Death Paradox 💥BAKUDEKU💥

Chapter 31

The Emperor

✧༺✦✮✦༻✧

Chapter 31

Izuku's boots crunched against the brittle remains of shattered stone and debris as he moved cautiously past Katsuki, his wide eyes flicking to the jagged dais in the center of the cavern. There was a tension in his frame, the kind Katsuki had seen a hundred times before he walked into a fight—his shoulders squared, his hand brushing over the red ink in his wrist, as if he too could feel something now. Shoto followed close behind his fire flaring to brighten the space as he scanned the cavern with an intensity that matched the tight grip he kept on the hilt of his sword.

Katsuki watched them both like a hawk, his stance rigid, the pull in his chest thrumming louder now, almost unbearable. He didn't trust this place—not the suffocating air, not the faint hum of magic, and definitely not the way the runes on the massive archways and wall seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.

Kirishima loomed beside him, his molten eyes locked on the pair moving ahead. The dragon's tail flicked, the sound of his claws scraping against the stone floor echoing faintly. Izuku stopped abruptly a few paces from the dais, his head tilting slightly as he scanned the area. His voice broke the silence, soft but carrying in the cavern's oppressive stillness. "Kacchan... what do you feel?"

The sound echoed, bouncing off the cavern walls and returning distorted, faintly warped by the unnatural acoustics of the space. It wasn't loud—it didn't need to be. The weight of the question hung heavy in the air, like the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for Katsuki's response.

Katsuki opened his mouth to answer, but the sharp prickle on his wrist made him freeze. A sharp, stinging heat flared to life, and he hissed in surprise, his free hand snapping to his wrist as if to brush it away. The red ink of the Emperor's mark—the cursed tether that had led them this far—was glowing faintly, the symbol pulsing in sync with the thread that had pulled him here.

"What the—" he bit off the rest of his words as the warmth intensified, spreading through his arm and into his chest. The sensation wasn't just physical—it was invasive, burrowing into him like a claw, gripping his very core.

It was a pulse, a thrum, resonating with the magic in the room. Katsuki's teeth clenched, his breath hissing out through them as the whispers began.

Faint at first, like the rustle of leaves in a distant forest, they grew louder, more distinct, filling the cavern with a dissonant murmur that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The sound crawled under his skin, prickling against his senses like the static before a storm.

Katsuki's crimson eyes darted around the room, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. The runes on the gateway flared brighter, their unnatural glow illuminating the jagged lines carved into the stone with a sickly, otherworldly light. The whispers weren't just sounds—they were words, fragmented and incoherent, but unmistakably deliberate.

A chant.

The realization had his attention snapping to Izuku.

It wasn't just noise anymore—it was in his head, filling every corner of his consciousness with fragmented words that twisted and distorted before they could take shape.

He glanced at Kirishima, expecting some kind of confirmation—an acknowledgment that the dragon could feel it too, hear the same cursed murmurs invading his thoughts. But Kirishima's eyes only met his with wary concern.

Nothing.

"Shitty Scales," Katsuki growled, his voice low and sharp. "You hearing this?"

The dragon's massive head tilted, his tongue flicking out briefly as his nostrils flared. Hearing what? Kirishima only questioned, his confusion radiating like a static hum.