Midoriya Residence
Musutafu, Japan
8:30 A.M.
A single day had passed since Lu, Ciel, and members of the Grand Chase arrived in Japan.
Yet even in that short span of time, the world already felt different.
The air itself carried a sense of quiet tension, as though society were collectively holding its breath. News channels replayed footage of the USJ attack on an endless loop, analysts arguing over the implications of the League of Villains' debut, while whispered conversations about former vigilantes—once considered outlaws—now echoed in public spaces with a mixture of awe and unease.
Something fundamental had shifted.
Inside a modest apartment in Musutafu, however, the world felt smaller. Quieter.
Midoriya Izuku sat at the dining table, his breakfast laid out neatly in front of him. Toast. Eggs. A glass of milk that had gone untouched long enough for condensation to gather on its sides.
He stared at the toast.
Not because he wasn't hungry—but because his mind simply refused to slow down.
Yesterday had been overwhelming in ways Izuku hadn't thought possible. The USJ attack alone would have been more than enough for anyone his age to process. Villains breaching U.A. grounds. Pro heroes pushed to their limits. Students caught in the crossfire.
And then there was everything else.
The sudden appearance of Lu and Ciel. The revelation of the Grand Chase. Former vigilantes acting with authority that surpassed even national hero agencies. Their apparent connection to the president of the Hero Public Safety Commission. The implication that an entirely separate power structure—one operating globally—had been influencing the world from the shadows.
It was... too much.
For once, Izuku was grateful for the exhaustion that had dragged him out of bed later than usual. Normally, he would have been up before sunrise, reviewing hero notes and training plans. But today, there was no rush.
Principal Nezu had announced it himself: all classes at U.A. were suspended for the remainder of the week. Security upgrades were underway, bolstered by direct cooperation with the HPSC. Until everything was stabilized, students were to remain home.
Izuku had more time to rest.
He wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
"Izuku?"
The gentle concern in his mother's voice pulled him back to reality.
Midoriya Inko stood near the counter, her hands clasped together anxiously as she watched her son stare blankly at his food.
"You're going to burn a hole through your toast if you keep looking at it like that," she said softly. "Are you alright?"
Izuku blinked, then offered a small, practiced smile. "I'm fine, Mom."
Inko wasn't convinced.
Ever since she'd heard about the USJ incident, her heart had been in a constant state of panic. The moment she learned Izuku was safe, she had broken down in tears—relief crashing over her so hard her knees nearly gave out. Even now, the image of her son surrounded by danger refused to leave her thoughts.
She moved closer, studying his face. "You don't look fine."
Izuku hesitated. His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table.
"...Mom," he began, his voice quieter than usual, "what if I told you that there was an organization that helps the quirkless?"
Inko stiffened in surprise.
"Before I got my quirk," Izuku continued carefully, "they supported people like me. Education, healthcare, career placement... even giving them a chance to become heroes using advanced support equipment."
He finally looked up at her, green eyes searching.
"Would you... support something like that?"
Inko's breath caught.
"Izuku," she said slowly, "what do you mean?"
"Yesterday," Izuku explained, words spilling out now that he'd started, "I met the head of the Laurenfrost Foundation. Yaoyorozu-san told me they've been helping the quirkless for years—quietly, but seriously. They don't just tell people to give up. They actually give them options."
As he spoke, memories resurfaced—countless doctor visits, whispered apologies, and the crushing certainty that his dream had been impossible.
Inko's expression shifted, something distant flickering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak—
Ring.
The sudden sound of the house phone cut through the room.
Both of them froze.
Inko glanced toward the phone, then back at Izuku. After a moment, she turned and walked toward it, her movements hesitant. She lifted the receiver.
"H-Hello?"
There was a pause.
Then—
"Inko! Finally, you answered!"
Her breath hitched.
That voice.
"...Hisashi?" she whispered. "Is that really you?"
It had been eight years since she had last heard her husband's voice.
To the outside world, Midoriya Hisashi was a man who had abandoned his family—a father who couldn't bear the shame of a quirkless son. Rumors had circulated, judgment passed quietly but cruelly.
None of it had been true.
Hisashi hadn't disappeared out of apathy or shame. He had vanished because of his work—work that required secrecy, distance, and sacrifices he never wanted to make. He had provided for them faithfully, sending large sums of money whenever possible, but Inko had always saved it carefully. Emergency funds. Insurance. A future safety net for Izuku.
"I know... I know it's been too long," Hisashi said, his voice thick with emotion. "But listen—remember the company I told you about? I got promoted."
Inko's hand trembled.
"They're opening a Japan branch in a few weeks," he continued, barely able to contain his excitement. "And I was selected as the chairman."
Her knees weakened.
"T-That means..." Inko whispered, tears blurring her vision.
"I'm coming home," Hisashi said firmly. "I'm finally coming back. I'll be there—no more calls, no more distance. I'll stay by your side."
The receiver slipped slightly in Inko's grasp as she sank to her knees, sobs breaking free at last. Years of loneliness, worry, and quiet endurance poured out all at once.
Izuku barely registered the phone slipping from his mother's grasp as she sank to her knees.
"Mom!" He was at her side in an instant, panic flashing across his face. "What happened?! Are you hurt?!"
Inko shook her head, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath. But this time, the tears weren't born of fear or pain.
"They're... happy tears," she said shakily. "Izuku... it's your father."
Izuku froze.
"Dad...?"
"He's finally coming home," Inko continued, her voice breaking as she covered her mouth. "He's coming back to Japan. To both of us."
For a moment, Izuku couldn't speak.
Eight years.
That was how long it had been since he had last seen his father. Eight years of absence, of questions that never had clear answers. Yet even with that distance, Hisashi had never truly been gone. Letters would arrive occasionally—carefully written notes filled with descriptions of heroes from overseas. Combat analyses. Quirk breakdowns. Tactical observations.
They had all ended up in Izuku's treasured Hero Notebooks.
It had been their quiet way of bonding.
"...That's amazing," Izuku finally said, his voice thick with emotion. Then his expression broke into a wide, unrestrained smile. "That's great, Mom! Dad's coming home!"
Inko laughed weakly through her tears, nodding. Only then did she realize she was still holding the phone.
"Oh! Hisashi, I—"
She fumbled slightly before pressing a button and setting the phone on the table, switching it to loudspeaker.
"Honey," she said warmly, "Izuku's here with me."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then—
"Izuku?" Hisashi's voice came through, hesitant, almost disbelieving. "Is that really you?"
"Yes!" Izuku answered immediately, leaning closer to the phone. "Dad! You're really coming back?!"
A soft chuckle followed, heavy with emotion. "Yeah. I am. I'm sorry it took this long."
"When are you coming home?" Inko asked, wiping her eyes.
"About a week," Hisashi replied. "There's still paperwork to finalize, but everything's set. And—well, from what I hear, my boss is already in Japan."
"That fast?" Inko gasped.
"They don't waste time," Hisashi said with a hint of amusement. "If things line up, I'd like to introduce them to you. They've... played a big role in making this possible."
Izuku tilted his head slightly. "Your boss?"
"Someone influential," Hisashi said vaguely. "You'll understand soon enough."
Before Izuku could ask more, the television in the living room abruptly shifted tones.
"—breaking news!" the anchor announced urgently.
All three Midoriyas turned toward the screen.
"This morning, eyewitnesses confirmed the appearance of the former vigilante organization known as the Grand Chase within Japanese territory."
Izuku's breath caught.
The footage changed, showing the skyline of a bustling city district. A white blur streaked across the screen at breathtaking speed—Lu, cutting through the air effortlessly, her long white hair streaming behind her like a banner.
Beside her, bounding from rooftop to rooftop with impossible precision, was Ciel.
"The way he jumps..." Izuku murmured, eyes wide. "It's just like how All Might moves."
He instinctively reached for his backpack before remembering it wasn't there. The urge to take notes burned painfully in his chest.
The camera followed as the duo descended upon a group of fleeing drug dealers. There was no chaos. No explosions. No shattered storefronts or cracked pavement.
Lu disarmed two suspects mid-air, redirecting their momentum without even letting them hit the ground hard. Ciel landed silently behind the others, movements precise and controlled, neutralizing each threat with surgical efficiency.
Within seconds, it was over.
The suspects lay restrained. The surroundings were untouched.
Lu glanced toward the hovering news drone—and winked.
Izuku and Inko stared in stunned silence.
"...Incredible," Inko whispered. "They resolved it that quickly. And without breaking anything."
Izuku nodded slowly, his mind racing. Pro heroes often minimized damage, but collateral destruction was practically expected during most arrests. What he had just witnessed felt... ideal. Controlled. Professional.
It was what hero society always said it stood for.
"Inko?" Hisashi's voice came through the phone again. "Are you still there?"
"Yes," she replied. "We were just watching the news. It looks like a former vigilante group arrived here. One of them is a boy with long blue hair wearing what looks like a butler's uniform, and the other is a young woman with long white hair."
There was a noticeable pause.
"I see," Hisashi said quietly.
Something in his tone made Izuku glance at the phone again.
"Well," Hisashi continued after a moment, "then I think you'll both be just fine. From what I've heard, they tend to do more good than harm. More than many heroes nowadays, even."
Inko blinked. "You sound like you know them."
"I know of them," Hisashi replied carefully. "Trust them, Inko. You and Izuku will be safe."
There was the faint sound of movement on the other end. "I have to go now. There's still a lot to pack."
"We'll be waiting," Inko said softly.
"I'll see you soon," Hisashi replied. "Both of you."
The call ended.
Inko exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady her heart. Then she looked at Izuku, who was still staring at the television with barely contained excitement.
"...Things really are changing," she said, smiling gently. "Aren't they?"
Izuku nodded, eyes shining.
"Yes," he said with quiet certainty. "They really are."
As Inko returned to the sink to finish washing the dishes, the news continued to play in the background—images of Lu and Ciel spreading rapidly across the nation.
Unaware of it yet, the Midoriya household stood at the edge of a new chapter.
And so did the world.
----------
At the same time—elsewhere in Musutafu.
The streets were unusually quiet.
That alone told Lu that they had arrived just in time.
Chains rattled softly as several restrained figures lay sprawled across the pavement, groaning beneath enchanted bindings that shimmered faintly with arcane light. Not a single storefront window was cracked. No scorch marks marred the asphalt. Traffic lights still blinked patiently overhead, indifferent to the crime that had just been erased from existence.
Lu crouched beside one of the apprehended dealers, efficiently rummaging through his pockets. Her wings folded neatly behind her as she worked with practiced speed.
"...Nope," she muttered, moving on to the next. "Nothing. Still no Henir Shards."
She straightened with a disappointed sigh, brushing dust from her gloves. "At the very least, we stopped a deal from going through. That's something."
Ciel stood nearby, arms folded, eyes scanning the surroundings with sharp vigilance. His expression remained composed, but there was an unmistakable tension beneath the surface.
"This isn't random," he said quietly. "Multiple drug routes active at once. Someone's testing response times."
Lu glanced at him, lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Which means Commander Seighart is doing exactly what he said he would."
"Working us to the bone?" Ciel replied dryly.
"And using Rena to coordinate it," Lu added with a chuckle. "Efficient. Ruthless. Very him."
Ciel exhaled slowly. "Then we move."
Lu didn't argue. With a single powerful beat of her wings, she rose into the air, white hair streaming behind her as she accelerated skyward. Ciel followed an instant later, launching himself forward and bounding across rooftops with effortless precision.
They vanished just as the assigned heroes arrived.
"Damn it," one of them growled, skidding to a stop. "They're already gone."
Another hero clicked his tongue in irritation, glaring at the restrained criminals. "I don't care what the Commission says. They're still vigilantes. This should've been our arrest."
Before the argument could escalate, the wail of sirens echoed through the street. Police vehicles pulled up in quick succession, officers stepping out—then freezing as they took in the scene.
No damage.
No chaos.
Just criminals neatly restrained and waiting.
Detective Tsukauchi emerged from one of the cars, eyes sharp but calm. He surveyed the area carefully, already anticipating the paperwork that would follow.
"I take it the Grand Chase handled this," he said evenly.
One of the heroes turned toward him. "You're not going after them?"
Tsukauchi shook his head. "No. I've seen their licenses. They're legitimate."
That earned him several incredulous looks.
"And consider this a slight warning," he continued, voice firm but measured. "Do not interfere with them. Provoking an unnecessary conflict will only make things worse."
He turned toward the officers. "Alright. Let's move."
As the criminals were loaded into the patrol cars, the street returned to its uneasy calm.
Across the city, the situation was far less orderly.
A group of villains with heavily mutated quirks—scaled hides, elongated limbs, serpentine eyes—closed in on a trembling cluster of civilians. Fear hung thick in the air.
Seiker stood between them.
He didn't speak.
Instead, he casually reached into his coat and withdrew four compact grenades. With calm, deliberate movements, he pulled the pins and dropped them at his feet.
The villains' eyes widened.
"W—Wait—!"
The explosions were silent.
A flash of pale blue light surged outward, and in the next instant, the villains were encased mid-motion—frozen solid within jagged pillars of ice.
Seiker adjusted his collar. "That was easy."
He glanced over his shoulder. "Compared to Hamel, these guys are soft."
Nearby, Ara knelt beside an injured child, soft orange light flowing from her hands as wounds closed seamlessly. She smiled gently as the boy's breathing steadied.
"They're not built like the ones from your hometown, Seiker-kun," she replied lightly. "Alright. All better."
The child's eyes sparkled. "Thank you, onee-chan!"
His mother bowed deeply, emotion evident in her voice. "Thank you for saving my son. When I heard you were vigilantes, I thought you might have... other motives."
Ara shrugged, rising to her feet. "We just help where we're needed."
Seiker glanced at his communicator. "Ara. Rena gave us a new location."
She nodded. "On my way."
She offered the civilians a final smile. "Take care of yourselves."
Moments later, Seiker revved his motorcycle, engine roaring as he sped off toward the next incident. Ara followed on foot, her movements swift and light as she vanished into the city.
High above Musutafu, on the edge of a towering skyscraper, Rena stood with her harp cradled in her arms.
The wind answered her presence, swirling gently as invisible currents bent to her will. With each soft pluck of her strings, information flowed—positions, threats, movement patterns—relayed seamlessly to the team below.
Lu. Ciel. Seiker. Ara.
Everything moved according to rhythm.
A sudden shift in the air alerted her before the sound of wings did.
"Well now," a familiar voice drawled as a figure landed behind her. "Looks like you're pretty busy, Anemos."
Rena didn't turn. "We're reducing pressure points across the city," she replied calmly. "Commander Seighart authorized it. This operation is also serving another purpose."
Hawks tilted his head. "If I can guess...you're using this as bait?"
"Yes," Rena said simply. "We're drawing out specific actors."
Her harp strummed on its own, reacting to distant disturbances.
Hawks grinned. "Sounds fun. So—how about I join in the fun?"
Rena said nothing as she smiled and finally gestured eastward.
Without another word, Hawks launched himself into the air, feathers flaring as he accelerated at blinding speed.
Rena watched him go, expression unreadable.
The wind shifted again.
----------
Hero Public Safety Commission Headquarters
Tokyo
The room was silent save for the low hum of holographic projectors.
Suspended above the central conference table, translucent screens displayed dozens of live feeds—streets across Musutafu and neighboring wards, frozen mid-conflict or already resolved. Criminals restrained with surgical precision. Civilians evacuated without panic. Buildings left untouched, as if violence itself had been selectively edited out of reality.
At the head of the table sat the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission, Sayaka Grant, or formerly Emilia Laurenfrost—her posture straight, expression composed, eyes sharp as she observed the unfolding data.
Around her were the highest-ranking members of the committee. Veteran bureaucrats. Former heroes. Political tacticians who had shaped hero society from behind closed doors for decades.
"For a foreign group of former vigilantes," one committee member finally said, adjusting his glasses, "they've been remarkably careful. No collateral damage. No grandstanding. That alone sets them apart."
Another nodded, scrolling through a separate feed. "Ishtar and Chevalier neutralized their target in under thirty seconds. Then they simply... left. No interviews. No statements."
A third member frowned. "Which is exactly the problem. We've already received complaints from heroes assigned to those districts. They arrived late—again. Their authority is being undermined."
A murmur of agreement spread through the room.
"If this continues," another added, "public opinion will inevitably turn. Our heroes already struggle under scrutiny. If civilians begin comparing them to an external force that operates faster, cleaner, and without oversight—"
The doors opened with a sharp thud.
"I say we put a stop to it now."
The voice was loud, confident, and dripping with disdain.
All eyes turned as Owada Mikage strode into the room. Heavyset, impeccably dressed, and wearing a smug expression that suggested he already considered the matter settled. The Vice President of the HPSC took his seat without waiting to be acknowledged.
"At the end of the day," Owada continued, "a vigilante is a vigilante. No matter how polished they look. They operate outside our system. That makes them no different from villains."
Several committee members exchanged glances. Some nodded.
"We arrest them," Owada said flatly. "Detain them. If necessary, send them straight to Tartarus. We cannot allow a foreign paramilitary group to run operations on Japanese soil unchecked."
The room leaned toward him.
All except Sayaka.
"Unfortunately," she said calmly, lifting her gaze from the screens, "you cannot issue an arrest."
Owada scoffed. "Excuse me?"
"The Grand Chase," Sayaka continued, "has been granted Level Seven Clearance."
The effect was immediate.
Chairs scraped. Tablets slipped from nerveless fingers. Color drained from faces across the table.
"...By whom?" Owada asked slowly.
"By the World Heroes Association," Sayaka replied. "With unanimous approval."
Silence crashed down like a hammer.
Clearance levels were not abstract concepts. Every professional hero understood them—lived by them.
Level One was standard. Newly licensed heroes. Absolute adherence to government oversight.
Level Three allowed limited autonomy. Independent action under specific conditions.
Level Five granted authority across prefectures.
All Might himself held Level Six Clearance—a status that permitted international operations, command authority over lower-ranked heroes, and broad operational freedom.
But Level Seven—
"The highest clearance in existence," one committee member whispered. "Total autonomy."
"Yes," Sayaka confirmed. "Full immunity from governmental jurisdiction. Authority superseding national hero laws. Freedom to act as they see fit... so long as they do not cross established red lines."
"And if they do?" someone asked, voice tight.
Sayaka's eyes hardened. "Level Seven clearance includes lethal authorization."
Owada slammed his hand on the table. "That's insane! You're telling me the WHA gave a group of former vigilantes the legal right to kill without consequence?! Have they lost their minds?!"
"They assessed the risks," Sayaka replied coolly. "And deemed it necessary."
Owada leaned back, seething. "Then explain this. Why Japan? Why now? Why are they sweeping through our cities like an occupying force?"
Yokumiru Mera, Sayaka's right-hand man, spoke up from his slouched position, with a lazy tone, but the weight shows concern. "Yeah. That part bothers me too."
Sayaka's fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
"Because," she said quietly, "a world-level threat is converging on Japan."
The room stiffened.
"You all remember the Moscow Massacre," she continued.
No one spoke.
They didn't need to.
Images burned into global memory resurfaced unbidden—entire districts erased overnight. Heroes slaughtered. Military forces rendered useless. Reports describing entities that shrugged off conventional force as if it were meaningless.
Creatures born of Henir.
"Wait," someone said, voice trembling. "You're saying those things are coming here?"
Panic rippled through the committee.
"Our quirks wouldn't work," another whispered. "Even All Might—"
"Would be ineffective," Sayaka finished. "Which is precisely why the Grand Chase has been deployed."
The door slid open again.
"I figured that was the case."
Heads turned as Hawks walked in, hands tucked casually into his pockets, wings folded loosely behind him.
"Hawks," Owada snapped. "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."
"Yeah, about that," Hawks replied with a grin. "I helped our new friends clean up a few hotspots."
Sayaka's gaze sharpened. "What's your assessment on the Grand Chase's action today?"
Hawks leaned against the wall. "They're terrifyingly efficient. Fifteen crimes resolved in minutes. Coordinated. No wasted motion."
He paused. "They're good. Real good."
"That's faster than All Might at his peak," a committee member muttered.
Owada scoffed. "And what do the rest of the Top Ten think?"
"We don't have full reports yet," Hawks replied. "But—"
A committee aide stepped forward, pale-faced. "There's been a development. Endeavor has altered his route."
Sayaka stiffened. "To where?"
"...Ishtar and Chevalier's last known location."
The room went deathly still.
Sayaka stood so abruptly her chair toppled backward.
"What did you say?" she demanded.
"I—Endeavor is moving to intercept them."
Color drained from Sayaka's face.
"No," she said sharply. "No, no, no—"
She turned on her heel. "Call All Might. Immediately. Get the rest of the Top Ten ready as well."
Hawks straightened. "Is it that bad for involving all the Top Ten as well?"
"Hawks," Sayaka said, voice low and urgent, "you're closest to the location. Go. Now."
"President," Mera said carefully, "what's the issue? Is there history between them?"
Sayaka paused at the door.
"There is," she said grimly. "And it's personal."
She didn't elaborate.
She didn't need to.
As alarms quietly activated across the HPSC network and calls were placed to the strongest heroes in Japan, Sayaka prayed—to any power listening—that Endeavor would stand down.
Because if Chevalier and Endeavor crossed paths—
Japan would not survive the aftermath.
----------
Atop the skyscraper overlooking Musutafu, the wind shifted violently.
Rena's harp screamed.
The strings vibrated on their own, resonating with chaotic currents in the air—discordant, unstable, and dangerous. Rena's fingers tightened around the instrument as her expression darkened.
This wasn't a warning.
It was a premonition.
She turned sharply toward the eastern skyline, eyes tracing the turbulent flow of wind. Through the distorted currents, she felt it clearly now—an overwhelming heat signature surging forward with unstoppable momentum.
Endeavor.
And he was closing in fast.
"No..." Rena muttered under her breath.
She didn't hesitate.
Rena pulled out her communicator, fingers moving with practiced precision.
"Commander, this is Rena," she said sharply. "Endeavor is moving directly toward Ciel-kun's location."
There was no delay in the response.
"Understood," Seighart's voice came through, calm but edged with urgency. "Cancel all operations effective immediately. You, Ara, and Seiker are to intercept and prevent engagement at all costs."
Rena's breath steadied.
"You are cleared to use Resonance," Seighart continued. "I'm deploying now."
The line went dead.
Rena exhaled slowly, grounding herself. With a flick of her wrist, the harp dissolved into particles of emerald light, dispersing into the wind. She switched communicators without pause.
"This is Rena," she said briskly. "Endeavor is en route toward Lu-chan and Ciel-kun. The Commander has canceled the operation. Resonance authorization granted. Intercept immediately."
She cut the transmission before either of them could respond.
The air around her shifted.
Thin green lines of light began to crawl upward from her boots, weaving around her legs like living wind currents. Rena stepped forward—and kicked off the edge of the skyscraper.
The wind caught her instantly.
She soared.
Elsewhere, Ara and Seiker stood amid the aftermath of a collapsing structure, the last civilians already evacuated to safety. Dust still lingered in the air when Ara's communicator chimed.
Her expression changed the moment she heard Rena's voice.
"...Endeavor?" Ara whispered as the call ended.
Seiker's jaw tightened. "That's bad."
"If Ciel-kun fights him," Ara said anxiously, "half the city could be leveled."
Seiker reached for the Guardian Stone secured at his belt. "Good thing we've been cleared."
Ara nodded, fingers already lifting to the fox-shaped hairpin tied behind her head.
They locked eyes.
"Resonance," they said in unison.
The Guardian Stone erupted in brilliant blue light, energy surging outward as Seiker's armor materialized piece by piece—pure white plating locking into place with mechanical precision. His hair shifted from blonde to deep azure, flowing freely from beneath his helmet.
At the same time, Ara removed her hairpin.
A spectral howl echoed through the street.
Behind her, a massive white fox spirit manifested, nine ethereal tails unfurling as it let out a resonant cry. Ara's hair faded from black to silver-white, her left amber eye burning crimson. Fox ears emerged atop her head, and nine flowing sashes transformed seamlessly into living tails of radiant light.
The transformation was instantaneous.
And it did not go unnoticed.
Civilians gasped, some raising their phones instinctively, capturing images of beings that no longer resembled anything within hero society's framework.
Seiker ignited the thrusters of his jetpack, blue flames roaring to life as he lifted off the ground. Ara was already moving, bounding up lampposts and scaling walls with supernatural agility.
Neither of them spared the onlookers a glance.
They had a disaster to prevent.
High above the city, Rena cut through the sky like an arrow, the wind bending obediently around her. Her senses were stretched thin, tracking multiple converging forces at once.
Lu and Ciel were dangerously close.
Endeavor was closer.
She increased speed, the air screaming as she descended.
Far away, in a quiet, shadowed space hidden from public eyes, Seighart stood within the Grand Chase's base.
He reached for his sword.
Dark energy coiled around him, thick and oppressive, responding eagerly as his fingers wrapped around the hilt. His expression twisted into a sharp, dangerous grin.
"So this is how our first day starts," he mused. "Disastrous already."
He stepped forward, aura flaring.
"Well," Seighart continued calmly, "we can't expect everything to go according to plan."
With a single motion, he vanished—leaving behind only a lingering pressure that made the air tremble.
We go to the location where Lu and Ciel are at, and the situation was already resolved.
Three armed criminals lay bound to the pavement by reinforced chains, pinned in place without a single crack in the road beneath them. Nearby storefronts remained intact, glass unbroken, pedestrians unhurt. It was another flawless operation—quick, decisive, and clean.
This time, the police arrived before the dust could even settle.
Several officers stepped out cautiously, weapons lowered as they took in the scene. One of them let out a low whistle.
"Wow," he muttered. "So the detective wasn't exaggerating. You really handled this without breaking anything."
Lu turned toward them, brushing her hands together lightly as if the entire affair had been no more than a mild inconvenience. "No big deal," she said with a bright, easy smile. "We're just more mindful of where we fight. That's all."
Another officer laughed, shaking his head. "Our heroes could stand to learn a thing or two from you."
He hesitated, then added, "The Commission notified us earlier. Said your group's... status has changed. Guess that means we can trust you now, huh?"
Ciel nodded once. "Seems that way."
He glanced at the officers, his expression softening just a fraction. "At least you cops are easier to talk to than most heroes. It's... comforting, in a way."
The reaction was immediate.
Several officers straightened, surprise flickering across their faces before turning into genuine appreciation.
"You have no idea how much that means," one of them said, tipping his hat slightly. "The force doesn't hear that often."
Another sighed, shoulders sagging. "These days, we're just the cleanup crew. Heroes smash everything, pose for cameras, and we're left dealing with the wreckage."
In Japan, the police had long been reduced to an afterthought in hero society. Arrests were their responsibility, yes—but only after the spectacle ended. They didn't get cheers. They didn't get interviews. Just paperwork and rubble.
Lu listened quietly, her smile softening.
Before she could respond—
A wave of heat tore through the air.
"MOVE!"
Lu and Ciel acted simultaneously.
Chains snapped free as Lu yanked the officers backward, shoving them out of the danger zone just as a torrent of fire crashed down from above. The asphalt screamed as it melted. The police cruiser erupted in a blaze of warped metal, flames devouring it whole.
The heat was unbearable.
The criminals, still conscious, stared in horror as their transport melted away.
Then they ran.
By the time the firestorm dissipated, the criminals had vanished into the chaos.
Lu released the officers, breathing hard. "Damn it..."
Ciel clenched his fists.
Their perfect streak was broken.
Slowly, they looked up.
Hovering above them was a towering figure wrapped in fire. Broad-shouldered. Dominant. Flames roared from his beard and mustache, crawling across his body as though they were part of him rather than something that burned.
Todoroki Enji.
Endeavor.
Japan's Number Two Hero.
"...Endeavor," Ciel said quietly.
The air around him changed.
Killing intent leaked from Ciel's presence like a pressure wave, sharp and absolute. Lu felt it instantly—and so did the officers.
Lu turned to them without hesitation.
"Get as many officers here as you can," she said firmly. "Evacuate everyone within several blocks. At this point..."
She looked back at the two men facing each other.
"...I can't stop them if they start fighting."
The officers hesitated—then remembered the burning cruiser. The heat. The fact that these two had just saved their lives.
"Understood," the lead officer said grimly. "We owe you that much."
He barked orders into his radio. "Call the Commissioner. Evacuation protocol now!"
As the police scattered, Lu moved to Ciel's side.
Endeavor descended slowly, boots touching down with crushing force. Flames surged higher, licking at the air itself.
"To think," Endeavor said coldly, eyes burning, "that a group of vigilantes would have the audacity to operate openly in my city."
His gaze locked onto Ciel. "You're asking for death."
"We're here to do our job," Ciel replied evenly. "Not to sell ourselves out for fame like a damn prostitute like you."
The flames exploded outward.
Endeavor's expression twisted in fury. "Watch your mouth."
"You'll end up in Tartarus," Endeavor snarled. "One way or another."
Ciel didn't flinch.
Instead, he reached behind him.
Twin firearms slid smoothly into his hands, mechanisms clicking softly as they came online. His stance shifted—measured, lethal.
Lu inhaled once.
Then a small blue portal opened behind Ciel, swirling with controlled energy.
Without a word, Lu stepped into it—and vanished.
Endeavor's eyes narrowed.
The air trembled.
And in that instant, the confrontation crossed the point of no return.
The battle between Lu and Ciel—
And Endeavor—
Had begun.
------------
Endeavor did not waste a single second.
The moment his boots scraped against the fractured asphalt, he drove his fist forward, flames detonating from his arm like a cannon discharge. The air screamed as a torrent of hellfire surged outward, swallowing the street whole.
Ciel reacted on instinct.
He dropped low, boots skidding across molten pavement as he slid beneath the inferno, heat scorching the edges of his coat. The world around him blurred into crimson and gold, the roar of fire drowning out everything else. He snapped both arms up mid-slide, his twin shotguns barking in unison.
The arrowhead rounds screamed through the smoke, their trajectories curving unnaturally as they homed in on Endeavor's heat signature.
Endeavor twisted sharply, flames erupting from his back to propel him aside. Most of the bullets tore past him—but not all.
One grazed his cheek.
Blood trickled down his face, evaporating the instant it touched his flames.
For a heartbeat, the street went silent.
Endeavor reached up, fingers brushing the wound. His eyes narrowed—not in pain, but in fury.
"You bastard..." His flames surged violently, heat pressure warping the air around him. "TAKE THIS! [HELL'S CURTAIN!!]"
He hurled both arms forward.
A wall of fire descended like divine punishment, expanding outward in a sweeping arc meant to incinerate everything in its path.
Ciel didn't flinch.
A blue portal snapped open beneath his feet.
He vanished.
Lu emerged in his place, already braced, her crimson eyes glowing as a glyph ignited before her outstretched hand.
"[Demon's Breath!!]"
Blue demonic fire roared forth, cold and oppressive, crashing head-on into Endeavor's inferno. The collision birthed a catastrophic explosion—flames spiraling upward as shockwaves shattered windows for blocks and pulverized the street beneath them.
Smoke engulfed everything.
Lu moved.
Using the explosion as cover, she shot forward like a missile, wings flaring as her gauntlets materialized around her arms, swelling to nearly half her size. By the time Endeavor emerged from the smoke, she was already there.
Her fist drove upward.
The impact detonated against Endeavor's jaw, sending him rocketing skyward like a flaming meteor. Before gravity could reclaim him, Lu surged after, appearing above him in a blur.
She clasped both hands together.
And slammed him straight down.
Endeavor cratered into the ground, asphalt erupting outward as buildings trembled from the impact. Flames sputtered wildly as he forced himself upright, teeth clenched—
Only for Lu to descend again.
Her uppercut this time was lighter—controlled.
A feint.
A portal flashed open behind her.
She vanished.
Ciel emerged mid-motion, swinging his shotguns like twin blades, the metal edges screaming as they carved arcs through the air. He chained the strikes seamlessly into a flurry of kicks, each one aimed with surgical precision.
Endeavor barely managed to twist aside, heat bursting from his body as he stomped down.
The ground ignited.
A wave of fire erupted outward, forcing Ciel to spring back. That split second was enough.
Endeavor recovered.
"[Flash Fire Fist: Jet Burn!]"
The compressed blast tore forward, faster and denser than anything before. Ciel's eyes narrowed. He reached behind him, ripping the chains from the cross-shaped weapon on his back.
The weapon unfolded.
Energy surged.
"[Magdonic Cannon!]"
The shot thundered forward, a projectile packed with condensed soul energy and demonic power. The moment it collided with Endeavor's attack, it detonated—not outward, but inward.
Souls erupted from the impact, shrieking as they devoured the flames piece by piece until nothing remained.
Endeavor clicked his tongue.
"Tch. You're making this harder for yourself."
Ciel said nothing.
He charged.
Endeavor braced, anticipating another barrage—
The portal flashed.
Lu appeared instead, already smiling.
"Surprise~ [Ruinous Impact!!]"
A colossal demonic hand tore through reality, slamming into Endeavor with overwhelming force and launching him through multiple buildings in a straight line. Concrete disintegrated. Steel warped. Entire floors collapsed in his wake.
Inside Lu's consciousness, Ciel spoke.
"Wait. How did you use Ruinous Impact? That isn't in our current set."
Lu chuckled lightly, weaving through the air. "Mari-san and Eve-san explained it a while back befoer we got here. We can access skills outside our preferred forms—damage output's halved, though. I can use my Chiliarch abilities at reduced efficiency."
Ciel processed that quickly. "Then... how about we use [Apollyon?]. Think it's possible?"
Lu's eyes gleamed. "Maybe. But we need stacks first."
Endeavor burst free from the rubble, flames spiraling wildly around him as he landed hard on the street.
"You insignificant gnats—!"
Lu vanished.
Ciel appeared.
"[Dark Crescent!!]"
He spun, guns cleaving through the air, releasing crescent-shaped waves of darkness that tore across Endeavor's defenses. Before Endeavor could counter, the portal flashed again.
Lu returned.
"[Power of Oriax!]"
Darkness enveloped her body, pressure crushing the air itself. She stood completely still.
Endeavor took that as an opening.
"This is the end! [Hellfire Storm!!!]"
A spiraling inferno engulfed Lu entirely, flames raging with such intensity that even the surrounding air burned. Endeavor staggered back, panting heavily, sweat evaporating instantly from his skin.
The storm faded.
Lu was still standing.
Unscathed.
Endeavor froze. "H-How—?! No one survives that!"
Lu tilted her head, smiling. "Simple~ We're built different."
A blue crystal formed in her hand, humming with condensed power. Ciel appeared behind her, solid and resolute.
"Since you showed us your ultimate..." Lu said softly, stepping onto his back.
"...allow us to show you ours."
They moved as one as Lu jumped off Ciel's back and she spread her demon wings wide as the blue gen in her hand shattered.
"[Descent Darkness!!!]"
A massive demonic circle ignited beneath Endeavor. Before he could react, a towering blue demon erupted from the ground, roaring as it seized him effortlessly.
Endeavor was slammed into the pavement again and again, the demon pounding him mercilessly before unleashing a brutal barrage of punches.
Knowing that the damage has been done, Lu summoned a colossal hammer.
With a final strike, she smashed it down, banishing the demon back into the abyss.
Silence fell.
Endeavor lay motionless, body scorched, alive—but utterly defeated.
Lu landed beside Ciel, her voice soft.
"Are you alright, my love?"
Ciel exhaled slowly, the rage finally ebbing.
"I'm fine... but this is only a fraction of what he deserved."
The city burned quietly around them.
And far above, unseen eyes were already watching.
The battlefield fell silent.
Lu and Ciel stood amid the ruins, the heat slowly dissipating as embers drifted through the air like dying stars. Where an entire city block once stood proud, there was now only devastation—streets split open, buildings reduced to slagged skeletons, concrete melted and warped beyond recognition.
And most of it was Endeavor's doing.
Lu clenched her fists, her gaze sweeping over the destruction. Her demonic aura flickered weakly now, unstable after the battle. Ciel exhaled slowly beside her, jaw tight, eyes cold as he surveyed the aftermath.
"...This is bad," Lu murmured.
"That would be an understatement," Ciel replied flatly. "Half the block's gone."
They exchanged a glance.
Without a word, they reached for each other's hands.
The air trembled.
Blue demonic energy surged outward from their joined palms, not violently—but gently, like a tide washing over the land. The wave expanded across the city block, weaving through broken streets and shattered structures.
Reality itself began to rewind.
Cracked asphalt knit back together. Melted steel straightened and cooled. Walls reformed, glass reassembled, and collapsed buildings slowly rose back into place as though time itself had taken a breath and stepped backward.
The buildings Endeavor had been hurled through restored themselves one by one, their scars vanishing as if they had never existed.
The process took nearly everything they had left.
When the last structure locked back into place, Lu and Ciel collapsed simultaneously, slumping onto the street. The glow around them faded to nothing.
Lu leaned weakly against Ciel's back, breathing hard.
"That was... exhausting..."
Ciel wiped sweat from his brow, chest rising and falling sharply. "No shit, Sherlock. Whose bright idea was it to use a Hyper Active Skill? [Apollyon] would've been more than enough."
Lu laughed faintly, eyes half-lidded. "Hey... it worked, didn't it?"
Before Ciel could retort, the sound of thrusters and rushing wind cut through the air.
Three figures descended onto the restored street.
Rena landed first, harp gone but her Resonance lines still glowing faintly. Seiker touched down beside her, jetpack disengaging with a hiss, while Ara landed lightly, fox tails swaying behind her.
All three froze.
"...We're too late," Seiker muttered.
The fight was over.
Rena's eyes flicked to Endeavor's unconscious body. "You didn't kill him... right?"
Ara was already kneeling beside Endeavor, two fingers pressed to his neck. After a moment, she nodded.
"He's alive. Barely."
She frowned.
"...But I can't heal him."
Lu shifted weakly. "We... used our Hyper Active Skill on him."
Rena, Seiker, and Ara all stiffened.
Understanding passed between them without words.
They knew Ciel's history. They knew what Endeavor represented to him. And they knew that Hyper Active Skills were never used lightly.
Ara exhaled softly. "That explains it. The curse is interfering with my Spirit Power."
Before anyone could respond, a booming voice echoed from above.
"I AM HERE—!"
All Might landed in a crouch, fist raised—only to stop short as he took in the scene. Hawks drifted down beside him, wings folding neatly as his sharp eyes scanned the surroundings.
"...Huh," Hawks said. "Looks like we missed the fireworks."
He glanced at Endeavor's scorched form. "You really burned flame-head to a crisp. Is he alive?"
"He is," Ara answered. "But he needs medical attention immediately. I can't heal him—not with the curse placed on him. He'll need technology, not quirks."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Moments later, police cars flooded the street, followed by an ambulance. Officers poured out, securing the area as Detective Tsukauchi stepped forward, expression grim.
"I received reports that Endeavor engaged you," Tsukauchi said.
"Engaged is putting it lightly," Ciel replied coldly. "He attacked us from out of nowhere. And in the process, the criminals we apprehended escaped. And he nearly killed several of your officers too. If it wasn't for us, they would've been roasted."
The surrounding policemen stiffened.
"He didn't care," Ciel continued. "As long as we were dead."
Tsukauchi's jaw tightened.
"...I see."
Ara gestured to Endeavor. "Please. Get him to a hospital. His body's been pushed far past its limit."
Before Tsukauchi could respond—
A flash of white crashed down from above.
Ara's instincts screamed.
She pivoted instantly, catching a flying knee with one hand, boots skidding back slightly as the impact cracked the pavement beneath her feet.
The attacker landed lightly, grinning.
"Oh?" the woman said, eyes gleaming. "You caught my [Luna Comet] with one hand?"
She straightened, revealing tanned skin, long white hair, and a white one-piece leotard trimmed in violet. Rabbit ears twitched atop her head as excitement rolled off her in waves.
"That just makes it way more fun!" she laughed.
Ara released her, fox instincts bristling.
"Yo, Mirko," Hawks drawled. "Glad you could join. Even if you're not in the Top Ten."
"Zip it, bird-brain," Mirko snapped back without looking. "My instincts went haywire over here, so I came to check it out. And damn—what a jackpot."
She pointed directly at Ara. "I don't care if you're a vigilante or a hero. I just wanna fight you."
Before Mirko could move—
A chilling presence washed over the street.
Three figures arrived almost simultaneously.
A towering man with the imposing frame of an orca stepped forward, dressed sharply like a mafia don—Gang Orca, the Number Ten Hero.
Beside him, a man in a shinobi outfit appeared silently, eyes sharp enough to pierce steel—Edgeshot, the Number Five Hero.
And finally, a blond man with immaculate hair and pristine denim attire stepped into the light—Best Jeanist, the Number Four Hero.
"We responded immediately after Madam President issued the distress signal," Edgeshot said, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. His tone was calm, but there was no mistaking the tension beneath it.
"Though it seems," Gang Orca added, folding his arms, "that we arrived after the decisive moment."
Best Jeanist adjusted his gloves as he surveyed the area, eyes narrowing slightly. "What surprises me most is not the conclusion of the battle—but its aftermath. This city block is... pristine."
Ciel scoffed, turning his head slightly toward the ambulance where Endeavor lay unconscious. "Pristine now, sure. But about ten minutes ago, this entire block was a flaming wasteland. Courtesy of that walking furnace over there."
Lu nodded, visibly exhausted but still standing upright. "We used everything we had left to restore it. Every building. Every street. We didn't want civilians paying the price for someone else's recklessness."
Best Jeanist's gaze lingered on Lu and Ciel for a moment longer. "...That level of restoration would require an immense output of power."
Before anyone could respond—
A heavy presence pressed down on the area.
It was not loud. It did not announce itself with explosions or light.
It simply arrived.
Footsteps echoed against the pavement as a tall figure emerged from the street's edge, walking forward with unhurried confidence. Dark aura bled from him like heat from a forge—dense, oppressive, and suffocating.
Mirko stiffened instantly.
Gang Orca's breath caught in his throat.
Their animal instincts screamed the same warning.
Run.
This presence alone could kill them.
"All that rage," the man said casually, his voice deep and carrying easily through the air. "And yet... you held back. I'm impressed, Ciel."
Everyone turned.
Seighart stepped into full view, his expression relaxed, almost amused—but the pressure rolling off him was anything but. The air felt heavier with every step he took forward.
All Might, however, barely reacted.
He had felt this aura before.
Many times.
And he had lost to it—every single time.
Edgeshot subtly shifted his stance, every instinct telling him this man was dangerous beyond measure. Still, he met Seighart's gaze.
"...Who are you?" Edgeshot asked carefully. "And why are you releasing such an overwhelming aura in a populated area?"
Seighart smirked.
"So you can feel it too," he said approvingly. "Good. That tells me Japan hasn't gone soft."
He placed a hand against his chest in a mock gesture of courtesy. "Name's Seighart Ercnard. Commander of the Grand Chase."
Recognition rippled through the group.
All Might stepped forward, smiling broadly. "Welcome to Japan, Highlander. It's been two years."
Seighart's face lit up instantly. "Mighty-boy!" He strode over and clapped All Might on the back—hard enough to make the pavement crack slightly beneath their feet. "You still standing strong, I see!"
All Might laughed, unfazed. "Barely keeping up, as always."
Mirko stared between them, eyes wide with interest before her trademark grin spread across her face. "So you're the boss, huh? No wonder those guys are monsters. Man... I really wanna fight you."
Seighart glanced her way, amused. "Careful what you wish for, little rabbit. I never pull my punches."
He then turned his attention back to Ciel. "Honestly, I expected a corpse. You had every reason to kill him."
Several of Japan's heroes stiffened at that statement.
Ciel met Seighart's gaze without hesitation. "I considered it."
Lu's hand tightened slightly around his sleeve, but she said nothing.
"Killing him would've been easy," Ciel continued, his voice cold and controlled. "But that'll be empty. He still has debts to pay. And I intend to make sure he pays every last one."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Seighart nodded slowly. "Good. That restraint suits you better."
Ciel straightened, helping Lu fully to her feet. "That said—if any of you decide you want to pick up where he left off..."
His eyes swept across the assembled heroes, lingering briefly on Mirko, then Edgeshot, then Best Jeanist.
"...Lu and I will be happy to oblige. Just don't expect mercy."
Lu smiled faintly beside him. "You'll end up like him. Or worse."
With that, the two turned away.
They walked down the street together, their steps steady despite their exhaustion.
Seighart watched them go for a moment before speaking again.
"Ara. Rena."
Both women immediately turned to him.
"Follow them," Seighart ordered calmly. "Someone needs to keep an eye on Ciel right now."
They nodded without hesitation and moved after Lu and Ciel, disappearing into the distance.
Seighart cracked his neck, as his aura finally receding slightly. "Seiker and I will stay here for now."
Japan's heroes remained silent, watching as the Grand Chase commander stood among them like a war veteran calmly surveying a battlefield already won.
The message was clear.
This was no vigilante group.
And Japan had just become the center of something far bigger than it was prepared for.
----------
The events of that day did not fade quietly into obscurity.
They exploded.
The battle between Lu and Ciel against Endeavor had been caught in full by a news helicopter that just so happened to be in the area, initially dispatched to cover reports of large-scale hero activity. What it recorded instead was something far beyond routine hero work.
The footage showed everything.
Endeavor's first strike—unprovoked, merciless, flames raining down without regard for the officers or civilians present. The moment Lu and Ciel reacted, pulling the police to safety before even turning to face him. The cold precision that followed. The seamless coordination. The terrifying ease with which Japan's Number Two Hero was dismantled—not through brute chaos, but through complete tactical domination.
And then there was the demon.
A massive, blue-hued monstrosity summoned from a demonic circle beneath Endeavor's feet—its presence alone enough to silence the city. It had treated Endeavor not as a rival, but as an object. A toy. Slamming him again and again until there was no fight left in his body.
The footage ended with Endeavor broken and unmoving, Lu and Ciel still standing, and moments later—the city block restoring itself as though time itself had been reversed.
Within minutes, the video was everywhere.
Social media platforms crashed under the sheer volume of shares. News sites replaced their headlines mid-article. Forums erupted into arguments, theories, fear, awe, and outrage.
"Endeavor HUMILIATED."
"Foreign Heroes or Walking Disasters?"
"Who Are the Grand Chase—And Why Did Japan Let Them In?"
Debates raged across forums and livestreams. Some praised the duo for exposing Endeavor's recklessness. Others feared the implication of power so overwhelming that even Japan's strongest heroes could not respond.
And in homes across the country, people watched.
At the Todoroki residence, the living room was unusually quiet—save for the sound of the broadcast replaying on loop.
Fuyumi stood near the television, hands clasped together tightly. Natsuo sat on the couch, leaning forward, eyes gleaming as the footage showed Endeavor crashing through another building.
"Hah!" Natsuo barked out a sharp laugh. "That's what you get, you shitty old man!"
Fuyumi flinched. "Natsuo... he's still our father."
"So?" Natsuo snapped back without hesitation. "Didn't stop him from turning this family into hell. Watching him get wrecked like that? Honestly? Feels deserved."
Fuyumi opened her mouth to respond, then hesitated. Her gaze drifted to the screen again—toward the moment Endeavor unleashed Hellfire Storm, only for Lu to stand unmoved within the inferno.
"...I don't like it," she said softly. "Not the way this ended. Not the way he attacked them first. Not the way it all looked."
Natsuo scoffed. "You're kidding, right? That was the cleanest karma delivery I've ever seen."
"Shoto?" Fuyumi asked gently. "You haven't said anything."
Shoto stood near the window, arms crossed, eyes fixed not on the television—but on its reflection in the glass.
Back at USJ, he had believed—no, known—that he could beat them.
That confidence crumbled now.
Lu and Ciel had not fought Endeavor like challengers desperate to win.
They fought him like a problem to be solved.
"They're not heroes," Shoto finally said.
Natsuo blinked. "Uh... yeah? No kidding?"
"That's not what I mean," Shoto replied, voice low. "They don't fight like heroes. They fight like something else entirely."
He clenched his fist.
"And I don't think I could beat them. Not now. Maybe not ever."
The room fell silent.
At the Midoriya residence, Izuku sat hunched over his desk, notebook already half-filled—yet woefully insufficient.
His pen moved furiously as he replayed the footage frame by frame on his laptop.
"Movement speed exceeds Endeavor's reaction window... portal-based swapping... structural restoration..."
He swallowed.
"This isn't even close to everything," he muttered.
Izuku paused the video on the moment Lu and Ciel restored the city block, eyes wide.
"They fought at full power... and still fixed everything."
His heart pounded with equal parts fear and admiration.
Heroes broke things.
These two... undid destruction.
News outlets scrambled to keep up. The League of Villains' USJ attack—once the dominant headline—was quickly buried beneath speculation surrounding the Grand Chase.
At a grimy bar hidden deep within Kamino Ward, Tomura Shigaraki watched the broadcast with shaking hands.
He slammed his palms into the floor, cracking the tile beneath his fingers.
"DAMN IT!" he screeched. "Days—DAYS of planning, and nobody's talking about us anymore! They forgot the League entirely!"
The screen replayed Lu and Ciel's finishing move.
"They stole everything!" Shigaraki hissed. "The fear. The attention. The spotlight!"
A second screen flickered to life.
"Not necessarily."
The voice was calm. Controlled.
Shigaraki froze, then turned eagerly. "Sensei...?"
"Fear," the voice continued, "is not sustained by visibility alone. It thrives in uncertainty."
Shigaraki's breathing slowed.
"With everyone focused on them," the voice said, "you have space. Time. Freedom to grow without interference."
Shigaraki nodded slowly. "...Strike when they stop looking."
"Precisely. Build your strength. Expand your reach."
"But how?" Shigaraki asked, teeth scraping together. "It's just me and Kurogiri."
A pause.
"Then invite others," the voice said smoothly. "Everyone wants to belong somewhere."
Shigaraki grinned, fingers twitching. "A party..."
The screen went dark.
Back at the Grand Chase base in Tokyo, exhaustion hung heavy in the air.
Ciel collapsed onto the couch the moment he entered, his guns clattering softly onto the floor beside him. His shoulders sagged—not from physical strain alone, but from something deeper.
Rena felt it instantly.
The wind around him was turbulent. Violent.
Ara's ears twitched as she sensed it too—the dense, churning aura of rage still coiled tightly within him.
Both Rena and Ara turned off their Resonance form as they looked at Ciel in worry
Neither of them spoke.
Lu stood nearby, eyes closed, one hand resting lightly against Ciel's shoulder.
"How is he, Lu-chan?" Ara asked Lu.
"I'm siphoning his rage," she said quietly. "But it'll take time since Ciel met up with that flame barin."
Rena nodded, worry etched across her face. "He's never... held onto it like this before."
Before anyone could respond—
A blur of motion launched itself at Ciel from behind.
"Ciel-kuuun~ I'm heeere~!"
Arms wrapped around his neck, nearly choking him outright.
"W-Wha—!?" Rena gasped.
"Lithia!" Lu shouted. "GET OFF HIM!"
The culprit was a cheerful girl with light brown hair and bright green eyes, clinging to Ciel like a koala. A green and black pickaxe rested across her back.
"Lithia...!" Ciel wheezed. "Too—tight—!"
"Oh! Oops!" Lithia released him instantly. "Sorry!"
Ciel gasped for air, coughing as color returned to his face.
Ara blinked. "Lithia... when did you get here?"
"A few hours ago!" Lithia chirped. "Add-san came with me—he's in his room right now messing with the base security. He said Japan's networks are... 'adorably outdated.'"
A collective sigh of relief spread through the room.
"Well," Rena smiled weakly, "at least we're not being watched."
Ciel slowly stood, stretching his shoulders. The oppressive aura around him had softened—just a little.
"...Thanks," he muttered.
Lithia beamed. "Anytime! I'll hug the anger outta you again if you need!"
Lu glared. "You'll do no such thing."
Ciel chuckled faintly. "I think... I'm okay now."
Ara tilted her head. "Where are you going?"
Ciel glanced toward the kitchen. "To bake."
The girls froze.
"...Bake?" Rena echoed.
"Yeah," Ciel said, rolling up his sleeves. "Lithia helped. In her own... violent way."
Lu's eyes sparkled. "Ciel's sweets..."
Rena wiped her mouth instinctively.
"I'll make enough for everyone," Ciel added. "Including commanders and Seiker when they get back."
As he stepped into the kitchen, the tension finally began to lift.
Outside, the world trembled under rumors, fear, and awe.
Inside the base, for the first time that day—
There was peace.
And the smell of sugar and warmth slowly filled the air.
Hours had passed since Lu, Ciel, Ara, and Rena returned to the base—hours that felt unusually calm following Lithia's sudden and disruptive arrival. The living room, once a place of briefings and tense discussions, had transformed into something warmer. The soft glow of the overhead lights reflected off plates filled with sweets, pastries, and small cakes neatly arranged across the central table.
Ciel stood near the counter, arms loosely folded, quietly observing.
The lingering edge of his anger—sharp and cold when Lithia first appeared—had faded almost completely. In its place was something softer, something he rarely allowed himself to indulge in. Watching the girls enjoy the sweets he had prepared was more than enough to settle him. Ara's eyes sparkled with every bite, Rena maintained her usual composure but returned for seconds, and Lu...
Ciel exhaled slowly.
Lu had cream smudged across her cheek, oblivious as she laughed at something Ara whispered to her. Without thinking, Ciel stepped forward, lifting a napkin and gently wiping the cream away. His movements were careful, almost reverent.
Lu blinked in surprise, then flushed faintly.
"There," Ciel said quietly.
He felt his heart tighten in his chest—not from pain, but from something dangerously close to weakness.
Outwardly, Ciel was calm, collected, and often cold. Yet there was one truth everyone close to him knew: he was utterly defenseless against cute things. Lu, with her petite frame and expressive features, was the worst offender. More than once, he had caught himself treating her like a child—something Lu tolerated only because she knew it came from affection rather than condescension.
Lithia, meanwhile, leaned casually against the armrest beside him, far closer than Lu appreciated.
Ciel didn't seem to mind her proximity in the slightest.
Lithia knew Lu and Ciel were engaged. That fact alone should have kept most people at a respectful distance. Yet Lithia had never been one to care about unspoken boundaries. Her manner was direct, bold, and unapologetically intimate.
Lu felt irritation simmer beneath the surface. To her, Lithia was an intruder—a freeloader stealing time that should have belonged to her and Ciel alone.
And yet... deep down, Lu understood.
Lithia's straightforward nature had helped Ciel more than once. She challenged him when he isolated himself, forced him to confront uncomfortable truths, and—perhaps most importantly—stood by him without fear. That grudging respect dulled Lu's resentment, though it did not erase it.
The clink of porcelain echoed softly as someone set a plate down.
Footsteps followed.
Ciel's gaze lifted toward the staircase just as a figure descended into view.
The young man had long white hair tied neatly into a ponytail, sharp violet eyes that missed nothing, and an air of detached curiosity. He wore a pristine white scientist's coat over white pants and a light violet long-sleeved shirt—an outfit that seemed more ceremonial than practical.
"Hm?" The man's eyes immediately locked onto the table. "Oh. Ciel's sweets. Just what I needed."
Before anyone could stop him, he reached out and grabbed a cupcake.
"Add," Ciel said flatly, though there was no real irritation in his voice. "Did you finish updating the security systems?"
Edward Grenroe—better known as Add—took a bite, chewing thoughtfully before answering.
"I finished a few minutes ago," he said with a smirk. "I came down to investigate the noise. Turns out, it's just chaos disguised as dessert."
Add was one of the brightest minds within the Grand Chase, rivaled only by Mari. When it came to technology, innovation, and systems design, no one surpassed him. Even the advanced researchers of I-Island struggled to keep pace with his work.
Lu tilted her head slightly. "I'm surprised you're here without Eve. You usually don't go anywhere without her."
Add swallowed and shrugged.
"She's in England right now," he replied calmly. "Got assigned a mission involving ancient debris. Why England? Why debris? No idea. Orders came from the commander before he came here."
That immediately drew attention.
Ancient debris was never a trivial matter.
Rena frowned faintly, Ara exchanged a glance with Lu, and even Ciel's expression hardened just a fraction. Before anyone could speculate further, the sound of the front door opening cut through the room.
Two familiar presences entered.
Seighart stepped inside first, his posture relaxed but authoritative as ever. Beside him was Seiker, scanning the room with sharp, tactical awareness. Behind them followed two additional figures.
One was a woman with long blonde hair cascading down her back and striking blue eyes that carried confidence and experience. She wore a sleeveless top, a black skirt, and a white long coat. A pair of pistols rested securely at her waist, worn not as decoration, but as extensions of herself.
The other was a man with light gray hair and calm teal-green eyes. He wore a black shirt and pants beneath a white long coat adorned with teal linings and gold accents. In his right hand hung a pendulum, swaying gently as he walked. His smile was serene—almost angelic.
"Commander, you're back," Rena said, standing slightly straighter.
"Hm," Seighart replied. "And we picked up a couple of strays at the airport."
The blonde woman smiled easily. "Nice to see you all again."
Anna Testarossa—better known as Rose.
The man beside her inclined his head politely. "It has been some time."
Ainchase Ishmael or better known as Ain.
Rose glanced around the room, taking in the gathered group and the relaxed atmosphere. "Looks like we'll be setting up operations here for a while," she said casually. "I hope that won't be a problem."
"No objections," Seiker replied immediately.
Ain's gaze settled on Lu and Ciel, his smile softening almost imperceptibly.
"Though Elsword-kun isn't here," he said gently, "it's reassuring to see familiar faces. It helps... keep my thoughts steady."
Lu returned the smile, sensing the subtle weight behind his words.
With everyone gathered, the base felt fuller than it had in a long time. Comfortable—but tense beneath the surface.
Whatever lay ahead, this calm would not last.
And everyone in the room knew it.
"So," Rena began, breaking the comfortable lull that had settled over the room, "how did things go with the pro heroes?"
Seighart leaned back slightly, arms crossed, while Seiker reached for the plate of cookies near the center table. The atmosphere was relaxed, but the topic itself carried weight.
"Well," Seiker said as he removed his gloves and neatly set them aside, taking two cookies without hesitation, "let's just say it ended smoothly enough. With our Level Seven Clearance, they couldn't do much—at least not officially."
He paused, biting into one cookie before continuing.
"Morally speaking, though? They wanted answers. Lots of them. Especially about why we're here at all."
"That was inevitable," Rena replied calmly.
Lithia crossed her arms, her expression sharp. "And the press? When do we address them?"
Seighart's eyes darkened slightly.
"September," he said firmly. "Any sooner, and we risk destabilizing this country even further. If we reveal the true history of this planet now—before they're even prepared—it will overwhelm them."
The room fell quiet.
"Tch." Add clicked his tongue, leaning back in his chair with visible irritation. "Fair enough. Humans fear change. Always have. And governments?" His lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "They'll use any excuse they can find to shut down anything they don't control."
He knew that reality all too well. Before joining the Grand Chase, Add had faced that resistance repeatedly—brilliant ideas buried under fear, regulations weaponized against progress.
"And it's still April," Ara noted thoughtfully. "That gives us five months."
"Exactly," Seighart replied. "And that is more than enough time."
There was no arrogance in his voice—only certainty.
Seighart had seen civilizations rise and collapse. He understood human behavior intimately. If he believed five months was sufficient, then it was.
"Well," Lu said after a brief pause, her voice measured, "hopefully they'll understand us eventually. I can already tell after just one day here... Japan's view on people is painfully black and white. Very little room for nuance. Only a handful are ever allowed to exist in the gray."
Both Ciel and Seighart exhaled quietly, their reactions nearly identical.
They were not surprised.
Every member of the Grand Chase was already aware of Japan's societal structure. It was a system deeply ingrained into the collective consciousness—one shaped by fear, regulation, and a dangerously rigid moral compass.
From birth, individuals were categorized by their quirks.
If your quirk was powerful, flashy, or visually impressive, you were praised. Encouraged. Labeled as potential hero material.
If it wasn't?
Then you were quietly pushed aside.
Those with non-flashy quirks—supportive, passive, or situational abilities—were often told to give up before they even began. Dreams of heroism were dismissed as unrealistic, irresponsible, or outright foolish.
And for those with mutation-type quirks or abilities deemed "bizarre"?
They were feared.
Labeled as villains before ever committing a crime.
In Japan, intent mattered less than legality.
Help someone without a license? You're a villain.
Use your quirk to save a life without authorization? You're a villain.
Even assisting an elderly person across the street—if done with a quirk—could land you in legal trouble.
The law did not care about morality. Only compliance.
To help, you had to be a hero.
To be a hero, you needed a license.
And everyone else?
They were reduced to a single label: Damsels in Distress.
Citizens were conditioned to believe they were helpless. That a hero would always arrive. That intervention was not their responsibility. That survival depended on waiting.
As a result, people stopped trying.
They stopped thinking.
They stopped helping one another.
And the quirkless... they suffered the most.
In Japan, being quirkless was treated as a defect—a failure of existence. From childhood, they were reminded of what they lacked. Excluded from opportunities. Ridiculed, dismissed, ignored.
Many were told outright that their lives would never amount to anything meaningful.
The statistics were devastating.
Japan had the highest suicide rate among the quirkless population on the planet—an estimated sixty percent.
Sixty percent.
A number so horrifying that most governments refused to acknowledge it publicly.
Silence settled over the room as the weight of that truth lingered.
The rest of the world was not perfect—but it had adapted.
Outside Japan, regulations evolved.
Citizens without hero licenses were permitted to assist heroes under strict conditions. Time limits were imposed. Oversight was enforced. But people were allowed to act.
And because of that, ordinary individuals found purpose.
They trained.
They learned.
They shined in their own ways.
As for the quirkless?
They were not discarded.
They were given opportunities—education, support, and alternative paths to contribute meaningfully to society. They were allowed dignity.
And with the combined efforts of the Laurenfrost Foundation—under Ciel's leadership—and international reform initiatives, forty percent of the world's quirkless population had achieved something once considered impossible.
They became heroes.
Not through quirks.
But through technology, training, strategy, and sheer determination.
Forty percent.
A number Japan still refused to believe.
Ciel finally spoke, his voice steady but cold.
"This country doesn't hate villains," he said. "It hates unpredictability. Anything it can't classify, control, or license becomes a threat."
"And we," Lu added quietly, "are everything they can't categorize."
Seighart straightened, his gaze sweeping across the group.
"That is precisely why we must be patient," he said. "Change forced too quickly breeds resistance. Change introduced gradually... becomes inevitable."
Seiker nodded. "Five months gives them time to see us not as invaders—but as allies."
"And if they still refuse?" Lithia asked.
Seighart's expression hardened, just slightly.
"Then," he replied, "we move forward anyway."
Because history did not wait for permission.
And neither would they. As that is what Grand Chase is.
----------
Musutafu General Hospital stood unusually quiet that night.
Despite its size, despite its reputation as one of Japan's most advanced medical facilities, there was a tension in the air that no amount of sterilized corridors or humming machines could dispel.
Endeavor's arrival had turned the hospital upside down.
When the paramedics brought him in—his body scorched, skin blistered, and flames long extinguished—the doctors moved immediately. Quirks activated in unison. Healing-type abilities, regeneration quirks, stamina restoration, cellular acceleration—everything they had.
None of it worked.
The burns refused to close.
The wounds refused to knit.
Even worse, Endeavor's body reacted as though the healing itself was being rejected.
Recovery Girl arrived shortly after, her expression grim as she assessed the situation personally. She placed a hand on Endeavor's chest, her cane resting against the floor as she activated her Quirk.
Nothing.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
"I can tell that big lunk of flames has more than enough stamina to fuel my Quirk," she muttered, tapping her cane against the tiles in irritation. "But it's not responding the way it should."
The diagnosis spread quickly among the staff.
Healing Quirks were ineffective.
Completely.
With no other choice, the hospital reverted to traditional medicine—manual treatment, surgical intervention, pain management, and long-term recovery protocols.
It was archaic by hero standards.
And deeply unsettling.
By the end of the night, Endeavor lay alone in a private room, wrapped almost entirely in bandages. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, each machine quietly doing what Quirks could not. His breathing was steady—but labored.
A shadow loomed near the doorway.
All Might stood there in his gaunt, skeletal form, his posture heavy as he observed the fallen Number One Hero.
"This curse..." he said quietly. "It's theirs."
Recovery Girl looked up sharply. "You know what caused this?"
"Yes." All Might nodded. "Luciela-shoujo and Ciel-shounen's power applies a curse. It prevents any form of healing related to Quirks."
Her eyes widened. "That's... extreme."
"It's personal," All Might replied softly.
He stepped further into the room, his gaze never leaving Endeavor.
"And Ciel-shounen has every right to do what he did."
Recovery Girl stared at him.
She had expected condemnation. A lecture about justice. About restraint.
Not this.
"To think," she said slowly, "that someone like you—who preaches justice and fairness—would allow a grudge to go unanswered."
All Might did not flinch.
"I am the Symbol of Peace," he said. "But I am also human."
His voice dropped.
"There are times... when I would let past grievances be."
Recovery Girl studied him carefully, then glanced back at Endeavor.
"Well," she murmured, "I never thought I'd hear that from you."
All Might exhaled, shoulders sagging.
"I understand what Ciel-shounen is going through," he admitted. "I just hope... he doesn't include Enji's family in this."
That gave Recovery Girl pause.
Her brows furrowed. "It's that bad, huh?"
All Might nodded once.
Silence settled between them.
After a moment, they turned to leave the room. As they stepped into the hallway, All Might's phone suddenly blared to life.
"A PHONE CALL IS HERE! A PHONE CALL IS HERE!"
The volume echoed down the corridor.
Recovery Girl stopped walking and stared at him.
"You... chose that as your ringtone?"
All Might coughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "W-Well... it was my first piece of merchandise when I debuted as a hero. I figured... at the very least, I could keep it as a reminder."
She sighed. "Of all the reminders..."
All Might answered the call.
"Nezu?" he said.
"You're at the hospital right now, correct?" Nezu's voice came through, calm and inquisitive as ever. "How is Endeavor's condition?"
All Might sighed deeply. "Not good. His body is severely scorched, and recovery Quirks don't work on him. He'll have to be treated manually. The doctors estimate... three weeks."
"I see," Nezu replied. "So it's that serious."
"Yes."
"Very well. I want you at U.A. tomorrow. We need to assess the situation regarding the League of Villains."
All Might blinked. "The League?"
"For a moment," he added cautiously, "I thought you were calling about the Grand Chase."
Nezu chuckled. "I would like to. But if we leave the League unattended, they will take advantage of the distraction and strike when we least expect it."
There was a brief pause.
"And as for the Grand Chase," Nezu continued casually, "I spoke with their leader earlier. We've reached an agreement."
All Might felt a chill crawl up his spine.
"...What kind of agreement?"
"They'll be coming to U.A. next week," Nezu said cheerfully. "They've agreed to assist the Hero Course in their training."
Nezu's manic laughter echoed through the phone.
All Might stared at the screen in horror.
He hung up without another word.
Recovery Girl noticed immediately.
"...What happened?" she asked.
All Might swallowed.
"Let's just say," he said grimly, "that U.A. is going to become very chaotic next week."
He looked down the hallway, imagining the faces of the students.
"And I sincerely hope... they survive it."
Without another word, All Might turned and began the long walk home.
Unaware that the calm before the storm had already ended.
To Be Continued...