"So? How's the feast I prepared for you? Tasty enough?"
"I'LL KILL YOU! YOU BRAT—I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!!"
Already wracked with agony from Shigaraki's "gift," the Butcher now nearly lost his mind from rage at that mocking tone. Tears and snot streamed down his face as he forced his mangled body upright.
Snarling, eyes bloodshot, he charged.
He didn't care about pain anymore.
He only wanted one thing—
To tear this boy apart.
Seeing the feral rush, Shigaraki instantly understood: the man had completely lost rational thought.
"Wow," he clicked his tongue. "You break so easily."
"That was just an appetizer. The main course hasn't even been served yet, and you're already losing it?"
"Disappointing. I thought you'd entertain me longer."
He shrugged lightly.
"Ah well. I didn't expect much from you anyway."
"If you're already broken, then… game over."
His right hand rose.
Fingers curled.
Fist tightened.
Then—
He stepped in and drove a punch straight into the Butcher's gut.
The impact blasted the massive body off its feet like a struck hog. It smashed into the cold-storage wall and slid down in a limp heap.
But that was only the beginning.
Before the Butcher could even register the blow, Shigaraki was already there.
He closed the distance in an instant.
His right hand opened. Fingers spread.
"I'm curious," Shigaraki said softly. "If you don't have any limbs left… can you still hurt anyone?"
—
One minute later—
Shigaraki stood over what remained.
The once-towering, cannibalistic killer—over two meters tall—was now nothing more than a limbless, bloated torso rolling on the floor.
A grotesque sphere of flesh.
He thrashed helplessly, trying to bow.
"P-please… don't kill me… don't kill me!!"
Gone was the savage predator.
In his place: a pathetic clown.
Absurd.
Pitiful.
Wretched.
Shigaraki felt nothing.
A creature that devoured people for pleasure did not deserve sympathy.
"Did you ever spare the people who begged you?" he asked coldly.
The answer was obvious.
Shigaraki had no intention of killing him—not yet.
Not because of Japan's hero laws.
Those regulations meant nothing to him. He was a Villain. If Villains obeyed society's rules, they wouldn't be criminals.
No.
He kept the Butcher alive because this fate was worse.
He intended to deliver him to his Sensei—All For One—
And have him turned into a Nomu.
The transformation process was agony beyond imagination.
And once completed?
The victim lost independent will.
Reduced to a mindless puppet.
Forced to serve the one who defeated him.
To Shigaraki, that was the perfect punishment.
Defeated.
Broken.
Remade.
Enslaved.
For someone like the Butcher, that was hell.
If the conversion failed and he died?
Then he was nothing more than wasted material.
A disposable monster.
Shigaraki pulled out his phone and contacted All For One, requesting pickup and transport to the Nomu facility.
The Butcher's body was filthy. Shigaraki had no desire to touch it again.
—
After some time, All For One's retrieval team arrived.
Shigaraki handed over the bound, spherical mass that had once been the Butcher and instructed them to secure him carefully.
Then he turned away, dusting off his hands.
He left the slaughterhouse.
It was still early.
He planned to head to Kabukicho and enjoy himself for a while.
But before he reached it—
A familiar green figure flashed across a nearby street.
Shigaraki's eyes lit up.
Without hesitation, he abandoned the entertainment district and turned toward that street instead.
Women?
What fun was that compared to… training the protagonist?
None at all.
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