the world is yours
you are alive
the world is yours
The halls echoed with the animated chatter of students.
"Bro!" Inigo greeted with a wide grin, slapping Hiro on the back in a friendly but somewhat forceful manner. "You're coming with us today, no excuses."
Hiro's eyebrows furrowed slightly, an instinctive reaction to anything that seemed too social. "Nah, sorry. I've got better things to do."
"Oh come on man, again? We're going to the eat ramen! Are you really gonna miss it?!" Inigo exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of a child.
Hiro raised an eyebrow. "And why do you want me there?"
"Because we're friends, dumbass." joked Inigo.
"I've never really talked much with the other either... And I really mean it when I say I have other plans."
Inigo smiled. "I doubt your plans can beat hanging out with me and the guys!"
Hiro rolled his eyes. "I just don't have time for trivialities."
"A dose of trivialities might do you some good." said Inigo.
"I can't just go mess around wiht you and the others. I have a schedule to follow."
"Nuh uh."
"What do you mean 'nuh uh'?"
"You need a break, Hiro. A dose of trivialities might do you some good."
"Nah, I've got important stuff to take care of."
Inigo, undeterred by Hiro's initial resistance, continued to follow him through the labyrinthine halls of Shiketsu, right to the heart of the academic sanctum — the lab where Hiro spent most of his time. It was a place filled with the hum of machinery, the sharp scent of chemicals, and the occasional burst of sparks as inventions took form. Usually used by the support students, it was now empty.
"Inigo, I have work to do. Real work, I can't just go mess around with you and the others," Hiro stated, unlocking the door to the lab with a card that had presumably been given to him by a teacher.
Inigo leaned against the doorway, his eyes scanning the array of gadgets and schematics scattered across tables. "Looks like a mad scientist's lair in here. What are you working on?"
Hiro sighed, realizing Inigo wouldn't be easily deterred. "A project assigned by Hijack."
"Ohhh~ some classified stuff? Can I see?"
"Actually, Hijack never mentioned anything about this being confidential..."
"Then do I even need to ask you to tell me?" said Inigo with a grin.
With a reluctant nod, Hiro decided to unveil the intricacies of his current project. He motioned for Inigo to take a seat.
"So, it's a bit complicated," Hiro began, his tone shifting from casual to more serious. "You know my quirk, right?"
Inigo nodded. "Yeah, drugs."
"All kinds of substances, but yeah. And Hijack's quirk involves manipulating quirks, altering how they function. We thought, what if we could merge these abilities to create something groundbreaking?" Hiro explained, eyes gleaming with a touch of excitement.
He gestured to a holographic display showing a 3D model of a quirk factor, a complex structure at the core of an individual's superpower.
"We're working on a way to surgically extract and possibly duplicate a quirk factor." Hiro explained, his hands moving animatedly as he outlined the vision.
Inigo's eyes widened. "That's... ambitious. And a bit crazy."
Hiro chuckled. "Exactly. But think about the possibilities. Hero agencies could temporarily borrow powerful quirks for critical missions. Unique and valuable quirks could become more accessible. It's a game-changer."
Inigo scratched his head, a bemused smile forming. "So, you're going to make everyone a bit like Chris?"
"Closer to Takara. The process would require precise surgeries and long periods of acclimation, and even then there could be risk of rejection from the host body, or dangerous side effects from the quirk. Cain's versatility and stability are kind of impossible to replicate."
Hiro paused, looking at Inigo with a thoughtful expression.
The lab hummed with the low murmur of machinery and the occasional beep of a computer. Hiro, surrounded by a labyrinth of scientific equipment, stared at his latest experiment, lost in thought.
Inigo, a ball of energy in comparison, burst into the lab with his usual exuberance. "Hey there, my man! Working on some groundbreaking stuff as usual?"
Hiro, not looking up from his work, responded with a dry tone, "Just the usual madness, Inigo. Don't expect miracles every day."
Undeterred, Inigo leaned against a nearby table, watching Hiro with a half-smile. "You know, you could use a break. The Boys and I were thinking of grabbing some grub later. You in?"
Hiro sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Nah, too busy. You guys go ahead."
Inigo had been showing up to the lab with increased frequency, staying to keep Hiro company even when he refused his offers to hang out.
"You gave me an idea I could use for the project, so I've been even more occupied than usual." continued Hiro.
Inigo nodded thoughtfully. "I see. So I gave you, the genius, an idea. Of course it was totally on purpose and I'm fully aware of what that idea is. Yep."
Hiro rolled his eyes, but there was a subtle warmth in his expression. "Want me to tell you or not?"
"Yeah please do, sensei."
"I wanted to wait until the project was more advanced before I mentioned it. Let me explain." Hiro leaned back, eyes focused on the holographic projection, outlining his grand plan. "So, imagine this. We produce synthetic replicas of my quirk—controlled, safe, and designed specifically for medical use. Hospitals could use these to create custom medications on the fly. It could revolutionize treatment and save lives."
Inigo nodded thoughtfully. "That's pretty cool, but what if a villain gets their hands on it? I mean, it can produce some seriously potent stuff."
Hiro grinned, an expression that hinted at a secret plan. "Ah, that's where your quirk comes in, my friend. I've been thinking. What if we use your quirk to create a sort of failsafe?"
Inigo raised an eyebrow. "Failsafe? How so?"
Hiro's fingers danced across the keyboard. A Recording from Battle Training class started playing, specifically the part where Gigan kept on going and assisting Inigo's team despite him being unconsiouss. "See, Inigo, your dragon, Gigan, it's not just a manifestation of your quirk. It's got its own thing going on, right? It's like it has its own personality, its own instincts."
Inigo nodded, a fond smile appearing as he glanced at the vibrant green dragon coiled around his arm. "Yeah, Gigan's always been a bit of a free spirit. Does its own thing, follows its own whims. It's part of why we get along so well."
"That's precisely it!" Hiro exclaimed. "That's where your unique quirk comes into play, Inigo. You see, your quirk has a consciousness of its own, one that operates separately from you. It remained active during your battle training, even when you were knocked out. I want to study this form of quirk consciousness that operates independently. My idea is to infuse this consciousness into the replicated quirk factor. If the duplicated quirk has a separate entity that can influence its usage, it might act as a safeguard against potential villainous intentions."
Inigo was clearly intrigued. "You're aiming for a self-regulating quirk, one that has its own moral compass."
Hiro nodded, his excitement mingling with the weight of his ambition. "Precisely. A quirk that can assess the situation and make decisions that align with the greater good."
Inigo's eyes shone with a mixture of awe and wonder. "That's amazing, Hiro! But it sounds complex. Can it really be done?"
Hiro's lips quirked into a small smile, a rare expression for him. "It's a challenge, no doubt. But that's the fun of it, Inigo!"
"You know what's also fun?" said Inigo, smiling.
"What?"
"Hanging out with friends! Come on man!"
"No."
The electronic symphony of beeping games and the distant hum of conversations greeted Inigo and Hiro as they stepped into the lively arcade. Fluorescent lights bathed the room in a vibrant glow, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the polished floors. Hiro, despite his initial reluctance, couldn't help but let out an involuntary "Whoa."
Inigo grinned, throwing an arm around Hiro's shoulders. "Welcome to the den of digital delights, my friend!"
To their left, a group of kids cheered on a friend tackling a dance mat, while to the right, the unmistakable sound of an intense fighting game rivalry echoed. The air was charged with the scent of popcorn and the lingering excitement of competition.
Inigo led Hiro further in. The group—Bobby, Hifumi, and Sandatsu—was huddled near a row of vintage pinball machines, their laughter cutting through the arcade's ambient noise.
Hifumi nodded in greeting. "Good to see you, Hiro. Inigo's been trying to get you to hang out for a wekk bro."
Bobby spotted them first. "Look who decided to join the party! Hiro, my man, you finally escaped the lab!"
Hiro shot Bobby a wry smile. "Only under protest, mind you."
"Persuasion is my forte" said Inigo.
"You waited until I had advanced with my work and then threatened to shut the computer off before I could save my progress." added Hiro, a bit annoyed.
"Hey, it's fine as long as it makes you go out to get some fresh air, man." said Bobby.
"You have no idea how important that project is."
Inigo nudged him playfully. "Hiro's got this groundbreaking thing in the works. It's insane."
Sandatsu, leaning casually against a retro arcade cabinet, raised an eyebrow. "If Inigo's excited, it's gotta be more than a little something. Spill the beans, Hiro."
Hiro scratched the back of his head, slightly uncomfortable with the attention. "Yeah, well, it's just a little something I'm working on. No big deal."
Before Hiro could respond, Inigo intercepted, steering the conversation away. "Okay, okay, enough about work! We're here to have fun. And the only insane thing we're gonna see is the way I kick Sando's ass in DDR! I've managed to drag Hiro away from his beloved lab for a few hours, so let's make the best of it!"
Inigo, his eyes alight with enthusiasm, practically dragged Hiro to the Dance Dance Revolution machine. The rhythmic beats and flashing arrows beckoned them into the vibrant world of dancing lights. The game had become the mian attraction of the arcade, with a lot of dance pads set in front of a super large screen that took out most of the space on that wall.
Bobby, with his casual charm, effortlessly matched the beats, his muscular frame surprisingly agile. His steps had a sort of laid-back groove to them, as if he'd been born with a natural sense of rhythm.
To his side, Hifumi let loose on the dance pad. His movements were very agile, thanks to all the footwork practiced as a martial artist.
Inigo, never one to shy away from a spectacle, was practically bouncing on the dance pad. His vibrant energy translated into exuberant movements, and he even managed to incorporate a few spins and flips. Gigan, his neon green dragon, watched from the sidelines, its eyes glowing with amusement.
"Hiro, come on! Join the rhythm, man!" Inigo encouraged, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Hiro, leaning against an adjacent machine, folded his arms. "You guys go ahead. I'll just enjoy the show."
Inigo chuckled. "Dancing's liberating! Plus, it's more fun with friends."
"I'm more of a shooter kind of guy." said Hiro.
Inigo, undeterred, grinned and elbowed him. "Come on, Hiro! Let loose! We can go for the shooters after this!"
"..."
"Come on man!"
"I don't know..."
"True men bond over sharing their sick moves!"
"Ugh, fine..."
Reluctantly, Hiro stepped onto the dance pad. Inigo, ever the instigator, picked a song with a challenging beat. The arrows on the screen began their assault, demanding synchronization with the music.
Hiro, initially awkward, found himself caught in the rhythm. His movements, though hesitant, gradually synced with the beat. Inigo cheered him on, and even Gigan seemed to nod in approval.
Bobby, noticing Hiro's participation, hollered over the music. "Look who joined the party!
Hifumi smirked, acknowledging Hiro's efforts. "Not bad, Hiro. Inigo showed no mercy when picking the song huh?"
Sandatsu, who was stuffing his face with popcorn and candy on the backlines, cracked a rare smile. "You've got moves. Surprising."
"I feel lame..." said Hiro, struggling to keep his balance as the song became faster.
"Nah man. You're doing good!" said Bobby.
"Anyone who's having fun can't look lame, bro." encouraged Inigo.
The boys gathered in the same living room as they did last time, which had become the unofficial headquarters for their streaming endeavors. Cameras were set up, lights adjusted, and the air was charged with excitement.
Bobby, lounging on the couch with a nonchalant grin, adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Another day, another livestream. Let's make it epic."
Hifumi, typing on his phone, nodded. "Agreed. We're building quite the fanbase right?"
Inigo, a ball of energy, was hyping up his draconic construct. "Gigan, my man, you ready to steal the spotlight again?"
Gigan playfully roared, its neon green scales shimmering. Inigo laughed. "That's the spirit!"
Sandatsu, leaning against, observed the setup. "Hiro, you sure about handling the stream?"
Hiro, seated in front of a laptop, smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I'm the maestro behind the scenes. You guys do the dancing."
"You've been saying the word "dance" more often than usual bro. Maybe you wanna try DDR again?" teased Inigo.
"Ugh. Shut up bro..." said Hiro. Though his words didn't seem as harsh as before "Anyway, we're live, you fools."
Bobby, with his easygoing charisma, addressed the viewers. "What's up, awesome people of the internet? We're back for another round of doing nothing and still catching everyone's attention. And today, our man Hiro is the puppet master pulling the strings."
Hiro, typing away, deadpanned, "More like babysitter for a bunch of man-children. And I told you to not mention I was here!"
Inigo, with a theatrical flair, spread his arms. "But we're your man-children, Hiro!"
Hifumi laughed "He's just shy guys, don't worry. Come on, Hiro. One day, we'll get you in front of the camera."
Hiro chuckled. "Not happening, Inigo. I'm the wizard behind the curtain."
As the stream went live, the comments section erupted with greetings and cheers from their followers. The boys settled into their roles, bantering and joking as they always did.
Hero Clash X, the greatest (based on Inigo's totally objective opinion) pro-hero fighting game, was loaded on the screen, and the controllers were passed around like a coveted relic.
Inigo, with his characteristic enthusiasm, grabbed a controller. "Alright, folks, time for the ultimate showdown in Hero Clash X! Get ready for some pro-hero beatdowns!"
The characters on the screen assumed their battle stances, and the virtual arena crackled with energy. Inigo, the seasoned gamer of the group, confidently took the lead.
Hifumi, his competitive spirit ignited, leaned forward. "Prepare yourselves, gentlemen. The future #1 hero is about to show his gaming prowess."
Bobby, reclined on the couch. "Let the button mashing begin."
Hiro, sitting on the sidelines, observed with a cynical smirk. "This should be amusing. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen. Who's going to be the first to eat virtual dust?"
Inigo, with his experience, dominated the initial rounds, showcasing flashy maneuvers and even taunting his opponents between combos "Come on, boys! You're playing with the master here!"
Hifumi, determined, retorted, "Just wait. I'm warming up."
The banter flowed freely as Bobby teased, "I'm pretty sure I pressed all the buttons. How are you doing that?"
"Oh you mean the taunts? Press L2 and the start key at the same time."
Bobby followed Inigo's instructions, and his character displayed their pre set mocking animation. Hifumi tried to, but it didn't work for him.
"Hey why can't I do that?"
"Cause you're playing Endeavor bro, the devs said that he was adamant that his portrayal on the game was serious." explained Inigo.
"Can't blame them. Imagine having the Number 1 come for your ass cause you make him look goofy in a videogame." added Bobby.
"Couldn't be me. I exclusively play the goofiest of characters." said Inigo, chuckling as his character of choice, Popsy, executed all manner of silly taunts.
As the rounds progressed, the tide of the virtual battle shifted unexpectedly. Sandatsu, the silent contender, emerged as an unexpected force to be reckoned with. Instead of picking an existing hero as a character, he used the customize option to make one equipped with a mash up of moves from other sources, and he executed them with seemingly supernatural precision.
Inigo, eyes widening, exclaimed, "Sando, my man, have you been secretly training in the digital realm?"
Sando, not breaking his focus, smirked. "I have my methods."
The others watched in awe as Sandatsu, with uncanny reaction times, dodged, countered, and unleashed devastating attacks. The virtual crowd erupted in cheers as he clinched a victory.
Hifumi, shaking his head in disbelief,"I refuse to accept that Sando is this good. We're here learning how to taunt and he's unravelling the matrix mid fight." he joked.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you had ninja reflexes, bro. Care to share your secret?"
Sando, leaning back, simply said, "A warrior reveals no secrets."
Inigo, laughing, slapped Sando on the back. "Well played, my friend. You might end up being the one who dethrones the gaming king."
Sandatsu smiled. "Oh yeah, I will become a king alright."
"A king, you say?" she scoffed, her tone dripping with condescension. "You're nothing but a stray mutt, lost and pathetic."
The room, or perhaps the hallucination, felt stifling. The air seemed charged with tension as Mio circled him like a predator closing in on wounded prey. Her every movement exuded a sadistic grace.
"Kings are born from strength, from cunning, from an unyielding will. You are nothing but a deranged lunatic. A piece of shit joke of an assassin that barely lasted a few missions before ending up braindead." she continued, her voice a venomous.
In the heart of the Hero Public Safety Commission's labyrinthine headquarters, there existed a room shrouded in silence. The air was sterile, carrying the antiseptic tang of a place designed for function, not comfort. The walls were a clinical white, devoid of any adornments. A single observation window, its surface one-way mirrored, allowed unseen eyes to pry into the abyss of Sandatsu's deteriorating sanity.
There were moments of lucidity, brief interludes of awareness that served, but, more often than not, his mind was sinking into the depths of madness.
His keepers, agents of the Hero Public Safety Commission, watched from a concealed control room. Faces hidden behind monitors, they scrutinized the man who had once been a living weapon. Their gazes were clinical, detached, for they dealt not with a person but with the residue of one.
In the haze of his disjointed reality, Sandatsu found himself in the familiar yet twisted confines of the safehouse. The scene played out like a corrupted tape, the colors bleeding into each other in disorienting patterns.
Mio stood before him. Her figure, lit by the muted glow of a flickering lamp, seemed almost spectral—both present and elusive.
Present Day
Mio's long strides ate up the distance, her sharp eyes and quirk scanning the crowd for any sign of danger. People moved around her like the ebb and flow of a river, their faces a blur as she navigated the labyrinthine alleys. Occasionally, someone would cast a curious glance at her, but Mio paid them no heed; her focus was on self preservation, on staying one step ahead of the storm that was most likely coming.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she quickened her pace, the rhythm of her steps a staccato against the canvas of Kyoto's ambient noise.
Mio burst into her apartment, the door slamming shut behind her. The familiar scent of home enveloped her. She moved through the living room with a hurried determination, barely sparing a glance at her sister before going into her room. Mio's hands moved mechanically, packing clothes, essentials, anything that would sustain her in the unknown days ahead. Eventually her gaze fell on her collection of trading cards.
She glanced at the cards with an air of detachment, their glossy surfaces reflecting the lamplight. It was a collection that had once brought her joy, a passion she had cultivated in private. At least until that asshole came into her room that one time. It was as if it was mocking her — the handmade card. Sandatsu's crude attempt at humor. She scoffed, wondering why she had kept such a reminder of an intrusion she despised.
"Why did I even bother?" Mio muttered to herself, her voice carrying a bitter edge. She reached for the card, holding it between her fingers as if its mere presence soured the air around her. The cartoonish depiction of Sandatsu, complete with exaggerated features, stared back at her.
And that wasn't the only thing. Mio's gaze caught the familiar sight of the small cat plushie nestled among her belongings. She scowled at the plushie, as if its stitched features embodied some facet of her disdain. With a swift, dismissive motion, she grabbed the plushie, squeezing it in her hand as if trying to crush the memories it held.
"This worthless piece of junk," she sneered, hurling the plushie into a corner with a contemptuous flick of her wrist.
As she zipped up the bag, Mio shot a final glare at the plushie, as if daring it to challenge her resolve to run away.
The door slammed shut behind her, echoing her abrupt departure from the apartment. As she descended the staircase, her pace quickened. What was she even doing? The cold night air greeted her as she emerged onto the deserted street.
Mio's mind raced with urgency, a wildfire of thoughts fueled by desperation. Sandatsu's recollections, like a digital library, unfolded in her mind. His and her memories almost overlapping.
Memory
"You can't just barge in like you own the place" Mio spat, her voice laced with venom.
"Oh, excuse me, Princess," Sandatsu retorted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Didn't realize I needed an invitation to the magnificent castle of Mio Katsuragi. Besides, this place was mine before I gave it to you."
"Exactly, that was before, you ape. Get. Out."
Sandatsu ignored her.
Mio's eyes narrowed further, her lips curling into a snarl. "You're insufferable, you know that?"
Sandatsu unpacked his peculiar assortment of items. Empty blood bags, syringes, and phlebotomy paraphernalia laid bare on a nearby table.
"What's all this?" Mio questioned, her tone filled with irritation. "I changed my mind. I don't even want to know. If you stain the carpet I brought I swear I will kill you."
"Alright, I can use the basement." As he made his way to the basement door he couldn't help but notice the changes in the safehouse. Mio, in her own twisted way, had turned the place into something resembling a home. The cold, desolate atmosphere he remembered had been replaced by subtle touches of warmth. "I see you've been busy redecorating,"
"Unlike some people, I like my surroundings to reflect some semblance of taste. You'd understand if you had any."
"I think I have great taste." he said, as the basement door swung shut behind him.
After some time, Sandatsu emerged from the basement, his footsteps unsteady. The ascent had taken a toll on him, leaving him wobbly from the loss of both blood and stockpiled energy. He sprawled out on the floor, finding an odd comfort in the fluffy yellow carpet that clashed with the otherwise utilitarian decor.
Mio, engrossed in assembling her PC, spared him an occasional glance.
Lying on the floor, Sandatsu observed Mio's efforts with detached interest. The pieces of the PC were scattered across the floor, their metallic glint contrasting with the soft glow of the LED strips she'd installed. Mio, despite her irritated demeanor, worked with a precision that hinted at a hidden passion for technology.
The room settled into a strange calm, an uneasy truce between them. Mio's hands moved with a practiced rhythm, connecting wires and securing components, while Sandatsu, lying on the floor, observed her quietly.
Mio, in a surprising departure from her usual demeanor, decided to make herself tea, standing up and moving to the kitchen. Sandatsu, genuinely puzzled, remarked, "I thought you were a coffee person."
"And I don't think of you as a person at all." There was an odd normalcy in her response, a departure from the biting retorts that had characterized their interactions.
As Mio sipped her tea, the room filled with a strange tranquility. The soft hum of the fans of the computer she had assembled, the occasional clink of a tea spoon against the ceramic, and the sound of the trees moving because of the wind outside the safehouse created an atmosphere that, while not entirely comfortable, deviated from the usual tension.
"So you gonna play games on that thing?"
Sandatsu's inquiry about the purpose of the newly assembled PC invited a fresh wave of insults from Mio. She couldn't resist the opportunity to mock him, knowing that in the realm of technology, he was, by her standards, a primitive creature.
"You think I'd waste a masterpiece like this on that? It's for work, not whatever barbaric games you play," she spat, a sneer accompanying her words.
Sandatsu, seemingly impervious to her barbs, continued, "Well, you can still have a nice wallpaper right? I could send you some cat pictures. They might make your new fancy setup less sterile."
Mio just stared at him with absolute disdain.
Sandatsu, lying on the carpet, stared at the ceiling, his expression unchanged. "Just offering. No need to get all worked up."
Mio, undeterred by his nonchalance, continued her assault. "I bet even the cats in those pictures look depressed after being subjected to your presence."
This time, Sandatsu cracked a small smile. "Well, they seem pretty content. Maybe it's the calming effect of my caveman aura."
The room fell into a lull of awkward silence, the only sound the subtle hum of the PC. Sandatsu, ever unpredictable, broke the quiet with a seemingly mundane request.
"Can I have some tea?"
Mio shot him a look that could have curdled milk. "No."
"And if I make it myself?"
"I'm still the one who brought the stuff needed to make tea. So no."
"Can you even stop me?"
"Do you ever get tired of being such a bother?" said Mio, with a disdainful glance, as she sank further into the couch. For some reason she was sure Sandatsu would listen to her.
A few more minutes of uneasy silence followed. This time, the one to speak was Mio. "So, what's it like being a clown for an audience that probably can't stand you?"
"You mean the streams? You watch the stuff we upload?"
"No retard. I saw it through your memories. Why would I even bother watching that?" she lied.
Present Day
Mio finally managed to reach the tent. It was a Spartan setup—minimalist and functional. A rough cot lay in one corner, and the cooler she sought occupied another. Mio approached it holding her flashlight with her teeth, her gloved hands making short work of the latch. Rows of blood bags, like a morbid vintage collection, greeted her eyes.
Mio's mind raced through the possibilities. Would this peculiar resource provide her with an edge, or was it a desperate grasp at straws? She knew most of Sandatsu's crude plans (if they could even be called that) from his memories. The tent's flap rustled as she made her exit, leaving Sandatsu's refuge just as clandestinely as she had entered, only now she carried the cooler with her.
The storm drain exhaled the unmistakable odor of dampness and decay. The putrid scent invaded her senses, and she couldn't help but scrunch her nose in disgust.
"Disgusting," she muttered to herself, disdain evident in her voice.
Navigating through the dimly lit labyrinth of the sewers, Mio felt her irritation grow more and more, to the point of it overcoming her anxiety. How had she, a woman of such refined tastes, ended up in this repulsive place?
However, her thoughts were interrupted when that man came in range of her quirk. She felt him move to her location, and, after less than a minute he emerged from the shadows, a towering figure adorned in tattered clothes. His gaze met Mio's with an unsettling intensity. "Took you long enough, tiny one," he remarked, his voice a low growl.
Mio scoffed, unfazed by Drekus' sudden appearance. "I'm not here for pleasantries."
Drekus grinned, revealing a set of long tusks. "Drekus is too smart to expect pleasantries from ball-shaped girl. Now you follow Drekus."
Mio, surprisingly cooperative, fell into step behind him. The echo of their footsteps reverberated through the damp tunnels as they delved deeper into the underbelly of the city.
"Drekus never thought little demon ball would actually show up," Drekus remarked, glancing back at Mio with a sly grin. "But he thought different. Drekus felt a little jealous. Even if it was only for a bit. He was lucid. Drekus could feel it."
Mio shot him a scathing look. "I'm not here for your amusement, sewer rat. Let's get this over with."
Drekus chuckled, his laughter reverberating off the damp walls.
They arrived at a chamber at the heart of the hideout. The hissing and growling could be heard even before they got there. Mio had already seen them through her quirk, but being there in front of them was revolting. Still, they were just another tool in the end.
"So, what does little ball demon girl think?" Drekus asked, his eyes gleaming with a peculiar excitement.
Mio, maintaining her facade of nonchalance, feigned disinterest. "It's a freak show, just as I expected. I've brought the blood, so let's just get this over with."
Drekus took the cooler from Mio's hand. And started to take out the bloodpacks.
"Drekus and him are not so different. Both hate the suits. Both want to break free." he said, with a thoughtful expression on his face.
"What the fuck are you barking about?" said Mio.
"Drekus doesn't like the suits. Thinks they're the real villains. Little death, he dreams of a day when he's lucid, when he can rip apart the suits and be free."
Mio raised an eyebrow. "And you believe in this dream of his?"
Drekus nodded vehemently. "Drekus believes. He can be free. Make his own choices, not dance to the tunes of the suits. Drekus was almost content with living with new family, but he opened Drekus' eyes. The suits will always be there, always take the family away."
Mio didn't see such a conversation in Sandatsu's memories, and against her better judgement, she used her quirk on Drekus while he talked. It was like diving into a cesspool of disjointed memories, each more distorted than the last. She only managed to catch glimpses of the conversation the two had, as it had taken place after the fight between Feral and Drekus against Sandatsu, and the beating Drekust took probably messed with his head quite a bit.
Memory
Drekus scratched his head, the crude simplicity of his gestures belying the weight of their conversation. "Little death wants control?"
Sandatsu's response was a chilling affirmation. "Exactly. I can't start thinking about my goals if I can't even control my daily life."
Even through Drekus's disjointed recollections, Mio could feel that Sandatsu was different.
"Don't you want to get rid of them?" continued Sandatsu.
"Suits took everything from Drekus. Family, friends. Made Drekus into what he is now." said the blue giant.
"Exactly. From the start I had nothing. But you? The took everything away from you. Trampled over your life, right?"
Drekus remained silent.
"I think that little voice in your head, the one that wants you to be happy, would understand it, you know? Wanting to get rid of everyone who wronged you. Not because of revenge, but because they will do it again."
Drekus started to nod.
"After all, would you bother trying to grow flowers if they are bound to get trampled on by others?"
Those eyes. the way Sandatsu, partially lucid, looked at Drekus. It sent a shiver down Mio's spine, and for a moment, she hesitated, almost recoiling from the sheer force emanating from the memory.
The city skyline glowed against the night sky as Ernst Henning, known by his hero moniker Impakt, rushed through the urban sprawl.
Beside him, with an air of calm that belied the urgency of the situation, ran Masanori Kitamura, hero name Hijack, a laid-back underground hero who also taught at Shiketsu High.
They arrived at the scene, where the scent of danger and blood hung in the air like a tangible force. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an otherworldly glow on the chaos that unfolded below. The bodies, or rather bodyparts, were so numerous and dispersed that gauging the amount of victims was almost impossible.
Feral, her form now a monstrous silhouette, twisted lithely to confront Hijack, who sidestepped with an almost choreographed finesse thanks to his incredible reflexes. He tried to touch Feral to use his quirk on her, but she threw at him the now lifeless body of the hero who had made the emergency request for aid.
Impakt collided with the villain, but Feral, driven by an insatiable bloodlust, welcomed the confrontation. Her scales glowed with an eerie luminescence as the collision sent shockwaves through the narrow alley. Feral's claw swiped through the air with deadly precision, forcing Impakt to pivot and evade. He felt the raw power emanating from her, a power that transcended her usual prowess.
"Impakt, keep her attention!" Hijack's voice cut through the chaos.
Impakt nodded, knowing his now enhanced strength would allow him to keep up with Feral. Yet, with each passing moment, the villain seemed to grow more formidable.
Feral's tail lashed out, a deadly whip seeking its mark. Impakt, agile and focused, leaped back just in time. The tail collided with a brick wall, sending debris cascading. Hijack, calculating and calm, made his move, aiming for the tail. His hand made contact with Feral's scaly skin, and he activated his quirk.
Feral, for a fleeting moment, felt a tug on her instincts. It was as if a phantom hand was trying to steer her movements. Hijack, knowing the limitations of his quirk against mutants, retreated swiftly into the shadows.
"I can't shut down her quirk completely, she's a mutant! I'll restrict her movements as much as I can while I evacuate the area!" he said.
Impakt's fists met Feral's scaled hide. The shockwaves rippled through the air, rattling windows and shaking loose the city's grime. Feral, though momentarily staggered, retaliated with another vicious tail swipe. The hero took the attack head on, empowering himself with kinetic energy before grabbing onto the tail and using it to throw Feral against the pavement.
Feral got up faster than he expected, unleashing another brutal slash with her claws. Yet, Impakt stood firm, a human bulwark against the storm.
However, with each absorbed blow, Impakt sensed the strain on his own body. Feral's Evolution, relentless in it's empowerment, pushed against the limits of his ability.
Feral lunged with blinding speed, claws extended like blades. Impakt responded with a calculated parry, deflecting the lethal strikes. His muscles rippled with absorbed energy. He feigned left, then struck from the right, feeling the ribs of the villain shatter under the brutal force of his punch.
Feral roared, her bloodlust triggering another surge of mutations. Spikes erupted along her spine, and her tail elongated into a dangerous weapon. She swung it like a battering ram, aiming for Impakt's midsection. Swiftly, Impakt sidestepped, the tail narrowly missing him.
"Hold still, you scrawny hero!" Feral snarled, her voice dripping with contempt.
Impakt chuckled, "Not in a million years, monster."
Impakt decided to take the offensive. He darted forward, his movements like a blur, and delivered a series of rapid strikes. Each punch, enhanced by the absorbed kinetic energy, connected with precision. Yet, Feral adapted, her scales hardening as she evolved.
Amidst the turmoil, Feral's tail struck again, with the force of a battering ram. Impakt, anticipating the move, absorbed the energy, feeling the strain on his body. He retaliated, grabbing the tail mid-swing. Spinning like a cyclone, he launched Feral into a crumbling building.
His body vibrated with the intensity of the absorbed energy, but he gritted his teeth, determined to weather the storm. "You're not the first big bad I've faced," he muttered to himself, steeling his resolve. "and you sure as hell won't be the last!"
With a sudden burst of speed, Feral leapt from the building towards the hero, delivering a bone-shattering kick. Impakt, caught off guard, absorbed the kinetic force but was sent skidding backward. "Come on, Ernst, you've faced worse," he chided himself, rallying his focus.
Feral, frustrated by Impakt's resilience, unleashed a primal roar. ""Stubborn hero! You are nothing!"
With a swift spin, Impakt delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to Feral's side. The impact reverberated through her, momentarily disrupting her assault. However, Feral's mutations responded in kind. Sharp spines erupted from her form, a defensive mechanism against Impakt's calculated strike. His attack, though impactful, now came at the cost of the razor-sharp quills tearing at him.
Impakt pushed through the pain. As Feral's tail coiled around him, a grimace of pain crossed his face. The pressure was immense, threatening to crush bone and sinew. Yet, within this vise of danger, Impakt remained unyielding.
With a surge of kinetic energy, Impakt executed a sudden burst of strength. Muscles rippled beneath his costume, his raw strength momentarily disrupting Feral's grip. Now free, he took the chance to strike back. The first strike targeted Feral's jaw, snapping her head back. Before she could recover, a follow-up strike found its mark on her midsection.
However, Feral's mutations responded once more. Bony protrusions formed a makeshift armor, blunting the impact.
Free from the constriction, Impakt spun away, evading another tail strike.
Feral was unrelenting. Her towering frame now didn't even flinch against most of the hero's attacks. Impakt recognized the need for a strategic shift. Feral's Evolution was an ever-rising tide, a battle of attrition against her meant certain defeat.
Instead of absorbing Feral's strikes head-on, he focused on redirection. With each clash, he tried to dodge or parry the brunt of her attacks while absorbing whatever kinetic energy he could, minimizing the strain on his own body. It was a delicate maneuver, a risky gamble where timing was everything.
Claws flashed like streaks of lightning, but Impakt, fueled by determination, ducked, weaved, and parried. His movements were a dance of precision and skill, a testament to his seasoned heroics.
As Feral launched herself for another strike, Impakt seized the opportunity. Darting behind her, he moved with the precision of an experienced warrior. With a precise pivot, he aimed to grapple her mid-lunge. In a swift motion, Impakt launched himself onto Feral's back. His powerful arms sought to encircle her throat
Impakt's muscles strained as he maintained the hold, his focus unyielding. Feral's mutations responded once more, bone spurs protruding from her back on top of the natural armor she had already developed.
The crash echoed through the narrow streets as Feral and Impakt tore through a building, shattering concrete and glass. The debris scattered as the duo burst onto a main street. Most civilians had been evacuated thanks to Hijack, who, perched atop a building, maintained his concentration, eyes fixed on the tumult below.
Impakt, unrelenting in his pursuit, maintained his grip on Feral even amidst the chaos. The villain's instincts kicked in. She leapt, twisting mid-air like a crocodile would when they rip their prey apart, attempting to free herself from Impakt's encircling arms.
They crashed onto the pavement. Impakt, determined to make the most of it, shifted his weight, attempting to absorb most of the impact and use the strength gained to mantain the choke on the monstrous villain. The road cracked beneath the force, sending shockwaves through the asphalt.
Hijack's control guided Feral's movements, steering her away from the fleeing civilians. Her monstrous form lumbered across the street. The few remaining civilians, their expressions a mix of terror and disbelief, scattered in every direction.
As Feral's powerful tail arched upwards, a bone stinger emerged from its tip, gleaming in the fractured light of the neon signs. With a primal snarl, Feral struck. The bone stinger thrust forward like a spear The attack was swift, a blur of motion that cut through the air with lethal intent.
Pain flared through Impakt's body. The bone stinger, along with Feral's ever-increasing strength, was managing to break through the defense granted by his quirk.
Undeterred, Impakt, fueled by a hero's determination, retaliated. He summoned his strength, muscles rippling beneath his costume as he put every last bit of accumulated strength he had on his grapple around Feral's neck. But then, he started to feel numb. his grip around the villain's neck loosened, and she managed to throw him off.
Feral had not only developed a bone spike to attack with, it was also poisonous.
Said poison now coursed through Impakt's veins like liquid fire. He gritted his teeth against the pain, his body demanding respite that the ongoing battle refused to provide. The hero's resolve, however, burned brighter than the searing agony within him.
Impakt, drained but unbroken, watched as Feral moved towards him.
He had done well against an S-Class Threat alone. But wait, he wasn't alone.
Just as Feral prepared for the final, decisive strike, an unseen force arrested her movements. She froze mid-step, a snarl of confusion contorting her savage features. It was as if an invisible hand had seized control. Feral's limbs trembled, a silent struggle playing out beneath her motionless exterior. It looked like her right arm was about to break free from the paralysis, but then Hijack jumped on it from the top of the building, stopping her on her tracks.
"Oh no you don't, you kaiju bitch!" shouted the underground hero.
Impakt, bewildered but seizing the opportunity, pushed himself upright. His body protested every movement, every attempt to defy the encroaching darkness. Yet, with a resilience forged in the crucible of countless battles, he staggered towards Feral.
And then, as abruptly as she'd been halted, Feral crumpled to the ground.
Impakt, his body showing the wear and tear of the savage battle, found himself on a stretcher. With a mix of pain and jest he chuckled weakly. "I'll have you know, Hijack, this is just a flesh wound. I can walk it off, no need for the dramatics."
"I'm pretty sure they meant for minor bruises, not when your bones are doing the Macarena," Hijack quipped, a wry grin playing on his face as he walked alongside the stretcher, being carried by the paramedics towards the ambulance.
The conversation shifted to the peculiar circumstances surrounding Feral's apprehension. The usual protocol involving local law enforcement was eschewed in favor of a more clandestine authority—the enigmatic figures from the Hero Public Safety Commission.
Hijack, leaning against the side of the ambulance, squinted at the retreating vehicle. "Government types, huh? Wonder what they want with a bloodthirsty mutant like Feral."
"Who knows? But I don't envy the poor souls tasked with handling someone like her."
The rumbling of armored vehicles echoed through the night as the Hero Public Safety Commission convoy navigated through the shadowed arteries of the city. Envigor, a government-sponsored hero, stood vigilant amidst the low hum of the convoy's engines. His frame, robust and imposing under the dim glow of the vehicle's interior lights, couldn't help but shrink in the presence of Shihai Owari.
Shihai, a looming figure of menace, dominated the compartment not only because of her height, but also with her chilling aura. Her eyes, cold and unforgiving, seemed capable of extinguishing life with a mere gaze.
Usually, Envigor would not question the deviation from the usual route. The Commission had it's orders, but on the field, the Captain's directives were absolute. But this time was different, they were transporting an S-Class Threat.
"Captain Owari," Envigor hesitated, addressing her with a formality that underscored the tension. "We've strayed far from the usual route. May I inquire about the change in direction?"
The convoy pressed on, the road winding along the cliffside.
Her eyes, piercing and inscrutable, seemed to dissect not only his every word, but also his body.
"Coming after me," she murmured, her voice a dissonant melody. Slightly deep and raspy.
Envigor, thrown off balance by the cryptic statement, tried to maintain composure. "Who's coming for you, Captain?"
Shihai's lips curled into a semblance of a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "A worthy sacrifice."
Her tone sent shivers down Envigor's spine.
"Strength, Shihai," her grandfather would murmur, his voice a blend of authority and a strange kind of love. "Our bloodline thrives on strength. Your father, weak. Couldn't kill me when it mattered."
Shihai, a mere child then, would nod solemnly, taking in the echoes of her grandfather's expectations. But it didn't take long for her to leave. Survival is the strongest of instincts, after all, and in the end it trumped her grandfather's indoctrination.
After she left, The Hero Public Safety Commission had become her stage. The passage of years had turned Shihai Owari into a lethal weapon.
After countless missions, where the crimson stain of her targets mingled with the darkness within her, Shihai had ascended to a level of strength she once deemed impossible.
She remembered the night she returned home perfectly. Her entrance was silent, the door yielding to her with a barely perceptible whisper. The room was dimly lit, and the old man lay on a bed adorned with memories and regrets. Shihai observed him with eyes that had seen too much, a gaze that had become inhumanly cold, or perhaps, everything she went through just brough what she already had within to the surface.
"Grandfather,"
"Shihai," he rasped.
She remained silent.
"You were meant to be a sacrifice," he uttered.
The feeble figure on the bed convulsed with fury, a last desperate attempt to seize control. His gnarled hands, weakened by the passage of time, clutched at the air, as if seeking to snatch back the power that had been wrested away.
"Runaway!" he spat the word like venom, a final condemnation. "You will never escape the hunger of our bloodline. You will hunger, and it will consume you."
She stared at the pathetic old man. There was no sympathy, no remorse; only the detached gaze of a predator that had outgrown its competition.
With a convulsive surge, he rose from the bed, bones creaking and muscles straining against the inevitability of decay. It was a pitiful sight, a once-mighty patriarch reduced to a frail specter.
As he lunged forward, a final act of defiance, Shihai's hand moved with a grace that belied its lethal intent. Her arm pierced the old man's chest like a mighty spear, and the feeble figure crumbled to the floor. The battle, if it could be called that, ended as swiftly as it had begun.
Silence reigned in the room, broken only by the ragged breaths of the defeated patriarch. Shihai stood over him, witnessing his death throes.
Shihai's gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, her eyes lost in the memories that swirled within.
"You don't understand, do you, Envigor?" Shihai's voice was a whisper, carried away by the wind that seeped through the gaps in the armored vehicle. "The hunger... it's insatiable."
Envigor's confusion was painted across his face.
Shihai turned to him. Envigor almost succumbed to his instinct to avoid her gaze. "Strength begets strength," she uttered, her tone cold "Everywhere in the world, sacrifices are made for the survival of our kind. I never disregarded my grandfather's words. I felt the hunger long before I returned to face him. I never thought he was wrong; I understood all along."
"I had my son," she continued, her tone a mix of detachment and bitter acknowledgment. "Not out of love, but out of necessity. I knew that one day, I would hunger for a strength equal to mine. Someone who could appease the gnawing emptiness that runs in our blood."
Shihai knew how strong Sandatsu was. So she had to make some last minute preparations for their inevitable battle. The plan involved a feigned escape on Feral's part, a desperate bid for freedom that would serve as a smokescreen for the cold-blooded murder she intended. With the strength of such a brutal villain, she would be able to kill her son.
"So, what's your take on all this?" Waver asked, his gaze fixed on doors of the meeting room.
Law scratched his head, a gesture of contemplation. "They're keeping something big under wraps. The change in Feral's transport route... that's not standard procedure."
Waver nodded, the weight of the unknown pressing on them. "We're in the dark on this one. But whatever it is, it's got the higher-ups rattled."
The atmosphere in the Hero Public Safety Commission was fraught with tension. Agents Waver and Law, usually engrossed in their own affairs, found themselves drawn into the sudden gravity of the situation.
Waver's sharp eyes caught sight of a figure emerging from the confines of the gathering. Dressed in the crisp uniform of a secretary.
As she delicately balanced a tray adorned with the remnants of the tea service, Waver approached her with a disarming smile. "Hey there," he said, his tone a blend of charm and nonchalance. "Mind if I snag one of those leftover teas? I've got a feeling it's gonna be a long night, and I could use a pick-me-up."
The secretary, caught off guard by the unexpected request, hesitated for a moment. Her eyes flickered between Waver and the tray. She seemed almost annoyed.
"Sure, help yourself," she replied.
Waver plucked a cup from the tray. The secretary offered a polite smile before continuing on her way, disappearing around a corner. Taking a sip of the lukewarm tea, Waver rejoined Law, who was observing him with a raised eyebrow.
"Where did you go?" asked Law.
Waver blinked, genuinely perplexed by Law's question. "I went to the cafeteria, grabbed a cup of tea. What's the big deal?" he responded, a note of confusion in his voice.
Law, however, wasn't buying it. His eyes narrowed as he pointed in the opposite direction. "Cafeteria's that way, Waver. You just came from over there."
As the realization set in, Waver's gaze shifted down the corridor. He took a moment to process the incongruity of his movements. "That's... not possible," he muttered.
Law, tensing up, gestured toward the ceiling. "And look at that, the security cameras are down. Something's off."
Their brief exchange was interrupted by a sudden burst of commotion emanating from the meeting room. The once-muted tones of discussion had escalated into what sounded like a struggle.
Without hesitation, they rushed toward the meeting room. The usually soundproofed doors now betrayed the chaos within. The grim tableau before Waver and Law sent shivers down their spines. The once-respected top figures of the Hero Public Safety Commission now lay sprawled across the room, their lifeless forms twisted into grotesque shapes. It was a surreal scene, as if the very air had turned toxic and driven them to madness.
Waver couldn't help but mutter, "What the hell happened here?"
Law, his usual stoic demeanor faltering for a moment, shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck..." he trailed off, unable to find the words.
Smoke and steam billowed upward, creating an eerie mist that clung to the air. The room, already a macabre display of violence, transformed into a chaotic scene as the sprinklers came to life. Water cascaded down, mixing with the darkened remnants of the destroyed documents.
Waver and Law, caught off guard, shielded their eyes from the sudden deluge. The water, mixed with ash and remnants of charred paperwork, formed puddles on the floor. The acrid smell of burnt documents permeated the room.
Law's sharp eyes darted to the remnants of the documents. "They were destroying evidence. But why?"
Sandatsu rose from the chair in his Spartan room at the Hero Public Safety Commission building.
The surveillance team, a mosaic of puzzled expressions and hushed conversations, found themselves surprised by the young man's sudden burst of activity. Some argued that nothing was amiss, that this was merely another episode in Sandatsu's ongoing descent into madness—a routine psychological unraveling that the observers had grown accustomed to.
"He's just having one of his breakdowns. He won't do anything," one muttered, attempting to alleviate the collective unease that had settled in the room like a thick fog. His other two colleagues weren't so sure.
Suddenly, the three researchers stopped talking. Their faces turning incredibly pale, with a blank expression.
The door swung open with an irritated force, and Mio stormed in.
"Move your lazy ass, retard. We're getting out of here," Mio barked.
Sandatsu, a bit more lucid now, raised an eyebrow, his gaze trailing over Mio's unconventional outfit. "What's with the getup?"
She just looked at him with disdain.
Sandatsu, strangely calm, moved towards the door, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "I like it," Mio rolled her eyes.
Mio scoffed, a mix of annoyance and disbelief etched on her face. "Of course, you do. Save your degenerate opinion for someone who cares. We've got, what, five minutes until the cameras are back online. So, step it up, or I leave you here to die."
"Give me a break, controlling too many people is hard."
Like vengeful spirits, Drekus and the colossal Feral descended upon the convoy from above. Drekus, with his steel-feathered wings glinting in the moonlight, slashed through the air like a demented angel of death. Beside him, Feral's monstrous form was enhanced by dragon wings that cast ominous shadows on the ground.
The assault was swift and brutal. They landed on the vehicle that was at the front, completely destroying it, before shifting their attention to the one in the middle. Both Feral and Drekus grabbed onto the convoy, stopping it on it's tracks, and then flipping it to the side.
From inside, the other Feral stirred. The restraints designed to contain her were shredded like paper. She emerged, roaring.
The last vehicle, the one Shihai and Envigor were on, stopped.
"Why are there two of them?!" shouted Envigor.
After his talk with Drekus, Sandatsu had made the most out of his limited time of lucidity.
The severed limbs lay on a makeshift operating table. He managed to cut them off as clean as he could, using Separate, Black Layer and Psychokinesis.
Drekus wouldn't be able to restrain Feral for much longer, even after their battle she was a force to be reckoned with. He focused on another of his stolen quirks.
The limbs began to twitch, then convulse, as if possessed by a life force eager to reclaim its form. Feral being injured made things easier, as her quirk was probably developing regenerative capabilities. Adaptation was such a marvelous quirk, he thought.
"Silence. What I want to know is why the one we were transporting looks like she had been transforming during the whole trip." The onboard monitors showed no significant brain activity related to her quirk. It defied all logic—how was she controlling her powers without brain signals?
As Shihai observed the eerily precise coordination between Drekus and the Feral clones, a realization dawned on her like a cold, bitter wind.
"He's planned it all," Shihai muttered to herself, eyes narrowing in a mix of realization and disdain. The revelation struck her with a twofold impact. First, the meticulous synchronization between Drekus and the Ferals indicated a shared consciousness, as if they were extensions of the same mind. Second, and more unsettling, was the understanding that her actions, her deviation from the planned route, were anticipated and manipulated.
The initial rampage of Feral, halted by the intervention of Impakt and Hijack, had been a calculated ploy.
Shihai, driven by a relentless thirst for power, launched herself forward with an unnerving burst of speed. Her form blurred as she closed the distance, closing in on Drekus and the two Ferals.
Drekus, with his steel-feathered wings unfurled, took to the air. The original Feral, a monstrous silhouette, matched Shihai's charge with a ground-shaking roar.
Shihai's fists blurred in rapid succession, each strike aimed with lethal precision. Her strength was enough to break through Feral's scales. The replicated Feral closed in, claws swiping through the air, glinting silver under the moonlight. Shihai dodged them, her reaction time fast enough for her to even notice how the scales on the replica's right arm were more developed. She realized that the entire being had been grown out of a severed limb.
Drekus flanked Shihai, but the Enforcer Captain was still too fast for him. She turned around, her strike a blur of motion that broke through Drekus' stel feahter defense and almost caved his face in, sending him flying to the beach that was to the side of the road.
Shihai's assault was a tempest of raw power, an overwhelming force that tore through the coordinated defense of Drekus and the Ferals.
The Ferals, once a fearsome duo, found themselves outmatched by the sheer ferocity of Shihai's assault.
Drekus, usually a formidable combatant, struggled to keep up.
Shihai delivered a bone-crushing kick to the replica Feral, but grabbed onto her before she was sent flying like Drekus did. The Enforcer grabbed onto the arm that the Feral was grown from, and ripped it from her body, tossing it aside.
Name:「Shihai Owari」
Quirk:「Death Empowerment」
Type: Mutant
Description: This quirk enhances the user's strength, speed, and durability in direct correlation to the number of living beings that perished in their vicinity. The potency of the boost is amplified if the user is the agent of death.
The synergy between Drekus and the Ferals had dissolved into disarray. Something had transpired within the shadows, Sandatsu ahd broken the control his Blood Puppet quirk had over the villains. Shihai, sensing the sudden shift in the dynamics, seized the opportunity to press her advantage.
With newfound vigor, Shihai lunged at the disoriented Ferals. The original, still recovering from the brutal assault, attempted to stand, but Shihai's powerful kick sent her sprawling.
Drekus, battered and wingless, tried to rally the Ferals for a coordinated assault, but someone stood in his way. Envigor.
Desperate, the replica feral tackled Shihai with all her might, making both of them fall the beach on the side of the road. Her scaled tail sinuously coiled around Shihai, aimed to crush the life out of her adversary. Her jaw also unhinged. The bite, intended as a macabre kiss of death, sought to engulf Shihai's face, to suffocate, crush bone and tear flesh.
Using her remaining arm, the villain dragged both of them deeper into the water, struggling to keep Shihai restrained.
In an act of defiance, Shihai seized the replica Feral by her scaled neck, forcibly pulling her face away from hers, and then forcing her head underwater. Shihai's strength, augmented by the countless lives sacrificed near her, clashed with the replica Feral's raw, frenzied power.
Shihai saw how the villain's neck was slowly developing gills. A weak point.
Her hand closed around the replica Feral's scaled throat. The still developing gills made the muscular structure of her neck weaker. The rythmic sound of the waves was shattered by a guttural snarl—the last desperate cry of an imitation predator facing its demise.
Shihai stood over the fallen villain. Uninjured.
Shihai's gaze shifted from the conquered villain to the road. The original Feral didn't join the fight, she was staring at something on the sky.
A figure, cloaked in ragged fabric. The moonlight clung to the silhouette.
The figure descended, the cape billowing like a tattered banner.
"You runaway..." she murmured, her voice barely audible.
The figure landed gracefully, the cape settling around.
As the moonlight revealed his face, Shihai's breath hitched.
Without a moment's hesitation, she lunged forward, her voice tearing through the night. Her words, distorted by a deranged outburst, sliced through the air like a blade. Her movements were a torrent of unrestrained fury, driven by a conviction that bordered on madness.
"You... SACRIFICE!"
Then she realized. Those eyes. She hadn't seen them in a long time.