Zombieman

A weathered gray trench coat hangs open over Zombieman's black singlet, layered above stitched tan trousers, a heavy brown belt, and sturdy boots, with additional straps wrapped across his torso underneath. His frame is muscular and his skin pale, set off by messy dark hair and red eyes, and a cigarette often dangles from his lips. A stubborn Y-shaped autopsy mark scored his chest until the clash with Homeless Emperor, the lone wound his healing never sealed.

Repeated deaths have left Zombieman withdrawn and nihilistic, lending him a calm yet grim outlook that he rarely explains, since he seldom speaks about his past. He prefers to operate on his own and has little patience for crowds or hero gatherings, though he keeps to basic courtesy and comes across as more reflective than most of his S-Class peers. He is quick to notice death and suffering in others, drops grudges that serve no purpose, and holds a clear soft spot for children, above all Child Emperor, whom he once shielded from Homeless Emperor's beams by taking the blasts himself.

Sharp and analytical, Zombieman reasons like a detective and recognizes when a battle cannot be won. He also owns up to his limits, admitting he is far better suited to stealth and infiltration than to open combat, yet after coming to believe that Saitama had beaten Garou, he asked Dr. Genus to strip away his limiter so that he might grow stronger.

Zombieman stands among the powerful S-Class heroes, although in sheer destructive force he is widely rated one of the weakest of them, and he freely admits combat is not his strength. What sets him apart is his regeneration, some of the most extreme in the series. He bounces back from holes in his skull, shattered arms, beheading, and destroyed organs, needing only seconds for lesser damage and a few minutes to regrow an entire limb. This is not true immortality, however: being reduced to mincemeat would finish him, and he did fall to the cosmic radiation of a possible dark future. That resilience once let him endure roughly two hundred fatal wounds while defeating the vampire Pureblood inside half an hour, and simulations suggest he could weather Carnage Kabuto's full assault for a week straight.

His physical strength, modest for his class, is still enough to bend thick steel bars and pin down his opponents, and he keeps rough pace with foes fast enough to catch bullets. Up close he fights capably with his fists, a pair of machetes, or a Viking-style long-bearded axe, and he handles a range of firearms with skill. His tailored trench coat doubles as an arsenal: a concealed sleeve mechanism feeds him extra guns mid-fight, and he carries pistols such as his signature Desert Eagle, engraved with his test-subject number sixty-six, along with a spare Glock hidden inside his own body. Away from battle, his investigative talent lets him track down targets from the thinnest of leads, a craft he calls his real specialty.