The wind howled through the skeletal remains of the old Shinmei district—abandoned high-rises jutting into the night sky like the broken ribs of some ancient, forgotten beast. Lightning forked above, momentarily illuminating the cracked concrete and rusted rebar of the skeletal city. Down below, in the darkness between the shadows, a figure moved.
Jetsling Beroba stood at the center of what had once been a financial headquarters. Now, it served a far darker purpose.
He didn't wear his armor.
Not yet.
The air tasted of copper and smoke, the stench of burnt ozone mixing with something subtler—fear. It clung to the corners of the building like mold, soaked into the walls.
He stepped forward, boots crunching over shattered glass. A body lay crumpled near the wall—male, mid-thirties, Hero ID still clipped to his vest. Jetsling didn't pause.
"One down," he whispered.
There was no triumph in his voice. Just finality.
The information he'd extracted from the Hero Commission's internal records confirmed it. This "pro-hero," along with four others, had used their Quirk licenses and legal immunity to run underground trials—extorting captured villains, trafficking confiscated contraband, and silencing whistleblowers under the guise of "rogue cleanup."
The law had no room for anomalies like them.
So Jetsling made room.
---
He moved like a phantom through the gutted corridors. No lights. No security systems. All jammed.
No eyes.
He didn't need the AI's scan to feel them. The presence of power—it left a stain in the air, like a fresh wound that never healed. Every Quirk left an echo, and in this place, the echoes screamed.
Jetsling reached the core chamber—a central vault stripped of its financial purpose. Instead, five chairs had been arranged in a circle, ceremonial, almost arrogant. At the far end, the remaining four sat, mid-discussion.
"…he won't come here," said the man in the white suit—Hero Alias: Detract. "He's a coward. A saboteur who hides behind explosions and propaganda."
"Then explain the two missing branches," muttered the woman beside him—Shift-Lens, who once proudly displayed children on her patrol videos, claiming to protect them while signing off on backroom sales.
Jetsling stepped into view.
"You talk too much."
The room froze.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Detract stood slowly, clapping once. "So. The devil arrives."
Jetsling's eyes were cold. "You knew what you were doing. You knew the screams. And you buried them."
"Justice isn't perfect," Shift-Lens said quickly, flicking her fingers to activate her Quirk. Mirrors began to shimmer into place. "But you—"
Jetsling reached for the Delta Driver.
The belt snapped into place with a whisper of light.
"Henshin."
[STANDBY.]
[COMPLETE.]
The white Photon Streams flared outward, consuming him in a flash of brilliance.
When it faded, Kamen Rider Delta stood in his place.
And without hesitation—
He moved.
---
Shift-Lens tried to reposition through her mirror-field, but Delta's targeting system was already locked. The Photon Stream burst from the Delta Mover, catching her mid-transition. She screamed—then stopped.
Her mirror shattered.
Her body followed.
No hesitation.
Delta turned before the others could react. Detract reached for his own Quirk—a matter-bending field that dissolved foreign particles—but Delta's armor wasn't matter in the traditional sense. It was energy clothed in function.
And energy could only bend so far before it burned back.
Lucifer's Hammer ignited.
The Photon Stream connected, pinning Detract against the vault wall. A moment later, Delta launched himself into the stream—bicycle kick forward. A thunderous crack echoed through the chamber.
The wall cratered. There no need for Detract to rise anymore.
Two remained.
One tried to flee—his name was Tactile, a "rescue hero" who had used his Quirk to freeze struggling victims for easier extraction. And then never unfreezing them. Dozens lost in his care.
He didn't make it to the hallway.
"Fire"
[Burst Mode]
Delta use the Delta Mover and raise toward him once.
A single shot.
The body hit the floor with a dull, wet sound.
Only one remained.
A young woman—no older than twenty-five. She wore a hero costume modeled after cherry blossoms. Her name was Floret. Publicly adored. Secretly complicit. She didn't fight. She didn't reach for her Quirk.
She just fell to her knees.
"Please…"
Delta stopped.
Her eyes met his—fearful, wet with tears. "I didn't… I never hurt them. I just... I looked away. That's not the same as doing it."
A pause.
Then Delta voice, cold and hollow through the modulator: "You had power."
"I was scared—!"
"You had power."
Her eyes widened.
"Those without it bled. And you looked away."
She screamed as the light of the Photon Stream consumed her.
Then—
Silence.
---
The jamming field remained active as Delta still in his armor. Smoke rose from the ruin behind him. Four confirmed dead. The fifth—already cold.
He stood beneath the broken roof, rain finally leaking through cracks in the ceiling.
The city stretched far beyond. So many more lights. So many more lies.
He said nothing.
There was nothing left to say.
---
But the world didn't stay silent.
By morning, it had erupted.
[BREAKING NEWS: FOUR PRO HEROES FOUND DEAD IN SHINMEI]
[NO FOOTAGE—ONLY RUIN]
[HERO COMMISSION DENIES KNOWLEDGE OF OPERATION]
[A NEW THREAT?]
The word "villain" spread like a virus.
And with it, the fear.
---
In a briefing room deep beneath Hero HQ, Commissioner Ohtori stood with arms crossed as the broadcast flickered behind him.
"The bodies were obliterated," a technician said. "No data. No trace."
"But we know," whispered a man in glasses. "We all know who did it."
Ohtori turned to his aides. "If the public finds out that these 'heroes' were corrupted, we'll have panic. If they believe Delta is 'justice,' they'll follow his lead."
Another agent muttered, "Was he wrong, though?"
"Doesn't matter!" Ohtori snapped. "Justice must be visible. Controlled."
He took a breath. Calmer now.
"Label him a rogue threat. Classify him as a villain. Issue a silent bounty. No public statement until further notice."
"But Commissioner—"
"Do it."
---
Elsewhere, in a quiet apartment lit by soft lamp light, Tensei Iida sat before a screen.
He'd seen the reports. He'd read the autopsies, doctored or not. He'd seen the internal memos that tried desperately to frame the massacre as villain activity.
But he wasn't convinced.
Because deep down… he remembered that night in the alley. That mechanical voice. That precision.
And the question Delta had asked him:
"What will you choose when justice refuses to?"
Tensei closed his eyes.
He thought of the children those "heroes" had failed to rescue.
He thought of the line between order and obedience.
He thought of his little brother Tenya—bright, hopeful, so eager to uphold the image of justice.
And he thought of the quiet, deadly finality in Delta's actions.
He thought about what make him a hero.
He thought about the colleague that work together with him.
Then he reach a decision, he will consult with the other hero that be trust about what he know and where to go from here.
There's hero that corrupt but there many more heros that want justice to prevail.