In the depths of a facility far beneath the earth—hidden beneath layers of reinforced steel, forgotten train lines, and rotting bone—a heartbeat echoed through silence.
Steady. Thunderous. Unnatural.
All For One's eyes opened.
The dim room was filled with cold medical light and the incessant beeping of life support monitors. IVs slithered into his pale arms like glass veins. Tubes pumped a synthetic crimson through his failing body.
But the monitors began to scream.
BEEP—BEEP—BEEEEEP!
He reached up and, without a word, ripped the IV lines from his arms, spraying blood across the white sheets. The reinforced breathing mask that had been bolted to his face was next.
Crack. Hiss.Gone.
His breathing was laboured, but his posture straightened. Slowly, powerfully.
"Garaki."
A creaking wheel turned.
Dr. Kyudai Garaki rolled forward from the darkness—frail, hunched, and yet giddy with barely concealed dread.
"Y-you're awake… you shouldn't move so soon after that battle with All Might… Your body—it's—"
AFO raised a hand. The doctor froze.
"Enough. Bring the mask."
Garaki's hands trembled, but he obeyed.
From a glowing container, the doctor unveiled it—a sleek, upgraded black mask, reinforced with alloy tendrils and a subtle crimson glow pulsing along the rim. It was built not just for intimidation—but for containment.
AFO lowered it over his own face.There was a hiss of pressure. A lock sealed into his jaw.
Click. Click. Thrum.
The transformation was complete.
"The Final Symphony"
AFO turned to the metal tray beside him. Upon it lay three syringes. Each filled with swirling, hellish liquid—burning red and black like oil and blood combined.
The very same serum that had enhanced Nine, mutated Re-Destro, and twisted others into living weapons of destruction.
He held them in his hand… weighing death and ascension in his palm.
"They devour the very soul, don't they?" he mused quietly."But for soon to be a God… such things are beneath concern."
With slow, methodical precision, he slid each one into the compartments on his belt. Their vials clicked into place like bullets into a chamber.
"Three doses-" he whispered.
He stood fully now, muscles pulsing, veins visible beneath ruined skin. Despite the damage, despite the cost, there was something radiant about him. Something horrifyingly final.
Garaki's wrinkled hands clenched his coat.
"I… I've served you all my life. You—you must understand, this body—this body can't take another fight, my lord!"
AFO turned to him. His voice was smooth behind the mask, like poisoned honey.
"Don't worry, doctor."
He adjusted the cuff of his jet-black tuxedo—freshly pressed, tailored perfectly for this very moment.
"After this fight… I won't be bound to this body anymore.""After this fight… I will awaken as a god."
He began walking down the corridor. His footsteps were slow, deliberate. The concrete beneath him hissed as heat and pressure warped the path.
Behind him, Garaki trembled.
And then—smiled.
Tears slipped from his eyes.
As the last lights flickered behind them, a tremor passed through the compound.
All For One's armoured steps echoed down the cold corridor, each one heavier than the last. The shadows clung to his figure like loyal hounds, drawn to the sheer gravity of his presence.
As he passed a dimly lit chamber sealed with reinforced glass, he paused. Inside, bathed in flickering blue light and suspended in a viscous nutrient tank, floated Shigaraki Tomura—his heir, his vessel, his unfinished masterpiece.
The wires curled around the boy like veins of fate, and his twitching fingers moved in restless dreams. All For One tilted his masked head ever so slightly, the faintest glint of recognition in his eye.
"Not yet-" he murmured.
"But soon…" He pressed one gloved hand against the glass.
"When it wakes… when you awaken…" His voice dropped into a whisper, reverent and horrific.
"You will be a god—no longer a boy, no longer Tomura… but me." For the briefest moment, a pulse of black static shimmered between them, as if destiny itself acknowledged his vow.
Then he turned, walking toward his final battle. Shigaraki stirred faintly behind the glass, as if hearing something in a dream that was not his own.
AFO's destination was already known.
---------------------------
The wind whispered gently.
Unlike the dark, bone-strewn abyss he'd often found himself lost in, Tomura Shigaraki now sat upon a shore. A beach, vast and empty.
The sky above was heavy with dusk, the clouds slowly crawling, casting soft violet shadows over the gentle crashing of the sea. The waves rolled in and out rhythmically, soothing, almost… peaceful. It was surreal.
The grains of sand beneath his bare feet were warm—not scorching, not biting, just real. Familiar in a way he couldn't explain.
He looked down.
He was small again. A child.
Fragile arms, scratched knees, an oversized shirt clinging to his tiny frame. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly lifted his gaze.
Beside him stood a man.
Tall. Calm. No armor. No mask. His face was pale, young, yet without the grotesque disfigurement. This was All For One—how he once was. Human. Complete.
Perfect.
The man looked down at him with something between affection and reverence. His voice, calm and measured, floated on the breeze.
"Tomura-" he said.
Shigaraki blinked. His throat moved to speak before he even knew why.
"…Master?"
All For One nodded slowly. "Are you ready?"
He extended a hand.
A hand not of force. But A lift. A gesture.
Shigaraki—still the child—glanced down at the outstretched fingers. His expression twisted for a brief moment in hesitation.
Something old stirred within him. Hesitance… or memory.
Then he looked back up.
And took it.
All For One's grin widened—subtle, victorious, yet calm. As their hands touched, the sky above seemed to darken just a little more. The waves stilled.
And the sea waited.
-----------------------
The sky over Kamino Ward hung low, thick with the coppery scent of burning steel and blood. Smoke snaked up from crumbled buildings, broken roads, and abandoned vehicles. The once-bustling ward now looked like the aftermath of a warzone — because it was.
Standing atop the broken highway, with remnants of Kamino Tower behind him, was Overhaul — Kai Chisaki. . His body was grotesquely altered — a fusion of himself with what seemed like hundreds of quirk-enhanced corpses, stitched into a towering mass of twitching limbs, exposed veins, and cracked masks. His voice was distorted — wet, broken, and inhuman — and he spoke not with words, but with the vibration of rot and pain.
He had already injected himself the moment All Might arrived.
"You heroes… always clinging to order, to law. Let's see what your justice looks like in the face of decay."
Below the crumbled ruins stood Team Alpha — handpicked for this mission. A tight-knit squad chosen for experience, synergy, and heart. They were staring up at their nightmare.
"Don't engage recklessly. Wait for the signal." Aizawa muttered, scarf fluttering behind him.
Beside him, Fat Gum cracked his knuckles. "Been a while since I felt this tense."
Gran Torino, silent, stared forward. He wasn't one for many words now — just calculation, reading the angles, waiting for the moment to move.
Crimson Riot stepped beside him, eyes narrowed.
" Let's make sure the next generation sees a sunny tomorrow."
All Might stood in the front — gaunt, but burning with presence. This wasn't the Symbol of Peace from a decade ago. This was Toshinori Yagi — no longer at his peak, yet still unyielding.
"No matter the cost-" he said softly, looking up at Overhaul. "This ends here."
Behind the pros, the students took their positions.
Tokoyami knelt down, whispering to Dark Shadow, who roared softly in his ear.
"We strike only when needed. We support the lead. Be sharp."
Jirou touched the shattered ground, her jacks feeding vibrations directly into her core. "His mass… he's controlling the ground's composition too. That's not just decay — he's fused with it."
From Class 1-B, Kendo slammed her fists together, transforming them into giant gauntlets of raw power.
Kamakiri, the blade-armed student from Shiketsu, grinned under his mask. "Heh. This is what we trained for."
A faint gust of wind swept across the battlefield, lifting ash and cloth. The silence was broken by All Might's whisper:
"Kai Chisaki-" he said quietly, "Your reign of terror end today-"
But then… shapes emerged.
From the crevices in the ruined ground, from the shadows beneath twisted steel, they came.
Figures cloaked in black rags, masks stitched from agony, and bodies altered far beyond human limits. Their presence darkened the battlefield like a swarm of spectres — escaped villains from Tartarus. Murderers. Betrayers.
They didn't speak. They didn't roar. Their mere existence oozed malice.
And yet, Overhaul — now an unholy chimera of flesh and hatred — stood unbothered among them. In fact, he turned his grotesque form slightly, as if acknowledging old friends.
One of the villains, his face scorched and half-melted, hissed, "We heard your call…His call."
All Might narrowed his eyes.
Overhaul let out a ragged, mocking laugh — the kind that didn't sound human. His many limbs twisted unnaturally as he faced All Might, his grotesque mouth smirking.
"Symbol of Peace-" he said, his voice layered with monstrous undertones,
"It's an honor to stand across from you. Truly."
The ground beneath him cracked, veins of decay slithering outward like a spider's web. Black sludge pumped through the limbs of the Tartarus villains, their bodies twitching in anticipation.
"But today… you crumble."
All Might took a slow step forward. His somewhat healed body trembled slightly — not from fear, but from the burden of standing against chaos once again.
Behind him, Gran Torino whispered,
"Some of them… I recognize them, Toshinori. Monsters that should've never seen the light again."
Crimson Riot tightened his fists, his breathing sharp. "We're surrounded… these aren't just villains. These are scars from the darkest times."
Aizawa's eyes narrowed. "Their quirks… many of them aren't natural. They've been altered. Like Nomus."
Fat Gum growled, "So it's not just Overhaul we're fighting… it's a whole damn legion."
Among the students, Tokoyami's wings flared open protectively, as Jirou's earpieces buzzed with incoming tremors from all sides.
The battlefield had shifted — what was supposed to be a mission to contain Overhaul had turned into a siege from the depths of Tartarus itself.
And yet…
All Might stood tall.
A shadow of his former glory, yes — but a symbol still burning, flickering against the void.
"Come, Villains-" he said,
"Let's end this."
And with a single step forward, the war began anew.