The city was choked with black smoke, the surroundings reduced to rubble. Atop a ruined high-rise somewhere, a white beam of light descended from the sky. When the light dispersed, a boy lay there. He looked fifteen or sixteen years old, with fair skin and a handsome face.
The boy slowly opened his eyes. Black smoke drifted across the sky like heavy clouds. He sat up at once and checked his body, only to find nothing wrong with him at all. No pain, no injuries. Then why was he here? He should have been at a cosplay event, hanging out at a convention with friends.
The boy's name was Aoyama Akira. His parents had chosen the name with hope in their hearts—hoping that one day, he would grow up to become a hero.
"What… is going on?" Akira walked to the edge of the building. The streets below and the buildings around him were almost completely destroyed. The sound of crying echoed through the area, filling the air, turning the scene into something straight out of hell.
It wasn't just this district. Everywhere he looked was the same. Explosions flared up in the distance, violent and chaotic, yet it didn't look like a war between nations.
Akira felt a chill run through him. Everything felt unreal, like a dream he couldn't wake up from. Why was he here? What exactly had happened to the world?
"The world you're seeing now… is five years in the future."
Akira spun around sharply.
An old man with white hair and a long white beard stood behind him, as if he had been there the entire time. Akira instinctively stepped back several paces, staring at him warily. "Who are you?"
The old man turned his head. His expression was gentle, his face kind—so much so that he reminded Akira of his own grandfather.
"Don't worry about who I am," the old man said calmly. "I'm here to give you something."
"Give me something?" Akira frowned. Strangely enough, when he looked at the old man, he felt no sense of danger or hostility at all—only a faint sense of familiarity, as if the man were family.
"Take it," the old man continued. "Use its power to survive. Work hard, grow stronger, and when the time comes, fight the other three people like you. Remember—each of you stands in a different camp. Stay vigilant at all times."
The old man raised his hand. A sphere of golden light flew out, drifting gently before landing in Akira's palm.
The golden light sank into his right hand. A faint pattern of golden dots appeared on his palm, while a circular golden mark formed on the back of his hand.
"What is this…?" Akira stared in shock, turning his hand over again and again. This was far beyond anything he had imagined—almost unreal in how mystical it felt.
The white-haired old man only smiled. In the next instant, his body broke apart into a point of white light and vanished into the air.
"Wait! You haven't told me what this is for!" Akira reached out instinctively, trying to grab the fading light, but there was nothing left.
"Boom!"
A violent explosion erupted nearby. Akira snapped his head toward the sound. On a street not far from the building, flames surged skyward. From within the fire, a figure emerged.
The man was tall, draped in a black cloak. Beneath his short hair were eyes as sharp as an eagle's.
Those eyes locked onto Akira.
In that instant, Akira's entire body stiffened. It felt as though nothing about him was hidden—that every secret he had was laid bare under that gaze.
Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.
That was Akira's first and only thought. He had the overwhelming feeling that he could be killed at any moment.
Just then, another figure appeared from the opposite end of the street.
It was a woman with long white hair cascading down her back, her pupils a pale silver-white. She wore a tight jumpsuit patterned with white and gray stripes and walked forward at an unhurried pace.
The only thing she radiated was coldness. Beneath that icy, distant presence was a flawless face—beautiful and untouchable, like an iceberg goddess.
Akira swallowed hard, then suddenly realized something else.
There was another man standing on a building directly across from him.
This man was about 175 centimeters tall, a few centimeters taller than Akira himself. He had blue hair parted neatly down the middle and wore casual blue clothing. He didn't move, only watching Akira in silence.
Just as Akira sensed that something was about to happen, the two men and the woman all turned their attention fully toward him at the same time.
The corners of their mouths curled upward.
Each of them was smiling—but the smiles were loaded with meaning.
"Shua—!"
In the next instant, the world around Akira began to reverse.
The smoke-filled sky faded back into clear blue. Ruined buildings repaired themselves piece by piece. Streets restored themselves as though time itself were flowing backward.
The two men and the woman vanished, and the surrounding scene raced in reverse, like a film being rewound at high speed.
Akira had no idea how long it lasted. It felt as though he had lived through an entire century.
When time finally stopped, a sharp pain flared in Akira's head. Streams of information poured into his mind. In an instant, everything he had once been ignorant of became clear.
He understood.
He had crossed worlds.
He had entered the world of My Hero Academia.
This was a society built around Quirks—a world where extraordinary abilities were commonplace. Most people manifested their Quirks before the age of four. Those who failed to awaken by then were usually considered Quirkless, or possessed Quirks so subtle they were practically useless.
Akira also understood the scene he had witnessed earlier.
That devastated city was Japan—five years in the future—when the Dark Age would fully descend.
The two men and one woman were just like him: people who had crossed into this world. Their current strength was no different from his own. All of them were beginners.
With a single thought, Akira activated his power.
Energy gathered in the palm of his right hand. The faint golden dot pattern glowed softly. In the next moment, an indescribable power spread throughout his body.
This golden light was Akira's Quirk.
Its name was Holy Light.
At present, Holy Light was only in its most basic, embryonic form. As Akira grew stronger, the Quirk would evolve from within—manifesting shields, protective gear, and even weapons formed entirely of energy.
Holy Light.
As its name implied, it was the power of a saint.
The golden circle on the back of his hand functioned like an information interface. It contained his personal data, which he could access at will.
[Aoyama Akira: Age 15, Birthday 08/01, Height 172 cm, Weight 50 kg]
[Quirk: Holy Light (Power of the Saint), EXP LV1 (0/100)]
[Holy Light: LV1–LV10. With each level increase, Holy Light's energy output doubles, unlocking materialized energy weapons, protective gear, and shields.]
[Current combat capability: capable of breaking through walls.]
The system was… convenient. Through it, Akira could clearly understand his current condition. As for any other functions the golden circle might possess, he had no way of knowing yet. For now, it only displayed his personal information.
In short, he had arrived in this world and obtained the Quirk known as Holy Light.
And he also understood his mission.
When the darkest age arrived, he would have to fight—contributing his own strength to the future of this world.
At the same time, he would need to remain on guard against the other three travelers.