The broadcast did not open in a studio.
It opened in the sky.
Wind howled violently around the camera as the image shook, then stabilized, revealing the interior of a military-grade helicopter. Red warning lights flashed overhead. Harnesses rattled as turbulence rocked the cabin.
At the center of the frame sat the news anchor, strapped tightly into her seat, hair pulled back, makeup flawless only by sheer force of professionalism. Through the open side door behind her, the battlefield stretched endlessly below.
"Hello everyone," she said, her voice raised just enough to cut through the roar of the rotors. "You are watching a live broadcast from within the siege formation itself."
The camera shifted, panning past her shoulder.
Below, the ruined city sprawled like a corpse beneath a shroud of white mist. Entire districts were swallowed whole, buildings barely visible beneath the churning fog. The scale of it was overwhelming, unnatural.
"In just moments," she continued, "the world's heroes will begin their assault on the villain known as the White Whale. This operation involves coordinated forces from multiple nations and represents the largest global military and hero deployment in recorded history."
The feed cut briefly to an exterior shot.
Dozens of helicopters filled the sky, flanked by fighter jets screaming past in tight formation. Their contrails carved lines through the clouds like scars. Below them, armored columns advanced along shattered highways. Tanks rolled into firing positions. Soldiers moved in disciplined formations, weapons raised, eyes fixed on the impossible fog ahead.
A voice shouted from her headset.
"Viewership update. We just broke another global record. Every major network is carrying this live."
The anchor swallowed, her eyes flicking briefly toward the city below.
"The entire world," she said quietly, "is watching this unfold in real time."
The helicopter lurched as the formation adjusted.
The camera zoomed in.
At the forefront of the advance, the mist began to move.
Not expanding.
Recoiling.
A massive figure strode forward towards the fog, each step deliberate, each movement forcing the white haze back as if the air itself feared him.
All Might.
Even from this distance, his presence dominated the battlefield. With a swing of his arm, entire streets were cleared, the fog blasted away in violent shockwaves that sent debris flying.
"Visual confirmed," the anchor said, awe slipping into her voice. "That is All Might, the Worlds Symbol of Peace at the head of the siege!"
Beside him, flying with controlled precision, was Stars and Stripes.
The camera struggled to capture what she was doing.
The mist seemed to simply part around her. It bent. It folded away from her gestures, a site that seemed to defy logic. Entire pockets of air formed, allowing forces below to advance safely.
"And flying alongside him," the anchor continued, "America's current number two hero, Stars and Stripes, it looks like she's using her quirk to contain the fog."
Then the camera caught something else.
A much smaller figure in a white mask.
"Zoom," the anchor said sharply.
The lens tightened.
A unknown person wearing a plain white mask came into focus.
He appeared ahead of the heroes, cloak snapping violently in the wind, white uniform gleaming against the white mist. A strange crest adorned his cloak.
This was Reinhard van Astrea.
He swung once.
From the helicopter, the effect was unmistakable.
Boom!
From the sword arc, the mist detonated outward as if struck by a storm. Buildings emerged from nothingness. Entire blocks were revealed in an instant.
The anchor went silent for a beat.
"...Who," she asked softly, "is that?"
The helicopter crew murmured around her.
"Damn... That attack was on par with one of All Mights attacks."
"He just cleared half a district."
The camera caught another angle as Reinhard moved again, faster than the camera. His sword traced a line of light, and the fog could only obeyed, tearing apart as though cut by something far greater than steel.
"Incredible" the anchor said, voice unsteady.
On the ground, soldiers froze mid-advance, staring upward.
"Wow did you see that?" one shouted over the noise.
"That's the kid," another replied, disbelief thick in his voice. "That's the one they informed us about."
Behind the clearing front, support heroes rushed forward. Rescue and recon teams spread out, scanning streets and buildings for possible survivors.
"Recovery units, report your status," a coordinator demanded over the open channel.
Static answered first.
Then voices.
"No survivors located."
"Negative. Entire blocks are empty."
"There's nothing here."
The helicopter camera dipped lower, sweeping across the city whilst capturing images of the desolate city.
Doors stood open. Cars were abandoned mid-turn. A stroller lay overturned near a crosswalk. The city looked frozen in time, as if its people had simply vanished between breaths.
The mist surged again, rolling forward like a living tide towards the helicopter.
Panic rippled through the camera crew.
[Divine Protection of Wind Reading]
Reinhard sensed their distress, vanishing and appearing in front of them.
From the helicopter, it looked unreal.
He paused as if considering how much strength to put in, then stomped his foot against the street towards the mist.
The shockwave rippled outward in all directions, rattling the helicopter violently. Warning lights flashed as the pilot fought to stabilize.
"Holy shit!" the anchor gasped, gripping her harness.
Below, windows shattered in a wide radius. The mist recoiled violently, forced back by sheer pressure.
High above, flying parallel to the jets, Endeavor finally turned his attention fully toward the boy.
Flames flared brighter around him.
"So that's him," he muttered, voice picked up faintly through an open channel. "The one they're betting everything on."
The sky darkened.
The helicopter crew stiffened.
"Movement detected," the pilot said tensely. "On our twelve, the cloud mass is shifting."
The mist began to churn violently, spiraling upward as something enormous moved within it.
"Everyone," All Might's voice thundered across every frequency, "Its here! Brace yourselves!."
The fog split apart.
From the helicopter's vantage point, the White Whale emerged in full, horrifying scale.
Its colossal body eclipsed the skyline, pale flesh blotting out the sun as it drifted forward in unnatural silence. It skin looked pristine and smooth, but it did nothing to diminish its overwhelming presence.
The helicopters and jets shook violently as air pressure shifted from a movement of its tail.
The anchor stared, breath caught in her throat.
"That's it," she whispered. "That's the White Whale."
Stars and Stripes raised her hand.
"All units," she commanded, voice ironclad, "engage."
Jets roared as missiles streaked forward.
Endeavor surged ahead in an inferno of fire.
On the ground, Reinhard looked up.
Memories surged through him.
An empty coffin.
His grandfather's cries .
His father's decent into alcoholism.
His gaze hardened behind his mask.
[Divine Protection of the Clouds]
Reinhard stepped onto the air itself, sword gleaming, as the world watched the beginning of a battle that would decide everything.
"For the sake of the world" he murmured, unheard by anyone else, "I shall slay the calamity."