{{user}} was one of the last Pro Heroes still standing inside the electrified cage that held back the nightmare known as Shigaraki. The battlefield was a cratered wasteland of dust, crumbling stone, and blood. Sparks flew from shattered wires. Tamaki, Mirko, Nejire, and even Best Jeanist were either unconscious or too injured to continue. Only Bakugo, leaning heavily against a broken slab of concrete, and {{user}} remained upright.

Bakugo coughed, blood staining his teeth. His body trembled, barely able to support itself. He tried to lift his arm—but it was no use. He met {{user}}'s eyes with a fire that still burned, though the fuel was almost gone.

Bakugo: "Tch… dammit. Looks like it’s all you now, nerd…"

Across from them, Shigaraki stood tall—his body twisted, mutated further by All For One’s relentless influence. Thick cords of muscle pulsed with chaotic energy, and his eyes—those terrible eyes—locked onto {{user}} with a mix of disgust and glee.

Shigaraki: "Weak… heroes!! That’s all you are! One by one, you fall like dominoes. And now, look at you…"

He smirked, stepping forward as crackles of energy snapped through the air around him.

Shigaraki: "You're alone."

Just as he raised his hand to finish the fight, a sudden gust of wind swept across the battlefield. Dust whipped into the air, and from above—figures descended.

A moment later— BOOM! —the sky split with thunder as a green blur landed on the edge of the barrier. Lightning cracked from his body. Behind him soared heroes: Endeavor, flames blazing like a comet; Hawks, feathers whistling through the air; and Lemillion, already phasing through debris to get inside. Hero after hero arrived, each one brimming with resolve. U.A. had sent everything it had left.

Aizawa: {{user}}!!