Chapter 9: The New Predators
It was business as usual in Musutafu.
For the people of the city, that meant another ordinary day of extraordinary danger. Sirens wailed through the streets as four Pro-Heroes ducked behind whatever cover they could find, narrowly avoiding a barrage of brilliant blue optic blasts that carved through the air with enough force to make nearby windows rattle. Their opponent stood several meters away, both hands raised as beams of concentrated energy erupted from his eyes, forcing the Heroes to scatter while several of his partners hurried into the bank behind him. The Optic Villain wasn't trying to win this fight. He was buying his associates time to empty the vault.
"Keep your heads down!" One of the Heroes shouted.
"Like we needed you to tell us!" Another shouted back as another blue beam scorched the pavement where he had been standing.
Death Arms was having considerably less trouble staying on his feet than his colleagues. The Punching Hero had planted himself behind a damaged vehicle, watching the Villain carefully while his enormous arms flexed beneath his costume. A blast had already struck the abandoned car, leaving its bodywork warped and battered, though it remained intact enough to be useful. Death Arms glanced at it, then at the Optic Villain, and a mischievous idea seemed to cross his mind. Without drawing attention to himself, he grabbed the damaged automobile by its frame and hauled it overhead as though it were nothing more than an oversized piece of luggage. The Optic Villain remained focused on the other Heroes, completely unaware of what was about to come flying his way.
"Hey! Look out!" One of the Villain's partners suddenly screamed from the bank entrance.
The warning came a heartbeat too late.
Death Arms hurled the car.
The massive vehicle sailed through the street, rotating as it traveled, and the Optic Villain finally turned toward the incoming projectile. His eyes widened as he saw the entire automobile bearing down on him. Instinctively, he unleashed a pair of brilliant blue beams. The optic blasts struck the center of the vehicle, slicing through its metal frame with frightening precision. The automobile split cleanly into two halves, each section continuing forward under its own momentum before crashing onto the pavement on either side of the Villain. Dust and fragments of glass scattered across the street, though remarkably, the two halves of the vehicle landed in such a way that neither struck him.
Death Arms was already moving.
"Gotcha!"
The Punching Hero lunged through the dust cloud and swung one enormous fist directly at the Optic Villain's head. It was a sucker punch, pure and simple, timed to exploit the brief distraction caused by the vehicle. The Villain barely had enough time to react. He threw both arms upward, crossing them in front of his face just as Death Arms' fist slammed into his guard with a thunderous impact. The pavement beneath their feet cracked from the force, and the Optic Villain was driven backward several centimeters.
Yet he remained standing.
"You're kidding me." Death Arms' expression changed immediately.
The Optic Villain groaned, his arms trembling from the impact, yet he refused to fall. His forearms were clearly hurting, and his boots had been pushed backward across the asphalt, though the sheer force of Death Arms' punch had failed to break through his defense. For someone whose Quirk seemed primarily suited to projecting energy from his eyes, his physical durability was completely out of place. Death Arms had fought plenty of sturdy Villains before, although most of them possessed obvious physical mutations or reinforcement abilities. This man looked almost entirely ordinary beneath his costume.
"Not bad…" the Optic Villain growled before smiling. "Now it's my turn."
Death Arms' eyes widened as the Villain lowered his arms and fired. The optic blast erupted from almost point-blank range, striking Death Arms squarely in the torso. The concussive force was tremendous, launching the Punching Hero through the air like a projectile. He crashed into the street near the other three Heroes, rolling several times before finally coming to a stop amid chunks of broken pavement. Under normal circumstances, an attack like that would have been lethal. Death Arms' incredible physical resilience was the only reason he remained conscious at all, though even he needed several precious seconds to recover.
"Death Arms!" One of the Heroes shouted.
"I'm… fine…" Death Arms grunted when he clearly wasn't.
The other Heroes weren't faring much better. Their attention had been divided between protecting civilians, dealing with the optic blasts, and preventing the Villain's partners from escaping with the stolen money. Now that their strongest fighter had been knocked aside, the Optic Villain finally had the opening he had been waiting for. He raised his head and aimed directly at the scattered Heroes, blue energy gathering around his eyes with increasing intensity. His partners were almost finished inside the bank. If he could eliminate the Heroes now, the escape would become considerably easier.
"Stay down," He warned. "This'll hurt less."
The blast fired.
A green blur suddenly swung into the street.
Something descended from above with such speed that the Heroes barely registered it before the newcomer landed directly between them and the incoming attack. The optic blast struck him squarely in the chest.
Nothing happened. The blue energy washed over Webjack's body before dispersing harmlessly into the surrounding air. Webjack remained standing.
The Vigilante looked down at his chest, brushed a little dust from his Geno-Fiber suit, and glanced toward the Optic Villain as though he had merely been inconvenienced by someone throwing a tennis ball at him.
"Huh," Webjack said. "You."
The Optic Villain froze.
"Seriously? You again?" Webjack tilted his head.
Recognition dawned across the Villain's face, quickly followed by irritation. He remembered this masked Vigilante. He remembered the grocery store. He remembered how Webjack had appeared from nowhere, invisible to the naked eye, and proceeded to dismantle him and his previous crew before the police could even arrive. That humiliation had stayed with him, festering like an untreated wound. Now the same green-and-black figure was standing in front of him, completely unharmed after taking one of his strongest attacks directly to the chest.
"Damn pest!" the Optic Villain snarled.
"That comment is almost more tolerable than being wrongly called a bug."
"One time dealing with you was enough." The Villain's face twisted with rage.
"Should've restarted your life with a more honorable career as an eye surgeon," Webjack casually rolled one shoulder.
That was enough, and the Optic Villain charged.
"What a letdown." Webjack sighed, and the two collided in the middle of the street.
The Optic Villain threw the first punch, driving his fist toward Webjack's face with considerably more speed and strength than he had demonstrated during their previous encounter. Webjack leaned aside, allowing the punch to whistle past his mask before answering with a punch of his own. The Villain blocked it, staggered, and immediately retaliated with another strike. Their fists collided several times in rapid succession, each impact producing a sharp crack that echoed between the surrounding buildings. The Optic Villain was stronger than Webjack remembered, and his movements were noticeably more disciplined. He had clearly spent the intervening time improving himself.
"Okay!" Webjack exclaimed as he blocked another punch. "You must've been hitting the gym."
He ducked under another swing.
"Actually, forget the gym. Did you move into it?"
"Shut up!" The Villain roared and swung again.
"Sleeping there, too? That's dedication." Webjack slipped around the attack.
The Optic Villain snarled and charged again, throwing everything he had into a powerful hook. Webjack simply stepped forward instead of backward, closing the distance until they were practically chest-to-chest. The Villain's fist sailed past his head, leaving him completely exposed. Webjack's response was immediate.
"Here's your problem."
He slammed his forehead into the Villain's face. The impact was devastating. The Optic Villain's eyes crossed as his body went limp, collapsing onto the pavement before he could even realize what had happened. Webjack straightened himself and rubbed his forehead through his mask.
"Still works."
Across the street, another battle had already concluded.
The Optic Villain's four partners had barely made it out of the bank before a white-and-black blur tore through them. Kat-astrophe moved with an almost playful viciousness, weaving between their attacks while her retractable claws flashed beneath the sunlight. One Villain swung at her, only for her to duck underneath his arm and rake her claws across his costume. Another tried to grab her from behind, though she twisted around and left three ugly scratches across his chest before kicking his legs out from under him. Within moments, all four criminals were sprawled across the pavement, groaning and clutching their injured costumes.
"Aw, that was disappointing," Kat-astrophe complained.
She flicked the bloodless scratches on her claws clean with a casual movement before glancing toward Webjack.
"Are you done over there?"
"Yep."
Webjack pointed toward the unconscious Optic Villain.
"He's taking a nap."
"How considerate." Kat-astrophe smiled.
The four Pro-Heroes had finally begun recovering, though their expressions changed when they saw the two Vigilantes standing together. None of them moved to intercept them. Their colleagues had tried that before. Several had learned the hard way that chasing Webjack was an excellent method of getting themselves beaten, humiliated, or buried beneath several tons of rubble. Nobody present wanted to become another cautionary tale.
Nobody wanted to end up like Endeavor.
"Should we… arrest them?" One of the Heroes asked hesitantly.
"Do you want to be the one who tries?" Death Arms asked rhetorically.
The first Hero glanced at the unconscious Optic Villain, then at the distant skyline.
"No…"
"Smart choice." Webjack looked over his shoulder.
Kat-astrophe laughed as the pair disappeared into the city.
Their escape was as practiced as ever. Webjack swung between buildings while Kat-astrophe followed alongside him, using her own equipment and agility to keep pace until they reached one of their prepared routes beneath the city. The pair eventually slipped into an underground tunnel that had been carefully selected because there was no practical way for anyone to follow them without knowing exactly where the entrance was. Once they were certain nobody had tracked them, they settled down to catch their breath.
"That was fun while it lasted." Kat-astrophe stretched her arms above her head. She dropped into a crouch and leaned against the tunnel wall. "The dumb ones are always the easiest to catch off guard. Still, that whole thing felt like a waste of time."
"I don't know about that." Webjack crouched nearby. "I think we might've stumbled onto something worthwhile."
"You really think so?" Toga raised an eyebrow.
"I wasn't joking earlier. I've dealt with that guy before."
Webjack reached into the utility belt underneath the suit and pulled out a phone. It wasn't his. He had taken it from the Optic Villain before leaving the scene, and now the screen illuminated the underside of his mask as he began examining it after placing his gadget, the Spider-Jack, to hack it.
"Escaping from jail is troublesome enough," He continued, scrolling through the device. "People don't usually come out of prison significantly stronger unless they've been doing something besides sitting around waiting for release."
"Maybe the creep was using some new steroid." Kat-astrophe crouched beside him.
"Maybe." Izuku's fingers continued moving across the phone's screen. "Only one way to find out."
Toga leaned closer, peering at the device.
"You're going to snoop through his phone?"
"Obviously."
"That's illegal."
"Coming from you, that's adorable."
"Yeah, but I'm the bad girl, and you're my goody two-shoes." She grinned.
Izuku continued searching through the phone, checking messages, photographs, call logs, files, and anything else that might reveal what had changed about their former opponent. His expression gradually became more serious as he considered what they had witnessed. The man's Quirk hadn't suddenly become more dangerous; his entire body had somehow become capable of enduring punishment that should have overwhelmed him. He had stood his ground against Death Arms when his Optic Quirk offered no obvious physical resistance, and that discrepancy bothered Izuku more than the Villain's strength itself.
"The way he stood against Death Arms…" Izuku murmured. "That wasn't normal."
"You think somebody upgraded him?" Kat-astrophe's playful expression faded slightly.
"Maybe." Izuku stared at the phone. "Or maybe there's something else going on."
His thoughts immediately returned to another individual. There was another Villain who had demonstrated strength and combat ability far beyond what his Quirk should have allowed.
Stain.
The Hero Killer had always been dangerous, although Izuku had never been convinced that his Bloodcurdle Quirk alone explained everything about him. His physical conditioning, speed, reflexes, endurance, and sheer determination had placed him on an entirely different level from most people who possessed similarly specialized abilities. Stain had been frightening precisely because he fought as though his body had been forged for combat.
Now Izuku was beginning to wonder if Stain and the Optic Villain had more in common than anyone realized.
-)(-
The information extracted from the Optic Villain's phone led Webjack to a rundown apartment building in one of Musutafu's less savory neighborhoods. The place looked exactly like the sort of building someone would choose if they wanted to disappear into the city's less desirable corners: cracked concrete, stained walls, poorly maintained windows, and enough grime accumulated around the entrance to suggest that cleaning was considered an optional luxury. According to the phone's data, the Optic Villain had been living here for roughly a week since escaping prison, keeping his head down while preparing for his next criminal ventures. Izuku watched the building from a nearby rooftop for several minutes before slipping down to street level, climbing the fire escape, and quietly entering through one of the apartment windows.
"Well, this place certainly has character," Izuku muttered.
The apartment itself was surprisingly decent.
Izuku paused just inside the window and looked around with mild disbelief. The furniture was inexpensive, though it was in good condition. The floors had clearly been cleaned recently, the counters were free of clutter, and there wasn't a suspicious smell coming from anywhere. Considering the state of the building outside, the apartment was almost shockingly well-maintained. The Optic Villain had apparently understood something that many criminals seemed to forget: having a criminal record didn't mean you had to live like an animal. Izuku glanced toward the neatly arranged kitchen and gave an approving nod beneath his mask.
"Good to know there are still Villains who understand the importance of hygiene."
He closed the window behind him and began searching.
His investigation quickly revealed that the Optic Villain had been considerably busier than simply hiding from the authorities. On a table tucked beneath several newspapers, Izuku discovered two sets of detailed plans. He carefully lifted them and examined the contents, finding diagrams of buildings, marked entrances and exits, security schedules, escape routes, and notes regarding the expected amount of money available at each location. There were plans for two separate heists, apparently intended to take place after the bank robbery. Izuku stared at the documents for several seconds before slowly lowering them.
"Two more jobs?" He looked toward the apartment's empty living room. "Talk about ambitious."
The bank robbery hadn't merely been an isolated crime. It had been the first step in a much larger operation, and the Optic Villain had apparently expected to continue his criminal career immediately after escaping prison. Izuku photographed the plans with a small device before returning them exactly where he had found them. The heists were interesting, although they weren't what he had come looking for. His instincts told him there was something else hidden in the apartment, something that explained how a man with an energy-based Quirk had somehow developed enough physical durability to withstand a direct punch from Death Arms.
Two minutes later, Izuku was searching the bedroom closet.
"Come on…" He muttered. "There's got to be something."
He checked the shelves first, finding nothing beyond clothing and a few ordinary personal effects. He checked the walls, the ceiling, and even the back of the closet itself. Nothing immediately stood out. Eventually, Izuku crouched and placed one hand against the floor. His heightened senses picked up something unusual beneath the surface. The material sounded different when he tapped it, and the faint hollow resonance immediately caught his attention.
"Hmm." He tapped again. "Definitely not normal."
Izuku removed several pieces of flooring and discovered a reinforced metal panel concealed underneath. A closer examination revealed the outline of a floor safe, professionally installed despite the surrounding apartment's decidedly unprofessional condition. He pressed his fingers against the metal and tested its strength.
"Well, that's one way to hide something."
The lock was designed to resist conventional tampering, though Izuku wasn't particularly interested in conventional methods. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, planted his feet against the floor, and applied his enhanced strength. Metal groaned beneath his grip. The mechanism resisted for several seconds before finally giving way with a sharp metallic crack.
The safe popped open.
"This is new." Izuku crouched beside it and examined the interior.
He ran his fingers along the edges, inspecting the workmanship. The safe hadn't been installed when the building was constructed. The surrounding material showed signs of much more recent modification, and there was no indication that the landlord had been involved. Someone had deliberately installed it inside the apartment and gone to considerable trouble to conceal it. That meant whatever was inside wasn't something the Optic Villain wanted discovered by his landlord, his partners, or anyone else who might have had legitimate reasons to enter the apartment.
"Now we're talking." Izuku smiled beneath his mask.
Inside the safe sat a peculiar container covered in strange markings. The symbols immediately caught his attention. They weren't Japanese, English, or any other writing system he could recognize at a glance. The patterns appeared almost ceremonial, resembling markings associated with one of the many cultures of Africa. Izuku carefully lifted the container and examined it from every angle before noticing several glass vessels stored beside it.
Each contained a red substance.
It was thick enough to cling to the glass when the containers were moved, possessing a deep crimson color that almost seemed too vibrant to be natural. Izuku's instincts immediately told him that whatever it was, it wasn't something he wanted touching his skin. He carefully placed the containers beside the peculiar box before noticing a book resting underneath them.
Its cover was old. The title was written clearly across the front.
Spirit of the Hunt.
"Oh, we're definitely getting somewhere now." Izuku stared at it.
He gathered everything from the safe and created a large temporary bag from his Psi-Webs, weaving the emerald material into a reinforced container capable of holding the glass vessels, the strange box, and the book without damaging any of them. Once everything was secured, he concealed the evidence of his entry as best he could and slipped back through the window.
The return journey to the Spider Sanctuary was uneventful.
When Izuku finally entered the underground headquarters, he found that Kat-astrophe had already arrived. She had apparently decided that waiting for him was less interesting than exploring the place, and judging by the way she was lounging comfortably inside, she had made herself remarkably at home considering she'd only been there for a single day.
"You're late," Toga called.
"I was investigating."
"You could've told me."
"You would've followed me."
"I hate investigation."
"That's why I didn't tell you." Izuku sighed.
Izuku removed his mask and carried the web-made bag toward one of the Sanctuary's more sophisticated sections. Unlike the living areas assembled from salvaged furniture and appliances, this portion of the headquarters looked unmistakably like the laboratory of someone who took engineering very seriously. Computer banks filled several workstations, specialized equipment lined the walls, and various machines hummed quietly in the background. Izuku had built or modified most of them himself, using scavenged technology, salvaged components, and his own understanding of science to create equipment that could perform analyses far beyond anything he had been able to accomplish when he first became Webjack.
"What'd you find?" Toga followed behind him.
"I don't know yet." He placed one of the glass containers into a specialized machine. "But it's something worth putting effort into hiding from the rest of the world, so it has to be worth the investigation."
The device was one of Izuku's more sophisticated creations, a chemical analysis system capable of examining unknown compounds and comparing their molecular composition against its database. It could identify common substances almost immediately, though stranger materials naturally took longer. Izuku sealed the container inside the machine, activated the analysis sequence, and watched as the equipment began scanning the mysterious red substance.
Three minutes later, the machine chimed.
"That was fast," Toga remarked.
"Yeah." Izuku stared at the results. His expression changed. "Too fast."
The initial data was almost incomprehensible.
The machine had identified numerous organic compounds within the substance, along with molecular structures suggesting that at least some of its ingredients originated from natural materials found in jungle environments. Plant-based compounds appeared to be present, although the exact species were impossible to identify. There were traces of biological material as well, though nothing matched any known compound in Izuku's database with enough certainty to provide a definitive identification.
It was as though the substance had been assembled from nature itself, then altered by something that science didn't yet have a proper name for.
"Can you identify it?" Toga asked.
"Not exactly." Izuku enlarged the results on the monitor. "I've got pieces of it. Natural compounds, biological components, and some chemical structures I've never seen before. The database can't establish a reliable origin."
"So you have no idea what it is."
"I have an idea of what it does." Izuku continued examining the data. "That's almost more interesting."
The substance behaved like a steroid, although calling it merely a steroid would have been a massive understatement. Its chemical composition appeared specifically designed to target multiple systems within the human body, enhancing muscular development, physical strength, endurance, recovery, and several other biological functions simultaneously. The effects weren't limited to muscle tissue, either. The substance appeared capable of altering neurological processes, increasing sensory perception, and accelerating the brain's processing of information.
Even time perception appeared to be affected.
"That's… insane." Izuku's eyes narrowed.
"Good insane or bad insane?" Toga leaned over his shoulder.
"Both." He scrolled through the results. "The body gets stronger. The senses become sharper. Reaction time improves. The brain processes information faster, which probably makes the user perceive everything around them as slower."
"Like you?"
"Hardly," Izuku shook his head. "My senses are all psionic. This is all about enhancing the already existing ones."
He continued reading.
"This is chemical enhancement. It's forcing the body to adapt."
That was where things became considerably darker. The substance wasn't merely an enhancement drug. It was a biological gamble. The strain it placed on the human body was enormous, and anyone whose physiology couldn't tolerate the changes would suffer catastrophic consequences. The compound pushed muscles, organs, nerves, and the brain far beyond their normal limits, essentially demanding that the entire body transform itself to survive the enhancement.
"There's a catch," Izuku said.
"There's always a catch." Toga looked at him.
"People can die from this."
"That checks out," She mused.
"The stronger the enhancement, the harder the body has to work to support it. If someone's physiology isn't compatible, the strain becomes fatal."
"So it's poison."
"By all accounts, it should only be lethal and nothing else." Izuku stared at the data. "It's a steroid and a poison at the same time."
That alone would have made the substance fascinating, although there was another detail that disturbed Izuku even more. The enhancements weren't temporary.
The chemical effects appeared to establish permanent biological changes rather than simply stimulating the body for several hours. A person would apparently need to consume the substance more than once to reach its full potential, with subsequent doses continuing the transformation. Those unable to tolerate the process would fail the compatibility test in the most literal sense possible.
Those who survived, however… would become something else. The potential was staggering.
This wasn't merely a performance-enhancing drug. It was a method of transforming ordinary Humans into permanent Proto-Superhumans. No Quirk factor. No inherited mutation. No years of training are required to develop an unusual ability. Just a substance capable of forcing the human body to evolve through an extraordinarily dangerous chemical process.
A horrifying miracle.
"Just like the Spider." Izuku stared at the red substance through the glass container.
His fingers unconsciously touched his chest. He remembered the strange red spider that had emerged from the rainbow-colored portal in his bedroom nearly a year ago. He remembered the bite, the confusion, and the inexplicable transformation that had followed. He had spent months trying to understand what had happened to him, yet here was another substance capable of creating something that shouldn't have existed naturally.
The comparison was impossible to ignore.
Izuku reached for the old book.
"Maybe this can tell us something." He opened Spirit of the Hunt and began reading.
It didn't take long to discover that the book wasn't a scientific journal, medical text, or ordinary historical document. It appeared to be something closer to a religious text—a kind of bible belonging to Hunters. Its pages described hunting as though it were a sacred tradition, with passages devoted to tracking, pursuing, killing, and proving one's worth through the conquest of prey. The philosophy presented throughout the book treated the act of hunting as an almost noble pursuit.
Izuku stared at one particular passage for several seconds.
"So… poaching." He turned the page. "With a religion attached."
Another page.
"And apparently, being a poacher is a high honor."
"Sounds deep." Toga peered over his shoulder.
"Super deep." Izuku flipped through several more pages. "Deep enough to reach the bottom of my patience."
The book was enormous. More than nine hundred pages filled with history, philosophy, rituals, descriptions of hunts, and references to individuals whose names appeared repeatedly throughout the text. Izuku had neither the patience nor the time to read the entire thing cover to cover, particularly when he had already identified enough contextual clues to understand that the book was tied directly to whatever organization or tradition had produced the mysterious red substance.
He began skimming. Names. Places. References. More names. Then one caught his attention. Izuku stopped. He read it again. His eyes widened. The pieces suddenly began sliding into place. The strange substance. The Hunters. The book.
The Optic Villain's impossible physical enhancement. The mysterious markings. The references to hunting. It all pointed toward one family. One name. One extraordinarily dangerous hornet's nest that Izuku had just kicked open without realizing it.
"Kravinoff!" Izuku's voice echoed throughout the Spider Sanctuary.
"What?!" Toga nearly jumped.
Izuku stared at the book, disbelief written across his face.
"You've got to be kidding me." He looked toward the container holding the crimson substance. "This isn't just some random steroid. We just found Kraven's Legacy."
Not much could shake Izuku Midoriya anymore. Becoming Webjack had taken care of that. During his first month as a Vigilante, there had been moments when the reality of what he had chosen finally caught up with him, leaving him trembling in the dark while the sound of Pro-Heroes searching for him echoed somewhere beyond the walls.
A few panic attacks had followed, each one leaving him exhausted and angry at himself for being afraid. Being hunted by people he had once admired wasn't pleasant, and being branded a Villain by the society he had once wanted to protect hurt more than he cared to admit. Eventually, however, fear became another problem to solve rather than something capable of stopping him.
Web-swinging had helped. Something was intoxicating about launching himself between buildings with nothing beneath his feet except open air, feeling the Psi-Web tighten, release, and send him soaring over entire city blocks. Every successful swing made the world feel a little smaller. Every fight he survived made the danger seem a little less frightening. Izuku had deliberately created the flirtatious, wisecracking persona of Webjack for precisely that reason. If he acted as though nothing scared him, eventually he could convince himself that nothing did. The mask wasn't simply something that concealed his identity; it concealed the boy underneath it, too.
Then came the Spider-Eraser. The name still needed work.
The device had nevertheless accomplished exactly what he needed it to do. With a single activation, he had been able to nullify the Quirk of someone vastly more powerful than himself, allowing him to stand against All Might without being instantly overwhelmed by the Symbol of Peace's superior physical abilities. That victory had fundamentally altered Izuku's perception of his own capabilities. If he could contend with All Might, then what did he truly have to fear?
Almost nothing.
He felt invincible.
Which was precisely why the discovery of the Kravinoffs bothered him so much.
Izuku stared at the open copy of Spirit of the Hunt, his expression gradually becoming more serious as the implications settled over him. Until now, he had believed he was investigating a criminal who had somehow acquired an unusual enhancement drug. It had been a mystery, certainly, although one he expected to solve with enough digging. Now the evidence pointed toward something far older and considerably more disturbing. He no longer felt as though he were confiscating contraband from some ambitious crook.
He felt as though he were hunting the ghost of a monster.
"What's wrong?" Toga noticed.
Izuku didn't immediately answer. His fingers remained resting against the old book.
"Do you remember Stain?"
"As if I could ever forget Stainy."
"If he has this stuff…" Izuku's voice became quieter. "I might lose if we have a round two."
"Well, it's not like Heroes are meant to win against the Hero Killer," Toga joked.
"Thanks for the encouragement." Izuku sighed.
"Just being honest." She shrugged. "But who or what is Kravinoff?"
Izuku closed the book halfway and leaned against the workstation. He needed to explain what he had found, although putting the history into words felt strangely difficult. The information sounded almost unbelievable even inside his own head. He had spent so much of his life studying Quirks, Heroes, Villains, and the history of Hero Society that he had developed a fairly good understanding of how absurd the world could become. This story, however, belonged to a much darker chapter of that history.
"The worst supervillain family Africa ever produced." Izuku turned the book around and pointed toward several passages. "Decades ago, probably around the time All Might was still an infant, Africa went through a period that made the rest of the world's Villain problems look almost tame. Criminal empires were spreading across the continent, and among the worst of them were the Kravinoffs."
He paused.
"They weren't originally supervillains. Before Quirks manifested, they were a family of poachers." Izuku's expression hardened. "Not ordinary poachers, either. They were some of the most experienced and ruthless hunters in the world. Hunting wasn't simply their profession. It was their religion."
"So the creepy hunting bible belonged to them?" Toga glanced at the book.
"They're the ones who wrote this vile crap."
The Kravinoffs had built their fortune through an obsession with hunting that had long since crossed the boundary between sport and cruelty. They traveled across countries in pursuit of rare animals, treating every kill as an accomplishment and every difficult hunt as a sacred trial. When Quirks eventually began appearing in humanity, the family discovered an entirely new world of potential prey. Animals and Humans alike were suddenly capable of possessing abilities that made traditional hunting almost laughably easy by comparison.
"The Kravinoffs didn't see that as a reason to stop. They saw it as an invitation. Their obsession changed once Quirks became widespread," Izuku explained. "They started hunting people."
"From an evil point of view, I suppose all Heteromorphs count as animals," Toga speculated.
"Not just them. They hunted every person with a Quirk, which wasn't as widespread as it is now," Izuku tapped the page. "They believed Quirks made better prey. Stronger, faster, stranger. Every ability gave them something new to overcome."
The family traveled farther and farther in search of increasingly powerful targets. Their reputation spread throughout Africa as their hunting expeditions became more violent and their ambitions more extreme. They didn't simply kill people with Quirks; they sought out the strongest individuals they could find, treating their abilities as trophies in everything but name. Their obsession allegedly extended to Quirked Animals as well, and many historians believe the Kravinoffs were responsible for the disappearance of countless species with Quirks.
"That's supposedly why Quirked Animals are so rare now," Izuku continued.
"Aside from UA's Dean?" Toga frowned.
"Exactly."
The existence of a sapient Quirked Animal such as Dean Nezu was extraordinarily unusual, although Izuku had never questioned why. The historical records surrounding Quirked Animals were already sparse, and the Kravinoffs' activities provided a horrifying possible explanation. They had traveled across the continent and beyond, hunting rare creatures until entire populations were reduced or disappeared altogether.
Then one Kravinoff emerged above the rest.
"The source of so much destruction is mostly attributed to one hunter. Sergei Kravinoff. Better known as Kraven. He was the worst of them," Izuku said, turning another page. "Kraven was the one who decided hunting Metahumans was the ultimate challenge. He pushed the family toward it and turned their obsession into something much larger."
"And everybody hated him?" Toga looked at the name.
"Hate is too simple a word to describe the vitriol Africa held against him." Izuku's eyes remained fixed on the page. "Eventually, the population, including other Villains, agreed on one thing. If justice was ever going to prevail, the Kravinoffs had to die."
The statement would have sounded extreme by modern standards. Izuku understood that. Hero Society had spent generations establishing laws, institutions, prisons, and systems designed to prevent ordinary people from taking justice into their own hands.
The world described in these records had been different. Justice had been considerably grayer, particularly when dealing with criminals powerful enough to destabilize entire regions. Consequently, the idea of governments and Heroes deciding that an entire criminal dynasty needed to be eliminated didn't surprise Izuku nearly as much as it probably should have.
What surprised him was how long the Kravinoffs survived. Africa's Heroes fought them. Military forces pursued them. Government agencies hunted them.
Nothing worked.
"Kraven was apparently impossible to predict," Izuku explained. "He was cunning enough to stay ahead of entire organizations, and ruthless enough to do things no sane person would consider."
"Like what?"
Izuku hesitated.
"The African Union considered using a nuclear weapon."
"Oh, that's bad." Toga's eyes widened.
"Very bad. And the plan never happened."
"Kraven somehow learned about it and responded by eliminating every official within the African Union responsible for authorizing or coordinating the operation. Every last one of them. With the people capable of ordering the strike gone, the nuclear option died alongside them. It was one of the most infamous examples of Kraven's ability to stay ahead of governments that possessed vastly greater resources than he did."
"The guy was insane," Toga muttered.
"That's only scratching the surface." Izuku looked back toward the book. "His Quirk wasn't even offensive."
That detail had always made the historical accounts surrounding Kraven particularly bizarre. His Quirk had reportedly been considered weak and embarrassing when he was a child, offering none of the obvious combat advantages possessed by many of the abilities that surrounded him. Yet somehow, as an adult, Sergei Kravinoff had become stronger than a grizzly bear, faster than a cheetah, and more cunning than a red fox. His body was a weapon despite his Quirk seemingly having little to do with combat.
"People didn't understand how he did it," Izuku said. "They started looking for an explanation."
"And?"
"There were rumors." Izuku's expression darkened. "Kraven supposedly created a Super Soldier Serum. Something that gave him his strength, speed, senses, and physical abilities despite having a weak Quirk. It was named Baraka."
The name of that substance appeared repeatedly throughout the old accounts.
The name is a Swahili/Arabic-derived term associated with blessing, divine grace, or blessing bestowed upon someone. The terminology itself was irrelevant compared to what the legend claimed the substance could accomplish. At the time, however, rumors about experimental Quirk-enhancing substances weren't dismissed as easily as they would be today. Quirk Science was still developing; its understanding of the human body was considerably less advanced, and governments lacked the comprehensive knowledge they possess in the modern era.
"Nowadays, everyone would call the serum story ridiculous," Izuku said. "Back then, people actually took it seriously."
"And did it exist?"
"I think that's exactly what I found in that apartment." Izuku stared at the red substance inside the glass container. "The story of the Kravinoffs ended in a manner almost as horrifying as it had begun."
Kraven's hunger for increasingly powerful prey eventually reached its logical conclusion. There was nowhere else for his obsession to go. He had hunted animals. He had hunted Quirked Animals. He had hunted Humans. He had hunted Metahumans. Eventually, the greatest prey left to him was the one thing he had spent his entire life surrounded by.
His own family.
"The Heroes didn't wipe them out," Izuku said quietly. "Kraven did."
The Kravinoff family was destroyed by its own patriarch. One by one, its members were killed by the man who had elevated their hunting tradition into something monstrous. By the time the authorities finally arrived, the family that had terrorized an entire continent had effectively annihilated itself.
Almost.
Kraven's body was never found.
He disappeared among the dead, leaving behind no corpse, no definitive proof of his death, and no physical evidence that the mysterious Baraka serum had ever existed. Over time, the story became a historical mystery wrapped in rumor and myth. Without Kraven's body or a surviving sample of the supposed serum, there was no way to determine whether Baraka had ever been real.
Izuku slowly raised the glass container.
"Except…" He looked at the crimson liquid. "We have this."
"You think that's Baraka?" Toga stared at it.
"If Spirit of the Hunt is connected to the Kravinoffs, and this stuff produces permanent physical enhancements, it has to be," Izuku said, placing the container carefully back onto the workstation.
The implications were enormous. Someone had discovered Kraven's Legacy and whatever knowledge had survived the destruction of his family and could transform ordinary people into powerful Non-Quirk Metahumans, and that someone was selling it on Japan's black market.
"I think you're reaching." Toga folded her arms.
"What?" Izuku looked at her.
"You've got an old book about creepy hunters, a red mystery drink, and one strong guy. That's not exactly a straight line to an ancient supervillain."
"I've got more than that."
"Do you?"
"The Optic Villain survived Death Arms' punch."
"He's a strong guy."
"Apart from his Quirk, Stain shouldn't have been a threat to me."
"He's also a strong guy."
"Both are connected to the same pattern."
"Or they're both just strong guys."
Izuku frowned.
"Chasing some dark ghost from Africa sounds like a waste of time." Toga shrugged.
"I need to know."
"You really aren't going to let this go." She stared at him for a moment.
"No." Izuku closed the book and secured it beside the containers. "If Baraka is real and someone is using it in Japan, I need to find them. Baraka cannot be allowed to spread, or Japan might suffer a Kraven of our own."
"And how exactly are we supposed to find a mysterious drug dealer who apparently inherited the secrets of one of history's worst supervillains?"
Izuku thought about it. He had no immediate answer.
Toga watched his expression gradually change as an idea began forming behind his eyes. She knew that look. It was the same expression Izuku wore whenever he found a problem too interesting to abandon. He wasn't going to forget the Kravinoffs. He wasn't going to dismiss Baraka as a coincidence. If the substance really existed, then someone had brought it into Japan, and somebody had to know where it came from.
After a moment, Toga's eyes widened slightly.
"Actually…"
"You know somebody?" Izuku looked toward her.
"Maybe." She smiled.
"That's reassuring." Izuku raised an eyebrow.
"Don't get too excited." Toga leaned against the workstation. "I might know a guy."
-)(-
"Shinso! There you are!"
Emi Fukukado greeted her newest intern with the same infectious enthusiasm she brought to practically everything else in life. The woman known professionally as Ms. Joke practically bounced toward him as he approached, her broad smile impossible to miss beneath her green hair, though Hitoshi Shinso merely offered her a calm stare in return. The student from UA University's General Course had been expecting the Pro-Hero to be energetic, considering her reputation, so her exuberance wasn't particularly surprising. What caught him off guard was how much she seemed to resemble the person who had recommended this internship in the first place. Specifically, her taste in men.
"Good to meet you, Ms. Joke."
"Likewise!" Emi clasped her hands together. "Although I have to admit, this is a little uncanny."
"What's uncanny?" Shinso raised an eyebrow.
"You look suspiciously like my crush." She stared at him for another second.
Shinso's expression remained unchanged.
"Lockdown…?"
"Yep." Emi's smile twitched.
There was an obvious joke sitting right there, practically begging to be made. Shinso had the same perpetually tired expression, unkempt hair, narrow eyes, and general air of someone who would rather be anywhere else than surrounded by cheerful people. The comparison was so blatant that Emi could have spent the next five minutes making jokes about her new intern resembling her crush. Yet, strangely enough, she didn't feel like doing it.
Something about it felt wrong.
Maybe because Aizawa was her colleague and crush, while Shinso was a student who had come to her for serious professional guidance. Comparing the two too heavily might make the entire situation unnecessarily weird.
"So," Emi said, quickly moving past the thought, "A General Course student and aspiring Hero Course transfer?"
"That's me."
"And the student who specifically requested me?"
"Well, it was actually UA's staff"
"All the same, you picked the right Heroine!" Emi's grin returned.
"The nature of your Quirk requires a fighting style like mine. Heroes who rely too much on their power are meant to fall sooner than later. That's why you need to train under someone who understands how to use a mental-based Quirk effectively." Shinso shrugged as though the matter were completely insignificant.
His voice was completely nonchalant.