Ren stood in the middle of a quiet park just outside Musutafu, dusk light spilling through the trees. The laughter of children and chatter of passing civilians faded behind him.
He had already confirmed the timeline. Now came the real test.
He inhaled slowly.
> "Activate: Mastermind."
The world shifted.
Color drained from his vision, replaced by lines of data and motion traces. The air itself became information. Every heartbeat within twenty meters pulsed like a dot on a map; the gentle breeze turned into flowing vectors of probability.
> Processing neural capacity: 8%… 12%… 23%…
He focused on a coin resting in his palm and flicked it toward a tree. In the same instant, calculations formed instinctively—air resistance, velocity, wind angle, bark density. The coin ricocheted once, twice… and landed squarely in the open pocket of a man jogging past.
Ren smiled.
> "Prediction confirmed."
The thrill lasted only seconds before pain clawed behind his eyes. Veins pulsed at his temples; his breath hitched.
> Warning: Neural strain increasing.
He cut the quirk off instantly. The pain faded, leaving a faint static hum in his skull.
> "Twenty-three percent is my safe limit," he muttered. "Past that… I burn myself out."
He crouched, touching the ground. Footprints, direction, weight—all revealed themselves like clues screaming to be read.
He could see everything.
Every move, every flaw.
If this was only twenty-three percent, what would a hundred feel like?
Ren looked up at the darkening sky. Somewhere above, heroes flew on patrol, silhouettes framed against the sunset.
> "You protect the light," he whispered, a smirk forming. "I'll master the shadows."
The first experiment was a success.
Now he needed data—on heroes, quirks, society.
Every experiment would feed the next.
And soon, when all the variables aligned… he'd make his first move.
One month.
That was all it took for Ren Akira to outgrow the world.
In the dim light of a tiny apartment, walls were plastered with notes, diagrams, equations, and hero profiles. Stacks of newspapers, tablets, and open laptops surrounded him like a cocoon of data.
He hadn't slept in four days. He didn't need to.
Every time he activated Mastermind, his neurons sparked like lightning, rewriting limits humans had never crossed. He devoured books, videos, databases—absorbing centuries of knowledge in hours.
> "Mathematics, physics, hero law, quirk science, psychology, cybernetics, anatomy…"
Every word turned into understanding. Every theory became instinct.
He learned how quirks interacted on a molecular level.
How the Hero Commission controlled the flow of public information.
How support gear manufacturers secretly tested on prisoners.
He connected dots no one else could see.
On the thirtieth night, Ren sat in silence, his fingers twitching slightly from the constant overload. A holographic interface flickered on his tablet, showing his new creation—a predictive model of society itself.
> "Given one month's observation," he murmured, "I can predict every move of every hero within Musutafu… with 89% accuracy."
The city outside continued to hum, blissfully unaware.
Ren leaned back, closing his eyes.
He wasn't just intelligent anymore. He was evolution.
> "Heroes fight monsters," he said softly. "But what do they do when the monster learns faster than they can think?"
Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the papers on his wall—
at the center of it all, circled in red ink:
MASTER PLAN – PHASE 2: HERO SIMULATION
He was ready.
Ready to test his knowledge on the ones who ruled this world.
The city's heartbeat changed after midnight.
The cheers for heroes faded, replaced by whispers, footsteps, and the faint metallic scent of crime.
Ren walked through the narrow alleys of downtown Musutafu, his hood up, eyes cold.
He wasn't hunting for trouble — he was hunting for data.
Villains were unpredictable variables.
To master the system, he needed to study the chaos firsthand.
A soft growl echoed from ahead. He turned a corner.
Three men surrounded another figure — a tall man with messy gray hair, hands in his pockets. The air itself seemed heavier around him.
Ren's pulse quickened.
He recognized that posture instantly.
> Tomura Shigaraki.
Unmistakable. The cracked hands, the lazy menace in his stance.
Ren froze in the shadows, activating his quirk at low intensity — 15%. His brain fired with information: movements, quirks, threat levels, escape routes.
But what caught him off guard wasn't Shigaraki — it was how wrong he looked.
The League's leader was thin, restless, muttering to himself. This was a Shigaraki before he evolved — still searching for purpose after All for One's fall.
> "Guess you rats don't learn," Shigaraki hissed, his fingers brushing the nearest thug's shoulder.
The man crumbled to dust instantly.
Ren's breath hitched. Even knowing it would happen didn't prepare him for seeing decay so up close.
The other two fled. Shigaraki didn't chase them — he just stared at the remains, twitching slightly.
Ren stepped back quietly, careful not to draw attention. But Shigaraki's head tilted.
> "You've been watching a while," he rasped. "Who are you?"
For a moment, Ren considered lying, running, disappearing.
Then, the strategist in him made a different choice.
He stepped forward from the shadows.
> "No one important," Ren said evenly. "Just someone studying what happens when society ignores its own failures."
Shigaraki's grin spread slow, almost curious.
> "Heh… interesting way to say villain."
Ren met his gaze, unflinching.
> "Maybe. But I'm not your enemy. I'm just… learning."
For a heartbeat, the two stood there — predator and analyst, chaos and control.
Then Shigaraki chuckled.
> "Keep learning, then. You'll need it."
He walked away, his footsteps fading into the alley's darkness.
Ren watched him disappear, his mind already racing.
> "Phase Two begins," he whispered. "Direct contact with the League… within reach."
The shadows swallowed him again, but this time, he wasn't wandering aimlessly.
He had a target — and a plan.
Ren stood on the rooftop of an abandoned building, the city glittering below.
On his tablet glowed a single file: All For One – Tartarus Prison Record.
He'd cracked the encrypted data three days ago. He knew every security rotation, guard pattern, and sensor blind spot.
If he wanted… he could free the devil himself.
But his mind didn't jump to can I?
It asked: Should I?
> "All For One built the system that enslaved people to quirks," Ren murmured. "A god of control. But gods are predictable… heroes, too. What this world has never seen is a mind that uses both."
He leaned back against the railing, smirking faintly.
> "Freeing him would be chaos. Dangerous. But chaos is also information."
A holographic simulation played before his eyes — hero reaction times, government response, media patterns. Every possibility branching out like lightning.
> "If I release him, I learn how every piece on the board moves. If I don't… I stay in the dark."
He closed the tablet, the decision forming in silence.
> "I won't free All For One," he whispered. "Not yet."
"But I'll make Tartarus believe he's already escaping."
The plan shifted — not to rescue, but to manipulate.
Heroes would panic. The League would stir.
And somewhere inside his prison, the greatest villain alive would start hearing whispers of a new mind watching him.
> "Let's see how a god reacts to doubt."
Lightning flashed across the city skyline — and the game began.
---
Rain fell hard over Musutafu. The city lights shimmered in puddles, and distant sirens echoed like an endless heartbeat.
Inside a silent warehouse, Ren sat before a dozen screens, his eyes reflecting lines of code and surveillance feeds from Tartarus Prison — Japan's most fortified stronghold.
Every angle, every hallway, every guard rotation — mapped, decoded, simulated.
He wasn't breaking in. He was breaking belief.
> "Step one: misinformation."
He uploaded a doctored signal into the Hero Commission's network — a faint anomaly suggesting Tartarus's west sector sensors were malfunctioning.
Within minutes, the guards would find "phantom movement" inside the prison — impossible readings that couldn't be traced.
> "Step two: false breadcrumbs."
Ren spread coded messages across the villain web forums, the kind All For One's loyalists still haunted.
Each hint implied that the old master had awakened — that his consciousness was leaking into the digital world.
He leaned back, watching the chaos unfold live.
In less than two hours, three underground groups started mobilizing to "welcome back" their leader.
Heroes were rerouted, task forces deployed, and social feeds flooded with rumors:
> "Tartarus breach detected."
"All For One sighted in Kamino ruins."
Ren chuckled under his breath.
> "Predictable. Fear travels faster than truth."
He wasn't trying to destroy the balance yet — just tilt it.
Every reaction, every decision heroes made tonight would be recorded, analyzed, turned into data.
Then came the unexpected.
His screen blinked.
A new encrypted signal appeared — one that he hadn't planted.
> 'Who are you?'
Ren's fingers froze on the keyboard.
The trace led back to a restricted Tartarus channel — one only a handful of beings could access.
His pulse quickened.
> "Impossible," he whispered. "He's… conscious?"
The text appeared again, clearer this time:
> 'You're not one of mine… but you're watching. Aren't you?'
Ren smiled slowly.
> "So, the legend still breathes."
He typed back one line.
> 'Consider this a test. Let's see if your empire still deserves to exist.'
There was a long pause. Then All For One's reply came — calm, cold, amused.
> 'Interesting. It seems this world has found a new devil.'
The connection severed instantly.
Ren leaned back, exhaling a shaky laugh.
> "No, not a devil," he murmured. "Just evolution."
Outside, the rain intensified. Heroes scrambled to contain chaos that never truly happened.
And in the heart of Tartarus, an ancient villain opened his eyes — intrigued.
Ren looked at the spre
ading panic on his screens.
> "Step three complete."
"The world moves to my rhythm now."
The city was alive with its usual noise — vendors shouting, music from open cafés, heroes patrolling overhead.
Ren walked casually down the street, hands in his pockets, his hood drawn low.
To everyone else, he looked like another passerby.
But to him, the world was a living algorithm — emotions, gestures, micro-expressions, all predictable patterns.
He paused before a small convenience store. Something felt off.
The cashier's smile was stiff. Customers avoided eye contact.
And one man near the counter had his hand inside his coat — tension written in every muscle.
Ren's quirk flickered on at 12%.
Instantly, he read the room like an open book.
> Sweat rate: elevated. Breathing pattern: irregular. Hand angle: 43° toward concealed weapon.
Conclusion: armed. Agitated. About to act.
The man barked, "Nobody move!" — pulling out a small gadget that sparked with energy.
The crowd screamed. A minor villain — low-tier, nervous, desperate.
Ren stepped through the door calmly, the bell chiming above him.
Every head turned.
The villain's voice cracked, "You—! Get down or I'll fry you!"
Ren didn't move.
His tone was quiet, steady — the kind used by someone who knows what you'll do before you do it.
> "You're trembling," he said. "Because this wasn't supposed to happen today. You were just going to steal, not kill."
The villain froze, eyes darting. "Shut up!"
Ren took a step closer.
> "You're not used to confrontation. That gadget isn't stable — your hand's shaking too much. You press that trigger, it explodes before you escape."
The villain's pupils constricted. For the first time, doubt cut through his fear.
Ren tilted his head slightly.
> "You still have a choice. Drop it, and you'll leave alive. Keep it, and you'll be nothing but smoke."
The man's breathing hitched. Seconds ticked by. Then —
clatter.
The weapon hit the floor.
Before the heroes even arrived, Ren was already walking away.
The people inside started murmuring, confused.
The cameras caught only a shadowed figure exiting the store — calm amid panic.
Outside, the rain had started again.
Ren glanced at his reflection in the window.
> "Emotion is just another equation," he said softly. "Predictable, controllable."
He turned the corner and vanished into the city crowd — leaving behind a villain who had
no idea he'd just been out-thought by a monster in human skin.
The rain hadn't stopped since the incident in the store.
Ren liked it that way — noise blurred details, reflections distorted faces, and the water drowned sound.
It made observation easier.
He walked along the canal that cut through Musutafu's slums, his thoughts looping through simulations and probabilities. That's when he heard it — a splash that didn't match the rhythm of the rain.
He turned his head slightly.
A man stepped out from the alley shadows, his clothes soaked, eyes glowing faint blue.
Droplets hovered around his hands like living creatures.
> "Didn't think anyone walked here at night," the man said, his voice low.
"Didn't think water could talk either," Ren replied casually.
The stranger smirked. The water around him rippled, shaping into blades.
> "You've got guts. Most people run when they see me. They call me Riptide."
Ren's quirk activated subtly — just 8%.
Instantly, his mind dissected everything: quirk pattern, stance, personality markers, muscle tension.
> Hydrokinetic. Requires external moisture. Moderate control radius—about fifteen meters. Emotionally volatile but disciplined. Possible trauma-based motivation.
Ren spoke slowly, testing his theory.
> "You're not here to kill. You're here because you're curious. You saw what happened in the store."
Riptide's eyes narrowed.
> "You were the one who froze that psycho without lifting a finger."
Ren smirked. "Observation is a weapon."
The water blades lowered slightly.
> "You're no hero. You move like… us."
Ren took a step closer, the rain sliding off his coat.
> "I'm nothing like heroes or villains. I study both — and decide which side deserves to survive."
Riptide chuckled, almost impressed.
> "Big words. You think brains can beat power?"
Ren's gaze sharpened.
> "I don't think. I calculate. I know."
The silence stretched, only the rain speaking between them.
Then Riptide extended a hand — not of friendship, but respect.
> "You talk like a leader. Maybe I should see where this goes."
Ren looked at his hand, then at the rippling puddles around them.
> "Every storm starts with a ripple," he sai
d, shaking it.
And just like that, Mastermind gained his first follower.
The night sky bled with lightning.
Rain pounded against the cracked rooftops as Ren and Riptide moved through the backstreets of Musutafu's industrial zone.
They weren't on a mission — just gathering data on the underworld's black-market supply chains — when the scream shattered the air.
Riptide froze. "You heard that?"
Ren nodded once, already analyzing the echo.
> Female voice. Distance: 120 meters. Frequency distortion—panic level high.
They turned the corner, and saw it.
A Nomu — half-torn, experimental, unstable. Its exposed muscles twitched under glowing circuitry. It roared, swinging its massive arm through a storefront, shattering glass and concrete.
Riptide cursed under his breath. "That's a Nomu, man! We need to—"
Ren's eyes gleamed. "—Study it."
Before Riptide could argue, Ren stepped forward.
The monster's sensors twitched, locking onto him. It lunged, claws slicing through air.
Ren didn't move. His brain ignited — Mastermind, 47% activation.
The world slowed. Every droplet of rain became a suspended point in time. He calculated the creature's trajectory, joint rotation, even the milliseconds between its muscle contractions.
> "Riptide — 43° right, aim for its joints!"
Without hesitation, Riptide slammed his palms forward. Water burst from the gutters, spiraling around him into sharp torrents.
The jets struck precisely where Ren predicted — the Nomu's knee and shoulder.
The beast stumbled, its roar distorted.
Ren's voice cut through the storm.
> "Its regeneration lags 0.3 seconds behind. Hit the same spots before it resets!"
Riptide obeyed, the next wave slamming harder, freezing parts of the Nomu's body mid-heal.
The creature screeched, flailing blindly. Ren moved closer, eyes flickering like static.
> Processing neural overload—72%... 80%... 86%...
He ignored the warnings.
Every movement, every vibration, every heartbeat — he saw all of it.
And then — clarity.
Ren picked up a piece of metal pipe and hurled it.
The Nomu turned instinctively — exposing its spine.
> "Now!"
Riptide roared, channeling every ounce of moisture into a single massive surge.
The tidal burst hit the Nomu like a collapsing wave, slamming it into a wall. Circuits sparked. Limbs cracked.
The silence after the impact was deafening.
Steam rose from the crushed body as the Nomu twitched once… then fell still.
Riptide collapsed to one knee, panting.
> "We actually killed it?"
Ren exhaled slowly, the pain behind his eyes throbbing. Blood trickled from his nose — a side effect of pushing his quirk too far.
> "No," he muttered, watching the remains twitch faintly. "It wasn't alive to begin with."
He turned away, rain washing the blood from his face.
> "This was a test," he said quietly. "Someone wanted to see how we'd react."
Riptide frowned. "You mean someon
e sent that thing?"
Ren smirked.
> "Yes. And now they know the storm is real."
Deep underground, far from the noise of the city, the League of Villains' base flickered with dim light.
The smell of damp concrete and burning cables filled the air.
Shigaraki sat in his chair, fingers twitching on the armrest, staring at the glowing monitor before him.
The words on the screen burned like prophecy:
> [ALERT: ALL FOR ONE—ESCAPE CONFIRMED. SOURCE: TARTARUS SECURITY FEED]
The others whispered nervously. Spinner leaned closer.
> "It's… real?"
Dabi snorted. "Could be a trap. Heroes lie all the time."
Shigaraki's bloodshot eyes didn't blink. His hand hovered just above the monitor, trembling with barely contained rage — or excitement.
> "I felt something," he muttered. "Like he's… awake again."
The screen flickered. Another feed appeared — blurry surveillance footage of a black void tearing through Tartarus's west wing. Static, then darkness.
Twice swallowed hard. "Boss, if All For One's out, what do we—?"
Shigaraki stood up slowly, his voice hoarse but certain.
> "We move."
He turned to the others, the cracked hand on his face twitching.
> "If the old man is back, he'll come for me. But if he's not…" — his grin widened — "then I'll find whoever made the world think he was."
He crushed the metal chair arm to dust with a single touch.
> "Only one kind of mind could pull off a trick like that."
The League stirred uneasily.
Dabi flicked his lighter open, smirking. "So… we're hunting a ghost now?"
> "Not a ghost," Shigaraki said. "A challenger."
He walked toward the exit, rain leaking through the cracked ceiling above.
Outside, lightning flashed — the same storm Ren and Riptide were fighting beneath.
Shigaraki tilted his head slightly, as if sensing the ripple in the distance.
> "Whoever you are," he whispered, "you just declared war."
The feed behind him continued looping — a fake escape, a false signal —
and yet the idea had already taken root.
Fear. Hope. Chaos.
Exactly what Ren wanted.
---