The loser of the old age and the darling of the new age crashed into each other with savage force.
The Villain called Teacher knocked aside a fist that came flying at him with a speed that did not lose even to his own, and inwardly he was stunned.
"This brat is a singularity. His Quirk is one thing, but the human himself is excessive to an absurd degree."
In the era of upheaval brought on by the emergence of Quirks, he had been the ruler of the dark.
With power that existed beyond common sense, he had become a demon king and a dictator.
Strength far beyond anyone else of his generation, a meticulous mind, and even the charisma to draw people in.
He was a man born to conquer an age.
"That’s why I can tell. This one too has the makings of a king."
The Quirk he had given his younger brother had twisted into something else, creating his destined rival and leaving him in a form barely fit to be called human, but he did not regret it.
His own time was too precious to waste on regretting the past.
A king did not wallow in sentiment. He had cherished his brother, so he gave him a Quirk. Their thoughts differed, so they clashed.
That was all.
After all, was it not natural for the protagonist to have a fated rival?
When he looked at All Might, the destined nemesis born from his own actions, he felt displeasure and danger on one hand, yet on the other he admired the colossal existence his brother’s ideals had created.
A mighty enemy. That was what All Might was to him.
But this one was different.
"His methods differ, but he’s my kind. I can’t leave him alive."
At the root of it all, nothing could truly be accomplished through All Might’s way.
A nation with a crime rate hovering around five percent? A Symbol of Peace?
All of it was an illusion.
Nothing more than a temporary phenomenon created by one individual’s superhuman might.
If one forcibly bent the flow of the ages, which turned in cycles like spring blooming, summer flourishing, autumn bearing fruit, and winter withering it away again, how long could it last?
You could not make flowers bloom forever just because you loved spring, nor could you make fruit ripen forever just because you loved autumn.
In the end, what All Might was doing amounted to no more than that.
Forcing spring to stay and keeping the flowers in bloom.
A self-satisfaction that endured and endured, only to be surrendered at last to the passage of time.
"Fast. And strong. But that isn’t what makes him truly frightening..."
As he blocked attacks that seemed to leap across space in flashes, he thought.
The attacks pouring down at random, tracing jagged, irregular circles like a sea urchin’s spines, were dangerous.
He evaded what had to be evaded and blocked what had to be blocked against those precisely calculated strikes, all while staring into the boy’s eyes.
Pride, rage, exhilaration, madness, and cold reason.
The sight of all those emotions tangled together, burning in a red glow, reminded him of his youth, when he had first resolved to become a demon king.
He had been watching Kirishima for quite some time.
At first, it was the strength that did not suit his age that caught his eye, but the more he watched, the more he realized that was not all.
The way he forged his own strength through relentless refinement, his skill beyond his years, and the charisma with which he was already building a power base of his own made him shiver.
He walked the line between legality and illegality with cunning, made people his own, and seized real authority.
This boy was faithfully treading the royal road.
"Magnificent, boy. In all my long years, I have never seen strength like that at your age. But that is not all. You have the power to move people. That is even more remarkable."
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
At his words, the fierce clash briefly eased.
Best Jeanist kept looking for an opening to bind him, but no opportunity came.
Regardless of Jeanist’s growing impatience, the conversation continued.
"If you continue as you are now, you could certainly become a great ruler. But what remains at the end of that path? By your method, even after becoming the ruler of the world, you would still have to watch the ignorant masses and conform to their standards. Of course, from what I see in you, if there is something that absolutely must be done, you would find a way to do it anyway."
"Not bad for someone meeting me for the first time. So?"
"But if it must be done anyway, why take the long and complicated road? Why should a ruler care about the opinions of the ruled? Wouldn’t it be better to simply seize the leash and make them obey? Doesn’t that frustrate you?"
"I’d be lying if I said it never did. But what does that have to do with you?"
At Kirishima’s answer, he smiled with the only mouth left visible beneath the mask.
It was not an irresistible offer, but it was time to cast at least the kind of proposal that could become a seed.
"Come to me. If you do, you will be able to do anything. You can make the whole world kneel and swear obedience. You will receive the awe of livestock staring up in terror. Become a demon king. You have the right to it."
Kirishima tilted his head.
He spent a brief moment wondering why this man had suddenly started spouting such nonsense, then gave a bitter smile.
If he accepted, the man would eliminate a powerful enemy and gain an ally at the same time.
And if he refused?
Even if not now, planting a small seed in Kirishima’s heart would still be a gain.
At the same time, Best Jeanist had heard the offer as well, which meant a seed of suspicion had been planted there too.
He truly was an enemy with a dangerous mind.
"I probably do have the right. Whatever it is, I’ve got the right for it. But mister mask, I thought you knew me pretty well. Turns out you only know the shell. You’re right that I want power. Military power, political power, money, all of it."
Kirishima spoke as he felt the force coursing through every cell in his body.
This power he had gained in a new world always gave him a sense of omnipotence.
But he was not drunk on power.
"But that’s more like a condition for being free. It’s not my goal. So the negotiation is over. I had no intention of agreeing no matter what you said, but if you wanted to negotiate, you shouldn’t have touched my friend."
"Hm. Friend? Do you truly have such a thing? In the end, are they not all inferior to you?"
"If you knew it was pathetic, you should’ve stopped poking at it. You’re old enough to know a person’s worth isn’t decided by ability, aren’t you? More than that, if I joined hands with you, my parents would be heartbroken. I’m not doing that."
Watching Kirishima speak so boldly, he let out a dry laugh.
So even a boy with the makings of a king treasured his family?
Of course he did.
That only made Kirishima more appealing to him.
He had never believed the common saying that power meant having no parents and no siblings.
That only meant the one who held power lacked the right to it.
One who truly had the right could love his family, because no one could threaten him.
Really, truly, the boy resembled him so much.
Tomura, whom he had brought in and raised as a mockery of All Might and Nana, was still immature and weak, but he had believed the boy could still become a future ruler.
And yet the child before his eyes shone so brilliantly that it stirred his greed.
"Is that so? What a pity. Then if those parents were gone, could you do such a thing?"
"Who knows. Even then, I don’t think I’d join hands with you. You probably know that much already, don’t you?"
Even when deliberately provoked, the brat only gave a crooked grin and tossed back an insolent answer.
It was amusing.
At the same time, it was dangerous.
A puppy small enough to fit in your palm could be raised as something cute, but a wolf that grew wild and reached shoulder height was another matter entirely.
All the more so when there was not a shred of goodwill between them.
To take in and raise someone who did not look up at him, but saw himself as a rival for the throne?
Absurd.
"A fair point. Then die. You are a talent worth regretting, but it cannot be helped. You are far too dangerous to leave alive."
Stacking several Quirks that enhanced his physical abilities, he thrust a hand toward Kirishima.
With a massive shock, the fallen king and the king of the future collided.
Against fists and kicks, elbows and knees that came tearing in, splitting instants apart, black tendrils drawn from his fingertips ravaged everything in every direction.
Kirishima could not avoid them all, and after blocking several, he felt his whole body ring.
The method of gaining power through explosion rather than combustion raised him, if only temporarily, to a level approaching All Might, but the price was steep.
That rough, savage power raced through his veins and muscle fibers as if it would tear them apart, rampaging as though it might burst out of his body at any moment.
Because of that, every time he blocked an attack, he took the impact from both outside and within.
"You’re the one who injured All Might, aren’t you?"
"It seems All Might told you his circumstances. Though it doesn’t look as if he gave you One For All."
Kirishima slipped past an attack by a margin as thin as a sheet of paper and bared his sharp teeth.
"I only guessed and took a stab at it. He’s too honest to act."
Even as they spoke, attacks crossed through defense and evasion without pause.
An elbow came slashing down diagonally like a blade.
As he blocked an attack that would have cut an ordinary person apart through their guard, he looked at the boy behind the mask.
A body overflowing with life, and a mere fifteen-year-old creating a display of technique so precise and beautiful it looked like art.
For once, he felt envy.
He had always prided himself on the fact that his essence had never changed since the day he first set his will.
But even so, the passage of time had taken much from him and given much as well.
Did finding his eyes drawn to youth mean he had become an old man?
Fist met fist, and a storm erupted.
"Ha! You’re disgustingly strong! How many people did you devour to build up this much power?"
"I do not eat humans. I merely take their lives and their Quirks. Though you do not seem the sort to care about such distinctions."
"That’s true. I’m not that nosy."
Even as powerful shockwaves spread in all directions, Kirishima gritted his teeth at the sight of that hard mask, whatever it had been made from.
His shark-like teeth scraped against it with an unpleasant sound.
He was still holding on, but the pain was steadily getting worse.
Bone and muscle were beginning to reject the commands of his brain, and his heart screamed under the wildly accelerating beat.
His mind, gradually growing dim, began to sink until only a single obsession remained: he had to bring down the enemy before him.
The field of perception he had spread wide to grasp his surroundings had shrunk as far as it could, leaving him focused only on the foe in front of him.
Time slowed, and space darkened.
With the feeling that only the two of them remained in the world, Kirishima unleashed the techniques he had honed.
Deadly finishing blows that would steal life if allowed through even once were unleashed without restraint.
Looking at Kirishima, he felt delight.
"As I thought. A child with the qualities of a king."
Anyone who looked upon him shrank back.
Overwhelming force, power, intelligence, influence.
And beyond all that, the pressure born from long years of keeping humanity beneath his feet and using them made people feel small.
To exaggerate a little, mere novices would not even dare bare their teeth at him.
But Kirishima had been fearless from the very start.
He carried himself like someone who never once thought himself lacking, with the confidence that he was meant to sit upon the throne.
At the same time, he had been sharpening the blade that would seize that throne.
His martial strength, wealth, and authority were still lacking, but he could tell.
This small boy was already a king.
"Excellent! Boy! I praise you. You’ve done well to come this far."
Though Kirishima’s speed was terrifying, he dodged the boy’s left hand as it came in along a path he had seen again and again.
At that instant, the fist opened wide and became a palm.
For a split second, his vision was blocked by that large, broad hand, and in the moment he faltered, Kirishima’s high kick blazed in.
Fortunately, he had never judged things by sight to begin with, so he managed to block it, but his balance wavered for an instant.
"Jeanist!"
Kirishima’s shout burst out at that exact moment.
He felt his own pants tighten on their own and bind his legs.
Jeanist had not been taken out by the first blow, but he had suffered a serious wound and had been unable to rejoin the fight.
Now, with his feet bound, the final strike came flying in.
Watching the vivid hexagon of a red-glowing fist rush toward him, he smiled.
"Indeed. Magnificent talent."
The moment that would decide fate came for him.
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