In the following week, Raiden dedicated almost all of his time to training Midoriya, and interestingly enough, he did so without using his transformation even once.
No Mewtwo.
No psychic powers.
No telekinesis.
Just his own base physical abilities.
The reason was simple.
Raiden already knew Midoriya possessed absurd potential.
In fact, after spending enough time observing One For All up close, he had started making rough estimations.
Even transformed into Mewtwo, counting all of his current physical capabilities and energy output, Raiden estimated he could only exert around sixty percent of Midoriya's raw potential power.
That estimate didn't even include his Mega forms.
Those were an entirely different discussion.
If he had to guess, Raiden believed that somewhere around level forty or forty-five, he and Midoriya would probably reach a similar baseline in terms of raw output.
Even then, Midoriya might still end up slightly stronger physically.
Their powers have different natures after all.
The power inside that Quirk was ridiculous.
Because of that, Raiden wasn't particularly interested in teaching the boy how to squeeze out more power.
Not yet.
There would be plenty of time for that later.
Instead, he focused on something far more important.
Technique.
Control.
Positioning.
Timing.
The fundamentals that transformed raw power into actual combat ability.
Every day he corrected Midoriya's mistakes.
Every bad habit.
Every predictable movement.
Every unnecessary motion.
Every opening he left in his guard.
Every attack that telegraphed itself before it even began.
The process was brutal.
And repetitive.
And often frustrating for the green-haired boy.
But it worked.
Slowly but surely, Midoriya improved.
By the end of the week, he could actually withstand an exchange of blows for a short period before inevitably getting hit.
A week earlier, he would've been dismantled almost instantly.
Now he could at least force Raiden to acknowledge his attacks.
That alone represented tremendous progress.
And from Raiden's perspective, the improvement was obvious.
There were moments during their sparring sessions where he genuinely had to pay attention.
Moments where Midoriya's timing was almost correct.
Moments where an attack came from an angle he hadn't expected.
Moments where Raiden truly thought:
That one could actually hit me.
Of course, he never allowed it to happen.
There was a reputation to maintain, after all.
The upperclassman couldn't exactly let his student land a clean hit and then spend the rest of the year bragging about it.
Still, the fact that those moments existed at all was proof of Midoriya's growth.
When the week finally came to an end, Raiden handed Midoriya over to his next mentor.
Gran Torino.
From that moment onward, the green-haired boy was no longer his responsibility.
At least not until classes resumed.
Or so Raiden believed.
For now, his role as temporary mentor was finished.
Which meant it was finally time to return to his own duties.
Actual hero work.
As he walked through the city streets on his way toward the bureau, he couldn't help but laugh to himself.
"Seriously..."
He rubbed the back of his head.
"I look like a real teacher nowadays."
"And I'm not even graduated yet."
The thought felt absurd.
Not long ago he had been worrying about his own training.
Now he was mentoring first-years and helping them improve their Quirks.
Life had become strange.
Very strange.
Eventually, Raiden arrived at the Hero Bureau.
The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted by the familiar atmosphere of organized chaos.
Heroes.
Assistants.
Analysts.
Support staff.
Everyone moved from one place to another.
Yet despite all the movement, almost nobody paid attention to anyone else.
Everyone was too focused on their own responsibilities.
"As always."
Raiden sighed.
"So cold."
The place hadn't changed at all.
Not that he expected it to.
With his hands inside his pockets, he headed toward the upper floors where he was supposed to meet Kaina.
This time he decided to use the elevator.
Truthfully, he had always liked it.
Which was somewhat ironic.
The entire structure was made of reinforced glass, allowing anyone inside to see the city as the elevator ascended.
The view was incredible.
Buildings stretched toward the horizon.
Traffic flowed through the streets below.
The afternoon sunlight reflected against countless windows.
It was peaceful.
For a moment, Raiden simply watched.
Honestly, he wasn't even sure why he liked it so much.
He could literally fly.
The elevator should have been slower and less convenient in every possible way.
And yet...
He still preferred it.
"Whatever."
He shrugged.
"I just like it."
Eventually the elevator reached the upper levels.
The doors opened.
Raiden stepped out and immediately headed toward Kaina's office.
The route had become so familiar that he could probably walk it blindfolded.
When he finally arrived, he knocked on the door.
No answer.
He waited a few seconds.
Still nothing.
So, naturally, he let himself in.
Inside, Kaina was already there.
She sat behind her desk with a cup of coffee in one hand and several documents spread before her.
Without even looking up, she grabbed another cup and slid it across the desk toward him.
Raiden caught it effortlessly.
Then he took a seat.
The moment he saw her expression, however, he immediately knew something was wrong.
Kaina wasn't smiling like she started to do lately.
She wasn't relaxed.
She wasn't even pretending to be relaxed.
That alone was enough to raise alarms.
Raiden took a sip of coffee.
Then looked at her.
"What happened?"
Kaina exhaled slowly.
Her eyes moved toward one of the folders on her desk.
Then she finally spoke.
"We have something tricky to investigate."
She paused for a moment.
And judging by the seriousness in her voice, whatever it was, it wasn't going to be pleasant.
Kaina looked directly at him.
"I believe you won't like it."
When Kaina handed him the papers, Raiden sat down and took a long sip of his coffee. Of course he wasn't going to like this case. It was the religious maniac again—the one who used his Quirk to turn people into twisted religious figures, treating human beings as if they were materials for some grotesque form of worship.
"He has become more active. Four people this week alone," Kaina said, her expression serious. "I reduced the radius of investigation to this city and the two nearby ones. I've been tracking his pattern for a while now. He's close, very close. He hasn't attacked here or in our neighboring city yet, but he has been active in several others."
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.
"At first it didn't look like a pattern. It seemed random. But after he started moving across Japan, it became obvious. He's heading north, toward our area. Another thing I noticed is that he avoids heavily guarded cities with large hero presences. I think he uses those cities as temporary shelters and hunts in the surrounding areas. Because of that, I started comparing travel records, looking for people who had been moving in the same direction during the same periods of time."
"And there were matches?" asked Raiden, immediately interested.
"Of course. At first there were far too many. Thousands of possibilities. But the farther he moved, the smaller the list became. Then I noticed something." Kaina tapped one of the files. "He was using priests to hide."
"Priests?" Raiden asked, almost laughing. "Are you joking? He really is obsessed with the whole religious theme."
"Apparently so," Kaina replied. "Every time a religious caravan or church group moved, he moved with them. There were two groups of priests following the same route. It's part of something called the Procession of Help. The name sounds simple, but the mission is genuine."
She opened another file and slid it across the desk.
"It starts in southern Japan. A large group of priests travels north through the country. Along the way, some of them stay behind in different cities to help local communities, organize food drives, repair buildings, and start social projects. They move constantly, which makes them difficult to track individually."
Raiden looked over the documents while listening.
"So he's been hiding among the good ones," he muttered. "Using them as cover. That's clever, but he should have known it would eventually leave a trail."
"Exactly." Kaina nodded. "And why do you think he allowed that trail to exist? Why would someone this careful leave breadcrumbs behind? A mistake?"
She raised an eyebrow, clearly inviting him to continue the thought.
Raiden remained silent for a few seconds, reading through the reports.
Then he clicked his tongue.
"What an arrogant son of a bitch."
It sounded like a question, but it wasn't.
"He wants us to find him, doesn't he?"
"Of course he does," Kaina answered immediately. "Typical serial killer behavior. He wants attention. He wants recognition. He wants us to notice him. Then, once we're close enough, he'll probably disappear again."
"He wants to play with us," Raiden said as he continued reading. "He wants us to know he's responsible. He wants us to see his work, understand his message, acknowledge his superiority, and then lose him again. It's all ego."
The more he read, the more disgusted he became.
"He wants to prove he's smarter than everyone chasing him," Raiden concluded. "It's almost textbook behavior."
"Exactly." Kaina pointed at him with her coffee cup. "Which means we need to be careful. If he expects us to investigate one path, we investigate another. We leak information to the press, make him think we're focusing on the wrong leads, and use that to corner him."
Raiden nodded slowly.
"Sounds good."
He returned his attention to the files, turning page after page.
Honestly, the contents were disgusting.
The photographs, the reports, the witness statements—every detail only reinforced the fact that they weren't dealing with an ordinary criminal.