Chapter 17: Scattered Ranks
The air in the Unforeseen Simulation Joint grew cold and stagnant as the massive horde of villains continued to pour out of the swirling purple portal in the central plaza.
Sakazuki stood at the edge of the long staircase, his broad shoulders squared and his dark eyes locked onto the rising threat. He had already calculated the distance, the elevation, and the optimal trajectory to unleash a devastating thermal wave into the center of the mob.
Before he could take another step, a firm, heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Sakazuki turned his head slightly. Shota Aizawa stood beside him, his yellow goggles already pulled down over his eyes, his long, dark capture scarf unwinding itself like a nest of agitated snakes.
"Do not move, Sakazuki," Aizawa ordered, his voice stripped of its usual lazy drawl, replaced by a sharp, uncompromising edge. "Stay back with Thirteen. Protect the rest of the students and focus entirely on evacuation."
Sakazuki looked at the underground hero. He did not argue. He did not let his pride dictate his actions. He simply gave a slow, measured nod and stepped back, yielding the front line. He is the appointed instructor, Sakazuki reasoned internally, his dark eyes tracking Aizawa as the man prepared to jump. Let us see him prove exactly why he holds the title of our homeroom teacher.
Without another word, Aizawa leaped over the railing, plummeting down the massive staircase toward the encroaching army of criminals.
Sakazuki watched from the high vantage point. To the untrained eye, jumping into a crowd of dozens of armed villains was a suicide mission for a hero whose primary strength was erasing quirks. But as Aizawa landed amidst the mob, Sakazuki witnessed a masterclass in close-quarters combat. Aizawa moved with liquid efficiency, dodging crude attacks, erasing the quirks of the most dangerous shooters in the backlines, and using his heavy cloth to violently smash the villains into one another. It was precise, brutal, and highly effective crowd control.
"Everyone, this way! Hurry!" Thirteen called out, waving the paralyzed students toward the massive, heavy metal doors that served as the facility's main entrance.
The students broke from their shock, turning to run for the exit.
Suddenly, a thick, purplish-black fog erupted from the floor tiles directly in front of the doors, rapidly expanding upward to completely block their only path of escape. The mist churned and twisted until two glowing, narrow yellow eyes appeared within the dark void.
"I am afraid I cannot allow you to leave," the shadowy entity spoke, its voice unnervingly polite and refined. "Greetings. We are the League of Villains. Forgive our audacity, but we have invited ourselves into this bastion of heroism... to ensure All Might, the Symbol of Peace, takes his final breath."
The words hung in the air, chilling the blood of the teenagers.
Thirteen immediately stepped to the front, reaching for the small, specialized caps on her thick gloves, preparing to unleash the devastating power of Black Hole to suck the mist away.
But the sheer, overwhelming tension snapped the restraint of two students.
"Did you consider us before you did that?!"
Katsuki Bakugo roared, lunging forward with explosive speed, his palms sparking violently. Right beside him, Eijiro Kirishima hardened his arms, letting out a fierce battle cry. The two teenagers ignored Thirteen entirely, launching themselves directly at the shadowy figure in a desperate, adrenaline-fueled attempt to neutralize the threat.
A massive, blinding explosion detonated point-blank against the dark mist, sending a shockwave echoing through the dome.
"Did we get him?!" Kirishima yelled, shielding his eyes from the smoke.
Standing a few feet back, Sakazuki's dark eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits. Fools, he thought, a deep wave of irritation washing over him. A completely uncoordinated strike against an enemy with entirely unknown parameters. They allowed their fear and anger to obscure the professional hero's line of fire, rendering her useless.
As the smoke from Bakugo's explosion cleared, the dark mist simply swirled back together, completely unharmed.
"That was quite dangerous," the shadowy entity noted, expanding its misty form ominously. "You are indeed the golden eggs of U.A. High. But your role here is to be scattered and broken."
Before Thirteen could react, the dark fog violently surged forward like a massive, unstoppable tidal wave. It swept over the screaming students, plunging them into absolute, suffocating darkness.
Sakazuki felt the solid concrete vanish from beneath his heavy boots.
The sensation of falling into the void was disorienting, designed to induce panic and terror. Around him, in the dark, he could hear the faint, muffled screams of his classmates thrashing wildly.
Sakazuki did not scream. He did not flail his arms.
He closed his eyes, entirely relaxing his tense muscles. He aligned his posture, preparing his legs to absorb the shock of an unknown landing, and allowed gravity to pull him down in absolute, composed silence.
A second later, his boots slammed heavily into solid ground.
He absorbed the impact effortlessly, his knees bending slightly before he straightened back up to his full, imposing height. The transition was instantaneous. He opened his eyes, the dark mist fading away into the humid air.
He was no longer standing near the entrance. The environment around him was a desolate, jagged wasteland of shattered concrete, twisted rebar, and collapsed rooftops. He had been dropped directly into the center of the Ruins Zone. The air smelled strongly of thick dust, rusted iron, and decay.
He was entirely alone.
Or rather, he was the only student.
From the shadows of the broken buildings and the dark alleyways of the simulated disaster zone, movement stirred. The sound of shifting rubble and heavy footsteps echoed around him.
One by one, they stepped out into the open. Ten, twenty, perhaps thirty villains formed a wide, jagged circle around him. They were armed with heavy iron pipes, rusted machetes, and brass knuckles. They looked like hardened street thugs, their faces twisted into ugly, confident sneers.
"Well, look what the warp gate spit out," a large, scarred man laughed, resting a spiked baseball bat over his shoulder.
"Look at his clothes," a woman with reptilian eyes hissed, stepping over a piece of broken concrete. "A pristine white suit and a fancy little hat. Did the rich kid get lost on his way to a dinner party?"
A chorus of cruel, mocking laughter echoed through the ruins. They looked at the teenage boy, entirely underestimating the stillness of his posture. They saw a pampered student trapped in a nightmare.
Sakazuki stood perfectly still in the center of the trap. He did not clench his fists. He did not activate his quirk, nor did the ambient temperature of the ruins rise by a single degree.
Instead, he slowly raised his black-gloved right hand. With a calm, deliberate motion, he grasped the brim of his pristine white cap and adjusted it slightly downward, ensuring the shadow fell heavily over his pitch-black, unreadable eyes.
He lowered his hand and looked around at the mocking faces of the criminals.
"You believe you have isolated a child in a desolate area," Sakazuki stated. His deep, rumbling voice did not echo with fear. It vibrated through the ruined cityscape with a chilling, absolute calm that immediately killed the laughter in the air. "You are severely mistaken. You have simply trapped yourselves in a closed zone... with me."