Unbeknownst to Katsuki, as he rocketed towards the Sunken City of Eldoria, the sturdy work clothes Mirajane had provided him with earlier were more than just practical attire. Woven discreetly into the seams, almost invisible to the naked eye and certainly undetectable by someone unfamiliar with Fiore's more subtle magical technologies, were a series of miniature, whisper-thin Communication Lacrima. These weren't for two-way comms, not in the traditional sense. They were passive scrying lacrima, linked to a master crystal Mirajane kept discreetly at the bar, allowing her to, if she so chose, get brief, almost impressionistic glimpses of the wearer's surroundings and, more pertinently for her mischievous sense of humor, their general emotional state and any… particularly noteworthy pronouncements.
She hadn't activated them during his more destructive rampages – the sheer chaotic energy would likely overwhelm such delicate enchantments. But during moments of relative calm, or intense emotional outbursts like his triumphant declaration of his hero name on the lonely Gargoyle Peaks, a brief, flickering connection could sometimes be established. It was a little trick she'd learned, a way to keep a subtle, almost maternal (or perhaps, more accurately, a slightly demonic, amused older sisterly) eye on the more volatile or vulnerable members of her guild family, especially newcomers who were still finding their footing. She'd never use the information maliciously, of course. Mostly, it was for her own amusement, and occasionally, for gathering insights that might help guide or protect them, as she had with her report to Makarov about Katsuki's initial pain. The 'Dynamight' revelation had simply been too good, too characteristic, not to gently tease him with. It was a secret she'd keep, even from the other guild members; some things were best enjoyed privately.
The journey to the Sunken City of Eldoria was swift and silent. Katsuki, having fully embraced the efficiency of his 'Explode: Frictionless' travel method fueled by his Quirk, cut through the night sky like a phantom. The land below was a dark, sleeping tapestry, the moon a cold silver disc overhead. He conserved his magical energy, relying solely on the refined, controlled micro-explosions of his sweat, a testament to his growing mastery over even the most fundamental aspects of his power.
It was still the same day – or rather, the same long, incredibly eventful night that had begun with him waking in the infirmary. The thought made him scowl. One day in this world felt like a week in his old one, packed with near-death experiences, power-ups, and an endless stream of irritatingly resilient monsters and even more irritatingly persistent guildmates. But the thought of sleep was anathema when there was a dark guild to dismantle. His Quirk felt strong, eager. Tomorrow, he'd reintegrate his 'Explode' magic, perhaps even cautiously test the limits of his Incinerate abilities again, but for this last mission of the current cycle, it would be pure, unadulterated Bakugo Katsuki Quirk power. Dynamight style.
He arrived at the coordinates indicated on the request parchment. The Sunken City of Eldoria was an eerie, desolate place. Once, perhaps centuries ago, it might have been a grand port, but now, it was a ruin half-swallowed by the dark, churning waters of a vast, stagnant marsh. Crumbling stone towers, their tops barely breaking the surface, jutted from the murky depths like a mouthful of broken teeth. A network of rickety wooden walkways and partially submerged stone paths connected the few remaining accessible structures. The air was thick with the smell of decay, salt, and stagnant water. A perfect hideout for scumbags.
Katsuki scanned the scene from a high, silent hover, his crimson eyes piercing the gloom. He could see faint lights flickering in the windows of what looked like a dilapidated, partially collapsed temple on a small island in the center of the ruins – the most likely headquarters for the 'Iron Vulture' syndicate.
"Alright, you bottom-feeding shitheels," Katsuki muttered, a predatory grin stretching his lips. "The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight is here to deliver your eviction notice. By extreme prejudice."
He didn't bother with a subtle approach. Stealth was for a different kind of mission. This was an annihilation. He descended, not silently this time, but with a series of sharp, concussive Quirk-blasts from his feet that sent tremors through the rickety walkways and disturbed the dark waters below. He landed with a solid thud on the main causeway leading towards the temple island, the impact echoing across the desolate ruins.
"Oi! Iron Vultures!" he roared, his voice a clarion call of impending doom, amplified by a controlled burst of explosive energy from his throat. "Playtime's over! Come out and meet your goddamn exterminator!"
Lights flared up in the temple. Shouts and curses could be heard. Figures began to emerge, armed and looking distinctly unamused by the rude awakening. They were a motley crew, clad in dark, mismatched armor, their faces hard and cruel. The Iron Vultures.
Katsuki just cracked his knuckles, the familiar heat already building in his palms. His Quirk was primed, ready. This was going to be a target-rich environment. And he was going to enjoy every last, satisfying explosion.
---
The Iron Vulture syndicate, a collection of hardened cutthroats and disgraced mages, were not accustomed to being challenged so brazenly, especially not in their own fetid den. They emerged from the dilapidated temple like angry hornets, brandishing rusted swords, crackling with poorly controlled elemental magic, and spewing a torrent of threats and curses. There were dozens of them, a veritable swarm of low-life thuggery.
Katsuki met their charge with a sneer of utter contempt. "That all you got, you second-rate extras?"
He decided to open with a demonstration of his evolving arsenal, a fusion of his newly refined Quirk control and a technique usually reserved for his 'Explode' magic. He activated his 'Explode: Frictionless Mode,' the sheath of micro-explosions shimmering around him, then channeled his Quirk into his palms, not for single shots, but for a sustained, rapid-fire barrage.
"Explode: Frictionless AP Shot: Machine Gun!" he bellowed, the name an instinctive, brutal combination.
The effect was horrifyingly efficient. Instead of the azure magical beams, a continuous hail of near-invisible, Quirk-fueled kinetic projectiles erupted from his hands. Each shot, wrapped in its own frictionless aura, possessed the same terrifying speed and penetration as his earlier single Frictionless AP Shots, but now they came in a relentless, unending stream. The air filled with a series of sharp, hissing cracks, like a thousand invisible whips lashing out simultaneously.
The front ranks of the charging Iron Vultures simply disintegrated. There were no fiery explosions, no screams of agony, just a series of sickening thuds and crunches as the frictionless projectiles punched clean through bodies, armor, and crude magical shields alike. Mages who were in the midst of casting spells suddenly found themselves with fist-sized holes through their chests, their incantations dying on their lips. Swordsmen charging forward were literally shredded mid-stride, their momentum carrying their mangled corpses a few steps further before they collapsed in heaps.
Annihilation was indeed Katsuki's middle name tonight. The sheer, silent lethality of the attack was more terrifying than any fiery inferno. The Iron Vultures, who had expected a brawl, perhaps a few flashy spells, found themselves facing an unseen, unstoppable force that was erasing them from existence. Panic erupted in their ranks. They tried to scatter, to find cover amidst the crumbling ruins, but Katsuki, moving with the same frictionless grace, was a whirlwind of death, his AP Shot: Machine Gun cutting them down with chilling precision.
A few of the more desperate, or perhaps braver, syndicate members managed to get close, attempting to overwhelm him with sheer numbers in the narrow confines of the walkways. Katsuki met them with a savage grin, his Quirk flaring with raw, concussive power.
One particularly large brute, wielding a massive, rust-pitted axe, managed to swing it wildly in Katsuki's direction. Katsuki sidestepped, grabbed the Vulture's outstretched arm, and with a guttural roar of "Point-Blank Howitzer Impact!", unleashed a devastating, internally focused explosion against the man's torso. The Vulture's eyes bulged, a choked gasp escaping him as his armor crumpled and his insides were turned to pulp. Katsuki tossed the lifeless body into the murky water with a contemptuous splash.
He moved through the remaining syndicate members like a vengeful spirit, a blur of motion and precisely targeted destruction. His Frictionless AP Shot: Machine Gun cleared paths through their ranks, and any who got too close were met with the brutal, up-close devastation of his Quirk-powered Howitzer Impacts or the savage, explosive kicks of his Cluster Style. He wasn't just defeating them; he was systematically dismantling them, leaving no room for escape, no possibility of regrouping.
The battle, if it could even be called that, was surprisingly short. The Iron Vulture syndicate, for all their bluster and numbers, were simply no match for the focused, overwhelming destructive power of Katsuki Bakugo operating at peak Quirk efficiency.
When the last Iron Vulture had fallen, his body riddled with frictionless holes or pulped by a point-blank blast, Katsuki stood amidst the silence, his breathing only slightly labored. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, blood, and the stagnant stench of the marsh. The rickety walkways were littered with the remains of the dark guild.
He looked towards their headquarters, the dilapidated temple on the small island. Any remaining members would be cowering inside. He wasn't done yet. Annihilation meant annihilation.
He didn't bother with the narrow causeway. He launched himself into the air with a powerful Quirk-blast, landing directly in the temple's crumbling courtyard. A few terrified stragglers tried to mount a pathetic defense, but he dispatched them with contemptuous ease.
Then, he turned his attention to the temple itself. It was a symbol of their rottenness, their hideout. It had to go.
He didn't use an Oppenheimer Smash; that was overkill and too draining. Instead, he began a systematic demolition, using a series of powerful, strategically placed Howitzer Impacts and concentrated blasts from his Quirk. Stone walls buckled and collapsed. Ancient pillars shattered. The roof caved in with a deafening groan. He moved through the structure, ensuring every support, every chamber, was reduced to rubble.
When he was finished, there was no temple left. There was no Iron Vulture syndicate left. There were no ruins of a dark guild hideout. There was only a flattened, smoking island in the center of the Sunken City of Eldoria, a testament to the absolute, uncompromising destructive will of the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. The mission had specified 'annihilation,' and Katsuki had delivered, with brutal, terrifying efficiency.
He stood on the edge of the devastation, the first pale light of dawn beginning to touch the eastern sky. It had been a long, incredibly violent night. He felt a grim satisfaction, the clean, sharp burn of a job thoroughly, unequivocally done. He didn't even bother looking for a specific 'proof of subjugation' this time. The utter obliteration of the entire area was proof enough.
With a final, cursory glance at the smoking remains of Eldoria, Katsuki turned. It was time to head back to Fairy Tail, collect his due, and perhaps, just perhaps, allow himself a few hours of actual, uninterrupted sleep before the next cycle of chaos and destruction began. His Quirk felt good, honed, and devastatingly effective. And the thought of the fortune he was slowly amassing for his new armor brought a flicker of predatory anticipation to his crimson eyes.