Facing the remaining members of the League of Villains, Igarashi Masata's eyes twitched slightly.
The terrifying aura he had once released during the forest training camp incident erupted again, crashing down on them like an invisible mountain.
Only now did they finally understand what kind of monster this U.A. student—whom Tomura Shigaraki regarded as his greatest enemy—truly was.
Under the crushing pressure of that invisible presence, Shigaraki's knees bent uncontrollably.
A powerful sense of submission rose from deep within his heart.
He desperately grabbed onto the edge of the bar counter, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing to the ground.
The desperate situation pushed him into near-madness.
Bloodshot veins rapidly spread across the whites of his eyes.
His hands clutched at his own neck unconsciously, and his face twisted into a distorted, hysterical expression.
"What are you talking about…? Stop spouting nonsense… My dream has only just begun… ah!"
He muttered incoherently, half speaking to himself, half shouting at the steadily approaching Masata.
"I want to completely tear apart this rotten society built on fake justice and false peace! I'll destroy everything—everything—!"
His words were chaotic, broken, and meaningless.
"I'm asking you something."
Masata cut him off coldly.
"Where is your teacher?"
He had no interest in listening to the ravings of a madman.
Without hesitation, Masata stepped forward and drove his fist straight into Shigaraki's abdomen.
He had no intention of understanding Shigaraki's so-called dream.
"Guh—!"
The violent blow made Shigaraki double over like a cooked shrimp.
He collapsed to his knees, retching uncontrollably.
Yet the pain did not calm him.
Instead, it pushed him further into insanity.
The severed hand that had once covered his face had long since flown off somewhere.
Shigaraki lifted his pale, dry face, eyes filled with madness, and screamed hysterically:
"I hate you the most, Igarashi Masata!!!"
"It's too late to say anything now."
Masata's voice was cold and indifferent.
He glanced around.
The other members of the League of Villains had already been overwhelmed by his aura and were easily restrained by the professional heroes.
Only Shigaraki remained.
The once-feared leader now looked like nothing more than a broken puppet.
"Still not talking?"
Masata's gaze hardened.
"Next time, it won't just be a punch."
Standing above him, Masata looked down with absolute dominance.
Shigaraki no longer resembled the leader of a criminal organization.
He looked like a child who had lost his favorite toy—empty, pathetic, and undignified.
But Masata was no saint.
This man had endangered everyone he cared about.
He would not be spared.
"Don't blame me for what happens next."
Seeing the mocking smile on Shigaraki's face, Masata felt irritation rising in his chest.
Breaking a few bones wouldn't be a big deal.
As long as he stayed alive, it was fine.
Magma began to surge along Masata's arm.
The scorching heat made everyone nearby uncomfortable.
The sharp smell of sulfur filled the air, burning their nostrils.
This was no illusion.
It was real, boiling lava.
Fear finally appeared in Shigaraki's eyes.
"K-Kurogiri! Answer me! Hurry up and teleport me away! Do you hear me?!"
He shouted desperately.
But Kurogiri remained unconscious.
There was no response.
Shigaraki backed away in panic, but the bar was too small.
There was nowhere to run.
"Repent for the sins you've committed!"
Masata roared.
He raised his magma-covered arm high, preparing to bring it down.
But at that moment—
Everything changed.
A massive wave of black liquid suddenly appeared in front of Shigaraki.
It spread like a flood, instantly engulfing the entire bar.
Masata saw the strange phenomenon.
But he did not stop.
His fist still fell.
"Boom!"
The sound of impact rang out.
The stench of burned flesh filled the air.
Masata had definitely hit something.
But his expression changed.
It wasn't Shigaraki.
It was a Nomu.
Several grotesque Nomu heads emerged from the black liquid.
One of them had blocked Masata's punch, giving Shigaraki just enough time to clutch his arm and retreat.
"What?!"
The surrounding professional heroes were shocked.
No one knew where these Nomu had come from.
No one understood what this black liquid was.
"Edgeshot! Where's Kurogiri?!"
Gran Torino shouted urgently.
He suspected this might be Kurogiri's doing.
But when he saw Edgeshot's equally stunned expression, he immediately realized—
Kurogiri was still unconscious.
...…
"Damn it!!!"
Masata yanked his fist out of the Nomu's body and sent it flying with a powerful kick.
White steam burst from his entire body.
His speed increased dramatically.
Without hesitation, he rushed toward Shigaraki again.
Shigaraki stood frozen, as if he still hadn't processed what had just happened.
If one looked closely, his lips were moving.
"Teacher…"
But Masata ignored it.
He leapt into the air and delivered a devastating kick toward Shigaraki's head.
He was confident.
One solid hit would knock him unconscious.
...…
"Snap!"
His leg cut through the air with a sharp sound.
But instead of hitting solid flesh, it felt like striking liquid.
The strange black substance reappeared, completely wrapping around Shigaraki's body.
Under Masata's kick, Shigaraki's form dissolved into liquid.
In a burst of distortion, he vanished from space entirely.
The same thing happened to the other members of the League of Villains.
Though slightly slower, black liquid covered their bodies as well.
Foul-smelling black fluid poured from their mouths.
One by one, they disappeared.
"Sorry, everyone!!!"
Kamui Woods shouted anxiously, blaming himself.
But everyone knew—
It wasn't his fault.
Like Masata, the heroes had attacked immediately when the black liquid appeared.
None of it worked.
This was not teleportation like Kurogiri's warp gate.
It was a different kind of transfer ability—one that forcibly relocated targets.
With the villains gone, the bar should have become quiet.
Instead, it grew even more chaotic.
Countless Nomu continued to emerge from the black liquid.
The heroes were suddenly overwhelmed.
"Damn it… How did we let them escape?!"
Masata clenched his fists.
Guilt filled his heart.
If he had been more decisive…
If he had acted faster…
Maybe Shigaraki wouldn't have gotten away.