Ultra Blue Violence (Dabi)

Chapter Ninety-Three: Matter

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long golden rays over the country as the darkness of night crept in. Far away, hidden in the quiet, isolated Haibori Woods, the League of Villains found temporary refuge. The Nomu carrying Miya landed softly on the grass, its mission complete, before lumbering away to rest by an old mansion nestled in the hillside. A place the League had once raided, leaving the cult that lived there in ruins.

Miya collapsed to her knees, her entire body trembling with exhaustion. The adrenaline of battle had drained away, leaving only the deafening silence in her head and the sharp ache in her chest. Her legs were numb, paralyzed from the strain. Her bloodied knuckles throbbed, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood from her nose. Every breath felt heavy.

"Star," Spinner's voice broke through the quiet. He approached cautiously, concern etched into his features. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," she whispered, eyes fixed on the blades of grass beneath her. Blood dripped from her lips, and her vision blurred as she leaned forward, on the verge of collapsing.

Without hesitation, Spinner pulled the marbles from his scarf and smashed them against the ground. A bright flash, and Dabi appeared next to her, his body still smoking from battle. Skeptic emerged beside him.

Miya looked up, her eyes meeting Dabi's. His hair, now stark white, was matted with sweat, and the burns on his face seemed to have worsened, though they were softened in the fading light. This morning, they had been together in bed, and now, here he stood—bloodied, but victorious. His eyes glinted with triumph as a twisted grin tugged at his lips. Miya's legs finally gave way, and she sank back onto the ground, feeling a brief sense of relief as the tension left her body.

Nearby, a Nomu stretched its grotesque flesh into a makeshift bed, laying Tomura's motionless body on top of it. From within Tomura's lips, the voice of All For One emerged. "I can feel it," the voice said, resonating with sinister satisfaction. "Things didn't go exactly as planned, but momentum is on our side. Those poor fools believe tomorrow brings hope, but I won't give the world time to recover. It's my turn now, and it will be... forever."

The aftermath of the battle hung heavy over the group. Spinner stared, wide-eyed, at his friend who now spoke with a voice that wasn't his own. Dabi, having revealed his identity to the world, had also exposed the secrets of the Safety Commission, the dirty truths they had hidden for years. Madam President was dead. Her father was dead. So many heroes were dead. The destruction was on an unimaginable scale. Miya felt the guilt crash over her like a wave—she had played a part in all of this.

"Listen well, my tireless Nomu," All For One's voice echoed with authority. "It's time for your most important task. Free my real body."

As if on cue, droplets of rain began to fall, lightly tapping against Miya's head. She looked up at the darkening sky, the storm clouds swirling above, obscuring the stars. The rain came down harder, streaking her face in place of the tears she refused to shed in front of the others.

With a deep breath, Miya pushed herself up on unsteady legs. She walked slowly toward the mansion, climbing the weathered steps and entering through the creaking doors. The house was cold and desolate, a ghost of its former self. Wallpaper peeled from the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of damp decay. Yellowed police tape hung limply from doorways, remnants of a past crime scene. Outlines of bodies stained the floor, along with dark, dried blood. What furniture remained had been smashed and vandalized by whoever had passed through. Graffiti marked the stairwell as she made her way to the second floor.

She found an empty room, closed the door behind her, and finally allowed herself to break. Tears burst from her eyes, uncontrollable and relentless. Her body shook as sobs wracked her chest, her stomach twisting with anguish. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound, but the grief poured out of her. Collapsing onto the dusty bed, she curled up, sinking into the old mattress as she cried into her arms.