U.A. Academy – USJ (Unforeseen Simulation Joint)
Upper Entrance Area
The air above the USJ's entrance was thick with dust, smoke, and the sharp tang of ozone.
From the elevated platforms overlooking the central plaza, the remaining U.A. students—those who had not been scattered across the disaster zones by Kurogiri's warp gates—stood clustered together with the arriving pro heroes, watching a battle unfold that defied anything they had been prepared for.
Below them, in the shattered heart of the USJ, three figures moved like forces of nature.
The monster they were fighting was unlike the Nomu All Might had defeated moments earlier. Its grotesque form twisted unnaturally, its flesh splitting and reforming as if alive, jagged seams opening and closing along its body like wounds that refused to stay still. The students could feel it even from here—the pressure of something wrong, something that did not belong in their world.
A Skin Splitter.
Few of the heroes present recognized the creature by name. Fewer still understood what it truly was.
Among the teachers, tension ran high.
Some stood rigid, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—not at the monster, but at the three individuals fighting it.
Lu.
Ciel.
Rena.
Former vigilantes. Members of the infamous Grand Chase.
Their presence alone was enough to stir unease.
"They're still fighting down there," Snipe muttered, adjusting the brim of his cowboy hat as his gaze followed the rapid flashes of motion below. "Are you really certain we should leave this to them?"
Nezu, standing calmly atop the railing with his paws folded behind his back, did not look away from the battlefield.
"Most certainly," the principal replied evenly. "If anything, they are the only ones capable of handling that creature."
Several teachers stiffened.
"Our quirks," Nezu continued, voice soft yet unyielding, "would do little to no lasting damage. Worse—we would risk destabilizing the structure further. Intervention would cause more harm than good."
There was a brief pause before he added, almost gently, "And frankly... I am relieved they arrived when they did. Without them, U.A. might have faced closure for far longer than anyone here would care to imagine."
The weight of his words settled heavily.
Just then, a ripple of movement caught their attention.
Two Ectoplasm clones vaulted up from below with remarkable ease, landing smoothly beside the group. One of them supported a slumped but conscious All Might across his back. With him were four battered students—Midoriya Izuku, Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, and Todoroki Shoto.
"I've retrieved All Might and the students who were with him in the central area," Ectoplasm reported. "My other clones are escorting the remaining students here now."
Nezu nodded approvingly.
"Well done."
Midnight raised an eyebrow, eyes lingering on the clones. "I'm impressed, Ectoplasm. I didn't think you could jump that high."
Before Ectoplasm could respond, a tall, slim man with spiked blond hair and a small brown mustache leaned forward, the speaker around his neck glinting in the light.
"Yeah! I know you've got hops, man—but that was rad!" Present Mic added enthusiastically.
Ectoplasm shook his head slowly. "That... wasn't me."
The heroes blinked.
"A green-haired girl touched my shoulder earlier," he continued, glancing downward. "Next thing I knew, I could jump absurd heights without feeling any impact when I landed."
Their gazes followed his gesture.
Below, Rena was little more than a streak of emerald light.
She circled the Skin Splitter at blistering speed, her bow singing as arrow after arrow slammed into exposed joints, eyes, and seams in its flesh. Each shot was precise, relentless—forcing the creature to react, to turn, to stumble.
All Might's eyes narrowed with recognition.
"Rena-shoujo may have placed [Ventus Grace] upon you."
Ectoplasm stiffened. "So... she used her quirk on me?"
All Might clarified. "Well, something like that. But far more refined."
Before Ectoplasm could respond, All Might shifted slightly, straightening despite his injuries.
"Midoriya-shounen needs medical attention immediately," he said firmly. "Kirishima-shounen—carry him. Bakugo-shounen and Todoroki-shounen, return to your classmates."
"Yes, sir!" Kirishima answered without hesitation.
He carefully lifted Midoriya onto his back, mindful of the boy's injured arm, while Bakugo clicked his tongue irritably and Todoroki gave a brief nod before following.
As the four boys rejoined the waiting students, a wave of relief rippled through the group.
"Kirishima-kun!" Uraraka Ochako rushed forward, her eyes wide with worry. "Is Deku-kun okay?!"
Midoriya managed a weak smile, though pain flickered across his face as he slowly raised his bandaged hand.
"I—I'm alright, Uraraka-san... but—"
Uraraka's relief was immediate, her hands clasping together as she exhaled shakily.
"I'm glad you're all safe, kero," Asui Tsuyu said calmly, though her eyes never left the battle below. "But... who exactly are those three?"
Todoroki followed her gaze.
"All Might said they've saved his life multiple times," he replied evenly. "He also said they're more than capable of handling this."
Below, Ciel moved with brutal efficiency.
He slid beneath a massive swing of the Skin Splitter's arm, pivoted, and drove a crushing kick into its elbow joint. The impact staggered the monster just long enough for him to raise both shotguns.
Two thunderous blasts tore into its abdomen at point-blank range.
The creature howled, flesh rupturing before snapping back together—though slower now.
"But aren't they vigilantes?" Shoji Mezo asked quietly through his mask, as his eyes narrowed. "Why show up if they know they'll be arrested?"
Before anyone could answer, All Might stepped forward.
"Students," he said, voice steady despite his weakened form. "I know you have many questions."
He turned to face them fully.
"But trust me when I say this—those three are the only ones who can defeat that monstrosity."
His gaze sharpened, unwavering.
"If I were to act, my power would risk further destruction. Heroes sometimes must know when not to intervene."
A hush fell over the students.
"I want you all to watch," All Might continued. "Observe carefully. You will see how they fight—not for recognition, not for law... but for resolution."
Below, Lu finally moved.
He stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly as energy gathered around him—raw, ancient, and unmistakably otherworldly.
The students leaned closer to the railing.
And for the first time since the USJ attack began, something else stirred among them.
Not fear.
But awe.
Meanwhile with Ciel and the others
The Central Plaza had been reduced to a broken battlefield.
Cratered concrete, fractured pillars, and scorched terrain bore silent witness to the violence unleashed within the USJ. At its center, the Skin Splitter stood hunched and heaving, its warped flesh knitting together as fast as it was torn apart—yet not fast enough anymore.
High above, Lu cut through the air in wide, controlled arcs.
Arcane sigils flared beneath her boots as she hovered effortlessly, wings of dark energy unfurled behind her. With each flick of her wrists, streams of magic bullets rained down like a storm of blue and violet light, hammering the monster from every angle.
Explosions rippled across its body.
And still—it barely reacted.
The Skin Splitter twisted its head upward, flesh peeling back as it let out a distorted snarl, its regeneration stubbornly undoing much of the damage.
"Tch." Lu clicked her tongue sharply, halting her barrage midair. "I can't even make a dent."
Below her, Ciel sprinted across the plaza, boots skidding against broken stone as he narrowly avoided a slashing limb. His eyes flicked upward for only a second.
"Lu," he called out evenly, voice calm despite the chaos, "stop scattering your fire. Focus on one point."
He reached down mid-stride and ripped a circular manhole cover free from the ground. Dark demonic energy surged along its edges, coating the metal in an eerie blue glow.
With a sharp twist of his torso, Ciel hurled it.
The makeshift weapon spun like a razor-edged disc, carving through the air before slamming into the Skin Splitter's shoulder with a deafening clang. The impact forced the monster to stagger, its balance faltering just long enough.
Lu's eyes narrowed.
"Alright."
She thrust her right hand downward.
"[Shadow Bolt!!]"
A massive arcane circle flared into existence above the Skin Splitter, glowing an intense cobalt blue. The moment Lu snapped her fingers, the circle detonated into motion.
Dozens of massive shadow-spears dropped in rapid succession—not scattered, not wild—but concentrated on a single, brutal impact point.
The plaza shook.
The Skin Splitter screamed.
Flesh tore open under the relentless assault, its regeneration stuttering as the focused barrage overwhelmed it. Black ichor splattered across the ground as the monster reeled backward, limbs flailing in a rare moment of genuine distress.
Rena didn't waste the opening.
She burst forward in a blur of motion, her movements fluid and precise.
"[Spinning Crescent!!]"
Her legs snapped out in two rapid crescent kicks, each infused with compressed wind magic. The strikes landed cleanly, and the follow-up gusts detonated outward, slamming into the Skin Splitter and forcing it further back.
The monster skidded across the plaza, carving deep gouges into the concrete.
"Lu-chan!" Rena called sharply.
Lu nodded once.
Her wings folded inward as she dove.
Mid-descent, her gauntlets materialized in a flash of dark light, locking into place around her forearms. She struck the ground with controlled force, energy rippling outward from the impact point.
Four towering pillars erupted from the plaza floor, forming a tight enclosure around the Skin Splitter.
Ciel's lips curved into a smirk.
"Perfect timing."
He raised one of his guns, demonic energy spiraling into the barrel.
"[Flick Shot!!]"
The trigger snapped.
A single blue bullet screamed forward, ricocheting off one pillar, then another—each impact amplifying its speed and force. The projectile slammed into the Skin Splitter again and again, bouncing relentlessly within the confined space.
The monster roared in agony, its body jerking violently with every strike.
As the assault continued, Lu and Ciel locked eyes.
No words were needed.
They moved in unison.
"[Spectral Chains!!]"
Lu slammed her gauntlet into the ground once more as Ciel fired both guns downward. Ethereal chains erupted from the plaza in a blinding surge, wrapping around the Skin Splitter's limbs, torso, and neck.
The monster thrashed wildly, claws tearing at the bindings as it struggled to break free.
Rena noticed instantly.
"Not happening."
She leapt high, wind spiraling beneath her feet.
"[Rising Falcon!!]"
A flurry of rapid kicks descended, each one amplified by slicing currents of air. The barrage forced the Skin Splitter downward, disrupting its struggle long enough for the chains to fully lock into place.
With a final, thunderous crash, the monster was slammed into the ground.
The chains tightened.
The Skin Splitter let out a low, guttural groan as its movements slowed, its body pinned and restrained at last.
Silence followed.
Rena landed lightly beside Ciel, straightening as the wind magic dissipated. Lu descended moments later, wings folding away as her boots touched the ground.
For a brief moment, none of them spoke.
"We did what we needed to do," Rena said calmly, scanning the immobilized creature.
Ciel holstered his guns, as his eyes never leaving the Skin Splitter. "True."
Lu crossed her arms, as her gaze shifting toward the shattered surroundings of the USJ. "But the real question is—how long until they arrive?"
She didn't need to specify who they were.
Ciel closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with a faint nod.
"Don't worry," he said quietly. "I can feel them."
A subtle pressure washed through the plaza—familiar, powerful.
"Ara's aura is close."
All three of them tensed—not in fear, but readiness—as they continued to watch the restrained monster.
The battle, it seemed, was not quite over yet.
Meanwhile with the heroes.......
For several long seconds after the Skin Splitter was restrained, no one at the upper entrance spoke.
Heroes and students alike stood frozen, eyes fixed on the distant central plaza where Lu, Ciel, and Rena remained standing—calm, composed, and unmistakably in control. The monster that had radiated such overwhelming malice moments earlier now lay bound in spectral chains, its movements sluggish and muted.
The silence was eventually broken by a low, incredulous voice.
"They... handled that thing with no effort at all," Vlad King muttered.
The tall, broad-shouldered hero leaned forward slightly, arms crossed, his sharp gaze tracing the battlefield below. Years of combat experience told him what he was seeing wasn't luck—or desperation—but absolute mastery.
Power Loader adjusted his large excavation-claw helmet, eyes wide behind the visor. "Are those even quirks?" he asked quietly. "From the way they fought... there's no visible strain. No fatigue. And they're clearly still young."
That observation unsettled several of the teachers nearby.
"I don't care whether it's a quirk or not," Snipe said gruffly, resting a hand near his holster. "At the very least, they finally dealt with that thing."
"No," All Might said.
The word cut through the conversation like a hammer striking steel.
Every head turned toward him.
"They didn't deal with it," All Might continued, his expression serious beneath his weakened smile. "They stalled it."
A ripple of shock passed through the group.
"Stalled it?" Cementoss repeated, his blocky form shifting slightly. "You mean... all that was just to buy time?"
"Yes," All Might confirmed. "Finishing it isn't their role here. Their task was to restrain it until it could be sent back to where it belongs."
He paused, eyes narrowing as memories stirred—battles he had witnessed firsthand.
"If they had fought with their full power," he added quietly, "then you wouldn't just be looking at a destroyed USJ. Half the surrounding area would have been erased along with it."
Jaws dropped.
Students exchanged stunned looks. Even seasoned pro heroes felt a chill run through them.
That level of power—restrained.
Bakugo scoffed under his breath, fists clenching. "Tch. Like hell."
Todoroki said nothing, but his mismatched eyes remained fixed on the three figures below, sharp and calculating. He didn't doubt All Might's words—but he wasn't ready to accept them either.
Before anyone could respond, a voice echoed up from the plaza.
"HEY, OLD GOAT!" Ciel's voice rang out clearly. "GET OUT OF THE WAY! REINFORCEMENTS ARE COMING!!"
All Might's grin widened despite himself.
"You heard him!" he announced. "Everyone, clear the entrance! Help is on the way!"
The heroes wasted no time, ushering students further back as they created distance from the massive USJ gate.
The air shifted.
A deep, resonant pressure rolled through the entrance like an approaching storm.
Then—
BOOM.
The reinforced gate shattered inward.
A massive figure burst through the opening in a spray of debris and fractured metal.
He was a young man, no older than his late teens, clad in full white armor traced with glowing blue outlines. A blue belt bearing a large stone rested at his waist, and in his right hand he carried an enormous cannon—easily larger than most of the students present.
He landed heavily, boots cracking the ground beneath him as he stabilized his stance.
Right behind him, stepping calmly through the ruined entrance, came a woman.
She appeared to be in her early twenties, her presence commanding despite her quiet stride. Long black hair flowed down her back, tied with a black-and-white ribbon. One eye gleamed crimson red, the other a deep amber gold.
She wore layered traditional garments—Japanese and Chinese styles interwoven in black, white, and gold. Bare feet touched the ground soundlessly.
In her hand was a long spear.
Behind her floated nine black-and-white cloth talismans, each tipped with a small bell that chimed softly as they moved—arranged like fox tails swaying in the air.
The boy steadied his cannon, scanning the area.
"Did we make it in time?" he asked.
The woman's gaze shifted past the heroes, toward the central plaza.
"I believe we did," she replied calmly. "Though it seems we're only here for cleanup. Lu-chan, Ciel-kun, and Rena have already handled the problem."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she observed the bound Skin Splitter.
The boy lifted his cannon instinctively.
"I'll finish it, then—"
The butt of a spear tapped sharply against his helmet.
"Don't," the woman said flatly.
He froze.
"Why did you stop me?" he protested.
"You dunce," she replied without malice, lightly striking his head again with the lance. "We just arrived. And your first instinct is to fire?"
He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry..."
At that moment, Nezu hopped down from Snipe's shoulder and approached them, tail swaying.
"I take it you two are the reinforcements?" the principal asked politely.
Both newcomers looked down.
"Yes," the woman said with a slight bow. "my name is Ara Haan. A pleasure to meet you. And this—" she gestured beside her "—is my partner."
"Seiker Farenghart," the boy added, bowing properly this time. "At your service."
Nezu's eyes gleamed with interest.
"I see. To think the son of the White Colossus is part of the Grand Chase," he mused. "Fascinating."
Ara inclined her head. "We are already aware of the situation. We were diverted from our original assignment before being redirected here."
She turned to Seiker. "You may head down to the central plaza."
Seiker blinked. "What about you?"
"I'll remain here for now," Ara replied calmly. "There are injured heroes and at least one student in need of immediate attention."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Midoriya's bandaged arm and two gravely injured pros nearby.
Seiker nodded, shouldering his cannon.
"Understood. I'll go on ahead. Join me once you're done."
He slammed a cannonball into the ground.
The explosion launched him skyward, debris scattering as he rode the blast downward toward the central plaza like a living projectile.
"Now that Seiker-kun's heading down," Ara said softly, adjusting her grip on her spear, "it's time I do my part."
She turned away from the shattered gate and walked toward the injured, her steps light and deliberate.
Lying near the center of the entrance area was Midoriya Izuku, exhaustion written across every inch of his body. His right hand—once twisted and shattered—had been hastily stabilized, but even a cursory glance told anyone with medical knowledge that the damage was severe.
Nearby lay Aizawa Shota.
The sight of him sent a quiet shock through the gathered students.
His arms were visibly broken at unnatural angles, his scarf torn and bloodied. Worse still, parts of his face and exposed skin bore the unmistakable signs of decay—jagged, blackened patches where Shigaraki's Quirk had grazed him. His breathing was shallow, uneven.
Not far from him was Thirteen—Kurose Anan—her white space suit torn open, its structural integrity compromised. The damage to her back was severe enough that she hadn't been able to stand since the battle ended.
Ara slowed as she approached.
Before she could kneel, several students stepped forward, instinctively placing themselves between her and the injured heroes.
Midnight frowned. "Students, step aside. She can help."
Asui shook her head, her stance firm. "We can't let a vigilante near Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen-sensei, kero."
Nezu folded his paws calmly behind his back. "She can be trusted."
The hesitation remained.
Yaoyorozu Momo stepped forward, her expression composed but resolute, standing shoulder to shoulder with Asui.
"How can we be sure?" Momo asked. "We've already seen how dangerous today has been. Trust isn't something we can give lightly."
Ara stopped a few steps away.
She looked at them—really looked at them—with eyes that had seen far worse than suspicion.
"If I were a villain," she said pleasantly, "I would have killed everyone here without a second thought."
Time froze.
Students stiffened. A few heroes tensed instinctively.
Then Ara laughed softly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Ufufufu~ I'm kidding."
The tension snapped—but didn't disappear entirely.
"I won't kill innocents," Ara continued calmly. "That would violate my family's code. Unless, of course, I'm given a reason."
She tilted her head slightly. "And none of you have given me one."
Her tone shifted—gentler now.
"I'm here to make sure they don't suffer permanent damage."
Slowly, reluctantly, the students stepped aside.
Ara knelt beside Midoriya first, eyes glowing faintly as she assessed his condition. Then Aizawa. Then Thirteen.
Her expression darkened.
Vlad King stepped closer. "So. What's the damage?"
Ara stood.
"Eraserhead's injuries are the most severe," she said without hesitation. "If All Might had arrived even a few seconds later, he—and several students—would have died."
A sharp inhale rippled through the crowd.
"As for Thirteen," Ara continued, "she'll recover. But she'll be out of commission for a considerable amount of time."
She turned toward Midoriya.
"And this young man... his hand was shattered. Had initial treatment been delayed any longer, he would have lost its use permanently."
Several students paled.
Uraraka's hands trembled.
Ara noticed Bakugo's smirk at the edge of her vision—but chose not to address it.
"But," Ara said, lifting a hand, "since I'm here—there's nothing to worry about."
She produced three paper talismans from within her sleeve.
With precise movements, she placed one on Midoriya's chest, one on Aizawa's shoulder, and one over Thirteen's torn suit.
The talismans ignited in a warm orange glow.
"What's happening?" Sero asked, eyes wide.
"Quelle beauté..." Aoyama murmured in awe.
"Look!" Jiro said sharply. "Aizawa-sensei—Midoriya—!"
Before their eyes, bones realigned. Torn flesh knit itself together. The decayed patches on Aizawa's face faded as if time itself were being rewound. Midoriya's shattered hand reformed completely, color returning to his fingers.
The glow intensified—
Then abruptly vanished.
The talismans fell away, crumbling into ash.
"What happened?" Shoji asked.
"Looks like they've reached their limit," Ara explained. "Since their Spirit Power is all spent."
"Spirit... Power?" Uraraka asked.
"Think of it as stamina," Ara replied. "They're simply drained. Still—Recovery Girl should examine them. This isn't a replacement for proper care."
She turned back to Midoriya. "So, how's your hand?"
Midoriya flushed bright red as she leaned closer.
"I—I'm okay now," he stammered. "Just... really tired."
Ara smiled warmly. "Good."
Present Mic stepped forward, his usual bravado tempered by sincerity.
"I don't care what people call you," he said. "Thanks for saving my best friend."
Ara bowed lightly. "I was only doing my job."
She straightened. "Now then—"
A roar echoed from below.
Everyone turned.
The Skin Splitter was fading—its form unraveling into strands of corrupted energy. Standing before it were Lu, Ciel—and a man wearing all black with a black mask raising his hand.
"Looks like they're wrapping things up," Ara said calmly, moving toward the railing.
"What do you mean?" Inui growled.
"The man in the middle is Glaive," Ara replied. "He's forcing the creature back to its original world."
Below, Seiker raised his cannon.
A thunderous blast shook the USJ.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
The Skin Splitter was hurled backward into a yawning portal. On cue, Lu and Ciel unleashed their chains, sealing the rift shut with a final surge of energy.
Silence followed.
Then relief.
The battle was over.
"That thing is finally gone," Present Mic said, letting out a long breath as he lowered his shoulders. "So... does that mean everything's over?"
Ara, standing near the railing with her spear resting lightly against her shoulder, shook her head.
"No," she replied calmly. "That was only the beginning of the aftermath."
Several heroes turned toward her at once.
"Aftermath?" Power Loader echoed, adjusting his helmet as his mechanical eyes focused on her.
Ara lifted her spear and pointed toward the central plaza below.
"When a resident of Henir enters a world that is not native to it," she explained, "they leave behind miasma wherever they tread. It's a residue born from pure negativity—corruption that seeps into the land itself."
As if responding to her words, a dark blue haze began to spread across the plaza. It clung to the ground, pooling in cracks and broken concrete like a living shadow.
Students recoiled instinctively.
"That means..." Nezu murmured, eyes narrowing in calculation, "this facility can't be used for the foreseeable future."
"If left untreated," Ara confirmed. "The miasma becomes permanent. Any area it saturates is rendered uninhabitable."
A heavy silence fell.
"But," she added smoothly, twirling her spear once, "if it's purified, that changes things."
"Purified?" Yaoyorozu asked. "You mean... like an exorcism?"
Ara nodded. "That's a close enough comparison."
She turned toward the railing.
"Well then," she said lightly, "since the Skin Splitter has already been sent home, it's time for me to do my job~"
"Hey—wait, what are you—" Snipe began.
Ara jumped.
Gasps erupted from both heroes and students as she vaulted clean over the railing, plummeting toward the plaza below.
But she didn't fall.
Orange ripples formed beneath her feet with every step, as if the air itself were solidifying under her weight. She ran forward—through the sky—each stride effortless, graceful.
"She's... she's walking on air," Uraraka whispered, eyes shining in disbelief.
Ara reached a bent lamppost jutting from the ruins and used it as a foothold, leaping higher before hurling her spear downward.
The weapon pierced the ground with a resonant clang.
Ara landed atop the spear's haft, balancing perfectly on its tip as her eyes closed.
The bells attached to the cloth talismans behind her chimed softly.
She raised one hand.
Low, ancient words flowed from her lips—measured, rhythmic, resonating with something far older than Quirks or modern heroics.
An immense orange wave erupted outward from the spear's point.
It washed across the USJ like a tide of light.
Where it passed, the dark blue miasma recoiled—shriveling, evaporating, dissolving into nothingness. The corruption peeled away from the plaza, then the surrounding zones, until not a trace remained.
Within minutes, the USJ stood cleansed.
Ara opened her eyes.
"And that," she said cheerfully as she leapt down, "will do it. Good work, everybody."
She retrieved her spear and walked toward the trio waiting below.
"You're a bit late," Ciel remarked dryly, rolling his shoulders as the tension finally began to leave his body.
"Well," Ara replied with a smile, "I did have to heal a few people up there."
"We felt the Henir's presence the moment we got off the plane," Seiker added. "And we only just arrived, by the way. We basically left our stuff at the airport."
Lu, Ciel, and Rena winced simultaneously.
"...That's rough," Lu muttered.
"Don't worry," Ara said reassuringly. "Luriel-san was kind enough to deliver our belongings to the residence provided for us."
Seiker exhaled in relief. "Really? That's a lifesaver."
He turned toward the others. "So—when did you all get here?"
"Lu and I arrived today," Ciel answered calmly. "Courtesy of Star."
"I arrived two days earlier," Rena added. "Commander ordered me to acclimate to Japan's wind patterns."
Seiker nodded thoughtfully.
"Anyway!" Lu said suddenly, straightening. "Me and Ciel got our licenses!"
She and Ciel simultaneously produced their provisional hero licenses—sleek, official, unmistakably real.
Ara blinked—then smiled brightly.
"Really?" She immediately pulled them both into a warm hug. "That's wonderful! Congratulations, Lu-chan, Ciel-kun!"
The demon duo stiffened briefly before relaxing into the embrace. Ara's warmth was familiar—comforting.
"Now you can move freely," Seiker said approvingly.
They nodded.
Eventually, Ara released them.
That was when Lu noticed it.
She glanced upward.
The heroes of U.A.—and the students—were watching them intently.
Dozens of eyes. Dozens of questions.
"I guess," Ciel said quietly, following her gaze, "we're not getting out of this without explanations."
Rena crossed her arms. "Expected."
Lu sighed. "Figures."
Above them, Nezu stepped forward, expression polite but unmistakably sharp.
Their arrival, their power, their purpose—none of it could remain unanswered.
And all of them knew it.
The battle was over.
But the real conversations were just beginning.
----------
Several hours later
USJ - Entrance
Several hours had passed since the chaos at the Unforeseen Simulation Joint finally subsided.
What remained was not silence, but a heavy, exhausted stillness—one weighed down by flashing police lights, the hum of emergency vehicles, and the murmured voices of professionals picking apart the aftermath piece by piece. The shattered dome loomed behind them like a scar across the sky, its broken structure a grim reminder of how close disaster had come.
The students of Class 1-A stood in loose formation near the entrance plaza, some sitting on the pavement, others leaning against railings or one another. Dirt streaked their uniforms, scorch marks and ice residue still clung to fabric and skin, and yet—remarkably—no one appeared gravely injured.
A tall man stepped forward, clipboard in hand.
"Eighteen... nineteen... twenty." He lifted his gaze, eyes sharp but calm behind rectangular black frames. "All students are accounted for. And it appears all of you are unharmed."
Relief rippled through the group at once.
The man closed his clipboard. He wore a tan overcoat and a matching fedora, a black suit beneath with a neatly knotted green tie. His posture was relaxed, but there was an unmistakable air of authority about him.
Naomasa Tsukauchi. Police detective. And more importantly—someone the heroes trusted.
"Well done," Tsukauchi continued. "Given the circumstances, that's no small achievement."
Nearby, conversation slowly began to bubble back to life as tension eased.
"Ojiro-kun!" a cheerful voice called out.
Ojiro Mashirao turned toward the sound, blinking as he spotted a familiar pair of floating gloves and boots bouncing toward him.
"I heard you were fighting villains in the fire zone," Hagakure Toru said brightly. "Did you have a hard time in there?"
Ojiro scratched the back of his head, his tail swaying slightly behind him. "The heat made it difficult to breathe," he admitted. "But I managed. What about you?"
"I was in the landslide area with Todoroki-kun," Hagakure replied. "And get this—he was super strong!"
She paused for effect.
"...Though he almost froze me."
Ojiro's eyes widened. "He what?"
"Don't blame him!" Hagakure quickly added, her gloves flailing in defense. "That was totally my fault. I didn't tell him I was there the whole time!"
A few steps away, Todoroki stiffened slightly.
I almost froze her... he thought, unease settling in his chest. That was too close.
He exhaled slowly, gaze lowering. I need to be more aware of my surroundings.
Elsewhere, another cluster of students compared experiences.
"So the ones you faced were just hooligans too?" Tokoyami Fumikage asked quietly, his avian eyes reflecting the patrol lights.
"They underestimated us 'cause we're kids," Kirishima replied with a grin, arms folded proudly. "And that was a big mistake."
"So it really was All Might who punched a hole through the dome?" Sero asked.
Kirishima nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. That guy's power is unreal."
"And those vigilantes," Sato Rikido added, brow furrowing. "Who would've thought they were that strong?"
"They fought like professionals," Yaoyorozu said thoughtfully. "And All Might trusted them completely."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "That suggests a history."
"You could say that."
The unfamiliar voice cut through their discussion.
Several students tensed instinctively as a young man with silver hair and mismatched eyes approached, hands casually in his pockets. Beside him is Lu as her blue eyes shined in curiosity.
"Me and the old goat go way back," Ciel continued evenly.
A few students shifted into guarded stances.
Lu noticed immediately and lifted her hands in a placating gesture. "Easy now. We're not here to fight. We just wanted to check if everyone's okay before we leave."
"You're awfully confident," Todoroki said, his tone was calm but edged with frost. "You're surrounded by heroes and police. You won't be allowed to leave."
Ciel met his gaze without blinking.
"They can try," he replied flatly. "But they can't beat us. Not you. Not even the old goat."
The air snapped.
"YOU THINK YOU VILLAINS CAN BEAT ALL MIGHT?!" Bakugo roared, spinning toward them. "HAH! IN YOUR—"
BANG.
The sound was deafening.
Bakugo staggered, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat as something hot grazed his cheek. A thin line of blood trickled down his skin.
Silence followed.
Every eye widened in shock.
Ciel stood where he was, gun already lowered, as his expression remained unchanged.
Bakugo's breath hitched—then his rage exploded.
"Y–YOU—!" His palms ignited. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
He launched forward in a burst of propulsion.
But he never reached his target.
A blade of the spear pressed against his throat.
Ara stood there in an instant, fox eyes burning crimson. On his left, Seiker's cannon hummed ominously, the barrel aimed squarely at Bakugo's face. On his right, Rena's arrow was drawn, wind coiling tightly around the shaft.
"Kacchan!" Midoriya shouted, heart dropping into his stomach.
"To think U.A. fell this low," Seiker said coldly, finger resting near the trigger.
"I knew something was wrong with him," Ara added, her gaze unblinking.
The heroes and police moved at once—only to halt as a commanding voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"THAT'S ENOUGH."
The voice carried weight—absolute, unquestionable.
"ALL OF YOU, STAND DOWN."
Ara stiffened.
"Aspara. Centurion. Anemos." The voice remained firm. "Lower your weapons."
After a brief pause, Ara withdrew her spear as her eyes returned to normal. Seiker powered down his cannon. Rena relaxed her bow.
Everyone turned.
A woman in her fifties strode forward, flanked by officers. She wore a tailored business suit, blonde hair neatly styled, turquoise eyes sharp with authority.
She is Sayaka Grant. Or better known as Madam President of the Hero Public Safety Commission.
Beside her walked a man with goggles perched on his head, dark blond hair tousled by the wind. Crimson wings folded neatly behind him.
He is Takami Keigo—or everyone knows as Hawks. Japan's Number Three Hero.
The teachers' faces drained of color as they saw who arrived.
"Students, don't move," Midnight hissed urgently. "That's the HPSC President."
"...Is that Hawks?" Tokoyami whispered, awestruck.
Sayaka approached Lu and Ciel, stopping just short of them. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
"Welcome to Japan, Ciel," she said calmly. "I didn't expect you and Luciela to arrive so... dramatically."
Ciel exhaled. "We'll be bothering you and your heroes while we're here."
He paused.
"...Aunt Sayaka."
The world seemed to stop.
For several long seconds, no one spoke.
The air itself felt suspended—caught somewhere between disbelief and unease. Students, heroes, and officers alike stood frozen, minds racing as they attempted to reconcile what they had just heard.
A vigilante... related to the president of the Hero Public Safety Commission.
Murmurs spread like ripples across still water.
"That can't be right..."
"Did he really say 'aunt'?"
"So he's... family?"
Even the U.A. teachers exchanged wary glances. Politics and hero society were never cleanly separated, but this—this crossed into territory few of them were prepared for.
Ciel exhaled slowly, already regretting how explosively the truth had surfaced.
"I suppose there's no point avoiding it now," he said, his voice level but tired. "The reason she's my aunt is simple. She is a member of the Laurenfrost Family."
Detective Tsukauchi's eyes narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but in professional instinct.
"Pardon me," he said politely, though the question carried unmistakable weight. "But according to official records, the president's name is Sayaka Grant. How does that align with the Laurenfrost lineage?"
Before Ciel could answer, the Madam President stepped forward.
"That is a fair question, Detective Tsukauchi."
She straightened, the casual composure she'd worn moments earlier hardening into something more formal—more dangerous.
"That is correct. Sayaka Grant is the name I use here in Japan," she said. "However, my birth name is Emilia Laurenfrost."
A murmur surged—this time louder.
"I am the elder sister of the former head of the Laurenfrost Family, Wilhelm Laurenfrost," she continued calmly. "I changed my name at my brother's request when I accepted my position in Japan. At the time, Europe was... unstable. Separating my identity from the family was a necessary precaution."
A collective inhale swept through the crowd.
Several pro heroes stiffened. Police officers exchanged looks of alarm. Even Nezu's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Yaoyorozu Momo felt her breath catch in her throat.
Laurenfrost...
Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
"L–Laurentfrost..." she began, voice unsteady. "Don't tell me that you're—"
Ciel met her gaze and nodded once.
"I am the current of the Laurenfrost Family," he said. "Ciel Laurenfrost."
The name landed like a verdict.
"Momo?" Jiro whispered, noticing her friend's pale expression. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
Yaoyorozu swallowed hard.
"You don't understand," she said quietly, yet every word carried. "The Laurenfrost Foundation isn't just influential. It oversees the majority of hero administrations across Europe. Support development, logistics, training institutions—many of them operate under its authority."
Her voice lowered further.
" And they are the single largest organization advocating for the Quirkless."
That word struck like lightning.
"They provide funding, education, legal protection... even experimental support programs," Yaoyorozu continued. "They've been giving the Quirkless a chance to become heroes long before the rest of the world even considered the possibility."
Shock rippled outward.
Midoriya felt his chest tighten.
Quirkless... heroes...
For a brief moment, the memories he tried so hard to bury resurfaced—years of being told his dream was impossible, that he had no place in hero society.
And now, standing before him, was someone whose family had quietly been fighting against that reality.
Lu watched the shift in atmosphere with keen interest—and chose that moment to step forward.
"Well, since Ciel has introduced himself," she said brightly, her presence immediately commanding attention, "I suppose it's only fair that I do the same."
She took Ciel's arm without hesitation.
"My name is Luciela Elstein. Head of the Elstein Family... and Ciel's fiancée. A pleasure to meet you all."
The declaration sent another wave of murmurs through the crowd.
Seiker snorted softly.
"Guess that's our cue."
"My name is Rena Erindel," Rena said smoothly, offering a wink. "Leader of Argentina's West Wind Brigade."
Ara stepped forward next, posture elegant and disciplined.
"My name is Ara Haan. The leader of the White Fox Sect of China."
Finally, Seiker rested his cannon against his shoulder.
"And I'm Seiker Farenghart. Son of Helmut Farenghart—also known as the White Colossus."
The reactions were immediate—and loud.
"The West Wind Brigade?" Hawks repeated, eyes widening slightly. "That squad's one of South America's best. Like me and Ingenium, all of them specialize in speed. Even I wouldn't win a straight chase."
The students stared as Hawks admitted that he can't beat anyone from the West Wind Brigade.
Ojiro's tail twitched. "The White Fox Sect... I've heard of them. I know that they produced China's most disciplined fighters, and seven of China's top heroes came from there."
Kirishima's eyes lit up. "WAIT—you're White Colossus' kid?! That's so manly! I look up to your dad as well!"
"The Elstein Family..." Yaoyorozu murmured. "They control a significant portion of Europe's food supply. To think the Elstein and Laurentfrost families are allied so closely..."
Lu hugged Ciel's arm tighter, smiling brightly.
"Of course we are! We promised to stay together forever!"
Ciel's lips curved into a rare, soft smile.
For just a moment, Emilia—Sayaka—allowed herself to smile as well.
But only for a moment.
She straightened once more, her expression returning to steel.
"Since you're here," she said, eyes fixed on Ciel, "I assume you all possess valid licenses. The World Heroes Association informed me of this development earlier today."
Without a word, Lu, Ciel, Ara, Rena, and Seiker produced their identification.
Sayaka examined them carefully. Hawks leaned over her shoulder.
"Level Seven clearance..." Hawks whistled. "Well I'll be damned. That's no joke."
"Pardon me but," Iida began, unable to contain himself. "What exactly is Level Seven clearance?"
Sayaka didn't even glance at him.
"That information," she said coolly, "is not for first-year students as you all are not yet ready. You will learn of it during your third year—assuming you survive that long."
Her gaze shifted sharply.
"And as for you," she said, eyes locking onto Bakugo.
Bakugo stiffened, teeth clenched.
"Consider this your only warning," she continued. "Threaten my nephew again, and I will personally authorize your transfer to Tartarus."
The silence that followed was absolute.
No one dared to speak.
Finally, she turned to Nezu.
"I allowed U.A. considerable freedom because I trusted your judgment," she said evenly. "Perhaps I was too lenient. Consider this a formal warning. The HPSC will be increasing oversight and providing security support to ensure student safety."
Nezu inclined his head. "We appreciate the assistance."
"Hawks," Sayaka said, already turning away. "We're leaving."
"Roger that, Madam President."
As they departed, Rena stretched casually.
"Well, that was fun. Expect big changes in Japan soon. Bye~"
Ara bowed once more. Seiker followed.
Only Ciel and Lu remained.
Ciel looked back at the students one final time.
"Some of you have real potential to become heroes," he said quietly. "But, if you pursue heroism for fame or ego alone... this path will break you."
His gaze lingered.
"Today was just a sample. When you become pros—that's when reality truly begins and will bear its fangs on you."
He turned away, Lu beside him.
And with that, they were gone.
Leaving behind a hero society that would never be the same again.
----------
While the echoes of chaos, revelation, and political shockwaves continued to ripple outward from U.A., far from the eyes of heroes and the public, another figure licked his wounds in the shadows.
Deep within Kamino Ward, buried beneath crumbling buildings and forgotten streets, a dimly lit bar stood silent. The air inside was thick with smoke, alcohol, and decay—an appropriate refuge for villains nursing defeat.
Shigaraki Tomura sat hunched over the counter, his posture tense, fingers twitching as though itching to crumble something beneath his touch. His pale hair hung messily over his face, and beneath it, his crimson eyes burned with frustration.
The attempt had failed.
Again.
"Damn it!" Shigaraki snarled, slamming his hand into the counter with enough force to crack the wood. "We had him! We had All Might right there—by the throat!"
The bottles rattled violently.
"If those new players hadn't shown up..." he growled, teeth grinding. "I would've killed him."
Behind the bar, Kurogiri calmly wiped a wine glass, his movements slow and methodical. The purple mist that formed his face shifted subtly as he listened, unbothered by his leader's outburst.
"Your anger is understandable, Tomura," Kurogiri said evenly. "However, shouting will not change the outcome."
Shigaraki scoffed, clawing at the air.
"Don't lecture me," he snapped. "Everything was going according to plan! The Nomu was perfect! The heroes were scattered! All Might was supposed to fall!"
Before Kurogiri could respond, the television mounted above the counter flickered to life.
Static filled the screen.
A low hum reverberated through the bar, as though the air itself recoiled.
Then—a voice emerged.
Deep.
Measured.
Menacing.
"Tomura," the voice said. "How did the operation proceed?"
The moment the voice spoke, Shigaraki stiffened.
Kurogiri turned toward the screen, setting the glass down carefully.
"Unfortunately," Kurogiri replied in his stead, "All Might survived."
The static on the screen crackled softly.
"...I see," the voice said. "And the Nomu I entrusted to you?"
Shigaraki clicked his tongue in irritation.
"We lost it," he said bluntly.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"...You what?"
The weight behind those words pressed down on both of them.
"I said we lost it!" Shigaraki snapped, slamming the counter again. "All Might sent it flying! You lied to me, Sensei! He hasn't gotten weaker—he's just as strong as ever!"
For a moment, there was only static.
Then, the voice spoke again—calmer, colder.
"So...he still wields that power. Even after I carved that wound into him."
Shigaraki scoffed, pacing.
"Then what was the point of all this?" he spat. "You said he was finished! You said this was the perfect time!"
"Patience," the voice replied. "Power does not vanish overnight."
The screen flickered again.
"By the way," the voice continued, tone sharpening, "I noticed something else. The shards I collected, I noticed that a portion of them were missing."
Shigaraki froze.
The air grew heavier.
"Care to explain?"
Shigaraki clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
"You told me to only use it as a last resort," he muttered. "I didn't expect a portal to appear. That thing—whatever it was—reacted on its own."
Kurogiri tilted his head slightly.
"Sensei," he asked respectfully, "what lies beyond that portal?"
The static pulsed.
"Beyond it," the voice said slowly, "exists power beyond our comprehension. Power not bound by quirks. Not limited by biology."
Shigaraki's eyes widened slightly.
"If I can grasp that power," the voice continued, "then I can refine my Nomu far beyond their current limits. The shards I have gathered across the world...they are the key."
Shigaraki clicked his tongue again.
"Then those shards shouldn't have reacted like that."
"They reacted," the voice replied, "because something else answered their call."
Kurogiri's mist rippled.
"Sensei," he said, "during the incident—when Tomura was about to break one of the shards—he was stopped."
The static crackled louder.
"By whom?"
"A pair of vigilantes," Kurogiri replied. "A tall boy with blue hair... and a young girl with long white hair."
Silence.
Then—
"...So they've come."
The tone of the voice changed—sharpened.
"This will complicate matters."
Shigaraki turned sharply toward the screen.
"You know them?" he demanded. "Who the hell are they?"
"I know them better than anyone," the voice replied.
A pause.
"And I paid dearly for that knowledge."
The static cleared briefly—enough to reveal a vague silhouette.
"I lost my legs because of one of them."
Shigaraki's eyes widened.
"The way they fight," the voice continued, "is not something heroes do. Nor villains."
"...Then what are they?" Shigaraki asked quietly.
"Warriors," the voice answered. "Their power does not originate from quirks. It comes from elsewhere—from discipline, from will, from something far older."
Shigaraki clicked his teeth in irritation.
"Tch. Then what? We just sit here and do nothing?"
"For now," the voice said, "you will observe."
Shigaraki trembled, frustration boiling.
"Observe your new enemies. Learn their habits. Their weaknesses. Their patterns."
The static deepened.
"And when you finally have them by the throat," the voice continued, "you will make them understand fear."
Shigaraki slowly lowered his head.
A grin spread across his cracked lips.
"...Heh," he chuckled. "Alright, Sensei."
His fingers twitched eagerly.
"I'll watch them closely."
The screen went dark.
The bar fell silent once more.
In the shadows of Kamino Ward, the pieces began to shift.
And the war—now touched by powers beyond quirks—had only just begun.
----------
Far from Kamino Ward, where resentment and malice fermented beneath flickering neon lights.
Far from U.A. High, where shaken students and heroes struggled to process a reality that had grown far larger than quirks alone—
At the outskirts of Tokyo, nestled within one of the capital's most prestigious districts, stood a mansion that felt distinctly out of place.
Six floors tall. Sleek, modern, and expansive.
Its pristine white exterior reflected the city lights like polished marble, while layered security systems—both mundane and arcane—lay dormant beneath its walls.
The air before its front gate shimmered.
A complex blue magic circle bloomed into existence, arcane symbols rotating in layered harmony. The space within warped, folded inward—
—and two figures stepped through.
Luciela Elstein and Ciel Laurenfrost.
The circle vanished soundlessly behind them.
Lu stretched her arms slightly, white hair swaying as she took in the sheer scale of the estate. Ciel, meanwhile, stared at the mansion in silence before pinching the bridge of his nose.
"...This is excessive," he muttered.
Lu chuckled softly. "I knew you'd say that."
She took a step toward the gate, then paused. "Hm? There's something here."
A small note had been affixed neatly beside the intercom.
Lu peeled it off and unfolded it.
Her expression shifted midway through reading.
"Well?" Ciel asked.
She cleared her throat and read aloud.
While you were at the USJ, I had one of my people in Japan move your belongings into this mansion.
And trust me, I did not assign this place to you and your team.
— Star and Stripe
Lu folded the note and looked at him. "That's what it says."
Ciel exhaled slowly.
"At least she bothered to deny responsibility," he said dryly. "That means someone else is pulling strings."
Lu smiled faintly and reached for his hand.
"Come on. Complaining won't make it smaller," she said gently. "And tomorrow is going to be... busy."
He squeezed her hand once.
"...Yeah. Let's go inside."
Interior — Living Room
The moment they stepped inside, Ciel immediately sensed it.
Multiple familiar presences.
Voices echoed from deeper within the mansion—casual, relaxed, unmistakably Grand Chase.
Lu tugged his hand lightly, and together they followed the sound, passing through wide corridors until they reached an expansive living room.
Seated comfortably were Rena, Ara, and Seiker.
And standing near the center, leaning casually against a massive greatsword taller than himself—
—was a man whose presence alone warped the atmosphere.
Black spiked hair.
Sharp, confident eyes.
A long black coat draped over his shoulders like a cape.
When he noticed them, his lips curled into a familiar, infuriating grin.
"Luciela. Ciel."
He spread his arms theatrically.
"Welcome to our base."
Lu froze for half a second.
"...Commander," she said weakly.
Ciel wasn't surprised. Just tired.
"Of course," he muttered, unhooking his gun holsters and hanging them against the wall. "I should've known."
Seighart Ercnard.
Commander of the Grand Chase.
The strongest individual alive.
The only man known—by a very select few—to have defeated All Might in direct combat.
The world believed Seighart to be merely another quirkless anomaly gifted with absurd strength. What they didn't know was that his power wasn't bound by quirks at all.
It grew.
Endlessly.
"Well, not exactly," Seighart said, shrugging. "When Luriel arrived in Japan, I traced her coordinates and warped here myself. Mari made it painless."
Lu sighed. "You couldn't just... not do that?"
"And miss this?" he laughed. "No chance."
Ciel turned toward the others. "So. I assume this answers my next question."
Lu nodded. "The five of us will be the ones operating here?"
"Mostly," Ara replied calmly. "Add, Rose, Ain, and Lithia are en route. The rest are deployed elsewhere."
Seighart's expression darkened slightly.
"I've already dispatched Elesis and the others to deal with disturbances in other regions," he said. "Because the boogeyman has finally started moving."
The room went still.
"...All For One," Seiker said quietly.
He folded his arms, eyes narrowing.
"I've heard stories. Father spoke of him once."
Years ago—before his fateful battle with All Might—All For One had set his sights on the Hamel Kingdom.
An independent nation hidden from the world for centuries.
A land of pristine white cities, untouched waters, and ancient traditions preserved beyond modern chaos.
All For One sought to control it.
Helmut Farenghart—the White Colossus—stood in his way.
Their clash ended with All For One retreating, wounded and enraged.
"I don't think he has all the Henir Shards," Rena said, idly chewing on a pocky stick. "But he's close."
"That's the problem," Ciel replied. "Star confirmed earlier—whatever's happening, the shards are converging here."
Seighart's gaze sharpened.
"Then my original plan changes," he said. "I intended to have Japan owe us the pleasure of killing him."
Lu winced slightly. "You're saying that so casually..."
"But if he's involving Henir," Seighart continued, voice hardening, "then subtlety matters. He hides well. Too well."
He tapped a finger against the sword's hilt.
"And Japan's hero system?" Ciel scoffed. "That alone is going to be a logistical nightmare."
Ara smiled faintly. "Level 7 clearance gives us breathing room. The World Heroes Association stands behind us."
Lu relaxed slightly at that.
"Then for now," Seighart said, turning toward the staircase, "rest."
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Tomorrow, things escalate. Rose, Ain, Lithia, and Add will arrive soon. Jin and Lass will follow."
He straightened.
"Dismissed."
One by one, they rose.
Ara, Rena, and Seiker saluted crisply. Lu followed suit. Ciel hesitated for half a second—then mirrored them.
They dispersed.
Third Floor — Ciel's Room
Ciel's room was immaculate.
His belongings had already been arranged with near-military precision. Weapons secured. Clothing pressed. Personal effects placed neatly upon shelves.
He loosened his bowtie, removed his coat, and let himself fall back onto the bed.
The silence hit him all at once.
"...So much," he murmured. "All in one day."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pendant.
Opening it revealed a worn photograph.
A younger Ciel stood smiling awkwardly—his parents behind him, hands resting on his shoulders.
His expression softened.
"At least... I got to see Aunt Sayaka again," he said quietly.
He closed the pendant and exhaled.
Tomorrow, Japan would wake to a new reality.
One where heroes were no longer the strongest force in the room.
One where ancient power, political authority, and warriors beyond quirks had stepped onto the board.
And nothing—
—absolutely nothing—
would ever be the same again.
To Be Continued...