Arata Yaoyorozu stared silently at the man he held suspended by the throat.
The data had appeared again.
It wasn't the first time—these fragments of code, system-like messages, glowing briefly in his mind's eye. But this time, three words made his breath hitch.
"Can be strengthened."
He narrowed his eyes, peering at the man like a scientist studying a test subject. An electric-type villain, one he had already subdued. The same thug who'd tried to ambush him in the alley behind the arena.
Arata didn't know how or why the system inside him worked. He didn't know what triggered its responses—only that it was evolving, learning with him.
But this… this was new.
"Enhancement, huh?" he murmured to himself, still holding the man with one hand. "Let's see what happens."
Without hesitation, he mentally triggered the prompt.
[Enhancement: Executing.]
Immediately, he loosened his grip—not enough to let the man escape, just enough to keep him alive. If things went sideways, he could still end it in an instant.
A voice echoed in his head.
[Data Link Established.]
His mind lit up like it had been struck by lightning.
His vision fractured, his senses exploded, and he was somewhere else—every sound muffled, every image warped. The alley was gone. Time felt like it had stopped. He wasn't standing anymore. He wasn't even sure he was in his own body.
Outside, his eyes shimmered like stars. To anyone watching, it would look like he was staring into another dimension.
The man, meanwhile, had gone into full convulsions. His body twisted, spasming as if having a seizure. His whites of his eyes rolled upward, veins bulging against his skin.
Seconds stretched like hours.
Then—
[Enhancement Failed.]
Arata blinked. He was back. The connection had snapped like a rubber band.
But something was wrong.
Every instinct screamed at him.
A ripple of danger curled through his chest, crawling across his skin like ants. The hairs on his arms stood on end.
He stepped back immediately, breathing sharp.
And then the man—no, the thing that used to be the man—lit up.
Lightning burst from his body in jagged arcs, illuminating the alley in eerie blue light. The air reeked of ozone. Concrete cracked beneath him. Sparks danced wildly across his skin.
For a second, Arata thought the enhancement had worked.
But then he saw the man's eyes—glassy and pale, glowing faintly but utterly empty.
A notification echoed in his mind:
[C-Rank Quirk: Electric Discharge. Enhancement failed. Subject has entered Runaway State.]
The man let out a distorted scream—inhuman, guttural—and bolted toward him, lightning trailing behind him in a zigzag 'Z' shape.
Arata stood still, watching him. Waiting.
But instead of striking, the man faltered. His body jerked violently mid-charge. His face twisted with pain, confusion, fear. He stumbled to the side like a wounded animal, then roared again and turned—this time sprinting the other direction, straight toward the city.
A jagged line of scorched pavement marked his path as he vanished down the road.
Arata lowered his hand.
"He's not in control," he muttered. "It fried his brain."
He exhaled slowly and turned his attention to the metal case still sitting in the alley. Dozens of banknotes were scattered across the ground, fluttering in the wind.
He didn't bother picking them up. He just took the case.
No fingerprints on cash, after all. Just the handle.
As he slipped back onto the main road, he noticed the city was already beginning to buzz.
Screams. Sirens. Bursts of light in the distance.
So the runaway had started rampaging.
"Better they find him now than later," Arata said under his breath.
He merged into the crowd without a sound, black hood drawn low, body relaxed. No one looked twice at the quiet teenager carrying a metal case. He passed a mother dragging her crying child, a salaryman fumbling with his phone, a pair of college students staring wide-eyed at smoke rising in the distance.
Then came the first explosion—loud, sharp, maybe two blocks away.
Followed by another.
The ground shook.
Arata didn't even flinch.
He walked quietly until he reached the villa's back gate, slipped inside, and shut the door behind him. The world outside continued to descend into chaos.
Inside, he dropped the case by the couch, stripped off the black robe, and went straight to the bathroom.
The cold water washed the blood off his hands.
Minutes later, towel around his shoulders, Arata sat cross-legged on the floor, TV remote in hand. He flipped to the news channel, waiting for the broadcast to catch up.
It didn't take long.
"This just in: reports of a violent Quirk user rampaging through 415th Street—now confirmed to be the so-called 'Thunder Gangster.'"
"Witnesses say the villain was covered in lightning and screaming incoherently."
"Professional Hero Mountain Giant is on the scene. Turbo Pilot is reportedly en route."
A drone feed popped up. The camera hovered above a ruined intersection. Three buildings had been reduced to smoking rubble. Electricity flickered through the cracks in the road like veins of magma.
In the center of it all stood the runaway—still twitching, still sparking, eyes glazed over.
He looked less like a man and more like a machine about to explode.
"Thunder Gangster subdued after seventeen minutes of high-level confrontation. Authorities confirm extensive property damage but no civilian fatalities…"
Arata leaned back and folded his arms.
It hadn't even lasted twenty minutes.
"Not bad," he muttered, half-impressed. "He held off two pros."
For a failed enhancement, that kind of firepower was something worth noting. Dangerous, yes. Unpredictable, absolutely. But useful?
Very.
What if he could control it next time?
What if a successful enhancement pushed a Quirk user past their natural limits—without burning their brain out?
What if he could turn C-Rank Quirks into A-Rank threats?
The thought curled like smoke in his mind.
He'd already seen that his Quirk—"Super Heal"—responded to intent and precision. He'd recently discovered it could affect others. And now, the system was offering enhancements?
If this was truly part of the chip in his brain—the S-Class AI his father had never spoken about, the system embedded in his cells—then he'd only just begun to tap into its potential.
Still, the warning signs from today echoed in his chest.
That surge of instinct, that moment his body screamed danger—it wasn't something he could afford to ignore.
He needed more control. More testing.
And preferably, less risk.
But more importantly, Arata realized he was close—so close—to unlocking something entirely new.
An edge no Hero could predict.
He sat there as the TV showed loops of lightning tearing through buildings, and professional Heroes dragging civilians to safety.
He watched, and thought, and waited.
Because next time, he wouldn't just trigger the enhancement and hope for the best.
Next time, he'd plan for the failure.
And he'd make sure he was the one holding the leash when the lightning started flying again.