The wind carried the smell of smoke and something else, it smelled like burning metal and blood. Dante ran, faster than he'd ever run before, his shoes slamming against the pavement.
The trail of heat was still rising, orange and furious, the gym was burning down. There wasn't any hesitation in his movements as he sprang up the side of a building, hands clawing into brick and steel, his body propelled by panic and dread. He didn't have to wonder what was happening, he already knew, the gym, Kaijin. It was bad.
He launched himself over the final ledge, heart hammering in his chest, eyes wide as he reached the rooftop above the gym's back training room.
There was a massive hole torn through the roof, edges scorched and warped by intense heat and through that hole, he saw a dark purple spiral.
He quickly dropped down into the ruin of the training room, his legs shifting into sludge to cushion the landing. The impact sent dust scattering around his feet as he landed in a crouch. But there were no enemies here. No villains.
All that remained made Dante's stomach twist into a hard knot.
On one side of the room, walls, ceiling and floor had been transmuted into solid gold, not just a layer, but thick, jagged, fused gold like a wave had frozen mid surge and then cooled into ice. At the center of it all, a shape, a man. Frozen in a final stand, arms out, body planted in the doorframe as if bracing himself. His hair caught mid sway. His mouth barely open, his form rigid and still. It wasn't a statue, not really. It was Kazuya. He had become solid gold. He had become the wall. A barricade.
Dante couldn't speak, he couldn't move, not yet.
His eyes traced the gold as his mind tried to process what he was seeing, what had been lost, what had been sacrificed. And then, from the corner of the room, came the sound that shattered him.
A cough. Wet. Weak. Strained.
Dante turned sharply, heart slamming against his chest for a different reason now, his eyes landed on Kaijin.
Collapsed in the corner, slumped against broken equipment. Burned. Bleeding. Barely alive.
Kaijin's breaths were shallow. Each one sounded like it might be his last. He looked up, eyes cloudy but still sharp. Still fighting.
"I… trained him in this room," Kaijin muttered, voice low. "My son… Ryujin… he used to love this place."
Dante blinked through tears, trying to understand. "Your son…?"
"Yes…" Kaijin smiled weakly. "His quirk… it's much like yours, actually… he could grow dragon heads from anywhere… he could shoot fire out of them, a perfect fusion of mine and his mothers…"
There was a pause. A cough. Blood hit the floor.
"Listen, Dante." Kaijin said, fumbling in his belt pouch. His hand trembled, holding out a small, old brass key. "You know… the keyhole you asked about before, go. Open it, I trust you."
Dante hesitated, then nodded and took the key.
He ran across the room, found the keyhole in the wall. He unlocked it with a click, pulled out a small ziplock bag. Inside was another key… and a folded note.
He opened it briefly.
There were coordinates. A location?
Kaijin's son had a hidden hero base. And it seemed like he wanted Dante to find it.
He walked back, eyes burning. Knees weak.
Kaijin looked up at him and managed a faint smile. "Go to the coordinates… learn his techniques. Use his gear, it's… fireproof, perfect for you. He was a genius… even better than me. You need what he knew. Use it all on the people who left his gym a ruin, only if you want to. I will not force you to do anything, if anything, I'd like you to just run away. Go and live a life of freedom, of peace."
Dante nodded, tears streaming down his face.
Kaijin's hand raised slowly, trembling as it reached out, then gently patted Dante's head.
"One more thing…" he said, voice hoarse. "I want you… to absorb me."
Dante froze in place. "No. No—don't say that—"
"Dante." Kaijin's tone was sharp. "I've spent over sixty years fighting. I've seen every fighting style. I know things. Let me live through you. My eyes, you can use my eyes. They can read every movement, every activation of a muscle. Don't let it all die here. It's selfish, but please."
Dante's whole body trembled. "I don't want to lose you."
Kaijin smiled softly. "You're not losing me. I'm giving you everything. Don't let my techniques die with me, let them live through You."
He exhaled one last time… and the life left his eyes.
Dante dropped to his knees, sobbing.
Then, through the pain, through the breaking in his chest—he did it.
Sludge poured out, gently wrapping around Kaijin's body, drawing him in.
The process was slow. Respectful. Painless for Kaijin. Painful for Dante.
Dante felt the warmth rush through him. His muscles bulged. Knowledge. Memories. Muscle memory. Fighting patterns. Footwork. Pressure points. Breathing techniques.
Kaijin's legacy was becoming part of him.
And then—
WHIRR
Spotlight, helicopter blades.
"Drop your weapon!" A voice shouted from above. Red and blue lights flooded through the open roof.
Dante turned, hands raised, eyes wide. "I'm not—he was my master! I tried to save him—!"
A gunshot rang out.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Another voice rang out from the helicopter.
But it wasn't enough.
Two more gunshots.
Blood burst from Dante's side, his shoulder and his thigh. He staggered back.
"I'm going to kill them." Little Dante suddenly appeared and tried to forcibly take control, his hatred burning brighter than ever before.
Dante panicked, with tears streaming down his face and blood on his body, two wings shot out from his back. He launched into the air with a roar of pain, rising through the hole in the roof past the helicopter before little Dante could kill anyone.
The spotlight tried to track him, but he vanished into the night, trailing blood behind him like a broken comet.
Kaijin was gone.
And so was Kazuya?
Dante was alone now, he could probably testify for himself and prove innocent, go back to U.A. And become a hero. But his goal wasn't heroic. He was going to Kill them. And if after he kills them, the world will accept him as a hero? Sure, he'll be a hero. But that wasn't his main goal anymore.
They were going to burn beneath his feet.
…
…
The blinding lights of the police helicopter faded as officers stormed into the ruined gym, weapons drawn, boots crunching over shattered wood and gold dust.
"Secure the perimeter!"
"Clear every room—watch for survivors or hostiles!"
"Medical standby!"
The first squad swept through the scorched training area, scanning for threats, but the room was empty, save for scorched equipment, smeared blood and a golden barricade sealing the brick wall.
Then—an argument broke out by the stairs.
"What the hell were you thinking?!" Barked a senior officer, grabbing a younger cop by the collar. "You opened fire when I specifically told you to hold your fire!"
The younger cop, pale and shaking, stammered, "he—he was covered in blood! I panicked! I thought—he was a villain—"
"You were briefed! No shots unless provoked!" The commander roared. "He was a kid trying to speak and you gunned him down!"
Another officer chimed in, grim. "Thank goodness he was okay enough to fly away, and I'm pretty sure I recognised him, he was in the U.A. Sports festival."
The shooter shrank back. "I—I just thought… with all the heroes around, we never get a real chance to stop one of these villains. I thought—"
"You 'thought' wrong. You're done."
The officer was immediately cuffed and pulled aside, now under arrest. Word spread quickly, discharged on the spot, pending criminal charges.
But then something else changed.
A faint crack echoed from through the gym, then another.
The golden wall—breaking.
Everyone turned.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the gilded barricade, glowing slightly and then—with a loud, echoing snap—a massive chunk of the wall broke off.
And inside—
Kazuya.
He collapsed out of the gold, hitting the ground hard, bloodied, barely breathing.
"Holy—we've got a survivor!"
"Get a stretcher, now!"
Two medics rushed in, sliding to his side. One checked his pulse. "Weak… but he's still alive!"
They strapped him in and moved fast. Everyone cleared a path.
As the paramedics rushed Kazuya out, the gold around him flickered faintly, like it still had life.