The night clung to the city like a velvet curtain, thick and silent. Inside his small room, Izuku Midoriya sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, the grimoire open before him like an ancient window to a world he was only beginning to understand. His fingers traced the delicate, glowing runes etched into the worn leather, each symbol humming faintly beneath his touch.
The vision—the vivid, harrowing glimpse of the Avengers' last stand—refused to leave him. It haunted his dreams, slipping into every quiet moment like a whisper of fate.
Why had he seen it? Why now?
His breath caught as his eyes scanned the page, alighting on a name written in swirling script: Mjolnir.
Power. Legacy. Names.
In the magic woven through the grimoire, names were not mere labels. They were keys—binding forces that shaped reality itself. To speak a name was to call upon its essence, to command a part of the world.
Izuku's heart pounded. Could he wield such power? Should he?
A sudden knock startled him. The door creaked open, and Inko slipped inside quietly, concern etched on her gentle face.
"Izuku," she said softly, sitting beside him. "You've been restless lately. You can talk to us, you know."
He hesitated, then nodded. " I had a vision about a team of heroes. I think Vision was one of them. The Avengers. I think I'm part of something bigger than I imagined."
Inko smiled sadly. "We may not understand all of it, but you're not alone. Your father and I—we'll protect you."
He swallowed the lump in his throat, grateful for their love even as the shadows of destiny pressed down.
The next day, Momo arrived, eyes bright with curiosity.
"You've been reading about runes and names," she observed, flipping through pages of her own notes.
Izuku nodded. "Names have power. I tried to speak one aloud—Agamotto—and something happened."
She leaned closer. "Show me."
Together, they delved deeper into the grimoire's secrets, testing spells, inscribing runes in the air, and weaving words that shimmered with ancient might.
But magic was fickle, and one mistake summoned a luminous figure—an echo of forgotten power.
"I am a sentinel of the names," it intoned. "Speak wisely, bearer of the grimoire."
Izuku met its gaze, heart steady. "I want to learn."
Far away, the Watcher's gaze lingered on the boy, measuring, waiting.
"The child of paradox," it murmured. "His name will shape worlds."
As Izuku uttered a forbidden name, the room exploded in light, and a distant vault began to tremble—its seal weakening.
The true battle was only beginning.