"Hmm… trying to stall for time?"
A hoarse voice crawled out of the Hero Killer's throat. It was a sensible tactic—most people would try the same thing when pushed into a corner like this.
"That still depends on whether you can survive until backup arrives."
The Hero Killer moved.
His body suddenly clung to the wall, completely ignoring gravity as he shot straight toward Todoroki.
"Tch—suction adhesion?"
The fused traits were obvious now: the dark ink-like fluid, the tentacles sprouting from his body, the suction pads lining them. There was no mistaking it.
Octopus genes.
A violent pillar of flame erupted from Todoroki's left side, blasting upward—but the Hero Killer twisted sideways at the last instant, narrowly evading the attack without losing momentum.
A sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
A small blade, connected to an almost invisible wire, shot out from the shadows and pierced straight into Todoroki's arm.
"What—?!"
Todoroki froze in shock. He hadn't sensed the attack at all.
The Hero Killer's assassination techniques were frighteningly precise.
"Goodbye."
Smiling coldly, the Hero Killer tugged the wire, pulling the blade back into his hand. He slowly dragged his tongue across the blood-stained edge, the paralytic toxin glistening faintly.
In the next instant, Todoroki's body locked up completely.
He couldn't move.
Only three seconds had passed since the Hero Killer launched his charge.
"Next… it's your turn."
After disabling Todoroki, the Hero Killer turned his murderous gaze toward Igarashi Masata.
"His speed, regeneration, and attack frequency have all increased," Masata thought grimly.
Before Masata could act, his partner had already been taken out.
The two stared at each other in silence.
Suddenly, the Hero Killer sprayed a jet of black ink straight toward Masata's face.
"Don't spray that disgusting stuff everywhere."
A surge of magma burst from Masata's hand, forming a blazing barrier. The ink evaporated instantly upon contact, hissing into steam.
"Blocking your own vision against an agile opponent?"
"Are you tired of living?"
The Hero Killer's triumphant voice came from above.
Masata's pupils shrank.
The Hero Killer was directly overhead—using the exact same tactic Midoriya had used earlier.
"Die!"
Seeing the brief flash of shock in Masata's eyes, the Hero Killer roared in sick excitement.
The blade came down.
It sliced cleanly through Masata's body.
Blood sprayed across the alley.
Masata's torso was split from shoulder to waist, his expression frozen in place.
"You are not a real hero!" the Hero Killer shouted hysterically.
"The only one worthy of that title is All Might!"
Certain that everyone was finished, he turned away, preparing to end the others.
"So… what are you, some kind of European chef?"
"Or just a lunatic?"
A mocking voice sounded from behind him.
The Hero Killer stiffened.
He turned sharply—and his eyes widened.
Masata stood there, smiling.
His body was still split open from shoulder to waist, molten-red fluid pouring out—yet he looked perfectly relaxed.
"Didn't anyone ever teach you?" Masata said calmly.
"You should always check your weapon after cutting someone."
The Hero Killer looked down.
The blade in his hand—once sharp enough to cut steel—was now warped, pitted, and blackened, coated in melted residue.
"Your body… can turn into magma?!"
By now, even an idiot would understand—and the Hero Killer was no idiot.
Combined with Masata's unnatural wound, the truth was obvious.
"I never said it couldn't."
Magma surged through the split flesh. The two halves of Masata's body flowed together seamlessly, restoring him completely.
No scar remained.
Only his shredded clothes proved he had been cut at all.
"That's a disgusting Quirk."
The Hero Killer tossed the ruined blade aside and drew a dagger from his thigh. He spun it once in his hand and reversed his grip.
Another sharp whistle split the air.
Another hidden blade flew.
"You're still relying on that?"
Prepared this time, Masata flicked his wrist. A thick mass of magma split off from his hand, intercepting the weapon and melting it midair before swallowing it completely.
"I don't believe your entire body can turn into magma!"
The Hero Killer wasn't counting on the hidden weapon to win. It was only a distraction.
Using it as cover, he rushed straight at Masata, unleashing a storm of slashes.
"Fine."
Masata didn't dodge.
Blades tore through him.
His upper body was shredded in an instant, bursting apart under the whirlwind of steel.
Only his lower half remained standing.
"This time, you won't recover so easily!"
Even for the Hero Killer, this level of output was exhausting. He excelled at swift assassinations, not prolonged combat.
But after only a few breaths—
Magma surged upward from Masata's waist.
In seconds, his upper body reformed completely.
Behind him, six more blades clattered to the ground—ruined beyond repair. What had once been fine weapons now looked like charred scrap.
"Could you try not going so hard?" Masata sighed.
"This is actually pretty inconvenient."
This time, Masata attacked.
Magma wrapped tightly around his fist as he drove it straight into the Hero Killer's chest.
At point-blank range, there was no room to escape.
Heat slammed into the Hero Killer's face. In desperation, he curled all four tentacles in front of him, trying to absorb the impact.
A violent hiss filled the air.
The tentacles began to steam immediately.
Their slick mucus was useless against lava. The flesh dried out and shriveled rapidly.
The punch landed.
The Hero Killer was sent flying, crashing into a trash bin at the end of the alley with a deafening impact.
Masata walked forward slowly, looking down at the writhing figure as his tentacles continued to dry and crack.
"You can't even get my blood," Masata said evenly.
"So tell me—how exactly were you planning to defeat me?"