Author's Note:
Hi everyone. I know it's been a few weeks since I posted a chapter, but work has me pretty tied up. Since it's far away, I usually get home late even if I leave on time, and on Sundays—my only day off—all I wanted to do was rest and disconnect from everything.
Still, I don't plan on abandoning this story. At first, I saw it as something I could maybe monetize, but over time, it's become more of a hobby that I really enjoy.
Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
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A bead of sweat slid down my cheek, but I forced myself to pull it together. I couldn't afford to freeze up now. I'd spent too much time imagining situations like this, running through what to do if things ever got desperate.
While Momo and Jirou stayed frozen by the sight in front of us, I slid my fingers to the side of my visor and pressed a hidden button.
A metallic hum answered from behind me.
From the metal pack on my back, sixteen more drones emerged, unfolding with a brief, insect-like buzz. The first four I'd deployed earlier were mostly just for scanning the terrain.
I sat down on the ground, crossing my legs with a forced calm, and pulled out the control tablet from the pack. Sure, I could manage everything through the visor… but for what I was about to attempt, I needed to set up the illusion program directly.
I'd spent sleepless nights fine-tuning that software.
The screen lit up, showing a 3D model of the USJ. It wasn't detailed—the time had been too short to polish it—but it was enough to give me a functional map where I could position each drone and assemble the illusion.
I took a deep breath, focusing on the display. I had spent weeks refining these holographic projections, but Quentin Beck—Mysterio—didn't just make his illusions look real; he prepared for every possible counterattack. In the movies, with a whole team backing him, he could coordinate the stage and sync it with real-time projections. In the comics, on the other hand, he seemed to improvise, weaving mirages on the spot as if the world itself were his stage.
I didn't have that luxury. No team of engineers. No endless prep time. My tech was closer to the movie version of Mysterio: pre-built illusions, ready to launch when the situation called for it. But I still couldn't alter the environment itself; my technology wasn't there yet.
Dots lit up one after another on the map: the drones were taking their positions.
Then, an alert flashed at the corner of the tablet. One of the four scouting drones was transmitting a live feed near the main entrance.
The camera showed Iida sprinting desperately toward the massive sealed doors of the USJ. A dark mist was chasing him with deadly precision. Kurogiri.
Uraraka, Sero, and Sato were doing their best to hold him off, throwing out attacks to keep his focus away. But it wasn't enough. Kurogiri wasn't distracted; all of his attention was fixed on Iida, on stopping him from reaching those doors.
I frowned. I couldn't be sure if Hatsume had heard me earlier, which made Iida our only chance. If he failed to escape, if he didn't call for help outside, reinforcements would never arrive.
I couldn't let him get caught.
"Tssk…" I clicked my tongue, switching the view to the drones closest to the entrance. Five icons flashed near the fight.
I dragged my fingers across the screen, marking a fast trajectory. Five drones that had been patrolling in the background responded instantly, heading straight for the entrance sector.
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Iida's breathing pounded like a drum in his chest, each inhale short and sharp, each exhale a desperate hiss. His legs burned, but he couldn't stop; he couldn't afford even a single misstep. The exit was right ahead, so close and yet so far.
Kurogiri followed him like an inevitable shadow. His body blurred into dark mist, gliding forward without haste, confident that Iida's fate was already sealed.
Uraraka clenched her teeth and lifted a chunk of rubble with her Quirk. She hurled it with all her strength at the black cloud. The block shot forward, but Kurogiri didn't move. His form dissolved into smoke, and the rock passed straight through the haze, crashing against the wall with a dull thud.
"It's not working!" she cried, her voice cracking with fear.
Sero reacted instantly. He fired a tape from his elbow, trying to catch the villain and give Iida just a few more seconds. But the mist split open like a rift, swallowing the tape. It vanished into the void of the portal, severed as if it had never existed.
Sato roared in fury. His face flushed, he threw a punch strong enough to pulverize concrete. But his fists only met nothingness, sinking into the fog without leaving a trace.
It was useless. All that effort, all that desperation, only bought them fleeting seconds. The exit was just a few meters away from Iida… but Kurogiri was already upon him, the edges of the mist licking at his heels.
And then, suddenly, a wall of ice erupted between Kurogiri and Iida.
It appeared out of nowhere with a faint flash of light, as if it had been waiting for that exact moment to rise. It looked so real that its arrival seemed to echo in everyone's ears.
Iida, startled, nearly stumbled over his own feet, but he didn't stop running. His instincts screamed at him to seize even the smallest chance, and that's exactly what the barrier represented.
Kurogiri paused. Just a second, barely a blink of hesitation at that impossible wall. But in battle, a single second could mean everything.
"Now!" Uraraka shouted, seizing the opening.
With a quick, precise leap, she reached out toward the only solid part of the villain: the metal plate that formed his neck. Her fingers brushed the cold steel… and she touched it. Gravity shattered around Kurogiri, and his misty body turned weightless, floating against his will.
"I've got him!" she cried, her pulse racing.
Sero wasted no time. From his elbow, a strip of tape shot out, spiraling fast around the metal plate. The villain tried to open a portal to break free, but losing control of his own weight slowed him down.
"Hold him!" Sero roared.
Sato didn't hesitate. He grabbed the tape with both hands, straining his muscles as he yanked with brute force. Kurogiri's mist swirled violently, his form warping, unable to stabilize his portals under such raw strength.
"Yaaaah!" Sato bellowed, spinning like a hammer thrower, swinging the weightless villain in wider and wider circles.
The dark fog twisted, Kurogiri's shape distorting as he struggled. But Sato didn't let up. With a final roar, he completed the spin and released the tape.
The villain's ethereal body shot off, flung like a projectile into the void of the arena.
It was only a temporary victory, but it was enough.
Iida didn't need to look back. His heart pounded against his ribs as he crossed the final stretch to the doors.
He slammed into them with his whole body. His trembling hands searched the metal grooves, shoving with every ounce of strength left in him. The structure groaned, rusty, but shifted just enough to open a narrow gap.
A thin draft of fresh air slipped through the crack, brushing his face like a whisper of hope. With one last push, Iida squeezed through the opening, gasping, and stumbled outside.
He had escaped.
Inside, only seconds after the villain vanished from sight, Uraraka and the others exhaled a collective sigh of relief.
Sero dropped to one knee, panting.
"That was way too close…" he said, his voice still trembling from the tension.
Sato nodded, his chest still heaving from the effort. "If it hadn't been for that ice wall at the last second…"
He instinctively turned his head toward the side, expecting to see Todoroki there, ready to thank him.
"Thanks for the save, Todoro—"
He stopped mid-sentence. No one was there. The boy with the two-tone hair wasn't in that sector; he had never arrived.
The silence that followed felt strange, almost unsettling.
Uraraka, still breathing hard, frowned. She lifted her gaze toward the supposed barrier that had saved them… and in that very instant, the wall of "ice" flickered and dissolved into the air like a mirage, vanishing in an instant.
A hollow emptiness surrounded them.
"What…?" muttered Sero, his mouth hanging open.
Without them realizing, five small drones were hovering just above their heads. They had stayed completely still, hidden within the dust and confusion, projecting the illusion that had protected them. Now, with their task complete, they drifted away quietly into the shadows.
Their propellers made only the faintest hum, masked by the distant echo of rubble still collapsing across the USJ. Like a disciplined swarm, the drones regrouped into formation and flew toward the heart of the disaster.
There, where the smoke was thickest and the ground shook with every impact, Aizawa was still trapped beneath the crushing weight of the Nomu.