Chapter 23: The Vanguard's Fury
The air in the clearing was suffocating, thick with the stench of ozone, burning pine, and the terrifying, heavy pressure of the Winged Sovereign's Swarm.
Dabi's arrogant smirk melted into a vicious scowl. The staples holding his scarred flesh together seemed to strain as he glared up at the towering, masked figure hovering before them. He didn't care about the theatrical entrance, and he certainly didn't care about "clipped strings."
"You think a fancy light show and a few kids in armor can hijack the League's stage?" Dabi snarled, raising both of his arms. The blue flames swirling around his palms instantly intensified, burning so hot they turned white at the core. "I don't care what kind of 'Sovereign' you claim to be. Ash looks the same in the dark."
Dabi planted his feet, preparing to unleash a massive, omnidirectional wave of superheated cremation fire that would incinerate the Swarm, the Pro Heroes, and the surrounding trees in one apocalyptic blast.
BANG.
There was no flash from the trees. There was only the sharp, supersonic crack of displaced air.
A high-velocity projectile, molded from hardened bi-color hair, ripped through the clearing. It didn't strike Dabi in the chest. It grazed the exact center of his raised right palm, slicing through the flesh and tearing a bloody trench across his hand.
Dabi hissed, his concentration breaking. The massive buildup of blue fire sputtered and died instantly as he clutched his bleeding hand, stumbling backward into Twice.
"What the—?!" Twice yelled, his hands flying to his head. "A sniper?! That's not fair! Good shot!"
Near the edge of the clearing, Eraserhead's blood ran completely cold.
He didn't look at Dabi. He looked at the smoking crater the bullet had left in the dirt behind the villain. Aizawa had worked in the underground for a long time. He knew the ballistic profile of every major support-item manufacturer, and he knew the signature of the Hero Public Safety Commission's black-ops division.
Curving trajectory. Absolute silence. Biomechanical ammunition. "Tsutsumi," Aizawa breathed, his visible eye widening in sheer, unadulterated horror.
Lady Nagant. The Commission's Boogeyman. The most lethal, loyal sniper in Japan was sitting in the trees above them, providing cover fire for a rogue Quirk-Bestower. Aizawa looked up at the Winged Sovereign, the terrifying reality of the shadow war finally crashing down on him. The Sovereign hadn't just recruited a few powerful kids. He had shattered the Hero Commission from the inside out.
"I suggest you keep your hands at your sides, arsonist," Nocturne's distorted voice echoed, chillingly calm. "My rook rarely misses twice."
Before Dabi could retort, a massive, deafening crash tore through the tree line to their left. Entire, centuries-old pine trees were splintered into toothpicks as a hulking behemoth of a man leaped into the clearing.
Muscular had arrived.
The bloodthirsty villain was coated in thick, pulsating layers of raw, red muscle fibers that tore through his skin, giving him the appearance of a flayed giant. His one good eye darted around the clearing, entirely ignoring the burning trees and the Pro Heroes. He was looking for a fight.
"Where is it?!" Muscular roared, a manic, terrifying grin stretching across his face. "Where's the blood?! I came here to crush skulls, not play with fire!"
Muscular's eye locked onto the brightest target in the clearing: Kenji. The Quirkless Knight stood a few yards away, his Knight's Vow burning with an incandescent, unyielding silver light.
"Ooh," Muscular chuckled, his voice a deep, guttural rumble. "You look sturdy. Let's see how many punches it takes to pop you open!"
Muscular didn't hesitate. He launched himself forward, the ground cratering beneath his boots. His fist, wrapped in thousands of violently multiplying muscle fibers, swung in a devastating arc aimed directly at Kenji's head. The sheer air pressure of the punch stripped the bark off the nearby trees.
"Kenji! Move!" Vlad King screamed from the sidelines, knowing that a blow like that would liquify a normal human being.
Kenji didn't dodge. He didn't even raise his arms to block. Driven by the absolute, uncompromising desire to protect the Vanguard and the innocent students behind him, Kenji simply leaned into the strike.
KRA-KOOM!
The impact sounded like a bomb detonating. A massive shockwave rippled through the clearing, blowing out the flames in a fifty-foot radius.
Muscular's manic grin vanished.
His fist, backed by the raw power of a thousand coiled muscles, was pressed dead-center against Kenji's face. But Kenji hadn't moved an inch. The silver armor of the Knight's Vow flared, entirely absorbing the kinetic energy and grounding it into the earth beneath Kenji's boots. The immovable object had perfectly denied the unstoppable force.
"Is that all?" Kenji asked quietly, his eyes glowing silver beneath his dark hair.
Muscular's eye widened in shock. "What the—"
Kenji grabbed Muscular's massive wrist. With a terrifying roar, the Quirkless Knight twisted his hips and delivered a devastating, silver-plated headbutt directly into Muscular's nose.
The sickening crunch of shattering cartilage echoed over the fire. Muscular's feet were ripped from the ground, the giant villain sent hurtling backward through the air, crashing violently through three thick pine trees before coming to a halt in a tangle of broken branches.
On the other side of the clearing, Mr. Compress watched Muscular fall. The masked entertainer took a nervous step back, his cane tapping the dirt. The Vanguard was too strong. The stage was ruined.
"The script has been entirely rewritten!" Mr. Compress muttered to himself, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small, glowing blue marble. "But an entertainer always secures his prize before the curtain falls! Kurogiri, if you're listening, we need an exit!"
"Leaving so soon, magician?"
Compress spun around. Stepping out from the smoke, his purple Synaptic Overclock lightning sparking fiercely around his tactical jacket, was Hitoshi Shinso. The black half-mask hid Shinso's face, but his eyes glowed with a predatory, telepathic power.
Compress chuckled, tipping his top hat. "A true showman always leaves them wanting more, my purple friend! And I have the VIP guest right here in my pocket!"
"Is that so?" Shinso asked, his voice metallic and smooth through the modulator.
"Indeed!" Compress replied.
Snap.
The trap closed. The moment Compress answered the question, Shinso's Quirk engaged with the force of a psychic sledgehammer.
The purple lightning around Shinso surged, doubling in intensity as he forcefully networked his nervous system with the villain's. Mr. Compress went completely rigid, his cane dropping to the dirt. Behind the villain's mask, his eyes rolled back.
"A parlor trick," Shinso murmured, walking calmly toward the paralyzed villain. "You steal people and hide them in glass. Let's see what you stole."
Shinso stood in front of Compress. The rest of the League watched in horror, completely unable to intervene as the psychic dreadnought took total control of their comrade.
"Release the marbles," Shinso commanded.
Compress's hand mechanically rose. He snapped his fingers.
With a burst of pale blue smoke, the marble expanded. Katsuki Bakugo materialized in the center of the clearing. He was battered, covered in dirt, and absolutely vibrating with explosive fury.
"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" Bakugo roared, his palms popping with massive, aggressive explosions. He spun around, ready to blow Compress to pieces, but stopped dead in his tracks.
Bakugo looked to his left. He saw Dabi bleeding, pinned down by an unseen sniper. He looked to his right. He saw Muscular out cold in the trees, defeated by a glowing silver teenager. He looked straight ahead and saw Mr. Compress standing like a lifeless puppet before a boy radiating purple lightning.
And then, he looked up.
Floating above it all, wrapped in the terrifying, majestic wings of a cosmic butterfly, was the Winged Sovereign.
"What..." Bakugo breathed, his explosions dying down to tiny sparks as his brain struggled to process the sheer scale of the board he had just been dropped into. "...what the hell is going on here?"
Nocturne slowly descended, his boots touching the scorched earth mere feet from the explosive hero student. The Sovereign looked at Bakugo, then at Aizawa, and finally cast his gaze over the broken ranks of the League of Villains.
"The script has indeed been rewritten," Nocturne's voice hummed, resonating with the absolute, crushing authority of the Swarm. "The League's show is canceled. This forest belongs to the Vanguard."