The Class That Cried Werewolf

38 - An Old Enemy

-3rd Person POV-

Best Jeanist could only stare in pure shock as he and the other heroes lay on the ground, covered in bruises. The once-mighty figures were now sprawled helplessly across the debris-strewn ground, their injuries a testament to the overwhelming power they had just faced. His mind raced to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the force they had been up against, a force that had brought them to their knees in an instant.

"I see why you're the number four hero, Best Jeanist. That blast should have annihilated the lot of you, but you were able to manipulate everyone's clothing and pull them out of the way just in time," All for One praised, his voice smooth and condescending as he floated effortlessly in the air, his dark silhouette framed against the smoke-filled sky. He showed the downed hero his applause, clapping slowly with a mockery that sent shivers down Jeanist's spine. "Quick thinking. Color me impressed."

It's him. It wasn't supposed to go like this... Best Jeanist thought, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear as the realization hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. The truth settled in, heavy and suffocating, as the pro-hero grasped the enormity of their predicament.

Nevertheless, he pushed past his fear and focused on the one thing that still mattered: his duty as a hero. Gritting his teeth, he used his Quirk to push himself up to his elbows off the ground, determination burning in his eyes.

But that doesn't matter. A true hero doesn't believe in excuses! Best Jeanist thought decisively, channeling his resolve into action. With a swift motion, he manipulated the threads of his jacket to attack the villain, launching them forward with precision and intent, a testament to his unwavering courage.

However, All For One unleashed a shockwave that, though more restrained than the last one, was still formidable enough to break through the threads heading his way. The impact was swift and merciless, carving a gaping hole into Best Jeanist's stomach. Blood erupted from the wound, and his eyes went blank as he fell unconscious, crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The force of the blast was so intense that it disrupted the ground around the pro, sending cracks spider-webbing outwards from where he lay.

"Now, I see. Your strength comes from practice and practical experience, not raw power," All For One noted, his voice carrying a cold detachment as he observed the fallen hero with an air of clinical curiosity. "I don't need your Quirk. It wouldn't pair well with Tomura's disposition." His dismissive tone only heightened the chilling nature of his words, revealing the calculated mindset behind his actions.

Who is this guy? What just happened? Todoroki thought, his mind racing to process the scene unfolding before him. He fought to keep his breathing steady; every muscle in his body tensed in preparation for whatever might come next.

He took out three pros in an instant! Kirishima thought, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of the defeated heroes, who moments ago had stood as pillars of strength, now reduced to vulnerable figures on the ground, shook him to his core.

We have to run! I know that, but... Yaoyorozu mentally trailed off, her eyes darting around as she took in the gravity of their situation. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, yet she fought against the paralyzing grip of fear that threatened to take hold. Her breaths were shallow; her hands clenched tightly in an effort to steady herself.

I'm so scared that my legs... Iida thought, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The urge to move, to act, was overshadowed by the overwhelming terror that had seized him. He willed his legs to respond, but they felt like lead, rooted to the spot.