The forest quaked, an explosion's blast scattering embers through the mist, Aizawa's comms hissing with urgency: "All teams, fall back! Multiple hostiles in the zone, not part of the sim!" A cold, mocking laugh coiled through the trees, shadows flitting in the fog like predators. Zion stood over the defeated All for One lackey, his stolen blade Quirk sharp in his veins, Momo gripping his arm, her neck streaked with dried blood. Her eyes, raw from witnessing his All for One theft, held trust laced with dread. Haruto's body lay in the dirt, blood pooling, Iida clutching a slashed leg, Jiro barely conscious. Dozens of enemies, closing fast. Zion's All-Seeing Eye strained, catching no stats, only shapes in the haze, too many to fight with just Lightspeed and Ironclad.
Need more firepower or we're done, Zion thought, Momo's Creation Quirk the key to outgunning this swarm—spawning blades, bombs, anything. He'd meant to borrow it, like a loan, but All for One was a greedy bastard, and deep down, he knew it might not give back. Still, he needed her trust, especially after saving her. He grabbed her shoulders, voice low, eyes boring into hers. "Momo, we're boxed in, and your Quirk could save us. Let me borrow it—make us weapons, shields. You in?"
We're fucked without more juice, Zion thought, his Lightspeed and Ironclad not enough for this swarm. Momo's Creation Quirk—spawning weapons, shields, anything—could turn the tide, but taking it without her nod felt wrong, not after she'd seen his truth. He grabbed her shoulders, voice rough, eyes locked on hers. "Momo, we're surrounded, and I need your Quirk. I can borrow it, make us an arsenal, but only if you say yes. You cool with that?"
Her breath hitched, her gaze darting to Haruto's body, then back to Zion, his face hard but honest, the guy who'd saved her from a blade to the throat. She stepped closer, trembling, and kissed him—hard, lips soft but desperate, tasting of salt and blood. Pulling back, her voice was low, fierce. "You saved my life, Zion. I'd give you anything. Take it." Her appeal, now sky-high at 100, felt like a vow, her trust a blade sharper than his.
Zion didn't hesitate, his All for One pulsing, a faint black-red glow wrapping Momo's arm as he borrowed her Creation Quirk, not stealing, just tapping it. Her energy dipped, but she stood firm, nodding. The Quirk flooded him—complex, endless, a catalog of objects at his fingertips. He grinned, crude and wild, lust for her body and power spiking, but shoved it down. "Stay behind me," he said, crafting a steel sword from his palm, the weight perfect, his mind already spinning traps.
The enemies hit like a wave—fifteen, maybe more, no masks, Quirks blazing. A man with molten fists hurled lava, a woman with whip-like vines lashed out, others spitting ice, sound waves, spikes. Zion's team scrambled, Tsuyu's tongue snaring a spike-thrower, slamming them into Shoji's grip, his arms crushing their ribs. Kaminari's voltage stunned an ice-wielder, but a vine whipped his leg, blood welling. Iida, hobbling, tackled a sound-waver, his engines coughing. Jiro's earjacks sent a weak pulse, toppling one, but the swarm pressed in.
Zion roared, Lightspeed flashing, Momo's axe cleaving the molten man's arm, lava hissing as he screamed. He crafted a spiked chain mid-stride, flinging it to trap a vine-woman, her whips tangled. Ironclad hardened his fist, smashing a sound-waver's jaw, bone crunching. The Creation Quirk was a war machine—grenades, spears, nets poured from his skin, each draining his stamina but carving through the enemy. He lobbed a flashbang, blinding four, then slashed with his blade Quirk, shallow cuts dropping them. Her power's a fucking arsenal, he thought, Momo's kiss a fire in his chest, her loss a weight he couldn't face.
Momo crouched behind the shield, eyes on Zion, her hands useless, her face a storm of shock and gratitude. Zion crafted a barricade, blocking a lava blast, shielding Kaminari as he coughed in smoke. Tsuyu's tongue cleared a path, but a new wave hit—six more, one with a quake Quirk shaking the ground, splitting roots. Zion crafted a taser, zapping the quake-man, his tremors stopping as he fell, twitching.
The forest was a battlefield—bodies scattered, blood on bark, mist thick with ash. Zion's cuts burned, ribs bruised, but the creation Quirk kept him deadly, spawning knives, traps, even a fucking crossbow he fired, pinning a spike-thrower's leg. Shoji took a vine hit, grunting, but crushed his attacker. Iida's engines died, his body slumping. Jiro's pulse faded, her strength gone. Tsuyu's leaps slowed, her ribbit strained. Zion crafted a smoke screen, covering their fallback to a rocky ridge, the barricade their last stand.
Hopefully, a roar broke through—heroes, storming the ridge. All Might led, his silhouette massive, his fist flattening a lava-man, the ground cracking. Endeavor's flames surged, burning vines to ash. Midnight's whip cracked, her scent dropping a sound-waver. Aizawa's scarf snagged three, his eyes killing their Quirks. Pros—Hawks, Cementoss—swept in, mopping up. All Might's voice boomed, "Stand strong, young heroes! We've got this!" His punch launched a quake-woman into the trees, her scream cut short.
Zion paused, Momo's Quirk still flowing, crafting a final spear as the fight died down. All Might's presence was a sledgehammer—unbreakable, the face of hero lies Zion loathed, yet his power demanded respect. His All-Seeing Eye kicked in, unprompted, pulling stats:
<
Name: Toshinori Yagi (All Might)
Age: Unknown
Quirk: One for All
Energy: 5100
Endurance: 100
Strength: 5600
Appeal: -20
>
Zion's pulse raced, the numbers unreal—Strength at 5600, Energy and even Endurance towers above his own. This bastard's a titan, he thought, crude awe battling his drive to gut hypocrisy, sparing innocents like Momo, whose Quirk he'd stolen. All Might's eyes locked on him, sharp, like he sensed the All for One humming under Zion's skin, Momo's stolen power a secret she held, her gaze burning into him from behind.
A system ping flashed:
<
System Update –
Mass Threat Suppressed
Reward: +15 Stat Points
>
He dropped the spear, Momo's Quirk still his, her empty hands trembling as she stood, eyes locked on him—grateful, silent. "Zion…" she started, voice breaking, but stopped, her loss too raw.
All Might approached, his shadow swallowing the ridge. "You held the line, young man," he said, voice low, eyes narrowing. "But this wasn't random." Momo clutched her useless hands, her knowledge of Zion's All for One a ticking bomb, as a faint hum rose from the forest, mechanical, wrong, promising more death.
<
Name: Zion
Age: 16
Quirk: All for One
Special Ability: All-Seeing eye, (locked)
Energy: 50
Endurance: 55
Strength: 45
Appeal: ∞
>
*****