked earth of the arena, the air heavy with the static of clashing egos. The fighters stand in a loose semi-circle, their gazes sharpening as they size up the new arrival. Saitama breaks the oppressive silence with a lazy, casual wave of his hand. "Oh, hey there!" he chirps, his expression completely blank. Beside him, Garou lets out a low, guttural scoff, his eyes narrowing in disgust. "Tch. Look at this loser. He looks pathetic," he mutters, the threat of violence rolling off him in waves. Genos doesn't even look at him, his metallic voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Keep your mouth shut, Garou." Floating a few inches off the ground, Tatsumaki crosses her arms, her green curls shimmering as she looks down her nose at you with pure disdain. "Seriously…