Flame clouds lifted a row of frost-covered freight containers.
Then they were dropped onto the empty street outside an abandoned villa.
Aokiji swept Ice Blade through the air.
The containers split as easily as paper meeting a craft knife—clean, crisp.
Shards of iron clattered down.
A gallery of Monster ice sculptures filled the deserted road.
Each Monster had been frozen in a different final pose.
Some caught mid-snarl, fists still swinging.
Others stared, bewildered to the last.
A few writhed in remembered terror.
Aokiji rested a hand on the most dramatic statue—the first Monster he had ever defeated: Sky King.
In the original story he had lasted barely ten seconds, a mere stepping-stone.
Yet by the setting's own rules Sky King, Subterranean King and Deep Sea King were equals.
They embodied the rulers of sky, land and sea.
Their strengths differed only in emphasis.
Deep Sea King, who appeared most often, displayed the most balanced mix of regeneration, toughness, power and speed.
Subterranean King had not performed badly either.
And that was not counting the God-level Dream Subterranean King.
By then Saitama was already bald and invincible.
After finishing a heart-pounding battle in a dream,
he heard the real-world declaration of war and mistook it for a worthy opponent.
He rushed out in excitement and crushed Subterranean King with one stomp.
Again, the bald Devil King had settled things in a single move.
Yet that had been a kick delivered with full Battle Intent!
After taking the blow, Subterranean King's corpse had remained intact—no explosion of gore.
Proof enough of monstrous durability.
As things stood, Subterranean King was still alive, living with his kind beneath the abandoned districts of Z-City.
Their nest would later be seized by the Monster Association as a base.
While thawing the statues, Aokiji weighed whether to eliminate Subterranean King now.
Sky King and Deep Sea King were already in his collection.
Without Subterranean King the set felt as unsatisfying as a handiwork series missing its final figure.
"Lord Aokiji—"
Mosquito Girl dashed out at the noise.
Her pupils dilated as she took in the frozen gallery.
"All this blood is for me?"
"Yes, just needs a quick thaw… and what are you wearing?"
"I designed it myself!"
She spun proudly, the shredded remains of a maid dress flaring around her.
It might be called eye-catching.
But calling it attractive was a stretch.
"You planning to beg outside a blood bank dressed like that?"
Aokiji found her taste impossible to fathom.
He could guess the motive—less fabric meant easier feeding.
Whether through clumsy scissors or sheer aesthetic blindness,
she had turned a decent garment into a rag even a tramp would refuse.
The cut-outs at back and waist were jagged, threads poking like straw, slashes placed at random.
She saw nothing wrong; she even enjoyed the ragged look.
"Doesn't it work?" She tilted her head.
"Isn't less cloth sexier?"
With a disappointed sigh she peeled the rag off.
The natural patterns on her skin looked far better.
"Start feeding. Let's see how much it takes to push you to Dragon Level."
Aokiji moderated his breath, warming the frozen blood.
Mosquito Girl swallowed hard and began her feast.
In the silent, desolate zone,
split container walls littered the ground and grotesque ice statues lined the street.
The unsettling sound of blood being drawn went on without pause.
Aokiji kept heating and offering Monster blood.
Mosquito Girl's expression turned rapturous, eyes glazed.
First a blush of pleasure rose to her cheeks, then her whole hue began to shift.
A vivid, dangerous red deepened until it dyed her entirely.
Her curves, flushed scarlet, carried an almost bewitching allure.
Her body hardly grew, yet her presence became more tempting and deadly.
Her hair lengthened into a pink-white gradient, floating around her.
The dazed look faded from her eyes.
Surging power sharpened her gaze, hungry, as she stared at Aokiji's back.
Such strength—
she had never felt so satisfied.
Still—
she wanted more, fuller, richer—
Mosquito Girl glided forward on legs that looked sheathed in scarlet hose, eyes blazing.
Now she should be able to taste…
Buzz——
An invisible pressure descended.
The air turned heavy as lead.
Her breath caught; clarity snapped back into her eyes.
"Keep drinking." Aokiji glanced back, calm. "Or would you rather test me?"
The very atmosphere seemed to solidify; fear rippled through her Blood.
She shook her head so fast it blurred, afraid she might join the frozen exhibition.
Hastily she resumed feeding.
These creatures always sprouted absurd confidence.
Aokiji no longer found it surprising.
Even among the statues, a third had been cursing to the end.
Mosquito Girl drank in anxious silence.
Inside, she felt wronged.
She had never meant to attack; she had simply believed her new power and beauty would seduce him.
Just a sip of Lord Aokiji's blood—why was it so hard? she sighed inwardly, unwilling to give up.
She pondered hard.
By the time half the statues were drained,
her blood sacs swollen, an idea struck her.
"Lord Aokiji, I think I've reached my limit…" she murmured timidly.
"You're nowhere near the ceiling Genus mentioned." He turned, curious what she would try next.
"But…" She put on a troubled face. "I really can't absorb any more; there's only so much I can take in a short time."
That much was true.
Ordinary blood she could devour and convert almost instantly.
Stronger blood needed longer to process; she was still digesting the last batch when the next arrived.
Like a pool being filled and drained at once, if the inflow stayed larger, it would overflow eventually.
"Unless," she hinted, sliding closer,
"I could get a drop of something richer—blood ten times stronger.
A single sip of that might finish my transformation!"
Her eyes sparkled, glassy crimson.
"And if there's no such blood, something else… might be even more nourishing…!"
...
[Throw some stones]