The hum of Zone Blackridge's ventilation system whispered through the quiet corridors, a soft, mechanical pulse that underscored the stillness of the late hour. The arena had emptied hours ago, its roar of applause and clashing Quirks now a fading echo, but the weight of the earlier match lingered like a ghost in the air.
The fortress, once a cold bastion of steel and shadow, was alive with subtle signs of transformation—laughter from distant rooms, the clatter of tools as engineers repurposed old bunkers, the faint aroma of bread wafting from communal kitchens. Yet, beneath this newfound warmth, a tension simmered, a reminder of the battles yet to come.
In her private quarters, Mira sat cross-legged on the smooth concrete floor, her back straight, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her violet eyes were closed, her breathing slow and deliberate as she replayed the sparring match in her mind's eye. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her collarbone, not from exertion but from a burning frustration that refused to dissipate.
Her Iron Pulse Quirk had roared through her fists, her Bastion Skin had held against Kael's onslaught, yet she'd been outmaneuvered, outpaced, left grasping at air. The memory of his effortless counters—Flashstep, Flexweave, Kinetic Forge—gnawed at her, a quiet challenge to be better, stronger, faster.
Across the hall, Reina lay sprawled across her bed, her chain-covered boots propped against the wall, the faint jingle of metal filling the silence. A crimson mist swirled idly above her palm, twisting into fleeting shapes—a dagger, a tendril, a spiral—before dissolving back into haze.
Her hair fanned across the pillow, her eyes unfocused, lips twitching as her thoughts churned. The match had been exhilarating, a dance of chaos and power, but Kael's dominance was undeniable. Her Blood Haze had been shattered, her Endless Stride pushed to its limits, and still, he'd barely broken a sweat. She wasn't angry—Reina didn't do anger like that—but the spark of competition burned bright in her chest.
A sharp knock broke the silence. Mira's voice followed, calm but edged with purpose. "You awake, Reina?"
Reina grunted, the mist above her hand dissipating. "Always. Door's open."
Mira stepped inside, her lean frame silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her expression a mix of resolve and quiet agitation. "That match," she said, her voice low but steady. "He didn't even break a sweat. Not a single bead."
Reina scoffed, flipping upright to sit at the edge of her bed, her boots hitting the floor with a soft clink. "Tell me about it. I had three different angles ready to slice him apart—spears, whips, the whole damn arsenal. He blinked, and it was like I was throwing paper at a hurricane." She shook her head, her grin sharp but tinged with frustration. "Bastard's too fast. Too smart."
Mira's lavender eyes narrowed, her gaze drifting to the wall as if she could see the arena through it. "He's getting stronger. Not just physically—his Quirks are sharper, his instincts are tighter. Compared to last week, it's like he's a different person. You noticed?"
"Yeah," Reina said, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. "And it's not just the Quirks. It's him. The way he moves, the way he thinks. He's not just reacting anymore—he's three steps ahead, reading us like open books. It's ruthless, Mira. He's a monster for sure."
A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of their words sinking in. Mira pushed off the doorframe and paced a few steps, her boots clicking against the concrete. "We're his Generals, Reina. We're supposed to be his 'equals', or close to it. But right now? We're not keeping up at all."
Her voice was steady, but there was a rare vulnerability in it, a crack in her usual unshakable demeanor. "I threw everything I had at him—Iron Pulse, Bastion Skin, even Aegis Frame—and he dismantled me without trying. I can't shake the feeling that if we don't evolve, we'll be dead weight."
Reina's grin faded, her eyes narrowing as she considered Mira's words. She leaned back, her hands braced behind her, the faint hum of her Blood Haze filling the air as a tendril coiled around her wrist like a living bracelet. "You're not wrong," she said slowly. "But it's not just about power. Kael's carrying something we don't. All those Quirks, yeah, but it's more than that. It's the weight of this whole damn place, everyone looking to him like he's the answer to everything. That kid's drawing? The way people talk about him like he's some kind of myth? That's pressure we can't even imagine."
Mira stopped pacing, her eyes meeting Reina's. "You think he's cracking under it?"
"Nah," Reina said, shaking her head. "He's too stubborn for that. But it's changing him. You saw his eyes out there—focused, sure, but cold. Like he's already fighting All for One in his head. We need to catch up, Mira, not just for us, but for him. If we're not strong enough to back him up, he'll try to do it all alone. And that'll get him killed."
Mira exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she processed Reina's words. "You're right," she said, her voice quieter now, more resolute. "We can't let him carry this alone. He's not just our leader—he's our friend. Or as close to one as we get in this mess." She crossed her arms again, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "So, what's the plan? How do we close the gap?"
Reina's grin returned, sharp and eager, her eyes glinting with mischief. "We train. Harder. Smarter. We push our Quirks to the breaking point, figure out how to chain them like he does. I'm gonna work on making my Blood Haze faster, less predictable—maybe mix in some new shapes, keep him guessing. You need to get that barrier quirk timing down, maybe use it offensively instead of just turtling up. And next time, we make him sweat. Hell, maybe we make him bleed a little."
Mira chuckled, a rare sound that softened the room's tension. "You're insane, you know that? But I'm in. Let's make him regret underestimating us."
Reina leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And let's be real—if we can land one good hit on him, the look on his face will be worth every bruise."
Mira's smile widened, a spark of determination igniting in her eyes. "Deal. Tomorrow, we start. No mercy."
…
The training hall buzzed with the nervous energy of new recruits, their voices a low hum as they crowded around a smaller arena, a circular platform ringed by steel barriers. The overhead lights cast harsh shadows, illuminating the scuffs and cracks in the concrete from countless sparring sessions.
A tall, cocky boy—barely eighteen, with a shock of red hair and a swagger that screamed overconfidence—stepped into the center, his fists clenched, his chin raised defiantly. "I want to face him," he barked, his voice echoing off the walls. "Equinox. If we're following someone, I wanna know what I'm following. I wanna see what he's got for myself."
The murmurs among the recruits turned to sharp intakes of breath, a ripple of unease spreading through the crowd. A few stepped back, their eyes darting nervously, as if expecting Kael himself to materialize. The boy's challenge hung in the air, bold but reckless, a spark in a room full of kindling.
Reina's voice cut through the tension before she even entered the room. "You sure about that, kid?" The crowd parted as she strode in, rolling her shoulders lazily, her chain-covered boots jingling with each step. A faint crimson mist hissed around her feet, curling upward like smoke, a warning and a promise.
The boy tensed, his bravado faltering for a split second before he squared his shoulders. "What, you gonna stop me?" he shot back, his voice loud but betraying a hint of uncertainty.
Reina stopped a foot away from him, her grin sharp and predatory, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and menace. The crimson mist coiled upward, hovering inches from the boy's face, its edges sharpening into needle-like points. "I'm not stopping you," she said, her voice low and deliberate.
"I'm just gonna tell you what no one else will. Kael's fought people who'd make you look like a paper cut. You think you're tough because you've got a semi-strong Quirk and some attitude? He's faced monsters—real ones, with blood on their hands and Quirks that'd make you cry for your mom."
The boy sneered, his bravado returning as he stepped closer, undeterred by the mist. "I'm not scared of him. I just wanna see what the big deal is."
Mira appeared behind him, her presence quiet but commanding, her violet eyes cold and assessing. She didn't say a word, but her gaze alone was enough to make the boy falter, his shoulders hunching slightly under her scrutiny. The air around her seemed heavier, her aura giving her an almost statuesque quality, unyielding and unbreakable.
Reina's grin didn't waver, but her voice grew colder, sharper. "You wouldn't last ten seconds in the same ring as him, kid. I've seen what he can do—DarkBind wrapping you up before you blink, Flashstep leaving you swinging at air, Kinetic Forge blasting you into the next room. You're not ready. Not even close." She stepped back, the mist dissipating as she crossed her arms. "Train harder. Get stronger. Then maybe you can talk about facing him."
The room stayed silent, the boy's bravado crumbling under the weight of Reina's words and Mira's stare. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his fists unclenching as he stepped back, his challenge unspoken but withdrawn. The recruits dispersed, their murmurs quieter now, a mix of respect and fear settling over them.
…
Kael moved through the base with practiced steps, his long coat trailing behind him, its frayed hem brushing the concrete. The corridors were alive with activity—engineers hauling crates, families settling into repurposed rooms, the faint clatter of dishes from the communal kitchen.
He nodded once or twice to passing members, some of whom bowed deeply, others offering wide-eyed glances of admiration or whispered words of gratitude. He'd told them not to call him a Hero, to see him as just a man fighting for a cause, but they did it anyway, their voices carrying the weight of hope he wasn't sure he could bear.
Near the common room, a young man approached him, his steps hesitant but determined. Kael recognized him—a survivor from Carthis, pulled from beneath debris during the chaos of Varn's fall. His name was Taro, barely twenty, with a nervous energy that belied his quiet strength.
He held a small, cloth-wrapped bundle, his hands trembling slightly as he extended it toward Kael. "I, uh… I made something," he stammered, his voice soft but earnest. "It's not much, but… I thought you should have it."
Kael raised a brow, his expression unreadable as he took the bundle. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a small, hand-carved wooden pendant, its surface etched with a simple but intricate design: a crescent moon cradling a single star, the lines worn smooth by careful hands. It hung on a braided leather cord, unassuming but heavy with meaning.
"My sister used to wear one like this," Taro said, his voice catching. "Before Varn's people took her. She said it reminded her to look up, to find light even in the dark. I thought… someone like you, carrying so much… you might need a reminder to look up, too."
Kael stared at the pendant, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of the moon and star. The weight of Taro's words settled over him, a quiet echo of the little girl's drawing, of her words about following his heart. He felt the familiar ache in his chest, not from battle but from the burden of being seen as more than he was.
He handed the pendant back gently, his voice low but sincere. "I appreciate it, Taro. More than you know. But right now, you need this more than I do. Keep it. Wear it for her. Let it remind you why we're fighting."
Taro's eyes widened, confusion giving way to understanding. He nodded, clutching the pendant tightly, and stepped back, his shoulders straighter, his resolve visibly strengthened.
Kael continued down the corridor, turning toward one of the base's open balconies. The cool night air brushed against his face as he stepped outside, the faint hum of Blackridge's generators blending with the distant sounds of life below. In the courtyard, the little girl who had once called him her Hero laughed as she played tag with a group of other children, her curly hair bouncing in messy puffs. Her smile was unburdened, free, a stark contrast to the horrors she'd endured under Varn's rule. The sight of her, of the life returning to Blackridge, anchored something deep within him.
He stood there for a long moment, his hands gripping the balcony railing, the pendant's image lingering in his mind. "I can't let them down," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible, a vow carried away by the wind.
The weight of the world hadn't lifted, but in that moment, it felt just a little lighter. Kael turned, his coat sweeping behind him, and disappeared back into the corridor, his steps steady, his purpose clear.
The aftershocks of the arena still echoed, not just in the base but in his heart, a reminder that this fight was about more than revenge—it was about building a future worthy of those who believed in him.
…