What if deku had a op trex quirk that made him instantly number 1 pro hero

The human body is a marvel of biological engineering, an intricate machine shaped by millions of years of evolution. For eighty percent of the global population, this evolution had taken a sudden, miraculous leap forward, manifesting as superhuman abilities dubbed "Quirks." Some could breathe fire. Some could manipulate gravity. Some could run faster than the speed of sound.

 

Izuku Midoriya could do none of these things.

 

He possessed an extra joint in his pinky toe. According to Dr. Tsubasa, a bald, bespectacled man whose apathy had forever branded a four-year-old’s soul, this skeletal redundancy was the undeniable proof of evolutionary stagnation. Izuku was Quirkless. A relic of the past. A baseline human in a world of gods and monsters.

 

Now, at fourteen years old, Izuku walked home through the bustling streets of Musutafu, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched, carrying the weight of that unyielding diagnosis. In his trembling hands, he clutched a standard-issue spiral notebook—Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. The edges of the notebook were charred, the pages warped by water damage, and the scent of burnt caramel lingered on the cover.

 

“If you want to be a hero that badly, there’s a quick way to do it. Believe that you’ll be born with a Quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof of the building!”

 

The words of his childhood friend turned primary tormentor, Katsuki Bakugo, echoed in his ears, a cruel symphony of explosions and laughter. Izuku tightened his grip on the ruined notebook. He had fished it out of a koi pond just moments ago, right after Bakugo had blown it up and tossed it out a third-story window.

 

A swan dive.

 

The cruelty of the suggestion stung, but what hurt more was the underlying truth that the entire world seemed to agree upon. You cannot be a hero without power. Society did not have room for a Quirkless hero.

 

Izuku took a shortcut beneath a concrete overpass, the shadows of the bridge offering a brief, cool respite from the glaring afternoon sun. He sighed, a shaky exhalation that rattled in his chest. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing slightly in the damp tunnel. "What if I actually did it? He'd be charged with instigating suicide. Think before you speak, Kacchan..."

 

He forced a weak smile, attempting to mimic the beaming grin of his idol, the Number One Hero, All Might. Keep smiling. Everything will be okay.

 

A metallic clatter echoed from a nearby manhole cover. Izuku paused.

 

The heavy iron disc rattled, then was thrown aside with a sickening, squelching sound. From the dark depths of the sewer, a mass of dark green, viscous sludge began to erupt. It bubbled and hissed, expanding rapidly until it formed a towering, amorphous mountain of fluid. Two bulbous, yellow eyes snapped open within the muck, followed by a jagged maw of rotting, irregular teeth.

 

"An invisible cloak..." the Sludge Villain gurgled, its voice wet and guttural. "A medium-sized meat suit. Perfect."

 

Izuku’s heart slammed against his ribs. His fight-or-flight response activated, but his legs felt like lead. He took a step back, his red sneakers scraping against the concrete, but it was too late.

 

The villain lunged.

 

A wave of sludge slammed into Izuku, knocking him off his feet. Before he could scream, the foul-tasting muck was forced down his throat and up his nose. It was like drowning in a swamp. The sheer pressure of the sludge invading his lungs was agonizing. He clawed at the fluid, his fingernails scraping uselessly against a liquid that offered no purchase.

 

"Don't worry," the villain purred, the sound vibrating directly against Izuku's eardrums. "I'm just taking over your body. It'll only hurt for about 45 seconds. Then... it'll all be over."

 

Izuku thrashed, panic overriding his rational thought. His vision began to blur, the edges of the world turning dark and fuzzy. I can't breathe... I'm going to die. I'm dying. Somebody... anybody... help!

 

Just as the darkness threatened to consume him completely, the manhole cover rattled again. A towering figure emerged from the shadows, radiating a golden, oppressive pressure that made the very air vibrate.

 

"Fear not, kid!" a booming voice echoed, a sound so resonant and powerful it seemed to shake the concrete pillars of the overpass. "I am here!"

 

The Sludge Villain recoiled in sheer terror. "All Might?!"

 

The giant of a man pulled back his right arm, the muscles bulging against the fabric of his white t-shirt. "TEXAS SMASH!"

 

The pressure of the punch didn't even connect with the villain. The pure, unadulterated wind pressure generated by the swing created a localized hurricane. Izuku felt the sludge being ripped away from him, torn apart by the sheer kinetic force. Air rushed back into his lungs, burning and sweet, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he plummeted into unconsciousness.

 

 

 

When Izuku awoke, it was to the surreal sensation of a massive hand lightly slapping his cheek.

 

"Hey! Wake up! Thought we lost you there!"

 

Izuku blinked, his vision clearing to reveal the chiseled, heroic jawline of All Might himself. The Number One Hero. The Symbol of Peace. Izuku scrambled backward, his heart leaping into his throat.

 

"A-All Might?! You're real! You're here!" Izuku scrambled for his charred notebook. "I need an autograph! Please!" He opened the book, only to find the two-page spread already adorned with a massive, sprawling signature. Izuku bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the pavement. "Thank you! It will be a family heirloom! I'll pass it down for generations!"

 

"Well, I must be off!" All Might declared, patting the pockets of his cargo pants, where two soda bottles filled with the captured Sludge Villain sat securely. "Pro heroes are constantly fighting time as well as enemies!"

 

"Wait!" Izuku cried out, reaching a hand forward. He had a question. A question he had carried in his heart since he was four years old. A question he needed answered by the man who defined heroism. "Wait, please!"

 

All Might bent his knees, preparing to leap. "No time! See you on the flip side!"

 

As the colossal hero launched himself into the sky, propelled by leg strength that defied physics, he felt an unexpected drag. Looking down, he saw the green-haired teenager clinging desperately to his pant leg, his face flapping in the wind pressure.

 

"Hey, hey, hey! Let go! Your fanaticism is too much!" All Might yelled, trying to shake the boy loose.

 

"If I let go now, I'll die!" Izuku screamed, his eyes tearing up from the wind speed.

 

"Right. Good point."

 

A few moments later, they landed on the roof of a nondescript office building. Izuku collapsed onto the gravel, gasping for air, his knees shaking uncontrollably.

 

"That was dangerous, young man," All Might scolded, though his voice was strained. He turned away, a hand pressed against his side. "Now, I must go—"

 

"Wait!" Izuku shouted, forcing himself to his feet. "I need to know! Even if I don't have a Quirk... even if I'm normal... can I ever hope to be someone like you?! Can even a Quirkless person be a hero?!"

 

Silence fell over the rooftop. The wind howled through the antennae, carrying the distant sounds of the city below. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenched so tightly his fingernails dug into his palms. He waited for the reassurance. He waited for the lie that would keep his dream alive.

 

Instead, a thick plume of steam erupted with a sharp hiss.

 

When Izuku opened his eyes, the towering, muscle-bound god of justice was gone. In his place stood a skeletal, emaciated man with sunken cheeks, coughing violently into a handkerchief. Blood splattered against the white cloth.

 

"H-Huh? An imposter?!" Izuku shrieked, scrambling backward.

 

"I am All Might," the skeletal man sighed, wiping his mouth. He sat heavily against the rooftop railing, pulling up his oversized shirt to reveal a horrific, jagged scar that engulfed his entire left side. The flesh was sunken and purple, radiating a deep, structural wrongness. "Five years ago, a villain did this to me. Half my respiratory system was destroyed. I lost my stomach. I can only do hero work for about three hours a day now."

 

Izuku stared, horrified. The invincible Symbol of Peace was broken.

 

"I smile to hide the fear inside," All Might continued, his voice devoid of its usual bombast, sounding terribly weary. "Pro heroes are always risking their lives. Some villains just can't be beaten without power. So, no. I honestly don't think you can become a hero without a Quirk."

 

The words struck Izuku with the force of a physical blow. The world tilted on its axis.

 

"If you want to help people, become a police officer," All Might suggested, walking toward the rooftop access door. "They get mocked for receiving villains at the door, but it's a fine profession. It's not bad to dream, young man. But you have to consider what's realistic."

 

The heavy metal door slammed shut, the echo ringing in Izuku's ears.

 

Consider what's realistic.

 

Izuku stood frozen on the rooftop for what felt like hours. The sky above Musutafu began to transition from a brilliant afternoon blue to the fiery oranges and bruised purples of dusk. The golden light offered no warmth. His dream, the fragile, foolish thing he had nurtured for a decade in the face of mockery and despair, had just been crushed beneath the heel of his idol.

 

Eventually, muscle memory took over. Izuku navigated the stairwell, exited the building, and began the long walk home. His mind was entirely blank. The notebook in his hand felt like a lead weight.

 

He didn't realize he was walking toward the sound of explosions until the acrid smell of smoke hit his nose.

 

Izuku stopped, blinking rapidly as his surroundings came into focus. He was standing at the edge of a massive crowd in the Tatooba Shopping District. Sirens wailed, flashing red and blue lights painting the nearby buildings. A block of shops was engulfed in roaring flames.

 

"What's going on?" a bystander muttered near him. "A villain attack?"

 

"Yeah, some guy made of sludge," another replied. "He grabbed a middle schooler as a hostage. The pros can't get close."

 

Sludge? Izuku’s blood ran cold. He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed grunts of the onlookers. He reached the front line, cordoned off by yellow police tape.

 

There, in the center of the flaming street, was the Sludge Villain. And it was massive—twice the size it had been under the bridge.

 

It must have dropped out of All Might's pocket when I grabbed his leg, Izuku realized, nausea rolling through his stomach. This is my fault.

 

He looked around frantically. Death Arms, a hero with immense physical strength, was struggling to lift debris. Kamui Woods was holding back the crowd, unable to get close because his wooden body would catch fire. Mt. Lady, the giant heroine, was stuck at an intersection, complaining that she needed a two-lane road to get through.

 

They were all standing there. Watching. Waiting for someone with a suitable Quirk to arrive.

 

Why aren't they doing anything?! Izuku thought, trembling.

 

Then, the Sludge Villain shifted, and Izuku saw the hostage.

 

Trapped within the suffocating mass of green muck, struggling with every ounce of his being, was Katsuki Bakugo. The ash-blonde boy was furiously setting off explosions from his palms, trying to blast his way out, but the attacks only fed the fires around them.

 

For a split second, Bakugo stopped struggling. His red eyes, normally burning with arrogance and rage, locked onto Izuku’s in the crowd. In that singular moment, Izuku didn't see a bully. He didn't see the boy who had told him to take a swan dive.

 

He saw a kid who was terrified. He saw someone pleading for help.

 

Before his brain could process what he was doing, before rational thought or the memory of All Might's rejection could stop him, Izuku Midoriya slipped under the police tape and sprinted toward the blazing inferno.

 

"Hey! You fool! Stop!" Death Arms roared.

 

Izuku didn't hear him. The roar of the flames drowned out the world. His legs moved of their own accord. His mind was a frantic, screaming mess. What am I doing?! Why am I running?! I don't have a Quirk! I can't do anything!

 

He tore his yellow backpack from his shoulders, gripping it by the strap, and hurled it with all his meager strength. The bag unzipped mid-air, a heavy, metal pencil box flying out and striking the Sludge Villain squarely in its bulbous yellow eye.

 

The villain roared in pain, its grip loosening just enough for Bakugo's mouth to break the surface.

 

"Deku?!" Bakugo coughed, hacking up vile fluid. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

 

"My legs just moved on their own!" Izuku screamed, his hands plunging into the burning sludge, clawing desperately at the liquid. It burned his skin, the friction tearing at his cuticles, but he didn't stop. Tears streamed down his freckled face. "You looked like you needed saving, Kacchan!"

 

The Sludge Villain recovered, its eye narrowing in furious recognition. "You! You're that little brat from earlier! I'll crush you!"

 

A massive tendril of solidifying muck reared back, poised to smash Izuku into a bloody smear on the asphalt.

 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

 

Izuku stared at the descending tendril. He felt the intense, blistering heat of the alleyway fires against his back. He heard the panicked screams of the pro heroes rushing in too late. He felt the wet, disgusting texture of the sludge coating his hands.

 

And in that fraction of a second, entirely submerged in an abyss of sheer terror, adrenaline, and an absolute, uncompromising desire to save, a locked door deep within Izuku Midoriya’s genetic code was violently kicked open.

 

Generations ago, an evolutionary mutation had occurred in his bloodline. A quirk factor so incredibly dense, so fundamentally altering, that the human body required an astronomical amount of biological stress to unlock it. It was a failsafe, designed to ensure the host body wouldn't tear itself apart prematurely. Izuku had lived fourteen years in a state of constant, low-level stress, but this—this absolute proximity to death, combined with an unyielding heroic will—was the catalyst.

 

Deep within his cells, dormant DNA sequences ignited. It was not a spark; it was a biological supernova.

 

The Quirk Factor did not simply activate. It detonated.

 

Izuku gasped, not for air, but as if his lungs were trying to inhale the entire world. The temperature around him skyrocketed, not from the fires, but from his own core body heat. His blood boiled. His heart, previously beating at a rapid hum, began to slam like a war drum, echoing audibly over the crackle of the flames.

 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

 

"What the...?" the Sludge Villain muttered, its tendril halting inches from Izuku's face.

 

A searing, emerald-green light erupted from Izuku’s pores. The sheer kinetic force of the energy blew the Sludge Villain back a dozen feet, ripping Bakugo completely free of the muck. The blonde boy tumbled across the asphalt, coughing and gasping, looking up in shock at the epicenter of the light.

 

"Deku...?" Bakugo wheezed.

 

Izuku couldn't answer. He was screaming, but the sound didn't belong to a human boy. It was a guttural, earth-shaking vibration that resonated in the chest cavities of everyone within a five-mile radius.

 

His bones snapped, fractured, and instantly healed, multiplying in density and size at an exponential, terrifying rate. His school uniform shredded into confetti. The skin on his arms tore open, not bleeding, but revealing thick, armor-plated, emerald-green scales beneath.

 

He was growing. Ten feet. Twenty feet. Thirty feet.

 

The surrounding buildings groaned as a massive, reptilian tail, thicker than a city bus and lined with jagged, defensive scutes, whipped out, shattering a nearby streetlight into a shower of sparks. Massive, pillar-like legs, ending in three taloned toes that dug deep into the bedrock of the street, stomped down, creating a localized earthquake that knocked the pro heroes off their feet.

 

Forty feet. Fifty feet.

 

The transformation halted with a final, violent expulsion of steam and kinetic energy that blew out every glass window on the block.

 

Silence descended upon Tatooba Shopping District. The sirens seemed muted. The fires seemed small.

 

Standing in the center of the intersection, entirely dwarfing the four-story commercial buildings around him, was a god out of prehistory.

 

It was a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but hyper-evolved, biologically optimized into a Kaiju-class nightmare. Its scales were a dark, mottled green, glowing with an internal, radioactive emerald luminescence along its dorsal ridge. Its massive skull was built like a battering ram, lined with teeth the size of greatswords. It stood bipedal, its heavy, muscular tail swishing slowly, destroying cars as if they were made of tin foil.

 

But it wasn't just its size that froze the world. It was the presence.

 

The Quirk—Apex Tyrant—emitted an invisible, biological frequency. An 'Apex Aura'. To anyone with hostile intent, or to anyone standing in its shadow, it triggered the most primal, deeply buried instinct in the mammalian brain: the absolute, genetic certainty that they were prey, and they were in the presence of the ultimate predator.

 

Mt. Lady, staring up at the beast that dwarfed even her giant form, felt her knees buckle. She collapsed, her breath hitching, tears pricking her eyes from sheer, instinctual terror.

 

Death Arms dropped the debris he was holding, his muscular arms trembling violently. "What... what is that?"

 

Bakugo, lying on the ground just beneath the creature's massive foot, couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. The aura pressed down on him like physical gravity. He stared up at the monstrous beast, his arrogant mind utterly shattered by a power so unfathomably vast it defied logic.

 

Inside the beast, Izuku’s consciousness was swimming in a sea of primal instinct and sensory overload. His vision was incredible; he could see the individual scales on a moth fluttering two blocks away. He could smell the fear pheromones wafting off the crowd. He felt heavy, yet impossibly powerful. He looked down, his massive, glowing green eyes locking onto the Sludge Villain.

 

The villain, previously a towering mass of muck, now looked like a puddle of spilled soup.

 

"N-No way..." the Sludge Villain gurgled, its eyes wide with a terror so profound its fluid body began to lose cohesion. "You... you were just a Quirkless brat! What are you?!"

 

Izuku didn't know how to speak in this form. He didn't know how to articulate the absolute fury that bubbled within his reptilian chest. He had wanted to save Kacchan. He had wanted the villain gone.

 

The prehistoric beast opened its massive jaws. The muscles in its thick neck contracted. It drew in a breath that created a literal vacuum in the street, sucking the flames from the burning buildings into its maw, snuffing out the fires instantly.

 

And then, Izuku roared.

 

It was not a sound. It was an apocalyptic event.

 

The Primal Roar erupted from the beast's throat. A concentrated shockwave of sonic energy, friction, and pure kinetic force tore through the air. The sound barrier shattered instantly, creating a visible ring of condensation that exploded outward.

 

The Sludge Villain didn't even have time to scream. The sheer vibrational frequency of the roar hit the liquid mass, and physics took over. The sludge vibrated at such an intense speed that the liquid rapidly boiled, vaporized, and was atomized on a cellular level. In a fraction of a second, the villain was entirely erased from existence, leaving nothing but a faint, foul-smelling mist that was quickly blown away by the resulting hurricane-force winds.

 

The shockwave didn't stop there. It traveled upward, striking the low-hanging cloud cover that had gathered over Musutafu. The clouds were violently violently violently ripped apart, parting in a perfect, circular ring that spanned miles, revealing a brilliant, starry twilight sky.

 

The roar faded, echoing off the distant mountains, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.

 

The villain was gone. The fires were out. The clouds were cleared.

 

Izuku, blinking his massive, glowing eyes, looked at the destruction he had caused. The street was torn up, windows were shattered, and everyone was staring at him with a mixture of absolute awe and pants-wetting terror.

 

Oh no, Izuku’s internal voice squeaked in a panic. I caused collateral damage! I'm a monster! They're going to arrest me! Wait, how do I turn this off? How do I shrink? Make me small! Make me small!

 

The biological engine within him, highly responsive to his emotional state, obeyed.

 

The fifty-foot behemoth began to emit a massive cloud of hissing, superheated steam. The giant form collapsed inward, shrinking rapidly. The scales dissolved into light, the bones retracted, and the colossal mass evaporated.

 

When the steam finally cleared, a fourteen-year-old boy was kneeling in the center of a cratered street. Izuku Midoriya was shivering, completely unharmed, but owing to the nature of his transformation, entirely and unapologetically naked.

 

He blinked, looking down at his bare skin, then slowly looked up at the hundreds of people staring at him. He looked down at Bakugo, who was staring at him as if he had just witnessed God descend from the heavens.

 

"Eep!" Izuku yelped, a high-pitched, thoroughly un-heroic sound. He instinctively grabbed a discarded piece of cardboard from a smashed vending machine to cover his lower half. His face turned a shade of red that rivaled a stop sign. "I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I just wanted to help!"

 

In the crowd, hundreds of cell phones were raised, their red recording lights blinking ominously.

 

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. The contrast between the apocalyptic, fifty-foot hyper-predator that had just vaporized a villain by yelling at it, and the stuttering, blushing, naked teenager trying to hide behind a piece of cardboard, was too much for the human brain to process.

 

From the back of the crowd, a skeletal man with blonde hair stood frozen, his jaw hanging open, a handkerchief stained with blood forgotten in his hand. Toshinori Yagi, All Might, stared at the boy he had dismissed only an hour ago.

 

He... he didn't just have a Quirk, All Might thought, his mind reeling as he calculated the sheer force of the roar he had just witnessed. That output... it dwarfed my Texas Smash. It dwarfed the United States of Smash. He completely changed the weather system over the city by opening his mouth.

 

The world was entirely silent, save for the quiet, embarrassed sniffling of Izuku Midoriya.

 

Then, someone in the crowd dropped their phone. It hit the pavement with a sharp crack.

 

The spell broke.

 

The crowd erupted. It was not a cheer; it was a cacophony of shrieks, gasps, and frantic yelling. The pro heroes scrambled forward, not to arrest Izuku, but to throw a jacket over him and form a protective barrier around the most powerful entity to ever walk the streets of Japan.

 

Within minutes, the footage hit the internet.

 

 

 

The internet is a volatile place, but the video of the "Tatooba Incident" broke it. Literally. Major video hosting servers crashed within an hour due to unprecedented traffic.

 

The footage was clear, shot from multiple angles in high definition. It showed a Quirkless-looking kid charging a villain, a burst of emerald light, and the manifestation of a Kaiju that defied the laws of conservation of mass. It showed the roar that atomized a villain and cleared the sky.

 

By midnight, Izuku Midoriya was the most famous person on the planet.

 

At the headquarters of the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC) in Tokyo, panic was the order of the night. The President of the HPSC, a stern woman with a perpetually tight bun, stared at the massive screen in the war room, replaying the roar for the fiftieth time.

 

"Analyze the power output," she ordered, her voice trembling slightly.

 

A team of exhausted analysts typed furiously. "Ma'am, based on the barometric pressure change and the destruction of the villain's cellular structure... the kinetic energy released in that single roar exceeds the strongest recorded output of All Might by approximately... four hundred percent."

 

The room went dead silent.

 

"Four hundred percent," the President repeated, her mouth suddenly dry. "And he's... fourteen?"

 

"Yes, ma'am. Izuku Midoriya. Middle school student. Previously registered as Quirkless."

 

"If a villain syndicate gets to him first," a senior executive whispered, wiping sweat from his brow. "If All For One somehow finds out about this kid... society is finished. He could level Tokyo by sneezing."

 

"We cannot let that happen," the President stated, her eyes narrowing. "We need to secure him. We need to control the narrative. We need him on our side, immediately."

 

"But he's unlicensed! He's a child! The public backlash of utilizing a minor—"

 

"Did you see the online polls?!" another analyst shouted, pointing to a rapidly updating graph on a secondary monitor. "The public doesn't care! They are terrified, and their terror has instantly translated into worship! The hashtag TyrantGod is trending worldwide. His approval rating is at ninety-nine percent! They don't view him as a child; they view him as a nuclear deterrent!"

 

The President slammed her hands on the table. "Fast-track him. I don't care what laws you have to bend. I don't care what red tape you have to cut. Issue him a Provisional, hell, a Full Pro Hero License by tomorrow morning. Draft a contract his mother can't refuse. Get All Might on the phone. Now!"

 

 

 

Three days later, the Midoriya household was completely surrounded by military police, HPSC agents, and thousands of screaming fans.

 

Inside the small apartment, Inko Midoriya was sobbing uncontrollably, clutching a massive, novelty-sized check that had been unceremoniously handed to her by men in black suits. Izuku sat on the couch, wearing a specially tailored, highly durable track suit provided by the government, staring blankly at the television.

 

He was in shock.

 

The news anchor on the screen, a woman with prominent horns, was speaking with breathless excitement. "In an unprecedented move, the Hero Public Safety Commission has bypassed the traditional UA Academy track for the young hero known as 'Deku'. Following the Tatooba Incident, public demand for the so-called 'Tyrant Hero' has shattered all known metrics."

 

The screen cut to a live press conference. Toshinori Yagi, in his muscular All Might form, stood at a podium. He didn't look angry. He looked profoundly relieved, and a little bit terrified.

 

"Citizens," All Might's booming voice filled the apartment. "For years, I have served as your Symbol of Peace. But true peace requires adaptation. The young man you saw three days ago... his power is absolute. His heart, which I have personally witnessed, is pure. Therefore, I am officially stepping down from active duty."

 

The press room on the television erupted into absolute chaos, but All Might held up a massive hand, silencing them.

 

"I will remain as a consultant and a teacher. But as of today, I gladly pass the mantle. I proudly present to you, the new undisputed Number One Pro Hero of Japan... DEKU, THE TYRANT HERO!"

 

A graphic flashed on the screen, showing the Hero Billboard Chart. All Might dropped to Number 2. Endeavor, previously Number 2, dropped to Number 3, his portrait looking absolutely furious.

 

At the very top, at Number 1, was a hastily taken passport photo of a fourteen-year-old Izuku Midoriya, looking incredibly nervous, his green hair an unkempt mess.

 

Izuku slowly turned his head away from the television, looking at the two stern-faced HPSC agents standing by his kitchen counter.

 

"I... I haven't even taken my middle school finals yet," Izuku whispered, his voice cracking. "I don't know how to do taxes. I don't know how to fight! I just yelled really loud!"

 

"That will not be an issue, Sir," the lead agent said, bowing deeply, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek as he carefully avoided making eye contact. "Your merchandise sales alone have already generated enough revenue to purchase a small island. You have an accountant. Furthermore, for your education, you have been enrolled in UA High School's Class 1-A."

 

"Class 1-A?" Izuku blinked. "But... I'm already Number One. Why do I need to go to hero school?"

 

"You're not going there to learn how to be a hero, Mr. Midoriya," the agent replied, looking incredibly stressed. "You are going there to learn how to control your power so you don't accidentally sink the archipelago of Japan. And, at the insistence of your mother, to have a normal high school experience."

 

Izuku looked at his hands. Just three days ago, he was a Quirkless nobody dreaming of an impossible future. Now, he was the Apex Predator. A god among heroes. The highest-ranking law enforcement official in the country.

 

He swallowed hard. "Okay... but... can I still collect hero trading cards?"

 

The agent bowed again. "Sir, you own the company that prints them now."

 

Izuku Midoriya, the Number One Hero in the world, promptly passed out on the couch.

 

 

 

The alarm clock buzzed at precisely 6:00 AM, a harsh, grating sound that shattered the quiet of the morning. A hand shot out from beneath a All Might themed comforter, moving with a speed that generated a localized gust of wind, and slammed down on the plastic device.

 

The alarm clock didn't just break; it atomized. Plastic shrapnel embedded itself into the reinforced concrete wall of the bedroom. The internal circuitry sparked briefly before dying completely.

 

Izuku Midoriya groaned, pulling the comforter off his face. He sat up, running a hand through his unruly green hair. He blinked at the smoldering crater on his nightstand where his alarm clock used to be.

 

"That’s the fourth one this week," he muttered to himself, a profound sadness in his voice. "I barely even tapped it."

 

He looked down at his hand. To the untrained eye, it was just the hand of a normal, slightly scarred fourteen-year-old boy. But Izuku knew the truth. Beneath the soft, freckled skin, his cellular structure had been permanently, irreversibly altered. The density of his bones, the tensile strength of his muscle fibers, the very kinetic potential of his ligaments—all of it was mutated. The "Apex Tyrant" Quirk wasn't just a switch he flipped; it had retroactively rewritten his baseline DNA to support the physical toll of turning into a fifty-foot prehistoric god.

 

He was, even in his human form, a weapon of mass destruction.

 

"Izuku! Breakfast is ready!" his mother’s voice called from the kitchen. "And please tell me that wasn't another alarm clock! Do you know how expensive those are?!"

 

"I'm sorry, Mom!" Izuku called back, wincing.

 

He slid out of bed, his bare feet hitting the hardwood floor. The floorboards, which had been specially reinforced with titanium joists by the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC) just three days prior, held firm under his steps.

 

His life had become an incomprehensible fever dream. Just ten days ago, they lived in a cramped, drafty apartment in Musutafu. Today, they resided in a heavily fortified penthouse suite at the top of a sleek skyscraper in central Tokyo, courtesy of the HPSC. The building was guarded by no less than forty pro heroes on rotation, complete with anti-aircraft batteries on the roof.

 

It was all for him.

 

Izuku walked to his closet and pulled open the heavy steel doors. Inside hung ten identical uniforms. They weren't standard middle school gakurans, nor were they regular UA high school uniforms. They had been custom-tailored by the foremost support gear engineers in the world. Woven from a blend of carbon nanotubes, Kevlar, and an experimental smart-fabric designed to stretch dynamically, the suit was meant to survive Izuku's transformations without leaving him stark naked in the middle of a disaster zone. The fabric was a deep, forest green with black accents, featuring subtle, hexagonal scale patterns.

 

He dressed carefully, treating his own body as if it were made of fragile glass. He pulled on his signature red sneakers—custom built with shock-absorbing soles that could withstand the impact of a falling meteor—and walked out to the kitchen.

 

Inko Midoriya was flipping pancakes. She wore a floral apron and her hair was tied back in a neat bun. Despite the fact that her son was currently the Number One Pro Hero in the world, generating more merchandise revenue in a week than some small countries produced in a year, Inko remained stubbornly, beautifully normal.

 

"Eat up," she said, sliding a massive stack of pancakes onto his plate. "You need your energy for your first day of high school."

 

Izuku sat down at the reinforced steel dining table. "Mom, I still don't understand why I have to go to school. I had a meeting with the Prime Minister yesterday. I have a press conference with the UN on Thursday. What am I supposed to learn in high school?"

 

Inko turned around, a spatula pointed menacingly at the most powerful being on the planet. "Izuku Midoriya. You listen to me. I don't care if you're the Number One Hero. I don't care if they call you the 'Tyrant God' on the news. You are fourteen years old. You are going to learn algebra. You are going to make friends your own age. And you are going to learn how to interact with society without accidentally blowing up a city block!"

 

Izuku shrank back in his chair. The Apex Aura, a biological frequency that struck terror into the hearts of villains and heroes alike, was utterly useless against a Japanese mother.

 

"Y-Yes, Mom," he stammered.

 

"Good." Inko smiled warmly, her stern demeanor vanishing instantly. She walked over and pinched his cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Izuku. But you've had to grow up so fast this past week. I just... I want you to have a chance to be a kid, even if it's just for a few hours a day. Promise me you'll try?"

 

Izuku looked into his mother's eyes, seeing the genuine worry beneath her smile. His imposter syndrome flared up, a cold knot in his stomach. The world saw him as a savior. A titan. A symbol of absolute power. But inside, he still felt like the Quirkless nerd who just wanted to collect All Might posters.

 

"I promise, Mom," he said softly.

 

He ate his breakfast in record time, grabbed his yellow backpack (which now contained a secure HPSC satellite communicator along with his hero analysis notebooks), and headed for the door.

 

"Have a good day!" Inko called out. "And please try not to roar at any of the teachers!"

 

"I won't!" Izuku yelled back, flushing red.

 

He stepped out of the penthouse and into the private elevator. The doors slid shut, and a man in a sharp black suit standing in the corner gave him a crisp, ninety-degree bow.

 

"Good morning, Sir," the HPSC agent said respectfully.

 

"G-Good morning, Tanaka-san," Izuku replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "You don't have to call me 'Sir'. I'm literally going to high school."

 

"Protocol dictates we address the Number One Hero with the utmost respect, Sir," Agent Tanaka replied without breaking character. "Your escort fleet is waiting in the basement garage. We have three armored SUVs and a decoy vehicle ready to transport you to UA High School."

 

Izuku sighed. "Tanaka-san, please. I'll just take the train. Or jump. Jumping is faster."

 

"Sir, if you jump, the resulting seismic shockwave from your liftoff will shatter every window in this ward. Furthermore, if you take the train, the sheer volume of fans will cause a stampede. Please. The SUVs."

 

"Right. The shockwaves. Forgot about that," Izuku mumbled, deeply embarrassed. "SUVs it is."

 

 

 

The media circus outside the gates of UA High School was unprecedented. Usually, the press gathered on the first day to catch a glimpse of the new heroes-in-training, or perhaps to badger the staff about hiring All Might as a teacher.

 

Today, they were not here for All Might.

 

A convoy of sleek, black, government-issued SUVs rolled up to the front gates. The press surged forward like a tidal wave, microphones extended, camera flashes creating a blinding strobe effect. A dozen HPSC agents in tactical gear stepped out of the lead and trailing vehicles, forming a tight perimeter around the middle SUV.

 

Agent Tanaka opened the door. Izuku Midoriya stepped out.

 

The noise was deafening.

 

"DEKU! Deku, over here!"

"Is it true you can breathe atomic fire?!"

"Are you single?! My daughter is a huge fan!"

"What is your stance on the hero ranking system now that you've broken it?!"

 

Izuku froze, his wide, terrified green eyes darting around the sea of reporters. He pulled his backpack tighter to his chest, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. He raised a hand, offering a weak, trembling wave.

 

"U-Um, hi... please make sure you stay hydrated today, it's very warm out!" he squeaked into a nearby microphone.

 

The reporters violently shoved each other to capture the quote, interpreting his nervous stutter as profound, heroic humility.

 

"Move aside! Clear a path for the Number One!" Tanaka barked, ushering Izuku through the massive UA security gates. Once the heavy metal barrier slid shut, cutting off the press, Izuku let out a long, shuddering breath.

 

"Thank you, Tanaka-san," Izuku breathed.

 

"We will be on standby in a heavily armored bunker beneath the school, Sir. If you sneeze, we will deploy a medical team," Tanaka said with utter seriousness.

 

Izuku didn't know how to respond to that, so he just nodded and began the long walk up the pathway to the colossal main building of UA High.

 

The hallways of the school were massive, designed to accommodate students with gigantification or mutation Quirks. Yet, as Izuku walked the corridors, he felt entirely too large. Not physically, but in presence. Every student he passed stopped dead in their tracks. Whispers erupted like wildfire.

 

"Is that...?"

"Oh my god, it's him."

"I heard he ate a Nomu alive in Hosu."

"Why is he wearing a backpack? Does God need pencils?"

 

Izuku kept his head down, his face burning. He navigating the labyrinthine halls until he finally stood before a massive door marked with a giant red 1-A.

 

He took a deep breath. Just a normal high school student, he chanted in his head. Just a normal kid. Make friends. Learn things. Don't transform into a dinosaur.

 

He reached out and slid the massive door open.

 

Inside, the classroom was already lively. A tall boy with glasses and engines in his calves was aggressively chopping his hands in the air, lecturing someone.

 

"Don't put your feet on the desk!" the boy scolded loudly. "Don't you think that's disrespectful to your upperclassmen and the makers of the desk?!"

 

The target of the lecture scoffed, leaning back in his chair with his feet firmly planted on the wood. Ash-blonde hair, red eyes, and a perpetual scowl. Katsuki Bakugo.

 

"Like I care," Bakugo sneered. "What middle school are you from, you extra?"

 

"I am Tenya Iida from Somei Private Academy!"

 

"Somei? So you're a stuck-up elite, huh? I'll have fun crushing you."

 

"Crushing me?! That's cruel! Do you truly aim to be a hero?!" Iida gasped.

 

Izuku stood in the doorway. He hadn't seen Bakugo since the Tatooba incident. Since he had saved him. The HPSC had completely isolated Izuku for testing and debriefing.

 

Izuku took a step into the room.

 

The heavy, reinforced soles of his custom shoes made a soft thud against the linoleum, but to the heightened senses of the room, it felt like the drop in barometric pressure right before a thunderstorm.

 

The conversation between Iida and Bakugo abruptly died.

 

In fact, all conversation in the room ceased immediately. Twenty pairs of eyes slowly turned toward the doorway.

 

A girl with a round face and a permanent blush, Ochaco Uraraka, dropped her notebook. It hit the floor with a loud slap.

 

A boy with spiky red hair, Eijiro Kirishima, felt his jaw go completely slack.

 

And Katsuki Bakugo... Bakugo froze.

 

When Bakugo looked at the doorway, he didn't just see Izuku Midoriya. He saw the afterimage of the Tatooba incident. His primal brain, the ancient, lizard part of his amygdala, remembered the Apex Aura. It remembered the feeling of being an insect beneath the foot of a god. Bakugo’s arrogant smirk melted off his face, replaced by a pale, sickly pallor. He slowly, mechanically, took his feet off the desk and sat perfectly upright, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't say a word. He couldn't.

 

Izuku felt the weight of the silence. He shifted uncomfortably, clutching the straps of his backpack.

 

"H-Hi," Izuku offered, his voice cracking slightly. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you."

 

Pandemonium.

 

"HOLY CRAP!" Kirishima yelled, leaping out of his desk and pointing. "IT'S HIM! THE TYRANT HERO!"

 

"Why is the Number One Pro Hero in our class?!" a boy with lightning-bolt hair, Denki Kaminari, shrieked, grabbing his head. "Are we going to war?! Is this a draft?!"

 

"He's so manly..." Kirishima wept, actual tears in his eyes.

 

Iida marched forward, moving like a malfunctioning robot, his arms stiff at his sides. He stopped three feet in front of Izuku and executed a bow so deep and forceful he nearly gave himself a concussion. "I am Tenya Iida! It is the highest honor of my family's lineage to share a breathing space with you, Sir!"

 

"P-Please don't bow!" Izuku panicked, waving his hands frantically. "I'm just a student here! Just a normal freshman! Really!"

 

"Normal?!" Uraraka gasped, floating slightly off the floor in her excitement. "You vaporized a villain by yelling at it! I watched the video a hundred times! Can you really turn into a giant dinosaur?!"

 

"Y-Yes, but I'm trying not to do that indoors!" Izuku squeaked, retreating a step.

 

Suddenly, a dry, raspy voice cut through the chaos from the floor near the podium.

 

"If you're just here to fanboy over a classmate, pack up your things and leave."

 

The class jumped. Lying on the floor, encased in a bright yellow sleeping bag that looked alarmingly like a giant caterpillar, was a haggard-looking man with messy black hair and bloodshot eyes. He slowly unzipped the bag and stood up, sipping from a juice pouch.

 

"It took you eight seconds to quiet down," the man muttered, his eyes sweeping over the terrified teens. "Time is limited. You kids aren't rational enough."

 

He stepped up to the podium. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you."

 

The class stared in disbelief. This homeless-looking man was a teacher at the most prestigious hero academy in the country?

 

Aizawa’s tired, apathetic gaze drifted across the room and landed directly on Izuku. Izuku gulped.

 

Aizawa stared at the green-haired boy. Inside, Shota Aizawa was experiencing a profound, soul-crushing despair. When Principal Nezu had informed him that he would be teaching the new Number One Hero—a literal Kaiju with an unquantifiable power output—Aizawa had seriously considered retiring and moving to the mountains to herd goats. His entire teaching philosophy revolved around breaking the arrogance of powerful youths and teaching them the harsh realities of hero work.

 

How, exactly, was he supposed to teach humility to a kid whose raw power mathematically dwarfed a nuclear warhead?

 

Aizawa sighed, a sound that carried the weight of the world. He reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out a stack of gym uniforms.

 

"Right. Let's get to it. Put these on and head out to the training field."

 

 

 

The locker room was a tense environment. Usually, it was a place for boys to bond, brag about their Quirks, and establish a pecking order. But today, the pecking order had been thoroughly obliterated by the presence of an apex predator.

 

Izuku stood in the corner, quietly unzipping his custom suit. The room was deathly quiet.

 

Minoru Mineta, a short boy with purple balls for hair, was trembling in his locker bay. He peeked around the metal door, watching Izuku carefully hang up his shirt.

 

"He... he doesn't look that strong," Mineta whispered to Kaminari. "I mean, he's got muscles, but he's not huge. You think the video was fake?"

 

Izuku turned around to grab his gym shirt. The movement caused the muscles in his back to flex. The sheer density of his mutated musculature was startling up close; his back looked like a topographical map of a mountain range carved from marble. Subtle, faint green scales shimmered along his spine where the skin was thickest.

 

Mineta gulped loudly, shutting his locker and deciding to never, ever speak to Midoriya.

 

Bakugo was changing in the opposite corner, keeping his back to the room. His mind was a chaotic storm of rage, confusion, and fear. Deku. Quirkless, worthless Deku. He lied to me. He must have been hiding it this whole time. Waiting to make a fool out of me. Bakugo ground his teeth, sparking small, angry explosions in his palms. I'll show him. Dinosaur or not, I'm going to surpass him. I'll blast that scaled freak back to the Stone Age!

 

Out on the expansive dirt training field, the sun beat down on Class 1-A. Aizawa stood before them, holding a digital tablet and a baseball.

 

"A Quirk Assessment Test?" the class echoed in confusion.

 

"What about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?" Uraraka asked.

 

"If you're going to become a hero, you don't have time for such leisurely events," Aizawa said flatly. "UA's selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That's also how the teachers run their classes. You kids have been doing standard fitness tests since junior high, where Quirks were prohibited. That's highly irrational. Today, you'll use your Quirks to see what your true physical capabilities are."

 

Aizawa turned his gaze to the front of the group. "Midoriya."

 

Izuku stiffened, standing at attention. "Y-Yes, Sir!"

 

Aizawa looked at his tablet. The HPSC had sent him a classified, three-hundred-page dossier on Midoriya's biology. Aizawa hadn't read it. It was too depressing.

 

"You're currently holding the Number One spot on the Hero Billboard Chart," Aizawa said, his voice dripping with dry irony. The rest of the class leaned in, hanging on his every word. "In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?"

 

"U-Um... sixty-seven meters, Sensei," Izuku replied honestly. That was, of course, before his Quirk awakened and retroactively mutated his entire skeletal structure.

 

"Right," Aizawa said, tossing him the baseball. "Try doing it with your Quirk. You can do whatever you want, as long as you stay in the circle. Hurry up. Give it all you've got."

 

Izuku caught the ball. It felt incredibly small and light in his hand, like a piece of hollow foam. He walked into the chalk circle, feeling the eyes of his classmates burning into his back.

 

He didn't want to use his Quirk. Transforming into his Kaiju state would obliterate the field, probably cause a localized hurricane, and terrify his classmates. The Apex Aura was not something he wanted to unleash on innocent teenagers.

 

"Should I tell him not to destroy the school?" Kaminari whispered to Jirou.

 

"I think Aizawa-sensei has a death wish," Jirou replied, twirling an earphone jack.

 

Izuku stood in the circle, winding up his arm. I don't need to transform. My baseline strength has increased so much since the awakening. I just need to throw it hard.

 

He braced his legs, drawing his arm back.

 

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. The tired teacher's scarf began to levitate around his neck, and his dark eyes flashed a brilliant, glowing red. His Quirk, Erasure, activated, locking onto Izuku. I need to see what his baseline is without that ridiculous monster form, Aizawa thought. If he tries to transform, I'll shut it down. I need to show this class that raw power isn't everything.

 

Izuku felt a strange tingle wash over him, like a static shock, but he ignored it. He focused entirely on the mechanics of the throw. He planted his left foot, twisted his hips, and whipped his right arm forward with a fraction of his current physical strength.

 

CRACK.

 

It wasn't the sound of the ball hitting a bat. It was the sound of the air itself tearing.

 

A massive, concussive shockwave erupted from the pitching mound. A ring of white condensation burst outward as the baseball instantly broke the sound barrier. The sheer wind pressure generated by Izuku's arm swinging forward tore the topsoil off the field, sending a cloud of dust and dirt washing over Class 1-A. Students screamed, covering their faces and bracing themselves against the gale.

 

Aizawa’s hair whipped wildly in the wind, his red, glowing eyes widening in absolute, unfiltered horror.

 

The baseball ignited. The friction of the air against the leather cover was so intense that the ball caught fire, turning into a streaking meteor that shot into the upper atmosphere, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. Within seconds, it vanished into the clouds, completely out of sight.

 

The dust settled slowly. The field was dead silent.

 

Izuku stood in the circle, coughing slightly, waving the dust away from his face. "Oops. I think I used a little too much torque on my shoulder."

 

He looked back at his teacher. "Did the device catch that, Aizawa-sensei?"

 

Aizawa stood frozen, his Quirk deactivating as he blinked. He looked down at the digital measuring device in his hand. The screen was glitching wildly, the numbers rolling like a slot machine before finally settling on a reading.

 

Aizawa slowly turned the screen toward the class.

 

It read: Error: Object has achieved escape velocity. Distance unquantifiable.

 

"He... he threw it into orbit," Aizawa whispered to himself, his soul leaving his body.

 

He looked up at Izuku. "I erased your Quirk. I looked right at you. How did you do that?"

 

Izuku blinked, pointing a finger at his chest. "Oh, um. Your Quirk cancels out the Quirk Factor's activation, right? So you stopped me from turning into my Tyrant form. But my Quirk awakened a few days ago by forcefully mutating my baseline DNA. My bones are denser than steel now. My muscles are restructured. You can't erase a permanent genetic mutation, Sensei. That was just my normal throwing arm."

 

Aizawa stared at him. He looked at the smoking crater where Izuku’s foot had planted. He looked back at the boy.

 

"I'm going back to bed," Aizawa muttered, turning around and burying his face in his capture scarf. "The rest of the tests are self-guided. Don't kill anyone."

 

The class erupted into absolute hysteria.

 

"ESCAPE VELOCITY?!" Iida shrieked, clutching his head. "THAT DEFIES THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!"

 

"He didn't even use his Quirk!" Kirishima yelled, grabbing his own hair. "That was his baseline?! What happens when he transforms?!"

 

Bakugo stood perfectly still. The small, angry explosions in his palms had extinguished. The realization hit him like a physical blow. Deku hadn't even used his power. He hadn't even tried. The gap between them wasn't a mountain; it was a universe.

 

The rest of the assessment test was an exercise in absolute absurdity.

 

For the 50-meter dash, Izuku tried to run normally, but his incredibly dense leg muscles propelled him forward with such force that he shattered the track, crossing the finish line in 1.2 seconds, accompanied by another sonic boom.

 

During the grip strength test, the digital dynamometer handed to him by a terrified looking Shoji simply exploded into metallic dust when Izuku squeezed it.

 

"I'm so sorry!" Izuku apologized profusely to a traumatized Mineta, who was sweeping up the debris. "I'll buy the school a new one!"

 

By the time the tests were over, Izuku sat comfortably at the top of the leaderboards, having broken every single record in UA history without ever actually activating his Quirk. Bakugo placed third, behind Todoroki, and spent the entire afternoon glaring a hole into the back of Izuku’s head in absolute silence.

 

 

 

The transition to standard academics was a jarring shift for Izuku. One moment he was breaking the sound barrier, the next he was sitting in a perfectly normal classroom, staring at a chalkboard covered in complex calculus.

 

Ectoplasm, the math teacher, was lecturing on derivatives. Izuku diligently took notes, chewing on the end of a reinforced titanium pencil the HPSC had provided him so he wouldn't snap regular wood.

 

He actually enjoyed this. The normalcy of it. The quiet scratch of pencils, the hum of the air conditioner, the gentle breeze coming through the open window. For the first time all day, he didn't feel like the Tyrant Hero. He just felt like Izuku Midoriya, high school freshman.

 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

 

A shrill, blaring alarm erupted from the bottom of Izuku’s yellow backpack. The sound was incredibly loud, designed to cut through the noise of a war zone.

 

The entire class jumped. Ectoplasm stopped writing, turning around to look at the source of the noise.

 

Izuku’s face instantly flushed beet red. "I'm so sorry!" he squeaked, diving into his backpack. He pulled out a sleek, heavy-duty black communicator adorned with the HPSC crest. The screen was flashing bright red, displaying a topographical map of a neighboring ward.

 

Izuku pressed the button. "M-Midoriya speaking."

 

The frantic voice of an HPSC dispatcher filled the quiet classroom. "Tyrant! We have a Code Red in the financial district! A villain with an extreme gigantification and earth-manipulation Quirk has emerged from the subway system. He's currently sixty feet tall and tearing down skyscrapers! Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods are on the scene but they are entirely outmatched. Casualties are mounting. We need you now!"

 

Izuku gripped the communicator. The nervous, stuttering boy vanished. In a fraction of a second, his posture straightened, his eyes hardened, and the air temperature in the classroom spiked by five degrees. The shift in his demeanor was so profound that several students instinctively held their breath.

 

"Understood," Izuku said, his voice dropping an octave, devoid of hesitation. "I am in transit. ETA is two minutes."

 

He shoved the communicator into his pocket and stood up from his desk. He looked at Ectoplasm, bowing perfectly at the waist.

 

"Ectoplasm-sensei, I deeply apologize for the interruption. May I please be excused to go stop a Kaiju attack?" Izuku asked, his tone polite, as if he were asking for a hall pass to use the restroom.

 

Ectoplasm, a pro hero himself, stared at the fourteen-year-old boy. He cleared his throat. "Uh... yes. Yes, Midoriya. You are excused. Please... try to minimize the property damage."

 

"Thank you, Sensei. I will return before fourth period."

 

Izuku didn't walk to the door. He turned toward the massive reinforced window at the back of the classroom. He unlatched the lock and slid the window open, letting the warm afternoon air wash over his face.

 

"Wait, Deku!" Uraraka called out, half out of her seat. "Are you going to jump?! We're on the third floor!"

 

Izuku gave her a small, reassuring smile. "It's faster this way."

 

He stepped onto the window sill. He didn't crouch deeply. He didn't wind up. He simply stepped off the ledge and pushed downward with his legs.

 

The structural integrity of the UA building groaned in protest. The shockwave of his launch didn't shatter the glass—thanks to his careful control—but it did blow every loose piece of paper in the classroom into the hallway.

 

By the time the students rushed to the window and looked out, Izuku was already a speck in the sky, soaring over the city skyline like a green missile.

 

 

 

The financial district was a war zone.

 

A monstrous villain, composed entirely of jagged rocks and asphalt, towered over the city streets. He roared, swinging a massive, stone-clad fist into the side of a bank, shattering glass and showering the screaming civilians below with deadly debris.

 

"It's no use!" Kamui Woods yelled, swinging out of the way of falling concrete. "My wood binding just snaps against his rock armor!"

 

"I'm trying, but he's too heavy!" Mt. Lady grunted, her giant form struggling to push back against the villain's leg. She was being pushed back, her boots gouging deep trenches into the street. "If someone doesn't stop him, he's going to level the whole block!"

 

The rock villain laughed, a sound like grinding tectonic plates. "Pathetic heroes! I am a force of nature! I am unstoppable!"

 

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the battlefield.

 

The villain looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun.

 

Descending from the sky with the velocity of an artillery shell was a figure wreathed in green lightning.

 

Izuku Midoriya didn't want to use his full Tyrant form here. The collateral damage of a fifty-foot T-Rex fighting a sixty-foot rock monster in a dense urban environment would be catastrophic. He needed precision. He needed concentrated power.

 

Mid-air, Izuku closed his eyes and tapped into the genetic well of the Apex Tyrant. He didn't kick the door wide open; he just cracked it.

 

His body initiated a partial transformation. The Hybrid Form.

 

His limbs elongated and bulged with terrifying, striated muscle. Thick, emerald scales erupted across his skin, forming an interlocking armor that gleamed in the sunlight. His face elongated slightly, his jaw widening to accommodate rows of sharp, prehistoric teeth. A thick, powerful tail sprouted from his lower back, acting as a massive counterbalance.

 

He didn't grow to fifty feet. He stopped at a towering, imposing ten feet tall. He was a bipedal, muscular, draconian terror, radiating the oppressive, terror-inducing frequency of the Apex Aura.

 

The villain's laughter died instantly. A primal, instinctual chill ran down his rocky spine.

 

Izuku landed in the center of the intersection. He didn't create a crater; he absorbed the kinetic energy of the fall entirely into his mutated legs, landing with a heavy, ominous thud that silenced the street.

 

Mt. Lady gasped, falling backward onto her hands. She recognized that aura. She recognized that green glow.

 

"Tyrant..." she breathed.

 

The rock villain, desperate to shake the overwhelming terror gripping his mind, roared and brought both of his massive stone fists down toward the ten-foot-tall hero, aiming to crush him into dust.

 

"DIE!" the villain screamed.

 

Izuku didn't move. He didn't dodge. He simply raised his right hand, his arm clad in indestructible green scales.

 

The villain's dual fists, weighing several tons and moving at terminal velocity, slammed directly into Izuku’s open palm.

 

BOOM.

 

A shockwave ripped through the street, shattering the remaining windows. Dust and debris exploded outward.

 

When the dust cleared, the civilians and heroes stared in disbelief.

 

Izuku stood perfectly still. The asphalt beneath his feet hadn't even cracked. He had caught the villain's ultimate attack with one hand, without so much as bending his elbow.

 

"Force of nature?" Izuku’s voice was deep, echoing with a dual, guttural resonance. He slowly closed his hand, his taloned fingers digging into the villain's stone fists. "You're just a pebble."

 

With a flick of his wrist, Izuku applied torsion. The kinetic strength of the Hybrid Form was astronomical.

 

The rock villain’s arms violently shattered. Millions of tons of pressure were reversed, traveling up the villain's arms and blowing his rocky armor apart from the inside out. The villain shrieked in agony as his entire upper body crumbled into gravel.

 

Before the villain could fall, Izuku moved. He was a blur of green motion. He crossed the distance instantly, leaped into the air, and spun, bringing his heavy, scaled tail around in a devastating arc.

 

SMASH.

 

The tail connected with the side of the villain's head. The force of the blow didn't just knock the villain out; it literally lifted the sixty-foot colossus off his feet and sent him flying horizontally down an empty avenue, skipping across the asphalt like a stone across a pond, before crashing into an abandoned construction site in a heap of defeated rubble.

 

The fight had lasted exactly three seconds.

 

Silence descended upon the financial district. The civilians peeked out from behind cars and barricades. They looked at the defeated Kaiju, and then they looked at the ten-foot-tall, scaled warrior standing in the intersection.

 

And then, the cheering began. It was deafening.

 

"TYRANT! TYRANT! TYRANT!"

 

Izuku exhaled, a small puff of steam escaping his jagged jaws. He willed the Quirk to deactivate. The scales receded, the muscles shrunk, and within seconds, he was back to being a fourteen-year-old boy in a dusty, custom-tailored UA uniform.

 

He immediately hunched over, his face flushing crimson as the cameras began to flash.

 

"Ah, geez... I made a mess," Izuku muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

Suddenly, a massive shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the giant face of Mt. Lady hovering just inches from his own. She was looking at him with an expression of sheer, unadulterated awe, her cheeks flushed bright pink.

 

"Oh. My. God," Mt. Lady whispered, her giant eyes shining. "You are... you are magnificent. So strong. So primal."

 

"U-Um... thank you, Mt. Lady-san," Izuku stammered, stepping back nervously.

 

She shrunk down to her normal size and practically leaped at him, producing a glossy photograph of herself and a permanent marker. "Please! You have to sign this for me! Make it out to Yu! With a heart!"

 

Izuku’s brain short-circuited. A beautiful pro heroine was asking him for an autograph. He took the marker with trembling hands. "O-Of course! I'm a big fan of your work, actually! Your crowd control techniques are very efficient!"

 

He quickly signed the photo, his handwriting messy from nerves, and handed it back.

 

Mt. Lady clutched it to her chest as if it were the holy grail, entirely ignoring the groans of Kamui Woods behind her.

 

"I have to get back to school!" Izuku squeaked, looking at his watch. "I'm going to miss English with Present Mic!"

 

Without another word, Izuku bent his knees and launched himself back into the sky, leaving a small crater in the intersection and a wildly cheering crowd in his wake.

 

 

 

Back at UA High, Class 1-A was in the middle of fourth period. Present Mic was standing at the podium, enthusiastically explaining the nuances of irregular verbs.

 

"And when we conjugate 'to be' in the past tense, we say—!"

 

Thud.

 

The classroom door slid open.

 

Izuku Midoriya stood in the doorway. His uniform was slightly dusty, and a single leaf was stuck in his unruly green hair. He was breathing normally.

 

He walked to his desk, carefully sliding his yellow backpack onto the floor, and sat down. He pulled out his notebook and pencil, looking up at Present Mic.

 

"Sorry I'm late, Sensei," Izuku said politely. "The traffic was a little heavy."

 

The class stared at him. They had all seen the live news alert on their phones. They knew he had just one-shot a Kaiju villain on the other side of the city.

 

Present Mic blinked behind his orange sunglasses. "Uh... right on, little listener! Glad you could make it! So, irregular verbs!"

 

As the lecture resumed, Izuku sighed quietly, brushing the dirt off his sleeve. Being the Number One Hero was exhausting. Fighting villains was easy; dealing with the press, the fans, and the sheer absurdity of his new life was the real challenge.

 

But as he looked around the classroom, seeing Uraraka give him a covert thumbs-up, and noticing Iida furiously taking notes, he felt a small smile tug at his lips. He was here. He was at UA. He was learning how to be a hero, even if he was already at the top.

 

He glanced over at Bakugo. The blonde boy was staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched, entirely ignoring Izuku. The dynamic had changed forever, and Izuku knew it would take time for both of them to figure out what that meant.

 

For now, he just needed to focus on passing English. After all, what good was an Apex Predator if he couldn't conjugate verbs?

 

Izuku gripped his titanium pencil and began to write. Heavy was the head that wore the crown, especially when you were terrified of accidentally eating your classmates. But he was Izuku Midoriya. He would figure it out.

 

One terrifying, overpowered step at a time.

 

 

 

The Unforeseen Simulation Joint—affectionately known by the students and staff of UA High School as the USJ—was a marvel of modern hero engineering. A colossal dome of glass and steel, it housed several distinct, artificially maintained disaster zones: a raging fire zone, a perpetually freezing snowstorm, a ruined urban center, and a massive central water reservoir. It was built to train the next generation of heroes in the delicate art of disaster relief and civilian rescue.

 

It was not built to house a fifty-foot, hyper-evolved prehistoric apex predator.

 

As the bus carrying Class 1-A pulled up to the massive entrance of the USJ, Izuku Midoriya was currently trying, and failing, to make himself as small as possible. He sat in the very back corner of the bus, his knees pulled tight together, his yellow backpack clutched to his chest like a shield.

 

"Hey, Midoriya," Tsuyu Asui, the blunt, frog-quirked girl of the class, croaked, turning around in her seat. "I say whatever comes to mind. Can I ask you something?"

 

Izuku stiffened. "U-Um, sure, Asui-san."

 

"Call me Tsu. Your Quirk is basically turning into a giant, unstoppable dinosaur, right? But even when you aren't transformed, you're super strong. You threw that ball into orbit." She tapped her chin. "It's a lot like All Might's power, but way scarier. Does it hurt?"

 

The entire bus went silent. Every student leaned in, hanging onto Izuku's every word. In the week since school had started, Izuku had become the undisputed cryptid of Class 1-A. He was polite, incredibly shy, and meticulously careful not to bump into anyone, yet everyone was acutely aware that he was the Number One Hero.

 

"O-Oh, well, no, it doesn't hurt!" Izuku stammered, waving his hands defensively. "My, um, baseline DNA was retroactively mutated when my Quirk Factor activated. So my bones and muscles are just... really dense now. Like, incredibly dense. I have to be very careful when I open doors so I don't rip them off their hinges. I broke four alarm clocks this week just by turning them off."

 

Denki Kaminari whistled. "Man, that's insane. Having all that power... you must feel like a god."

 

"No!" Izuku squeaked, looking horrified. "I feel like a walking liability! I'm constantly terrified I'm going to accidentally step on someone's foot and pulverize their foot! I just want to be normal!"

 

In the seat ahead of them, Katsuki Bakugo ground his teeth. He stared out the window, his red eyes narrowed into hateful slits. A walking liability. He's mocking me. He's sitting there, holding the Number One spot, talking about how hard his life is. Bakugo’s hands twitched, a tiny spark igniting on his palm before he crushed it. The memory of the Tatooba incident—the crushing, suffocating weight of Izuku's Apex Aura—still haunted his nightmares.

 

"We're here. Quiet down," Aizawa's tired voice cut through the chatter.

 

The students filed off the bus and were greeted at the entrance by Thirteen, the Space Hero, who looked like a walking, puffy astronaut suit.

 

"Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint!" Thirteen announced cheerfully. "Before we begin, I have a few things to say. Or rather, one, two, three, four... five things!"

 

Thirteen gave a poignant speech about the dangers of Quirks. "In our superhuman society, Quirks are strictly regulated. But we must never forget that it only takes one wrong move with a powerful Quirk to kill someone."

 

Through the visor of their helmet, Thirteen’s gaze drifted pointedly toward Izuku.

 

Izuku visibly flinched, shrinking behind the towering frame of Shoji. They're talking about me. They're definitely talking about me. I'm a natural disaster in a tracksuit.

 

"Today," Thirteen continued, "you will learn how to use your Quirks to save lives! You will not be using them to fight or destroy!"

 

The class cheered enthusiastically. Izuku let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Rescue training. He could do that. He just had to lift heavy things very carefully.

 

The lights inside the dome suddenly flickered.

 

The massive halogen lamps high above sputtered, emitting a low, electrical whine before snapping off entirely. The central fountain in the plaza below sputtered and died. A strange, heavy silence descended upon the facility, accompanied by an unnatural drop in temperature.

 

"Aizawa-sensei?" Kirishima asked, squinting down at the central plaza. "Is this part of the training? The lights went out."

 

A swirling vortex of purple and black mist began to manifest directly in front of the central fountain. It expanded rapidly, tearing at the fabric of space itself, growing from a pinpoint into a massive, shadowy gateway.

 

Aizawa’s eyes widened. His capture scarf sprang to life, levitating around his shoulders like a nest of angry vipers. "Thirteen! Protect the students! Get them out of here!"

 

"What is it?!" Mina Ashido cried.

 

From the purple mist, a pale, disembodied hand reached out. Then another. Then, a sickly, slouched figure stepped through the portal. He was covered in embalmed hands, gripping his face and arms. Behind him, the mist widened, and dozens—no, hundreds—of heavily armed thugs, mutants, and villains poured into the plaza.

 

"Villains," Aizawa growled, his voice laced with dread. "Don't move! Those are real villains."

 

Down in the plaza, Tomura Shigaraki scratched his neck furiously. He looked around the massive facility, his bloodshot eyes peering through the gaps in the hand covering his face. He looked at the syllabus Kurogiri had stolen.

 

"He's not here," Shigaraki rasped, his voice sounding like sandpaper on glass. "The schedule said All Might would be here. Where is he? Did he undergo a change of plans?"

 

Shigaraki scratched harder, drawing blood. "All this work. We brought so many NPCs. We brought the ultimate cheat code. And the final boss isn't even here."

 

"Tomura Shigaraki," the shadowy vortex, Kurogiri, spoke, his yellow eyes narrowing as he looked up at the staircase where the students stood. "All Might is absent. However... it appears the new Number One is present."

 

Shigaraki stopped scratching. His manic gaze snapped upward, locking onto the green-haired boy standing amongst the terrified teenagers.

 

A twisted, grotesque smile spread across Shigaraki's chapped lips. "Ah... yes. The 'Tyrant'. The glitch in the system that ruined my high score. The media wouldn't shut up about him. They said he was stronger than All Might."

 

Shigaraki chuckled, a dry, wheezing sound. "Perfect. This is even better. We kill the new Number One, the symbol of their precious new era, right in front of these children. It will be a Game Over for hero society."

 

Beside Shigaraki stood a hulking, unnatural abomination. It was a towering mountain of purple muscle, its brain completely exposed within a dome on its head, sporting a sharp beak filled with jagged teeth. The Nomu. The anti-Symbol of Peace, genetically engineered by All For One specifically to withstand 100% of All Might's power.

 

"Nomu," Shigaraki whispered. "Get ready to smash the new boss."

 

Up on the landing, Aizawa was doing the math in his head. There were over a hundred villains down there. He was an underground hero; he specialized in one-on-one combat, not crowd control. He looked at Thirteen, then at the students.

 

"Thirteen, initiate the evacuation. Try to contact the school. I'll hold them off," Aizawa ordered, sliding his yellow goggles over his eyes.

 

"Sensei, you can't!" Izuku blurted out, stepping forward. "Your fighting style is suited for erasing a Quirk and capturing a single target! You can't fight a hundred people at once! It's mathematical suicide!"

 

Aizawa looked back at Izuku. A grim smile tugged at the corner of the tired teacher's mouth. "You can't be a pro hero with only one trick, Midoriya. Leave this to the adults."

 

Aizawa crouched, preparing to leap into the fray.

 

A heavy hand rested on Aizawa's shoulder.

 

Aizawa froze. The hand wasn't pushing him, but the sheer, dense weight of it felt like a steel beam. He turned his head slowly.

 

Izuku Midoriya had stepped past the class. The nervous, stuttering teenager who had been apologizing to a backpack on the bus was gone. His green eyes were completely devoid of panic. They were cold, focused, and glowing with a faint, radioactive emerald light.

 

"Excuse me, Aizawa-sensei," Izuku said softly. The tone of his voice was terrifyingly calm. It wasn't the voice of a student talking to a teacher. It was the voice of an apex predator determining the most efficient way to deal with an infestation. "But you are my teacher. It is my job to learn, and your job to survive so you can grade my papers. I will handle this."

 

"Midoriya, don't be a fool. You can't control that form indoors, you'll bring the dome down on us—" Aizawa started.

 

"I don't need to transform," Izuku interrupted gently.

 

Izuku took one step forward, placing himself at the very edge of the staircase, looking down at the army of villains in the plaza. He took a deep breath.

 

I am the Number One Hero, Izuku thought, forcing down his own imposter syndrome. These villains came here to hurt my friends. They came here to hurt innocent people. I will not allow it.

 

Izuku did not yell. He did not punch. He simply closed his eyes and consciously unlocked the biological gate holding back his Quirk's passive effect.

 

He unleashed the Apex Aura.

 

It didn't manifest as a flash of light or a gust of wind. It manifested as a sudden, catastrophic drop in psychological pressure.

 

To the students standing behind Izuku, they felt a sudden chill, a strange sense of reverence, like standing in the nave of a massive cathedral.

 

But down in the plaza, the villains were directly in the blast zone of a localized, biological terror attack.

 

The human brain, despite all its modern evolutionary advancements, still houses the amygdala—the ancient, reptilian core responsible for the fight-or-flight response. Millions of years ago, when the ancestors of humanity were nothing but small, furry mammals hiding in the underbrush, they possessed an instinctual, genetic terror of the giant, scaly predators that ruled the earth.

 

Izuku's aura aggressively forcibly activated that dormant genetic memory.

 

A thug with a sword Quirk, who was halfway through a battle cry, suddenly choked. His pupils dilated to the point where his eyes looked entirely black. The sword fell from his hands, clattering against the concrete.

 

"W-What..." the thug gasped, his knees violently knocking together. "What is this feeling?"

 

It hit the crowd like a tsunami.

 

Villains began to drop their weapons. They fell to their knees, clutching their chests, their hearts hammering against their ribs at dangerous speeds. The air felt too thick to breathe. Every shadow looked like a gaping maw. The sheer, overwhelming certainty of their own impending deaths crushed their minds.

 

They were not fighting a hero. They were meat, and they had just walked into the slaughterhouse.

 

"No... please... no!" a mutant villain screamed, curling into the fetal position, tears streaming down his face as his body went into shock.

 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

 

Like dominoes, the army of villains began to collapse. Their brains, unable to process the sheer volume of primal terror flooding their nervous systems, simply shut down to protect themselves. They passed out, dozens of them foaming at the mouth, utterly incapacitated by fear alone.

 

Within ten seconds, out of the one hundred and fifty villains that had invaded the USJ, one hundred and forty-seven of them were unconscious on the floor.

 

The silence that followed was deafening.

 

Up on the stairs, Class 1-A stared in absolute, paralyzing shock.

 

"He... he didn't even touch them," Kaminari whispered, his jaw unhinged. "He just stood there. And they all died?!"

 

"They aren't dead," Yaoyorozu gasped, covering her mouth. "They're... they're in a state of catatonic shock. His presence alone overloaded their nervous systems."

 

Bakugo stared at Izuku’s back. He couldn't breathe. The power gap wasn't just physical. Deku could win a war without throwing a single punch.

 

Down in the plaza, only three entities remained standing.

 

Kurogiri, being a creature mostly composed of mist and lacking a traditional biological brain, was immune, though his mist wavered erratically.

 

The Nomu, having been genetically lobotomized to remove fear and pain, simply stood there, staring blankly ahead.

 

And Tomura Shigaraki.

 

Shigaraki was on his knees, his hands trembling violently. He was gasping for air, clutching the hand on his face. The terror had hit him, too. It was suffocating. It was a glitch that shouldn't exist.

 

"No... no, no, no!" Shigaraki shrieked, forcing himself to his feet through sheer, manic willpower. He scratched at his neck so hard skin peeled away. "This is cheating! You're hacking! You're just a kid! A stupid NPC! You don't have this kind of aggro!"

 

Izuku slowly walked down the first flight of stairs. Each heavy step echoed in the silent dome.

 

"Surrender," Izuku said, his voice echoing with that strange, dual-layered resonance. "You have lost. You cannot win here."

 

"I haven't lost!" Shigaraki screamed, pointing a decaying finger at Izuku. "I have the ultimate weapon! Nomu! Kill him! Tear him apart! Show this fake god what real power is!"

 

The Nomu screeched—a horrific, unnatural sound that sounded like twisting metal—and launched itself forward.

 

Its speed was incomprehensible. It was built to match All Might. In a fraction of a second, it crossed the plaza, clearing the stairs in a single leap, and appeared directly in front of Izuku. It drew back a fist bulging with purple, pulsing muscle.

 

"Midoriya! Look out!" Aizawa yelled, desperately trying to lock onto the Nomu with his Erasure, but it was moving too fast.

 

The Nomu's fist connected squarely with Izuku’s chest.

 

The impact sounded like a cannon firing inside a cave. A massive shockwave blasted outward, completely obliterating the concrete staircase beneath them and sending Class 1-A flying backward onto the landing, shielded only by Thirteen's quick use of their Black Hole Quirk to absorb the debris.

 

Dust billowed into the air, obscuring the stairs.

 

Shigaraki laughed maniacally. "See?! Your aura doesn't work on the Nomu! It has Shock Absorption and Super Regeneration! It was built to crush the Symbol of Peace! A little kid like you is just a smear on the pavement!"

 

The dust slowly began to clear.

 

Shigaraki’s laughter died in his throat.

 

Izuku Midoriya was still standing in the exact same spot. He hadn't moved an inch. His feet were firmly planted in the shattered remains of the concrete. His green track suit was slightly torn at the chest, revealing the thick, unblemished skin beneath.

 

He hadn't even crossed his arms to block. He just took the punch.

 

Izuku looked down at the Nomu's fist, currently pressed against his sternum. He tilted his head slightly.

 

"Shock absorption," Izuku muttered, analyzing the data. "And regeneration. Designed to fight All Might. A biological sponge meant to take blunt force trauma."

 

Izuku looked up into the Nomu's exposed, dead eyes.

 

"That's a very impressive build," Izuku said, his voice terrifyingly polite. "Against someone who punches. But I am not All Might."

 

The green light emanating from Izuku’s eyes flared, turning into blinding beacons.

 

"I am the Apex Predator."

 

Izuku’s Quirk activated. Not the Hybrid Form. Not a partial shift. He opened the floodgates.

 

The transformation was explosive. The sheer kinetic energy released by his cellular structure expanding acted like a localized bomb, blowing the Nomu backward into the plaza.

 

A searing, emerald steam erupted, engulfing the entire staircase. The temperature inside the USJ skyrocketed, the air shimmering with heat distortion. The concrete groaned, steel girders buckled, and the very foundation of the facility shook violently.

 

"Get back! Everyone against the wall!" Aizawa roared, grabbing students and hauling them away from the expanding cloud of steam.

 

From within the emerald fog, a massive, jagged shadow rose. Higher and higher. Ten feet. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty feet.

 

The steam was violently blown away by the swish of a massive, armored tail that smashed into the cliffside of the Mountain Zone, shearing off a ton of solid rock as if it were styrofoam.

 

There, standing in the center of the USJ, completely dwarfing the central fountain, was the Tyrant God.

 

The fifty-foot T-Rex let out a low, rumbling growl that vibrated the water in the flood zone, creating massive ripples. Its radioactive green scales pulsed with power. Its massive, battering-ram of a skull lowered, its golden eyes locking onto the Nomu.

 

Shigaraki staggered backward, his eyes wide, his mind snapping under the sheer, incomprehensible scale of the beast.

 

"W-What is that...?" Shigaraki breathed. "That's not a hero... that's a raid boss..."

 

"Nomu!" Shigaraki shrieked, panic finally setting in. "Kill it! It's just a big target! Beat it to death!"

 

The Nomu, feeling no fear, charged. It leaped hundreds of feet into the air, aiming a double-fisted strike right between the T-Rex's glowing eyes.

 

The Nomu was built to absorb blunt force. Punches. Kicks. Smashes.

 

It was not built for piercing damage.

 

Izuku did not punch. Izuku opened his massive, prehistoric jaws.

 

Rows of jagged, serrated teeth, each the size of a surfboard and harder than diamond, gleamed in the artificial light. As the Nomu descended, Izuku simply lunged forward with a speed that belied his massive size.

 

CRUNCH.

 

The sound was sickening. It wasn't the sound of a punch; it was the sound of a meat grinder.

 

Izuku caught the Nomu in mid-air. His jaws clamped down on the creature's torso. The bite force of a standard Tyrannosaurus Rex was roughly 8,000 pounds per square inch. Izuku’s Quirk multiplied that genetic baseline by a factor of thousands.

 

The Nomu's Shock Absorption Quirk flared, trying to disperse the kinetic energy, but you cannot disperse a blade cutting through flesh. The teeth pierced the purple muscle, shattered the reinforced ribs, and completely bypassed the biological defenses.

 

Izuku bit down hard.

 

The Nomu's upper half was cleanly, violently severed from its lower half.

 

Izuku tossed his massive head back, spitting the top half of the Nomu out. It crashed into the concrete plaza, a mangled, horrific mess. The bottom half collapsed a few feet away.

 

"N-No..." Shigaraki stammered, gripping his hair. "The Nomu... my Nomu..."

 

But the Nomu wasn't dead. Its Super Regeneration Quirk activated. The upper torso began to violently bubble and hiss, muscle fibers shooting out like tentacles, desperately trying to pull itself back together and regrow its legs.

 

Inside his Kaiju form, Izuku realized the threat. If it regenerates fully, it might try to attack the students again. I need to make sure there's nothing left to regenerate.

 

Izuku took a deep, massive breath. His chest expanded, the green scales along his dorsal ridge glowing with blinding intensity. He aimed his massive skull downward, directly at the regenerating Nomu.

 

"Kurogiri!" Shigaraki screamed. "Get us out of here! NOW!"

 

Kurogiri didn't hesitate. The warp gate expanded, forcibly swallowing Shigaraki just as he turned to run.

 

Izuku unleashed the Primal Roar.

 

It was a concentrated beam of absolute sonic friction. A localized shockwave so intense it distorted the light around it, creating a visible cone of destructive kinetic energy.

 

The roar struck the Nomu.

 

The sheer vibrational frequency of the sound waves completely bypassed any physical defense. The Nomu's cells vibrated at such a catastrophic speed that they ignited. In less than a second, the Nomu's Super Regeneration was overwhelmed. The purple flesh boiled, vaporized, and turned to ash.

 

The roar didn't stop there. It hit the ground, carving a massive, smoking trench through the concrete plaza. It struck the central water reservoir. The millions of gallons of water were instantly atomized, turning into a massive cloud of steam that filled the dome.

 

The shockwave hit the reinforced glass ceiling of the USJ. Millions of yen worth of structural engineering shattered instantly, the glass raining down harmlessly outside the facility as the roar pierced the heavens, splitting the clouds above UA High School.

 

Then, silence.

 

The echoes of the roar faded. The steam from the vaporized lake began to clear.

 

The Nomu was gone. Erased from existence.

 

The League of Villains was gone, either unconscious on the ground or having fled in absolute terror.

 

The fifty-foot beast stood amidst the destruction. It let out a huff of breath, then slowly began to shrink, hissing steam filling the area.

 

Up on the ruined staircase, Class 1-A slowly stood up. They were covered in dust, trembling, and completely unharmed.

 

"He... he ate it," Mineta whispered, rocking back and forth. "He bit it in half. He's going to eat us next."

 

"He saved us, you idiot," Jiro said, though her voice was shaking violently.

 

"Midoriya..." Aizawa breathed, lowering his capture scarf. The underground hero looked at the trench carved into his facility. He had trained his whole life to fight villains. He had never felt as useless as he did right now.

 

Suddenly, the massive front doors of the USJ were violently blown off their hinges.

 

"HAVE NO FEAR!" a booming, furious voice echoed through the dome.

 

Standing in the doorway, radiating righteous fury, was All Might. He had lost his smile. He was in his full muscular form, his suit bulging. He had received the emergency alert and had run here at top speed, ready to face whatever monstrosity dared attack his students.

 

"I AM HERE!" All Might roared, striking a dramatic pose.

 

He looked down at the plaza.

 

He saw one hundred and forty-seven unconscious villains scattered like broken toys.

 

He saw a massive, smoking trench that defied physics.

 

He saw a completely empty, vaporized water reservoir.

 

And sitting in the middle of a crater, entirely naked, covering his lap with a chunk of broken concrete and furiously blushing, was Izuku Midoriya.

 

All Might blinked. The righteous fury drained from his face, replaced by utter confusion.

 

Izuku looked up at All Might. "A-All Might! You're late!"

 

All Might slowly walked down the stairs, carefully stepping over the foaming bodies of the villains. He reached the bottom, standing over the shivering, naked fourteen-year-old who had just single-handedly thwarted a terrorist invasion.

 

All Might reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, foil-wrapped juice box he had bought from a vending machine on his way here, intended for his own blood-sugar crash.

 

He silently handed the juice box to Izuku.

 

Izuku took it with one hand, keeping the concrete slab secure with the other. "Thank you, sir. Um... do you happen to have any spare pants? I think my custom suit vaporized during the expansion phase."

 

All Might stared at the boy. He stared at the trench. He patted Izuku awkwardly on the head.

 

"You did good, kid," All Might sighed, feeling incredibly old. "You did good. But please, for the love of God, tell the HPSC to make your next suit out of vibranium."

 

As the sirens of the police and medical teams finally began to wail in the distance, Izuku Midoriya sipped his juice box, the undisputed, unchallenged Apex Predator of hero society, deeply regretting that he hadn't worn a belt.