Smoke curled from the ruins of the battlefield, painting the sky in ashen strokes. The streets that once thrived with life now echoed only with the groans of shattered buildings and the distant cries of the injured. Heroes, both professional and student, staggered through the devastation, some dragging comrades, others limping alone. Stretchers were lined up hastily, bodies covered with white sheets, while the living gave shell-shocked stares into the void. Some called out for missing comrades, their voices hoarse and desperate, while others sat quietly in corners, whispering prayers or clutching personal belongings left behind by friends. A pair of sidekicks huddled around a wounded pro hero, trying to keep him conscious as another team shouted for a medic.
Reiji stood in the rubble, cradling Midoriya's unconscious form. His arms trembled from fatigue, soot streaked his face, and his uniform was torn and bloodstained. Not his own blood—Midoriya's, Bakugo's, the price of this battle. Each breath felt heavier, not just from the smoke, but from the weight of everything they failed to prevent. He turned slightly as Todoroki approached, carrying Bakugo, who was limp and pale but still breathing. Todoroki's face was unreadable, a silent storm behind narrowed eyes, though his hands trembled as he gripped his friend. He stared at Bakugo's bruised face, the dried blood caked along his side, and silently vowed that he wouldn't lose anyone else.
Gigantomachia's roar echoed behind them as rescue teams finally arrived, helicopters hovering low to evacuate the wounded. Hawks, barely standing, supported Best Jeanist, whose uniform was scorched but intact. Tsukuyomi and Yaoyorozu shouted for triage support while helping coordinate the stretchers. The League vanished into the smoke, their silhouettes melting into the burning skyline. The war was over—but the consequences had only begun.
Inside a makeshift hospital on the city's edge, the air was thick with antiseptic and silence. Reiji sat outside the emergency ward, elbows on his knees, shadows pooled beneath his boots like living reflections of his unease. He stared at the floor, not blinking, the bandages across his ribs tight and unyielding. The hallway buzzed faintly with distant monitors and the occasional cry of a patient. Every creak of a stretcher wheel made his head twitch, every beep made his fingers tense.
Behind the curtain, Bakugo fought for his life. Beside him, Midoriya remained unconscious, his vital signs erratic. Nurses moved quietly, murmuring updates to one another. Todoroki stood by the window, staring out at the smoky horizon. His breath fogged the glass, and his hand remained clenched at his side. Occasionally, he glanced at the screen in his hand showing real-time updates on Bakugo's vitals. He said nothing.
"They're alive," Iida said quietly, approaching Reiji. "That's what matters."
Reiji didn't answer. His fingers twitched slightly, shadows shifting beneath his seat like restless spirits. Guilt gnawed at him. He knew they had survived—but at what cost?
"You held him off. You gave us time," Iida continued, placing a hand on Reiji's shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Without you, it could've ended much worse."
"…Not enough," Reiji murmured. "Not enough to stop him."
Todoroki turned slightly, his voice hollow. "And now the world knows."
They all turned when the hospital TV crackled to life. A press conference had begun. Then, Dabi's face filled the screen. Calm, eerie, smiling.
"My name… is Toya Todoroki."
The air thickened. Todoroki's fingers curled into fists. His breath caught in his throat. Iida's eyes widened.
Dabi's voice carried through the speakers. "Everything you believed about heroes… it's a lie."
A montage followed: footage of Endeavor's harsh training, cold glares, the collapse of a family. Civilians screamed. Reporters shouted questions. The broadcast cut to scenes of rioting, glass shattering, citizens throwing rocks at pro hero buildings. Videos flooded social media with civilians berating heroes, graffiti defacing hero statues.
"We trusted them!" someone off-screen shouted. "And they let this happen!"
Endeavor, watching from another hospital room, said nothing. He couldn't. His body was wrapped in gauze, his eyes bloodshot. Tears slipped down his scorched face, quiet and unacknowledged. Fuyumi Todoroki sat beside him, speechless, holding his hand.
Outside, civilians clashed with police and rescue teams. Graffiti marred the walls: "DOWN WITH HEROES." "WE WANT TRUTH." Trash bins burned in the streets. Protests turned violent in some districts. Social media feeds exploded with hashtags questioning the Hero Commission. Pro-hero agencies were being vandalized and looted.
Reiji, still inside, stared at the screen, heart hollow. His fists clenched slowly on his knees, the nails digging into his palms. The screen's flicker reflected in his eyes, but he didn't blink—his mind spiraled between anger and helplessness. A faint chime echoed in his mind—familiar and cold. [System Update: Due to your performance and strategic leadership during the Paranormal Liberation War, you have earned a new reward.] A new interface blinked in front of his eyes, visible only to him. [Reward: Shadow Arsenal – You may now store up to five unique weapons in your shadows and summon them at will. Sync Rate: +5%]. He blinked in surprise. The timing felt cruel, almost mocking, but even in the silence, he knew he'd need it for what was coming. His eyes narrowed slightly as the interface faded. Despite the chaos outside, the system remained calm, calculating.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway before a nurse burst in. Her voice was high and panicked. "Turn it up—something's happening at Tartarus." Behind her, other staff gathered, murmuring with alarm.
The screen shifted.
Red lights blared across camera feeds inside the maximum-security prison. Alarms rang out. Prisoners shouted from behind reinforced cells, guards running across the catwalks. Sirens echoed. The security control room was flooded with error messages.
"Warning: Quirk suppression field failure."
Security guards scrambled. Doors began to click open one by one. One villain grinned as his cell unlocked. Another let out a howl of laughter. Chaos erupted within seconds.
Then the feed cut to black. In the last frame, a silhouette stepped into view. Pale skin. A smirk. Static consumed the screen.
"All For One…" someone whispered behind Reiji. He felt a chill creep down his spine, his breath catching. Shadows flared faintly around his feet, responding to the instinctive tension rising in him.
Reiji rose to his feet. His expression hardened. In the silence that followed, the hallway seemed to grow colder. The war wasn't over—it had only just begun.
To be continued…
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