OPM BELONGS belongs to ONE and Yusuke Murata.
MUSHOKU TENSEI belongs to Rifujin na Magonote.

CHAPTER 1: REASONS

Things should have ended differently if it weren't for him. All of his desire and goal would have been in his grasp should this thing never happen.

The world is truly cruel, never leaving a choice for those who aren't in its favor. The weaklings and the invalids, all of them would meet the same fate.

Defeated, trampled, annihilated.

Broken and beaten, Garou could only kneel down from the utter exhaustion and excruciating pain. Reality had clutched him in the worst way he could imagine.

It left the Hero Hunter no more than an empty husk.

"What should I do now?" Garou muttered as darkness quenched the spirit in his eyes.

The hero who stood before him was none but a sick joke the world had offered. To mock him and dance upon his agonizing failure.

This hero was Saitama, a pinnacle of demented justice who nailed a crushing defeat into Garou, shattering his entire view about the world. His forgettable face belied the power bestowed upon him.

Garou was lost. That's a fact.

Saitama was the winner?

That was the matter Garou wanted to deny, if he could.

However hard he thought about the fact, reality would never change. His monster hobby was utterly demolished by the baldy's hero hobby.

In a sickeningly amateurish fashion, no less.

More power? More speed? More technique? And eventually, what more?

All of them went futile, obsolete, before this hero's awfully simple moves.

His monster game was over. He couldn't offer any denial at last.

Now, who should take the blame? Was it him?

Of course not, because it was the world who toyed him. It was the people who always put him at the receiving end of their wrong. It was them, who turned him into a monster.

THEY SHOULD TAKE THE BLAME FOR ALL OF THIS!

In silence, Garou reined in his thoughts, pondering about the meaning of all this mess. None of it made sense. Why did he lose? Wasn't he the one who took a bloody hard effort to climb the stairs?

Others had taken their role as heroes, but he was true to himself, dedicating his life to tread the path of being a monster that people had stamped upon him. Still, was it wrong to attain victory as a monster and prove to the world that evil might grant peace?

On the sideline, the heroes who had watched and dared to stop his little stunt had one word of final decision for him:

Death.

Death for being a monster. Death for causing major damage. Death for beating the heroes, even though none were killed.

Saitama, on the other hand, did not share their view. He remained in a contemplating apathy, regarding his defeated opponent without any ounce of emotion in his bearing.

Under his emotionless gaze, Garou replayed the transpiring events in his mind and Saitama's words as well. By his disgraceful mercy, Garou was still alive, spared from demise for the moment.

He was still breathing, but the utter humiliation he received was enough to mortally choke his soul. He had transformed into the being he desired to be, only to be swatted around, slammed about and smacked down until his power left his body.

It was… senseless. Utterly foolish.

Moreover, Saitama spared him just because he considered him, the Hero Hunter, as no one but a guy in a monster costume who tried to act as a hero.

It pissed him off to no end.

Some of those fools who ranted about justice now was barking, begging Saitama to finish him off for good.

The bald guy's face was still bored and pensive. He didn't budge, even when a certain celeb among those who Garou had beaten threatened him.

Then, a voice of an old man filled his eardrum, snapping him out of his deafening stupor. He turned his hollow gaze and sneered.

"I don't need a lecture! Just kill me already, you old fart!"

His former master, Silver Fang, complied and lectured him with his fist. All manners of his moves, be it punch, slap, jab, thrust and kick landed on the disciple's person in a matter of seconds.

'This is it… isn't it?' Garou's thoughts wandered to his unfolding fate, demise by the hand of his master.

His master's beating went on, but he felt nothing. Bang's moves were hollow.

'… No power behind them. This… is like the time when he kicked me out.'

All of his actions turned out to be a farce? A blatant lie Bang displayed before the fallen heroes? But for what?

The act of punishment came to a halt for a moment. Saitama came forward to regard Garou once again. And again, he bore no interest on his face despite the agitated push from the heroes behind him.

"I beat you. Are you really fine with that?!"

Would he really be fine with that? No answer could come to mind.

Until that boy showed up.

Tareo shouted and begged Saitama and everyone present to spare Garou. The kid kept yelling as he cried.

And the lad also howled at him, telling him to run lest the maddened heroes gang him.

The beaten Hero Hunter woke up from his trance. His body moved on its own and pulled him to a flight, escaping the murderous glares of the so-called S-Class fools.

In that split second of escape, only three faces he could bear to look at. What his vision absorbed were the plain face of Saitama, that pleading look of Tareo and the expression of sorrow in Bang.

He bid his silent farewell as his body brought him to seek refuge.

Towards the place where the wind blew.

Towards a retreat where he could find consolation to mend his wounded soul. A place which would allow him to ponder about the lesson he drew from this ill-fated Hunt.

The quiet mountain range which stretched over the border of City Z eventually was the place which welcomed the Lost Hunter. With discouraged steps, he traversed the rocky path.

In this silent pilgrimage, he had learned that nothing was left for him. This unforgiving world did not even spare any space to seek a refuge, both for his battered body and his aching soul.

Being a wretched and despised thing, no place would accept him anymore.

Eventually, becoming a monster was not fun. He really had reaped what he sowed.

In the end, he failed to determine his desire. Becoming a monster to establish order? Did that also mean he just shortened his way to become a hero?

Nonsense. Because he still believed that he was a monster. A true symbol of fear.

But, what kind of monster preached about a desirable condition called peace? Was that the goal as a hero?

Hero and justice. Monster and evil. At this point, he couldn't make the difference between them. Everything was fuzzy, thanks to that caped-baldy.

Everything turned into confusion, melted and blurred in the vast space of his thought.

Provided that his head was still working after that baldy smashed it repeatedly.

With his deteriorating sanity, what might grant him salvation after this ordeal was oblivion, probably. To release all the bounds and fly into nothingness. To forget all those hard feelings.

Pain and suffering.

Rage and hatred.

Disillusionment and despair.

Lost in the limbo of his thought, Garou walked and walked and walked until his numb feet brought him to a curious place on top of that mountain. At the summit was a dilapidated building meant for those who visit that ground. Adjacent to it was a pouring waterfall with clear crystal water.

"The Legendary Final Training Ground."

Garou spat, sensing the lingering bitterness from the recollection about his former master. He might not admit it, but Bang was the one who told him about the existence of this place.

A testing ground called sacred for those who believed themselves to have surpassed their human limit, and sought for more. Either to attain the highest truth, or perish in their path.

"Is this the answer for my thoughts? What a joke?" Garou scoffed as he gazed at the stairs leading towards the training ground.

The Lost Hunter let his thoughts swirl in doubt for a moment, pondering at his next course of action. He didn't think much about divinities or any supernatural aspect around it. This place might be a damn farce or just an ordinary recluse.

A place to run for some freaks. A spot for those who had lost their minds.

Speaking about a freak, was he a freak already?

Took the old man's fighting style and honed it through a long bloody struggle then finally used it to cause mayhem? Only a madman who would do that.

"So, it's true. I'm a freak."

Garou bitterly chuckled. He ended up in this place for nuts and maybe it was good for him. It was good since it was all he needed.

To be free, throw away any thought, ascend to heaven, or whatever and wherever this place might guide his wrecked soul. He didn't care anymore, for he had nothing to lose.

Because he had lost everything the moment that baldy relieved him from all his monster power. It left him bereft of all the fruits of his effort.

The one which refused to leave him however, was the old man's Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist. The very base of all his fighting styles. The core that supported his cause to attain more power. The first he acquired among his vast array of deadly arsenals.

And the one which still haunted him and left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Final Training Ground? Maybe this is really just a grave for madmen, like me. So, let's see what kind of bullshit it offers."

Garou ambled towards the stair with limping steps. His body creaked with every move he took. Nevertheless, he pressed on to see what kind of thing lay above.

"… And see if that old fart told the truth or just blabbered a tall tale."

He explored the place for a day and found nothing save a run-down building with a dry corpse in it. Maybe the body belonged to a nut, so the Lost Hunter thought.

Nothing was notable from that place. It was indeed a forsaken plot of land which truly belied its name. Maybe Bang really had spewed some foolish story to motivate him when he was still learning the martial art. This place was really barren of any quality which made it notable, let alone legendary.

Just like that bland face of Saitama.

Garou gazed at the distance. The sun was running to its setting place. He wanted to rest, or at least let his body restore itself after that long march. He turned his head to the establishment and frowned.

"No. I'm not in a morgue."

He didn't believe in ghost and stupid supernatural things, but sleeping with a carcass just didn't feel right. He walked down a flight of stair and looked at the pond. Its water cascaded from a stream above it. The crystal clear water pool drew his interest.

"Maybe a night bath and meditation isn't bad."

Thus, the Lost Hunter headed to the waterfall and let the falling stream showered him. He sat like a lotus under it and began to delve into the innermost part of his mind.

At first, he still heard the sound of the water, falling over him and splashed above the rock he was sitting upon. Even he was still able to sense the presence of fish that swam around the bottom of the rock.

He immersed himself deeper and he began to hear nothing. His senses went into a slumber, but his mind stretched out wide, reaching a realm of infinity.

He lost track of how long it had been.

A day.

A week.

A month.

In this place, time did not matter anymore. Or probably time did not rule anymore. A second could be a day, but a year could be a week. Everything flew seamlessly, unrestrained by any boundary.

He passed through a long corridor of his recollection. From the day his eyes caught the sight of that world to the point he reached the decision to take up a fight against the heroes.

For the last time, he saw the plain face of that hero.

But he felt nothing.

At the end of that corridor of memory, he found a blinding light. He stared at a vast blank space. It was large and limitless, only his vision which made an imaginary edge as thin gray horizon.

All of sudden, he sensed a strong pull, drawing him into something he knew nothing about. It was so strong and he had no power to resist it. His vision warped into darkness and everything turned black.

The dragging force at long last ceased. He was in a pitch black place.

However, he gradually could feel his hearing return. Faintly, he heard some voices. Soft and slow, but it seemed like a conversation.

Light afterwards filled his vision again. Everything he saw was blurry, but he managed to make out the outlines of several objects his eyes could catch. However, they were not the waterfall he sat upon and its surroundings.

They were…

'A woman and a man? Giants…!? Who are - What!?'

Panic rushed over his body as he tried to stretch his arms. There, instead of his arms he used to forge through his bloody training, what he found were a pair of stubby limbs with matching, sickeningly delicate hands. His muscles even failed to respond to his command properly.

'What the hell is this crap!?'

Both the man and woman conversed in a talk he couldn't understand at all, obscured by the limit his hearing could afford. They smiled, radiating solemn joy as they stared at him with a hopeful gaze. He opened his mouth, but his tongue suddenly felt an exhausting strain that shocked him.

A realization finally came to him after he put every piece of his circumstance together.

'So I was reborn. Damn…'

And the pair kept staring at him with that gaze he didn't like at all.

Been a while ain't it? Well, I'm back! and I'm really happy to be back :)

Real good news in all honesty. I PASSED! happy me. My finals has been finished and I'm now off to my final year in college. An exam will come, basically a completion or some shiz that's what I recall, but anyhow, enough of that!

I thank all of you really that has been with me throughout the couple of years I have been on this site and to those that just got to know me now? Hi there! I'm basically the writer of A Demonic Dragon Incarnate (my first ever fanfic on this site) and A Lone Wolf in a Cubs Body (my second fic that's basically cloverhead's reimagination of his) and I hope you all will enjoy the ride as well!

This story by the way wouldn't have been what it is now without the help of Zhouji-san or Zhoujianto12, if you guys and gals don't know him yet, he's an OG writer here as far as I'm concerned. Someone that I look up to as well, especially when I at times lose interest in writing. His stories always makes me think otherwise and continue forward... SO! I highly suggest ya'll to take a look at his works, I'm certain you'll like it as much as I have.

In any case, the following chapter is just being re-written atm, so heads up on that!

And oh, a word from the man himself:

Yo. Zhoujianto12 here. ;-)
Dear readers out there, we, Digu & me, hope you like our story. The result of our discussions over rain and drought hopefully can satisfy you.