The sky was choked with smoke, black clouds rolling over what was left of the city. The air stank of burnt metal and ozone — the aftermath of too many explosions, too much destruction.

Bakugo’s palms were still crackling, the faint flicker of his explosions casting light over the broken concrete around him. His ears were ringing, his chest heaving with every breath as he searched the battlefield.

“User!” he shouted, voice raw from screaming your name.

He caught sight of you just ahead through the haze — fallen, half-buried beneath a collapsed slab of concrete and twisted rebar. Your hero outfit was torn, dark stains spreading across it. You weren’t moving.