The destruction did not stop immediately.
Even after the plaza had already been reduced to rubble, invisible forces continued to tear through the air. Streetlights bent and snapped. Walls collapsed blocks away. Glass rained down like shards of ice.
Mark stood at the center of it all.
His breathing was uneven.
His eyes were unfocused.
Why?
The question echoed endlessly in his mind.
Why did the hero move?
Why at that moment?
Why take the risk?
Mark didn't understand tactics.
He didn't understand hero protocols.
But he understood one thing clearly:
That mistake had cost Maddie her life.
—or so he believed.
His Quirk was still raging unconsciously. Push and pull overlapped without direction. The ground cracked inward. Debris twisted and collapsed. The pressure in the air made breathing nearly impossible.
Then—
A hand rested on his shoulder.
Heavy.
Steady.
Overwhelmingly reassuring.
"It's over, son," a voice said.
"It's alright now."
Mark couldn't lift his head, but he recognized the voice instantly.
All Might.
The flow of power stopped as if the world itself had been commanded to halt. The rubble froze in place. The air stabilized.
Mark's knees trembled.
Overuse had exhausted him completely.
And darkness claimed him.
When he opened his eyes, the sharp scent of antiseptic filled his lungs.
White ceiling.
Beeping monitors.
An IV line in his arm.
A hospital.
Across from him sat a man in a long coat, tired eyes behind thin glasses, files resting on his lap.
"I've been waiting for you to wake up," the man said calmly.
A detective.
Mark tried to sit up.
"M— Maddie!"
His heart raced as he tried to leave the bed. His body felt strong—too strong. Despite everything, it had already begun repairing itself.
The detective stood quickly, placing a firm hand on Mark's shoulder.
"Stop," he said. Not hostile—just firm.
"She's alive."
Mark froze.
"But," the detective continued,
"She's in a coma. Intensive care. You can't see her right now."
Mark's throat tightened. His hands shook.
The detective sat back down.
"I need to ask you some questions about the incident."
Mark didn't respond at first. His eyes stared into nothingness. All he could see was Maddie's body on the ground. Blood. Silence.
"Tell me what happened," the detective said.
Mark spoke.
His voice was calm—but hollow.
He described the criminal.
The gun.
The hostage situation.
Then the hero.
"The criminal wasn't the only one at fault," Mark said quietly.
"The hero… made a stupid decision. He rushed it. He put her at risk."
The detective frowned but continued writing.
"Do you realize," he said slowly,
"that your actions destroyed a large section of the city? Government property. Civilians were injured."
Mark lifted his eyes.
"I know."
Silence filled the room.
The detective closed the file.
"The state has made a decision regarding you," he said.
"Illegal use of a Quirk.
Destruction of government property.
Endangerment of civilians."
Mark's chest tightened.
"You will be brought before a court."
In that moment, Mark understood something fundamental.
In this world, power alone was not enough.
Being a hero did not mean being right.
And sometimes—
Justice did not come before judgment.