Arthur emerged from the Landslide Zone at a controlled sprint. The central plaza spread before him, and what he saw made his tactical mind immediately recalculate.
Aizawa was still fighting, but the toll was visible. His capture weapon whipped through the air, binding villains, using their own momentum against them. His quirk flashed repeatedly, red eyes erasing powers with surgical precision. But there were too many. For every three he dropped, two more pressed in from different angles.
He's covering too much ground, Arthur analyzed. Fighting defensively when he should be controlling space. He's trying to protect the other zones, keep villains from spreading out. Noble.
A villain with a multiplication quirk split into copies, trying to surround their teacher. Aizawa's scarf caught three, slammed them together, but he had to blink.
In that half-second, a villain with a club-like arm swung at his blind spot.
Arthur's energy blade materialized mid-throw, spinning through the air like a golden disk. It struck the villain's weapon arm, impacting with enough force to deflect the blow. The construct dissipated on contact, having served its purpose.
Aizawa's head snapped toward Arthur's position, red eyes widening fractionally.
"I told you to evacuate!" he shouted, dropping two more villains with practiced efficiency.
"You did," Arthur agreed, manifesting another blade and moving into the plaza proper. "I declined."
"Himura, this isn't training! These people will kill you!"
Arthur reached the first villain, some kind of lizard mutation quirk, and his blade moved in a perfect motion. Pure, refined swordsmanship, each strike exactly where it needed to be.
The villain went down without understanding what had happened.
"They tried," Arthur said calmly, already moving to the next opponent. "In the Landslide Zone. It didn't work out for them."
Two villains charged him together, some attempt at a coordinated attack. Arthur's Instinct read their movements, saw the gaps in their guard, the way they telegraphed their intentions through posture and weight distribution.
Left one will feint high, commit low. Right will try to flank, grab my weapon arm. They've done this before, but against untrained opponents.
He stepped into the left villain's guard, inside his striking range, and delivered a pommel strike to the solar plexus. As the man folded, Arthur pivoted, using the falling body as a screen, and his free hand caught the right villain's wrist mid-grab.
Lightning crackled. Not enough to kill, just enough to overload the nervous system, induce temporary paralysis.
Both down in three seconds.
"How many in the Landslide Zone?" Aizawa asked, fighting back-to-back with Arthur now, their combined presence creating a defensive position the villains had to respect.
"Five. All neutralized, non-lethal force."
"Time?"
"Eight seconds."
Aizawa's capture weapon lashed out, binding three villains simultaneously. "Bullshit."
"I don't lie about combat efficiency."
A villain with enhanced strength quirk, muscles bulging grotesquely, charged at them with a roar. Arthur observed the approach with detached interest. The man was strong, certainly. But strength without technique was just flailing.
"High or low?" Arthur asked.
"Low," Aizawa responded immediately, reading the same tells.
They split. Aizawa went high, scarf wrapping around the villain's neck and face, erasing his quirk and blocking vision. Arthur went low, energy blade passing through both legs at the knees, not cutting but delivering enough kinetic impact to destroy the man's balance.
The villain crashed face-first into concrete.
"You fight like a professional," Aizawa said, and there was something in his voice beyond surprise. Suspicion, maybe. Or recognition. "Where did a fifteen-year-old learn to fight like that?"
"I had a good teacher." Not a lie. Sir Kay had been excellent, even if that teaching had happened in a previous life. "And I've always taken combat seriously."
More villains pressed in, and Arthur found himself falling into a rhythm. Aizawa would erase quirks, control positioning. Arthur would exploit the openings, disable opponents efficiently. They covered each other's blind spots without needing to discuss it, pure tactical synchronization born from competence recognizing competence.
He fights like a knight, Arthur realized, watching his teacher move. Not in technique, but in principle. Protecting others even at cost to himself. Prioritizing civilian safety over personal glory. He understands what it means to serve.
"Why are they here?" Arthur asked between exchanges, genuinely curious. "This attack, it's elaborate. Organized. But the villains themselves are third-rate."
"Noticed that, did you?" Aizawa wrapped two more attackers, slammed them together. "They're cannon fodder. Distractions. The real threats are the ones who aren't fighting."
Arthur's eyes tracked to the plaza's center, where Shigaraki stood watching, still scratching his neck, the massive figure looming beside him like a patient monster.
"The one with hands covering his body," Arthur said. "He's in charge." "And that thing next to him, we don't know what it is. But my instincts are screaming."
Arthur's Instinct was doing the same. The being radiated wrongness, power that felt artificial, manufactured. Like someone had taken the concept of strength and forced it into flesh without regard for natural limits.
"They're waiting," Arthur said. "For All Might."
"Yeah. Which means we need to hold until reinforcements arrive. Iida got through. Help is coming."
"How long?"
"Five minutes, maybe less. Can you last that long?"
Arthur manifested two energy blades now, one in each hand, letting Royal Core flood his system with power. His body was still young, still developing, but the core itself was ancient, vast, a wellspring of energy that could sustain him for hours if managed properly.
"I've lasted longer against worse odds," he said quietly, memories of Camlann flickering through his mind. The final battle, when he'd stood alone against Mordred's army, when his knights lay dead and Camelot burned behind him.
He'd lasted hours then, fighting until his body gave out, until Excalibur drank deep of his life to fuel its final strike.
Five minutes was nothing.
"Confident," Aizawa observed.
"Experienced."
They fought, and the villains kept coming, and Arthur found himself almost disappointed by how easy it was. These criminals, they fought without discipline, without tactics beyond simple aggression. They relied on quirks to carry them, never learned actual combat fundamentals.
This is what happens, he thought, disabling another attacker with precision, when power is given without requiring responsibility. They think their quirks make them strong, never realizing that true strength is more than just ability.
A villain with fire breath tried to immolate him. Arthur raised a hand, and lightning met flame, the electrical current ionizing the fire's path, redirecting it away. His other blade struck before the villain could process what happened.
"Behind!" Aizawa called.
Arthur spun, Instinct already mapping the attack. Three villains, coordinated assault, trying to overwhelm through numbers.
His blades moved in a pattern Lancelot had taught him, centuries ago, a defensive form that became offense through pure momentum. The energy constructs hummed through the air, and all three attackers dropped without landing a single blow.
"This is boring," Shigaraki's voice carried across the plaza, petulant and irritated. "You're boring. Where's All Might? Where's the Symbol of Peace? I want to kill him, not watch Eraser Head play with trash."
Arthur met the villain's eyes, those red orbs visible through the hand covering his face.
"If you want All Might," Arthur called back, his voice carrying that weight of command, of someone used to addressing armies, "then you're welcome to try going through us first."
Shigaraki tilted his head, like a curious bird examining something unusual.
"Oh?" The villain's tone changed, became interested. "You're different from the others. You're not scared. Why aren't you scared?"
"Should I be?"
"You're surrounded by villains who want to kill you. Your teacher is exhausted. Your classmates are scattered, fighting for their lives. And you're standing there like you've already won." Shigaraki scratched his neck harder. "That's not normal. Heroes are supposed to be afraid, supposed to struggle. That's what makes their victories meaningful."
Arthur considered this, deflecting another attack almost absently, not even looking at the villain he'd just disabled.
"Fear is a tool," he said. "It warns you of danger, prepares your body for combat. But being controlled by fear makes you predictable. You fight reactively instead of strategically."
"Strategy." Shigaraki laughed, the sound unhinged. "You sound like a soldier, not a hero. Heroes don't think about strategy. They think about saving people, about justice, about smiling and pretending everything will be okay."
"Then perhaps," Arthur replied, manifesting another blade to replace one he'd dismissed, "I'm not a hero yet. Just someone with power trying to use it responsibly."
That seemed to genuinely interest the villain. He stopped scratching, tilted his head further.
"Power used responsibly. How boring. How limited. How... heroic." The word was spat like a curse. "That's why All Might needs to die. He's made everyone think power should be controlled, contained, used carefully. But power wants to be free. Power wants to destroy."
"Power wants nothing," Arthur said. "It's neutral. A tool. What matters is the person wielding it."
"Such wisdom from a child," Kurogiri's smooth voice interjected, the mist villain having materialized near Shigaraki. "Perhaps you should have been a philosopher instead of a hero."
"Philosophy and heroism aren't mutually exclusive."
"In this world, they are," Shigaraki said, and his voice went flat, dead. "In this world, heroes are brands. Products. They smile and pose and pretend to care while people suffer. All Might is the biggest lie of all, making everyone think One Person can save everyone, can change everything."
Arthur felt something shift in his understanding. This wasn't just villainy for its own sake. This was ideology, twisted and broken, but ideology nonetheless.
"You're right," he said, and both villains paused. "One person can't save everyone. Heroes shouldn't be brands. The system is flawed, prioritizes spectacle over substance."
"Then why fight us?" Shigaraki asked, genuinely curious now.
"Because you're not trying to fix the system. You're trying to destroy it and everyone in it. That's not revolution. That's just murder."
"Maybe murder is what this world needs!"
The Nomu moved.
It was the first time the creature had acted, and Arthur's Instinct screamed warnings across every nerve ending. The thing blurred, speed that should have been impossible for something that large, and suddenly it was on Aizawa, massive fist drawn back.
Arthur moved on pure reflex, Royal Core flooding his body with power, energy blade manifesting between his teacher and the attack.
The Nomu's fist hit the blade.
The shockwave was enormous, cratering the concrete, sending debris flying. Arthur's arms went numb from impact, his entire body absorbing force that should have killed him. The energy blade held for exactly half a second before shattering.
Then Arthur was flying, the kinetic energy launching him backward, tumbling across concrete until he crashed into a wall.
Strong, his stunned mind processed. Impossibly strong.
"Himura!" Aizawa shouted, trying to reach him, but more villains pressed in, capitalizing on the opening.
Arthur forced himself to his feet, ribs screaming protest, arm possibly fractured. Royal Core was already working, flooding damaged tissue with healing energy, but it was slow. His body was still young, still developing. It couldn't handle that level of impact.
The Nomu looked at him, and Arthur saw nothing in those eyes. No intelligence, no personality. Just programmed aggression.
"See?" Shigaraki's voice was gleeful now. "This is what real power looks like! Nomu was made to kill All Might! Your little light show can't stop it!"
Arthur manifested another blade, ignoring the pain. The Nomu began moving toward him again, and he realized with cold clarity that he couldn't win this fight. Not yet. Not at his current level.
I need more power, he thought desperately. All he had was Royal Core, his skill, and five hundred years of combat experience telling him that sometimes, survival was victory enough.
The Nomu charged.
Arthur raised his blade.
And then, from the entrance, a voice boomed across the USJ like thunder.
"I AM HERE!"
All Might crashed through the entrance doors, and even injured, even afraid, Arthur felt something in his chest respond to that presence.
The Symbol of Peace, he realized. This is what he wants to kill. This is what stands between order and chaos.
The number one hero looked across the plaza, saw Aizawa surrounded, saw Arthur facing the Nomu, and saw students scattered and fighting.
And his smile never wavered.
"Everyone," All Might's voice carried perfect confidence, perfect assurance, "it's okay. Because I am here."
Arthur had never believed words more in his life.
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