Sorry had to lock in... my finals were going on😅😅😅 Anyway enjoy the chapter...
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The stadium rooftop was not build for combat.
It was a flat roof of reinforced concrete and metal plating, dotted with ventilation units, satellite dishes, and the mounting brackets for the arena's lighting rigs. It was meant for maintenance crews and weather equipment, not for a swordswoman fighting a bioengineered killing machine at midnight speed.
But Mei had never cared much for what things were designed for.
She stood on the rooftop, claymore resting on her shoulder, watching the Nomu pull itself over the edge. The wound she had carved from its collarbone to its ribcage was already sealed.
That was fast.
She had noticed that immediately. Not the lumbering, brute-force type of Nomu that Akira had told her about. This one was different. Leaner. Built for speed. Its legs were disproportionately long, coiled with dense muscle that screamed explosive acceleration. Its fingers were weird too — longer than a human's.
And it was not skin... it was metal. Blade fingers. The tips were metallic, sharp enough to cut through concrete.
From what Mei could see, this Nomu had three quirks: super speed, blade fingers, and regeneration.
Mei smiled.
"Alright," she said. "Show me what you've got."
The Nomu, not needing to be told twice, moved.
It crossed fifteen metres in the time it took to blink. One moment, it was at the edge of the rooftop. The next one was in front of Mei, all ten blade-fingers driving toward her chest.
Ten simultaneous killing strikes, delivered at a speed that would have turned most pro heroes into a pincushion.
But this was Mei we are talking about... and she simply parried.
Her claymore swept upward from her shoulder in a diagonal arc, the black blade meeting all ten fingers at once. Steel scraped against the pink-veined metal with a shriek that echoed across the rooftop. The Nomu's fingers deflected outward.
On the other hand, Mei was already rotating, using the momentum of the parry to bring the claymore around for a horizontal counter.
The Nomu ducked. Its speed was terrifying — head dropping below the blade by centimetres, body folding at an angle that shouldn't have been possible for something with a spine. It came back up swinging, both hands slashing in alternating patterns.
Mei stepped back, just enough. The low sweep passed her shins by a hair. She tilted her head, and the blades passed her cheek, close enough to cut a strand of hair that drifted to the ground.
She countered with a thrust. The claymore's point drove toward the Nomu's exposed chest. The creature twisted sideways, the blade grazing its ribs, carving a shallow line across its torso that healed before the blood could fall.
The Nomu pressed forward. It wasn't thinking — it couldn't think — but whatever programming drove its combat instincts had identified the pattern: attack relentlessly, give no breathing room, overwhelm with volume.
And it was fast enough to execute that strategy at a level that would have overwhelmed most fighters.
Blade-fingers rained from every possible angle. Low sweeps, high stabs, diagonal slashes, spinning combinations that turned the creature's arms into a blender of metallic edges. The speed was inhuman.... as it was, in fact, not a human(Pun intended).
Mei, totally unfazed, parried them all.
Not blocked. Parried. There was a difference. Blocking meant absorbing force. Parrying meant redirecting it, using the attacker's momentum against them, turning their power into your advantage.
Every blade-finger that came at her was met by the claymore at exactly the right angle, at exactly the right moment. She didn't fight the Nomu's speed — she flowed with it, matching its rhythm, anticipating each strike a fraction of a second before it arrived.
The claymore danced. Black steel and pink energy, weaving through the storm of blade-fingers like a conductor's baton through an orchestra of violence. Every parry created an opening. Every deflection set up a counter. And every counter drew blood — shallow cuts across the Nomu's arms, its torso, its thighs, lines of black ichor that healed within seconds but proved the point.
The exchange lasted thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of continuous combat at a speed that the cameras on the rooftop could barely track.
The footage, when it was reviewed later, would show nothing but blurs and sparks and the occasional frozen frame of Mei's smiling face.
In the stadium below, the crowd caught glimpses of the rooftop fight on the few remaining screens that were still functional. Sparks rained down from above like fireworks every time blade met blade.
Present Mic, who was still coordinating the evacuation, caught a frame on his monitor.
"IS THAT A WOMAN FIGHTING A NOMU ON THE ROOF WITH A SWORD?! WHO IS THAT?!"
Nobody answered him.....
The Nomu shifted tactics. It broke off the close-range assault and leapt backward, putting distance between itself and Mei. Then it circled. Running along the edge of the rooftop at full speed, its blade-fingers scraping the concrete as it moved, looking for an angle, looking for a gap in her defence.
It found none. But it attacked anyway.
It came from the left. Mei didn't move until the last possible moment.
Then she sidestepped. One step. The Nomu's blade-fingers passed her hip by a centimetre. She brought the claymore down on its extended arm, severing three fingers. Black blood sprayed across the rooftop. The fingers hit the concrete and twitched.
The Nomu screeched. Its arm was already regenerating, the stumps bubbling with new growth, but for two seconds, it was off balance, injured, and close.
Mei punished it. She drove the pommel of her claymore into its jaw, snapping its head back. It was followed by a horizontal slash across its chest that opened it from shoulder to hip.
Three hits, all finding their targets. The Nomu staggered backward, its body struggling to regenerate three major wounds simultaneously.
But it did regenerate. Within five seconds, the cuts sealed. The fingers regrew. The creature stood straight, its empty eyes fixed on Mei, its body whole again.
It attacked. Again. Faster this time, as if its programming had adapted, as if whatever intelligence drove it had decided that the only way to beat this woman was to simply be faster than she could parry.
Fun fact.... It wasn't.
Every strike was met. Every lunge was deflected. Every combination was read, countered, and punished with a cut that healed and a lesson that didn't.
The fight had been going for two minutes. Two minutes of continuous, high-speed combat on a rooftop, blade against blade, regeneration against precision, and neither combatant had gained a decisive advantage.
Then the sky lit up.
BOOOM.
A massive explosion of flame erupted from the far side of the stadium, where Endeavor was engaging his Nomu with everything he had. The blast was enormous, visible from every part of the campus, the heat washing across the rooftop in a wave that made the air shimmer.
Mei glanced at it.
Seeing that the Nomu was already moving. It exploited the opening with mechanical precision, closing the distance in a heartbeat, all ten blade-fingers driving toward Mei's chest.
Mei's claymore came up. She parried nine of them.
The tenth grazed her side. A thin line of red opened across her ribs, just below her arm.
The Nomu pressed forward, sensing weakness.
Mei looked down at the cut on her ribs. Then she looked at the Nomu.
Something changed.
The smile faded. The playful, casual demeanour that she had worn for the entire fight disappeared.
"Enough games," she said. "Let's get this over with."
She unsummoned the claymore.
The massive black greatsword dissolved into motes of pink light, scattering from her hand like cherry blossom petals. Her right hand was empty. Her left hand held a single blade — small, barely longer than a dagger, its edge so thin it was almost invisible. Pink energy pulsed along its surface, the metal humming with a frequency that made the air vibrate.
The Nomu tilted its head. Totally confused, and thought she had given up, so it charged.
Alas, this was the end.
BOOM!!
Pink aura exploded around Mei's body.
The shockwave flattened the ventilation units around her. The satellite dishes crumpled. The concrete beneath her feet cracked in a perfect circle, spider-web fractures radiating outward from where she stood. The pink energy wasn't just around her blade anymore; it was radiating from her. Her arms, her legs, her entire body, wrapped in a shell of compressed Sword Aura that hummed with a power that dwarfed everything she had shown so far.
She hadn't been fighting seriously.
For two minutes, against a three-quirk Nomu engineered for killing, Mei Lin had been warming up.
The Nomu felt it. Despite having no emotions, no consciousness, no capacity for feeling, it felt it. Something in its engineered instincts, something buried deep in whatever remained of its biological programming, screamed at it.
The creature hesitated. For the first time since its creation, it hesitated. And finally felt something.
Fear.
Mei smiled.
"Dodge this."
She vanished.
One frame, she was standing in front of the Nomu. In the next frame, the space was empty.
She was there, and then she wasn't, as if someone had deleted her from reality and pasted her somewhere else.
The Nomu's head turned. Slowly. Its super speed, the same speed that had kept pace with Mei for two minutes, was suddenly of no use. It turned its body, searching, blade-fingers raised in a defensive posture that it had never needed before.
Mei was behind it.
Standing still. Relaxed. The small blade was no longer in her hand — she had already unsummoned it. Her arms were at her sides. Her eyes were closed.
Then she opened them.
"Die."
For a moment, nothing happened. The Nomu stood on the rooftop, whole, intact, its regeneration working, its body functional, its programming running.
Then the cuts appeared.
One. Ten. Fifty. Hundred.
Lines of pink light criss-crossed the Nomu's body like a diagram drawn by a god with a scalpel. Every limb. Every joint. Every section of its torso, its head, its fingers, its legs. Sliced with precision.
The Nomu didn't scream. It couldn't. Its vocal cords had been severed along with everything else.
It came apart.
Piece by piece, section by section, the creature that had been engineered to kill and regenerate and never stop fell to the rooftop in a cascade of black fragments. A hundred pieces, each one cauterised by Sword Aura, each one sealed shut by the pink energy that prevented regeneration from activating.
It couldn't heal. Every cut was burned closed at a level that its quirk couldn't reach. The regeneration tried — the pieces twitched, the edges bubbled — but the Sword Aura had seared the cellular structure beyond recovery.
The pieces stopped moving.
Dead.
The rooftop was silent.
Mei stood among the remains, the wind catching her hair. She looked down at the scattered pieces of the Nomu, making sure it was dead.
She looked at the cut on her ribs. Touched it with one finger. Winced slightly.
"I've got to stop doing this."
She turned and looked out over the stadium. Below, the battles were still going on. Pro heroes against Nomus. Students defending civilians. Endeavor burning through the southern section.
And somewhere in the jungle, beyond the treeline, flashes of red fire lit up the canopy.
Akira.
Mei watched the distant flames for a moment. Then she sat down on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the side, and pulled out her phone.
She dialled a number.
"Old man," she said. "You watching?"
On the other end, President Ming took a sip of his tea.
"Hohohoho. Of course I am."
"The kid's fighting Muscular."
"I know."
"You going to do something?"
A pause, then Ming laughed again.
"Not yet. Let the boy fight his demon first."
Mei looked at the jungle. At the red fire burning through the trees.
"And if the demon wins?"
Ming's voice lost its warmth.
"Then I will come myself."
Mei hung up and watched the forest burn.
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WHO WAS THAT??????👀👀
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