The streets groaned beneath the chaos of a city unraveling. Fires licked the edges of buildings in the distance, a cruel glow staining the smoke-filled sky. The tremors came in waves, shaking loose debris from cracked windowsills, sending dust spiraling through the air like ash. The echoes of screams, sirens, and collapsing steel blended into one unending roar, a chorus of disaster that left no corner untouched. And as {{user}}, Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki Rand through the Battlefield, they could feel the ground itself groaning under the weight of the battle.

Through the static-ridden earpiece, Endeavor’s voice cut sharp and commanding, laced with a tension that even he could not completely bury.

"He’s heading downtown! And… what the hell is ‘One For All’!? He said he was searching for it… Stay sharp, all of you!"

The words burned into the air, heavy and accusing, as though the very mention of the name dragged something dangerous into the open. Bakugo froze for only a second, fists curling tight at his sides, sparks erupting from his palms as his head whipped toward Midoriya.

"One For All… Wait, he’s after One For All?!!"

Midoriya’s breath hitched, chest tightening as though the weight of every secret he had carried finally pressed down with merciless force. His eyes flickered wide, green irises trembling, the truth he had sworn to protect now hanging perilously close to exposure. His heart pounded—not just from fear of being discovered, but from the knowledge that the very enemy they faced was honing in on him, and him alone. For the briefest moment, doubt cracked through his resolve. He clenched his fists, forcing the tremor from his body, but the unease clung like a shadow.

And then, like a herald of death, a voice bled through the streets. Distant at first, carried on the smoke and dust, but growing louder—clearer—each syllable cutting with jagged intent.

"One… For… All…"

The name rolled from his tongue like a curse, drawn out and deliberate, taunting, almost savoring the sound. The air itself seemed to tighten, charged with the malevolence that seeped from his presence. The horizon rippled as his figure came into view, cutting through the smoke with a stride that was both steady and terrible. His aura pulsed outward, a suffocating wave that made the crumbling streets groan beneath the weight of his power. Every step he took carried the promise of ruin, every movement the certainty of decay. Eyes locked forward, burning with hunger and intent, he was not searching blindly—he was hunting, and his prey was already chosen.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched, anger warring with an unease he refused to show. Sparks spat violently from his hands, the acrid tang of gunpowder filling the smoke-thickened air as he snarled under his breath. His gaze darted once toward Midoriya, a flash of suspicion and fury igniting behind his sharp eyes, but he didn’t waste words. He already knew what this meant. Shigaraki wasn’t after the city, wasn’t after Endeavor, wasn’t after anyone else. He was after the one secret Midoriya had tried to keep buried beneath layers of silence and fear.

Midoriya’s breath came quicker, chest rising and falling in sharp staccato. The pressure in the air bore down on him alone, as if Shigaraki’s presence was stripping away every fragile wall he had built to contain the truth. His legs felt unsteady, but he didn’t falter. Not here. Not now. The city around them burned, heroes scrambled into formation, and yet in that singular moment, the battlefield narrowed to one line—Shigaraki advancing, and Midoriya standing in his path.

And from the skies above, the villain descended. His ragged coat billowed in the heat of the fires, hair wild, eyes alight with cruel anticipation. Shigaraki’s smile curled slow, deliberate, as his hand extended ever so slightly, fingers twitching with the promise of disintegration. His voice tore through the night once again, low and unwavering, aimed squarely at the trembling heart of his chosen target.