Chapter 1: The Syllabus and the Sinner
Aegis Prime. The Academy of Stars.
The hard-light holographic projector in the center of the briefing room flickered, displaying a topographical map of a heavily forested mountain range in the northern prefectures of Japan.
Standing at the front of the room, his black eyepatch contrasting with his crisp teacher's uniform, was Shota Aizawa. He looked down at the three students sitting at the solitary desk in front of him.
They were Class Zero. The Vanguard's foundational generation.
Eri sat in the middle, her white hair tied in a practical, tight braid. She wore a specialized, lightweight Swarm tactical suit, the horn on her head glowing with a faint, tightly controlled yellow hum. To her left sat Kota Izumi, his signature horned hat replaced by a sleek, red-and-black visor, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. To her right sat Katsuma Shimano, the quiet boy from Nabu Island, a nervous but determined look in his brown eyes.
"Your first official surface-world exam is not a combat trial," Aizawa stated, his single eye scanning the three young teens. "The Vanguard has cleared the major cities, but the frontier is still untamed. Your objective is reconnaissance and cartography. You will deploy to the Oku-Hida mountain range, map the shifting terrain caused by the decay shockwaves of the war, and establish a communication relay for the nearby civilian settlement of Hope's Ridge."
Kota scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "A mapping mission? Come on, Mr. Aizawa. I can blast a water-cannon through solid concrete now! Give us something real. Let us hunt down the PLF stragglers!"
Aizawa's capture scarf whipped out like a striking snake, wrapping around Kota's chair and violently tilting it forward until the boy was nose-to-nose with the Underground Hero.
"A hero does not hunt for glory, Izumi," Aizawa growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Hope's Ridge is a fragile settlement. It is populated entirely by reformed Tartarus inmates and former Liberation Front soldiers who surrendered to the Sovereign. They are trying to build honest lives. Your presence there is a symbol that the Swarm protects everyone, regardless of their past. If you cannot understand the weight of that, you will not deploy."
Kota swallowed hard, the bravado instantly vanishing. "I understand, sir."
Aizawa released the chair, letting it clatter back onto all four legs. He looked at Eri and Katsuma.
"Eri, you are the squad leader," Aizawa instructed. "Katsuma, you are on medical and sensory duty. Kota, you are the vanguard shield. You are not authorized to engage in lethal combat. If you encounter an S-Rank threat, you ping the Spire and you run. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Mr. Aizawa!" the three students answered in unison.
"Good. The Sapphire Transit will take you to the surface gateway in one hour. Dismissed."
As the three teens rushed out of the room to grab their gear, Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temple. He looked at the map of the mountain range. The area was supposed to be completely cleared, but his instincts—honed by decades in the shadows—were humming with a dull, persistent anxiety.
The Surface World. Ruins of Sector 7.
The rain on the surface of Japan was no longer toxic, but it was still cold.
In a dark, flooded alleyway in the outer reconstruction zones of Tokyo, a neon light flickered violently, illuminating a horrific scene.
A man lay slumped against a brick wall, his chest carved open by a jagged blade. He was dead. Pinned to his forehead with a combat knife was a piece of blood-soaked parchment.
Standing over the body, the rain sliding off her long, waterproof trench coat, was Kaina Tsutsumi. Lady Nagant.
She knelt down, her sharp eyes scanning the victim. Her right arm, seamlessly integrated with her Swarm Rifle, rested casually at her side.
"Identify him," Nagant said, not turning around.
From the shadows of the alley, a ghost emerged.
Chizome Akaguro—Stain—stepped into the flickering neon light. He wore a dark, hooded tactical cloak. He carried no swords. His wrists bore the faint, glowing silver rings of the Sovereign's Knight's Vow density-glass. His Quirks, Bloodcurdle and Phantom Tread, were permanently suppressed. He was entirely Quirkless, serving his life sentence as the Swarm's ultimate, leashed bloodhound.
Stain crouched beside the body, sniffing the air. He didn't need a Quirk to read a crime scene. His white, pupilless eyes scanned the lacerations, the angle of the blade, and the blood splatter on the brick.
"His name was Kenjiro," Stain rasped, his voice a low, grinding sound. "A former lieutenant in the Yakuza. He surrendered to the Vanguard six months ago. He was working at the water purification plant two blocks from here. Trying to be a civilian."
Nagant reached out, pulling the blood-soaked parchment from the knife in the man's skull. She unfolded it.
Written in jagged, frantic black ink were three words: FALSE IDOLS BLEED.
Nagant sighed, crushing the paper in her fist. "This is the fourth one this month. Four reformed villains, all working honest jobs, all butchered in the dark. The reconstruction press is having a field day. They're calling him 'The Purge.'"
"He is not a purge," Stain growled, standing up, a visceral, deep-seated disgust rippling through his scarred face. "He is a fanatic. A butcher without a philosophy."
"He's copying your old playbook, Chizome," Nagant pointed out, looking at the Hero Killer. "He's targeting the people he believes are 'faking' their redemption. He thinks he's finishing the crusade you started before the Sovereign put you on a leash."
Stain looked down at the dead man. In the old world, Stain would have killed Kenjiro himself without a second thought. But the old world was ash. Endeavor had taught him that broken people could rebuild. The Sovereign had taught him that execution was not the only form of justice.
This copycat was taking Stain's darkest, most flawed ideology and weaponizing it against the peace Aegis Prime had fought so hard to establish.
"He is using a serrated hunting knife, roughly eight inches long," Stain analyzed, looking at the wounds. "But the cuts are sloppy. Frantic. He lacks discipline. He strikes from behind because he is a coward. But he left a trail."
Stain pointed to the flooded asphalt. Mixed in with the rainwater and blood was a faint, almost imperceptible trace of red clay.
"Red clay," Nagant observed, her sniper's vision zooming in on the dirt. "That doesn't exist in the Tokyo reconstruction zones. The closest deposits of raw, untreated red clay are..."
"...in the Oku-Hida mountain range," Stain finished, his white eyes narrowing into absolute, predatory slits. "He came to the city to hunt, but his den is in the mountains."
Nagant tapped the comms unit in her ear. "Spire Command, this is Hound-One. We have a vector on the copycat killer. Requesting immediate transit clearance to the Oku-Hida mountain frontier."
"Transit clearance granted, Hound-One," Rin's voice crackled over the radio. "Be advised, you will be operating in the same sector as Class Zero. They deployed twenty minutes ago for their cartography exam. Do not interfere with the students unless absolutely necessary."
Nagant froze, her eyes widening. She looked at Stain.
The copycat killer was hunting reformed villains. And Class Zero had just been sent to map a frontier settlement populated entirely by reformed villains, smack in the middle of the Oku-Hida mountains.
"It's not a den," Stain whispered, the horrific realization dawning on him. "It's a hunting ground. He's going to slaughter the entire settlement."
Nagant's rifle instantly fully deployed from her arm with a sharp, metallic SNIKT.
"We need to move. Now."