Chapter 18: The Melting Zone
The chilling, absolute calm in Sakazuki's voice hung in the air of the Ruins Zone for a brief, tense second.
Then, the ring of surrounding villains burst into loud, raucous laughter.
"Trapped with you?!" a massive, heavily scarred man bellowed, his muscles bulging as his enhancement quirk activated. He hoisted a thick, heavy iron pipe over his shoulder. "You really are just a delusional rich kid! Let's crush him!"
The giant villain lunged forward with surprising speed, swinging the heavy iron pipe in a devastating downward arc aimed directly at Sakazuki's head.
Sakazuki did not flinch. He did not activate his quirk. He simply shifted his weight.
With a minimal, almost lazy pivot of his torso, Sakazuki stepped half a pace to the side. The heavy iron pipe blurred past his pristine white suit, slamming violently into the solid concrete floor. The sheer kinetic impact ruptured the ground, sending a web of deep cracks outward and kicking up a thick cloud of sharp, gray debris.
Before the dust could even settle, two more villains rushed Sakazuki from his blind spots. A woman slashed at his neck with a rusted machete, while a man aimed a brass-knuckled fist at his ribs.
Sakazuki moved with the fluid, brutal efficiency of a seasoned brawler. He ducked smoothly under the sweeping blade, his dark eyes never losing track of his targets. Without missing a beat, he reached out and clamped his large, black-gloved hand over the wrist of the man with the brass knuckles. Using the villain's own forward momentum, Sakazuki sharply twisted the man's arm and threw him forward, sending him crashing heavily into the woman with the machete. They both tumbled into a tangled heap of bruised limbs and groans.
"You little bastard!" the giant villain roared, pulling his iron pipe free from the cratered floor. He stepped forward, swinging the weapon in a wide, horizontal arc meant to break Sakazuki in half.
Time seemed to slow down.
Sakazuki stood his ground. He raised his left hand, grasping the fingertips of his right black leather glove. With a smooth, unhurried pull, he slid the glove off his hand and tucked it neatly into the inner pocket of his white jacket.
He looked at the incoming iron pipe. He did not dodge this time.
His bare right hand darkened, the skin instantly giving way to a churning, blindingly bright mass of superheated, liquid magma. The air around his fist warped and screeched. Sakazuki stepped into the swing, throwing a straight, devastating punch directly at the steel weapon.
His magma fist met the thick iron pipe.
There was no bounce. There was no struggle of opposing forces. Sakazuki's fist punched a clean, glowing hole directly through the center of the solid steel shaft. The sheer, overwhelming thermal shock instantly melted the center of the weapon, snapping the thick pipe in two.
The giant villain stumbled backward, his eyes wide with absolute, mind-shattering horror as he stared at the two severed, glowing-hot ends of the pipe still gripped in his trembling hands.
A dead, terrifying silence fell over the Ruins Zone. The mocking laughter was gone.
"What... what the hell is that?" a villain in the back stuttered, taking an involuntary step backward.
Sakazuki did not answer. He lowered his molten arm, letting the liquid rock drip onto the floor. The ambient temperature of the ruined cityscape skyrocketed. The heavy, suffocating heat dried the air, making it physically painful to breathe. Beneath Sakazuki's specially designed, heat-resistant black boots, the solid concrete and asphalt began to soften, bubbling and glowing a faint, angry orange as it slowly melted into liquid slag.
"Don't just stand there! Shoot him!" the reptilian-eyed woman screamed in panic.
Desperation took hold. Several villains in the backlines raised firearms and activated projectile quirks. A flurry of lead bullets, jagged metal blades, and high-pressure water blasts tore through the air, all aimed directly at the teenager in the white cap.
Sakazuki simply stood there, his left hand adjusting the brim of his cap.
The projectiles never reached him. The moment the lead bullets and metal blades entered the intense, invisible thermal barrier radiating from his body, they glowed white-hot, melted into harmless liquid drops, and splattered against the melting floor. The water blasts fared even worse, flash-boiling into thick clouds of hissing steam inches away from his pristine white suit.
"My turn," Sakazuki rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through the heavy air.
He stepped forward. He did not unleash a massive explosion to wipe them out. Instead, he channeled a rapid, intense pulse of targeted ambient heat outward.
The villains shrieked in sudden agony. The iron pipes, machetes, and guns in their hands rapidly heated up, turning searing hot in a matter of seconds. Screaming, they dropped their weapons, clutching their blistered, burned palms.
Sakazuki continued his slow, rhythmic march forward. The sheer psychological terror of the unstoppable, glowing monster approaching them, combined with the rapidly depleting oxygen in the superheated air, broke their spirits completely.
The villains retreated, stumbling over the rubble. One by one, their legs gave out. They dropped to their knees, clutching their throats, gasping desperately for air in the suffocating heat, their will to fight entirely evaporated.
In less than three minutes, the ambush was over.
Dozens of villains lay scattered across the ruins, incapacitated by severe heat exhaustion and absolute, paralyzing fear. Not a single one was dead, but none of them would be standing up anytime soon.
Sakazuki stopped walking. The bright, churning magma on his right arm slowly cooled, turning back into scarred human flesh. The glowing concrete beneath him began to harden once more. He reached into his jacket, pulled out his black leather glove, and methodically pulled it back onto his hand, smoothing out the dark fabric.
Pawns, Sakazuki thought, his dark eyes sweeping over the groaning thugs. Weak, uncoordinated distractions meant to separate us.
He needed a better vantage point. He turned away from the fallen villains and approached the side of a partially collapsed, four-story concrete building. Moving with surprising agility for his size, he scaled the ruined structure, his heavy boots finding solid purchase on the exposed rebar and broken ledges until he hoisted himself onto the flat, dusty roof.
From this elevated position, he had a clear, panoramic view of the entire USJ dome. He could see the different zones, the massive glass ceiling, and, most importantly, the central plaza below the main staircase.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing on the plaza.
What he saw made his breath hitch for a fraction of a second.
Down in the center of the facility, the battle was a one-sided slaughter. Shota Aizawa, the man who had confidently ordered him to stay back, was pinned face-down against the hard concrete. The massive, dark-skinned monstrosity with the exposed brain—the Nomu—straddled the teacher's back, effortlessly snapping Aizawa's arm with a sickening, audible crack that echoed even up to the rooftops. Blood pooled darkly on the plaza tiles. Aizawa's goggles were broken, his face smashed into the ground.
Sakazuki stood perfectly still on the edge of the roof.
The image of the authoritative, flawless instructor—the man who was supposed to guide and protect them—cracked and shattered in his mind.
A teacher who is beaten and broken so easily in front of his students, Sakazuki thought, his analytical mind evaluating the grim reality of the scene, cannot serve as a true pillar of security. It proves that depending on others to uphold justice is a fragile, flawed system.
It was a cold, pragmatic assessment. Yet, beneath the heavy layers of his logic and discipline, something else began to stir. It was an unfamiliar, deep, and highly volatile churning in his chest.
Sakazuki looked at his homeroom teacher, who, despite having his bones shattered and his face crushed, was still glaring up at the villains, still trying to erase their quirks to buy time for his students. The man was severely outmatched, but he had stood his ground. He had done his duty to the absolute end.
Sakazuki's jaw clenched tight. The air around him suddenly began to warp and shimmer as a profound, burning anger ignited within him. It was not a childish tantrum; it was the quiet, terrifying fury of an awakened volcano.
You did your job, Teacher, Sakazuki thought, his dark eyes locking onto the pale, hand-covered villain and the monstrous Nomu below. Now... I will do mine.
He took a step toward the edge of the roof, his heavy brown cloak fluttering in the dry wind, preparing to descend into the heart of the slaughter.