Chapter 38: Crimson Divide
The colossal U.A. stadium violently erupted into a deafening, earth-shattering roar. Tens of thousands of spectators leaped from their seats, their screams echoing across the clear blue sky. The giant digital screens suspended high above the arena flashed frantically, capturing the unbelievable upset that had just transpired on the dirt track below.
Through the chaotic, swirling dust of the battlefield, a small, disembodied hand streaked through the air. Setsuna Tokage's floating fingers perfectly navigated the pandemonium, dropping the pristine white headband directly into the waiting palm of Neito Monoma.
The bright red numbers—10,000,000—gleamed under the morning sun. Monoma confidently wrapped the fabric around his neck, securing the ultimate prize.
Heavy beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking into the collar of his standard U.A. gym uniform. His sharp, grayish-blue eyes gleamed with absolute, theatrical arrogance. He looked down at the immobilized Volcanic Fortress sinking into the mud, throwing his arms wide open in a grand, mocking gesture.
"Is this the terrifying beast of Class 1-A?!" Monoma declared, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "The arrogant fools believed their strongest weapon was an untouchable god! But look at him now—stripped of his crown in mere seconds! The supposed elite of Class A are nothing but overhyped, predictable brutes who rely entirely on raw power!"
The overwhelming, chaotic noise of the stadium—the explosions, the cheering, the blaring voice of Present Mic—completely drowned out Monoma's speech to the rest of the arena. The only people who could hear his condescending monologue were the four students of the Volcanic Fortress, helplessly anchored in the deep, viscous mud in front of him.
Across the battlefield, another pair of eyes witnessed the theft.
Katsuki Bakugo's crimson eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated fury. Veins bulged violently against his sweat-drenched temples. The fabric of his dark blue U.A. tracksuit was already singed and torn from his aggressive maneuvers, but his physical exhaustion was entirely eclipsed by his exploding rage.
"HOW DID THAT IDIOT LET THEM TAKE IT SO EASILY?!" Bakugo roared, his voice cracking with feral anger as sparks popped violently from his palms. "THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME! I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS TO CRUSH HIM!"
Without a second of hesitation, Bakugo aggressively slammed his hands onto the heads of his teammates, violently redirecting his cavalry away from their current targets and straight toward the smug blonde of Class 1-B. Simultaneously, from the opposite side of the arena, Shoto Todoroki's mismatched eyes narrowed into cold, calculating slits. He exhaled a breath of freezing white mist, ordering Iida to pivot their elite formation directly toward Monoma.
Back in the mud, Sakazuki remained completely silent.
He stared down at his thick, bare hands. A single drop of blood trickled from his lower lip, staining his chin where the copied steel fist had struck him. In the midst of the roaring crowd and the blistering heat of the sun, Sakazuki experienced a profound, chilling moment of realization.
A brief memory flashed through his mind—sitting across from Principal Nezu in the quiet, air-conditioned office. "My quirk is a weapon of war," Sakazuki had told the principal. "If I unleash it here, I will kill them." He realized his mistake. His military discipline, his desperate attempt to hold back the lethal nature of his magma to avoid slaughtering his classmates, had turned him into a passive, predictable target. His mercy was the exact reason he had just lost the ten million points.
Sakazuki slowly raised his head. The dark, bottomless voids of his eyes locked onto his struggling vanguard. Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were gritting their teeth, their faces flushed and dripping with sweat as they desperately tried to pull their heavy legs out of Juzo's bottomless swamp.
"The time for holding back is over," Sakazuki's deep, gravelly voice resonated over the noise of the crowd, sending a visceral shiver down their spines. "Endure the heat."
Sakazuki aimed both of his hands directly downward at the viscous, bubbling mud trapping his team. Instead of an explosive blast, he released a thick, continuous stream of heavy, liquid magma directly onto the softened earth.
The thermal shock was catastrophic. The intense, blistering temperature of the molten rock—exceeding thousands of degrees—instantly boiled away the moisture in the mud. The loud, violent hiss of vaporizing water filled the air as thick clouds of white steam billowed around them. Within seconds, the sticky, inescapable swamp was violently baked into a layer of dry, rock-solid ceramic cement.
"Now!" Sakazuki commanded.
Kirishima and Tetsutetsu exchanged a wild, fiercely determined glance. Pushing their hardened and metallic quirks to their absolute physical limits, the two vanguards flexed their thighs. With a deafening CRACK that sounded like shattering glass, they shattered the baked, hardened earth with pure, unadulterated physical strength, rising from the crater and standing tall on the solid dirt track once more.
Meanwhile, the center of the stadium had devolved into a massive, high-stakes standoff.
Monoma found himself completely surrounded. To his left, Todoroki's elite team approached, surrounded by an aura of biting frost. To his right, Bakugo's explosive chariot bounded forward, reeking of ozone and burnt nitroglycerin. However, Monoma was not unprotected. Kendo's team tightly guarded his right flank, while Awase's team fortified his left, creating an impenetrable wall of three Class 1-B teams dedicated entirely to protecting the ten million.
"Brace yourselves!" Sakazuki ordered his team.
Instead of raising his fists, Sakazuki moved his thick arms entirely behind his back, aiming his open palms directly behind Shoji. The multi-armed student widened his stance, his muscular arms locking the formation together with unbreakable tension.
BOOM!
Two massive, continuous pillars of roaring magma erupted from Sakazuki's palms like the blinding thrusters of a heavy spacecraft. The sheer, concussive force of the thermal propulsion violently launched the Volcanic Fortress forward. The blazing streams of liquid fire passed mere inches over Shoji's head, radiating a suffocating, unbearable heat that singed the back of the tall student's hair. Yet, Shoji did not flinch, he did not complain, and he did not look back. He trusted his rider implicitly, keeping his eyes locked entirely on the path ahead.
They tore across the arena at a terrifying, blistering speed, closing the massive distance in the blink of an eye.
Mid-charge, Sakazuki abruptly cut the rear propulsion. The sudden deceleration caused Kirishima and Tetsutetsu's boots to skid heavily against the dirt, kicking up massive clouds of brown dust. Before their momentum could completely halt, Sakazuki violently swung his massive, magma-coated arms forward.
He did not aim for Monoma. He aimed for the ground on the extreme left and right flanks.
Two concentrated, blindingly bright beams of superheated magma shot from his fists like searing lasers. The liquid fire struck the earth with devastating kinetic force, instantly melting the dirt and carving two deep, glowing, impassable trenches of bubbling lava directly across the battlefield.
The stadium gasped in collective horror. The heavy heat waves radiating from the fresh magma trenches fiercely distorted the air, creating a shimmering, mirage-like haze.
Todoroki's team was forced to slam on the brakes, the blistering heat melting the ice beneath their feet. Bakugo screamed in sheer frustration, aggressively pulling his team to a halt to avoid plunging directly into the molten ravine. With a single, devastatingly precise tactical strike, Sakazuki had physically barricaded the two strongest Class A teams, completely isolating the Class B alliance in the center.
Up in the booth, Present Mic was screaming incoherently, gripping his headphones as the giant digital monitors zoomed in on the center of the arena.
The screens displayed a picture of terrifying, flawless unity. The blue and white U.A. uniforms of the Volcanic Fortress were soaked in sweat and stained with soot. The ambient heat radiating from Sakazuki's body was visibly distorting the air around him. Yet, despite currently sitting in dead last with absolutely zero points on the scoreboard, Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were grinning like wild, fearless beasts. They were the perfect, unbreakable vanguard, carrying a god of destruction on their shoulders.
Todoroki glared through the shimmering heat haze, his teeth gritted. Bakugo practically foamed at the mouth, his explosive palms crackling with impotent rage as the magma barricade denied him his prey.
Trapped in the center, Monoma watched the towering, steaming figure of the magma user barrelling directly toward his defensive line. The intense, suffocating heat washed over Monoma's face, forcing him to squint his grayish-blue eyes. But instead of showing fear, the Phantom Thief allowed a wide, highly anticipated smirk to stretch across his face.
He looked up at the dark, murderous eyes of the crimson beast.
"You still want to fight?" Monoma whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of adrenaline and absolute madness.
.
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