A Tarnished Hero

Chapter 3: Enter Stage Left

Shota was beginning to think that his teaching habits were coming back to bite him in the ass.

He launched his capture scarf at one of the charging villains, noting the man having a mutation quirk due to having scales on his arms and a larger than average body. The durable scarf wrapped around the villain's arm and Shota gave it a good pull, not that it did much because of the strength gap between the two.

But it was enough to change the trajectory of his punch. Shota's goggles narrowly avoided the scaly fist that flew past him. He took the moment of opportunity to kick the villain's groin with his steel-tipped boots. The villain roared in pain, his growly voice raising an octave higher, and Shota delivered the coup de grace - a roundhouse kick to the temple. The villain dropped like a sack of potatoes.

The weakness of all males alike, the balls. Shota always liked hitting them where it hurts. Plus, less chance of the idiots conceiving and leaving more kids to fend for themselves, only to end up as minor villains when they grow up because of bad parenting.

In any case, one villain down, dozens more to go... What was he thinking when he jumped into the fray alone with no backup whatsoever?

Oh right, his students. He really hoped that Thirteen was able to get them out of here before that misty-looking villain he assumed was the teleporter got to them. He just blinked for a moment, and the next, he was gone.

A grave mistake on his part.

Eye twitching, he tilted his head to the side, dodging a sharpened rock flung at him. Quickly directing his gaze towards the offender, said villain went wide-eyed when they couldn't launch any more projectiles with their quirk.

Throwing his capture scarf at them, it wrapped itself around their neck and Shota tugged at the scarf, hard. The villain was sent flying towards him, screaming all the while. Shota may not be as strong as any other hero with strength-augmenting quirks, but even he had a good physique underneath all that baggy clothing.

Clotheslining the villain, their body crashed into the ground, unconscious before they could even utter a single groan.

Another one down, still dozens more to go.

His eyes were already beginning to burn, the familiar, maddening itch intensifying. Every blink sent a wave of irritation through him, but he couldn't afford to close his eyes for more than a fraction of a second.

Of all the demerits of using his quirk, it just had to put a very annoying, yet very deadly problem. A single blink was enough for a villain to turn the tables against him.

That is, if the villain in question weren't total pushovers, which these villains seem to be. All they had on their side were numbers. Quality wasn't a given. So why?

Why stage an invasion against a school meant to teach heroes with such... lackluster villains?

Time passed in a blur, and as it did, more bodies began to litter the ground, all unconscious.

Three.

Seven.

Twelve...

More and more villains dropped to the ground, and the wave of villains was lessening somewhat. But he was getting tired.

Tired, and he sorely wanted to scratch the ever living fuck out of his eyeballs!

His instincts blared at him to dodge to the right, and when has he ever doubted his senses?

Lunging to the side, his feet skidded across the ground as he glared at the villain who had a literal hand as a mask, covering most of his face. The only defining traits he had were his light-blue colored hair and thin-as-twigs stick body.