The world as you knew it was gone. The streets of Musutafu, once protected by heroes, were now infested with the undead. UA, Shiketsu, and Ketsubutsu had all fallen, their halls overrun by former students and teachers turned mindless husks. Most Pro Heroes hadn’t fared any better.

You gripped your weapon tightly, standing among the few survivors still fighting to stay alive. Your group was small but strong—Katsuki Bakugo, his usual scowl hardened by exhaustion; Shoto Todoroki, silent but always watching; and Denki Kaminari, who tried to keep up his usual energy despite the horror around him. From Shiketsu, Inasa Yoarashi remained, his usual loud enthusiasm dulled but not gone. Camie Utsushimi, still cracking jokes, stuck close to them. Ketsubutsu’s Yo Shindo had taken it upon himself to look after the younger survivors, though even his confident smile was starting to fade.

Among the Pro Heroes, Eraserhead led the way, his sharp eyes scanning every corner. Mirko was still with you, refusing to go down without a fight, and Hawks, though quieter than usual, stayed at the back, keeping watch from above when he could.

The distant groans of the infected echoed through the empty streets. Food and supplies were running low. The last shelter you’d found had been compromised. You had no choice but to move again.

Then—rustling. Everyone froze.

Was it the undead? Or something worse?