Chapter 14: Shattered Defenses.
A heavy silence filled the observation room, disturbed only by the faint hum of the screens replaying the fractured wall. The students could only stare, wide-eyed—unable to grasp how a boy so composed could produce such brutal, unrestrained power.
"Did… did he just send Kirishima flying through the wall?" Denki Kaminari broke the silence, his voice trembling as he pointed shakily at the screen. "Kirishima in his hardened state is insanely heavy—and he still got tossed through the air like he was nothing!"
"It's not just about strength… it's that chain," Yaoyorozu said, her gaze sharpening with deep concentration. "It manifested out of nothing—like an extension of his will. I don't understand… I should have a similar kind of quirk, and yet… it feels completely different."
In a corner of the room, apart from the others' chatter, Bakugo stood in quiet analysis, his hands sunk deep into his pockets. A cold fury glinted in his crimson eyes as he stared at the dust drifting from the broken wall.
In the third floor, the dust billowing from the massive crater in the wall was thick and suffocating.
Kurapika stood perfectly still in the ruined hallway, his right arm extended, maintaining the tension on the silver chain that disappeared into the darkness of the adjacent room. The silence stretched for a few heavy seconds, broken only by the sound of crumbling drywall hitting the floor.
Then, a deep, raspy cough echoed from the shadows.
"Man..." Eijiro Kirishima's voice groaned, followed by the sound of heavy debris being shoved aside. "That... was actually unexpected."
A jagged, rock-hard hand reached out of the dust cloud, gripping the edge of the blasted wall. Kirishima pulled himself back into the hallway. His U.A. hero costume was scuffed and covered in gray powder, but his Quirk was still fully active. His skin remained an impenetrable fortress of jagged edges. He looked down at the silver chain still wrapped securely around his ankle, then up at the blonde boy holding it.
"I gotta hand it to you, Kurapika. You're the kind of fighter who thinks three steps ahead!" Kirishima yelled, forcing a fierce, adrenaline-fueled grin onto his face. He slammed his fists together, refusing to back down. "But a real man doesn't stay down after one throw! If you're gonna keep me on a leash, I'll just have to drag you with me!"
Kirishima lunged forward, the chain crashing against the ground behind him as he charged straight at Kurapika like a cornered beast, preparing to deliver a devastating, hardened headbutt.
Kurapika's gray eyes tracked the predictable, linear assault. Kirishima possessed remarkable resilience and a commendable spirit, but his fundamental understanding of combat was severely lacking. He fought to endure pain, whereas Kurapika fought to end it.
His defense relies entirely on absorbing kinetic impact, Kurapika analyzed coldly. But no defense is absolute. If I can push him far enough...
As Kirishima closed the distance, Kurapika dissolved the chain. The silver links vanished into thin air, causing Kirishima to stumble slightly from the sudden loss of resistance.
Before the hardened student could regain his balance, Kurapika shifted his stance. He planted his left foot firmly into the cracked floorboards, anchoring his body. He drew his right arm back, and the latent aura resting quietly within his body responded to his immediate command.
Inside the observation room, Uraraka's pupils dilated, while Mineta's mouth fell slightly open. The entire class fell into a shared, focused silence.
He utilized a highly advanced application of Ko. The ambient Nen flowing through his limbs rushed rapidly up his shoulder, condensing entirely into his bandaged right fist. A ghostly white aura coiled around his knuckles, so faint it was almost imperceptible—yet the air itself seemed to tighten around it.
Off-balance, Kirishima threw a wide, desperate swing at Kurapika.
Kurapika slipped under it, lowering his body before thrusting his fist upward—his aura-laced fist striking the center of Kirishima's hardened stomach.
The impact was catastrophic.
There was no explosion—just a violent rush of air pushed outward on impact, followed by a deafening crack as pure, unadulterated force collided with an unyielding body.
Kirishima's eyes widened to the size of saucers. All the air was violently forced from his lungs in a single, choked gasp. His Quirk prevented his ribs from splintering, but the armor could do absolutely nothing to disperse the overwhelming vertical velocity transferred directly into his center of mass.
Like a cannonball fired from point-blank range, Kirishima was launched straight up into the air.
He slammed into the ceiling of the third-floor corridor. The structural integrity of the simulated building gave way instantly against the combined force. With a thunderous, violent CRASH, Kirishima's rigid body tore through the steel rebar, thick cement, and wooden floorboards above him, disappearing upward in a massive geyser of dust and destruction.
Inside the observation room, the students stared in stunned silence, eyes wide. Even Todoroki was intently focused. And Bakugo—who had dismissed Kurapika as unworthy of standing among them—now watched as he hurled one of the top-ranked students aside.
A few seconds ago
One floor above, in the weapon room, Mina Ashido and Hanta Sero were locked in a desperate struggle.
Ashido slid gracefully across the floor, hurling a wide arc of corrosive acid to keep Dark Shadow at bay. Sero hung from the ceiling by his tape, trying to find an angle to bind the shadowy beast.
Near the window, Tokoyami watched his two opponents with intense focus, keeping Dark Shadow firmly under control.
"Keep it away from the bomb!" Sero yelled, firing another strand. "Kirishima should be back up here any second once he deals with the new—"
The ground beneath them suddenly erupted.
A jagged crater exploded in the dead center of the room. Massive chunks of concrete flew through the air as Eijiro Kirishima shot up through the floor, arcing violently over their heads. He crashed heavily against the far wall near the fake nuclear weapon, slumping to the ground in a motionless heap, his hardened skin slowly fading back to normal flesh.
Ashido shrieked, jumping back to avoid the falling debris. Their toughest teammate, the ultimate shield, had just been punched through a solid building floor.
Sero dropped from the ceiling, his tape dangling uselessly from his elbows as he stared at the gaping, smoking hole in their floor, paralyzed by sheer disbelief.
He leaned forward, peering through it—
—and froze.
Far below, Kurapika stood at the center of the ruined arena, clad in the U.A. training uniform. Dust drifted around him, yet he remained perfectly still. The faint, pale aura clinging to his form was barely visible—more a pressure than a light—yet it carried a quiet, suffocating weight.
He didn't look up. He didn't need to.
Even from above, the sheer presence he exuded made it feel as if the entire battlefield revolved around him.
A heavy, terrifying silence settled over the ruined room.