"H-Hey… isn't that a bit ridiculous? Spike went down in a single move!"
The muscular man stared in disbelief. Spike's Quirk was undeniably powerful—among the League of Villains, his strength was considered top-tier. At the very least, the muscular man believed Spike was on the same level as himself. His original plan had been to stall Spike for a short while and then escape, but before he could even take a single step, Spike had already been smashed into the ground like pulp.
Todoroki was just as stunned. While freezing the remaining magma clinging to Spike's unconscious body, his gaze lingered on Masata.
"I didn't expect the enemy who forced me into pure defense… to be defeated instantly by that magma giant. Is that a new move of his?"
He had seen it from afar during training, but witnessing it up close was a completely different experience.
Standing before that nearly twenty-meter-tall Flame Suzaku, Todoroki felt overwhelmingly small—as if Masata could erase him with a casual flick of a toe. That was power on a completely different level.
Bakugo clenched his fists tightly.
A deep sense of powerlessness crept into his chest.
He had always been confident in his own talent. More than most, he could clearly perceive the gap between himself and others—and this gap wasn't something that could be bridged by hard work alone.
In this Quirk-based society, innate talent dictated one's ceiling.
Masata noticed the complex expressions on their faces but said nothing. No amount of words would ease those feelings right now. This was something only time could dull.
"Then," Masata said calmly, his gaze locking onto the last remaining enemy, "you're next."
Like a predator fixing its eyes on wounded prey, Masata stared straight at the muscular man. This time, there would be no carelessness—and no reinforcements.
"Tch."
The muscular man felt like a lamb awaiting slaughter. Muscle fibers burst outward again, rapidly expanding his body until his size nearly doubled, as if sheer mass could offer him some sense of security.
"Don't think you can kill me that easily, brat!!!"
He roared with ferocity, but there was no cold sweat on his face—only a stiff, almost comical stubbornness that betrayed his fear.
"Oh?" Masata replied, cracking his knuckles slowly, magma glowing beneath his skin. "So you think you still have a chance?"
"If you don't go all out, you'll die!!!"
"Heaven Dog."
Masata exploded forward.
The maximum acceleration his body could produce erupted beneath his feet. In an instant, his figure vanished, leaving behind only a spiraling vortex of dust.
The muscular man's vision blurred. In the next blink, Masata was already standing directly in front of him.
Despite the massive difference in size, the muscular man felt his heart tremble.
Masata wasn't bulky. His muscles were dense and streamlined, flowing smoothly beneath his skin. That symmetrical frame concealed terrifying explosive power—power that had been deliberately restrained until now.
"Damn it—don't look down on me!!!"
Interpreting the calm in Masata's eyes as contempt, rage ignited in the muscular man's mind. Muscle fibers lashed out like writhing tentacles, surging forward in an attempt to entangle Masata completely.
"It's useless."
Masata snorted.
In an instant, magma surged outward, forming a blazing cloak around his body. The muscle fibers disintegrated the moment they touched the intense heat, unable to even approach him.
Despair sank deep into the muscular man's heart.
He knew it.
There was no way to defeat this monster.
Yet cornered beasts fought hardest.
His eyes sharpened, and he made a desperate decision—abandoning defense entirely. All remaining muscle fibers condensed violently into his single remaining arm.
The arm swelled grotesquely, far exceeding the size of his own torso. The sheer weight distorted his posture, veins bulging as the massive limb trembled.
"DIE, YOU LITTLE BRAT!!!"
The arm came crashing down.
Masata watched calmly, disdain flickering in his eyes.
He could have dodged. Elementalization would make that effortless. But he didn't move.
The muscular man had abandoned reason. At this point, he was nothing more than a rabid beast—unworthy of tactical consideration.
Instead of retreating, Masata intensified the glow on his own arm. The magma flared brighter, signaling his intent to end this with absolute force.
Under the tense gazes of everyone present, the two wildly unequal arms collided.
There was no explosive shockwave.
No thunderous impact.
It was like a red-hot soldering iron pressed into butter.
The oversized arm was instantly scorched, crumbling into ash mid-motion.
"BOOM!"
Before the muscular man could even process what happened, Masata drove his blazing fist straight into his abdomen.
The searing heat pierced flesh instantly. Molten lava surged forward, devouring his vitality without mercy.
Moments later, the muscular man's head lolled to the side. Strength drained from his body, and he slumped lifelessly against Masata's arm.
Masata withdrew his fist and turned around.
"Where's Bakugo?!"
Tokoyami's sudden shout shattered the calm.
Masata froze, then spun around. Bakugo—who had been standing at the edge of the clearing just moments ago—was gone.
"What happened?"
Masata frowned deeply as he scanned the surroundings. He was certain Bakugo had been there after Spike fell. A person couldn't simply vanish in the blink of an eye.
Todoroki was equally unsettled.
He had heard Bakugo's voice just seconds earlier. There were no visible villains nearby.
Which meant only one possibility—
Someone was hiding in the shadows.