.The U.A. training grounds had never been this quiet.
Rain whispered against the glass roof, distant thunder rumbling like a warning.
All Might stood tall — not in his prime, but still radiating the same unshakable aura that once inspired the world.
Beside him, Midoriya clenched his fists, green sparks crawling faintly around his arm. Bakugo crossed his arms, eyes sharp, restless.
They were waiting.
The Hero Commission had called this meeting, but the man they were to meet wasn't a hero
The metal door hissed open.
Footsteps — slow, deliberate.
A figure stepped inside, clad in a matte-black cloak that shimmered faintly when he moved.
Mask covering his lower face, violet lenses glowing faintly under the dim light.
The air shifted.
Even Bakugo felt it — that presence. Calm. Calculated. Dangerous.
Ren stopped a few steps away and tilted his head slightly.
"All Might. Midoriya. Bakugo."
His voice was smooth — not mocking, not aggressive — just knowing.
Bakugo scowled instantly. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
Ren's gaze flicked to him. "You'll call me Mastermind. For now."
Midoriya blinked. "Mastermind… you're the one they've been talking about. The one who—"
"—rewrote Tartarus' feed. Yes." Ren's tone was almost casual. "The escape signal, the false data. A simple test."
Bakugo stepped forward, sparks snapping from his palm. "A test? You messed with the heroes' systems just to play hacker?"
Ren looked at him — not angry, not defensive — just analyzing.
"Not hacker. Strategist. Information is power, Bakugo. Heroes chase villains. I make them chase ghosts."
Midoriya frowned. "You talk like you know us…"
Ren's eyes softened behind the lenses. "Because I do. I know everything — your Quirks, your limits, your teachers, your weaknesses. I know the battles you'll win before you fight them… and the ones you'll lose before you even see them coming."
All Might's hand flexed slightly. His voice was calm, deep.
"Then tell me this, young man — what are you?"
Ren stepped closer, shadows curling around his cloak.
"I'm the observer who got tired of watching. The man who used to dream of heroes until he learned how fragile they really are."
Midoriya's eyes widened. "You talk like you're not from here…"
For the first time, Ren smiled faintly behind the mask. "Smart, Midoriya. You always were. But that answer… would break the world if I told you."
Bakugo's explosions flared. "You think you can walk in here and act like some cryptic god?"
Ren's gaze met his, unwavering.
"No. Gods demand worship. I only demand recognition."
He lifted his hand slightly — ten sleek metallic claws glinting under the light.
"Remember this name."
He took a step back, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried across the hall:
> "Mastermind. The villain who knows everything — including how the story ends."
Lightning flashed outside — and when the light faded, Ren was gone.
Silence.
Midoriya exhaled shakily. "He… vanished. Like he never existed."
All Might's expression hardened, jaw tightening.
"Midoriya. Bakugo. Tell Nezu and Aizawa to reinforce the surveillance grid. Whoever he is… this isn't a random villain."
Bakugo snarled. "I'll blast him myself."
All Might didn't respond immediately.
He looked out the window — where lightning danced again in the distance — and whispered, almost to himself:
> "No… he's not just a villain. He's a storm coming for all of us."
Rain tapped softly against the glass as silence swallowed the training hall.
All Might stepped forward, cape brushing the floor where Ren had stood only seconds ago.
Midoriya noticed something first — a faint shimmer on the table near the exit.
A black envelope, sealed with a silver "M."
He picked it up carefully. The paper was heavy, expensive — deliberate.
Bakugo frowned. "What's that? His love letter?"
Midoriya ignored him and handed it to All Might. "He left this…"
All Might unfolded the letter. The ink was precise, machine-perfect.
No name. No signature. Only a few haunting lines.
---
> **"When the moon bleeds and the storm sleeps,
The caged king will find his breath.
The pawns will march through rust and ash,
And heroes will mistake dawn for death.
You have seven days before the black sun rises."**
— M
---
The words hung in the air like a curse.
Bakugo snorted. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
The Hero Commission headquarters was dead silent.
Rows of monitors glowed with red warnings, rain streaking down the glass outside. The letter — Ren's riddle — was displayed in the center of the table.
> "When the moon bleeds and the storm sleeps,
The caged king will find his breath.
The pawns will march through rust and ash,
And heroes will mistake dawn for death.
You have seven days before the black sun rises."
The Director of the Commission slammed his hand on the table.
"This isn't a threat—it's a timer! We need to know what he's talking about!"
Hawks leaned against the wall, wings folded, eyes scanning the words again and again.
"Moon bleeds... could mean a lunar eclipse. There's one due in eight days. The 'storm sleeps'… maybe after that Typhoon warning clears up. So he's using natural events as his timestamps."
Edgeshot nodded. "The 'caged king' must refer to All For One. Tartarus Prison still lists him as contained."
Nezu sat calmly at the end of the table, paws folded, eyes gleaming.
"Contained, yes… but the letter suggests a breach. If he's warning us, he either wants us to panic, or he wants us to look away from the real event."
Hawks frowned. "So he could be lying about the timing?"
Nezu shook his head. "No. Not lying. He's far too deliberate for that. But the 'seven days'… may not mean seven days. It could mean seven moves."
The room went silent.
The Director blinked. "Moves?"
Nezu's tail twitched. "Think like him. 'Mastermind'… a chess player. He speaks in structure. The moon, the storm, the cage, the pawns, the dawn, the sun, the black rise — seven metaphors. Seven actions. Seven stages."
Hawks crossed his arms. "So we're on a clock, but not a real one."
Edgeshot leaned closer to the screen. "The 'pawns will march through rust and ash'… that sounds like a place. Maybe an abandoned district or factory?"
Hawks nodded slowly. "There's an old steel plant near Yokohama — closed after the Kamino incident. It's all rust and ash now. Villains have been spotted nearby."
Nezu's eyes narrowed. "Interesting. The 'pawns' could refer to the League's lower ranks. They move first, before the 'king' breathes."
All Might entered quietly, listening from behind.
"Then that means the League will make a move before the real breakout. They'll cause chaos to distract us."
The Director sighed. "We can't defend every city at once."
Nezu smiled faintly. "That's what he's counting on. He wants us divided."
Hawks flicked one feather-blade loose. "So what's the plan? Wait for him?"
Nezu's small claws tapped on the table, thoughtful.
"No. We watch. Mastermind doesn't move randomly. If he told us the moon would bleed, then it's because he wants us to look at the sky… not the ground."
Edgeshot raised an eyebrow. "So while we're scanning for lunar activity, he'll strike somewhere we can't see?"
Nezu nodded slowly.
"And when that happens… the black sun will rise."
The monitor behind them flickered — static for just a moment — and a small line of text appeared in the corner.
> [Observation Confirmed.]
Everyone froze.
Hawks' voice dropped. "Did anyone access that system?"
Nezu stared at the flickering message. A small smile curved across his lips.
"No… but it seems he's watching us solve his puzzle."
The room was tense — the air so thick even the hum of the monitors felt loud.
Nezu's eyes scanned the holographic riddle again and again. Hawks paced near the window, wings twitching with impatience.
Then, all at once—
"KRRSHH—"
Every speaker in the control room screeched.
The lights flickered.
The holographic screens glitched into static.
Edgeshot tensed instantly, fingers curling into strike position.
Hawks drew two feathers, scanning for movement.
The static hissed… then a calm, familiar voice poured out, distorted but unmistakably composed.
> "How's it going, my dear pieces of the game?"
The voice echoed through every speaker, smooth and confident, like someone speaking from right behind them.
> "Solved the riddle yet… or are you still chasing metaphors?"
Nezu didn't move. His eyes narrowed, ears twitching to locate the feed source.
Hawks muttered, "He's in our system. How? These lines are isolated!"
Ren chuckled softly through the comms.
> "You really think walls of code can stop a mind that sees every pattern you leave open? You might as well hide a flame behind glass and call it safe."
All Might stepped forward, his voice calm but firm.
"Mastermind. What do you want?"
> "Want?" A faint laugh, deep and sharp. "That word assumes I'm taking something. I'm giving you a gift, All Might. A chance to think before you fight."
Hawks' feathers trembled, anger creeping into his tone.
"You think you can just break in and talk like this is a game?"
> "It is a game," Ren replied smoothly. "And you're all playing beautifully. Though… I expected Nezu to solve the second verse by now."
The small principal's eyes flicked toward the riddle on screen.
"The storm sleeps…" he whispered.
His voice was steady. "You used our satellite weather program as the 'storm,' didn't you? The blackout we ran during the last test—"
> "Ah, there it is," Ren interrupted, amused. "Always a pleasure watching brilliance breathe."
Nezu tilted his head slightly. "So you're not trying to hide, are you?"
> "No. If I wanted to stay hidden, you'd never hear me. Consider this a conversation. A courtesy."
All Might's jaw tightened. "Courtesy for what?"
The speakers around the Hero Commission meeting room suddenly crackled to life.
Every monitor in U.A. High blinked at once, the logo distorting into static.
Then came his voice. Calm. Amused. Familiar enough to unsettle everyone who'd heard his name whispered lately — Mastermind.
> "How's it going, my dear players?"
His tone was smooth, taunting. "Solved the riddle yet? Or are the brightest minds in Japan still fumbling in the dark?"
A few heroes reached for comms, others glanced toward the screens — but no signal trace, no source. Just that voice, echoing like it came from inside their own heads.
> "Let me help you a little," Ren continued. "I'm not from the League… and I'm certainly not one of your heroes. I'm something else. A variable you failed to calculate."
His laugh — quiet at first, then rising, sharp and controlled — filled the silence like breaking glass.
> "All For One has already run free. And you'll stop the invasion before it begins, won't you? Because if you don't, half of Japan will fall, and the public will finally see what you've been hiding — the cracks in your so-called justice."
The feed glitched, screens flashing the words:
MASTERPIECE // RESET
> "I'm not your ally or your enemy," he said, voice dropping low. "But I am leading the League now. Stop Shigaraki… if you can."
Then the voice shifted — manic, almost delighted:
> "Let's see if the heroes can survive their own game!"
The speakers went dead.
Only silence remained — thick, suffocating, and full of dread.
---
> "For what's coming. The game ends in seven moves, remember?"
The lights dimmed again.
For a moment, every monitor flashed the same symbol — a white chessboard with a black king at its center.
> "Move one," Ren's voice whispered.
"Begins now."
The line went dead.
Every system rebooted automatically.
Then the alarms began to scream.
"Sir!" a technician yelled from the hall. "Multiple villain signatures detected — Yokohama district, near the abandoned steel plant!"
Edgeshot and Hawks exchanged looks.
Nezu exhaled slowly.
"So
the 'pawns march through rust and ash'…"
All Might clenched his fist.
"…has begun."