Location: United Nations Security Council – "The Black Room." Geneva, Switzerland.
Date: One Week After the Yokohama Contract
The air in the subterranean bunker beneath Geneva was freezing cold and heavy with the bitter scent of stale espresso and burning tobacco.
The Chairman stood at the head of the polished obsidian table. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a month. He stared down at the glowing holographic map of the world illuminating the center of the room.
"For months, the man known as All For One has treated the globe like his personal chemistry set," the British Director of MI6 stated.
Her voice was tight with exhaustion as she slid a thick, classified intelligence dossier across the stone.
The holographic map flared an angry, violent red.
"He has completely flooded the underworld with the enhanced Trigger drug," she continued, tapping the screen to bring up horrific field footage.
"We aren't just dealing with street-level thugs getting a temporary power boost anymore. The drug has leaked into the ecosystem. The mutations are tearing our infrastructure apart."
The Russian Director of Intelligence leaned his massive frame forward, his face grim. "In Siberia, a pack of starving wolves ingested a contaminated water supply. They mutated into building-sized anomalies with reinforced bone plating. They leveled two of our classified military outposts before a localized airstrike could put them down. We lost two hundred soldiers to feral animals."
"Hong Kong is burning," the Chinese MSS Director stated flatly, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "The local Triads acquired a massive shipment of the enhanced variant. Last night, a low-level smuggling ring used the drug to wipe out three top-tier hero agencies in the span of twenty minutes. They didn't just defeat the heroes; they liquefied them."
The French Delegate rubbed his temples, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. "In Paris, a purse-snatcher panicked when cornered by police, injected a single vial, and accidentally melted a subway train full of commuters. The sheer volume of the drug on the streets... it's impossible for one man to distribute it all manually."
"A drug requires a physical supply chain," the US Representative agreed, his eyes narrowing at the glowing red dots scattered across the map. "Smugglers. Laboratories. Warehouses. Thanks to the joint efforts of our global intelligence divisions, we have finally mapped the physical veins of his empire. We have the coordinates of his primary manufacturing hubs."
"Are we absolutely certain these locations are accurate?" the Chairman asked. "If we miss even one primary hub, the black market will just re-route the supply. All For One is meticulous."
"The intelligence is verified," the Chinese Director nodded grimly. "But Mr. Chairman... before we discuss the strike, we have to address the other variable. The one we are all pretending doesn't exist."
The US Representative sighed heavily. He didn't wait for permission. He tapped a key on his console.
The red map of the globe vanished. It was replaced by a high-definition, unedited photograph taken by Sato Press just a week prior.
It was a concrete retaining wall in Naruhata Park.
Etched into the stone were the high-contrast, two-dimensional charcoal drawings of fifty identical men.
They were the suicide bombers the Villain Factory had deployed. They were flattened completely into the molecular structure of the concrete.
Their white, circular eyes were wide with panic, and their mouths were stretched open in silent, permanent screams.
The room went dead silent. The breathing of the most powerful people on the planet completely stopped.
"Hero X," the Russian Director whispered. The hardened spymaster sounded utterly terrified.
"He edited fifty living creatures out of the three-dimensional plane," the US Representative finished, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
The French Delegate looked across the table at the Japanese Official.
"You've had hazard teams analyzing that wall for a week," he said, his voice shaking. "Tell them what you found."
The Japanese Official swallowed hard. She looked years older than she had at the last meeting, her eyes hollow and dark.
"There is no mass," she reported softly. "There is no volume, no heat signature, and no residual quirk energy. Physics simply... stopped applying to them. The public watched him rewrite reality with a snap of his fingers. And the fallout is a theological nightmare."
She looked down at her hands, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"The Japanese public is no longer treating him like a vigilante. They are treating him like a deity. The internet forums aren't discussing his quirk; they are praying to him. They believe he is divine judgment. The Hero Public Safety Commission has completely lost control of the narrative. Our laws mean nothing to the citizens anymore. How do we legislate a god?"
Bang.
"Enough." The Chairman's voice cracked like a whip. He slammed his hand flat against the obsidian table, the sharp sound echoing off the lead-lined walls and breaking the trance.
"Hero X is an anomaly. A terrifying, unpredictable force of nature," the Chairman stated, his eyes hard and uncompromising.
"You don't arrest a hurricane. You don't put handcuffs on an earthquake. But more importantly, Hero X is not actively trying to collapse our society. He only acts with his mood."
The Chairman pointed a rigid finger at the blank screen.
"All For One is the man burning the house down," the Chairman snarled, his voice rising with absolute authority. "The Demon Lord has explicitly declared war on the modern world. He is flooding our streets with monsters and drugs. We cannot afford to sit here and be paralyzed by a ghost when there is a monster standing right in front of us, actively slitting our throats."
The room slowly grounded itself. The panic receded, replaced by cold, desperate resolve. The world leaders sat up straighter.
"We are issuing the 'Global Purge' directive," the Chairman announced, his tone leaving absolutely no room for debate.
"This is a top-secret, Omega-level classification. No press. No warnings. We have the coordinates. We have the targets. In exactly three weeks, at zero-four-hundred hours, the top-ranking Pro Heroes and military strike teams in every allied nation will launch simultaneous, coordinated raids on every known Trigger factory on the planet. We cut off the head of the snake all at once."
The US Representative nodded, pulling out a tactical folder. "And for Japan? The intelligence confirms All For One's primary stronghold—his crown jewel—is buried deep beneath Shizuoka."
"Japan receives the hammer," the Chairman said coldly, staring at the Japanese Official.
"The United Nations mandates a joint operation to ensure the absolute destruction of that facility. All Might will lead the primary breach. And to ensure the public sees a united global front... Captain Celebrity will act as his vanguard. In three weeks, we show the Demon Lord that the world still has teeth."
-----
Location: Yokohama – Gunslinger Agency Urban Training Ground
The Same Day
The Yokohama training ground was no longer a chaotic, deafening warzone of shattered concrete and wild gunfire.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
Click-clack.
It was quiet, save for the synchronized shuffling of boots on the pavement and the heavy breathing of exhausted men.
It felt less like a police firing range and more like a traditional, highly disciplined martial arts dojo.
"Posture. Center your gravity," Kaito Arisaka instructed, his voice echoing cleanly across the open courtyard.
Twelve sidekicks stood in perfect, spaced-out rows. They weren't hiding behind barricades anymore. They were standing in the open, holding their unloaded training pistols, practicing the fluid, geometric forms of the Gun Kata. Sweat dripped from their foreheads under the afternoon sun.
"A firearm is not a shield. It is an extension of your own fist," Kaito said, walking slowly down the row. He stopped next to a veteran sidekick named Flak, a man in his mid-thirties with a scarred jaw.
Flak's Quirk was Scattershot, an ability that allowed him to multiply any projectile he fired, turning a single bullet into a shotgun blast.
It was incredible for suppressing fire, but an absolute nightmare for collateral damage.
"You are leaning back, Flak," Kaito noted, gently tapping the older hero's elbow to correct his angle. "Your Quirk naturally widens your fire radius. If you lock your elbows and angle your wrists down by exactly three degrees, you contain the geometric spread to a one-meter circle. Maximum impact, zero civilian risk."
Flak adjusted his stance, sweeping his arms in a crisp, calculated arc. He visualized the spread. A massive, relieved grin broke across his grizzled face.
"You're right. That completely closes my blind spots," Flak said, lowering his weapon and giving Kaito a respectful nod. "Thank you, Manager Arisaka."
Kaito moved to the next row, adjusting the breathing of a young rookie named Tracer, whose Laser Sight Quirk often made him hold his breath for too long, depriving his brain of oxygen during firefights.
Kaito nodded, satisfied with the group's progress.
In just one week, the collateral damage rate of the entire agency had plummeted to absolute zero.
They were no longer a squad of trigger-happy shooters; they were becoming precision instruments.
"You've got them moving like dancers, Arisaka," a deep, raspy voice said from the sidelines.
Snipe walked onto the field, wearing his heavy leather coat and industrial gas mask. He held a custom, heavy-caliber revolver in his hand.
The sidekicks immediately snapped to attention, holstering their weapons.
"They are learning the geometry of the battlefield, Snipe-san," Kaito replied, turning to face the Pro Hero. "They are understanding that combat is simply a mathematical equation. Take five, everyone. Hydrate."
The sidekicks bowed respectfully before jogging over to the water coolers, leaving Kaito and Snipe alone in the center of the field.
Snipe tipped his wide-brimmed hat.
In just a week, the Top 25 Hero had completely mastered the core forms of the Gun Kata. His Quirk, Homing, allowed him to lock onto targets, but Kaito's martial arts allowed Snipe to maneuver his body perfectly to avoid return fire while shooting.
"When you curved that bullet around the pillar last week..." Snipe began, his western drawl thick with curiosity as he spun the cylinder of his revolver. "I assumed that was your Quirk doing the heavy lifting. You manipulated the air pressure to bend the shot, right?"
"No," Kaito replied smoothly. "I have a quirk factor but it is unusable since it is a biological rejection. It is essentially a defect that harms my body when I use it. I possess no telekinetic or elemental abilities, Snipe-san. The foundation of that curve? The actual technique? That is purely physics, adrenaline, and kinetic force. And I can teach you how to do it."
Snipe froze, his hand stopping on the cylinder. He narrowed his eyes beneath his mask, his posture shifting from relaxed to highly observant.
"Hold on a minute," Snipe rasped, stepping closer. "You're a specialist manager, Arisaka. You handle company organization, paperwork, and budgets. I've seen your public resume. Where the hell does a civilian Haken Specialist learn how to hijack his own nervous system for lethal combat?"
Kaito didn't flinch. He looked back at Snipe with a steady calm.
"My Quirk rejects standard medical treatments. I cannot be healed by normal means, and I have absolutely no offensive power. In a world filled with superhumans, that makes me uniquely vulnerable," Kaito explained, seamlessly fabricating the lie.
Kaito raised his hand, gesturing to his own chest.
"I didn't learn this in a boardroom, Snipe," Kaito said. "When you are a fragile, baseline human walking through a city that gets destroyed by villains every other week, you have two choices: you either learn exactly what the human body is capable of, or you die. I studied anatomy, kinesthetics, and physics in my free time. I learned how to manually trigger my own survival instincts, simply to stay alive in the crossfire."
Snipe stared at him. The explanation hit hard. It wasn't corporate genius; it was raw, unfiltered survival.
It demanded a terrifying level of discipline, and it perfectly explained why a man without a combat quirk was so lethal.
"You're a frightening man, Arisaka," Snipe muttered, shaking his head in reluctant awe. "Alright. Show me how it works."
"Your Quirk allows you to guarantee a hit, Snipe-san, but it does not dictate the path the bullet takes," Kaito said, stepping twenty meters away from a solid steel barricade.
Behind the barricade stood a red holographic target, completely obscured from their direct line of sight. "If a villain is hiding behind a hostage, your Quirk might inadvertently curve the bullet through the hostage's shoulder to reach the target. To be a true master, you must dictate the trajectory yourself."
Kaito raised the pistol. He held it sideways, extending his arm straight out.
"This relies on absolute biological control," Kaito instructed softly. "You must force your body to dump a massive spike of adrenaline into your bloodstream. You push your heart rate over four hundred beats per minute. In doing so, you enter a state of hyper-perception. Time will literally appear to slow down around you."
Snipe listened intently, captivated by the sheer extremity of the technique. "Four hundred beats a minute? How do you even train for that kind of biological overdrive without your heart giving out?"
"The training is brutal," Kaito answered honestly, his voice flat but carrying a dark promise. "The human body naturally releases that level of adrenaline only during near-death experiences. So, we will simulate absolute physiological terror. Starting tomorrow, I will subject you to extreme sensory overload, simulated suffocation, and relentless live-fire pressure. I will push your body to the absolute brink of panic to force the adrenaline out."
Snipe swallowed hard, the leather of his coat creaking as he tensed.
"And while your brain is screaming at you to survive," Kaito continued relentlessly, "I will force you to calculate spatial geometry. You will learn to channel that sheer, blinding panic into absolute, clinical focus."
HUUFF.
Kaito took a slow, deep breath.
To prove it wasn't a magic trick, Kaito actually exerted himself. His eyes sharpened.
A bead of sweat formed on his temple as he artificially spiked his own heart rate, utilizing the very technique he just described. The veins on his forearm bulged against the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt.
SWISH.
Kaito whipped his arm forward in a violent, horizontal arc.
At the absolute apex of the swing, in the microscopic window of ignition, his finger snapped the trigger.
BANG!
The sharp crack of the gunshot echoed across the courtyard. Kaito transferred the sheer, tearing momentum of his swinging arm directly into the projectile.
The rubber-coated bullet tore through the air. It didn't fly straight. The violent spin and the massive lateral force grabbed the wind resistance, violently curving the bullet in a wide, lethal arc.
It bypassed the steel barricade entirely, hooking sharply to the left, and slammed directly into the center of the hidden holographic target's forehead.
BEEP.
The target powered down.
By the water coolers, Flak, Tracer, and the other sidekicks dropped their water bottles.
They stared at the target, their mouths hanging open in pure disbelief. Looking at it, the second time they can't still explain it how is it done.
Snipe stood completely motionless.
He looked at the smoking barrel of Kaito's pistol, and then at the barricade.
He was a master marksman, a man whose entire life was dedicated to firearms, and he had just watched a man bend the laws of physics using nothing but martial arts and sheer survival instinct.
PUFF.
"It takes a severe physical toll on the rotator cuff," Kaito said, exhaling slowly, visibly forcing his heart rate back down to a normal rhythm.
Kacha.
He smoothly ejected the magazine and set the gun on the table. "But if you survive the training, Snipe, no villain will ever be able to use a civilian as a human shield against you again."
Snipe slowly reached up and took off his cowboy hat. He held it against his chest.
He didn't speak as a Pro Hero to a manager. He spoke as a martial artist to a grandmaster.
"Arisaka," Snipe rasped, his voice thick with profound, unwavering respect. "What you are offering to teach us here... it goes beyond hero work. This is a lethal art."
Snipe placed his hand over his heart and bowed deeply, lowering his head.
"I accept your training. I swear to you, on my license and my life," Snipe vowed, his tone carrying the heavy weight of an ironclad oath.
"The Gun Kata and the Curve will be treated as sacred techniques of this agency. They will be heavily guarded. I will personally ensure that no villain ever learns the secrets of this."
Kaito looked at the bowing Pro Hero, and then at the sidekicks who were looking at him with absolute reverence.
He offered a small, genuine smile. He wasn't just fixing a company; he was passing down a legacy.
"I trust you, Snipe," Kaito said warmly. "Class dismissed."
-----
Location: Global Coordinates – Operation: Purge
Date: Three Weeks Later (04:00 Hours)
At exactly 4:00 AM, the world struck back.
There were no press releases. There were no news helicopters in the sky.
Across twelve different time zones, military-grade signal jammers plunged the targeted coordinates into total digital blackouts.
Beneath the bustling streets of Cairo, Egypt, the heavy iron doors of a subterranean smuggling ring were blown off their hinges.
BANG.
The Pro Hero Salaam entered the fray. He didn't waste time with banter.
His paper-thin, two-dimensional body folded and twisted through the air, effortlessly dodging the frantic gunfire of Trigger-enhanced thugs before he incapacitated them with razor-sharp, high-velocity strikes to their nerve clusters.
Thousands of miles away, at a quarantined shipping port in Singapore, the roar of rushing water echoed into the night.
WHOOSH.
The National Hero Big Red Dot stood atop a stack of shipping containers, his mane glowing as he unleashed a massive, hyper-pressurized torrent of water.
He pinned an entire syndicate of Villain Factory smugglers against the steel hulls of their cargo ships, crushing their operations in less than sixty seconds.
And in the United States, the earth above a decommissioned missile silo in the Nevada desert violently fractured.
The American Pro Hero Cow Lady had transformed into her massive, hulking minotaur state.
CRAACK. THUD.
With a single, earth-shattering charge, she obliterated the reinforced concrete bunker shielding a massive Trigger laboratory.
Through the dust of the shattered bunker, a tall, muscular woman in a starry uniform walked forward.
It was Cathleen Bate—the hero known as Star and Stripe.
She looked at the hundreds of armed, drug-enhanced mercenaries scrambling to aim their weapons at her.
She didn't flinch. She simply reached out and touched the atmosphere itself.
"New Order," Cathleen commanded, her voice ringing with absolute, god-like authority. "The air inside this facility will solidify into steel restraints around the wrists of anyone holding a weapon."
Clack-clack-clack!
In a single heartbeat, two hundred mercenaries dropped to the floor, their hands pinned behind their backs by invisible, unbreakable shackles of solid air.
The American hub fell without a single casualty.
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Shizuoka Prefecture, Japan – The Primary Hub
Date: 04:00 Hours
The Shizuoka mountains were dead silent under the freezing rain.
Deep underground, standing before the massive, reinforced steel doors of All For One's primary drug warehouse, the Symbol of Peace took a slow, deep breath.
HUFF-PUFF.
He was in his muscular form, his golden hair casting long shadows in the dim emergency lighting.
But he wasn't smiling.
To the public, All Might was a beacon of joy. He smiled to drown out the fear of the civilians. He laughed to reassure the cameras.
But here, buried in the dark, with no civilians to protect and no cameras to watch him, the smile was gone.
His blue eyes were serious, glowing with the terrifying, hardened focus of a veteran soldier hunting the monster who had killed his master.
This was what Toshinori Yagi looked like when he was fighting for his life.
All Might reached out and dug his massive fingers directly into the solid steel seam of the blast doors.
CRUNCH-TEAR.
He didn't announce his presence. He simply flexed his back and pulled the steel apart like wet cardboard, setting the twisted metal down quietly to minimize the echo.
Inside the cavernous factory, fifty armed thugs were patrolling the catwalks above massive, bubbling vats of the Trigger drug.
"Move," All Might whispered.
FWOOSH.
He became a silent, devastating blur of sheer kinetic force.
The wind pressure of his movement alone knocked the first dozen villains unconscious before they could even reach for their radios.
All Might moved like a phantom, delivering precise, surgical chops to the back of their necks.
He didn't use wide-scale shockwaves; he contained his strength perfectly to avoid igniting the highly volatile chemicals.
But the sheer air pressure of his speed had a consequence.
Crr-ack.
Above him, the ceiling of the cavern groaned. The displaced air had fractured the primary support pillars holding up hundreds of tons of rock.
Chunks of concrete the size of cars began to plummet toward the chemical vats.
ZOOOM.
A golden blur shot past All Might in the darkness.
Captain Celebrity intercepted the falling debris.
He didn't smash it dramatically; he caught the massive concrete slabs on his shoulders, his aerodynamic force-field flaring with a muted, focused hum.
Instead of flexing or looking around for an audience, Christopher Skyline's eyes darted across the room, rapidly calculating the load-bearing stress points just as he had been taught.
"All Might," Captain Celebrity said through his encrypted earpiece, his voice dead serious. "The structural integrity is compromised at Sector Four. I'm initiating the Aegis Protocol. I will brace the ceiling and secure the chemical perimeter. You finish neutralizing the hostiles."
All Might blinked, genuinely surprised by the transmission.
The American hero was historically a chaotic, arrogant glory-hound who broke as many windows as he saved.
But right now, operating in total darkness, Skyline was displaying flawless, coordinated discipline.
It was as if he was following an invisible, perfectly written manual of logistics.
"Understood," All Might replied into his comms. 'Arisaka-shonen really changed this guy.'
Within four minutes, the entire factory was secured.
The JSDF black-ops units swarmed in from the breach, zip-tying the unconscious villains and locking down the massive vats of enhanced Trigger.
Captain Celebrity landed silently next to All Might, brushing the concrete dust off his cape.
"Perimeter secure," Skyline reported quietly, his posture rigid. "Zero structural collapse. No chemical leaks. Manager's tactical manuals really do work miracles."
All Might stood in the center of the massive room, his face grim.
He looked at the captured thugs being dragged away in the tactical lighting.
They were weak.
They were terrified, low-level street criminals who had folded the second the heroes entered the room.
The Symbol of Peace frowned, a deep, unsettling feeling twisting in his gut.
He walked over to a massive, heavy vault door at the back of the facility. It was marked with a faded biohazard symbol and secured with heavy electronic deadbolts.
This was supposed to be the staging ground for the Nomus.
All Might grabbed the locking mechanism and crushed it in his palm, kicking the heavy door open.
He expected an ambush. He expected All For One himself, waiting with a mocking smile.
He found nothing.
The vault was entirely empty. The concrete floor had been swept clean.
The heavy industrial cabling that used to power massive biological life-support tanks had been severed, burned, and hastily capped off.
"This isn't right," All Might whispered, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber. "The UN intelligence confirmed this was his primary hub. The heart of the Villain Factory. Where are the expiremental monsters? Where is the resistance?"
Captain Celebrity stepped into the vault, looking at the severed cables and the empty floor.
"They didn't put up a fight," Skyline noted, his brow furrowing. "They didn't even set traps to cover their escape."
It was too easy. The villains hadn't fought to protect this place.
They had deliberately abandoned it.
-----
Location: Secret Sub-Level – All For One's True Sanctuary
Date: 04:15 Hours
Deep beneath a completely different mountain range, utterly untouched by the UN's global raid, the true heart of the Villain Factory hummed with dark, quiet energy.
Dr. Kyudai Garaki sat in a worn leather chair, bathed in the pale light of a massive wall of security monitors.
There were no global news broadcasts. The media was completely blind to what was happening on the surface.
Instead, Garaki was watching their own encrypted internal security feeds.
On screen after screen, the feeds showed the same violent story. In Cairo, the camera shook violently before turning to static.
In Nevada, the feed showed a massive minotaur tearing the steel doors off their hinges before the signal died.
And on the center monitor—the Shizuoka hub—Garaki watched All Might and Captain Celebrity tear through the empty vault before the camera was crushed by a stray piece of concrete.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
One by one, the screens turned to gray static.
"They actually fell for it, Master!" Garaki wheezed, a manic, breathless laugh escaping his throat as he adjusted his thick goggles. "All Might and that American are tearing the empty Shizuoka hub apart as we speak. The governments think this is a decisive strike. They think they caught us sleeping!"
All For One stood in the center of the dimly lit sanctuary. He wore a pristine black suit, his posture completely straight, his hands resting comfortably behind his back.
"Let them smash the concrete, Doctor," All For One said softly, his voice a smooth, chilling baritone. "I knew the intelligence agencies were probing us for months. I left those obsolete facilities intact on purpose. Let the United Nations waste billions of dollars and their top heroes' stamina to sweep up our discarded scraps."
All For One turned away from the dead monitors.
He walked slowly toward a massive, reinforced glass viewing deck at the edge of the room.
Below him, stretching out into a subterranean cavern the size of a football stadium, were thousands of glowing, neon-green gestation tanks.
They were not ready.
Blub-blub blub.
Blub-blub blub.
Blub-blub blub.
Inside the bubbling fluid, the silhouettes of hulking, multi-limbed slabs of pure, unadulterated biological violence were slowly growing.
They were exact replicas of the Type-Zero monster that had nearly beaten Knuckleduster to death in Naruhata, but they were still incubating.
"Brute force means nothing to him. If I send my strongest fighter to challenge him, he will simply erase the fight. If I faced him head-on, I wouldn't even get the chance to strike. I would simply be rewritten. He does not fight; he deletes."
All For One pressed his bare hand against the cold glass, watching the slow heartbeat of the growing monsters.
"But every human mind has a breaking point, Kyudai. Every man can only hold so much water in his hands before it spills through his fingers," the Demon Lord whispered, his smile widening into something truly demonic.
"The Consumables are incubating perfectly, Master," Garaki grinned, walking up beside him with a heavy, reinforced tablet. "Two thousand Type-Zero units. By the time they finish gestating in a few months, they will be pumped with three hundred percent Trigger output. Their bodies cannot handle the strain. Their hearts will literally detonate from the internal pressure in exactly three minutes. They are biologically designed to die. But for those three minutes... they will be faster and stronger than anything this world has ever seen. They will exert 300% of their power."
"The United Nations thinks the war is over," All For One said quietly, looking down at the sleeping, growing army.
He was a patient man. He had lived for over a century. He could wait a few more months to watch the world burn.
_-_-_-_-_
07:00 Hours (Three Hours Post-Raid)
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Tokyo skyline.
Kaito Arisaka sat alone in his quiet, minimalist office.
He held a cup of black coffee, his eyes tracking the scrolling news feeds on his monitor.
[GLOBAL VICTORY: Pro Heroes Dismantle the Villain Factory! All Might Secures Shizuoka Hub!]
The entire country was celebrating. The internet was flooded with images of captured thugs and seized chemical vats.
But Kaito wasn't smiling. He was typing.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
He pulled up the public police reports, cross-referencing the seized assets with the logistical data of the underground black market he had mapped out months ago.
Kaito looked at the arrest numbers. He looked at the seized inventory.
"They captured street-level distributors and empty machinery. But the actual bio-assets? The Nomus? The high-tier guards? The capital?"
Kaito leaned back in his chair, his mind rapidly constructing the corporate logic of All For One's empire.
If you are a CEO under investigation, you don't leave your most valuable assets in the warehouse. You leave the trash to distract the auditors.
"He liquidated his obsolete inventory," Kaito whispered.
Slurp
'But prime AFO problem should be given to prime All Might. They're destined opposition after all.' Kaito thought as took a sip of his coffee.
_-_-_-_-_
Support the journey here:
patreon.com/Dr_Chad
(9 Advanced Chapters)