What If Deku Fought Of A Deadite Invasion

 

The tires of the U.A. High transport bus chewed through the thick, muddy gravel of the ascending mountain road, the heavy vehicle groaning in protest against the steep incline. Outside the rain-streaked windows, civilization had long since surrendered to the encroaching, untamed wilderness. Telephone poles had grown sparse, replaced by towering, ancient pines that seemed to crowd the narrow road, their dark green needles weaving a dense canopy that blocked out the late afternoon sun.

 

Izuku Midoriya sat near the middle of the bus, his notebook resting on his knees. Usually, his pen would be moving at a frantic pace, documenting the various pro-heroes they might encounter or analyzing the terrain for strategic advantages. Today, however, the pages remained blank. There was something about this forest, something deeply unsettling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The shadows cast by the trees didn't just look dark; they looked heavy. Dense. Like ink pooling in the hollows of the earth.

 

"Are we there yet?" Denki Kaminari whined from a few seats back, dramatically slumping against the window. "I lost cell service, like, an hour ago. What kind of training camp doesn't have Wi-Fi? How am I supposed to update my hero-gram?"

 

"The kind of training camp designed to test your absolute limits in off-grid survival," Tenya Iida replied, his voice booming with customary authority as he chopped the air with a rigid hand. "A true hero must be prepared to operate in environments completely devoid of modern infrastructure! Kaminari, you should be using this time to mentally prepare for the arduous tasks ahead, not lamenting the loss of social media!"

 

"Iida's right," Momo Yaoyorozu added, looking over her own topographical map of the region. "Mr. Aizawa mentioned that this facility is completely isolated. It’s an old vanguard outpost used decades ago before the modern hero system was fully established. We'll be expected to rely entirely on our Quirks, our wits, and each other."

 

At the front of the bus, bundled in his bright yellow sleeping bag, Shota Aizawa looked like a massive, disgruntled caterpillar. He didn't turn around, but his tired, raspy voice cut through the chatter effortlessly. "Yaoyorozu is correct. Which means if you intend on whining about your phones, Kaminari, you can get off the bus right now and walk back to Musutafu."

 

Kaminari immediately zipped his lips, sinking lower into his seat.

 

Katsuki Bakugo scoffed from across the aisle, his arms crossed over his chest, red eyes glaring out at the passing trees. "Good. The further away from you extras I can get, the better. Drop me in the middle of these woods right now, I'll still have a fire built, dinner hunted, and a shelter made before any of you losers even figure out how to pitch a tent."

 

"That’s a very manly attitude, Bakugo!" Eijiro Kirishima cheered, grinning brightly. "But remember, it’s a team-building exercise too!"

 

"I don't need a team," Bakugo growled, small sparks popping off his palms in a display of irritation.

 

Izuku tuned out the familiar bickering, turning his attention back to the window. The sky above the tree line was bruising. A massive, swirling front of dark purple and charcoal-gray clouds was rolling over the mountain peaks, swallowing the last vestiges of daylight. The air pressure in the bus dropped noticeably, making Izuku’s ears pop.

 

"Deku?"

 

Izuku blinked, turning to see Ochaco Uraraka leaning across the aisle, her large brown eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and slight concern. "You're awfully quiet. Usually you're muttering up a storm by now. You okay?"

 

Izuku offered a small, reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay, Uraraka. Just... thinking. It’s really out there, isn't it? The camp, I mean. I was looking at the map earlier, and there isn't another town or hero agency for almost a hundred miles."

 

"It is a bit spooky," Uraraka admitted, shivering slightly as she rubbed her arms. "And that storm looks like it's going to be a nasty one. But hey, it'll be cozy once we get a fire going in the lodge, right?"

 

"Right," Izuku nodded, looking down at his scarred hands. He flexed his fingers, feeling the latent, thrumming warmth of One For All resting beneath his skin. No matter what happened, he had his Quirk. He had his strength. He could protect his friends. That was what heroes did.

 

The bus hit a massive pothole, violently jostling the students and eliciting a chorus of yelps and curses. As the vehicle crested the final ridge, the dense treeline finally broke, revealing a wide, uneven clearing nestled in a valley.

 

In the center of the clearing stood their destination.

 

It was a massive, sprawling lodge, but to call it a "training facility" felt like a gross exaggeration. It looked ancient. The wood of the exterior was black with age and rot, the roof sagging in the middle like the spine of a dying animal. Two large, stone chimneys jutted into the darkening sky, though no smoke rose from them. Surrounding the main lodge were a few dilapidated outbuildings—a rusted woodshed, an overgrown outhouse, and what looked like the collapsed remains of a stable.

 

The forest pressed tightly against the edges of the clearing, forming a solid wall of black timber that seemed to lean inward, as if trying to reclaim the space.

 

"You have got to be kidding me," Minoru Mineta squeaked, pressing his face against the glass. "That place looks like a haunted house! Are we sure villains haven't been using it as a hideout? Because it looks exactly like a villain hideout!"

 

"It builds character," Aizawa said, finally unzipping his sleeping bag and standing up as the bus groaned to a halt. The air brakes hissed loudly, the sound startling a flock of crows from the nearby trees. They took to the sky in a flurry of black feathers, cawing frantically. "Everyone, grab your gear. We have less than an hour before that storm hits in full force. I want the lodge secured, generators checked, and firewood gathered before the first drop of rain falls. Move it."

 

The students of Class 1-A filed off the bus, their heavy boots crunching against the dead grass and gravel. The moment Izuku stepped off the transport, the temperature drop hit him like a physical blow. The wind was howling down the mountain pass, carrying with it the sharp, metallic scent of ozone and the damp, earthy smell of decaying leaves.

 

The bus driver, a silent hero-course staff member, didn't even wait for them to fully assemble. The moment the luggage compartment was emptied, the bus was thrown into reverse, executed a tight multi-point turn, and began speeding back down the mountain road, its taillights quickly swallowed by the encroaching gloom.

 

"Well," Sero said, adjusting his backpack. "There goes our ride."

 

"Inside," Aizawa barked, leading the way to the front porch. The wooden steps groaned ominously under his weight. He unlocked the heavy oak door with a rusted iron key, pushing it open. The hinges shrieked in the quiet clearing.

 

The interior of the lodge was exactly as uninviting as the exterior. It was a massive, cavernous room, dominated by a huge stone fireplace at the far end. The air inside was stale, smelling of dust, mildew, and old ash. The walls were lined with taxidermy—faded, moth-eaten heads of deer, bears, and wolves, their glass eyes catching the faint light from the open doorway. Old, heavy wooden furniture was scattered around, covered in thick layers of dust. A grand staircase led up to a second-floor balcony where the sleeping quarters were presumably located.

 

"Creepy," Jiro muttered, rubbing her earjacks together nervously. "I can't hear any wildlife outside. No crickets, no birds... just the wind."

 

"Alright, listen up," Aizawa commanded, drawing their attention. "The main generator is out back, but it's likely out of fuel. Yaoyorozu, I want you and Todoroki to inspect the fireplace and the chimney. Make sure the flue is open and there are no blockages. We'll need a fire to keep warm. Bakugo, Kirishima, clear the dust out of the kitchen and see if the water pump is functional. Midoriya, Uraraka, Mineta."

 

Izuku snapped to attention. "Yes, sir!"

 

"The woodshed out back is empty," Aizawa continued, his dark eyes unreadable. "Before the storm hits, I need you three to go to the perimeter of the clearing and gather as much dry deadwood as you can carry. Do not go deep into the forest. Stay within sight of the lodge. Do you understand?"

 

"Understood!" Uraraka said with a salute.

 

"Why do I have to go out into the creepy woods?" Mineta whimpered, clinging to his own backpack like a shield. "I have short legs! If a bear attacks, I'm prime bite-sized prey!"

 

"Then you'd better run fast," Aizawa said flatly. "Go. The rest of you, start unpacking. We're here for five days. Get comfortable."

 

Izuku dropped his heavy duffel bag near the base of the stairs, keeping only his utility belt strapped to his waist. It contained a heavy-duty flashlight, a first-aid kit, and a few emergency flares. He zipped his green windbreaker up to his chin, feeling the chill seeping through the walls of the lodge.

 

"Ready, Deku?" Uraraka asked, joining him at the door. She had put on a thick pink beanie and gloves.

 

"Yeah. Let's make this quick. Look at the sky."

 

Izuku pointed out the front door. The purple bruising of the clouds had blackened entirely. The forest, which just twenty minutes ago was merely dim, was now plunged into a premature twilight. The wind was picking up, rattling the loose windowpanes of the lodge.

 

The trio stepped off the porch and headed toward the tree line on the eastern side of the lodge. The ground was uneven, choked with thorny brambles and thick, gnarled roots that seemed to snake out of the earth like grasping fingers.

 

"Keep an eye out for fallen branches that aren't too damp," Izuku instructed, pulling out his flashlight and clicking it on. The beam of light cut through the gloom, illuminating the dancing dust and pollen in the air. "We need tinder, too. Pine needles, dry moss, anything that will catch a spark easily."

 

"I'm telling you, this is how horror movies start," Mineta muttered, trailing a few paces behind them, his head swiveling paranoidly. "The cute girl, the nerd, and the handsome comic relief go into the woods to find sticks, and boom! A psycho with a machete jumps out."

 

"You are not handsome," Uraraka sighed, bending down to scoop up an armful of thick, dry branches. She tapped her fingers together, using her Zero Gravity to make the bundle weightless so she could carry a massive pile with ease. "And there are no psychos here, Mineta. It's a U.A. owned property. There are probably motion sensors and cameras hidden everywhere."

 

"Actually," Izuku said, his brow furrowing as he scanned the trees. "I don't think there are. I was looking for them when we arrived. Usually, U.A. training grounds are littered with observation tech. But here... there are no power lines. No satellite dishes. I think Mr. Aizawa was telling the truth. We are completely cut off."

 

A sudden, sharp crack of thunder echoed through the valley, so loud it vibrated in Izuku's chest. Mineta yelped, dropping the two measly sticks he had managed to pick up.

 

"It's just thunder," Izuku said, though his own heart rate had spiked. "Come on, let's keep moving along the tree line. We need a bit more, then we can head back."

 

They walked further along the perimeter, the lodge slowly disappearing behind a thick grove of ancient, weeping willows that seemed out of place in the pine forest. The silence of the woods was profound, broken only by the howling wind and the crunch of their boots.

 

Izuku’s flashlight beam swept across the ground, searching for deadwood, when the light caught on something odd.

 

About thirty yards into the woods, past the designated perimeter, the ground seemed to dip unnaturally. There was a mound of earth, covered in dead, rotting leaves, but its shape was too perfectly rectangular to be a natural formation.

 

"Hey," Izuku muttered, stopping in his tracks. "Do you guys see that?"

 

"See what?" Uraraka asked, trying to peer around her massive, floating bundle of wood.

 

"Over there. It looks like... a structure. Maybe an old root cellar or a bunker."

 

"Aizawa said not to go into the woods," Mineta pointed out, his voice trembling. "He specifically said 'do not go deep into the forest'."

 

"It's not deep, it's right there," Izuku reasoned, his innate curiosity getting the better of him. "Maybe it's part of the training exercise. A hidden objective? Or maybe it's an old storage shed with dry firewood inside. It wouldn't hurt to check it out really quick."

 

Uraraka hesitated, looking back toward the direction of the lodge, which was now obscured by the willows. "I don't know, Deku. The storm is going to break any second."

 

"Just a quick look," Izuku promised, stepping off the perimeter line and venturing into the trees.

 

The moment Izuku crossed the threshold of the deep woods, the air changed. It was an imperceptible shift at first, but then it settled over him like a heavy, wet blanket. The temperature seemed to drop another ten degrees. The wind howling through the branches above didn't sound like wind anymore; it sounded like distant, agonizing wails. Izuku swallowed hard, pushing down the sudden spike of irrational panic in his chest. It's just a forest, he told himself. You've fought villains. You've broken your bones a hundred times. You're not afraid of trees.

 

He reached the mound. Brushing aside the thick layer of wet, decaying leaves with his boot, his foot struck something hard and metallic. He knelt down, shining his flashlight onto the surface.

 

It was a heavy, rusted iron ring, attached to a thick wooden trapdoor. The wood was black and bloated with moisture, covered in a slick layer of green moss. A heavy iron chain was wrapped around the handle, secured by an old, bulky padlock. However, the padlock was broken—shattered, actually, as if struck by a massive force a long time ago.

 

"Deku?" Uraraka called out, stepping up behind him, Mineta cowering behind her legs. "What is it?"

 

"It is a cellar door," Izuku murmured. He reached out, his gloved fingers wrapping around the cold iron ring. He pulled, but the swollen wood was stuck fast in its frame. "It's jammed."

 

"Let me help," Uraraka offered. She dropped her bundle of wood, pressing her fingertips to the wooden surface of the door. "Release!"

 

With her Zero Gravity applied, the massive doors lost their immense weight. Izuku gave the ring another tug, and with a sickening shhhhluuuuck sound—like a boot being pulled from deep mud—the heavy doors groaned open, revealing a square hole of absolute pitch blackness descending into the earth.

 

A sudden draft of air blew up from the darkness, hitting Izuku square in the face.

 

He staggered back, coughing violently. The smell was atrocious. It wasn't just the scent of damp earth and mold. It was the sickly sweet, metallic stench of dried blood, rotting meat, and something else—something ancient and foul, like a crypt that hadn't been opened in centuries.

 

"Oh, god, that smells like death!" Mineta gagged, pinching his nose and backing away. "Nope! No! I am not going down there! There is a dead body down there, I guarantee it!"

 

Izuku wiped his watering eyes with the back of his sleeve, shining his flashlight down into the hole. A set of crumbling stone stairs led down into the gloom. The beam of light couldn't penetrate the heavy, dusty darkness at the bottom.

 

"We should go back," Uraraka said, her voice unusually small. The cheerful optimism she usually carried was entirely absent. "Deku, please. I have a really bad feeling about this."

 

Izuku wanted to agree. Every instinct in his body, every fiber of his being was screaming at him to close the doors, walk away, and never look back. But the analytical, heroic part of his brain—the part that always needed to know, always needed to save—took over.

 

"If there is a body down there, we need to know," Izuku said, his voice steadying. "If this isn't a U.A. site, and someone is hurt, or worse... as heroes in training, we have to investigate. I'll just go down to the bottom of the stairs. You two stay up here."

 

Before Uraraka could protest further, Izuku activated One For All. The familiar, comforting surge of power washed over him, green lightning crackling around his body in a gentle 5% Full Cowl. The glow of his Quirk provided a small aura of light in the dim forest, and the sheer power of it made him feel safer.

 

He took the first step down. The stone groaned under his weight.

 

Step by step, Izuku descended into the earth. The air grew colder, the smell more overpowering. The walls of the stairwell were slick with condensation, strange black roots bursting through the mortar, dangling like dead veins.

 

When his boots finally hit the flat dirt floor of the cellar, he swept his flashlight around the room.

 

It was a surprisingly large space, carved directly out of the bedrock. Wooden support beams held up the low ceiling. It didn't look like a root cellar for food. It looked like an improvised study or a madman's laboratory.

 

In the center of the room sat a heavy wooden desk, littered with debris. The walls were covered in crude, frenzied charcoal drawings. Izuku stepped closer, his green lightning illuminating the sketches. They were horrifying. Depictions of grotesque, humanoid figures with twisted limbs, elongated jaws, and hollow, white eyes. Some of the drawings showed people tearing themselves apart; others showed dark, swirling vortexes in the sky.

 

"What is this place?" Izuku whispered to himself.

 

"Deku?" Uraraka's voice echoed down the stairwell, sounding muffled and distant. "Are you okay? Do you see anything?"

 

"I'm fine!" Izuku called back, his voice echoing weirdly in the subterranean space. "It looks like... an old office? There are papers everywhere."

 

Izuku approached the central desk. It was covered in dust, cobwebs, and scattered, yellowing parchment. Sitting dead center on the desk were two items.

 

The first was an old, bulky reel-to-reel tape recorder. It looked like something out of the 1970s, with a heavy metal casing and two large plastic spools of magnetic tape. A microphone was attached to it by a coiled wire.

 

The second item sat on a small, rusted iron pedestal.

 

It was a book.

 

Izuku slowly reached out, shining his flashlight directly onto the tome. It was roughly the size of a large textbook, but the binding was completely wrong. It wasn't leather, at least not any leather Izuku had ever seen. The material was a sickly, pale grayish-brown. It was stretched tight, stitched together with what looked like thick, black wire or dried sinew.

 

But it was the cover itself that made Izuku's breath catch in his throat.

 

The stretched material was molded, contorted into the distinct, unmistakable visage of a screaming human face. The empty eye sockets were sunken, the mouth open in a permanent, silent wail of agony.

 

As Izuku stared at the book, the hairs on his arms stood straight up. The green lightning of One For All flickered, sparking erratically, as if the Quirk itself was reacting defensively to the object. A faint, almost imperceptible humming sound seemed to emanate from the book, vibrating in Izuku's teeth.

 

"Deku, I'm coming down!"

 

Izuku jumped as Uraraka's footsteps echoed on the stone stairs. A moment later, she appeared at the bottom, closely followed by a shivering Mineta, who was clinging to the back of her jacket.

 

"I told you to stay up there," Izuku said, trying to shake off the strange trance the book had put him in.

 

"It started raining," Uraraka said, shivering. "Hard. And it's freezing. Did you find—oh my god."

 

Uraraka's eyes locked onto the book on the desk. She took a step back, her hands flying to her mouth. "What... what is that?"

 

"I don't know," Izuku said, stepping around the desk to look at the tape recorder. "It looks like some sort of prop. Maybe from a horror movie? But the drawings on the walls..."

 

Mineta, meanwhile, had scurried away from the book and was looking at the tape recorder. "Hey, look at this antique. My grandpa used to have one of these. You think it works?"

 

"Mineta, don't touch anything," Izuku warned, his instincts flaring again. "We shouldn't disturb a crime scene, if this is one."

 

"It's just a tape," Mineta grumbled, reaching out. "Maybe it explains what this place is. Maybe it's Aizawa leaving us instructions for the survival test! Yeah, that makes sense. 'Find the hidden bunker, listen to the tape.' Very typical U.A. stuff."

 

Before Izuku could grab his hand, Mineta pressed the heavy, clunky 'PLAY' button on the machine.

 

For a moment, there was nothing but a loud, crackling hiss of static as the spools slowly began to turn. The mechanical whirring filled the damp cellar. Then, a voice spoke.

 

It was a man's voice. Older, breathless, and laced with profound, unmistakable terror.

 

"My name... is Professor Raymond Knowby. I am a researcher for the Department of Ancient History at Tokyo University. I am making this recording... in the event that my wife, Henrietta, and I do not survive the night."

 

The trio stood frozen, staring at the slowly spinning spools of tape. The sheer panic in the recorded voice was paralyzing.

 

"Two weeks ago, during an archaeological dig in the ruins of the lost Sumerian city of Kandar, I uncovered a tomb. Within it, I found an artifact of immeasurable, dark power. The book you see before you. The Necronomicon Ex-Mortis. Roughly translated... The Book of the Dead."

 

Izuku's eyes flicked to the flesh-bound book. The face on the cover seemed to look back at him.

 

"The book is bound in human flesh," the recording continued, the professor's voice trembling violently. "And inked in human blood. It deals with demons, demon resurrection, and those forces which roam the forest and the dark bowers of man's domain. The first few pages contain warnings. Warnings I foolishly ignored in the name of academic discovery."

 

A loud crash echoed on the recording, followed by a woman's muffled scream in the background. The professor on the tape began to speak faster, his breathing ragged.

 

"I brought the book here, to this isolated cabin, to study it undisturbed. I spent days translating the ancient Sumerian text. But in vocalizing the incantations... I woke something up. Something in the woods. An ancient, evil spirit that slumbers in the dark. It is out there right now. It has surrounded the cabin. It wants the book. It wants our souls."

 

"Turn it off," Uraraka whispered, her voice shaking, tears welling in her eyes. "Deku, please, turn it off. I'm scared."

 

Izuku reached for the stop button, his hand trembling. But before his fingers could graze the plastic, the voice on the tape shifted. The professor wasn't speaking English or Japanese anymore. He was chanting. His voice had taken on a strange, rhythmic cadence, booming with an unnatural resonance that didn't sound entirely human.

 

"Kunda... Astratta... Montosse... Canda..."

 

The moment the first word was spoken, the atmosphere in the cellar collapsed. The temperature plummeted so fast that Izuku's breath plumed in the air in thick white clouds. The green lightning of One For All abruptly died out, retreating beneath his skin. Izuku gasped, trying to activate his Quirk again, but it felt suffocated, as if a massive, invisible weight was pressing down on his chest.

 

"Kanda... Macos... Tatta... "

 

"Stop it! Stop it!" Mineta screamed, frantically mashing the buttons on the tape recorder. But the machine wouldn't respond. The spools spun faster and faster, the chanting growing louder, echoing off the stone walls until it felt like the voices were inside their heads.

 

"NOS FERATOS! AMEN!"

 

The tape recorder emitted a loud, violent pop, showering sparks across the desk as the machine short-circuited. The cellar was plunged into absolute, suffocating silence.

 

Izuku, Uraraka, and Mineta stood frozen in the dim beam of the dropped flashlight. No one dared to breathe.

 

Then, they heard it.

 

Above them. Outside the cellar.

 

It started as a low, rumbling growl, like a massive predator vibrating its throat. But the sound was coming from everywhere at once—from the soil above their heads, from the roots protruding through the walls, from the very air itself.

 

 

 

[Outside the Cellar - The Forest POV]

 

Deep in the woods, miles from the lodge, the ancient trees suddenly shivered. The rain, which was coming down in sheets, seemed to pause in mid-air.

 

From the dark, muddy earth of the forest floor, an invisible, ethereal force erupted.

 

It was formless, weightless, and entirely composed of pure, unadulterated malice. It rushed through the trees, a rushing, unseen camera perspective tearing through the underbrush. Dead branches snapped and shattered as the unseen entity hurled forward at breakneck speed. It wove through the pines, a low, guttural, demonic roar building in intensity.

 

It moved faster than any Quirk, faster than a speeding car. It crossed the miles of forest in seconds, the trees violently bending and groaning in its wake.

 

The entity crested the ridge, the dilapidated roof of the main lodge coming into view. But it didn't go for the lodge. It sensed the aura of the book. It sensed the fools who had spoken the words.

 

It banked sharply, rushing toward the weeping willows, tearing through their hanging vines like tissue paper. It zeroed in on the open trapdoor of the root cellar.

 

With a deafening, demonic screech that sounded like a thousand voices screaming in agony, the unseen entity dove into the black square of the cellar door.

 

 

 

[Inside the Cellar]

 

Izuku heard the tearing sound a split second before it happened. He looked up toward the stairwell, his eyes widening in pure horror as an invisible force blasted down the stone steps. The wind of its passage was so violent it threw Uraraka backward against the stone wall.

 

"Mineta! Get down!" Izuku screamed, lunging forward.

 

But he was too late.

 

The invisible force slammed squarely into Mineta's chest. The small boy was lifted entirely off his feet, suspended in mid-air above the desk. His eyes snapped wide open, his pupils dilating until his entire eye was black, then rolling back so far only the stark, sickly whites were visible.

 

Mineta's mouth opened impossibly wide, his jaw unhinging with a sickening crack. But the scream that tore from his throat wasn't Mineta's.

 

It was a layered, distorted, demonic roar that shook the very foundations of the cellar. The sound shattered the glass bulbs of their flashlights, plunging them into absolute darkness, save for the sudden, brief flash of lightning from the storm outside.

 

In that single flash of light, Izuku saw Mineta's body contorting. His arms and legs twisted at impossible, broken angles, his spine arching backward as the demonic force took root in his flesh.

 

Then, the darkness returned.

 

And from the pitch blackness of the cellar, a voice spoke. It was Mineta's voice, but warped, raspy, and dripping with malicious glee.

 

"I'll swallow your souls... I'll swallow your souls!"

 

The heavy wooden trapdoors above them slammed shut with a thunderous BOOM, sealing them in the dark.

 

Izuku Midoriya, the boy who dreamed of being the world's greatest hero, realized with a cold, terrifying certainty that no Quirk in the world was going to save them from what had just been unleashed. The Evil had awakened. And they were trapped in the cabin in the woods.

 

The absolute darkness of the root cellar was a physical weight, pressing against Izuku Midoriya’s lungs and suffocating his panicked breaths.

 

Just seconds ago, Mineta had been levitating, his body contorted, screaming with a voice that sounded like a chorus of damned souls. Then, the heavy wooden trapdoors above them had slammed shut, sealing them in the pitch-black earth. Following the thunderous boom of the doors, the horrifying, layered voice vanished.

 

There was a heavy, sickening thud as something hit the dirt floor of the cellar.

 

"Mineta!" Izuku yelled, his voice cracking in the dark.

 

"Deku! I can't see! I can't see!" Uraraka shrieked, her hands blindly grasping in the void until her fingers dug desperately into the wet fabric of Izuku's windbreaker. She was trembling so violently that Izuku could hear her teeth chattering.

 

"Hold on to me," Izuku commanded, forcing a calm into his voice that he absolutely did not feel. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

 

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. He needed light. He needed power. He visualized the glowing, microscopic egg inside his chest, the wellspring of One For All. He coaxed it outward, pushing past the strange, heavy suppression that had choked his Quirk moments before.

 

Five percent. Full Cowl.

 

With a sharp crack, emerald-green lightning erupted from Izuku's body, casting harsh, strobing shadows against the stone walls of the cellar. The sudden illumination revealed the gruesome charcoal drawings, the rusted tape recorder, the flesh-bound book… and Mineta.

 

The diminutive hero-in-training was crumpled in a heap at the base of the stone stairs, completely motionless.

 

Izuku rushed over, dropping to his knees, his green lightning casting an eerie pallor over Mineta's pale face. He grabbed the boy's shoulder and rolled him onto his back. Mineta’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and erratic. The unnatural twisting of his limbs had ceased; he looked entirely normal, save for a thin line of foamy saliva trailing from the corner of his mouth.

 

"Is he… is he dead?" Uraraka whispered, hovering over Izuku’s shoulder, her large eyes wide with unadulterated terror.

 

"No, he's breathing," Izuku said, pressing two fingers to Mineta’s neck. His pulse was racing, thumping frantically against Izuku's fingertips. "He’s unconscious. We need to get him back to the lodge. Right now."

 

Izuku scooped Mineta up in his arms, cradling him against his chest. The boy felt strangely cold, his skin clammy and slick with cold sweat.

 

"The doors are shut!" Uraraka cried, pointing up the stone stairs to the heavy, moss-covered wood that sealed them in.

 

"Get behind me," Izuku said, gritting his teeth.

 

He bounded up the stone steps, his boots slipping slightly on the damp moss. He didn't bother trying to find the iron ring or the handle. He shifted Mineta entirely into his left arm, pulling his right fist back. Red veins pulsed beneath the skin of his arm as he funneled the power of One For All into his knuckles.

 

Detroit… Smash!

 

Izuku punched upward with a fraction of his full strength. The concussive force of the blow struck the swollen wood like an artillery shell. The heavy oak doors exploded outward in a shower of splinters, rusted iron, and wet earth, entirely blown off their hinges.

 

The raging tempest of the storm immediately poured into the opening. Torrential rain lashed down, stinging Izuku’s face like icy needles. The sky above was a chaotic swirl of bruised purple and pitch black, illuminated only by jagged forks of lightning that tore across the heavens.

 

"Let's go! Run!" Izuku shouted over the deafening roar of the wind.

 

He scrambled out of the hole, Uraraka right on his heels. The forest had transformed from a spooky, quiet wood into a raging, violent nightmare. The ancient pines groaned and swayed dangerously in the gale-force winds, their branches whipping about like frenzied claws. The ground had already turned into a thick, clinging mire of mud and dead leaves.

 

Izuku sprinted through the dark, keeping his Quirk active just to light the way, his boots sinking inches into the muck with every step. The heavy rain plastered his hair to his forehead and soaked entirely through his clothes in seconds. He held Mineta tight to his chest, the small boy's head lolling limply over Izuku's arm.

 

What was that? Izuku’s mind raced as he dodged a low-hanging branch. What was that voice? What happened to him?

 

He had fought villains before. He had stared down the dead, decaying eyes of Tomura Shigaraki. He had felt the crushing, overwhelming aura of the Hero Killer, Stain. He had been battered to a bloody pulp by Muscular. But this… this felt fundamentally different. Villains had motives. They had twisted ideologies, tragic pasts, or selfish desires. The invisible force that had swept through that cellar had possessed none of those things. It felt ancient. It felt hungry. It felt like pure, unadulterated hatred.

 

The weeping willows parted, and the massive, dark silhouette of the lodge loomed ahead. Through the heavy downpour, Izuku could see a warm, flickering orange glow spilling from the large front windows. They had a fire going.

 

"Almost there!" Uraraka panted, slipping in the mud but catching herself before she fell.

 

They burst out of the tree line and sprinted across the clearing. Izuku didn't bother knocking. He slammed his shoulder into the heavy oak door, bursting into the main room of the lodge along with a howling gust of wind and a sheet of rain.

 

"Close the door! You're letting the storm in!" Katsuki Bakugo roared from his spot near the massive stone fireplace, where a roaring blaze was successfully casting a warm, comforting light across the dusty room.

 

Izuku ignored him, kicking the door shut behind Uraraka. He stood in the entryway, chest heaving, water pooling around his boots. The green lightning of One For All faded away, leaving him standing in the firelight, drenched, wide-eyed, and clutching Mineta’s limp body.

 

The chatter in the room instantly died.

 

Tenya Iida, who had been organizing a stack of canned goods on a nearby table, dropped a tin of beans. Momo Yaoyorozu, sitting on a dusty sofa, gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

 

"Midoriya? What happened?" Eijiro Kirishima asked, stepping forward, his jovial demeanor evaporating.

 

From the shadows near the staircase, the yellow fabric of a sleeping bag dropped to the floor. Shota Aizawa stepped fully into the light, his dark, tired eyes instantly analyzing the situation. In less than a second, his posture shifted from a fatigued teacher to a Pro Hero on high alert.

 

"Put him on the sofa. Now," Aizawa ordered, his voice slicing through the tense silence of the room.

 

Izuku hurried over, gently laying Mineta onto the plush, dusty cushions of the oversized couch. The rest of Class 1-A immediately crowded around, their faces painted with varying degrees of shock and concern.

 

"Yaoyorozu, medical kit," Aizawa commanded, stepping up to the couch and placing two fingers to the pulse point on Mineta’s neck.

 

"R-Right away, Mr. Aizawa!" Momo stuttered. She lifted the hem of her sweater, her Quirk activating. A soft, glowing light emitted from her exposed skin as a fully stocked red first-aid kit materialized and dropped into her waiting hands. She quickly popped it open, pulling out a stethoscope, a penlight, and a thermometer.

 

"He’s freezing," Izuku said, his voice shaking as the adrenaline began to wear off, leaving him acutely aware of the icy wetness of his own clothes. "He's completely unresponsive."

 

"Did he fall?" Aizawa asked, grabbing the penlight from Momo. He peeled back one of Mineta’s eyelids, flashing the bright beam into his pupil. "Did a tree branch hit him? Tell me exactly what happened."

 

Izuku swallowed hard, looking over at Uraraka. She was standing by the fireplace, shivering violently, her arms wrapped around herself. Tsuyu Asui had draped a dry blanket over her shoulders and was rubbing her back.

 

"We… we went slightly past the perimeter," Izuku confessed, bracing himself for the reprimand. "We found an old root cellar. The door was unlocked. I went down to investigate, and Uraraka and Mineta followed."

 

"I told you to stay out of the deep woods," Aizawa growled, his eyes narrowing. "Continue."

 

"There was… there was a desk," Izuku stammered, the memory of the flesh-bound book flashing behind his eyes. "And a book. And a tape recorder. Mineta pressed play on the tape. A man's voice came on. He said he was an archaeologist. He said he brought a book… the Necronomicon… to the cabin to translate it."

 

Bakugo scoffed loudly, crossing his arms. "What is this, a campfire story? Get to the point, Deku. Did the idiot trip and hit his head or what?"

 

"No!" Uraraka suddenly cried out from the fireplace, her voice shrill and tight. She turned to face the class, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The tape… the man on the tape started chanting in another language! And then the air got so cold. And something came into the cellar! Something invisible! It hit Mineta, and he floated in the air, and he screamed!"

 

A heavy, uncomfortable silence descended over the room. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the violent rattling of the windows as the storm raged outside.

 

"Floated?" Denki Kaminari asked, raising an eyebrow. "Like, Uraraka used her Quirk on him?"

 

"I didn't touch him!" Uraraka sobbed. "His eyes went completely white! His body twisted all wrong, and his voice… it wasn't his voice! He said he was going to swallow our souls!"

 

Several students exchanged uneasy glances.

 

"A hallucination," Shoto Todoroki suggested quietly from his spot leaning against the wall, his mismatched eyes calculating. "A villain with a hallucinogenic gas Quirk, or a mental manipulation Quirk. It would explain the sudden temperature drop, the paranoia, and the visual distortions."

 

"That makes sense," Iida agreed, adjusting his glasses. "Mr. Aizawa, if there is a villain operating in these woods, we must initiate lockdown procedures immediately! We have no cell service to contact the authorities."

 

Aizawa didn't respond right away. He took the stethoscope from Momo and pressed it to Mineta’s chest, listening intently. His brow furrowed deep in concentration. After a long moment, he pulled the earpieces out and let the instrument hang around his neck.

 

"His vitals are stable, but his heart rate is abnormally slow," Aizawa muttered, mostly to himself. He stood up, turning to face the class. The capturing weapon around his neck seemed to loosen slightly, ready to be deployed at a moment's notice. "Todoroki is likely correct. This has the hallmarks of a hallucinogenic Quirk. A mental assault designed to incite panic."

 

"But I didn't breathe anything in!" Izuku protested. "And my Quirk… when the voice started chanting, my Quirk felt like it was being crushed. I couldn't activate it until the… the thing left."

 

"Erasure and suppression Quirks exist, Midoriya," Aizawa said firmly, shutting down the supernatural implications. "We operate on facts, not ghost stories. Until we know more, we assume this is a coordinated villain attack. They’ve cut our communications and isolated us in a storm. Classic siege tactics."

 

Aizawa pointed to the windows. "Sero, tape up every window on the ground floor. Leave no gaps. Shoji, I want you using your Dupli-Arms to monitor the ambient noise outside. If a branch snaps, I want to know about it. Bakugo, Todoroki, you're on door duty. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out. The rest of you, stay in the center of the room by the fire. Keep your eyes on Mineta."

 

"What are you going to do, Sensei?" Mina Ashido asked, her pink skin paling slightly in fear.

 

"I'm going to secure the perimeter of the lodge and check the fuse box," Aizawa said, pulling a heavy-duty flashlight from his utility belt. "If this is a villain, they'll likely try to cut the power next. Do not panic. You are U.A. students. Act like it."

 

With a swish of his dark coat, Aizawa strode toward the back of the lodge, disappearing down a long, dark hallway that led to the kitchen and the rear exit.

 

Class 1-A immediately sprang into action. Sero began shooting thick strips of his reinforced tape across the glass panes, creating makeshift barricades. Shoji moved to the center of the room, blooming several ears from his tentacles, his eyes closed in deep concentration. Bakugo and Todoroki flanked the front door, silent and vigilant.

 

Izuku stripped off his soaked windbreaker, shivering violently. Tsuyu approached him, handing him a dry towel.

 

"Here, Midoriya. You need to dry off, ribbit. Getting sick won't help anyone."

 

"Thanks, Asui," Izuku murmured, vigorously rubbing his wet green curls with the towel.

 

"Call me Tsu," she corrected gently, glancing over at the couch. "Do you really think it wasn't a villain? You sounded… really scared."

 

Izuku looked at Mineta. The small boy was lying perfectly still, the firelight casting long, dancing shadows across his pale face.

 

"I don't know, Tsu," Izuku admitted softly. "Todoroki’s theory makes sense. It’s logical. But… the feeling in that cellar. It didn't feel like a villain. It felt like walking into a graveyard."

 

An hour passed.

 

The storm outside intensified, battering the old lodge with such ferocity that the wooden beams groaned under the strain. Thunder rattled the floorboards, and the rain sounded like handfuls of gravel being thrown against the roof. The temperature inside the main room remained bearable thanks to the fire, but a palpable tension had settled over the students.

 

Izuku sat on the floor near the couch, his knees pulled to his chest. Uraraka sat beside him, wrapped in her blanket, staring blankly into the flames. Tsu sat on the edge of the coffee table directly across from the couch, keeping a watchful eye on Mineta.

 

"He's sweating," Tsu noted, leaning forward.

 

Izuku looked up. Tsu was right. Despite the cool air in the room, Mineta’s forehead was glistening with a thick, greasy sweat. His head twitched slightly to the left. Then to the right.

 

"Mineta?" Tsu asked softly, reaching out a hand. "Are you waking up, ribbit?"

 

Mineta’s eyes fluttered open.

 

Izuku let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The eyes were normal. Dark, teary, and wide with confusion.

 

"W-Where am I?" Mineta rasped, his voice weak and scratchy. He tried to sit up, but groaned in pain, clutching his head. "My head… it feels like it's going to split open."

 

"You're back at the lodge," Izuku said quickly, moving closer to the couch. "You passed out in the cellar. How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?"

 

Mineta blinked, looking around the room at the barricaded windows and the tense faces of his classmates. "I… I remember the tape recorder. I remember the chanting. And then… it was just cold. So cold. Did I pass out?"

 

"Yeah," Uraraka said, relief washing over her face. She managed a weak, watery smile. "You really scared us, Mineta."

 

"I'm sorry," Mineta whimpered, rubbing his temples. He looked pathetic, small, and fragile. "I feel sick. Like I have a terrible fever. I'm so thirsty."

 

"I'll get you some water," Tsu offered kindly. She stood up and walked over to the supply table where Iida had organized the rations, pouring a cup of water from a plastic jug.

 

Izuku watched Mineta carefully. Something felt… off. The boy's demeanor was right—the whining, the fear, the pathetic posture—but there was a stiffness to his movements. He sat perfectly rigid on the couch, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the locations of everyone present. He stared at Bakugo and Todoroki by the door. He stared at Shoji in the center. He stared at the fire.

 

Tsu returned, holding the plastic cup out. "Here, drink this slowly."

 

Mineta didn't take the cup. He just stared at it. Then, very slowly, his gaze drifted up to Tsu's face.

 

The whining, pathetic expression melted away. The muscles in his face went completely slack, erasing all emotion. His dark eyes locked onto hers, unblinking.

 

"Mineta?" Tsu asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

 

When Mineta spoke, the weakness in his voice was gone. It was replaced by a low, vibrating purr. It sounded like Mineta, but infused with a dark, mocking cruelness that the boy had never possessed.

 

"You know what I hate about you, frog?" Mineta whispered.

 

The words were so unexpected, so venomous, that Tsu physically recoiled. "What?"

 

"I hate your big, stupid, unblinking eyes," Mineta continued, his voice dropping an octave, a weird, metallic resonance bleeding into his tone. "I hate the way you pretend to care about these little children. You think you're their mother. But you're just a slimy, pathetic little amphibian. And you're going to die here. You're all going to die here."

 

"Hey!" Izuku shouted, anger flaring as he stood up. "Mineta, snap out of it! This is the hallucinogen talking!"

 

Mineta slowly turned his head to look at Izuku. A slow, sickening grin stretched across his face. It stretched too far. The corners of his mouth pulled back past his teeth, revealing gums and stretching the skin of his cheeks until it looked like it might tear.

 

"Oh, the little hero speaks," Mineta sneered, but the voice layering beneath his own was growing louder—a deep, demonic growl that vibrated in Izuku's chest. "The boy with the borrowed power. You think you can save them? You can't even save yourself, boy."

 

Suddenly, Mineta's body began to convulse.

 

It wasn't a normal seizure. His spine arched backward so violently that his head touched his heels, his body forming a perfect, horrifying 'C' shape. The sound of popping joints and snapping cartilage echoed through the silent room like firecrackers.

 

"Get back!" Bakugo roared, rushing forward, his palms igniting with small explosions. "The villain is controlling him!"

 

Mineta snapped back into a seated position. He looked down at his own hands, giggling. It was a high, manic, hysterical sound that sent ice water through Izuku's veins.

 

"Flesh," Mineta giggled, digging his fingernails into his own thighs, tearing through the fabric of his pants and drawing blood without flinching. "So warm. So fragile."

 

He looked up at Tsu.

 

His eyes were completely, starkly white. There were no pupils, no irises, no blood vessels. Just two orbs of milky, dead white set into his grinning, flushed face.

 

"Let's play, froggie!"

 

With a speed that defied the laws of physics, Deadite-Mineta launched himself off the couch. He didn't jump; he shot forward as if fired from a cannon, a blur of motion accompanied by a shrieking, demonic wail.

 

He slammed into Tsu with the force of a speeding truck. The impact lifted her clean off her feet, sending them both crashing over the coffee table and smashing into the wooden floorboards.

 

"Tsu!" Uraraka screamed.

 

Izuku reacted on pure instinct. Green lightning erupted around him as he pushed One For All to 8%. He lunged across the shattered coffee table, aiming to grab Mineta and pull him off the frog-girl.

 

But as Izuku's hands clamped down on Mineta's shoulders, he felt an impossible resistance. It was like trying to grapple with a solid block of concrete. Mineta, who usually weighed less than a hundred pounds, was immovable.

 

Deadite-Mineta ignored Izuku entirely. He was straddling Tsu, his hands wrapped tight around her throat, choking the life out of her. Tsu was gagging, her hands frantically tearing at Mineta's wrists, but the small boy's grip was like an iron vise.

 

"Get off her!" Izuku roared. He planted his feet, gripping Mineta around the waist, and heaved backward with all his enhanced strength.

 

He managed to rip Mineta off Tsu, but the demon simply twisted mid-air. Instead of falling, Deadite-Mineta contorted his body, swinging a fist around that caught Izuku square in the jaw.

 

The punch hit like a sledgehammer. Izuku was sent flying backward, crashing into a heavy oak bookshelf. Books and dust rained down on him as he crumpled to the floor, his vision swimming with stars, a warm stream of blood trickling from his split lip.

 

He's so strong! Izuku thought, his head ringing. He shouldn't be this strong! His Quirk doesn't grant super strength!

 

"Stand down, villain!" Iida bellowed. The class president engaged his engines, a burst of blue exhaust firing from his calves. He crossed the room in a fraction of a second, aiming a devastating Recipro Burst kick squarely at Mineta's chest, intending to wind him and pin him down.

 

The kick connected with a sickening thud.

 

Under normal circumstances, a kick of that magnitude from Iida would shatter ribs and send a grown man flying through a wall.

 

Deadite-Mineta barely flinched. He stood his ground, taking the full force of the blow. He looked down at Iida's leg, which was still pressed against his chest, and smiled his impossibly wide, bloody grin.

 

"Fast little insect," the demon rasped.

 

Before Iida could retract his leg, Deadite-Mineta grabbed Iida's ankle. With a casual flick of his wrist, he hoisted the tall, armored boy into the air and slammed him brutally into the floorboards. The wood splintered beneath Iida's armor, the air rushing from his lungs in a pained gasp.

 

Deadite-Mineta didn't stop. He raised his foot and stomped down on Iida's engine-calf. The metal exhaust pipes crumpled and warped under the sheer, supernatural force of the blow. Iida screamed in pain.

 

"Die, you little freak!" Bakugo roared, leaping over Iida's prone form. He brought his hands together, sparking a massive, blinding explosion directly in Mineta's face.

 

The blast engulfed the small boy in a sphere of orange flame and black smoke. The concussive wave blew the dust off the rafters and sent the nearby students stumbling backward.

 

Bakugo landed, a fierce, triumphant grin on his face. "Got him."

 

From within the settling smoke, a chilling, layered laughter echoed.

 

"Hot... so hot..."

 

The smoke cleared. Deadite-Mineta stood exactly where he was. The front of his hair was singed away, and the skin on his face and chest was horribly blackened, blistered, and peeling. But he didn't look like he was in pain. He looked ecstatic. He reached up with a blackened hand, casually peeling a large strip of burnt, dead skin from his own cheek, revealing the raw, red meat beneath. He popped the skin into his mouth and chewed.

 

"Delicious," he hissed, his white eyes locking onto Bakugo.

 

Bakugo's triumphant grin vanished, replaced by a look of profound horror. He took a step back. "What... what the hell are you?"

 

"I am the darkness in the woods," the demon growled, dropping to all fours like a feral dog. "I am the rot in the floorboards. I am the thing that waits!"

 

Deadite-Mineta lunged at Bakugo, his jaw unhinging again, ready to tear the explosive boy's throat out.

 

Suddenly, a ribbon of thick, white cloth shot out from the shadows. The capturing weapon wrapped tight around Mineta’s torso and arms, snapping him out of the air mid-lunge and slamming him hard against the stone face of the fireplace.

 

"Enough!"

 

Aizawa stood at the entrance of the hallway, his posture rigid, his hair standing completely on end. His eyes were wide, glowing a fierce, menacing red. He had used Erasure.

 

"Sensei!" Izuku cried out, scrambling to his feet. "He's too strong! He's not feeling pain!"

 

"It doesn't matter," Aizawa said coldly, maintaining absolute eye contact with the writhing, snarling creature pinned against the stone. "Whatever Quirk you're using to control my student, it's gone now. You're powerless. Relinquish control, or I will break every bone in his body."

 

Deadite-Mineta stopped struggling. He hung suspended in the capturing cloth, his head bowed, his face hidden in shadow.

 

For a moment, the room was dead silent, save for the crackling of the fire.

 

Then, a low, wet chuckle began to emanate from the boy.

 

"Quirk?" the layered, demonic voice whispered. It sounded amused. "You think this is biology? You think this is a mutation of the blood?"

 

Aizawa's eyes narrowed. His Quirk was active. He could feel it working. If this was a psychic link, a puppeteer Quirk, or an enhancement Quirk, it should be entirely shut down. The connection should be severed.

 

Deadite-Mineta slowly lifted his head. His white, dead eyes bored directly into Aizawa's glowing red ones.

 

"Your eyes..." the demon purred, smiling its bloody, skinless smile. "They burn so brightly. A little beacon in the dark. But they have no power over the souls of the damned!"

 

With a terrifying, guttural roar, Deadite-Mineta flexed his arms.

 

Aizawa gasped as the capturing weapon—woven from carbon fiber and a special metal alloy, designed to restrain villains with super strength—began to groan and fray.

 

"Impossible," Aizawa whispered, his red eyes widening in shock.

 

SNAP.

 

The capturing cloth exploded into shredded ribbons. Deadite-Mineta burst free, launching himself off the stone fireplace and flying directly at Aizawa.

 

The Pro Hero dropped into a defensive stance, raising his arms to block, expecting a physical blow. But the demon didn't punch.

 

As Deadite-Mineta collided with Aizawa, his unhinged jaw snapped shut around Aizawa's forearm. Teeth, inhumanly sharp and driven by supernatural jaw strength, sank deep through the fabric of the coat, through the muscle, and scraped against the bone.

 

Aizawa let out a strangled cry of agony, stumbling backward. He brought his free hand up, delivering a brutal, open-palmed strike to Mineta's nose, shattering the cartilage with a sickening crunch.

 

The demon didn't let go. It shook its head violently like a rabid pitbull, tearing a massive, jagged chunk of flesh from Aizawa's arm.

 

Blood—bright, crimson, and arterial—sprayed across the dusty floorboards.

 

Aizawa kicked out, a desperate, frantic blow that finally dislodged the creature, sending Deadite-Mineta skidding across the floor.

 

Aizawa collapsed to one knee, clutching his ruined arm. Blood poured through his fingers, pooling rapidly on the floor. His Quirk deactivated, his hair falling limply around his pale, sweating face.

 

"Mr. Aizawa!" Momo screamed, rushing forward, completely abandoning her fear. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands glowing as she frantically tried to create bandages and a tourniquet.

 

Deadite-Mineta tumbled to a halt near the grand staircase. He spat a mouthful of blood and fabric onto the floor, licking his lips with a long, unnaturally pointed tongue.

 

The rest of the class stood frozen, paralyzed by a terror deeper than anything they had experienced at the USJ or the training camp. Their teacher, the man who could shut down any villain with a single look, had just been effortlessly butchered. His Quirk had done nothing.

 

Izuku stared at the demon, his breath hitching in his chest. Aizawa’s Erasure shut down the Quirk factor in a person's DNA. It stopped the biological mechanism that allowed powers to manifest. If Erasure didn't work... then what was happening to Mineta wasn't biological.

 

It wasn't a Quirk.

 

It deals with demons, the professor's voice echoed in Izuku's mind. Demon resurrection, and those forces which roam the forest...

 

"What are you?" Izuku whispered, the realization settling over him like a shroud of ice.

 

Deadite-Mineta laughed, a joyous, cacophonous sound. He scurried backward, his broken nose already seemingly forgotten, his limbs moving with a frantic, spider-like skittering. He reached the wall next to the staircase, where a large, iron grate covered the main ventilation shaft of the lodge.

 

With one hand, the demon ripped the heavy iron grate out of the wall, tossing it aside like a piece of cardboard.

 

He crawled into the dark, square opening of the vent, twisting his head entirely upside down to look back at the horrified students of Class 1-A.

 

"We are the things that were, and shall be again," Deadite-Mineta whispered, his voice echoing from the metal ductwork. "Dead by dawn, heroes... Dead by dawn!"

 

With a final, shrieking laugh, the creature vanished into the darkness of the vents.

 

The sound of his skittering claws faded deep into the walls of the lodge, leaving Class 1-A trapped in the bloody, silent room.

 

The storm raged on outside, the wind howling against the barricaded windows, laughing at the children who thought they were training to fight villains. They weren't fighting villains tonight.

 

They were fighting pure, unadulterated evil. And the night had only just begun.

 

The silence that followed Deadite-Mineta’s retreat into the ventilation shaft was heavier than the storm raging outside. It pressed down on Class 1-A, suffocating and thick, broken only by the ragged, wet gasps of Shota Aizawa.

 

"Sensei!" Momo Yaoyorozu’s scream shattered the paralysis.

 

She threw herself to her knees, sliding in the slick pool of bright arterial blood spreading across the dusty floorboards. Aizawa was slumped against the cold stone of the fireplace, his face entirely drained of color. His right arm was a butchered ruin. The creature that had once been Mineta hadn't just bitten him; it had torn away a massive chunk of muscle, skin, and fabric, exposing the white gleam of bone beneath.

 

"Yaoyorozu..." Aizawa hissed through clenched teeth, his dark eyes rolling back slightly. "Tourniquet. High and tight."

 

"I know, I know, I'm doing it!" Momo cried. Her Quirk flared, the soft light illuminating her terrified, tear-streaked face. She materialized a thick rubber strap and a heavy metal rod, wrapping it just below Aizawa's shoulder. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely twist the rod to tighten it.

 

Izuku snapped out of his shock. "Iida! Shoji! Help her!"

 

Tenya Iida tried to stand, but his left leg collapsed beneath him with a horrific crunch of warped metal. Deadite-Mineta’s stomp had crushed the exhaust pipes of his calf engines, driving the shattered metal deep into his own muscle. Iida let out a strangled groan, falling onto his side. "I... I cannot walk. My leg is severely compromised."

 

"I've got him," Mezo Shoji said, rushing to Iida's side. With his Dupli-Arms, he easily scooped the heavy class president off the floor, carrying him toward the couches.

 

"Deku! The vent!" Katsuki Bakugo roared, his palms still smoking. He pointed to the gaping black hole in the wall where Mineta had vanished. "That little freak is in the walls!"

 

"Sero! Seal it! Seal every vent in this room!" Izuku commanded, his voice taking on a frantic, commanding edge that surprised even himself. The analytical part of his brain was frantically trying to compartmentalize the terror, shoving the supernatural impossibilities into a box so he could function.

 

Hanta Sero didn't hesitate. He shot across the room, his elbows firing thick, overlapping layers of reinforced tape over the broken iron grate. He didn't stop there; he ran to every floor register and ceiling vent, taping them completely shut until the room was a sealed box.

 

"Todoroki, freeze the tape," Izuku added, his eyes darting around the cavernous main room. "Make the barriers solid ice. If he tries to break through, we'll hear the ice shatter."

 

Shoto Todoroki nodded grimly. He moved silently from vent to vent, pressing his right hand against Sero's tape. Frost bloomed outward, freezing the adhesive and turning the barriers into thick, impenetrable blocks of solid ice.

 

Izuku rushed to Aizawa's side. Momo had successfully secured the tourniquet, slowing the catastrophic bleeding, but the wound was horrific. Tsuyu Asui, still trembling from being choked, was kneeling beside them, holding a wad of sterile gauze tightly against the bite radius.

 

"Mr. Aizawa," Izuku said, his voice trembling as he looked at his teacher's pale face. "Your Quirk... it didn't work."

 

Aizawa coughed, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The shock was setting in, his body fighting a losing battle against the massive trauma. "It... wasn't a Quirk, Midoriya. The biological factor... it wasn't there."

 

"What the hell is going on?!" Denki Kaminari yelled, pacing frantically near the center of the room. Small arcs of electricity sparked off his hair, a physical manifestation of his rising panic. "Mineta just bit chunks out of Mr. Aizawa! He threw Iida like a ragdoll! And his eyes... guys, his eyes didn't have pupils! What villain can do that?!"

 

"It's not a villain," Izuku said softly. He stood up, turning to face the terrified faces of his classmates. Eijiro Kirishima, Mina Ashido, Kyoka Jiro, Fumikage Tokoyami—all of them were staring at him, waiting for an explanation, waiting for a logical, hero-centric answer that Izuku didn't have.

 

Izuku reached into the deep, wet pocket of his windbreaker. When he had fled the cellar with Mineta, his instincts had demanded he take evidence. He hadn't touched the flesh-bound book—his Quirk had instinctively repelled it—but he had grabbed the broken tape recorder off the desk, stuffing it into his pocket.

 

He pulled the heavy, rusted machine out. The casing was cracked, and wires hung loosely from the bottom where it had short-circuited.

 

"In the cellar... we found this," Izuku said, holding it up. "There was a book, too. A book bound in... in human flesh."

 

Mina gagged, covering her mouth.

 

"The man on the tape," Uraraka chimed in, her voice hollow and traumatized as she pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "He was a professor. He said he brought the book here to translate it. The Necronomicon. The Book of the Dead."

 

"Book of the Dead?" Bakugo scoffed, though the usual heat behind his anger sounded brittle, defensive. "Are you listening to yourselves? Ghosts and demons aren't real! It's a Quirk! It's some mind-control, illusion-casting bullshit, and the user is hiding out in the woods! We just need to find the bastard and blow his head off!"

 

"Bakugo, you saw him take your explosion directly to the face!" Izuku argued, stepping forward. "He laughed! He peeled his own burnt skin off and ate it! Mr. Aizawa looked right at him, and his strength didn't fade. Erasure erased nothing because there is no Quirk factor in Mineta anymore! Whatever was on that tape... it woke something up. Something that possessed him."

 

"If it’s a possession, how do we reverse it?" Todoroki asked coldly, wiping frost from his hands. "An exorcism? We are heroes in training, not priests."

 

"I... I don't know," Izuku admitted, looking down at the broken tape recorder. "The machine shorted out before the tape finished. The professor was saying an incantation, and then the demon attacked. If there's a way to stop it, to save Mineta, it might be on the rest of this tape."

 

Izuku turned to Momo. Her hands were covered in Aizawa's blood, but her eyes were sharp, focused by the necessity of survival. "Yaoyorozu, can you fix this? Just enough to make the spool play?"

 

Momo wiped her bloody hands on her skirt and took the heavy recorder from Izuku. She inspected the cracked casing, her eyes scanning the exposed circuitry. "The magnetic tape itself seems intact. The motor and the audio output are fried from a massive electrical surge. I... I can create replacement parts, but I need a power source and an amplifier."

 

"I can amplify it," Jiro volunteered, stepping forward. She looked terrified, her earphone jacks trembling slightly, but she stood resolute. "If Yaoyorozu can fix the motor to turn the spools, I can plug my jacks directly into the audio output node. I can use the speakers in my boots to play it for everyone."

 

"Do it," Aizawa croaked from the floor. He was leaning heavily against Tsuyu now. "We need... intel. Need to know what we're fighting."

 

"Kaminari, I'll need a low-voltage charge from you to power the motor once I rebuild it," Momo instructed, sitting cross-legged on the floor and laying the machine in her lap.

 

Kaminari nodded nervously, kneeling beside her.

 

As Momo focused, creating copper wire, small transistors, and gears from her skin to repair the device, Izuku paced the perimeter of the room. The lodge was a massive, open-concept cabin. The grand staircase led up to an open balcony overlooking the main floor, with a dark hallway leading to the bedrooms. The kitchen and rear exits were down another dark hallway to the right.

 

"We're too exposed," Izuku muttered. "If he comes out of the vents upstairs, he has the high ground. Tokoyami, can Dark Shadow sweep the second floor? Make sure all the vents up there are sealed or at least monitored?"

 

"Dark Shadow is already agitated," Tokoyami replied, his red eyes scanning the deep shadows of the vaulted ceiling. "The darkness in this place... it is tainted. But we will do our duty."

 

The avian student released his Quirk. Dark Shadow burst from Tokoyami's chest, massive and writhing, fueled by the dim lighting and the negative emotions in the room. "I don't like it here, Fumikage!" the shadow monster shrieked. "It smells like dead things!"

 

"Just sweep the balcony," Tokoyami ordered firmly.

 

While Dark Shadow scoured the upper level, the main floor descended into a tense, agonizing wait. The only sounds were the howling storm, the crackle of the fireplace, and the quiet, metallic clicks of Momo working on the tape recorder.

 

Fear, pure and primal, began to rot the foundations of Class 1-A's heroic resolve.

 

They were trained to view the world in a specific paradigm: Heroes stop Villains. Villains use Quirks. Quirks obey biological laws. If a villain punches, you dodge. If a villain shoots fire, you use ice. If someone is trapped, you rescue them.

 

But how do you punch a demon? How do you arrest an invisible force that can turn your own friends into unkillable, sadistic monsters?

 

"I've got it," Momo whispered, her voice tight. "The motor is engaged. Jiro, connect to the red and white nodes. Kaminari, just a trickle of electricity to the copper coil. Don't fry it."

 

Jiro knelt, extending her right earphone jack and plugging it precisely into the exposed circuitry Momo indicated. Kaminari placed two fingers on the copper coil, letting a tiny, static spark jump from his skin.

 

The spools on the tape recorder began to slowly rotate.

 

Jiro tapped the amplifier on her leg. Static hissed loudly through the room, followed by the panicked, breathless voice of Professor Knowby.

 

"...NOS FERATOS! AMEN!"

 

Izuku shuddered as the incantation played. That was the moment everything had gone wrong in the cellar.

 

The tape continued, the static clearing slightly.

 

"God forgive me," the professor's recorded voice sobbed. "I have read the passages. I have spoken the words. The evil is awake. Henrietta... my sweet Henrietta... she went to the window, and the trees... the trees broke through. They took her."

 

Uraraka whimpered, pressing her hands over her ears.

 

"She is not my wife anymore," the professor's voice cracked with absolute despair. "She dances in the cellar. She sings with a voice that is not hers. She tells me she is burning. The book... I translated the passages on containment. The demons, the Deadites, they require a living vessel to anchor themselves to this world. They feast on the soul, burrowing into the host's worst fears, their darkest insecurities, until the mind breaks and the demon takes the wheel."

 

Izuku's breath hitched. Worst fears... darkest insecurities. Deadite-Mineta had targeted Tsu immediately. He knew her kind, maternal nature, and he had used it to get close enough to strike.

 

"Conventional weapons do nothing," the recording continued, the sound of heavy, rhythmic banging echoing in the background of the tape—someone, or something, trying to break down a door. "I shot her. I took my hunting rifle and I shot my own wife in the chest. She only laughed. The book is clear. The demon does not feel pain. The host body is merely a meat suit. To stop a Deadite... to sever its connection to the physical plane..."

 

The class leaned in, hanging on every word.

 

"Complete bodily dismemberment," the professor whispered, his voice dead and hollow. "The destruction of the host's physical form. Severing the head. Burning the remains. It is the only way."

 

A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room.

 

Izuku stared at the tape recorder. He felt as though the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

 

"No," Uraraka gasped, shaking her head. "No, no, no. He's saying... to stop Mineta..."

 

"We have to kill him," Todoroki finished, his voice devoid of emotion, though his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were stark white. "Not just kill him. Dismember him."

 

"Bullshit!" Bakugo exploded, kicking a wooden chair so hard it shattered against the wall. "I am not chopping up that little pervert! We're heroes! We don't kill people!"

 

"He's not a person anymore, Bakugo," Tokoyami said grimly as Dark Shadow retreated back into his cloak, trembling. "The professor said the soul is devoured. What is in the walls right now is not Minoru Mineta."

 

"You don't know that!" Kirishima yelled, tears springing to his eyes. "He could still be in there! Fighting it! We can't just give up on a classmate and... and murder him! It’s unmanly! It's villainous!"

 

"We have to restrain him until the pros arrive," Iida reasoned from the couch, clutching his ruined leg. "The storm will pass. We will take him to Tartarus, or a specialized hospital. There has to be a Quirk user out there who can exorcise him."

 

"Did you not see what he did to the capturing weapon?" Aizawa rasped, his eyes fluttering shut. "He tore through carbon fiber like paper. He... he doesn't fatigue." Aizawa took a ragged breath. "If it comes down to it... you protect yourselves. That is an order."

 

Before anyone could argue further, a sound echoed through the room that made everyone's blood run cold.

 

Clang. Scrape. Clang.

 

It was coming from the ventilation shafts. The heavy, metallic echo of claws dragging against sheet metal.

 

The students instantly formed a defensive circle in the center of the room, standing back-to-back. Izuku dropped into a fighting stance, One For All humming beneath his skin at 8%. Bakugo ignited small warning sparks. Todoroki readied his ice.

 

The scraping sound circled the room. It moved from the ceiling vent above the fireplace, to the floor register near the stairs, and finally stopped at the main air intake vent high up on the wall near the balcony.

 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

 

"I know you're listening," the layered, demonic voice of Deadite-Mineta echoed through the tin ductwork. The acoustics of the vents amplified the sound, making it seem like the voice was coming from everywhere at once.

 

"Come out and fight me, you coward!" Bakugo screamed at the vent.

 

A high-pitched, hysterical giggle echoed back. "Oh, Katsuki. Always so angry. Always so loud. Shouting to cover up the pathetic, fragile little ego hiding underneath. Does it hurt, Katsuki?"

 

Bakugo froze. "Shut up."

 

"Does it hurt knowing you ruined the symbol of peace?" Deadite-Mineta crooned, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Does it hurt knowing All Might lost his power because he had to save you? You're not a hero, Katsuki. You're a leech. You suck the life out of everyone around you."

 

"Shut up!" Bakugo roared, raising his hand to blast the vent.

 

"Don't!" Izuku yelled, grabbing Bakugo's wrist. "Don't destroy the vent! If you blow a hole in the wall, he can get out!"

 

Bakugo ripped his arm away, his eyes wild with a mix of fury and profound, hidden guilt. He was breathing heavily, his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

 

"And sweet, poor Ochaco," the voice echoed, shifting targets seamlessly.

 

Uraraka flinched, shrinking back against Izuku.

 

"Why do you want to be a hero, Ochaco? Is it to save people?" The demon laughed, a wet, sloppy sound. "No. It's for money. Filthy, greedy little girl. Your parents are starving, and you're up here playing dress-up. When I swallow your soul, I'm going to wear your face and go visit your parents. I'll make sure they know what a failure you are."

 

"Stop it," Uraraka sobbed, covering her ears. "Please stop it."

 

"This is psychological warfare," Todoroki said evenly, though the ice spreading uncontrollably from his right foot betrayed his anxiety. "It wants us angry. It wants us panicked. Do not listen to it."

 

"Jiro," Izuku whispered urgently, leaning back to look at the rocker girl. "Can you use your jacks? Put them to the wall. Can you track his heartbeat? If we know exactly where he is, we can trap him in a specific section of the vents."

 

Jiro swallowed hard, nodding. She crept toward the nearest wall, uncoiling her earphone jacks. She pressed the metal tips gently against the wood paneling, closing her eyes and concentrating. Her Quirk allowed her to hear the faintest sounds through solid objects.

 

"I'm listening," Jiro whispered. "I hear... the wind outside. I hear the pipes creaking."

 

"Go deeper," Izuku urged. "Listen to the metal vents."

 

Jiro adjusted her jacks, pressing harder. Her brow furrowed. "I don't hear a heartbeat. Midoriya, he doesn't have a heartbeat. But I hear... scurrying. He's moving toward the back hallway. Near the breaker box."

 

"The breaker box?" Kaminari panicked, looking up at the ceiling lights. "If he cuts the power, we're in the dark! I'm the only one who can power the lights, but I can't do the whole lodge at once!"

 

"He knows that," Deadite-Mineta's voice suddenly whispered. But it wasn't coming from the vents.

 

It was coming from right behind Jiro.

 

Jiro gasped, her eyes snapping open. She tried to pull her earphone jacks out of the wall, but she was too late.

 

BOOM!

 

A massive, invisible force slammed into the wall from the inside. The sheer concussive shockwave traveled directly through the wood, through Jiro's earphone jacks, and straight into her eardrums.

 

Jiro screamed—a bloodcurdling shriek of pure agony. She ripped the jacks from the wall, collapsing to the floor and clutching her ears. Blood immediately began to pour through her fingers, staining her hands and the floorboards.

 

"Kyoka!" Momo shrieked, abandoning the tape recorder and rushing to her friend's side.

 

"It's loud!" Jiro sobbed hysterically, her eyes rolling back. "It's so loud! The screaming! They're burning!"

 

"He weaponized her Quirk," Izuku realized with mounting horror. The demon hadn't physically attacked her; it had unleashed a supernatural sonic attack right when she was listening, rupturing her eardrums and flooding her mind with the sounds of hell.

 

The lights overhead flickered wildly.

 

Bzzt. Buzz. Pop.

 

"The power's failing!" Kirishima shouted, looking around frantically.

 

"Kaminari! The breaker!" Iida yelled from the couch. "You have to keep the lights on! Darkness is its advantage!"

 

Kaminari was trembling violently, his eyes darting between the bloody mess of Aizawa's arm, Jiro's bleeding ears, and the dark hallway that led to the utility closet.

 

"I... I can't go back there!" Kaminari stammered, backing away. "He's back there! You heard Jiro! He's near the breaker box!"

 

"I'll go with you," Kirishima offered, hardening his arms, his skin turning jagged and rock-like. "We'll go together. I'll act as your shield. You just pump juice into the system."

 

"No, don't split up!" Izuku warned. "The professor said it preys on isolation!"

 

"If the lights go out, we won't be able to see him coming anyway!" Bakugo argued. "Go, Hair-for-Brains! Take Dunce Face and get the lights stable! I'll cover the hallway!"

 

Kirishima grabbed Kaminari by the collar. "Come on, man! Be a hero! We need you!"

 

Kaminari, terrified but unwilling to let his friends down, nodded jerkily. "O-Okay. Okay. Let's go."

 

Kirishima activated his Hardening over his entire body, turning into a walking tank. He stepped into the dark hallway leading to the kitchen and the utility rooms, Kaminari trailing closely behind him, sparking small flashes of light to illuminate their path. Bakugo stood at the entrance of the hallway, palms raised, ready to blast anything that moved.

 

Izuku stayed with the main group, keeping One For All active, watching the frozen vents. His mind was racing. The rules of engagement were entirely broken. They couldn't use Aizawa's Erasure. They couldn't use Jiro's tracking. Physical attacks barely slowed the creature down.

 

Complete bodily dismemberment.

 

Izuku looked at Momo, who was frantically creating bandages for Jiro's bleeding ears. If it came down to it... could Momo create a weapon capable of that? A sword? A chainsaw? Could Izuku actually wield it against a boy he shared a classroom with? The thought made him nauseous.

 

Down the dark hallway, Kirishima and Kaminari reached the utility closet. The door was slightly ajar.

 

"Stay behind me," Kirishima whispered, his hardened fists raised. He kicked the door open completely.

 

The closet was small, smelling of ozone and old dust. The large, metal breaker box on the wall was open, the main power switch thrown to the 'OFF' position.

 

"He just flipped the switch," Kirishima sighed in relief. "He didn't break the wires. Just flip it back, Kaminari."

 

Kaminari stepped into the tiny room, reaching up toward the metal panel. "Alright. Easy fix."

 

He grabbed the heavy plastic lever and pushed it upward. The lights in the hallway and the main room flickered back to a steady, bright glow.

 

"Got it!" Kaminari smiled, turning back to Kirishima.

 

But Kirishima wasn't looking at him. Kirishima was looking up at the ceiling of the utility closet, his hardened face pale with terror.

 

"Kaminari... move."

 

Kaminari didn't even have time to look up.

 

A hand, small but possessing the crushing strength of a hydraulic press, clamped down on Kaminari's face from the ceiling vent.

 

"Ack!" Kaminari gagged as he was violently yanked upward.

 

"No!" Kirishima roared, lunging forward to grab Kaminari's legs.

 

But as Kirishima stepped into the closet, the heavy metal door slammed shut entirely on its own, propelled by a violent, invisible force. Kirishima smashed face-first into the door, his hardened nose denting the metal.

 

"Kaminari!" Kirishima shouted, pounding on the door. He tried the handle, but it was locked. It wasn't just locked; it felt as though the metal mechanisms inside had fused together.

 

Inside the pitch-black closet, Kaminari was fighting for his life.

 

Deadite-Mineta hung upside down from the vent, his unnatural strength easily lifting Kaminari off the floor by his face. The demon's white eyes glowed faintly in the dark.

 

"Let... go!" Kaminari choked out, his hands grabbing Mineta's wrists.

 

Kaminari let loose a massive surge of electricity—a million volts directed straight into the demon's body. The blue light strobed in the tiny room, the sheer voltage enough to stop an elephant's heart.

 

Deadite-Mineta’s body jerked and spasmed as the electricity surged through him, burning his clothes and searing his flesh. But he didn't let go. In fact, he laughed.

 

"Tickles," the demon whispered, its unhinged jaw opening wide right in front of Kaminari's face.

 

Kaminari's Quirk shorted out, the electricity dying as the boy's panic reached a breaking point. His brain couldn't process the impossibility of the situation.

 

"You're a coward, Denki," the demon hissed, staring directly into Kaminari's eyes. The voice wasn't just in the room anymore; it was inside Kaminari's head. "You act like an idiot because you're terrified of your own power. You fry your own brain so you don't have to face the expectations. You're weak."

 

"Stop..." Kaminari whimpered, tears streaming down his face.

 

"Let me in," the demon commanded, its voice taking on that same heavy, rhythmic cadence from the tape recorder. "Let me take the wheel, Denki. I'll make you so strong. I'll show you how to burn them all."

 

"No... please..."

 

Outside in the hallway, Bakugo had sprinted down to join Kirishima.

 

"Out of the way!" Bakugo yelled. He placed both palms flat against the metal door of the utility closet. "AP SHOT!"

 

A concentrated beam of explosive energy blasted through the door, tearing the metal frame off its hinges. The door flew inward, crashing to the floor.

 

The lights overhead instantly exploded.

 

Every single lightbulb in the lodge shattered simultaneously, raining shards of glass down onto the students. The main room and the hallways were plunged into absolute, crushing darkness, illuminated only by the dying embers of the fireplace.

 

"Kaminari!" Kirishima yelled into the smoking ruin of the closet.

 

It was empty.

 

"He's gone!" Bakugo snarled, looking up at the torn vent in the ceiling. "The bastard pulled him up!"

 

In the main room, absolute chaos erupted. The darkness was the final straw. Panic took over.

 

"Keep together!" Iida yelled from the couch, his voice cracking.

 

"Midoriya, light! We need light!" Uraraka pleaded, clinging to Izuku's arm.

 

Izuku activated Full Cowl, the green lightning illuminating his immediate area, but it wasn't enough to pierce the deep shadows near the ceiling.

 

"Yaoyorozu! Flashlights! Flares!" Aizawa croaked, weakly trying to stand but failing.

 

Momo, sobbing quietly over Jiro's unconscious form, forced her Quirk to activate again. She created a half-dozen red emergency flares, snapping them and tossing them across the floor.

 

The harsh, bleeding red light hissed as the flares skittered across the floorboards, casting long, demonic shadows against the walls.

 

"Where is he?" Todoroki demanded, standing back-to-back with Izuku, ice forming an impromptu shield wall around the wounded.

 

A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the ceiling. Directly above the center of the room.

 

Everyone looked up.

 

The heavy chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling creaked.

 

And then, a body dropped.

 

It landed on the remains of the coffee table with a sickening crunch, crouching on all fours like a gargoyle.

 

It was Denki Kaminari.

 

But the boy they knew was entirely gone.

 

His blonde hair was singed and standing entirely on end, not from his Quirk, but from static electricity generated by pure demonic energy. His skin was pale, mapped with black, necrotic veins that pulsed visibly up his neck.

 

But the most horrifying change was his eyes. They were stark, dead white.

 

"Kaminari..." Kirishima whispered as he and Bakugo slowly backed out of the hallway, entering the main room to see the nightmare before them.

 

Deadite-Kaminari slowly stood up. His joints popped and cracked, his body jerking with unnatural spasms. Blue and black electricity arced violently around his hands, not the bright, chaotic sparks he usually produced, but a dense, controlled, hateful energy.

 

He tilted his head back, staring at the terrified students of Class 1-A with his milky white eyes.

 

A layered, distorted grin stretched across Kaminari's face. When he spoke, it wasn't Mineta's voice. It wasn't Kaminari's voice. It was the Legion.

 

"We are the things that were," Deadite-Kaminari cackled, a massive bolt of black lightning striking the floor near Izuku's feet, scorching the wood. "And shall be again!"

 

The demon raised both hands, electricity dancing wildly between his fingers, illuminating the absolute horror on the faces of the heroes-in-training.

 

"Dead by dawn, heroes!" the creature roared, lunging forward into the red light of the flares. "DEAD BY DAWN!"