Ochaco's hand slipped into mine, her warmth grounding me. "Last one, Deku-Jiro and Koda. They've got this, right?" Her optimism clashed with my tension, but I forced a smile. "Sound and animals against Mic's voice? They'll find a way."
Bakugo leaned on the railing, arms crossed. "Earphone chick and bird-boy? They're gonna get blasted." Momo scribbled in her notebook, analyzing acoustics.
Todoroki's gaze was steady, ice misting his breath. Below, Kyoka Jiro stood with her Earphone Jacks coiled like whips, boots tapping a nervous rhythm, purple hair framing her determined scowl.
Koji Koda crouched beside her, broad shoulders hunched, Anivoice quirk humming as pigeons circled overhead, his gentle eyes hardened with resolve. "We'll... make them listen," Jiro muttered. Koda nodded, signing, For the class.
Aizawa's voice rasped over comms, his scarf frayed to threads. "Jiro Kyoka and Koda Koji versus Yamada Hizashi-Present Mic. Objective: defeat or escape in 30 minutes. His voice will shatter you-control the soundscape."
The arena's heart held Present Mic, leather jacket gleaming, blonde cockatiel hair defying gravity, directional speaker around his neck pulsing.
"YO, LISTEN UP!" he bellowed, voice a sonic boom that rattled the deck's glass. "Time to turn up the volume-LET'S MAKE SOME NOIIISE!" The buzzer screamed, and the world became a wall of sound.
__________________
The Fight: Jiro & Koda vs. Present Mic
Jiro struck first, Earphone Jacks extending-20-meter tendrils plugging into the arena's concrete, heartbeat vibration amplifying into a bass pulse that rippled the ground, aiming to disrupt Mic's stance.
"Take this, loudmouth!" The shockwave cracked a billboard, but Mic pivoted, speaker flaring-Voice quirk unleashing a 300-decibel scream, "YEEEAAAH!"
The sonic blast shredded Jiro's pulse, hurling her back 10 meters, ears ringing as blood trickled from one. Koda roared, Anivoice commanding a flock of sparrows-dozens diving in a feathered storm, beaks pecking at Mic's goggles.
"Protect Jiro!" But Mic's laugh boomed, a directional wave scattering the birds like leaves, feathers exploding mid-air, Koda shielding his face as the backlash stunned his flock.
Mic pressed, voice a relentless tide-high-pitched wails shattering glass facades, low-frequency rumbles buckling asphalt.
Jiro rolled, jacks stabbing a speaker tower, siphoning sound to counter with a focused heartbeat boom-150 decibels, enough to stagger Mic mid-step.
"Not bad, kid!" he grinned, but retaliated with a pinpoint scream, 400 decibels carving a trench that forced Jiro to dive, jacks retracting as concrete exploded.
Koda rallied, Anivoice summoning groundhogs-burrowing under Mic, erupting to trip him-but Mic spun, voice flattening the mounds, animals fleeing with pained squeaks. "C'mon, big guy-bring the beat!"
Five minutes in, the arena was a warzone-billboards toppled, alleys echoing with feedback, sound-dampening foam peeling from walls.
Jiro's jacks vibrated with absorbed noise, amplifying her counters-sonic lances piercing Mic's waves, but his raw power overwhelmed, a 500-decibel blast shattering her left jack, pain lancing as she screamed, "Koda-cover!"
Koda's Anivoice called rats-hundreds swarming Mic's boots, biting cables-but Mic stomped, voice a shockwave dispersing them, one rat stunned mid-leap.
Jiro plugged into a fallen speaker, redirecting Mic's own echo into a disorienting loop, but he adapted, speaker modulating to a frequency that cracked her eardrums, blood dripping as she staggered.
Ten minutes, despair creeping. Mic dominated the soundscape-voice bending air into visible ripples, a 600-decibel wall pinning them behind a collapsed facade.
Jiro's jacks trembled, one severed, her quirk straining to parse the chaos. "He's... too loud," she gasped, ears bleeding. Koda signed frantically, We're losing. His Anivoice faltered-pigeons too scared to return, insects fleeing the vibrations.
The escape gate mocked them, 120 meters away, blocked by a sonic barrier that pulverized debris. Mic's grin flashed, "YO, GIVE IT UP! YOU'RE ROCKIN' THE WRONG STAGE!"
Another blast-700 decibels-cracked their cover, Jiro's vision blurring, Koda's knees buckling. Surrender loomed, their spirits fracturing under the onslaught.
But Jiro's eyes sparked, bloodied but defiant. "Koda... dirty play. Like the others." A nod-Tsuyu's dirt, Iida's curses, Toru's lasso. "Bully Maguire style. Distract him, then cuff."
Koda signed, Got it. They feigned collapse-Jiro slumping, jacks limp, "We... can't..."; Koda kneeling, head bowed, animals silent.
Mic approached, speaker lowering, voice softening to a taunt. "Smart choice, kids! Heroism's knowing when to-"
Jiro's head snapped up, jacks twitching. "I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye!" She kicked a pile of arena dust-grit from shattered concrete and my old puddles, a cloudy missile aimed at Mic's goggles.
It splattered, particles lodging in the lenses, stinging his eyes. "Gah-what?!" He clawed at his face, voice wavering.
Koda joined, Anivoice commanding ants-thousands swarming from cracks, dumping dirt clods onto Mic's boots, a gritty avalanche.
"You're trash, bro!" Koda signed, Jiro voicing it with a smirk, her jack stabbing the ground to amplify a bass thud, vibrating the dirt into Mic's face.
Mic staggered, goggles fogged, "You little-!" But Jiro pressed, "I miss the part where that's my problem!" She rolled, jacks plugging into a speaker to redirect Mic's last scream into a feedback loop-his own 700-decibel blast reversed, ears ringing as he stumbled.
Koda's animals returned-pigeons dropping pebble "dirt" from above, rats tugging his laces, a chaotic swarm.
"Trash, bro!" Jiro taunted again, limping forward, cuffs from her belt gleaming-EMP-laced, U.A. issue. Mic swung blind, voice a wild scream, but the feedback disrupted his aim, sonic waves scattering harmlessly.
The clincher: Jiro vaulted a crate, jack lashing Mic's speaker to yank it askew, "Dirt in your eye, DJ!"-another dust kick, this time wet with puddle-mud, splattering his face, grit grinding into his eyes.
Koda charged, Anivoice rallying a final flock-hawks diving to claw the speaker free, exposing Mic's arms. Jiro slid low, cuffs snapping one wrist, "You're done, loudmouth!"
Koda pinned the other with a bear hug-animals aiding, a python coiling the arm. Click-second cuff, EMP flaring, Voice quirk nullified, speaker dead.
Mic slumped, wiping mud, laughing through grit. "YO... dirty but dope! Pass!" Timer at 28 minutes-victory by restraint.
The deck roared-Kirishima's "That was epic!", Ochaco's clap, Bakugo's cackle: "Earphones with attitude? Nice!" Jiro and Koda climbed up, bloodied but beaming,
Jiro's jack reattaching via quirk, Koda signing Teamwork. "Bully Maguire would be proud" Jiro grinned, fist-bumping Koda.
__________________
A New Dawn
Aizawa's voice crackled: "Exams complete. Class 1-A-pass rate 100%. Rest. Training Camp in 48 hours." The arena powered down, Mic tipping his muddy goggles with a thumbs-up.
Class 1-A swarmed Jiro and Koda, pride electric. I hugged Ochaco, heart light despite my secrets-the Blade's loss, the universe's save, Aoyama and Denki's ghost-void end. The camp loomed, League's fangs dulled but not gone.
____________________
Some time later
I sat cross-legged on the roof of Heights Alliance, moonlight glinting off the Vampire Dungeon Ticket in my palm. A single-use relic from the Gacha's final gift-S-Tier, blood-red parchment, edges curling like living veins. The inscription pulsed faintly:
"One entry. One descent. No return until the Heart is claimed or the Ticket burns."
I'd kept it in Dimensional Storage for months, waiting for the right moment. The universe had nearly died because of my last portal. This one felt different-contained, deliberate.
A dungeon, not a multiverse. A place to test limits without endangering reality. My fingers trembled. Saiyan Physiology at 100%, Ocean at 60%, All Fiction with one use left, Resurrection usable, 33 Senzu Beans-and no Blade. If I died here, no one would know. Better that way.
I crushed the ticket.
The world inverted.
_________________
Layer 1 - The Crimson Catacombs
A spiral of crimson light swallowed me, depositing me on cold stone that smelled of iron and rot. The air was thick, humid, tasting of copper.
Torches guttered in sconces, casting long shadows across a cavernous hall-pillars carved with screaming faces, floors slick with congealed blood.
My hero boots splashed in shallow puddles that reflected a ceiling lost in darkness. Ocean stirred, sensing moisture everywhere-blood was water, after all.
A low hiss echoed. Then another. Then a hundred.
They poured from the shadows, llLayer 1 Vampires.
Humanoid, but wrong. Skin the color of spoiled milk, eyes glowing ember-red, claws like obsidian needles.
No larger than a middle-schooler, but fast. Swarm-class. Individually, each was maybe Peak Human+-stronger than a pro boxer, faster than a track star, durable enough to shrug off small-arms fire.
Alone, I'd crush them. Together? A different story.
The first wave hit like a tidal surge-fifty at once.
I activated Saiyan speed, green aura flaring internalized to avoid detection. My fist caved in the lead vampire's skull-brain matter splattering across three behind it-but the body kept moving, claws raking my forearm.
Regeneration. Not instant, but fast. I spun, Ocean tendrils lashing out-five pressurized water-whips slicing through torsos. Blood sprayed, but the halves crawled, reattaching with wet pops.
"Endless," I muttered, kicking one into a pillar. Bone shattered, but it laughed-a wet, gurgling sound-and lunged.
They adapted.
The swarm split-twenty flanking left, twenty right, ten leaping from the ceiling. I blasted upward with Saiyan flight, but the ceiling vampires latched onto my legs, fangs sinking into my calves.
Pain flared-venom, numbing, slowing. I roared, ki exploding outward in a shockwave that pulverized the ceiling swarm into red mist.
But the ground forces were already reforming, hundreds now, pouring from cracks in the walls like ants from a kicked hill.
Ocean surged to 62% instinctively-regional sense mapping every droplet of blood in a 70-meter radius. I pulled.
The blood on the floor rose in crimson ribbons, coalescing into liquid spears.
I hurled them-dozens at once, impaling vampires mid-leap. But the spears dissolved on contact, absorbed into their bodies. Blood manipulation resistance. They drank my attack.
I landed hard, cracking stone. "Fine. Brute force."
Saiyan Physiology kicked into overdrive-muscles swelling, green aura flaring visible now. I charged, fists blurring. One punch = three kills. Heads exploded, torsos bisected, limbs torn free.
But for every vampire I destroyed, five more spawned from the blood pools. The dungeon was feeding on the carnage.
Ten minutes in, I was surrounded-a living wall of claws and fangs. My costume shredded at the shoulders, blood-mine-mixing with theirs.
Ocean tendrils formed a 360-degree defense, whipping in circles, but the swarm pressed closer, climbing over their dead. One latched onto my back, fangs sinking into my neck.
Venom burned. I grabbed it, crushed its skull, but three more took its place.
I was losing.
Not in power-in space. The swarm's sheer numbers compressed me into a corner. My ki reserves dipped-Saiyan stamina infinite in theory, but not against infinite enemies. I needed a breakthrough.
Ocean whispered: "Control the medium."
The blood. It was everywhere-floor, walls, ceiling. Their blood. My element.
I slammed both palms to the ground. Ocean at 63%-blood ki manipulation. Every droplet in the hall answered.
The blood rose in a crimson tsunami, 10 meters high, crashing over the swarm. Vampires drowned in their own essence, bodies bloating, bursting.
I shaped the wave into spikes, blades, chains-a storm of liquid death. The hall became a blender.
But they kept coming. Thousands now. The dungeon laughed-a low, wet rumble from the walls.
I was overwhelmed.
A vampire tackled me from behind, claws raking my spine. Another bit my wrist. Venom stacked-vision blurring, limbs heavy.
I roared, ki exploding in a sphere that vaporized everything in a 15-meter radius. Silence. For three seconds.
Then the blood pooled again. Reforming. Stronger. Faster.
I fell to one knee, panting. "This... isn't a fight. It's a grind."
_________________
The Turning Point
Ocean surged to 64%-a desperate leap. I felt the dungeon's rhythm-the blood wasn't random. It pulsed from a central source. A heart. Somewhere deeper.
But I couldn't reach it. Not like this.
I activated All Fiction-one use left.
"I declare the blood in this hall finite."
Reality warped. The endless spawning stopped. The blood on the floor solidified into crimson crystal, trapping the remaining vampires mid-regeneration.
The swarm froze-thousands of statues, claws outstretched, mouths open in silent screams.
I stood, chest heaving. "Now... finish it."
Saiyan speed + Ocean tendrils-a blur of green and red. I moved through the frozen horde, fists shattering crystal, tendrils piercing hearts.
Each kill was permanent now. The hall echoed with the sound of breaking glass and wet thuds.
Twenty minutes of slaughter.
My knuckles bled, but Zenkai kicked in-micro-adaptations with every wound. Skin tougher. Muscles denser.
Ocean climbed to 65%-blood ki now an extension of my will, tendrils moving like extra limbs.
The last vampire-a larger one, Alpha strain-broke free of the crystal, lunging with a shriek.
I caught its throat, Ocean tendrils coiling its body, Saiyan strength crushing its spine. Its blood flowed into me-not draining, but absorbing. The dungeon rewarded the victor.
The hall went still. The torches flared brighter. A staircase materialized in the far wall-downward, into shadow.
Layer 1 cleared.
I wiped blood from my face, Senzu Bean #33 → 32. Full health. But the staircase pulsed with a new presence-colder, heavier. Footsteps echoed upward. Not the skittering of swarm vampires.
Something stronger.
The first of Layer 2 stepped into the torchlight.
Tall. Armored in bone-white plate. Eyes like molten gold. A single fang glinted as it smiled.
"Human," it hissed, voice like a blade on stone. "You've fed the dungeon well. Now... feed me."
Its aura hit like a physical blow-strong enough to kill me in one mistake.
I cracked my neck, Ocean at 65% humming in my veins, Saiyan ki flaring green.
"Bring it."