The Symbol of Death: Part 2
As the night before the gala settled over the snow-covered landscape, Drekus found himself taking a leisurely stroll through the serene fields near the resort. Unlike Mio, whose mind was consumed with the weight of their impending mission, Drekus felt surprisingly relaxed. He felt, deep down, that everything would be fine—that they were more than capable of handling whatever challenges came their way.
The snow crunched softly beneath his boots, each step breaking the silence that enveloped the countryside. Then, by pure chance, his gaze fell upon the distant peaks of two towering mountains. Something stirred within him, a faint echo of recognition that tugged at the edges of his memories.
Without hesitation, he set off towards those distant peaks. He didn't fly, as one might expect—he knew that an aerial viewpoint would only serve as a limitation. No, he needed to walk, as he had likely done before.
The day of the Underground Gala dawned with an air of anticipation and tension. In a spacious room at the ski resort, Mio stood before a full-length mirror, her fingers delicately adjusting the folds of her frilly yellow off-shoulder dress.
"The gala will be held in an underground complex beneath a secluded villa," Ivan began, his voice crisp and authoritative. "There are several entry points we can use to gain access to the facility underneath, but we must be cautious. Security will be tight, and we cannot afford to be caught off guard."
Ookami nodded in understanding, her eyes scanning the map as Ivan pointed out the various entrances and escape routes. She committed each detail to memory.
"Who are we looking for again?" asked Feral, who was raiding the fridge.
Mio leaned forward, her gaze intense as she addressed her "Ganni Kovak. He's a top-tier Quirk scientist. He used to be a student of one of the most renowned authorities in the field." she shifted her attention to Ivan "Are you sure the Gala is the only place we can find him?"
"I am. Kovak works directly under one of the organizers. This gala is, infact, the only event where other people have seen him directly."
Mio took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges that lay ahead. However, her anger returned after a few seconds.
"Where the hell is that Neanderthal?" she growled, her voice laced with irritation. "We're about to embark on the most dangerous mission of our lives, and that blue retard decides to disappear?"
"You mean Owari?" Ookami hovered nervously nearby, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap as she watched Mio's outburst unfold.
"No, Drekus." Mio answered. She cursed under her breath. It took all of her willpower to rein in her anger, reminding herself that losing her temper wouldn't solve anything.
Ivan, ever the picture of calm, approached her with a reassuring smile. "Easy there," he said, his tone soothing. "Drekus's absence may be unsettling, but remember, my quirk doesn't guarantee a single future. His disappearance was always a possibility we discussed."
Mio took a deep breath. Ivan was right—they had prepared for every eventuality, even the unexpected ones like Drekus's absence. But that didn't make it any less infuriating.
Surprisingly, Feral seemed oddly relaxed, a confident grin playing at her lips as she leaned against the wall with casual ease. "Relax, little empress," she said, her voice dripping with assurance. "Drekus may be missing, but he'll come back in time. I know my little brother."
Her confidence was infectious, and Mio felt some of the tension drain from her shoulders as she nodded in agreement. "I hope you're right," she muttered, her voice steadier now. "We've come too far to let a setback like this stop us anyway."
Ivan leaned closer to Mio, his expression grave as he addressed her. "I have the items you requested ready," he stated, his tone measured and deliberate. He reached for a small ornate box on the table beside him, its polished surface glinting in the soft glow of the room.
"The effects from the ones in Japan would last for a couple of hours at most," Ivan continued, his voice low and serious. "But the ones I've obtained for you should last as long as the American ones and are several times more potent."
She nodded. With a steady hand, Mio opened the box, revealing several small vials nestled within.
"The last member for this operation has arrived as well." said Ivan.
A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into the flickering light of the room. He remained silent, his features obscured by the shadows, but there was an air of confidence about him that commanded attention.
Ivan, ever the diplomat, was the first to acknowledge the newcomer. With a subtle nod, he motioned towards the mysterious figure. "Everyone, meet our newest ally, Paul Crémieux, better known as De Jais," he announced, his voice steady and authoritative. "He comes highly recommended."
He saluted the group with a light nod, his demeanor calm and composed.
Ivan stepped in once again, his expression serious as he vouched for Paul's reliability. "De Jais may come with a high price tag, but he's worth every penny," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"We'll see about that..." said Mio.
Hiram Verner, seated in a plush armchair, listened intently to Marshall's report.
Marshall stood before Hiram, his expression grim as he delivered the news. "We've finished processing the biometric data obtained from our target," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. "He's a mess. I honestly have no idea how he hasn't exploded yet."
Hiram's brow furrowed in concern as Marshall continued. "The data shows that his regeneration is slowing down," Marshall explained, his hands gesturing animatedly to emphasize his point. "It seems his reserves of energy are waning, and his stolen quirks are going haywire."
Hiram leaned forward, his gaze intense as he absorbed the information. "Explain," he commanded, his voice low but commanding.
Marshall took a deep breath, steeling himself before continuing. "The biometrics revealed that his own quirk factor is struggling to restore itself due to unknown reasons," he elaborated, his tone grave. "It's almost as if every time it recovers, it starts to unravel again."
"I'd say that is the perfect chance to dela with him. We're moving onto phase two." Hiram declared, his voice resonating with determination.
"Understood, sir," he replied, his voice steady. With a sense of urgency, Marshall stepped forward to carry out Hiram's orders. "I'll prepare the transport immediately," he affirmed, his mind already racing with plans to execute their next move.
Marshall wasted no time in contacting Elyn through the replicas that were with them, but the response he got was not what he had expected. "Sir. Elyn Fa'al is already leaving to meet with the target.
Hiram's lips formed a thin line as he listened, his irritation evident in the set of his jaw. "Typical," he muttered under his breath, his dissatisfaction clear. "They never could follow orders properly."
With a heavy sigh, Hiram shook his head in exasperation. "We can't afford any slip-ups now that Elyn wants to mess around on the front lines," he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We need to ensure that everything goes according to plan. Get me a visual on them, just in case."
Marshall handed him a small device, and the screen flickered to life, displaying the snowy landscape of the mountain range through the lens of Marshall's replica's visor. Hiram leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the scene unfolding before him.
In the distance, he could see Elyn leading a small squad of replicas through the rugged terrain, their expression bright and enthusiastic despite the harsh conditions. The replicas followed closely behind them, their movements synchronized with military precision.
But it was the figure walking alongside them that caught Hiram's attention. Towering over the others, the hulking figure moved with a powerful grace, its muscular frame rippling beneath its greenish-blue skin. Several pairs of branching and asymmetrical horns adorned its head.
Hiram let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "And now they brought that hound of theirs along too?" he groaned, his annoyance evident. "Are they trying to turn the whole area into rubble?"
Drekus knelt with his back turned towards the approaching figures, his shoulders slumped and unmoving.
Elyn, accompanied by their squad of Marshall replicas and the imposing "hound," approached Drekus, their footsteps echoing softly against the snow-covered ground. Despite the cold that surrounded them, there was an air of excitement emanating from Elyn as they recognized the figure before them.
"D-44," Elyn called out, their voice carrying across the quiet expanse of the mountainside. "Well, well, what a surprise to find you here."
There was a hint of amusement in Elyn's tone as they spoke, a sense of familiarity with the individual they had stumbled upon. They seemed genuinely pleased by the unexpected encounter.
Despite Elyn's cheerful demeanor, Drekus remained unmoved, his form still as stone as he knelt in the snow. He made no indication that he had heard their words, his focus seemingly elsewhere as he remained lost in his own thoughts. His mind was a whirlwind of fragmented memories, each one vying for his attention with a relentless intensity. Images flickered and shifted, the echoes of his past haunting him as he grappled with the shattered remnants of his identity.
He remembered the sterile walls of the laboratory, the harsh glare of fluorescent lights overhead as he lay strapped to a cold metal table, subjected to countless experiments and procedures in the name of scientific advancement. The memories were like shards of broken glass, to the point where he felt like they actually could cut his mind.
But amidst the chaos of his fractured mind, a new memory emerged—a memory that had long been buried beneath layers of forgotten pain and suffering. It was the memory of him, kneeling in the snow, carefully arranging rocks to form a crude tombstone.
The tombstone stood before him now, its rough surface etched with the simple outline of flowers that he himself had carved into the stone. With a heavy heart, he whispered a silent prayer for the soul that he could no longer remember. The tombstone was symbolic, there was no body buried there. He wasn't able to retrieve it. In fact the whole thing seemed kind of rushed, as he had wanted to do it before his mind degenerated to the point of not being able to remember.
Elyn's voice cut through the stillness of the snowy mountainside, carrying a strange mixture of excitement and reverence as they spoke of their plans for Drekus.
Elyn's words washed over him like a distant echo, their excitement tinged with an air of anticipation as they spoke of their discovery of shadowy government affairs. Elyn spoke of their cult, of the secrets they had uncovered, and of the revival of the project that had once consumed Drekus's life.
But to Drekus, their words held little meaning, mere whispers in the wind compared to the cacophony of voices that echoed within his fractured mind. He remained silent and motionless, his attention focused solely on the makeshift tombstone before him, a silent monument to a past that he could scarcely remember.
arshall struggled to get a word in edgewise as Elyn prattled on, their excitement palpable. Each time Marshall attempted to interject, Elyn brushed him off with an impatient wave of their hand, their attention fixated on their own monologue.
"Listen, Elyn, you need to—" Marshall began, only to be abruptly cut off by Elyn's enthusiastic rambling.
"Not now, Marshall!" Elyn exclaimed, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "I'm in the middle of something important here."
Marshall gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as he attempted once again to convey the urgency of the situation. But his efforts were in vain as Elyn continued to ignore him, their focus solely on their own agenda.
Before Marshall could make another attempt to speak, their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of an unexpected visitor. Emerging from the dense undergrowth, battered and bloodied, Sandatsu stumbled into the clearing.
"W̵h̴a̸t̵'̷s̵ ̵u̴p̷ ?" Sandatsu's voice was incredibly raspy.
As Elyn attempted to engage Sandatsu in conversation, they were met with a swift dismissal that left them feeling increasingly frustrated and ignored.
"Ꞥꝋⱦ ɏꝋᵾ." With a sharp retort, Sandatsu silenced Elyn's protests, his attention shifting instead to Drekus, who remained kneeling silently before the crude tombstone.
Ignoring Elyn's whining, Sandatsu's weary eyes scanned the scene before him. A flicker of understanding crossed his features as he got the gist of the situation. With a reassuring smile, he addressed Drekus. "Ī ꞩeē. Dꝋꞥ't ⱳꝋɍɍɏ, Ī'łł ħaꞥdłē thīꞩ."
Meanwhile, Elyn persisted in their attempts to assert themselves, expressing their surprise at the presence of D-44, whom they assumed to be Sandatsu's companion. But before they could finish their sentence, Sandatsu cut them off once more with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"I have n̵o̸ i̴d̶e̶a w̵h̷o̶ D̶-4̵4 is." Sandatsu said bluntly. "The g̶u̸y ba̸c̷k̶ th̶e̸re i̷s̷ D̴r̴eku̵s, you know? My c̸o̴m̷r̴a̷d̵e a̷n̵d̴ ̵a s̷u̵p̸e̶r coo̴l f̶a̵mily ma̷n."
Sandatsu surged forward with lightning speed, aiming to confront Elyn head-on. But before he could close the distance, a massive hand intercepted his path, halting him in his tracks with a brutal force.
The hulking figure, towering and imposing, gripped Sandatsu's outstretched arm with a vice-like grip, its strength unmatched. With a swift twist, the figure contorted Sandatsu's limb, the sickening sound of bones snapping echoing through the clearing. Sandatsu recoiled in agony, his face contorted in pain as he struggled to free himself from the iron grasp.
Elyn, watching with a smug satisfaction, relished in Sandatsu's suffering, their demeanor oozing with arrogance and superiority. With a smirk, they taunted Sandatsu, their voice dripping with disdain.
"I'm quite surprised. To think that good old D-44 would have an ally, and what's more, that they would be the man I've been targeting!" Elyn jeered, their tone mocking. "Well, I hope you'll get along just as well with our latest success: D-78."
The night of the Gala arrived, bringing with it a flurry of anticipation and nerves.
Deep beneath the towering canopy of the secluded woods, concealed beneath the facade of an ostentatious villa, the hidden labyrinth of the Underground Gala was bustling with noise. The entrance, disguised as an innocuous wine cellar, led down a spiraling staircase, each step unveiling the clandestine world below.
The Gala itself unfolded within an expansive cavern, its walls adorned with ancient tapestries that seemed to absorb the dim light and echo the rich history of villainous machinations. Glistening chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that danced across the faces of the gathered villains.
The underground complex, meticulously carved into the earth, revealed a network of chambers and corridors. Opulent lounges with plush velvet couches beckoned guests to conspire in comfort, while hidden alcoves concealed secrets and clandestine meetings.
The grand hall, the centerpiece of the hidden gala, commanded attention with its high vaulted ceilings and towering pillars adorned with twisted vines. A mosaic floor, depicting scenes of chaos and conquest, mirrored the twisted desires of those who gathered within. Massive tapestries lined the walls, depicting scenes of infamous villains and their dark exploits.
Ookami, the epitome of grace and elegance, wore a white business casual dress that accentuated her delicate features. Her hair was styled in loose waves, framing her face with a touch of sophistication.
Feral had managed to avoid the dreaded dress, having eschewed the traditional gown for a formal black suit that hugged her athletic figure. Her usually wild hair styled in a long braid.
Mio, the orchestrator of the evening's events, opted for a frilly yellow off-shoulder dress that radiated warmth and vitality. Her hair was swept up into an elegant bun.
As they made their way inside, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. The grandeur of the venue enveloped them, the opulent decorations and luxurious furnishings creating an air of elegance and sophistication. Guests mingled and chatted animatedly, their laughter filling the air as they reveled in the festivities. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and the heady mix of perfumes worn by those who reveled in the darker side of society. The cavernous space reverberated with the clinking of glasses, the low hum of conversations, and the occasional burst of villainous laughter.
As Mio scanned the grand hall of the gala, her sharp eyes darted from one figure to another, taking in the eclectic mix of attendees. Yet, amidst the flurry of activity, one figure remained conspicuously absent: Ivan. Despite their earlier plans to attend the gala together, Mio had yet to catch a glimpse of her enigmatic ally. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness.
Mio's voice cut through the buzz of conversation in the grand ballroom, her tone commanding as she addressed Feral.
"Hey, keep an eye out for Ivan, alright?" she instructed, her gaze locking onto Feral's with unwavering intensity. The mutant girl nodded eagerly in response, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes as she scanned the room with keen awareness.
With that settled, Mio turned to Ookami, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Let's freshen up a bit," she suggested. "I want to make sure we're at our best for what's to come."
Together, the two girls made their way through the elegant crowd, weaving through the throng of partygoers. Upon reaching the opulent bathrooms, Mio wasted no time in stepping inside, the soft glow of the vanity mirrors casting a warm, flattering light over their surroundings.
Mio retrieved from her purse the small ornate box that Ivan had given her, her fingers deftly opening it to reveal the precious vials nestled within, each containing a powerful quirk-enhancing drug capable of unlocking new levels of strength and ability, for a time.
Without hesitation, Mio selected one of the vials, her heart pounding as she prepared to administer the potent substance. With steady hands, she carefully applied a single drop of the drug to each eye, feeling a cool sensation wash over her as it took effect.
Instantly, Mio felt a surge of energy course through her veins, her senses sharpening and her mind expanding to encompass new horizons. The drug worked its magic, enhancing her memory manipulation quirk to unprecedented levels.
As the effects of the drug took hold, Mio's perception accelerated to dizzying speeds, her reach extending further than ever before as she delved deep into the sea of memories that surrounded her. She felt as though she could see someone's entire lifetime in a matter of minutes, her mind racing through the vast expanse of time with unparalleled speed and clarity.
As Mio and Ookami exited the lavish bathroom, they were greeted by the sight of Feral indulging in the array of exotic delicacies laid out on the buffet table. Her sharp claws expertly plucked morsels from the plates, her grin widening with each delectable bite.
"Hey, Feral," Mio called out, her voice cutting through the din of conversation. Feral glanced up, her mouth still full of food.
"Mmm?" she replied, swallowing hastily as she focused her attention on Mio.
"Cover this area," Mio instructed, gesturing toward the bustling crowd of partygoers. "Keep an eye out for Ivan, and stay near the exit in case things go south."
Feral nodded eagerly. With a quick salute, she bounded off to fulfill her assigned task, disappearing into the crowd. Turning her attention back to Ookami, Mio took a deep breath, steeling herself for the monumental task ahead. Despite the enhancement of her quirk, she knew that she couldn't cover the entire gala on her own.
Amidst the revelry, Mio caught glimpses of familiar faces and notorious figures alike. Villains and criminal organizations mingled freely among the crowd, their presence a stark reminder of the dangerous world in which they lived.
She spotted Sturmtruppe, the extremist villain from Germany, his imposing figure clad in dark armor adorned with symbols of his extremist ideology. He was engaged in a heated argument with members of a Chinese assassin syndicate.
The tension between them was palpable, their disdain for one another evident in their hostile gestures and sharp words. Mio watched with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, knowing that any altercation could quickly spiral out of control in such volatile company.
As Mio continued to weave through the sea of guests, her mind buzzing with the influx of memories, she reached out to Feral through implanted memories.
"Feral," Memory Mio's voice echoed in Feral's mind. She shared with her the memory of the villain arguing with the assassins. "This villain, Sturmtruppe. She shared her own memories of Sturmtruppe's defeat with Feral. Keep an eye on him. I think his quirk could be useful."
With a nod, she acknowledged Mio's instructions and set about tracking Sturmtruppe through the bustling crowd.
As Mio delved deeper into the memories of the gala attendees, she shifted through a myriad of experiences. Faces blurred together as she skimmed through lifetimes, searching for the elusive thread that would lead her to Ganni Kovak.
And then, amidst the sea of memories, she stumbled upon a set that stood out like a beacon in the darkness. The owner of these memories had lived an unnaturally long life, their experiences spanning centuries rather than mere decades. But it was not the longevity of their existence that caught Mio's attention—it was the fact that they had encountered Ganni Kovak.
With a surge of determination, Mio focused her senses, honing in on the source of these extraordinary memories. The person was moving at the edge of her range. Without hesitation, Mio, followed by Ookami, set off in pursuit, her steps quickening as she raced towards their location.
But just as Mio was on the verge of reaching her quarry, she watched in frustration as they disappeared into an elevator, ascending towards the villa above. Her brow furrowed in frustration, Mio cursed under her breath. They waited for a few seconds, and then the elevator came down again.
As the elevator door slid open with a soft hiss, Mio exchanged a knowing glance with Ookami before stepping inside. With each passing floor, Mio's heart pounded in her chest, anticipation mingling with apprehension.
Eventually, the elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open to reveal a grand hallway that stretched out before them like a ribbon of polished marble. The walls were adorned with ornate tapestries and ancient paintings. At the end of the hallway loomed a massive wooden door, flanked by two imposing guards clad in futuristic armor that gleamed in the dim light.
Mio's keen eyes darted over the guards, but to her frustration, she found their memories shrouded behind the visors of their helmets. Some sort of countermeasure against her quirk?
With a sense of trepidation, they pushed open the door and stepped into the room beyond. Instantly, Mio's senses were assailed by the warmth of the crackling fireplace and the scent of burning wood. The room itself was bathed in a soft, golden light, casting long shadows across the ornate furnishings and plush carpets that adorned the space.
Seated before the fire, hunched over and clad in traditional Japanese attire, was an elderly man with a thick beard and mustache. His presence exuded an aura of quiet authority, his piercing gaze fixed upon Mio and Ookami with unwavering intensity. This was Amatsu Yamaoshi, one of the three organizers of the Gala and a member of one of the largest surviving yakuza families in existence.
"I have been expecting you." Really? She thought to herself. How original. She couldn't help but roll her eyes internally at Amatsu's cliché greeting. But she kept her expression neutral, her focus already shifting to sift through his memories like sand through a sieve.
Before she could delve too deeply, however, Amatsu's voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her attention back to the present. His tone was angry and authoritarian, sending a chill down Mio's spine despite her best efforts to remain composed.
"We should talk like civilized people," he said, his words dripping with disdain. "Though you may continue with your... mind probing, if you wish."
Mio resisted the urge to bristle at his condescending tone, instead opting to maintain her calm façade as she continued to search his memories for any useful information.
As she sifted through the tangled web of thoughts and emotions, a commotion at the door caught her attention. Another soldier entered the room, dragging a beaten and unconscious Ivan behind him. Mio's heart clenched at the sight of one of her pawns in such a state, but she quickly pushed aside her emotions, focusing instead on the task at hand.
Amatsu's voice pulled her back to the present once more, his words like a slap in the face. "It's impressive how Ivan kept his silence," he remarked, his tone laced with grudging admiration. "But ultimately useless. Any powerful criminal like me has people with psychic quirks working for them in this day and age."
Mio remained quiet.
Amatsu's voice sliced through the tense silence like a razor, his words heavy with resentment and anger. "Do you have any idea how much I hate you?" he spat, his eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at Mio. "And that man," he added, his lip curling in disgust.
She knew she had ruffled feathers with her actions, but she hadn't expected such intense animosity from the head of the Yamaoshi clan.
Amatsu continued, his voice dripping with venom. "Given your quirk there is no point in hiding my reasons. When Sandatsu Owari attacked a yakuza stronghold in Kyoto and killed several dozens, among his victims was one of my sons," he said, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't give a damn about most of my descendants," he admitted, his voice growing colder with each word. "But this one was different. Because of my quirk."
Quirk:「Legacy」
Type: Emitter
Description: Once per generation, this quirk marks one of the user's descendants. When the user dies, their mind is transferred to the body of the marked descendant, effectively cheating death.
With that descendant dead, Amatsu continued, his voice tinged with bitterness, he was unable to migrate to a new body when he inevitably died of old age.
Amatsu cursed Sandatsu's name, his voice thick with anger and regret. "He put an end to my centuries-old legacy as head of the Yamaoshi clan," he growled, his eyes blazing with fury as he stared at Mio. "And for that, he will pay dearly."
As the screen over the fireplace flickered to life, casting an eerie glow across the opulent room, Mio couldn't tear her eyes away from the live feed displayed before her. The camera on one of the Marhsall's visors captured the chaotic scene unfolding in the snowy mountains, where Elyn, Sandatsu, and Drekus clashed in a brutal battle.
Amatsu's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, his tone laced with a twisted sense of amusement. "Enjoy the spectacle. This is a party, after all," he said, his words dripping with malice as he gestured towards the screen.
Mio watched in silence as the fierce combatants clashed with ferocious intensity.
Elyn's squad of Marshall replicas swarmed around the battlefield like a pack of wolves, their movements fluid and coordinated as they launched relentless attacks on Sandatsu and Drekus.
Sandatsu fought with a savage determination, his movements swift and deadly as he unleashed torrents of embers and blasts of psychokinetic energy.
Beside him, Drekus fought with a grim determination, his steel feathers slicing through the air as he attempted to land a solid blow on their formidable opponent. But D-78 proved to be a relentless adversary, shrugging off his attacks with ease as it unleashed a barrage of devastating counterattacks. No matter how hard he fought, Drekus found himself unable to penetrate his opponent's defenses, its mutated skin proving impervious to his attacks.
On the other hand, each blow from D-78 landed with bone-crunching force, sending shockwaves rippling through the earth as the battle raged on.
"You seem awfully confident for someone in your position," Amatsu remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement as he observed Mio's cocky smile. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her face.
Mio simply shrugged in response, her demeanor unflappable despite the gravity of the situation. She met Amatsu's gaze head-on, her expression smug as if daring him to challenge her.
"I've dealt with worse," she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Amatsu's lips quirked into a wry smile at her audacity, though there was a glint of steel in his eyes. He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly around his cane as he regarded her with a mixture of admiration and wariness.
"You have spirit, I'll give you that," he conceded, his tone grudgingly respectful. "But don't mistake bravado for strength. You're treading on dangerous ground, young lady."
Mio's smile widened, her confidence unshaken by his veiled threats. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms defiantly as she met his gaze with unwavering determination.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she declared, her voice filled with conviction. "You, on the other hand, have no idea of what you're dealing with."
"Ookami," she called out, her voice faint and strained.
Ookami's surprise was evident as she entered the stall, her eyes widening at the sight of Mio surrounded by two discarded vials of the potent substance. One of Mio's eyes was bloodshot, a stark contrast to the determined gleam in the other.
"What have you done? Katsuragi-sama..." Ookami asked, her voice a mixture of concern and disbelief.
Mio chuckled weakly, the sound tinged with arrogance despite her obvious distress. "This is nothing," she replied, her words full of bravado.
Despite her outward confidence, Mio struggled to pull herself together, her body betraying the strain of the drugs coursing through her veins. Sweat beaded on her brow as she leaned against the stall wall, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
Ookami moved closer, her expression one of concern as she reached out to steady her master. "You shouldn't have taken so much," she admonished gently. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
But Mio waved off her concerns with a dismissive gesture, her eyes burning with determination. "I can handle it," she insisted, her voice defiant. "This is nothing compared to how much they are going to suffer tonight..."
As Ookami carried Mio out of the toilets, her bloodshot eyes darted around the grandeur of the gala, her mind working furiously as she continued to manipulate Amatsu's memories in real-time.
Mio's enhanced memory manipulation quirk was working overtime, distorting the flow of information itself as she rewrote the memories at the same time as they were being formed in Amatsu's mind. What appeared to be a meeting in a secluded room was, in fact, nothing more than a fabrication spun from the threads of Mio's quirk. This boost extended to her capabilities to affect technology, as she was also altering the security data being processed within her also increased range. For all intents and purposes, she was in that room talking to the old man.
Feral received Mio's command through their mental connection, her eyes narrowing with determination. She nodded silently, slipping through the crowd with predatory grace as she made her way toward Sturmtruppe.
"I know you," Feral remarked, her tone light and conversational, as if she were discussing the weather rather than engaging in a potentially dangerous encounter.
With a casual flick of her wrist, Feral brushed aside Sturmtruppe's attempts to dismiss her, her easy confidence cutting through the other villain's annoyance like a hot knife through butter.
Sturmtruppe bristled at the interruption, his expression darkening with frustration as he struggled to regain control of the conversation. But Feral was undeterred, her gaze steady and unwavering as she continued to speak.
"You see, recently I kinda faced off against that hero, Impakt," Feral continued, her voice tinged with amusement. "It was hard, really. Not because he was strong but more because I had to make sure not to cripple his legs. Wouldn't want to rob myself of the pleasure of seeing him kick you in the head again the next time you cross paths."
In the heart of the opulent gala hall, chaos erupted like a tempest unleashed. Feral, a whirlwind of fury, seized Sturmtruppe with primal strength. With a fierce growl, she hurled him towards the ground, the impact resonating with a deafening crash.
Feral maintained her relentless assault, dragging Sturmtruppe across the floor with savage determination. The air crackled with tension as they careened through the hall, leaving chaos and devastation in their wake. Tiles shattered beneath the force of their collision, fragments of ceramic exploding into the air like shrapnel.
As they grappled, Sturmtruppe's hand found purchase on a nearby electrical cable, his fingers closing around the thick, insulated wire. With a surge of power, he drew energy from the cable, the electricity coursing through his veins like a bolt of lightning. The lights in the gala hall flickered and dimmed. It was then that Paul started moving. The flickering of the lights and shifting shadows were the perfect path for him.
Mio's mind raced as she manipulated the memories of those around her, ensuring that their movements went unnoticed amidst the turmoil. Through her quirk, she relayed a silent message to Feral, her tone laced with a steely resolve. "Stay alive,"
Meanwhile, other violent villains seized the opportunity to join the melee, their powers unleashed with devastating force. Fire erupted from one corner of the room as a pyrokinetic unleashed a torrent of flames.
The other, less combative villains watched from the sidelines. Some cheered on their favored combatants, reveling in the spectacle of violence unfolding before them, while others were seeking refuge from the storm of destruction.
As Amatsu's gaze shifted from the security report to Mio, his expression twisted into a mask of irritation. The distorted image of Mio wavered before him, flickering like a dying flame. Anger simmered beneath the surface of his composed demeanor, evident in the hard set of his jaw and the sharp glint in his eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?" Amatsu demanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the room. His gaze bore into Mio, though her form continued to distort and fade before his eyes. Frustration coiled in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing sensation that threatened to consume him whole.
Mio's figure continued to flicker, her presence growing increasingly ephemeral with each passing moment. "Going senile?"
Despite his mounting frustration, he refused to allow his composure to falter, his resolve steeling against the encroaching chaos.
With a sharp exhale, Amatsu turned his attention back to the security feed, his gaze narrowing as he scrutinized the unfolding events. The report of the brawl in the halls and the sudden electrical interference only served to deepen his sense of unease. He cursed under his breath, a string of colorful expletives punctuating the air with their venomous intensity.
As he glanced back at the fading image of Mio, a derisive snort escaped his lips. "Foolish whore," he muttered, his tone laced with contempt.
As they sprinted through the winding corridors, Mio's mind worked in overdrive, her quirk stretching to its limits as she manipulated the security feeds, buying them precious moments until the security forces caught up with their infiltration after dealing with the villain brawl.
Mio clung tightly to Ookami's fur, her heart pounding with adrenaline as they raced through the labyrinthine halls. The air whipped against her face, stinging her cheeks as they hurtled forward with reckless abandon. The memory manipulation on Amatsu strained against the confines of her control, the illusion of her presence in the meeting room beginning to waver and distort under the weight of her exertion.
Ookami's concerned gaze met Mio's. She wanted to speak, to offer words of comfort or caution, but the constraints of her lupine form rendered her unable to talk. Instead, she communicated her worry through the intensity of her stare.
Mio's response was sharp, abrasive, the aggression in her tone a stark contrast to the vulnerability that bled from her every pore. "Stop fucking looking at me and keep running," she snapped, her voice tinged with a raw edge of desperation. "He's already at the meeting point."
Despite her deteriorating condition, Mio clung tightly to Ookami's back. Blood streamed from her nostrils, staining the white fur she was grabbing.
A squad of Marshall replicas was already wating for them at the end of the hall.
As Ookami charged forward, the blizzard she conjured swirling around her like a tempest of snow and ice, obscuring their movements from the eyes of the security squad. The sudden drop in temperature wouldn't affect their aim much, however, given their advanced visors.
With a thunderous roar, Ookami plowed through the ranks of the marshalls, her massive form a blur of fur and muscle as she barrelled through their defenses.
But even amidst the chaos of battle, the marshalls proved to be formidable adversaries, their disciplined training and advanced weaponry posing a significant threat to Ookami's advance. Bullets whizzed through the air, their deadly trajectory aimed squarely at her towering form, eliciting a growl of defiance from the wolf as she pressed onward.
In the midst of the fray, Ookami sank her teeth into the arm of one of the marshalls, her powerful jaws clamping down with bone-crushing force. But the marshall, undeterred by the searing pain, merely gritted his teeth and retaliated with a swift strike from his combat knife, the blade slicing through Ookami's muzzle with alarming precision.
After a minute of running, it seemed like they had reached end of the road, their path forward abruptly halted by the imposing barrier standing in their way. Mio and Ookami hurtled towards the closed reinforced gate.
But just as they were about to crash into the unyielding metal, the gate swung open with a suddenness that caught them off guard. A figure emerged from the darkness beyond, his silhouette illuminated by the dim glow of flickering lights.
It was Paul.
With a few scratches marring his otherwise unassuming appearance, Paul surveyed Mio and Ookami with a nonchalant gaze, his expression unreadable beneath his dark round glasses. He offered them a lazy nod of acknowledgment as he greeted them with a simple "bonjour." The floor beneath his feet was slick with the residue of the fallen marshalls. The blackouts caused by Sturmtruppe had enabled him to reach the lab incredibly fast.
As Ookami, in her human form, carried Mio on her back, Paul led the way through the labyrinthine corridors of the underground facility.
Mio's vision blurred as she struggled to maintain consciousness, the hemorrhage in her eye worsening with each passing moment. As they entered what Mio assumed to be Kovak's lab, she felt a surge of adrenaline course through her veins.
The room was a stark contrast to the sterile corridors they had traversed, filled with an array of equipment and machinery that hummed with quiet intensity. Banks of monitors lined the walls, displaying complex data and schematics that hinted at the scope of Kovak's experiments.
In the dimly lit recesses of the lab, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed against the cold metal walls as the man scrambled to escape. His breath came in ragged gasps, the tank on his back sloshing with each frantic movement. But before he could make his getaway, a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness, a gun glinting ominously in the faint light.
Paul's hand, steady and unwavering, held the weapon with lethal intent as he blocked the man's path. With a terse command, he halted the man in his tracks, preventing him from fleeing any further.
A couple seconds later Mio and Ookami caught up to the scene. There stood their elusive target: Ganni Kovak. Short and wiry, with tanned skin and a shock of black hair, he looked more like a cornered animal than a mad scientist. His oversized lab coat hung off his frame, his jeans ripped and stained with unknown substances. He was remarkably young too.
Kovak's voice quivered as he struggled to form his words, his eyes darting nervously between Mio and the floor. His hands trembled at his sides, the uncertainty of his situation palpable in the air.
"I-I know w-why you're here," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "E-Elyn t-told me... a-about the target."
Mio's lip curled into a sneer, her patience wearing thin as she glared at Kovak with disdain. Despite the pounding in her head and the weakness creeping into her limbs, she refused to let him see her falter.
"You listen here, you pathetic excuse for a scientist," she growled, her voice strained but filled with venom. "You will only speak when I tell you to do so."
As if on cue, Paul pressed the gun againts Kovak's temple.
Ookami let Mio stand on her own, and she stumbled forward towards the scientist. For some reason she wasn't able to read his meories. Was it related to the resistance the Marshall replicas had to her quirk?
"I know your boss and his butt buddies have been targetting him for some time already. And I know they tasked you with investigating his quirk." she may have been unable to access his mind, but she could still use her quirk to gain information from the digital files in the machines and equipment that surrounded them. "So you must know how to fix him."
"A-as much as I'd like to..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I-I can't. Treating such a unique quirk would require detailed examinations, h-here at the lab, with m-my equipment."
Mio's eyes narrowed at his response, her anger boiling over as she continued to berate him with a string of profanities.
"You useless piece of shit!" she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "What good are you if you can't even do your damn job?"
But Kovak's plea for understanding fell on deaf ears as Mio's tirade grew louder, her frustration mounting with each passing second.
"Relax, Doctor," As Amatsu's voice resonated through the speakers, a chilling silence fell over the lab. Dr. Kovak visibly tensed at the sound, his eyes darting nervously around the room as he awaited further instructions.
"You thought you could disrupt my gala, little girl?" Amatsu's voice was laced with derision, each word dripping with contempt.
"The Underground Gala has been a cornerstone of the villain world for decades," he sneered, his words filled with arrogance. "We've faced countless fools who dared to challenge us, and they all met the same fate—defeat and oblivion."
Amatsu's laughter filled the room. "But you?" he scoffed. "A mere brat with delusions of grandeur? You're even less than those idiots. You're nothing. Did you really think you could get away with this? This isn't your hero school. There is no corrupt teacher to cover for you when you try to play villain."
Amatsu activated a screen, revealing the chaos unfolding in the halls outside. Dozens of Marshall replica squads swarmed through the corridors, their advanced weaponry cutting through the melee like a hot knife through butter. Mio watched the footage with a sense of growing dread, realizing just how dire their situation had become.
Amatsu stood before the reinforced gate. While Mio's meddling may have erased the biometric data necessary to open the gate with her quirk, there remained another avenue of access—the manual input of the access codes.
With a steely resolve, Amatsu reached for the terminal, his fingers hovering over the keypad. He knew that once he gained entry, his squad of Marshall replicas would swiftly deal with any opposition they encountered on the other side.
With a practiced motion, he keyed in the access codes, only to pause abruptly as realization dawned upon him. His brows furrowed in confusion, a frown etching deep lines on his face. The access codes—the key to unlocking the gate—were nowhere to be found in his mind.
A surge of anger coursed through him, his grip tightening around his cane as he cursed under his breath. That insolent brat had erased the codes from his memory with her cursed quirk. The sheer audacity of her actions left him seething with rage.
In a fit of frustration, he struck the terminal with his cane, the metallic clang echoing through the corridor. With a terse command, he directed his squad of Marshall replicas to prepare for breach.
However, the process of breaching a reinforced gate was not one to be rushed, and the replicas worked meticulously to ensure success.
Mio's interference had bought them precious moments.
The cold wind howled through the snowy mountains, carrying with it the bitter sting of defeat and despair. Sandatsu and Drekus lay battered and broken, their bodies barely recognizable amidst the carnage wrought by D-78. Elyn stood over them, a cruel smile playing upon their lips as they regaled them with the tale of how D-78 came to be.
"See, it's all about connections," Elyn remarked, their voice carrying a sinister edge as they recounted the origins of D-78. "Turns out, the wife of a high-ranking politician decided to join my little cult. And let me tell you, she brought some juicy secrets with her."
With a gleeful glint in their eyes, Elyn described how the politician's wife had stumbled upon classified information about the government's clandestine experiments. It was a treasure trove of data, ripe for exploitation by those with the means and the will to do so. And Elyn, with their insatiable thirst for power, had seized upon the opportunity with ruthless efficiency.
"We used that data to resurrect the project," Elyn continued, their tone triumphant. "We studied D-44 in his natural habitat, learned all his quirks and weaknesses. And then, we built something even better."
D-78, the culmination of their efforts, stood before them now, a towering monolith of brute strength and relentless aggression. He was the latest and most formidable weapon in their arsenal, a testament to the boundless potential of human ambition.
Elyn's voice carried a tinge of disappointment as they recounted the discovery of Sandatsu's existence. "It all started with a single death," they began, their words laced with a mixture of fascination and frustration. "One of Amatsu's descendants, slain by you without even realizing it."
"It was then that we knew we had stumbled upon something truly remarkable," Elyn continued, their voice growing more animated with each passing word. "Your quirk is unlike anything we've ever seen before—a convergence of countless quirks, each one merging and intertwining to create something greater than the sum of its parts."
There was a gleam of excitement in Elyn's eyes as they spoke, a hunger for discovery that burned bright within them. But beneath the surface, there was also a hint of disappointment—a realization that the object of their fascination had failed to live up to their lofty expectations.
"I had grand plans, you know," Elyn remarked, their tone tinged with bitterness. "I was going to play along with Amatsu's revenge scheme, bide my time until the moment was right to capture you and harness your power for myself. But now..."
Her voice trailed off, the weight of their disappointment hanging heavy in the air. For all their scheming and plotting, for all their grand designs, it seemed that Sandatsu had proven to be nothing more than a failure.
"Nothing more than an edgy teenager. What a shame."
Elyn knelt beside Sandatsu's motionless form, their white cloak blending seamlessly with the snow.
"Such a waste," Elyn muttered, their voice tinged with a hint of regret as he surveyed the scene before him. "All that potential, squandered because of a subpar user."
Despite their casual demeanor, there was a flicker of something akin to pity in Elyn's eyes as they gazed down at Sandatsu's prone figure.
"I suppose I could offer you a chance at redemption," Elyn remarked, their tone tinged with amusement. "After all, what good is power if you have no one to wield it for you?"
With a graceful motion, Elyn reached out and brushed the snow away from Sandatsu's face, revealing the pale features beneath. Despite his injuries, there was still a hint of defiance in Sandatsu's expression, a stubborn refusal to yield even in the face of defeat.
"You have two choices," Elyn continued, their voice low and persuasive. "You can either accept my offer and become one of my loyal servants, or you can continue to fight against the inevitable and meet your end here and now."
She was acutely aware of the ticking clock, each passing moment pushing them closer to the brink of disaster.
She looked at Paul, his silent demeanor betraying the gravity of their predicament. Mio could see the wheels turning in his mind, already plotting his escape from the chaos engulfing them. He had no stakes in this affair, and given his quirk he could probably make a run for it.
She looked at the screen. Feral's fierce battle echoed in the distance. Even her formidable strength could only delay the inevitable for so long.
As the turmoil within Mio's mind reached a fever pitch, she felt the primal urge to seize control, to assert her dominance over the chaos that threatened to consume her. With trembling hands, she grasped the remaining vials of quirk-enhancing drugs. There was no room for doubt or hesitation; she needed to win, to emerge victorious at any cost.
With a defiant sneer, she scoffed at the notion of defeat, her voice dripping with contempt for those who dared to stand in her way. "You're all fucking stupid," she spat, the words laced with venomous disdain. "The world is already mine, and you just haven't realized it yet."
Sandatsu felt an unsettling disconnection from reality. Unlike his usual delusions and psychotic breaks, this realm felt otherworldly, its grayish void stretching endlessly in all directions. It was as if he had been cast adrift in a sea of emptiness.
As Sandatsu drifted through the desolate expanse, a voice echoed in the emptiness ahead. It spoke in hushed tones, as if muttering to itself, the words carrying an air of resignation and frustration.
"This is what I get for always procrastinating on my work," the voice lamented, its tone tinged with self-deprecation. "Bringing it with me to the afterlife... Well, there's no helping it now."
Sandatsu's gaze narrowed as he listened to the voice, the words resonating with a strange familiarity.
Before him, a figure materialized, their form shifting and shimmering in the shadows of the mindscape. "Better late than never, I say" The figure chuckled softly before materializing completely.
It was Hijack.
His words carried a weight of solemnity and resolve.
"And now, my last duty as a teacher: to discipline a rebellious student."