The Pack moved through a transportation warp gate, appearing in a forest ten miles from the Commission's mountain archive in Virginia. The plan was perfect.
''Silence'' led, its null-field suppressing all electronic sensors and motion detectors. ''Mirage'' cloaked them in an illusion of empty forest. ''Echo'' copied ''Silence's'' field, reinforcing it. They were ghosts.
Behind them came two more.
''Wraith'' could phase through solid matter, able to bypass any physical barrier. Its body was a shifting mass of gray smoke, always reforming, never solid.
''Shade'' could merge with any darkness, becoming invisible and undetectable even to thermal and motion sensors. It was the ultimate infiltrator.
''Fissure'' could create localized earthquakes, splitting the ground open or collapsing tunnels from a distance.
''Hum'' could emit frequencies that disrupted electronic systems and human equilibrium, causing dizziness, nausea, and system failures in machines.
They reached the outer blast door, hidden in the mountainside. ''Anchor'' prepared to warp the gravity around the door, crushing it inward. ''Wraith'' prepared to phase through once the door cracked. ''Shade'' waited in the shadows, ready to slip inside and disable internal defenses.
''Fissure'' stood ready to collapse any tunnels that led to traps. ''Hum'' hummed softly, blanketing the area in a disorienting frequency that would leave any guards confused and sick.
It never got the chance.
The mountain itself seemed to sigh. The massive, camouflaged door didn't crumble. Instead, it 'glitched'. One moment it was solid titanium. The next, its surface rippled like water, pixels of metal shifting and breaking apart.
Then, slowly, the rock of the mountain began to flow like thick liquid, crawling over the door, covering it, swallowing it whole. The titanium dissolved into the stone, becoming one with the mountain again.
It was as if the door had never been programmed into the world. The mountain had simply... healed itself. Closed a wound that should not have existed.
''Error Inducement.''
The Pack froze. ''Silence'' focused its null-field on the new wall. Nothing happened. The wall wasn't a quirk-effect. It was a corrected error in reality.
''Hum'' increased its frequency, trying to disrupt whatever was happening. The frequency bounced back, amplified, and hit ''Hum'' directly. It convulsed, dropping to its knees, blood leaking from its ears.
A voice spoke from the air around them, flat and digital. "Invalid target. Access denied."
''Pulse'' unleashed a wave of psychic terror towards the source of the voice. The wave hit the trees and dissipated. The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"Query: Hostile intent detected. Applying patch."
''Logic Defiance.''
The ''logic'' that said the ground was solid became false. The ''illogic'' that all eight of them would simultaneously sink into the earth as if it were quicksand became reality.
The forest floor beneath them rippled like water. ''Wraith'' tried to phase, but the ground wasn't physical matter anymore—it was something else, something that its phasing couldn't recognize.
It sank, screaming, its smoky form dispersing into the soil. ''Shade'' tried to merge with darkness, but there was no darkness—only crushing, suffocating earth.
The ground swallowed them whole. Not quickly—slowly, inch by inch, so they could feel every moment of it. ''Fissure'' tried to crack the earth open, but his quirk found nothing to grip. The ground was not ground anymore. It was a lie.
They dropped like stones into crushing darkness, their screams muffled by tons of soil. The earth sealed above them as if they had never been there. No struggle. No fight. Just a system correcting eight unauthorized processes.
They were buried alive under a thousand tons of rock and soil, their perfect quirks useless, their final moments spent clawing at dirt that should not have been there, gasping for air that would not come, alone in the absolute dark.
In his lair, Shigaraki stared at a monitor that had just gone black, the signal from the Pack's leader severed. His confident grin melted into confusion, then dawning horror.
Then, slowly, his lips curled upward. A chuckle escaped his throat. Then another. Then he threw his head back and 'laughed'—a high, unhinged, manic sound that echoed off the walls.
"He buried them," Shigaraki gasped between laughs, his red eyes wide and wild. "He buried them 'alive'. All of them. Just... deleted them from the surface." He clutched his stomach, still laughing. "This is 'amazing'. This is the best game ever."
His laughter faded into a trembling grin. He wasn't scared anymore. He was 'excited'. The glitch boy was everything he had hoped for. A monster worthy of playing with.
''The Vault's Failure''
Across the world, the master's elite team hit the Vault's perimeter. Their hacker, a man with a technopathic quirk, linked with the external security system. "I'm in! Bypassing the primary gates… now!"
The massive blast doors of the Vault began to grind open. The mercenaries surged forward, the master himself a shadow among them.
They took three steps inside the entrance tunnel.
Then, every light died. Not just went out. They 'un-existed'. The darkness was absolute, silent, and cold.
A green cursor blinked into existence in the air before them, hanging in the darkness.
Then text scrolled, glowing:
`>> SYSTEM ALERT: Unauthorized access attempt.`
`>> Source: User_AFO_Assets.`
`>> Quarantine Protocol Engaged.`
`>> Reality_Lock Active.`
''Reality Hacking.''
The open doorway behind them vanished, becoming a smooth, continuous wall of the same alien alloy as the Vault. The air grew thin. The ''logic'' that said oxygen molecules should be present became false.
The mercenaries began to gasp, clutching their throats. Their quirks flickered and died, not suppressed, but 'forgotten' by the local reality.
The master, shielded by his own immense power, felt the world harden around him. He could not move forward. He could not move back. Space itself had been edited, placing him in a perfect, inescapable cell one meter square.
He could see the inner door to the treasures just ahead, but it was as distant as a star. He roared in fury, unleashing a blast of concussive energy that had leveled cities. The energy traveled an inch from his fist and then winked out of existence, deleted.
The green text updated:
`>> Containment Successful.`
`>> Awaiting Administrator Review.`
But it wasn't just here. It was everywhere.
In a secure bunker in Germany, a team of elite operatives preparing to raid a Commission black site found their weapons glitching into flowers, their armor turning to cloth, their bodies freezing mid-step as if time had stopped for them alone.
In a hidden base in Siberia, a squad of enhanced soldiers with stolen quirks found their bodies rebelling—their legs walking backwards, their arms refusing to move forward, their mouths unable to form words as they stumbled in confused, terrified circles, trapped in a lag loop that would never end.
In a command center in the Middle East, hackers trying to access global financial systems found their screens showing only one image: a pair of green, pixelated eyes staring back at them.
Then their computers melted. Then the walls melted. Then they were standing in an empty desert with no memory of how they got there, their minds wiped clean.
In Tokyo, a League of Villains safe house erupted not with explosions, but with 'errors'. Furniture flickered in and out of existence. Walls became transparent, then solid, then transparent again.
The villains inside found their bodies swapping places randomly—one moment at the door, the next in the bathroom, then back again, their stomachs lurching with impossible movement. They screamed, but their screams came out as static.
In a secret laboratory in South America, where researchers were studying extracted quirks from unwilling donors, every specimen vial simultaneously shattered.
The extracted quirks, floating in preservation fluid, simply... stopped existing. The researchers watched as their life's work dissolved into green light that spelled out words on the walls:
`>> Access Revoked.`
`>> Data Purged.`
`>> Users Terminated.`
Then the lights went out, and the researchers heard breathing in the dark. Not their own. Something else. Something that whispered in digital tones: '"You took from people who couldn't fight back. I am the fight they never got."'
In every location, at the exact same moment, the same thing happened. Not sequentially. Not one after another. 'Simultaneously.' As if Izuku was in all places at once. As if time and space meant nothing to him. As if he had simply... copied himself across the globe and executed every command at the same instant.
The destruction was not flashy. There were no explosions, no fireballs, no dramatic battles. It was cold. Precise. Absolute. A system purge executed across a thousand servers at once.
In the Vault, the master felt his connection to his other assets sever one by one. Forty-seven teams. Forty-seven operations. All gone in seconds. His centuries of planning, his carefully cultivated assets, his network of influence—erased by a child.
The green cursor blinked again.
`>> Remote Assets: 47 of 47 Terminated.`
`>> Local Threat: Contained.`
`>> Processing: Next Steps.`
The master's hands, pressed against the invisible wall of his room, clenched into fists. His body began to shake. But not with fear.
With rage.
Unadulterated, burning, all-consuming rage.
He threw himself against the wall, pounding his fists against it. "YOU INSOLENT BRAT!" he roared, his voice echoing in the tiny space.
His composed demeanor, the calm mask of the ultimate villain who had manipulated events for centuries, shattered completely. Spittle flew from his lips. His face twisted into something ugly and animalistic.
He unleashed quirk after quirk—energy blasts, green vines, optic energies, matter disintegration—at the barrier. Nothing. The energy vanished, absorbed, deleted.
He screamed in frustration, a raw, primal sound that would have shocked anyone who knew him as the calm, cold, calculating master of darkness.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE?! FORTY-SEVEN OPERATIONS! DECADES OF PREPARATION! CENTURIES OF PLANNING!"
He kicked the monitor, his expensive shoes doing nothing. "AND YOU—A CHILD—A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD—DESTROY IT ALL IN SECONDS?!"
His composure was gone. The aura of the ultimate villain, the one who had faced All Might and heroes across generations without flinching, had evaporated. In its place stood a man losing his mind to rage, brought low by a kid who should have been nothing.
He wanted to kill Izuku. Not quickly. Not mercifully. He wanted to get his hands on that glitching throat and squeeze. He wanted to peel back every layer of that power, strip it away piece by piece, and make the boy watch as everything he loved burned.
He would make him suffer a death so brutal, so prolonged, so agonizing that the universe itself would remember it as a warning. No one—no one—did this to him and lived.
The green cursor blinked one last time.
`>> Message from Administrator:`
`>> "Your moves were predictable. Your confidence was a bug. I've patched it.`
`>> Sit tight. We'll be with you soon."`
Then, in the air before the master, a small glass bottle materialized out of thin air. It floated gently down, clinking softly against nothing before landing on the floor at his feet.
The master stared at it. It was a bottle of pills—the kind prescribed to people who felt their nerves might burst from stress. Calming medication. Blood pressure regulators.
A small note was attached, written in clean, digital font:
"Don't die of too much stress or high blood pressure. That would be a very anticlimactic death. And very boring."
The master's vision went red.
He snatched up the bottle and hurled it at the wall with all his strength. It shattered against the wall, pills scattering everywhere, but the barrier didn't even flicker.
"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "YOU THINK YOU CAN MOCK ME?! I AM THE DARKNESS BEHIND THRONES! I HAVE WATCHED EMPIRES RISE AND FALL! I HAVE MADE EMPIRES FALL. HAVE OUTLIVED HEROES AND VILLAINS ALIKE! AND YOU—A CHILD—DARES TO—"
He couldn't finish. He grabbed at his own chest, feeling his heart pounding so hard it hurt. His breathing was ragged. He had not felt like this in centuries. Not since his brother. Not since the early days of rage and failure.
He slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor, surrounded by scattered pills. His chest heaved. His eyes, still burning, stared at the distant inner door of the Vault.
"I will kill you," he whispered, his voice a broken rasp. "I will find a way out of these so-called powers of yours, and I will find you, and I will make you beg for death long before I grant it.
I will take everything from you—every person you love, every memory you hold dear, every piece of your pathetic existence—and I will destroy it all while you watch, helpless, just as I am now."
He picked up one of the pills, staring at it.
"And when you have nothing left, when you are broken and empty and begging... I will keep going. For years. For decades. For as long as it takes to make you understand what you have done to me today."
He crushed the pill between his fingers, watching the powder fall.
"This is not over, glitch. This is just the beginning."
If my story made you smile even once, that's a win for me. That's what I want to live for—brightening dull days and reminding people that joy still exists. My dream is to keep getting better, to someday reach legendary level of storytelling.
If you can support me financially please join my patreon from the fic's bio, cause I don't know why Webnovel doesn't show my patreon link and honestly speaking I really need money. And if you can't it's alright, just adding few words of appreciation and power stones will be enough motivation I need.
Thankyou for choosing my fics to read.