"Impossible... impossible... impossible... impossible..."
In a dimly lit room, the flickering screen of a battered TV cast distorted shadows against the peeling walls. Tomura Shigaraki's bloodshot eyes twitched, locked onto the figure moving on screen with unshakable dominance—Madara.
"That can't be right," Tomura rasped, his fingers scratching compulsively at his neck, flakes of skin falling to the floor. "How can he have so many Quirks?"
The broadcast replayed the scene again: Madara descending like a storm, smashing the arena beneath him with a single punch, yet somehow leaving his opponent untouched. Not a scratch. Just fear. Raw, unfiltered fear.
Tomura's voice cracked. "This is just like Sensei… He's another monster."
From the corner of the dark room, a low, hollow voice answered him.
"Shikakumu… keep an eye on him," it ordered. "And also—Izuku Midoriya."
A presence stirred from the shadows. A tall man, draped in black gang-style clothing, stepped forward. His exposed arms bore jagged scars, and his face was partially obscured by a cold, mechanical mask.
"This Madara… he can be used," the voice mused thoughtfully. "From what you've described, he's not exactly your ideal hero. He's no All Might clone."
Tomura didn't respond. His eyes remained fixated on the screen.
Madara stood on the battlefield like a war god—unmoved, untouchable, and terrifying.
"A seed buried in darkness," the masked man said. "Just one drop of water, and it will sprout... but when it does, will it bloom—or explode?"
Tomura trembled. "He's a time bomb…"
"Exactly. That's why you don't touch him carelessly," the man warned. "Not until we find his weakness."
"Yes, Sensei."
The voice in the dark lingered. "And if his Quirks are similar to mine… then we may have more in common than we thought."
Meanwhile, in the roaring heart of the U.A. stadium, Present Mic's voice boomed like a thunderclap.
"The thrilling first round has come to a close! Let's hear it for the victors!"
Cheers erupted around the arena.
"Advancing to the next round, we have: Izuku Midoriya, Madara, Tokoyami Fumikage, Sero Hanta, Iida Tenya, Katsuki Bakugo, and Shoto Todoroki!"
"Amazing!" Present Mic exclaimed, clapping his hands. "All of them from Class 1-A?! What kind of monster class is this?!"
Down on the arena floor, the seven students walked toward the center, lined up shoulder to shoulder, awaiting instructions. The energy buzzing from the crowd was electric.
From the elevated platform, Midnight stepped forward with a hand on her hip, her trademark confident smirk returning.
"Everyone must have noticed by now—this year's sports festival is a bit special," she began. "With only seven winners, one of you will get a bye and advance straight to the semi-finals."
She spun around dramatically and produced a large velvet box. "Inside this box are seven balls. Six are white. One is black. The one who draws the black ball is the lucky one this round!"
"A draw of fate," Present Mic whispered dramatically into the mic. "Ohhh boy, here we go!"
"If we all draw at the same time, then the probability is fair," Iida commented, adjusting his glasses with scholarly precision.
"But fewer matches means fewer chances to showcase our abilities," Tokoyami muttered. "I'd rather earn my victories than be handed them."
He stepped forward first, hands calm and composed. The others followed, each lining up beside Midnight.
"No objections?" Midnight asked with a teasing tilt of her head.
"No!" came the chorus.
"Alright then," Midnight took a step back, smiling brightly. "Three... two... one!"
Each student reached into the box and pulled out a ball.
Tokoyami looked down and froze.
A black ball.
"…No…" he whispered, blankly.
His mind went momentarily white. Of all the outcomes—why this?
Midnight raised her voice. "And the lucky bystander is… Class 1-A's Tokoyami Fumikage!"
The crowd clapped politely, but Tokoyami's expression barely changed. He seemed more troubled than pleased.
"Teacher," he started hesitantly, turning to Midnight, "I'd prefer—"
Midnight waved him off. "Sorry, rules are rules. You're heading to the rest area."
"But—"
"No buts. Take it as a blessing and prepare for the semi-final," she said firmly.
Tokoyami was escorted away by the staff, occasionally glancing back like he'd left something unfinished behind.
Midnight turned back to the remaining six.
"Congratulations for making it this far," she addressed them. "But now the real fights begin. Every one of you is strong—there are no weaklings left. The next round won't be won with luck."
The giant screen above flickered to life with the updated bracket.
The first match lit up.
Madara vs. Izuku Midoriya
Gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire.
Midoriya's heart immediately sank into his stomach.
"…Madara?" he whispered, sweat prickling down his neck.
Images flashed through his mind—craters, shockwaves, fighters giving up in fear. Kirishima's trembling body. The sheer power Madara held in reserve.
No, this wasn't like fighting Bakugo or Todoroki. This was something else entirely.
"Midoriya, you're up," Midnight called.
Izuku didn't respond.
"Midoriya?" she repeated, louder this time.
"A-Ah! Yes!" He jolted to attention. Somewhere along the way, Madara had already stepped forward and entered the arena, waiting calmly.
Midoriya took a deep breath and stumbled forward.
As he entered the ring, Midnight leaned close and whispered, "Try not to pass out, okay?"
Izuku gave a shaky laugh.
Across the arena, Madara stood like an unmoved stone. Calm, unbothered, arms crossed.
"Don't worry," Madara said with a cool smile. "I won't kill you."
His tone was light—but the weight behind his words was suffocating.
Midnight rolled her eyes and retreated to the sideline, giving them space.
"Prepare…"
Midoriya inhaled sharply, summoning every ounce of courage he had.
"Start!"
BOOM
Izuku activated One For All, his boots cracking the stone beneath him as he surged forward. He launched a punch straight at Madara's chest, fully intent on striking first.
Madara didn't even blink.
He vanished.
Midoriya's punch sliced through the air uselessly.
Before he could react, Madara reappeared behind him, tapping him lightly on the back with two fingers.
It was like being hit by a cannonball.
Izuku flew forward, flipping twice before slamming onto the ground face-first. He coughed, dust billowing around him.
"Get up," Madara said simply. "I know you've got more."
Midoriya groaned, pushing himself up with trembling arms. "I'm not… going down that easily!"
"Oh?" Madara's lips curved slightly. "Then let's make it interesting."
Without warning, Madara removed the limiters he'd placed on himself.
His body flickered, and in less than a heartbeat, he appeared again in front of Midoriya, fist coiled.
Midoriya barely managed to reinforce his limbs with One For All before Madara struck.
The shockwave shattered the air.
Izuku blocked with both arms, skidding backward dozens of meters, but remained standing.
Madara nodded. "Good. At least you're not as soft as you look."
The crowd was dead silent.
They weren't watching a battle anymore.
They were witnessing a massacre barely held in check.
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A/N: Advanced Chapters have been uploaded on my Patreon, please do check it out, it will mean a lot to me
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