Chapter 4 - Chapter 3: The Grand Chase goes to UA

Three days had passed since the battle that shook Musutafu—and, with it, Japan's long-standing perception of heroes.

News outlets still replayed the footage on an endless loop. Endeavor, the Flame Hero and current Number Two, brought to his knees. His fire extinguished not by some grand villain uprising, but by two foreign heroes whose names had barely existed in Japan's public consciousness a week prior: Lu and Ciel. The images were grainy in places, angles obstructed by panicked civilians and emergency responders, but the outcome was undeniable. Endeavor had lost. Cleanly. Decisively.

And Japan had noticed.

In the days following the incident, something unprecedented occurred. Crime reports dropped—not gradually, but sharply. Armed robberies were interrupted before the first shot could be fired. Hostage situations dissolved without a single injury. Even street-level crime, the kind heroes usually ignored unless it escalated, was being addressed with near surgical precision.

The reason was simple.

The Grand Chase had resumed full operations after the ruckus that Endeavor caused.

Where Japanese heroes relied on dispatch calls, witness reports, and reactive deployment, the Grand Chase operated on foresight. With Add serving as their omnipresent eye—his advanced systems monitoring fluctuations in energy signatures, quirk usage, and anomalous movement patterns across entire districts—their response time bordered on the impossible. Criminal activity was intercepted mid-planning. Escape routes were blocked before suspects even realized they had been compromised.

More importantly, they left nothing behind.

No scorched streets. No collapsed buildings. No traumatized civilians caught in the crossfire of excessive force. Their engagements were swift, contained, and methodical, ending with suspects restrained and handed over to local authorities with full documentation already prepared.

The public reaction was immediate.

At first, it was disbelief. Then admiration. And finally, something far more dangerous—and far more powerful.

Hope.

Children gathered near operation zones, peeking from behind barricades and police lines, eyes wide as they watched figures move with a confidence and coordination they had never seen before. They whispered names to one another, imitated hand gestures, copied stances. Some even tried to replicate the poses they had seen Lu or Ciel take before entering a fight.

The Grand Chase noticed.

They always did.

Ciel, in particular, made it a point to kneel down after operations, meeting children at eye level. He spoke calmly, warmly, explaining that what they did was not something to imitate recklessly. She emphasized discipline. Training. Responsibility. Lu echoed the message in her own way—direct, firm, but never dismissive. Ciel might be harsh on others, but he can be supportive towards children.

"You do what you can do," he told them. "And you do it properly. Don't just look in a straight line, broaden your horizons and I'm sure you'll be a great hero."

For children whose quirks were labeled weak or useless, the Grand Chase offered something Japan's hero society rarely did: perspective. They challenged those children to think creatively, to consider applications beyond brute force. A quirk that produced bubbles could distract, obscure vision, or deliver chemical compounds. A mutation quirk deemed unattractive could grant natural armor or environmental adaptability.

And for those children whose quirks were whispered about in fear—acidic secretions, decay-adjacent abilities, monstrous transformations—the Grand Chase took a different approach entirely.

They listened.

They spoke with families. With educators. With the children themselves. They dismantled the idea that a quirk defined morality, appealing not to law, but to humanity. Slowly, hesitantly, trust was built.

The result was staggering.

Support for the Grand Chase surged—not just from civilians, but from individuals who had spent their lives on the fringes of society. Those with mutation quirks. Those branded as villain-coded before they ever made a choice of their own. They rallied behind the group, seeing in them a future where power did not automatically invite fear.

When Rose officially joined their operations, the shift intensified.

Her ability to materialize advanced support items seemingly out of thin air sent shockwaves through Japan's support industry. Corporations that had spent decades refining development pipelines suddenly found themselves staring at technology that bypassed manufacturing entirely. Executives requested demonstrations. Engineers demanded schematics. Contracts were proposed, revised, and re-proposed in the span of hours.

Rose declined them all—politely, but firmly.

Which only made them want it more.

Amid the rising tide of public discourse, the Hero Public Safety Commission issued a formal statement. Despite their popularity and effectiveness, the Grand Chase would not be included in Japan's Hero Billboard Chart. The reasoning was simple and legally sound: they were foreign heroes, operating under approval from the World Hero Association, not registered under Japan's domestic hero system.

The statement did little to curb public fascination.

If anything, it added fuel to the fire.

U.A. High School's conference room was unusually quiet.

Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the polished table where Japan's top educators and strategists sat gathered. Every seat was filled—save for two.

Eraserhead and Thirteen were still recovering from injuries sustained during the USJ incident.

At the head of the table sat Principal Nezu, his expression unreadable as ever. Around him were U.A.'s faculty: seasoned heroes, tacticians, and instructors who had seen decades of conflict. Standing near the far end was Detective Tsukauchi, hands clasped behind his back as he prepared to deliver his report.

"This is everything we've gathered on Shigaraki Tomura and the League of Villains," Tsukauchi began.

Every eye turned to him.

"I cross-referenced quirk registration records for every citizen in their twenties and thirties," he continued, projecting files onto the screen. "Specifically, those with disintegration-type quirks. Every lead ended the same way—nowhere."

A murmur passed through the room.

"The same applies to the individual known as Kurogiri. Warp-gate quirk, spatial manipulation. No census records. No registration forms. Either they've been operating under aliases for years, or they were never registered at all."

Tsukauchi exhaled quietly.

"For all intents and purposes, they're shadow people."

Several teachers leaned back in their chairs, expressions grim.

"So we're blind," Snipe said bluntly. "No names, no paper trail, no leverage."

"That's correct," Tsukauchi replied. "And once Shigaraki recovers from his injuries... I'm confident this isn't over."

All Might, seated near Nezu, shifted.

"The ringleader..." he murmured, his voice thin in his skeletal form.

Nezu glanced at him. "Something on your mind, All Might?"

He nodded slowly. "The plan they executed at USJ—it was reckless. But also... audacious. Under normal circumstances, it shouldn't have worked. Yet they committed fully."

All Might's eyes darkened.

"Shigaraki spoke nonsense—irrational ideas wrapped in logic that almost sounded coherent. He hid his own quirk, yet bragged endlessly about the Nomu's abilities. And when events didn't go his way... it was as if he became physically ill. Unstable."

He clenched a fist.

"It felt like he was trying to provoke me. Lead my actions."

Nezu folded his paws atop the table. "Even so, revealing their quirks so openly was a foolish mistake."

"Yes," All Might agreed. "But taken together—the pride in their 'possessions,' the simplistic worldview, the belief that everything would unfold as planned..."

He paused, then spoke the conclusion aloud.

"Shigaraki Tomura isn't a mastermind."

The room held its breath.

"He's a child," All Might said quietly. "A man-child. Someone with a toddler's sense of entitlement—believing he can do whatever he wants, simply because no one has ever told him otherwise."

Silence followed.

Vlad King's chair scraped sharply against the floor as he leaned forward, crimson eyes narrowing.

"You mean he's just like a kid with power or something?" he demanded, disbelief thick in his voice. "That's your conclusion?"

All Might did not flinch. He remained seated, hands resting calmly on his knees, but there was no mistaking the gravity in his gaze.

"It's not that simple," Midnight interjected before the discussion could harden further. She rested her chin against her palm, eyes thoughtful. "Some children never receive proper quirk counseling. If his power manifested early and violently—"

"And!?" Vlad King snapped, cutting her off. "What does that change? Plenty of people grow up with bad hands. They don't start declaring war on hero society!"

The room tensed.

Detective Tsukauchi raised a hand—not to silence, but to redirect.

"At USJ, we apprehended seventy-two villains," he said calmly.

The number landed heavily.

"They were not elite criminals. No masterminds. No ideological extremists. Most of them were third-rate thugs—back-alley criminals, repeat offenders, people who would normally scatter the moment a pro hero arrived."

He paused, letting the implication settle.

"And every single one of them swore allegiance to Shigaraki Tomura."

A low murmur rippled across the table.

"They followed him without question," Tsukauchi continued. "No contracts. No leverage. No coercion that we could identify."

Vlad King frowned, arms crossing. "You're saying they chose him."

"Yes," Tsukauchi replied. "And in an era oversaturated with heroes—where criminal pressure has only intensified—it's possible they were drawn to his simplicity. His brand of evil doesn't demand sophistication. It doesn't require long-term planning or ideological commitment."

Midnight exhaled slowly. "A childish worldview... but one that offers permission."

"Exactly," Tsukauchi said. "No nuance. No guilt. Just destruction framed as entitlement."

Snipe clicked his tongue under his breath.

"That's dangerous," he muttered. "Not because it's smart—but because it spreads."

Tsukauchi nodded. "Heroes have been invaluable in allowing us to conduct deeper investigations without distraction. We're expanding the police dragnet as we speak. More arrests are coming."

He bowed slightly. "That concludes my report."

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Nezu cleared his throat.

"Let us shift topics," the principal said lightly, though his eyes were sharp. "The Grand Chase."

The atmosphere changed instantly.

Snipe leaned back, one arm draped over his chair. "We reviewed their profiles when the HPSC announced their arrival," he said. "I'll be honest—those backgrounds are unsettling."

Images flickered across the screen.

Ciel Laurenfrost—head of the Laurenfrost Foundation, overseeing economic and technological sectors spanning continents.

Ara Haan—heiress of the White Fox Sect, an organization that produces China's finest fighters.

Seiker Farenghart—descended from one of Europe's top-ranked hero lineages, trained from childhood in combat doctrine that made Japan's hero curriculum look conservative.

"Royal bloodlines," Tsukauchi added quietly. "Brilliant scientists. Inventors. Military tacticians."

He folded his arms. "They are not ordinary heroes."

"So basically," Present Mic said, breaking the tension, "they're monsters in their own right."

Nezu did not disagree.

"Their power display against Endeavor made one thing very clear," the principal said. "They possess absolute control over their abilities. Not restraint—control. They unleash power precisely when and how they choose."

All Might's jaw tightened.

"And that," Nezu continued, "is what makes them dangerous."

Several heads turned toward All Might.

"Nezu," he said carefully, "I know what you're considering. I advise against any drastic action—especially toward Ciel-shounen."

Concern flickered across the table.

"Why are you singling him out?" Hound Dog asked, his growl low and instinctive. "Is there something wrong with the kid?"

All Might hesitated.

Then spoke.

"Ciel-shounen has no trust in Japan's heroes."

Silence.

"Well," Midnight said slowly, "that's... unfortunate."

"No," All Might corrected. "It's deliberate."

Eyes widened.

"And I am the exception," he added quietly.

Present Mic blinked. "Wait—what?"

"The root of it goes back twelve years ago," All Might said. "I cannot disclose details. As the incident requires Level Seven clearance."

Even Nezu stilled.

"I was involved in all of this," All Might continued. "Which is why I know this much. Whatever happened left an impression deep enough that Ciel-shounen does not believe Japan's hero system exists to protect people."

The weight of that statement pressed heavily on the room.

"So he hates us," Present Mic said bluntly.

All Might shook his head.

"No. At present, he tolerates us. But heroes who pursue fame, money, or ego..."

His voice hardened.

"That is when he flips the switch."

Unspoken memories surfaced—Ciel's gunshot grazing Bakugo's cheek. The coldness in his eyes. The unmistakable contempt.

Nezu tapped the table thoughtfully.

"Which suggests," the principal said, "that Chevalier despises those who resemble Bakugo-kun."

Hound Dog's ears twitched.

"I'll take over student counseling sessions," he said after a moment. "Long-term."

Nezu nodded. "I believe that will be necessary."

Then, casually—as if discussing curriculum changes—Nezu added:

"A few days ago, I spoke with the leader of the Grand Chase."

Every head snapped toward him.

"We discussed the future generation of heroes," Nezu continued. "And reached an agreement."

He smiled.

"Starting next week, the Grand Chase will be providing experiential guidance to Classes 1-A and 1-B."

The room exploded.

"THEY'RE COMING HERE?" Present Mic shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

"This is insanity!" Vlad King barked. "You're letting foreign operatives with unknown agendas into U.A.?"

All Might stood.

"Think about it," he said firmly. "Our students view their quirks through a single lens—combat efficiency within Japanese hero norms. The Grand Chase will challenge that."

"They'll show applications outside our framework," Nezu added. "Evolution through exposure."

Vlad King stared at All Might. "Are you serious?"

All Might met his gaze without hesitation.

"I'm absolutely certain."

And for the first time since USJ, the future of hero education shifted irrevocably.

----------

Several days passed after the Grand Chase firmly etched their presence into Japan's Hero Society.

Public opinion continued to shift, slowly but unmistakably, as discussions spread across news networks, forums, and late-night talk shows. To some, the Grand Chase represented a refreshing ideal—heroes who acted without spectacle or collateral damage. To others, they were an unsettling reminder that Japan's carefully structured hero system was not the only way power could be wielded responsibly.

Far from the spotlight, within a secluded district of Tokyo, the Grand Chase prepared to take their next step.

The mansion they had commandeered stood quiet and imposing, its modern exterior hiding layers of reinforced security and arcane countermeasures. Inside, activity was calm but purposeful. Lu adjusted her sleeves with practiced ease. Ara checked her spear to see if she sharpened it before they leave. Lithia checked her equipment meticulously, ensuring nothing was out of place.

Add stood near the center of the room, tapping away at a floating holographic interface only he could fully decipher.

Ciel, meanwhile, stood apart near the window.

He had not wanted to come.

The idea of stepping into U.A. High—Japan's symbol of institutional heroism—had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had voiced his refusal more than once in the previous days, citing efficiency, necessity, and a complete lack of interest.

Lu and Lithia had countered him relentlessly.

"This isn't about you," Lu had said plainly. "It's about shaping the next generation before they inherit the same flaws."

Reluctantly, Ciel had agreed.

Now, dressed in his usual composed attire, he adjusted his gloves once more, gaze fixed on the streets below. His expression betrayed nothing, but his thoughts were far from calm.

Elsewhere in the mansion, two new presences made themselves known.

Per Seighart's orders, additional members of the Grand Chase had arrived in Japan to reinforce their position.

The first was Jin Kaien.

A former member of the Silver Order—one of the world's most prestigious martial organizations—Jin carried himself with a relaxed confidence that belied his lethality. His fiery, spiked red hair framed sharp amber eyes that missed very little. He wore a fighter's outfit that left his midriff exposed, a white headband wrapped around his forehead, and black gauntlets secured tightly over his hands.

Jin rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he surveyed the mansion's interior. "Not bad," he muttered with a grin. "At least I can rest here from time to time."

The second arrival was far quieter.

Lass Isolet stood near the shadows, posture straight and unmoving. Short silver hair fell neatly over dark blue eyes that carried the weight of countless contracts completed without hesitation. He wore a black-and-blue long-sleeved shirt, dark pants, and heavy boots built for combat. A long katana rested securely across his back, its presence as natural to him as breathing.

And he's one of the world's deadliest mercenaries.

And unlike Jin, Lass said nothing.

Both men had been briefed quickly. Their role for now was simple—remain at the mansion, familiarize themselves with the terrain, and stand by. With Lass' half- brother, Rufus Wild already operating elsewhere, their presence ensured that the Grand Chase's base would not be vulnerable in their absence.

Add approached the central console, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I've finished deploying Saturn," he announced, fingers dancing across his tablet. "Full-spectrum surveillance, automated countermeasures, intrusion prediction algorithms. If someone so much as breathes too close to the perimeter, we'll know."

A faint digital hum rippled through the mansion as the system went live.

"Good," Ara replied. "That allows us to operate without distraction."

As the five designated representatives gathered near the entrance, a familiar presence approached.

Seighart strode toward them, coffee mug in hand, his expression was unreadable but relaxed. He looked over each of them in turn, as if committing the moment to memory.

"You all ready?" he asked casually, taking a sip.

"Don't worry, Commander," Ara said smoothly. "We'll handle it."

Seighart's gaze lingered on Ciel.

"Ciel," he said bluntly, "I expect you not to kill anyone you don't like."

The words were delivered flatly, without humor.

Ciel paused.

Then answered just as flatly, "That depends on them."

Seighart snorted, shaking his head. "Figures."

Add raised his tablet slightly. "With Saturn active, the mansion security is fully autonomous. I can leave without concern."

"Good," Seighart replied. He stepped aside, giving them a clear path to the exit. "I won't keep you long. Go on ahead."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

"And give those brats hell."

They all knew exactly who he meant.

Outside, the morning air was crisp. Ciel stood beside the vehicle, already seated in the driver's position, engine humming softly. One by one, Lu, Ara, Lithia, and Add entered the car, the doors closing with a quiet finality.

As the mansion faded into the distance, the vehicle pulled onto the road leading toward U.A. High School.

Ahead of them lay the heart of Japan's hero education system.

And behind calm expressions and measured silence, the Grand Chase prepared to confront it—not with hostility, but with truth.

The road stretched forward.

And nothing about U.A. would remain the same.

----------

U.A. High School returned to its routine with the start of a new week—but beneath the familiar structure of classes and schedules, something had undeniably changed.

The campus was quieter in the early hours of the morning, yet the tension that lingered from the USJ incident had not fully dissipated. Students moved with more awareness now, conversations carrying a sharper edge than before. For the first time, many of them understood—truly understood—that hero training was not a simulation. It was preparation for a reality that did not care how young they were.

Inside Class 1-A, the students were already seated, chatter filling the room as they waited for their homeroom teacher to arrive.

"Hey, Ojiro-kun," Hagakure said brightly, leaning toward the desk beside her. "Did you see the news about the Grand Chase yesterday?"

Ojiro nodded, his tail flicking slightly behind him. "Yeah. Another full day of operations without a single building damaged."

"And not just that!" Hagakure added excitedly. "The USJ incident barely even gets mentioned anymore!"

Several heads turned at that.

"Seriously..." Kaminari groaned, slumping back in his chair. "They totally stole our spotlight. That was supposed to be our debut as heroes."

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly. "I mean, they did save everyone."

"Yeah, but still," Kaminari muttered. "I was this close to fame."

Shoji folded his arms thoughtfully. "Their involvement made a massive difference. They don't just arrest villains—they support the community too."

His voice softened slightly. "Yesterday, my family received supplies. Medical kits, food, even power generators. They said it was from the Grand Chase."

A brief silence followed.

"That's... actually kind of amazing," Mina said, leaning back with her hands behind her head. "Heroes don't usually do stuff like that."

"But think about it," Sero said slowly. "What do you think would've happened at USJ if they didn't show up?"

The mood shifted instantly.

"...You've got a point," Tokoyami said, eyes closed beneath his bangs. "Do you think All Might could've defeated that creature?"

Koda's small voice followed. "He... he said himself that fighting it would cause more harm than good."

No one contradicted him.

Mina broke the tension with a forced grin. "Still, I'm glad they came when they did."

Several students nodded.

"Todoroki-san," Yaoyorozu said gently, turning toward him. "Do you have any news about your father? After... everything."

Todoroki stared at his desk for a long moment before answering.

"The doctors said quirk-based healing didn't work," he said quietly. "They had to treat his injuries manually."

Eyes widened around the room.

"They estimate he'll be discharged in two weeks," Todoroki continued. "As for returning to hero work... they couldn't give a timeline."

"...That bad," Asui murmured. "Kero."

Silence settled once more.

"Iida-kun," Uraraka said after a moment. "You've been really quiet. What do you think about the Grand Chase?"

Iida adjusted his glasses, posture straightening.

"At first, I was furious," he admitted. "A foreign group operating freely in Japan without being registered—it felt like a direct violation of our system."

He paused, then continued more thoughtfully.

"But as the days passed, I began to understand them. Their efficiency, their discipline... their approach reminds me of my brother."

Midoriya blinked. "Your brother?"

"Yes," Iida said. "One of them personally visited my brother's agency. They provided equipment—support tools designed to improve operational speed and safety."

Uraraka's eyes widened. "Wait... really?"

"They said it was necessary," Iida replied. "That if Japan's heroes were to work alongside them—even indirectly—they needed to be able to keep up. And one of their agents, I think he calls himself Ain. He just smiled even though I lashed out at him, yet he understood why I did that and he was never mad about it."

Midoriya leaned forward, scribbling notes instinctively. "That's incredible..."

"Tch," Bakugo clicked his tongue loudly. "So what? Those extras think they're better than us?"

No one responded.

"...By the way," Midoriya said, glancing toward the door. "Who's our homeroom teacher today? I mean, Aizawa-sensei was seriously injured."

"Yeah," Asui added. "Even if the Grand Chase healed him, I don't think he'd—"

The door slid open.

Eraserhead walked in.

The class froze.

Aizawa Shouta looked... normal. No bandages. No visible scars. His tired eyes scanned the room as he slipped his capture weapon over his shoulders.

"Good morning," he said flatly. "You're all seated. That's good. You're learning."

The class erupted.

"ERASERHEAD-SENSEI!?"

"YOU'RE ALIVE!?"

"YOU LOOK FINE!?"

Iida shot to his feet, arm raised. "Sensei! Are you truly fit for duty!?"

"I'm cleared," Aizawa replied. "Recovery Girl gave the green light. I've also been fully briefed on last week's incident."

The students quickly straightened.

"Now," Aizawa continued, eyes sharp. "I have an important announcement."

A heavy silence fell.

"The battle," he said slowly, "is not over."

Panic sparked instantly.

"Don't tell me—" Midoriya whispered.

"More villains!?" Mineta squeaked.

Aizawa let the tension hang for exactly one second longer than necessary.

"The U.A. Sports Festival is approaching."

Dead silence.

Then—

"THAT'S A NORMAL SCHOOL EVENT!!"

The entire class shouted in unison—everyone except Bakugo, who grinned fiercely, and Todoroki, who remained impassive.

Aizawa sighed.

"Quiet down."

His eyes flared crimson as his quirk activated, the familiar pressure washing over the classroom like an invisible weight. Conversations died instantly. Even Kaminari froze mid-whisper, and Mineta snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

"That's better," Aizawa said flatly.

Iida raised his hand—this time more cautiously, his posture still rigid with formality.

"S-Sensei," he began, voice controlled but tense. "This announcement feels rather sudden. Wouldn't holding an event of this scale invite another attack? Especially after what happened at the USJ?"

Aizawa exhaled through his nose.

"You're not wrong," he admitted. "And that concern was raised."

He leaned against the desk, arms folded.

"However, after recent events, Principal Nezu made the call. The Sports Festival will proceed as scheduled."

A murmur rippled through the class.

"The reasoning is simple," Aizawa continued. "First, to show the country that U.A. High remains one of the world's premier hero academies. Second, to show the villains that we don't fold because of a single incident."

His gaze sharpened.

"And third—most importantly—because the U.A. Sports Festival is an opportunity that cannot simply be postponed."

Mineta's hand trembled as he raised it halfway.

"B-But, sensei," he squeaked, "it's just a sports festival, right? Can't you just... cancel it until next year?"

Midoriya turned toward him immediately.

"You don't understand, Mineta-kun," he said, voice earnest. "The Sports Festival isn't just a school event."

Aizawa nodded.

"Midoriya's correct. The U.A. Sports Festival is one of the largest public events in Japan."

He paused, letting the history sink in.

"Before quirks became widespread, the Olympics were considered the world's greatest sporting event. But now? They're a shadow of what they used to be."

Several students straightened.

"In modern Japan," Aizawa went on, "the U.A. Sports Festival fills that role. The entire nation watches. Heroes. Agencies. Corporations. Government officials."

Yaoyorozu's eyes lit up with understanding. "Which means... all top-ranked heroes will be observing."

"Yes," Aizawa confirmed. "This is where students are scouted."

"And after graduation," Kaminari added, rubbing the back of his neck, "most people join a pro hero agency as sidekicks, right?"

Jirou nodded. "Yeah. And a lot of them never leave."

The room grew quieter.

"Some heroes miss their chance to go independent," Jirou continued. "They become sidekicks for life because they didn't stand out when it mattered."

Aizawa didn't correct her.

"That's reality," he said simply. "The Sports Festival is where paths diverge."

Sero raised his hand next. "Sensei, um... are you aware of the group called the Grand Chase?"

Aizawa glanced at him.

"I am," he replied. "Principal Nezu briefed me the moment I regained consciousness."

Several students leaned forward.

"For a group that started as vigilantes," Aizawa continued, "their operational efficiency is exceptional. Minimal collateral damage. Clear objectives. Rational execution. That is something that you brats should do once you've become pros."

He paused.

"It's not how Japan does things—but I can respect it in a rational standpoint."

That alone sent a ripple of surprise through the class.

"What about them?" Aizawa asked.

Sero hesitated, then shook his head. "Nothing, sir."

"Good," Aizawa replied. "Then listen carefully."

He straightened.

"Joining a famous agency may grant you experience and visibility. But your time is limited."

The words hit harder than expected.

"If you intend to go pro, then the Sports Festival is your gateway. One chance per year. Three chances in your entire student career."

His eyes swept across the room.

"If you slack off—even once—you'll pay for it. Not immediately. But when your future closes its doors."

A heavy silence followed.

"Yes, sensei!" the class responded in unison.

Bakugo didn't speak—but his grin was feral.

Todoroki said nothing—but his focus sharpened.

"Good," Aizawa said. "Then there's one more matter."

The class perked up.

"After lunch break," he continued, "all of you will report to Gym Alpha."

Gym Alpha.

"Along with All Might," Aizawa added, "you'll be participating in a special joint class with Class 1-B."

Whispers broke out immediately.

"A joint class?"

"With 1-B?"

"Is this combat training?"

Yaoyorozu raised her hand. "Sensei, may I ask what the lesson will entail?"

Aizawa shook his head.

"I know," he said. "But I'm not telling you."

Groans echoed across the room.

"You'll find out when you arrive," he finished. "Homeroom dismissed."

With that, Aizawa turned and exited the classroom, capture weapon trailing behind him.

The door slid shut.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then the bell rang.

Cementoss entered shortly after, signaling the start of the first period. Literature class began, but few students were truly paying attention.

Thoughts drifted.

To the Sports Festival.

To pro heroes watching from the stands.

And to the mysterious special class waiting for them after lunch.

Unbeknownst to them—

Five figures were already drawing closer to U.A. High.

And by the end of the day, the students' understanding of what it meant to be a hero would be tested—not by villains, but by reality itself.

----------

The moment the bell rang, the classroom atmosphere shifted.

Lunch break had officially begun, but instead of the usual scramble for food, the air inside Class 1-A buzzed with barely contained excitement. Conversations overlapped, chairs scraped against the floor, and more than a few students were already standing, unable to sit still.

"The Sports Festival's almost here!" Kirishima exclaimed, fists clenched as he pumped his arms enthusiastically. "Man, this is getting me fired up!"

"I know, right?" Sero added, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "If we put on a good show and stand out, that's basically our first real step toward becoming pros."

Sato nodded firmly. "Coming to U.A. was totally worth it."

Tokoyami, seated near the window, rested his chin on his hand, eyes half-lidded but sharp. "Opportunities of this magnitude are fleeting," he said solemnly. "We are granted only a few chances. We must ensure none are wasted."

"Okay, but now I'm freaking out!" Hagakure suddenly blurted out, her voice echoing from what appeared to be empty air. "How am I supposed to get noticed when I'm invisible? I'm literally invisible!"

Ojiro flinched slightly before turning toward her voice. "I-I'm sure the pros will notice you if you give it everything you've got," he said earnestly. "You're strong, Hagakure-san. That'll shine through."

"Really?" she asked, hopeful.

Before Ojiro could respond, Aoyama dramatically flipped his hair, light glinting off his belt.

"Oh dear, how tragic," he sighed flamboyantly. "I, on the other hand, will suffer terribly. I stand out merely by existing. The scouts' eyes will be unable to look away."

He struck a pose, finger pointed toward Koda.

Koda, startled by the sudden attention, simply nodded once in quiet agreement.

Across the room, Midoriya was halfway through organizing his notes—out of habit more than necessity—when a sudden pressure seized his shoulders.

"Deku-kun!"

Midoriya froze.

Uraraka stood directly in front of him, eyes blazing with determination and an almost visible pink aura radiating off her.

"I'll do my best!" she declared, fist raised.

"R-Right!" Midoriya replied instinctively, caught off guard by the intensity. He blinked. "Uh... you okay, Uraraka-san?"

She spun on her heel immediately.

"Iida-kun! I'll do my best!"

"Y-Yes! As will I!" Iida answered stiffly, pushing up his glasses as if bracing himself.

Uraraka didn't stop there.

"Everyone! I'll do my best!"

A cheer went up from the class, laughter mixing with encouragement as they finally began filing out toward the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was lively, as always.

The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the massive space, courtesy of Lunch Rush—the Cooking Hero—whose meals were a well-known highlight of U.A. life. Trays clattered, conversations blended into a steady hum, and the students of Class 1-A gathered around a long table.

As they ate, the earlier excitement mellowed into something more thoughtful.

Midoriya glanced toward Uraraka, who was quietly poking at her food, unusually subdued after her earlier outburst.

"Uraraka-san," he began hesitantly, "can I ask you something?"

She looked up. "Hm?"

"Why... why do you want to be a hero?"

She blinked, clearly not expecting the question.

"For the money," she answered plainly.

Midoriya stiffened, surprised. Iida paused mid-bite.

Uraraka quickly waved her hands. "Wait! That sounded bad, didn't it?"

She took a breath, then smiled softly.

"My parents run a small construction company," she explained. "They work really hard, but they haven't been getting good contracts lately. They're barely staying afloat."

Her voice lowered, steady but heavy.

"They don't complain. Ever. But I hear them talking at night sometimes... about loans, about debts. About how long they can keep going."

She clenched her hands in her lap.

"So I thought—if I become a hero, I can make enough money to let them retire without worrying. No debt. No stress. Just... peace. And maybe in the long run, I could able to provide to the people as well."

For a moment, neither Midoriya nor Iida spoke.

"That is... admirable," Iida finally said, straightening in his seat. "A noble reason, indeed."

Midoriya nodded vigorously. "Yeah. That's amazing, Uraraka-san."

She laughed, cheeks slightly pink. "Thanks."

Before the conversation could continue, a massive shadow fell across the table.

"Midoriya, my boy!"

Midoriya nearly choked.

"All Might?!" he gasped.

The Symbol of Peace beamed down at him, hands on his hips. "Would you care to join me for lunch in my office?"

Midoriya's brain short-circuited.

"O-Of course!" he said immediately, nearly knocking over his chair as he stood. "I mean—yes! Thank you!"

Uraraka watched him go, smiling quietly.

All Might's office was exactly as Midoriya remembered—spacious, bright, and intimidating in its own way.

But the moment he stepped inside, his breath caught.

Sitting around the table were three unmistakably familiar figures.

Lu.

Ciel.

Ara.

And beside Lu and Ara— were two others he didn't recognize.

"W-Wait—!" Midoriya stammered. "A-All Might! Why is the Grand Chase here?!"

Before All Might could respond, Ara stood and approached him.

She gently placed a hand on his head.

"Easy," she said warmly. "If you keep stuttering like that, you won't be able to ask the questions you really want answered."

Midoriya swallowed, shoulders relaxing despite himself.

"T-Thank you," he said. "But still... why are you all here?"

All Might laughed heartily. "That question can wait."

He gestured toward the table.

"For now, we eat. Ciel-shounen went out of his way to prepare lunch for us."

Midoriya's eyes widened as he noticed the spread.

Perfectly plated dishes. Steam rising gently. The kind of food that looked like it belonged in a high-end restaurant, not a hero's office.

Ciel set down the final plate with practiced ease.

Midoriya's stomach betrayed him immediately.

"...Wow," he whispered.

"All right," All Might said cheerfully. "Sit, Midoriya. We have much to discuss—after lunch."

Midoriya nodded, heart pounding, as he took his seat among heroes who were about to change everything he thought he knew.

Midoriya's lunch could only be described as immaculate.

At first glance, the dishes Ciel placed on the table appeared deceptively simple. Clean plating, modest portions, nothing extravagant—certainly nothing that screamed excess or indulgence. Yet the moment Midoriya lifted his chopsticks and took his first bite, his world exploded.

Flavor flooded his senses in layered waves—savory depth followed by subtle sweetness, a perfect balance that lingered just long enough to demand another bite. His eyes widened, pupils shaking, breath catching as though he had just witnessed something incredible.

"T-This is—!" Midoriya nearly choked as he hurriedly swallowed, hands trembling as he reached for more.

Ciel noticed immediately.

A satisfied smirk curved along his lips, the look of someone who had reeled in another victim of his cooking. He leaned back slightly, arms folded. "Hooked already," he muttered, clearly pleased.

Across the table, All Might ate heartily, completely unbothered, shoveling food into his mouth with enthusiasm that suggested either absolute trust—or complete disregard—for the state of his internal organs.

Midoriya glanced at him briefly, then back at the food, then back again, wondering if legendary heroes were simply built differently.

Once the meal concluded and everything was cleaned up, All Might clapped his hands together, his tone shifting from casual warmth to measured seriousness. There was still time before the next class, and this—clearly—was not a coincidence.

"Now," All Might began, turning his chair slightly toward Midoriya, "you're wondering why Ciel-shounen and his friends are here at U.A., correct?"

Midoriya nodded instantly. "Y-Yes! Very much so!"

All Might smiled faintly. "That's because starting today, the members of Grand Chase will be offering their experience to your class—and to Class 1-B as well."

Midoriya blinked. "...Experience?"

"They'll be assisting in special training sessions, evaluations, and strategic insight," All Might continued. "Think of them as... guest instructors."

Midoriya's eyes sparkled with awe—right until All Might added his final sentence.

"And they are also aware of One For All."

The room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Midoriya's blood ran cold. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as panic clawed its way up his throat.

"I-If they know about One For All, then—!"

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Ciel interrupted casually, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "You're the old goat's successor."

Midoriya froze.

"And to be completely blunt?" Ciel continued, eyes sharp and assessing. "I'm not impressed."

The words struck harder than any punch.

Midoriya's shoulders slumped immediately, the light draining from his face as self-doubt surged like a tidal wave. His thoughts spiraled—maybe he really wasn't worthy, maybe he was just pretending, maybe—

Smack.

Ciel's head snapped sideways as Lu's hand came down hard.

Then another smack followed from the opposite side as Lithia joined in.

"Ow! What was that for!?" Ciel snapped, rubbing his head indignantly.

"You don't need to drag him into depression, you idiot!" Lu and Lithia said in perfect unison.

Ciel paused, then glanced toward Midoriya.

The boy looked utterly crushed—head lowered, shoulders curled inward, fingers clenched tightly in his lap as though he were trying to keep himself from breaking apart.

"...Wow," Ciel muttered. "He went down fast."

"Oi, All Might," Add said, poking Midoriya's shoulder with mild curiosity. "Is this kid really your successor?"

"He is," All Might replied without hesitation. His voice carried weight now. "Midoriya-shounen may lack confidence, but he possesses the heart of a true hero."

Ara tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in thought. "Now that I think about it... I read a report last year. A quirkless boy rushed headfirst to save someone from a sludge-type villain."

Midoriya stiffened.

"You mean," Ara continued, "that this boy is that boy?"

All Might nodded, pride evident even through his weakened form. "Yes. He said his body moved on its own—before he even had time to think."

The members of Grand Chase fell silent, their gazes settling on Midoriya with renewed interest.

"For someone with almost no self-esteem," Add said slowly, a grin creeping onto his face, "that takes serious guts."

Midoriya barely registered the words, his thoughts still spiraling downward.

Add sighed. "Alright, enough of this."

Suddenly, electricity crackled to life around his hand.

Before anyone could stop him—

Zap.

"AAAAAH—!!"

Midoriya jolted violently, yelping as his entire body stiffened, eyes snapping wide open as he nearly fell out of his chair.

"W-WHAT WAS THAT!?" he shouted, hair frizzed slightly as smoke puffed from his sleeves.

Add grinned unapologetically. "Reset switch."

Midoriya blinked. Once. Twice. His breathing steadied as awareness returned in full.

"...I-I'm back," he muttered.

"Heh. Good," Add said. "Now that you're done drowning in your own head, I think you and All Might need some privacy."

Lu turned toward the door. "We'll leave the rest to you."

Ara offered Midoriya a gentle smile. "You'll be fine."

Lithia nodded. "Don't overthink it."

Ciel paused at the doorway, glancing back one last time. "Try not to disappoint next time."

And with that, the members of Grand Chase exited the office, the door closing softly behind them.

Silence settled in.

All Might turned fully toward Midoriya, his expression gentle but firm.

"Midoriya-shounen," he said quietly, "let us talk."

Midoriya swallowed hard—and nodded.

"Um... All Might?" Midoriya spoke hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck as the silence settled after the Grand Chase's departure. "The other two... who were they?"

All Might looked momentarily surprised, then nodded as if realizing he had skipped over that detail. He folded his arms comfortably.

"Ah, yes. Those two are also members of the Grand Chase," he said. "The one who delivered that... rather stimulating shock was Edward Grenore. He prefers to be called Add."

Midoriya stiffened slightly at the name.

"Add-shounen is a genius inventor," All Might continued, his voice tinged with genuine respect. "His intellect surpasses the vast majority of minds on this planet. His understanding of energy systems, dimensional theory, and applied mechanics is... extraordinary."

Midoriya's eyes widened. "A genius inventor...?"

"Yes," All Might confirmed. "As for the other young woman—is Lithia Beryl. She is one of England's finest gemsmiths. Her craftsmanship borders on the miraculous. She does not simply shape gemstones—she understands their internal structures, their resonance, their potential. And she's also one of England's top investigators."

Midoriya swallowed, his awe growing by the second.

"They're... incredible," he muttered. "Everyone in the Grand Chase seems like they're on a completely different level."

"They are," All Might agreed without hesitation. "But remember this—strength comes in many forms."

Midoriya nodded slowly, then frowned as another thought surfaced.

"Wait," he said, looking back up. "All Might... earlier, during lunch. You were eating with us like it was nothing. But you told me before that your internal organs were destroyed. That modern medicine couldn't heal you."

All Might's expression softened.

"Yes," he said calmly. "I did say that."

Then, without ceremony, he reached down and lifted his shirt.

Midoriya froze.

Where there should have been horrific scars—where there should have been evidence of catastrophic damage—there was nothing. No sunken flesh. No grotesque wounds. His abdomen was whole. Healthy.

"B-But... how?" Midoriya stammered. "You said it was impossible! Unless—"

"You've already figured it out," All Might said gently.

Midoriya's breath caught. "...The Grand Chase."

All Might nodded.

"Last year," he began, "while I was focused on training your body so that you could inherit One For All, Ara-shoujo contacted me. She offered to heal me."

Midoriya listened, hanging on every word.

"Given my condition, I accepted immediately. However, the damage was too extensive to repair all at once. My body simply wouldn't endure it. So they chose another method—gradual restoration."

"Piece by piece," Midoriya whispered.

"Yes," All Might said. "Through advanced technology, techniques beyond our world, and powers that defy conventional understanding, they reconstructed my body over six months."

He lowered his shirt.

"And now... I am fully recovered."

Midoriya stared at him.

For the first time since he had met All Might, there was no shadow behind his eyes. No strain. No exhaustion buried beneath forced optimism. The Symbol of Peace stood before him—whole.

"As for my time limit," All Might continued, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I once believed it had reduced from three hours to one and a half."

Midoriya nodded. He remembered that conversation vividly.

"But now," All Might said, straightening, "with the Grand Chase's assistance, I can maintain my form for twelve hours."

In an instant, steam burst forth.

All Might transformed.

Muscle surged back into place, his towering presence filling the office once more. Midoriya's jaw dropped.

"T-Twelve hours!?" he exclaimed.

"Yes!" All Might laughed heartily. "Quite the improvement, wouldn't you say?"

Midoriya's face lit up. "Then—then that means you can return to hero work!"

All Might chuckled. "In due time."

Then Midoriya's smile faltered.

"...Then that means," he said quietly, "I have to give One For All back to you."

The words hung in the air.

All Might stared at him for half a second—then struck him squarely on the back with a firm slap.

"NONSENSE!!"

Midoriya yelped.

"I already entrusted One For All to you," All Might declared proudly. "That power is yours now. And besides—thanks to the Grand Chase, I still have plenty left in the tank!"

Midoriya blinked.

"In fact," All Might added, grinning wider than ever, "I may even be able to fight alongside you once you've become a professional hero."

Midoriya's chest tightened.

"...R-Really?"

"Of course!" All Might said without hesitation.

That was enough.

The lingering doubt, the guilt, the fear that he had taken something he didn't deserve—all of it cracked and fell away. Midoriya smiled, truly smiled, his eyes shimmering with emotion.

"Thank you," he said softly.

All Might nodded once.

"However," he continued, tone sharpening just slightly, "if you truly wish to become a pro hero, you must make your mark at the Sports Festival. And before that—we still have work to do."

Midoriya glanced at his right hand, clenching it slowly.

"You're right," he admitted. "As I am now... I can only go from zero to one hundred percent."

"That's not sustainable," All Might said.

"No," Midoriya agreed. "It's all or nothing."

"But you will find a way," All Might said with certainty. "And with the Grand Chase involved... perhaps you'll discover a method to wield your power without destroying yourself."

Midoriya felt something ignite inside him.

Hope.

"I'll do it," he said firmly. "I'll figure it out."

All Might smiled, then allowed his muscular form to fade as he reverted to his slender state.

"I think it's time for you to return to class, young man."

Midoriya straightened instantly. "R-Right! You're teaching us this afternoon! Aizawa-sensei told us."

"Yes," All Might said, eyes gleaming. "So be prepared."

He leaned back slightly.

"Because the next lesson," he said, voice heavy with promise, "will be something you will never forget."

Midoriya swallowed—then bowed deeply.

"I'll be ready!"

And with that, he bolted out of the office, heart racing.

All Might watched the door close, then sighed softly.

"...If only you knew," he murmured.

Because very soon—

Class 1-A's world was about to be turned upside down.

----------

Lunch break came to an end far sooner than anyone in Class 1-A wanted.

The moment Midoriya stepped back into the classroom, he barely had time to sit down before he was surrounded.

"Deku-kun!" Uraraka leaned in close, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What did you and All Might talk about?"

"Uraraka-kun and I were worried," Iida added, adjusting his glasses. "You were gone for quite a while."

Midoriya stiffened, then scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"I-It wasn't anything too dramatic," he said quickly. "I just... asked All Might for advice. About how to use my quirk without breaking my body every time."

That much, at least, was true.

Iida nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Given that your quirk and All Might's share similar characteristics, seeking guidance from him is the most logical course of action."

Uraraka smiled in relief. "I'm glad it wasn't something serious."

Midoriya laughed weakly. "Y-Yeah."

Soon enough, the entire class was moving through the halls toward Gym Alpha. Excitement buzzed in the air, especially now that All Might himself was scheduled to teach their special joint lesson.

Everyone had already changed into their hero costumes—everyone except Midoriya.

His uniform jacket was gone, replaced with his training clothes. His hero costume was still undergoing repairs, leaving him painfully aware of how out of place he looked among his fully suited classmates.

"Oh man!" Kirishima exclaimed, clenching his fists. "I can't wait to see what kind of special lesson All Might's got planned! This is gonna be so manly!"

"Let's hope it's not another basic lecture," Kaminari muttered. "I want action."

They rounded a corner—

"Well, well. Looks like one of Class 1-A doesn't have a costume."

The smug voice made several heads turn at once.

Standing nearby was a blond boy with a sharp grin, dressed in an oddly formal hero costume. A black suit hugged his frame neatly, paired with a white shirt and tie. Strapped around his waist were several pocket watches, their chains gleaming under the lights.

Midoriya stiffened. That's... definitely a costume.

Bakugo scowled immediately. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be, extra?"

The boy scoffed. "Extra, huh? So this is how Class 1-A looks down on others?"

He stepped forward dramatically, spreading his arms. "My name is Monoma Neito. And in this joint Hero Course session, Class 1-B and I will prove that we are the superior cla—"

Thwack.

The speech ended abruptly.

A massive hand chopped cleanly into the side of Monoma's neck. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed instantly, unconscious before he even hit the floor.

"Didn't I tell you not to antagonize our fellow classmates?"

The voice was firm, irritated—and unmistakably done with this nonsense.

The students turned to see a tall girl with long ginger hair tied neatly behind her head. She wore a modified Chinese qipao as her hero costume, designed for mobility rather than flair. With ease, she hoisted Monoma over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"...Um," Yaoyorozu said carefully, "may I ask who you are?"

The girl sighed, shifting Monoma's weight. "I'm Kendo Itsuka. Class 1-B's representative."

She bowed slightly. "Sorry about him. Monoma gets... competitive. Especially after hearing that you fought real villains before we did."

Iida stepped forward immediately, posture straight. "Iida Tenya. Class 1-A's representative. I appreciate your apology. I hope both of our classes can cooperate moving forward."

Kendo smiled faintly as she shook his hand. "I'd like that."

Before anyone could say more—

BOOM.

A thunderous explosion echoed through the corridor.

Everyone froze.

"That came from Gym Alpha," Tokoyami said quietly.

Without another word, both classes broke into a run.

They burst into the gym—and immediately skidded to a halt.

"About time you all arrived," Eraserhead said flatly, arms crossed.

"Sorry, Aizawa-sensei," Kendo replied calmly. "There was a small disturbance on the way."

Eraserhead's gaze shifted to the unconscious Monoma on her shoulder. Vlad King raised an eyebrow.

"...I see," Vlad King said dryly. "Fine. We'll let it slide."

He turned toward the arena below.

"But for now," he said, voice sharpening, "watch carefully."

The students followed his gaze.

Their eyes widened.

Standing at the center of Gym Alpha's combat field was All Might—radiating power, calm, and overwhelming presence.

Opposite him were two figures they recognized instantly.

Add stood with his hands crackling faintly with energy, a confident grin on his face. Beside him, Lithia adjusted her stance, gemstone constructs hovering at her side, refracting light into sharp prismatic patterns.

"All Might..." Midoriya whispered.

A two-on-one.

Without warning, the fight erupted.

Add vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing behind All Might in a flash of electricity. Lithia followed instantly, gemstones firing like artillery, forcing All Might to pivot and block.

The shockwaves rattled the entire gym.

"W-What is this!?" Kaminari shouted. "Is this training!?"

"No," Todoroki said quietly, eyes fixed on the battlefield. "This is... something else."

All Might countered with terrifying precision—sidestepping Add's strike by inches, shattering Lithia's constructs with controlled blows that sent energy rippling through the floor.

Yet neither opponent backed down.

They adapted.

They learned.

"They're not holding back," Yaoyorozu murmured.

"And neither is All Might," Tokoyami added.

Add moved first.

Six sleek, six-pointed weapons unfolded from his boots, humming as they locked into place. With a sharp burst of electricity, he glided across the battlefield—not running, not jumping, but skimming the ground as though gravity itself had loosened its grip on him.

Violet-white lightning cracked from his palms in rapid succession.

All Might reacted instantly, weaving between the blasts with practiced ease. Each bolt tore chunks out of the reinforced concrete behind him, leaving smoking craters in their wake.

At the same time, Lithia slammed the head of her pickaxe into the floor.

The impact fractured the ground in a wide radius. Stone erupted upward as if pulled by invisible hands. With a snap of her fingers, the shattered debris compressed and launched forward—dozens of stone bullets screaming toward All Might from multiple angles.

The number one hero crossed his arms, bracing.

The observation area exploded into noise.

"Is that really All Might!?" Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu shouted from Class 1-B, eyes wide with disbelief.

"And he's... fighting them head-on?" Hiryu Rin added, arms folded as his sharp gaze followed every movement. "Those aren't ordinary opponents."

"Wait!" Hagakure suddenly yelled. "Look at the sidelines! That's—!"

Everyone turned.

Standing calmly at the edge of the arena were Lu, Ara, and Ciel. They watched the fight with composed expressions—no panic, no concern—like this was simply another routine exercise.

"The Grand Chase...?" several students whispered.

Tokage Setsuna tilted her head toward her homeroom teacher. "Vlad-sensei, why are they here?"

Vlad King kept his eyes on the battlefield. "This was Principal Nezu's decision. The Grand Chase are here to share their experience with the Hero Course. And All Might proposed a demonstration."

He paused, voice firm.

"To show you all what real mastery looks like."

Below them, All Might slammed his fist into the ground.

"[Montana Smash!]"

The concrete beneath him surged upward, massive slabs rising like a wall. Lithia's stone bullets shattered against the improvised barrier, fragments scattering harmlessly across the field.

All Might didn't stop.

"I'm not done yet—[Texas Smash!]"

He struck the concrete shield repeatedly, breaking it apart with precise blows and sending the fragments hurtling forward like cannon fire. The shattered slabs collided with Lithia's incoming attacks, neutralizing them midair.

Kirishima swallowed hard. "He's using the environment like it's part of his body..."

"He's not just reacting," Yaoyorozu said quietly. "He's controlling the entire battlefield."

Add clicked his tongue.

"Looks like you're adapting, old man," he said, sliding to a halt as the weapons on his feet disengaged and floated up to his waist. "Then let's raise the difficulty."

Three translucent holographic screens snapped into existence in front of him, data streaming across them faster than the eye could follow.

"[Install: Starfall.]"

The screens vanished.

A small device unfolded behind Add's back, hovering silently.

All Might's instincts screamed.

He moved.

A fraction of a second later, a crimson laser lanced down from above, obliterating the spot where he had been standing. The beam punched straight through the arena floor, molten edges glowing red-hot. The device behind Add kept firing as All Might dodged all of the incoming attacks from above.

The students gasped.

"He created that instantly!?" Yaoyorozu's breath caught in her throat. "A fully functional laser sentry... "

Support course students spent years perfecting prototypes. Entire teams worked to develop similar technology.

Add did it mid-combat.

"I'm not the only threat you should be watching," Add called out. "Now!"

All Might turned—and it was too late.

"[Drum Cutter!!]"

Lithia grinned as a massive, rotating grinder materialized above her. With a powerful swing, she hurled it forward. The weapon screamed through the air, tearing the ground apart as it advanced.

"So you used yourself as bait, Add-shounen!" All Might laughed, planting his feet. "But I won't fall that easily!"

"[Detroit Smash!!!]"

His fist met the spinning grinder head-on.

The collision shook the entire gym.

Wind pressure exploded outward, slamming into the observation windows. Students staggered back as the shockwave rolled over them.

For several tense seconds, neither side gave ground.

The grinder began to crack.

Fractures spread across its surface, glowing faintly.

With a final thunderous boom, it shattered into fragments that rained harmlessly across the field.

Silence followed.

All Might, Add, and Lithia stood facing one another, breathing steady.

Then—

"I think that's enough."

Ciel's voice cut through the tension.

The three fighters looked up toward the observation area, where dozens of stunned Hero Course students stared down at them.

"The audience has arrived," Ciel continued calmly.

Lithia rested her pickaxe on her shoulder. "Agreed. Let's call it a draw."

Add shrugged. "Though if we'd used Resonance, you might've lost."

All Might chuckled, wiping dust from his gloves. "That's true. I only faced you at half strength."

The casual admission sent another ripple of shock through the students.

Half...?

Lu stepped forward. "Well then," she said with a grin, "how about we go say hello?"

The Grand Chase moved as one, stepping into the open where the students could see them clearly.

As they approached, Midoriya felt his chest tighten.

This... this is the gap.

Not just strength.

Experience. Control. Composure.

This wasn't a lesson meant to inspire.

It was meant to awaken them.

And judging by the stunned silence gripping both Class 1-A and 1-B, it had worked perfectly.

The real training was about to begin.

----------

The gym remained unnervingly quiet long after the clash had ended.

Dust still lingered in the air, sunlight filtering through the reinforced windows and illuminating the scars left behind on the battlefield—cracked flooring, scorched lines, and impact craters that spoke of power most of the students could barely comprehend.

Class 1-A and 1-B stood frozen, eyes fixed on the arena below.

They weren't looking at heroes.

They were staring at a reality check.

"What the fuck...?" Bakugo muttered under his breath, fists clenched so tightly his palms trembled. "Those fucking extras actually went toe-to-toe with All Might..."

His teeth ground together. Pride—raw and volatile—burned in his chest. For the first time since entering U.A., he wasn't just frustrated.

He felt small.

"And he said they were only fighting at half strength," Todoroki said quietly, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to dissect the moment frame by frame. "That wasn't bravado. He meant it."

The implication sent a chill through the surrounding students.

"You're right..." Awase Yosetsu from Class 1-B swallowed. "If that was only half... what happens if they go all out?"

"Then half of this school would've been destroyed."

The voice was calm. Matter-of-fact.

Every head snapped toward the entrance.

All Might stood there, arms crossed, his presence as imposing as ever—but this time, he wasn't alone. Behind him were the members of the Grand Chase, their expressions composed, unreadable. They walked in without ceremony, without flair, as though the overwhelming display of power moments ago had been nothing more than a warm-up.

All Might stepped forward first.

"Welcome, students," he said, smiling, though there was an edge of seriousness beneath it. "I'm glad both Hero Course classes are present. If we conducted this lesson separately, it would be inefficient—and potentially misleading."

Eraserhead adjusted his capture weapon and glanced at the students. "Listen carefully. What happens today isn't about spectacle."

Vlad King nodded. "It's about perspective."

All Might gestured behind him. "Now then. Class 1-A is already familiar with most of them—though not all. So before we proceed, introductions are in order."

Ciel stepped forward.

His presence alone caused the room to tense, as if the air itself acknowledged him.

"I am Ciel Laurenfrost," he said coolly. "Head of the Laurenfrost Family. Chairman of the Laurenfrost Foundation. Codename: Chevalier."

There was no boast in his voice. No attempt to impress.

It made the words heavier.

Lu immediately followed, slipping her arm around Ciel's with effortless intimacy.

"I'm Luciela Elstein," she said brightly. "Head of the Elstein Family—and his fiancée. Codename: Ishtar."

Several students froze.

Mineta's jaw dropped.

Kaminari's soul visibly left his body.

Ciel sighed.

Ara stepped forward next, bowing politely.

"My name is Ara Haan," she said gently. "Heiress of the White Fox Sect. Codename: Aspara."

Her calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the stories some students had already heard—of underground syndicates and ancient martial lineages.

Add didn't bother stepping forward. He leaned against the wall instead, headphones slung around his neck.

"Edward Grenroe," he said lazily. "Call me Add. Codename: Mastermind. That's all you'll get from me."

The casual tone somehow made him more unsettling.

Finally, Lithia twirled her pickaxe with a playful smile.

"And I'm Lithia Beryl~ Owner of the Beryl Gem Corporation~ Codename: Gembliss~"

The introductions ended.

Silence followed.

Eraserhead checked his watch. "Before we begin the lesson, you may ask questions. Be concise. We're not here to waste time."

That was all it took.

Hands shot up across both classes.

Questions overlapped—about their strength, their fights, their technology, their authority, their right to operate in Japan. The noise grew chaotic.

Ciel's brow twitched.

Add clicked his tongue.

"This is inefficient," Add muttered.

Ciel exhaled sharply. "Agreed."

His gaze swept across the crowd—and landed on one student in particular.

"Midoriya Izuku," Ciel said.

The green-haired boy stiffened. "Y-Yes!"

"You ask the question."

The room fell silent instantly.

Midoriya stepped forward, heart pounding. He swallowed, mind racing—not with awe, but with analysis.

"Ciel-san..." he began, voice shaky but focused. "I want to ask something that's been bothering me since I first saw you fight."

Ciel gestured for him to continue.

"...Are your powers really quirks?"

The question hit the room like a shockwave.

Several students blinked.

Others frowned.

Add straightened, interest flickering in his eyes as he removed his headset. "That's a bold assumption. And what makes you think that?"

Midoriya inhaled deeply.

"When I first watched you and Lu-san fight Endeavor," he said, words spilling faster as his confidence grew, "I thought your abilities were emitter-type quirks. Then Lu-san's arms transformed, and I thought maybe she had a transformation-type quirk."

He clenched his fists.

"But then you summoned something that didn't match any known quirk classification. And after that—you restored an entire city block. Not repaired. Restored. As if the damage never existed."

The teachers exchanged looks.

Eraserhead's eyes widened slightly.

Vlad King's arms slowly lowered.

All Might's breath caught.

Midoriya looked up, eyes burning with conviction.

"My conclusion is... your power doesn't follow quirk logic at all. It's something else. Something beyond quirks."

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

For the first time since entering the gym, the Grand Chase didn't look bored.

They looked interested.

Add grinned.

Ciel's lips curved into something dangerously close to approval.

Bakugo's voice cut through the air like a lit fuse.

"The fuck you on about, Deku!? Is your useless brain really that damn useless!? Of course they use quir—"

The rest of his sentence never made it out.

A sharp crack echoed across the training field as something small, crystalline, and moving far faster than any thrown object had the right to, struck Bakugo squarely on the side of the head. The force didn't send him flying—but it was enough to snap his head sideways and slam him face-first into the concrete with a dull, humiliating thud.

Silence fell instantly.

Every student—Class 1-A and 1-B alike—froze where they stood, eyes snapping toward the source.

Lithia stood several meters away, her posture relaxed, one hand resting on her hip. Hovering around her were several gemstones—ruby, sapphire, emerald, and others unknown—each spinning slowly in the air like obedient satellites. The one that had struck Bakugo rejoined the formation, not a scratch on its surface.

Her expression was flat. Irritated. Cold.

"Did we tell you to speak?" Lithia asked calmly.

The gemstones shimmered faintly, their glow intensifying just enough to make the threat unmistakable.

Bakugo groaned on the ground, trying to push himself up. The moment he did, one gemstone dipped closer, stopping mere centimeters from his temple. He froze instantly, teeth clenched, eyes burning—but this time, he said nothing.

No one else dared to speak either.

Even students who were used to Bakugo's outbursts felt a chill crawl up their spines. This wasn't a teacher scolding a student. This wasn't even a hero reprimanding a civilian.

This was something else entirely.

"Lithia-shoujo," All Might said carefully, stepping forward just a little. His voice was calm, measured—but even he was clearly choosing his words with caution. "Isn't that... perhaps a bit excessive?"

Lithia didn't even look at him at first.

"The boy has a loud mouth," she replied coolly. "And I dislike loud mouths."

The gemstones shifted subtly, responding to her irritation.

"He should be grateful I merely knocked some sense into him. Ciel-kun would not have been so kind." She finally glanced toward the silver-haired man. "In fact, had he continued speaking, Ciel-kun might have put a bullet straight through his skull."

Several students went pale.

Midoriya swallowed hard.

"And," Lithia continued, her tone sharp but controlled, "if there is one thing Ciel despises above all else—it is an overbearing ego."

Add snorted, arms crossed, an amused grin spreading across his face. "Yeah. And that walking grenade's ego? It's loud enough to register on my scanners."

A few students flinched. Others glanced at Bakugo, who was still pressed against the ground, fury and humiliation twisting his features.

"I can practically see it radiating off him," Add added. "That kind of arrogance tends to get people killed."

"That's not fair!" Midoriya blurted out before he could stop himself. He stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. "Kacchan might be... rough, but he's always wanted to be a hero! He trains harder than anyone I know!"

The words came out fast, desperate.

Ciel exhaled slowly.

When he spoke, his voice wasn't angry.

It was disappointed.

"Despite attempting to kill you during your first Heroics class?" Ciel asked quietly, eyes settling on Midoriya. "That does not align with my definition of heroism."

Midoriya stiffened.

"All I see," Ciel continued, his gaze sweeping briefly over Bakugo before lifting to the rest of the students, "is an entitled child who was placed on a pedestal the moment his power manifested."

Several students flinched.

Ciel noticed.

"And judging by your reactions," he said calmly, "I can tell some of you share that same position."

The field felt heavier. Colder.

"It is not wrong to be praised," Ciel said, his tone shifting—not softening, but gaining weight. "Encouragement is necessary. Recognition is important. But constant praise without reflection breeds blindness."

He took a step forward.

"It convinces you that you are always correct. That the world revolves around you. That your strength alone is sufficient."

His eyes sharpened.

"But reality does not care about your ego."

No one spoke.

"When reality bares its fangs," Ciel continued, "you will suffer. You will face challenges you cannot overpower. Trials you cannot brute-force. Tribulations that will break you if you cling to the idea that you are special."

He paused.

"The only way forward is to adapt. To improvise. To overcome."

Bakugo's fingers dug into the concrete.

"And when your back is pressed against the wall," Ciel finished, "the wisest course of action is to move forward—without regret."

For several seconds, the only sound was the wind brushing against the ruined training ground.

Then Lithia broke the silence with a low whistle.

"Well," she said, nudging Ciel lightly with her elbow, "I didn't expect you to give them a full-blown lecture."

Ciel glanced at her. "It was necessary."

"They have potential," he added, turning his gaze back to the students. "Some of you—if you possess the resolve—could stand as heroes within a year."

That sent a ripple of shock through both classes.

A year?

"That is," Ciel clarified, "if you truly understand what it means to carry that title."

Midoriya hesitated, then raised his hand slightly. "Ciel-san... earlier, about quirks—"

Lu stepped forward before Ciel could respond.

"Let us answer that," Lu said gently, offering Midoriya a small, reassuring smile. "The Grand Chase wields power beyond your current understanding. Power that does not stem from quirks."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"We exist to confront threats your world is not prepared to face," Lu continued. "Threats that quirks alone cannot overcome. That is why we are here."

Add cracked his neck and began walking toward the battlefield below. "And speaking of being unprepared—lesson one starts now."

The students tensed.

"You're about to experience a simulation," Add said over his shoulder, "of what we deal with on a daily basis."

Some swallowed. Others straightened.

"We'll divide you into teams of four," Ciel said, following Add. "Once that's done—the real test begins."

"And don't expect mercy," Add added cheerfully.

"As for your teams," Ciel continued, "you will choose them yourselves."

That drew surprised looks.

"Form groups you are comfortable with," Ciel said. "People you trust. People you believe you can rely on."

Ara glanced back at the students as she followed the others. "Because in this simulation," she said evenly, "will put your trust to the test."

Lithia and Lu moved after them, leaving both classes standing with their teachers, the weight of what was coming settling in.

Uraraka blinked. "Wait... does that mean we can choose who we want to team up with?"

"Yes," Ara replied without stopping. "Choose wisely."

The battlefield awaited.

And for the first time, Class 1-A and 1-B truly understood—

This was not training.

This was a warning.

----------

Minutes after the Grand Chase finished giving their instructions, the Hero Course students found themselves moving as one, guided by a mixture of curiosity, apprehension, and an unspoken sense of pressure. Class 1-A and 1-B filed out of the building alongside their homeroom teachers, descending toward one of U.A.'s expansive training fields. The air itself felt different, heavier somehow, as though the very ground anticipated what was about to unfold.

The wide field stretched before them, reinforced barriers lining its perimeter. At the far end stood the members of the Grand Chase, already waiting.

Ciel Laurenfrost stood at the forefront, arms crossed, his gaze sweeping calmly over the assembled students. He took note of their postures, their spacing, the way some gravitated instinctively toward familiar faces while others lingered on the fringes. All of it told him more than words ever could.

"It seems that you've all chosen your teams," Ciel said evenly.

His eyes lingered briefly on one group in particular.

Midoriya Izuku stood at its center, flanked by Uraraka Ochaco, Iida Tenya, and Asui Tsuyu. A balanced group on paper, perhaps—but not without its flaws. Ciel could already see the problem forming. Midoriya possessed overwhelming output at the cost of his own body, a textbook glass cannon. Iida offered speed and structure, but his movements were rigid. Uraraka and Asui were control-oriented, excellent at creating openings but lacking decisive finishing power.

Ciel closed his eyes for a brief moment.

This would either force growth—or break them.

Add stepped forward next, hands in his pockets, grin sharp and unapologetic.

"Now that you brats are all here," he said casually, "we'll begin your first lesson."

A murmur rippled through the gathered students.

"The lesson's simple," Add continued. "Like Chevalier said earlier, we deal with threats that quirks alone cannot handle. Things that don't play by your rules. Things that don't care about your rankings, your licenses, or your ideals."

A few students swallowed hard.

"So," Add said, eyes glinting, "we decided to let you experience that reality yourselves."

The expressions of Class 1-A darkened almost immediately. Several students stiffened, while others instinctively stepped closer to their teammates. Only Bakugo and Todoroki seemed unaffected—Bakugo's lips curled into something resembling excitement, while Todoroki's gaze sharpened with quiet interest.

"Wait—hold on!" Kaminari blurted out, panic bleeding into his voice. "You don't mean we're fighting that monster from the USJ, right!? That thing nearly wiped us out!"

Ara stepped forward before anyone else could respond, her presence calm yet firm.

"You won't be facing the real entity," she assured them. "This is a simulation. However—" her eyes swept across the students "—it will not be limited to Henir constructs alone. The scenarios you'll face are based on enemies we have fought... and enemies our ancestors once faced."

That clarification did little to ease their nerves.

Lithia followed, humming lightly as she produced a violet crystal sphere from seemingly nowhere. It was roughly the size of a basketball, its surface smooth and translucent, light refracting endlessly within. She placed it carefully atop a waiting tripod at the center of the field.

"And this," Lithia said cheerfully, patting the sphere, "is what we'll be using~ This crystal generates fully immersive replicas of historical environments and hostile entities. As for how it works—well~ trade secret."

She clasped her hands together.

"Now then~ who would like to go first?"

Silence.

No one moved.

The weight of expectation pressed down heavily, students exchanging uncertain glances. Even those with confidence hesitated. Being first meant being the example. The risk. The unknown.

Then, a single step broke the stillness.

Midoriya Izuku moved forward.

Several heads snapped toward him in surprise.

Ara tilted her head slightly, studying him. "Midoriya-kun... are you certain? Your teammates must also agree."

Midoriya glanced back. Uraraka met his eyes and nodded, determination softening her nervous smile. Iida straightened, adjusting his glasses. Asui gave a small, steady thumbs-up.

Midoriya turned back.

"I won't know unless I try," he said, voice steady despite his racing heart. "And... I don't think I can call myself a hero if I'm afraid to take the first step."

Lithia's grin widened, genuine approval flickering in her eyes.

"Good~ I like that mindset," she said. "Now then, place your hand on the crystal."

Midoriya did as instructed.

The moment his palm made contact, the crystal flared to life. Light surged outward, forming a massive projection screen in the air above the field. Gasps echoed among the students—and even the teachers couldn't hide their surprise.

On the screen, a rotating array of environments appeared: ruined cities, ancient fortresses, underground complexes, desolate wastelands. Each location pulsed faintly, as if alive.

The Grand Chase ignored the questions forming on everyone's lips.

"Listen carefully," Lithia said. "These are locations that once existed throughout history. Your team's objective is simple: clear the area you're assigned."

She raised a finger.

"There is no time limit. However, if you sustain a critical injury, you will be forcibly ejected from the simulation."

A pause.

"And one more thing~ your secondary objective is to clear the scenario without anyone being ejected."

Yaoyorozu's eyes widened slightly.

"I see," she murmured. "This lesson isn't about brute force. It's about cooperation, trust, and adaptability in unfamiliar terrain."

Ciel nodded. "Correct. Heroes rarely operate alone. And if an opponent or environment counters your abilities, you rely on your allies to compensate. Isolation leads to failure."

He turned to Midoriya.

"Spin the roulette."

Midoriya swallowed and did so.

The images blurred rapidly, environments flashing by in quick succession. His heart pounded as the scrolling slowed... and slowed... until it finally stopped.

The image settled.

Ciel exhaled quietly.

"Well," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "it appears your team has been assigned the Pyramid of Seth."

A ripple of confusion passed through the students—but the Grand Chase reacted differently.

Ciel's expression darkened, just a fraction.

"A highly dangerous location," he continued. "Even among simulations, this one is unforgiving."

Internally, he frowned.

Of all possible outcomes...

The Pyramid of Seth was infamous even among ancient records. A relic from the Alcubra Region over forty thousand years ago, its structure was designed not merely to house enemies—but to test resolve, coordination, and sanity. Traps layered upon traps. Environments that punished recklessness. Enemies that adapted.

If it had been the Nasod Foundry, Midoriya's ingenuity might have carried him. The Kastulle Ruins would have offered mobility and space.

But this?

This would push them to their limits.

Midoriya stared at the screen, unaware of the full implications, but sensing the weight behind Ciel's silence.

He clenched his fists.

No matter how hard it was—

He would not back down.

"You have five minutes to coordinate your strategy," Ciel said calmly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the field. "Use them wisely. And one final piece of advice—inside the Pyramid of Seth, overextension is fatal. Lose discipline for even a moment, and you'll be ejected before you realize what went wrong."

With that, he stepped back, giving Midoriya's team space.

Midoriya turned immediately toward Lithia, bowing slightly in reflex before straightening. "Lithia-san... if possible, could you give us some information about the pyramid?"

Lithia blinked once—then smiled brightly.

"Why of course~" she said, delighted. "After all, knowledge is power."

She produced a sleek, metallic tablet, its surface glowing faintly with arcane glyphs layered beneath digital text. "This contains detailed records of every available simulation site, including enemy profiles, environmental hazards, and relics tied to each location."

She placed it in Midoriya's hands.

Midoriya didn't waste a second. He dashed back to his team, tablet already active.

"What are we dealing with?" Iida asked immediately, adjusting his glasses as he leaned in.

Midoriya scrolled quickly, eyes darting across the data. Then—

He froze.

"...Mummies," he said.

Uraraka stiffened. "M-M-Mummies!?"

Her voice cracked just enough to draw a few uneasy chuckles from nearby students—but none of them sounded particularly confident. Even those watching from the observer deck exchanged uncertain looks. Ancient enemies were one thing. Undead guardians wrapped in cursed linen were another.

"And not just that, kero," Asui added, peering closer at the screen. "The pyramid's filled with traps too."

She tapped a section of the tablet, highlighting schematics.

Trapdoors concealed beneath shifting tiles. Pressure-activated arrow volleys. Flame vents hidden in hieroglyph-lined walls. Even ceilings designed to collapse if vibrations exceeded a certain threshold.

"This place punishes impatience," Asui concluded evenly.

Iida nodded sharply. "Then caution and formation discipline will be essential."

Midoriya scrolled further, then paused again.

"...There's a relic listed here," he said. "The Treasure of Osiris."

He turned the tablet so the others could see. The projection displayed a construct resembling an ancient automaton—part ceremonial armor, part arcane weapon platform.

"It's designed to be piloted," Iida noted, interest flickering in his eyes. "Midoriya-kun, this could allow you to contribute offensively without relying on your Quirk."

Midoriya nodded. "Exactly. I can reserve my quirk for the final chamber. Ciel-san warned us about overextending—and if I break myself early, that's game over."

Uraraka exhaled slowly, visibly calming. "Okay... okay. That actually helps."

"Then we proceed carefully," Iida said, straightening to full posture. "I will take point as vanguard. My role will be enemy interception and trap triggering where unavoidable."

"Asui and I will provide control," Uraraka added quickly. "Binding, repositioning, crowd disruption."

"And I'll operate the Treasure of Osiris from mid-range," Midoriya finished. "Cover fire, pressure support, and emergency extraction if needed."

The four of them exchanged looks.

No bravado. No hesitation.

Just trust.

From a distance, the members of the Grand Chase observed quietly.

"...Not bad," Add muttered, arms crossed. "Kid adjusted his loadout instead of forcing his usual playstyle."

Ara smiled faintly. "He listened."

Ciel checked his watch.

"Preparation time is over," he announced. "Midoriya Izuku. Uraraka Ochaco. Asui Tsuyu. Iida Tenya. Proceed to the center."

The four students stepped forward, their classmates watching in tense silence as they entered the heart of Gym Alpha. Above them, the observation deck filled with teachers and students alike.

As they took their positions, Ciel turned to Add.

Add nodded once.

"Pyramid of Seth," he said calmly. "Materialize."

The crystal sphere flared violently.

Light flooded the gym—and reality warped.

The reinforced floors vanished beneath layers of ancient stone. Walls stretched upward, carved with weathered hieroglyphs that glowed faintly with cursed energy. The air thickened, dry and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and age. Flickering torches ignited along the corridors, casting long, dancing shadows.

In moments, Gym Alpha ceased to exist.

Midoriya and his team now stood within the heart of the Pyramid of Seth.

From the darkness, something moved.

A low, scraping sound echoed through the corridors.

Then another.

And another.

Figures began emerging from the shadows—humanoid shapes wrapped in decaying bandages, eyes glowing with unnatural light. Their movements were slow, deliberate, relentless.

A horde.

"...Incredible," Yaoyorozu whispered from the observation deck, her analytical mind struggling to keep up with what she was witnessing.

"This isn't just visual projection," Aizawa muttered. "The spatial fidelity is real."

"You go through this regularly?" Vlad King asked, glancing toward Lu and Ciel.

Lu nodded calmly. "Not every day. But often enough."

"If we want to grow stronger," she continued, "we have to confront what we don't understand. Comfort stagnates you. Pressure sharpens you."

Ciel lifted a microphone, his voice carrying clearly into the simulation space.

"Listen carefully," he said. "On my mark, the enemies will activate. Your objective is to clear the scenario without a single team member being ejected. Coordination over power. Survival over pride. Are we clear?"

Inside the pyramid, Midoriya swallowed hard—then nodded.

"HAI!" Uraraka called out.

"Clear!" Iida confirmed.

"Ready, kero," Asui added.

Ciel smiled faintly.

"...Begin."

The moment the word left his mouth, the mummies surged forward.

And with that, the first true trial of the Grand Chase had begun—one that would etch itself permanently into the memories of U.A.'s Hero Course.