Chapter 39: Steel Shield
The center of the U.A. stadium had been transformed into a suffocating, superheated quarantine zone.
Two massive, glowing trenches of bubbling magma physically divided the battlefield, radiating a blinding, incandescent heat that violently distorted the morning air into a shimmering mirage. Trapped perfectly between these impassable walls of liquid fire, the Class 1-B alliance stood their ground. Sweat poured down their faces, soaking the collars of their dark blue and white U.A. gym uniforms. The ambient temperature was skyrocketing, and the smell of scorched earth hung heavy in their lungs.
Yet, despite the terrifying display of environmental control, Kosei Tsuburaba remained highly confident.
Acting as the front-left vanguard for Monoma's chariot, Tsuburaba watched the steaming, towering figure of Sakazuki rapidly approaching. He remembered the brief clash just moments ago. He had completely neutralized the magma user's blast with a single breath.
He is just flashy, Tsuburaba thought, a bold, assured smirk stretching across his face as he wiped a bead of sweat from his chin. His magma is heavy, but it cannot pierce my invisible shields. He is not a threat to us as long as I am here.
"Do not panic!" Tsuburaba shouted to his teammates over the roaring crowd. He inhaled a massive, deep breath of the hot air, his chest expanding to its absolute limit. He blew out forcefully, repeatedly.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
In the blink of an eye, Tsuburaba erected four consecutive, thick walls of Solid Air directly in the path of the charging Volcanic Fortress. It was an absolute, transparent barricade designed to halt any physical or elemental projectile.
On the opposing side, Sakazuki did not command Kirishima and Tetsutetsu to slow down. The two hardened vanguards pounded their heavy boots into the dirt, their faces locked in wild, unified grins as they carried their rider forward.
Sakazuki drew his right arm back. The glowing, viscous magma coating his thick forearm began to aggressively bubble and expand. He concentrated the molten rock to an unprecedented density, manipulating the sheer volume of the liquid fire until it took on a distinct, terrifying shape.
It did not roar. It did not possess eyes, nor was it alive. It was simply a masterclass in elemental shaping—a massive, devastating projectile of pure volcanic destruction molded into the jagged, terrifying head of a hunting hound. Its molten fangs glowed with a blinding, searing yellow-white intensity against the dark crimson of its heavy snout.
With a brutal, sweeping thrust of his right arm, Sakazuki unleashed the Inugami Guren—the Magma Hound.
The colossal mass of shaped magma rocketed forward. It slammed violently into the first wall of Solid Air. It did not bite the shield, nor did it shatter it upon impact. Instead, the heavy, molten hound flattened entirely against the invisible barrier.
Tsuburaba's confident smirk instantly vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated horror.
The volume of the magma was too vast, and the heat was catastrophically high. The Solid Air could not withstand the apocalyptic thermal transfer. With a loud, agonizing hiss, the invisible wall literally began to boil. The extreme temperature forced the solidified oxygen to aggressively melt back into its natural, gaseous state.
Pop. Hiss. Pop.
The magma hound effortlessly melted through the first wall, then the second, and then the third, dissolving Tsuburaba's ultimate defense into thin air as if it were nothing more than a cheap illusion.
"It's melting my air?!" Tsuburaba screamed, his eyes wide with absolute disbelief.
Seeing his impenetrable defense evaporate in seconds, Monoma's grayish-blue eyes dilated in sudden panic. The catastrophic heat was inches away. Relying entirely on survival instinct, Monoma instantly tapped into the copied quirk flowing through his veins. He didn't just harden his arms; he transformed his entire body into solid, heavy steel.
The sudden, massive spike in his physical weight was devastating for his team.
"Guh!" Kendo's teammates and Tsuburaba groaned loudly, their knees violently buckling as Monoma suddenly became as heavy as an anvil. The entire Class 1-B chariot staggered, their flawless balance completely shattered under the crushing weight of their own rider.
Monoma violently crossed his steel-coated arms in a tight 'X' over his face just as the magma hound crashed into him.
The collision shook the earth. Thick plumes of white and black smoke erupted into the sky. Sakazuki did not stop; he kept his right arm extended, continuously pumping a relentless, heavy stream of liquid magma directly into the hound, pressing the attack with overwhelming, crushing force.
The physics of the clash were brutal and undeniable. Monoma's steel arms successfully blocked the physical impact of the magma, but steel was a magnificent conductor of heat.
Slowly, visibly, the color of Monoma's metallic arms began to shift. The dull, gray sheen of the steel turned into a dark, bruised violet, and then, under the sheer, unyielding friction and thousands of degrees of continuous heat, it began to glow a bright, blinding orange.
"GAAAAAH!" Monoma screamed through his gritted teeth, his neck straining as the metal coating his own flesh began to reach its melting point. He was effectively being cooked alive inside his own armor.
The ambient heat radiating from the point of impact turned the immediate vicinity into an unbearable oven. Drops of stray magma splattered against the dirt like lethal rain. For the supporting members of Kendo and Awase's teams, remaining in formation was no longer a matter of losing points; it was a matter of suffering severe, third-degree burns.
Unable to endure the suffocating heat and the splashing liquid rock, the supporting Class 1-B teams broke formation. They frantically scrambled backward, coughing and shielding their faces, completely abandoning the center.
Monoma was left entirely isolated, his team staggering and collapsing under his heavy, glowing orange weight.
Despite the overwhelming success of his barrage, Sakazuki did not reach out to reclaim his prize. His arms were heavily occupied with maintaining the suppression.
"Shoji!" Sakazuki commanded, his gravelly voice cutting through the hiss of the steam.
From the rear of the Volcanic Fortress, Mezo Shoji sprang into action. Utilizing the dense cloud of white smoke for cover, Shoji rapidly replicated a long, interconnected chain of muscular arms. The limb extended several meters through the blistering heat, completely bypassing Monoma's agonizing defense. With flawless precision, Shoji's hand swiped the ten-million-point headband right off Monoma's neck.
The moment the fabric was secured, Sakazuki abruptly cut off the flow of magma.
The heavy hound dissolved, splashing harmlessly onto the baked dirt. Sakazuki lowered his thick arms, the glowing crimson fading back into normal human skin. He tilted his head back and exhaled. A long, thick stream of white-hot air escaped his lips, rising into the sky like exhaust from a heavy engine. Thanks to the grueling, borderline torturous environmental training he had endured in the freezing vaults before the festival, his internal organs effortlessly managed the massive thermal recoil.
The colossal stadium screens instantly updated, and Present Mic's voice exploded through the speakers, nearly blowing them out.
"UNBELIEVABLE! THROUGH A DISPLAY OF ABSOLUTE, OVERWHELMING FIREPOWER AND FLAWLESS TEAMWORK, TEAM SAKAZUKI HAS RECLAIMED THE TEN MILLION POINTS! THEY HAVE CRUSHED THE CLASS B ALLIANCE!"
The crowd went absolutely feral. Tens of thousands of people screamed in sheer awe, their cheers shaking the very foundations of the arena.
Kirishima and Tetsutetsu panted heavily, their faces bruised and filthy, but they wore the widest, most triumphant grins imaginable. Above them, Shoji calmly retracted his duplicated limbs, holding the pristine white headband firmly in his primary hand for the entire world to see.
A few meters away, the dust and steam slowly cleared, revealing the broken remnants of the shadow alliance.
Monoma stood among his exhausted teammates. He deactivated the copied quirk, his skin shifting from the glowing, superheated steel back to normal human flesh. However, the damage had been done.
Nasty, dark red burn scars wrapped around his forearms, the skin tender and blistering from the extreme, conducted heat of the steel. Awase, Tsuburaba, and the rest of the Class B students looked at their leader's arms. The competitive anger in their eyes melted away, instantly replaced by profound sorrow and deep sympathy. They realized just how much agony he had silently endured to try and hold the line.
Monoma did not scream, nor did he look at his teammates. He stood with his head bowed, his scorched arms hanging completely limp at his sides. Every few seconds, his fingers twitched involuntarily from the severe nerve irritation.
He stared at the scorched earth beneath his boots.
"Tch," Monoma clicked his tongue, a bitter, hollow sound that was completely swallowed by the roaring cheers of the stadium.
.
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