Suddenly, the air inside the facility felt abruptly heavier, as if gravity had just been doubled by an invisible hand.
The atmosphere that had been filled with the buzz of enthusiasm, anticipation for a heroic lesson, and the scent of youthful pride was now replaced by a chilling, oppressive dread.
The smell of burning ozone mixed with the stench of rusted metal and wet earth wafted from the central plaza.
In the center of the plaza, a swirling dark purple mist spun like a giant whirlpool in a dark ocean, continuously spewing out dozens of people with appearances, mutations, and auras that screamed one word loud and clear: evil.
"Retreat! Take cover behind us," Shota Aizawa's voice cut through the frozen silence.
His tone was low, not a shout, yet his authority was absolute, slicing the air like a blade. Aizawa's body dropped lower, centering his gravity in a perfect combat stance. His right hand moved swiftly, pulling his yellow protective goggles down over his eyes.
"They are real villains. We didn't predict this," he continued, eyes narrowing as he stared sharply at the sea of enemies.
Beside him, Thirteen did the same. He spread his arms, thick astronaut suit sleeves slightly stiff yet full of resolve, creating a physical barricade between his students and the danger below.
Hearing the words real villains leave their teacher's lips, the illusion of safety that had wrapped around Class 1-A shattered like a mirror smashed by a sledgehammer. Horror was a dark wine that intoxicated, and they were forced to drink it to the last drop. Panic spread like wildfire through dry grass.
Their breaths came fast—hosh-hosh—chests rising and falling in erratic rhythm. Eyes widened, reflecting pure terror as they stared at the horde below.
Even Katsuki Bakugo, the boy who never showed weakness and always stood with arrogant pride, froze for a split second. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles at his temples bulged, and a single bead of cold sweat slid slowly from his temple down his pale cheek.
"Thirteen, start the evacuation procedure right now! And try to contact the school!" Aizawa ordered firmly, shoulders tense. He didn't glance back; his entire being was locked onto the battlefield below. "These villains know how to disable the sensors!"
Aizawa shifted his foot slightly, ready to launch. "There's likely an electric-wave-type villain who's jammed them!" he added, voice thick with tactical calculation.
At that moment, Aizawa's head turned slightly over his shoulder, eyes locking sharply on Denki Kaminari. "You too, Kaminari! Try reaching U.A. with your Quirk! Use every volt you've got to find a signal!"
Hearing the order, Kaminari jolted in surprise, shoulders shooting up as he stumbled back a step. He felt the weight of the world suddenly crash onto his still-fragile shoulders. His hand fumbled for the communicator in his ear. "A-Ah! O-Okay, Sensei!" His voice shook violently.
At the peak of this tension, Izuku Midoriya couldn't stop his legs. Instinct drove him forward; he took two steps before halting. His fists clenched tight in front of his chest, knuckles white from the pressure.
"Sensei!?" Midoriya cried, voice cracking with despair and deep-rooted worry. "Are you really going to fight them alone!?"
Midoriya stared at Aizawa's back, which looked so small against the ocean of villains below. "Even if you erase all their Quirks, there are way too many of them!!" he continued, breathing ragged. His analytical mind spun at full speed, calculating probabilities that all ended in death.
"Eraserhead's fighting style is capturing villains after erasing their Quirks—working from the shadows, one-on-one!" Midoriya pressed on, fingers trembling. "A head-on frontal battle against dozens at once… that's too reckless!" His voice gradually grew quieter, as if he were already reading his teacher's eulogy.
Aizawa stayed silent for a moment. The wind inside the facility tugged at his long white scarf, making it flutter like a funeral ribbon. Aizawa sighed, glancing briefly at Midoriya—his gaze sharp, deep, and eerily calm.
Seeing that look, Midoriya swallowed hard, throat moving with difficulty. The sweat on his forehead felt like ice.
Aizawa glanced back at the villains. Slowly, his dry lips moved. "A hero… always has more than one backup trick!"
"Thirteen, I'm leaving the kids to you!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the muscles in Aizawa's legs exploded with power. He leaped down.
On the other side, Fuse Yasushi stood at the very front line, eyes observing every second of the emotional exchange. He stood tall, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his futuristic armored pants.
What a beautiful drama, Fuse muttered inside the ocean of his mind.
His glowing red eyes swept the area, capturing every detail of his friends' suffering. He saw Midoriya's deathly pale face, Uraraka's body trembling like a leaf in a storm, and Iida frozen with mouth agape, eyelids barely blinking.
Ah, seeing these classic extra reactions is really amusing, Fuse thought, savoring the symphony of fear around him. But… this pure panic, mixed with the rotting stench of real fear of death in the air… I have to admit, it's incredibly realistic.
He inhaled deeply, letting the scent of adrenaline pouring from his friends fill his senses.
Even though I've watched this exact scene on my computer screen, experiencing it live under this ceiling is truly amazing. The emotions, the sounds, the smells… everything feels so alive. I'll treasure this beautiful moment, frame it in my memory for when I'm sitting on the throne as the Number One Hero.
Fuse nodded in satisfaction at the thought. He closed his eyes for a moment, the corners of his lips beginning to curl into a smirk.
Moments later, he opened them again and scanned his surroundings.
Suddenly Fuse narrowed his eyes. Wait a second. It would be extremely weird—even creepy—if I smiled smugly in the middle of a situation where death is staring us down. If I look too calm, or worse, happy to see the villains appear, they might think I'm a traitor, a spy, or a cold-blooded sociopath. My flawless image as the wise, heroic Class Representative would crumble in seconds!
At that moment, with the facial muscle control he had trained so hard, Fuse forced his jaw to tighten. He pressed down the corners of his mouth, erasing the smile completely. He made his eyebrows furrow slightly, creating a small crease on his forehead, perfectly mimicking a tense and vigilant expression.
It was a flawless mask of worry—a masterpiece of acting!
Feeling he had successfully fixed his face, he turned to the side.
There, just one step away, Fumikage Tokoyami stood frozen. Tokoyami gaped at him. The red eyes behind black feathers were wide open, staring straight at him, beak slightly parted. He was completely silent, unmoving, not uttering a single word.
Fuse's heartbeat stopped for one full beat. He blinked rapidly several times, then whipped his head 180 degrees forward at a speed that could snap a normal neck.
Shit! Damn it! Damn it! he cursed inwardly, brain racing at light speed. Did that crow see me just now?! How long has he been staring?! Did he catch my smile?! I have to interrogate him later! I'll bribe him! Hush money!
Fuse swallowed hard, gaze locked straight ahead, pretending nothing had happened.
Right. Ice cream should be enough, Fuse nodded slowly to himself. One bucket of chocolate ice cream. No—two buckets. No dark-hearted hero can hate ice cream. Problem solved.
At that moment, Minoru Mineta suddenly screamed hysterically. The shriek was high-pitched and ear-splitting, like a small animal whose leg was caught in a steel trap.
Fuse turned and stared at him in silence. Mineta's face was covered in tears, snot, and sweat.
"How is this possible?!" Mineta yanked desperately at the sticky purple balls on his head with both hands. His body shook violently, legs crossed to hold back terror. "We haven't even been at this school for a full month and now we're facing real villains! They're going to kill us! Mutilate us! This wasn't in the enrollment brochure! Damn! Damn! Damn! This is my cursed day! I'll die before I even get to touch—"
"Shut up, you damn midget!" Katsuki Bakugo suddenly whipped around and roared, voice booming from the pit of his stomach and drowning out Mineta's pathetic whimpers.
Both of Bakugo's hands clenched at his sides. Tiny sparks popped in his palms—crackle-crackle-crackle—triggered by overflowing stress and rage. Veins bulged like steel cables along his neck. "You're in the hero course, so act like it and stop crying like a bed-wetting baby!"
At that moment, Bakugo—eyes blazing—noticed Fuse watching him from the corner of his eye. Bakugo snorted loudly, clicked his tongue in pure disgust, then immediately turned away, glaring toward the exit. He refused to look at that arrogant face.
"You never act like a hero either, you crazy psychopath!" Mineta shot back through sobs, voice hoarse. Tears and snot streamed down his face, making him look even more pitiful.
"Everyone, calm down!" Thirteen cut in, spreading his arms wider, voice straining to overpower the chaos. "We'll handle this. You don't need to fight. Focus on taking shelter, stay together, and head straight for the exit! Your safety comes first!"
"Right! Thirteen-sensei is correct!" Iida shouted. He chopped the air sharply with his silver-armored arm, body rigid. "This is not the time for insults or arguments! We must move in orderly fashion! Evacuate!"
Iida then turned roughly, eyes piercing through his glasses and locking directly onto Fuse, who stood motionless like a marble statue instead of leading the evacuation.
Fuse naturally noticed Iida's judgmental stare. Logically, he knew as Class Representative he should be organizing them. But his pride refused to let him flee like a rat. He couldn't stop a soft snort, muffled behind the high collar of his armored jacket.
Yeah, yeah, run along, all of you. Better hide, sweet kids, Fuse thought arrogantly, chin lifting slightly. Crawl under your blankets. Let the real professionals work… namely me.
Fuse's gaze dropped again, locking onto the plaza center below.
From behind the crowd of low-tier villains who looked like street thugs, a central figure stepped forward, parting the mob like a prophet parting the sea. Tomura Shigaraki.
The young man was skeletal, shoulders hunched in an unnatural, unhealthy posture. His face, head, neck, shoulders, and both arms were covered in pale, severed human hands, as if they had grown from his own flesh and gripped him in a deathly embrace.
Shigaraki spread his hands wide in a theatrical pose. His mouth, hidden behind the hand on his face, moved—probably muttering about destroying All Might and how filthy the world was.
Seeing it, Fuse rolled his eyes. Ugh… his style is so dramatically edgy it makes me want to vomit my breakfast. He really looks like a lunatic who escaped the mental hospital. Well, he is crazy and needs high-dose skin moisturizer plus decades of intensive therapy.
Behind Fuse, Iida and the others had already begun rushing toward the exit dozens of meters away. Their footsteps thundered across the concrete. Iida, positioned at the rear to make sure everyone moved, glanced back slightly.
Iida's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't expected Fuse to remain standing tall, facing the enemy while everyone else had turned their backs!
"Hey, Class Rep! What are you—?!" Iida shouted in panic, steps halting as he froze, unsure whether to run back and drag Fuse or keep going.
Fuse ignored Iida's cry. His mind had already made an absolute decision. It was time to seize the stage. For him, this disaster was a golden stepping stone—an extraordinary chance fate had handed him to shine brighter than anyone.
A second chance at such an epic debut might not come for a long time in the story arc. Therefore, he wanted to do something that would truly grab the universe's camera attention!
Besides, his ego screamed at the thought of letting Aizawa steal all the battle spotlight.
Fuse widened his stance, planting his boots firmly. He stretched his right arm straight forward, palm open. His eyes glowed red, pupils shrinking in focus. He prepared to activate his magnetic field, intending to crush, bend, and smash every rusted metal weapon below into one giant iron ball.
But the instant his arm muscles tensed and the electrical signal from his brain commanded his Quirk to activate…
A razor-sharp pain like microscopic lightning exploded from his fingertips. It shot through his forearm, tearing through veins, and slammed into his shoulder joint like a red-hot nail.
His muscles screamed in unbearable biological protest. It felt as if thousands of tiny needles and glass shards were being driven into his flesh at once. His right hand shook violently, a tremor he couldn't stop, making the armor plating on his arm rattle softly.
Fuse gritted his teeth hard, jaw locked in pain. He held his breath, swallowing the groan so it wouldn't escape and reach his friends behind him.
Shit! he cursed inwardly, eyes squeezing shut for a moment against the torment. What the hell is this?! Seriously, is this from that insane training session?! I knew I pushed past my limits and would pay the price, but… I really thought the pain would disappear after a good night's sleep and lunch. Turns out this fan-body of mine is still suffering from an extreme fatigue debuff that's gnawing all the way to the cells!
He drew a long, shaky breath, forcing oxygen to his brain and desperately trying to steady his trembling hand.
This is bad. My muscles are torn at the microscopic level. I'm nowhere near 100%. Not even 50%. I guess… even the most overpowered main character needs occasional physical hurdles to make the plot more dramatic and interesting.
Below, the battle had erupted. Aizawa charged straight into the sea of villains.
Aizawa's white binding scarf shot forward, alive like a pair of giant snakes. It wrapped around necks, yanked enemies off balance, and slammed their bodies onto the concrete with loud BRUK! sounds and stunning efficiency. The Quirk-erasing hero danced among his foes, legs sweeping the air, fists hammering jaws. He crushed the low-tier villains mercilessly, proving an underground hero was a demon in close combat.
Watching the deadly display, Fuse couldn't help clicking his tongue, bitter disappointment filling his mouth. With my body this wrecked, today clearly isn't my main stage.
He lowered his head and sighed in resignation. Fuse turned slowly, ready to follow Iida and flee to safety with the rest of the supporting cast. He took a few steps, boots creaking on the floor.
But… on the third step, he stopped dead. But… running away without leaving a single trace? That's not my style.
He spun back toward the plaza. Eyes narrowing, he focused his gaze across the distance, locking directly onto the main boss: Tomura Shigaraki!
If I can't crush them all… at least let me do this. One unforgettable farewell greeting.
At that moment, the two metal mecha wings on his back vibrated and detached from their mounts. The blades floated to his left and right, then began folding, shifting, and reassembling with precise mechanical clicks. Clack-clack-clack.
In seconds the pieces formed two deadly long-barreled structures. Two futuristic sniper rifles now hovered at his sides!
The air around the barrels distorted, crackling with accumulating electromagnetic energy.
Fuse raised his right hand, ignoring the burning pain in his muscles. He curled three fingers inward, leaving thumb and index finger straight in a pistol pose. He closed one eye, staring sharply at Shigaraki as if sighting through an imaginary scope.
From the compartment pocket of his armor, two metal coins floated out and slid into the hovering rifle barrels.
Then the corner of Fuse's mouth twitched upward into a wide, wild, provocative grin.
In a voice so soft only he could hear, he whispered.
Bang.
His thumb snapped down. ZZZT-DHUUUAR!!!
Instantly, from the muzzles of the two floating rifles came an electromagnetic energy blast. The first coin rocketed out at a speed that shattered the sound barrier, following true railgun principles. A reddish-orange streak of light ripped across the USJ plaza, leaving a scorching trail.
For Fuse, unlike large-scale magnetic control that required precise manipulation of thousands of objects, firing a railgun with a single small object wasn't too difficult and didn't drain massive mental energy.
Moreover, ever since discovering his power, he had trained this exact railgun technique thousands of times on beaches and rooftops, copying references from Misaka Mikoto. Shooting coins at hypersonic speed felt as natural as breathing!
In the blink of an eye, the first coin—traveling at the most lethal velocity—reached its target. It didn't aim for chest or head. It struck exactly the main hand accessory covering Tomura Shigaraki's face.
KLANG!
The impact was brutal. The coin's kinetic energy shattered the artificial hand's grip, sending it flying off into the air and tumbling across the ground.
The second coin, fired a split second later at significantly reduced speed, followed the same path.
TAK!
It struck Shigaraki's now-exposed forehead.
Hit by the sudden physical blow, Shigaraki's head snapped backward from the momentum. The pale-blue-haired young man staggered, skinny body losing balance, before he hunched over, hand clutching his face.
Of course Fuse had calculated everything. He had deliberately lowered the electromagnetic output on the second coin so its speed wasn't lethal. If he hadn't held back, the second coin would have punched straight through Shigaraki's skull and exploded his brain into pieces—the villain boss would have died instantly!
As a prospective hero and protagonist who still had to follow the story's age rating, he naturally didn't want unnecessary death on his hands!
Capturing Shigaraki alive after a direct confrontation was the ideal goal. It should have been.
But after seeing that edgy figure in person—standing arrogantly and ordering his pawns—Fuse couldn't resist the burning urge to do something extremely annoying.
He wanted to ruin that cool boss image. He wanted to watch Tomura Shigaraki lose his mind and explode in rage!
In the plaza, silence fell.
Shigaraki stood hunched. His forehead was red from the impact, thin smoke smelling of burnt metal rising from the grazed skin. Suddenly the young man began scratching his neck—fast, rough, panicked. He felt unbearably exposed, as if stripped naked in public after losing the main hand on his face.
"Father… where's Father…" Shigaraki muttered in panic, eyes bulging wildly at the ground.
With trembling hands covering half his face, he crouched and groped desperately across the dirt, searching for the hand accessory.
Finding it lying nearby, Shigaraki snatched it and pressed it back onto his face. His ragged breathing gradually slowed. Once the pale fingers covered his face again, his posture returned to calm.
At that moment Shigaraki suddenly stood straight. He twisted his neck, turned, and looked straight up toward the upper balcony where Fuse stood.
His gaze pierced the distance. Red eyes peeking between the fingers on his face widened until the veins showed. The stare was pure hatred!
"Kurogiri…" Shigaraki's voice was hoarse and heavy, thick with murderous intent. His free hand moved, picking up Fuse's still-hot coin that had fallen near his feet. With just the touch of all five fingers, the solid metal coin crumbled into rusty dust.
That was Decay!
"Catch the white-armored trash up there," Shigaraki ordered, pointing at Fuse with his peeled index finger. "Bring him to me. I… will kill him with my own hands! I'll turn him into dust bit by bit!"
Beside Shigaraki, the shadowy mist figure Kurogiri bowed respectfully. His glowing yellow eyes glanced at Fuse for a moment. "As you command, Tomura Shigaraki."
In the blink of an eye, Kurogiri's misty form flattened, expanded, and vanished, merging into the darkness of the floor.
Seeing Shigaraki's rage-filled reaction, Fuse couldn't hold back. He laughed softly, the smug smile blooming on his face again. Mission to make the enemy boss throw a tantrum: Completed with S-rank.
He then turned sharply with elegant steps, intending to run after his friends toward the safe exit.
But after only a few strides to build momentum… his steps halted abruptly.
Fuse froze. The smug smile vanished instantly, replaced by pure shock. His eyes trembled as he stared ahead.
There, dozens of meters in front of him, exactly blocking the giant golden exit doors, thick dark purple mist suddenly erupted from the floor. The mist expanded, spinning rapidly, growing into a towering black smoke storm that reached the ceiling above Class 1-A.
It had cut off their escape route!
Fuse gritted his teeth. I thought Kurogiri would blindly follow Shigaraki's angry order and teleport straight to me to catch and strangle me personally, not block the entire 1-A group's path! These villains actually have strategic brains that can separate the boss's emotions from the main mission!
"Damn!" Fuse shouted, voice cracking with rising panic. He sprinted toward his friends with all his remaining strength, ignoring the fresh ache stabbing his thighs. "Stay away from that mist!"
At the same time, near the blocked exit, Katsuki Bakugo and Eijiro Kirishima couldn't stay idle. Bakugo's wild, aggressive instincts overrode his sanity. Both hands had been sparking nonstop. He was itching for this fight!
"Don't underestimate us, villains! Die, you damn smoke!" Bakugo charged forward at full speed, propelling himself with explosions from his palms.
Kirishima followed right behind, skin hardening into jagged rock, ready to punch anything in his path.
"Wait! Stop! Don't go, you two! You don't know his Quirk!" Thirteen shouted desperately from behind, hand outstretched, but the warning came too late.
BHOOOOOOM!!!
Bakugo and Kirishima attacked together. Bakugo's massive explosion slammed directly into the black mist. Red and yellow flames detonated, creating a deafening roar and blinding hot smoke. The floor shook from the impact.
Yet as the leftover smoke slowly cleared… Kurogiri remained completely unharmed, not even scratched. His mist only rippled briefly before reforming solidly.
"Excellent teamwork—very reactive and fast," Kurogiri's deep, polite voice echoed from every direction, reverberating from inside the mist itself. "But… pointless. Physical attacks won't work."
Long glowing yellow eyes appeared in the center of the mist. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. We are the League of Villains. We have rudely entered this institution… solely to end All Might's life."
Fuse, now closer to his group of friends, stopped running. His feet slipped slightly on the marble. He knew this was the critical moment. If the mist swallowed them, the situation would turn catastrophic.
He pushed past his exhaustion limit. Despite the excruciating pain throbbing in his arm like thousands of needles, his eyes glowed bright red again. His magnetic perception forcibly expanded, scanning the area ahead like sonar.
His mind pierced the visual mist and searched atomic composition. And there, at the untouched core of the mist…
He felt it. Metal objects. An iron support frame, a hidden neck-guard plate deep inside Kurogiri's physical costume!
Got you, Fuse hissed, sweat pouring down his forehead.
He focused. He wanted to reach that metal neck protector. If he could crush, destroy, or violently yank that restraining iron, he might choke Kurogiri's real body hidden inside the thick mist and instantly cancel the portal!
Fuse thrust both hands forward, fingers rigid. He tried to concentrate his power across the air gap between them.
However…
Suddenly his vision dimmed. The visor on his eyes spun. The dozen meters felt like hundreds of kilometers in his damaged state!
Every time he focused his telekinetic energy, nerves in his head throbbed as if tiny bombs were exploding inside his skull. His sight blurred, doubled, and his head spun violently.
Shit! It hurts so much! My brain feels like it's going to explode! Fuse grumbled, hands dropping limply.
At that moment, a larger surge of thick black mist gushed from Kurogiri's body. The mist spread at terrifying speed, rolling outward like a tsunami swallowing the entrance area.
Seeing the golden chance slip away, Kurogiri seized full control without hesitation!
"My duty is to separate you all," Kurogiri declared, voice now like a death knell. "Scatter you… and torture you until you die."
Panic reached its peak. The students screamed hysterically and scattered in every direction, completely losing formation as they tried to escape the mist.
"Calm down! Everyone stay in formation! Group up! Don't scatter!" Fuse shouted with the last of his lung power, desperately trying to fulfill his Class Representative role.
He spread both arms. He attempted to mentally command his armor wings—still in rifle form—to reassemble into a wide steel wall shield to protect Midoriya, Uraraka, and the others nearby.
"Run!" Iida yelled.
But Fuse's metal wings moved too slowly. Their mechanical response lagged behind his fatigued brain.
Kurogiri's thick mist rolled high like a giant black ocean wave and crashed over them all. The mist had no solid mass, yet when it touched skin it felt ice-cold.
Thick darkness instantly swallowed everyone. Fuse's visor saw nothing but black. No light, no sound, only emptiness.
The sensation of space and time twisted around him, spinning like he had been thrown into a washing machine, making his stomach churn and his head spin violently.
As he fell into the bottomless portal, one thought flashed through his mind.
So ridiculous… a protagonist as great as me… swallowed so easily by a cheap teleportation effect…?!
…
A/N: Sorry for only updating today. As compensation, I wrote quite a long chapter this time… although rather than containing useful information, it's long mostly because of infodumb. So sorry if it's too boring (honestly I felt the same when re-reading this chapter). I was just trying to follow the draft. But this is it… I'll try my best for the next chapter. Anyway, if you guys are too tired of waiting for the next chapter… please check my Patreon, where I update much faster than on this platform! (Now there are already 3 chapters I've updated!)
You can see the next chapter sooner on my patreon whose link is below:
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