The battlefield reeked of smoke and burnt concrete.
Broken glass crunched beneath my feet as I drove my fist through another Nomu's chest, the impact detonating the air around us in a violent shockwave. Its body folded inward before being launched across the ruined street, crashing through what remained of a storefront.
More of them rushed in.
They moved in packs, coordinated enough to be dangerous but not intelligent enough to strategize. Their strength was notable. Their durability was impressive.
But something about them felt wrong.
They were not strong enough.
Several pro heroes had arrived as backup minutes ago. I could feel their presence all around me—quirks activating, commands being shouted, civilians being evacuated through whatever safe corridors could be carved through the chaos.
Still, people were dying.
Even as we pushed forward, even as Nomu fell in pieces around us, screams continued to echo from deeper within the district.
An emergency broadcast blared through damaged speakers mounted on half-destroyed lamp posts.
"This is not an isolated incident," the announcement crackled through static. "Identical attacks are occurring across multiple nations. All available heroes are to respond immediately. This appears to be a coordinated global assault."
My breath caught.
Across the world?
What the hell is happening?
I crushed another Nomu beneath my heel and launched forward, clearing the final wave in our sector alongside the remaining heroes.
Minutes later, silence fell.
The section was secure.
Smoke drifted upward from collapsed buildings. Fire crews moved in. Medics rushed to the wounded.
I stood in the middle of it all, chest rising and falling as I scanned the devastation.
We had won here.
But something gnawed at my instincts.
"These things were too weak," I muttered under my breath.
A nearby hero turned to me. "What?"
"They weren't meant to destroy everything," I said slowly, piecing it together. "They were meant to occupy us."
Before anyone could respond, the horizon lit up.
Far away, beyond the layers of cityscape and smoke, a massive explosion erupted into the sky. Even from this distance, I could see the shockwave ripple outward like a violent distortion in the air itself.
A second later, the emergency broadcast returned—this time fractured with panic.
"Emergency update—Shibuya has been completely destroyed. Repeat—Shibuya is gone. An unidentified individual has appeared at the epicenter and is attacking indiscriminately. Heroes are falling. Evacuation has failed. He is moving—"
The transmission cut off abruptly.
My blood ran cold.
He is coming.
I did not wait for permission.
I launched forward, propelling myself through the city at full speed. The wind tore past me as I leapt across rooftops and shattered highways. Even at maximum output, Shibuya felt impossibly far away.
Each second felt like an eternity.
When I finally reached the outskirts, I slowed.
The destruction did not look like an invasion.
It looked like judgment.
Entire blocks had been erased. Not damaged. Not collapsed.
Erased.
The ground was carved into a massive crater, as if something had descended from the sky with enough force to rewrite the earth itself.
No screams.
No fighting.
Just silence.
In the center of it all stood a single man.
He turned lazily at the sound of my landing.
"Oh," he said, tilting his head with faint amusement. "And who might this be now?"
His gaze sharpened.
"I was certain I killed every hero in this district."
His lips curled.
"Izuku Midoriya. I thought Kurotsuki handled you already. You're still alive?"
My hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From rage.
"Shut up."
He leaned forward slightly.
"I'm afraid I can't hear you."
"I said shut up, you fucking bastard."
The ground shattered beneath my feet as I launched at him.
He did not move until the last second.
Then he smiled.
"That's more like it," he said. "Come at me, Izuku Midoriya. Show me what you've got."
He rushed forward to meet me.
The collision detonated the air between us.
Our fists met mid-strike, the impact creating a sonic boom that tore apart what remained of nearby structures. I followed with a spinning kick aimed at his jaw. He slipped just outside the arc with unsettling precision.
He was fast.
No.
He was reading me.
"I'll kill him," the thought pulsed in my head. "Kill. Kill. Kill him."
He countered with a palm strike that I barely blocked. Even through the guard, the force sent tremors through my bones.
He laughed.
"Is this really it? Were you always this weak?" he taunted. "I understand now why Kurotsuki said you were not much of a threat."
The words hit harder than the blow.
I did not care about my body.
I did not care about the damage.
Fajin surged through my limbs, compressing stored kinetic energy into explosive bursts.
One For All roared to life.
Gearshift activated.
The world slowed.
I vanished.
I reappeared behind him and drove my fist toward his spine with enough force to obliterate mountains.
He twisted.
Blocked.
The shockwave ripped open the sky, but his stance did not break.
"That's the spirit," he said calmly.
Before I could react, I felt something press against me.
He had not touched me.
But an invisible force wrapped around my body and detonated.
I was sent flying across the crater, smashing through layers of debris and concrete before crashing into the remains of a collapsed tower.
He did not move from his spot.
He did not chase me.
He had simply repelled me.
How?
He did not even touch me.
I forced myself back to my feet, vision blurring.
My limbs felt heavier.
My breathing became uneven.
I cannot lose again.
I cannot.
I lunged forward once more.
The fight blurred.
Strikes. Shockwaves. Collisions that tore apart what little remained of Shibuya.
He adapted with every exchange.
He predicted angles before I committed to them.
He countered combinations I had never used before.
My body began to fail before my will did.
The last thing I remember was the sound of my own heartbeat roaring in my ears.
Then darkness swallowed me.
—
When I opened my eyes again, I was kneeling.
The battlefield was quiet.
The man stood several meters away.
But he was different now.
His body was covered in bruises. Deep fractures ran along his torso. Both of his arms were gone, severed at the shoulders.
Blood poured down his sides.
The confident grin he had worn earlier was gone.
In its place was something closer to disbelief.
How did I do this?
I could not remember the final exchange.
It did not matter.
He needed to die.
I stood slowly and walked toward him.
He did not retreat.
His breathing was ragged.
"You…" he muttered, staring at me as if seeing something else entirely.
I raised my fist.
Before I could bring it down—
An explosion of force knocked me backward.
"Izuku, stop!"
Bakugo stood between us, smoke rising from his palms.
Shoto landed beside him, ice forming along the ground as a barrier.
Aizawa-sensei stepped forward, scarf already coiled and eyes glowing red.
"Stand down," Aizawa said sharply. "You're not thinking clearly."
"Move," I growled. "He needs to die."
Bakugo's jaw clenched.
"You're barely standing, idiot. You're going to collapse before you land that punch."
"That bastard killed everyone here."
"And killing him like this won't bring them back," Shoto said firmly.
I tried to push past them.
My vision swayed.
Before I could reach him—
A warp portal tore open behind the armless man.
He smiled faintly.
"That look in your eyes," he whispered to me. "That was not the face of a hero."
Then he fell backward into the portal.
It closed instantly.
Silence returned.
"God damn it!" I screamed, the sound tearing from deep within my lungs. "Ahhhhhhhhh!"
The echo carried across the ruined district.
I dropped to my knees, fists digging into broken stone.
He escaped.
Again.
—
Elsewhere.
In a dimly lit chamber far from the devastation, a woman stood with her arms crossed, watching a live feed that had just cut to static.
"I cannot believe you lost to him, Virex," she said coldly.
Before her, kneeling on reinforced flooring, was the same man.
His arms were gone.
His body barely remained intact.
Yet he was still conscious.
Blood pooled beneath him.
He let out a weak laugh.
"That was not defeat," he said quietly.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You were dismembered."
He looked up at her.
His gaze trembled—not from fear, but from realization.
"That was not Izuku Midoriya," Virex whispered. "At least, not entirely."
She stepped closer.
"What nonsense are you implying?"
He swallowed.
"When he lost consciousness, something else surfaced," he said. "Something far more dangerous than rage. It was controlled. Calculated. Efficient."
His breathing grew shallow.
"I was not fighting a hero anymore," he continued. "I was fighting something that understood killing better than I do."
The woman stared at him in silence.
"You are suggesting he holds something within him," she said carefully.
Virex's lips twitched.
"I am suggesting that Kurotsuki was wrong," he replied. "Izuku Midoriya is not weak."
His eyes darkened.
"He is something far more dangerous than we thought."