Chapter Text
God is not God.
That is to say, the God that the world knows is not the God of religions, the perfect, omniscient, benevolent being that would allow imperfect beings to intrude upon his heavenly home. That God may or may not exist; no one really knows for sure.
The God that the world knows is a god, lowercase g. Not perfect, not omnipotent, and not always benevolent. The only reason you’d call it with a capital G is because its name is quite literally God, and it would be rude to capitalize names such as Jack and Jill, but not God.
No one knows much about that God either, just slightly more than the perfect God. When it finds a willing vessel it asks if that vessel is willing to carry out its orders, in exchange for strength. If the vessel agrees, then they are given the devil’s deal: unimaginable powers in exchange for following the word of a strange being, and to never breathe a word about who it truly is.
If that deal is broken, God will not hesitate to bring down judgement upon such failures. And nothing is quite as terrifying as seeing a being who can give such unimaginable power, try to kill you.
Of the few things that can even compare to that terror are the S Class.
In the early days of the Hero Association, there were only three Classes: A, B and C. If you didn’t fight to maintain your rank, you could slip from the top of A to the bottom of C in a matter of seconds. So it was particularly difficult to find talent within the system.
Then the Hero Association realized that there were outliers: there were monsters too strong for even the A Class to handle, and the heroes that fodderized these monsters. Clearly, these heroes were head and shoulders above the rest of the pack, yet their ranks were in the low C’s and B’s at best.
So the Hero Association decided to take these outliers, and make a completely new Class.
At first, those who fought for dominance in the A Class were furious. How dare these upstarts rise above them in rank when they had put in no work whatsoever? There were continuous complaints and even a strike at one point.
Then they saw the S Class in action, and their voices died down almost immediately.
For all that they are, heroes are mere humans. Extremely powerful humans, the weakest of whom hits harder than a rifle, but humans nonetheless. How are mortal men expected to face down behemoths that tower over the largest skyscrapers and smash through steel and concrete with a swipe of their fingers?
And how are mortal men expected to compare to the people that can stroll up to and end these behemoths as casually as they would tell a joke or get up from bed?
Suddenly, all the fighting for ranks seemed insane and petty, and the organization system settled down. Even if the hero Sweet Mask had never begun gatekeeping the entrance to the S Class, it is doubtful anyone would have taken the opportunity to advance voluntarily.
Because everyone knows the S Class are insane.
So, it’s no surprise that even their enemies would run from them, terrified. Even the monsters that have lost their mind to bloodlust and know nothing but to kill.
Just half an hour earlier, the S Class had infiltrated the Monster Association. The monsters met them with glee, with the promise that they would be able to make a name for themselves if they took down an A, or even S Class.
Those monsters were no laughing matters; a single Tiger level threat is able to slaughter multiple people at once, and at the time there were thousands and thousands of Tigers, ready to kill. A horde of monsters, each individually strong enough to rip through an entire apartment complex without a second thought, screaming for blood as they charged a group of merely twenty or thirty Heroes. How could just a few men and women beat creatures that had sacrificed their humanity for power?
As it turns out, quite easily.
The S Class didn’t even interfere with the battles until the Rhino Wrestler appeared, and began to toss aside A and B Class heroes like ragdolls. The only one able to even consider standing up to this beast was Iaian, disciple of Atomic Samurai, the number two A Class hero, and even then he was barely in a stalemate.
Merely the fact that he was able to exchange blows with a monster that can destroy entire cities is impressive enough, never mind how he was able to hold his own.
But the S Class didn’t interfere because their juniors were doing terribly. They interfered because it was taking too much time.
A single slash each from Atomic Samurai and Flashy Flash was enough to halve the horde.
A single thought from the Tornado of Terror and half the survivors were crushed into boxes of flesh and bone.
Superalloy Darkshine merely ran forward, and yet whenever a monster even so much as touched him, it died instantly.
Even the one that looked the weakest of the bunch, the ten year old Child Emperor, didn’t even have to look up from his computer as mechanical arms whipped themselves off his backpack and tore his attackers to shreds.
The S Class are insane.
Is it any wonder that, when the S Class entered the base itself, there were monsters that ran for their lives?
One such monster finds itself sweating as it hides in a room, hearing the sounds of its comrades being cut down nearby. At another time, it would have admired the contents of the storeroom it sat in; immeasurable riches were arrayed across the floor, a scene right out of a fairytale.
As it takes a step back out of fear, it feels its foot bump into something, and it looks down to see a small black cube, just large enough to fit in a human hand.
Hello there. Do you have a wish?
The monster blinks, stares back down at the cube, then thinks about the words that just ran through its head.
“I wish… I wish… I wish I was safe and there wasn’t any trouble at all. I wish you’d send the heroes and the stronger monsters away… ”
... Will that be all?
The voice is quiet, disapproving, but the monster doesn’t care. It nods its head quickly, not caring that the room is pitch black, and squeaks out a response. “Y-yes.”
... Your wish is granted.
Izuku Midoriya is terrified out of his mind.
How can a single field trip go so wrong? It was supposed to be a day of fun and hard work, to learn how to rescue civilians. Mr. Aizawa and Thirteen were supposed to be watching them go through simulations of floods and earthquakes and fires. All Might was supposed to appear just for a quick lecture then leave. The USJ was supposed to be… fun.
And yet, Mr. Aizawa is on the ground and dying, and All Might is struggling to best the creature known as the Nomu.
The strange hand villain - Shigaraki? - laughs as the two behemoths bash at each other to no avail. “You can’t beat him, All Might. Nomu is engineered to beat you. Even if you somehow bypass Shock Absorption, he can regenerate faster than you can punch.”
The number one hero roars, and throws another volley of punches, sending the Nomu back. “Do you really think that’ll be enough to stop me, villain? Plus Ultra!”
All Might draws back his arm, then swings, and the shockwave is enough to send the onlookers a step back. The Nomu is thrown to the side, its right arm suddenly gone, and it tumbles on the ground as All Might begins to step forward.
The monster stands, and the stump of its arm begins to wriggle, before it bursts outwards, and solidifies itself into a limb once more.
The green-haired boy’s heart sinks as he sees his mentor begin to breathe heavily, and the steam that begins to rise off of him. All Might’s time is running out, and the Nomu is no less powerful than it was minutes before.
Then there’s a flash of light, so blinding that everyone throws their hands up and flinches away, and even then it’s enough to sear their eyes.
When he’s able to see again, Izuku sees two figures standing there, one much larger than the other. The taller one is a boy, just a few years older than Izuku himself but much taller and more muscular, with bandages wrapped around his face, black pants and a jacket covering a school uniform. His pompadour and furious dark eyes only reinforce the image of a delinquent. Sweat covers his head, as if he had just been running.
Most interesting is the gleaming silver bat that rests on his shoulder.
He looks around confusedly, and takes a step around. “What the… Zenko, where are we?”
The little girl next to him is about half his height, and has the same facial features as her older brother, but not the same temperament. A cardigan and frock fit on her prettily, as do her black shoes and frilly socks. If Izuku had to say, she looks around nine or ten years old.
She gasps at the sight of the Nomu and grabs her brother’s arm. The delinquent sees the monster as well, and slits his eyes, taking in the scene. “A monster… so you wanted to take Zenko hostage while I was injured so you could blackmail the S Class, is that it? Oh, you fucking bastards.”
He ruffles his sister’s hair absentmindedly, and raises the bat in his hands. “Zenko, go over there with those kids. And don’t look, because I promised not to show violence to you, remember?”
“Who the hell is this? Nomu, just kill him.”
The little girl dashes over to the group of students, decidedly not looking back, with a look of worry on her face. All Might, who has sunk to his knees, calls out with fear on his face. “Young man, you cannot hope to fight this villain, please, withdraw-”
The Nomu is suddenly in front of the delinquent, and a single strike sends the teen stumbling. There’s an ugly crack as the boy’s head hits the ground, and the monster raises its hands over its head to finish the job. Several people scream as they watch the monster, just a heartbeat away from taking a life, and Izuku recognizes his own voice among them.
“Oi, you FUCKING bastard!”
There’s another crack, and suddenly the Nomu is staggering to the side. The delinquent rises to his feet, and there’s an angry air about his figure. Blood drips from his arm onto the ground, but he doesn’t seem to care.
Everyone else does, though.
Izuku gasps unwillingly, and he can hear several similar reactions from his classmates. All Might’s jaw drops, almost touching his neck, and the hero has stopped moving completely, in order to watch.
“How the-- How did you survive a strike from Nomu?!” Shigaraki’s voice shrills out as the boy hefts his bat. “That should have been enough to put a dent into even All Might--”
“Fuck reasons, it’s FIGHTING SPIRIT!”
The bat smashes into the Nomu’s head and it staggers again, before swinging at the boy. He takes the hit to the head, but remains standing, and bashes the monster over the head once more. The Nomu is forced to take a step back, and it’s like the delinquent was waiting for it.
A barrage of blows smashes into the colossus, and blood begins to paint the ground as slowly but surely, the immovable object begins to falter, to fall back. The gleam of the silver bat flashes so quickly it makes Izuku dizzy just from looking at it.
Somehow, he feels bad for the villain that was able to hold its ground against All Might.
The Nomu falls to its knees, and a final swing sends it crashing to the ground. The delinquent kicks at it, before whirling around, and Izuku flinches. Fury is drawn all over his face, and he jerks his finger at Shigaraki, who involuntarily takes a step back. “You bastard, allying yourself with a monster? How low--”
The Nomu’s hand grabs at his ankle and throws, flinging the boy across the USJ to smash into buildings far, far away. As one, the students breathe sharply in horror as it rises, its injuries already beginning to heal, though much slower than before.
Shigaraki lets out a laugh like nails screeching across metal, without a sign of nervousness. “Do you see, All Might? Nomu is unstoppable! You can’t--”
A building in the distance shatters into pieces, and everyone whirls around to watch it collapse. More gasps echo as the boy steps forward, fury painting itself all over his face, along with the blood that streaks across his forehead. His jacket is torn and his uniform ripped, but he doesn’t look like he cares as he flicks the blood off his face. He grits his teeth, then roars. “YOU MESSED UP NOW, YOU FUCKING BASTARD.”
There’s a burst of wind and Izuku feels a blast of air whoosh by him before the delinquent is suddenly in front of the Nomu. Before he can blink, the boy swings, and the bat smashes itself into the villain’s skin.
The shockwave sends him back, even as he sees the blunt metal cut through flesh and bone. The Nomu explodes as if it had shattered into a million different pieces, and gore sprays across the USJ. The metal bat cleaves through the villain, then hits the ground, and the floor splits itself in half at the blow.
There’s no way anything can recover from that. And even if it could, it would take too long to recover to be able to do anything.
Shigaraki roars furiously, and bounces forward. “You’re open, you fucking side quest!”
The teen whirls around, faster than anyone can react, and readies to swing his back. Kurogiri tenses, before his form whirls in front of the hand-wearing villain. The bat smashes into the fog-man’s metal faceplate, shattering it completely into two, and throws both villains far backwards, into the boundaries of the USJ.
The teleporter is probably lucky the blow only glanced off of him, because otherwise he probably wouldn’t have a head left.
The delinquent takes a single step forward, and raises his bat menacingly.
“Kurogiri! KUROGIRI WE GOTTA RUN--” Shigaraki’s voice is hoarse as he shakes at his injured companion, terror in his eyes. The other villain’s eyes snap open, and with a purple shiver, the two of them fade out into a portal, and disappear.
The delinquent stops, then sighs and turns around. His eyes trace over the students and All Might’s fallen form coldly, and Izuku feels a shiver running down his spine. “Right, I’m going to be asking the questions now. Where the hell am I--”
“Surrender, vi-- eh? They’re gone?”
Of course, the doors to the USJ burst open right at that moment, and about ten heroes pile through, with Iida in the lead. They all stop when the only unknown person they see is the bleeding, furious delinquent, slowly beginning to calm himself down.
It’s almost possible to hear their thoughts.
What the hell happened here?
“Oh hey, Demon Cyborg. Any idea where we are?”
Zombieman takes a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket as he watches his fellow hero stand uncomfortably straight. He notes that the cyborg seems just as confused as he feels himself. A click of his lighter, and he breathes in the familiar scent of the cigar, reveling in the one thing he knows.
“No, not at all. I was hoping to ask you.”
“Well, there’s a road, we might as well follow it.”
Zombieman dislikes working with others, but when there’s nothing else he knows at all, hell, he might as well group up with his coworker.
Seconds ago, he was alone, having just finished off a cigarette and thirty or so monsters in a room he’d locked himself in. Right as he finished regenerating and he stood up, he found himself in the middle of… a highway? On the other side stood Demon Cyborg, and that was that.
They walk side by side in silence, in less camaraderie than coworkers should have, but he’s completely fine with that. He only works with the guy, it’s not like the two of them would live and die together.
Hell, even if Zombieman dies, he’ll just come back to life on his own.
“Sensei?”
He’s snapped out of his thoughts at the call from the cyborg, and looks up to see a bald man in a yellow suit and red gloves, white cape behind him. Oh right, his ‘sensei.’ There’s no way this guy’s strong enough to teach an S Class, so… huh, what could he actually be? Maybe he’s, like, the mechanic? Nah, probably not. Maybe a former teacher? Huh, could be, explains the name.
“Oh, hey Genos.” The bald man is as unexpressive as ever, and Zombieman racks his brain to remember the guy’s name. Oh, right, it was Saitama, I think. I don’t even remember his hero name, but I bet it’s something stupid like Caped Baldy. What a cruel fate.
“You know where we are?”
“No, sensei, we were hoping you would.”
“Well, that sucks. What are you guys doing?”
“We’re walking down this road, sensei.”
“Sounds good, let’s go.”
Now Zombieman finds himself walking again, but with two other people, both of whom are stoically silent. Well, Demon Cyborg is, at least. Saitama’s picking his earwax or something, and looking around.
Maybe that’s a good thing, because after a few seconds, his bored voice calls out. “Hey, isn’t that a building? Wait, that’s a weird building.”
Damn, that really is a weird building. Wait, no, that’s a stadium. Wait, is it a stadium?
The huge dome in front of them can’t be anything more than some kind of structure, maybe some kind of athletic field? There’s a group of people crowded by the entrance, all in gaudy outfits. “You see those people there? It’s probably worth a try to ask them where we are--”
“Wait, is that…?” There’s a whirring sound as Demon Cyborg narrows his eyes, presumably zooming in, and a small gasp after he does so. “That’s Metal Bat, in the middle there, with… his sister?”
“... How did I not recognize that ridiculous hairstyle immediately?”
In the middle of the crowd, a little bit away from everyone else, stands a familiar figure, looking a bit more battered than usual and hefting a similarly familiar, silvery baseball bat. Clutching at his hand and looking around nervously is a slightly less familiar little girl, one that Zombieman has seen a couple times. The two S Class begin to jog over, followed closely by the B Class baldy.
“Hey, Metal Bat! Is that you?”
Class 1-A’s savior raises his head at the name, and his eyes go wide as he takes in the sight of the three newcomers, then a confused smirk worms its way on his face. “Wha-- Oi, do you know where the fuck we are?”
“No clue!”
Izuku turns to see three men slowly jogging towards them. The one that spoke has pale white skin and is dressed in a trench coat. An axe the size of his head gleams on his shoulders, and Izuku can see the holster of a gun within the coat. His red eyes are calm and welcoming now, but there’s an angry glare about them that makes him shiver. Next to him is a tall younger man, probably a teenager by the looks of him. Blond and handsome, with metal plating his arms -- or are those actually robotic arms? Whatever the case, he can hear the class girls beginning to whisper among themselves about the man.
The last man seems completely out of place; bald, a goofy face and an even more out-of-place yellow suit, complete with red gloves and boots and a white cape.
The delinquent strides forward with something akin to a relieved grin on his face, and his sister seems to recognize the newcomers as well. “Well, it’s nice to have someone I actually know here, I guess. Especially when these weirdos keep asking me questions and I don’t get to say any for myself.”
“Metal Bat, did you get into a fight?” The one with the robotic arms has a calm, measured voice, and his face is completely emotionless, which makes Izuku a little uncomfortable. “There’s blood all over your face and your clothes are ripped.”
“Ah, yeah, just fought some monster inside of there. Think it was a Demon-level. I dunno, I’ve never been good with this kinda thing, but it was going to slaughter these people.”
Demon level?
“Let’s finish our questioning first.” Aizawa’s badly wounded and has to be supported by Present Mic, and his voice is hoarse and barely audible, but it breaks through the silence that has fallen on the heroes. “You’re not going anywhere until we get the full story.”
“Fuck off and go to a hospital already, old man.”
The rebuke is slightly worried and honestly a lot more caring than it seems, but it still seems like Aizawa took a lot of damage from the last two words. Izuku doesn’t blame him; age is a sensitive subject around adults.
The delinquent doesn’t seem to know that, though, and glances around curiously at the gasps and oohs that come from the crowd around him. “What? I’m not sure how he’s even awake right now. That arm looks nasty.”
“Onii-chan, that’s mean.”
“O-oh, is it? I’m sorry.”
“Wait, Bat, weren’t you in the hospital after fighting Garou? How are you already up and running?” The man with the axe tilts his head at the newly named Metal Bat, and the teen shrugs in response.
“Death is just a flesh wound. You of all people should know that, Zombieman.”
Dang, this guy’s really cool!
“Well, you’re not wrong, but I thought that was just a me thing. Anyways, you were out pretty badly. Fighting Elder Centipede and the Hero Hunter in a single hour, I thought you’d be out for longer. Probably should be resting right now, shouldn’t you?” Izuku can hear concern in the words, but not the voice, and that makes him uneasy.
“Heroes don’t have time to stay in bed, especially when something as big as the Monster Association Raid’s going on. Speaking of which, is that what you guys were doing?”
“I was invited. These two weren’t.” The pale man - Zombieman? - shrugs, and gestures at his axe. “Just finished regenerating after getting rid of a vampire and his cronies before getting teleported.”
“I went to the Monster Association with Mr. Bang, Mr. Bomb and Ms. Fubuki. We got split up along the way, however.” The cyborg’s voice is very calm and quiet, completely different from Metal Bat’s coarse, rough words, and it just gives off a sense of calculating, of thinking. “We had originally gone with King to look for Sensei here, but by chance Zombieman and I found him not far from where we were brought.”
“Oh yeah, I just heard something really loud in the sewers beneath my house and went to investigate.” The bald man - wait, Sensei? Does that mean he’s stronger than the cyborg? - picks absentmindedly at his ear, and shrugs. “Also, these people should really get to a hospital, I can see a couple of them who look like they’re going to die from blood loss if they don’t get help.”
UA teachers and students alike are still blinking, and trying to process this new flood of information. Now that it’s mentioned, Izuku thinks that the same thought is running through all their heads.
Shit, he’s right.
Endeavor is first alerted to the commotion outside when he sees a strange, unkempt man, a cape and paper crown thrown onto him, fire a laser and destroy an entire building.
For a second, the number two hero rubs at his eyes and wonders if it’s just a dream. But no, the strange man is still there, and still firing lasers from his hands, and still floating in the middle of the sky.
On the ground, there are several strange men - are they even human? - are attacking civilians, with what looks to be a… sentient bubble of water? One looks like something out of a dentist’s office, another is the most horrifyingly ugly man he’s ever seen, there’s a huge cat standing on its hind legs and slashing out with terrifyingly long claws, a pair of strangely dressed, sword-wielding, long-haired men, and hundreds and hundreds of small men, dressed in black and with pale white faces.
It would be laughable if they hadn’t slowly been creating a bloodbath.
The number two hero rushes out the door, flares up his hands, and begins to run.
He doesn’t realize when the cat turns its eyes on him, and he doesn’t know exactly when the three massive scars lash themselves over his chest. But he does know when the pain hits, the instant that the blood bursts out of his chest and sends him stumbling to the ground.
It hurts worse than anything he’s ever felt before.
Something grabs at his arm, drapes it around their shoulders, someone else at his other arm, and they begin to run. His vision returns enough for him to see it’s a bleeding Mirko, her costume torn and ripped, her right arm badly mangled. On his other side is Best Jeanist, similarly injured and bleeding.
His eyes are just good enough to make out the massive shape that flickers into his vision.
“Look… out…”
His voice is barely loud enough to croak out a warning before the man in front of them rises to its full height. Dragons roar all across its entire body, forming its entire body, and one of them swats absentmindedly at Best Jeanist.
Endeavor doesn’t feel anything from his left side, and that concerns him. He vaguely looks over and realizes that both the other hero and his left arm are gone. All that’s left is a bloody mess, and a vague stain in the road behind them.
Mirko swears, swings him onto her back, then leaps. He can feel the air rushing as slowly, he begins to black out.
The dragon man doesn’t seem to notice or care at all.
Ever since his introduction, Hero Killer Stain has been one of the most terrifying villains in all of Japan.
Fast. Strong. Gives off an aura of fear. Unexpectable. Terrifying. Someone who has earned the greatest praise a villain can hear, that no one short of All Might would be able to defeat him. Those who saw him in action were more likely to turn their head and pretend they never saw anything, because they know that he could hunt them down without a second thought.
So naturally, when Stain saw a young man walking towards him with a determined look in his eyes, he was surprised. Couldn’t he see the body that lay at his feet? Couldn’t he tell by the sword in his hand and the crazed look in his eyes that the man he was walking towards was the Hero Killer?
“Did you bring me here?”
The question makes Stain blink, and he stands fully to his feet. Even without hunching over, he’s dwarfed by the other man, who stands a good half head taller than he does. Stain has never prided himself on his musculature but he has always been confident that he could outmuscle anyone, save All Might. Yet the boy in front of him is built powerful and slim, with a well-defined frame and a powerful body. It’s only shown off more by tight-fitting black clothes, which are partially torn around his hip.
That isn’t even the most unsettling part of his appearance.
One eye is bloodshot, and the whites of his eyes aren’t white but rather blood red. His hair as well, which sticks up in the shape of a V, is scarlet. There are signs of various scars all over his body, but all of them seem to be fading quickly.
It makes even the Hero Killer take a step back.
“Who are you?” Usually, his snarling voice is enough to chase off those brave enough to stay even after realizing his identity, but the other man doesn’t flinch. “Do you not know who I am?”
“Not a clue.” The other man tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowed as he takes in the situation. “What are you, some petty criminal trying to make off with a couple grand?”
“Petty criminal? I’m the Hero Killer, kid. Scram, I don’t feel like killing more than one person today.”
The other man blinks, and Stain waits for the realization to sink in, for him to run off screaming. But the only reaction he gets is a curling lip, and a sneer of distaste. “What, you trying to steal my title now?”
I don’t know who this kid is, but he’s getting on my nerves.
Without warning, Stain leaps at the other man, blade flashing. He’s never attacked normal civilians before, and it’s against his code of honor, but he’s certain this man is no ordinary man.
The next few seconds just prove that.
Stain’s attack should have been something no one should be able to react to. A simple jab, from less than ten feet away, in the middle of a tight and cramped alleyway. All Stain has to do is reach his hand out, and the sword would gut his opponent. No one without a superspeed Quirk would be able to react.
His sword goes farther than he expected, and he stumbles forward as something metal taps onto the ground. Was it just him, or did he see a red light?
Then pain hits the same time as the barrage of blows that smashes into his face, his chest, his arms.
The entire world seems to glow a bright blue as a tidal wave of strikes shatter his bones and draw blood. He can only collapse to the ground and spit out broken teeth when the other man decides to stop striking him.
His sword clatters to the ground, and dimly, he realizes that most of the blade is gone, sheared pieces like so many tiny buttons. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to think.
“... What a letdown. You should be glad I don’t kill humans.”
As the other man walks away, completely unscathed, Stain’s eyes manage to stay open long enough for him to see the flickering red light attached to a camera.
Then everything goes black.