Death Paradox 💥BAKUDEKU💥

Chapter 17

THE HERMIT

✧༺✦✮✦༻✧

Chapter 17

Chaos wasn't even the right fucking word. Chaos was what you got when All Might Fought AFO, or when the intruder alarm goes off in a school full of idiots. This was about to be a goddamn massacre. Bodies smashed together, two cyclone fronts meeting over a raging battlefield. Katsuki felt the impact rattle up his teeth, a vicious jolt in his molars, arms going hot as he drove his knee into someone's stomach. Noise obliterated thought—shouts, screams, helmets flying off and crunching underfoot in the initial collision of players. His heart hammered like it wanted to crack his ribs, each beat shoving more adrenaline into his limbs.

He barreled forward, teeth bared, shoulder‑checking a bastard hard enough to feel cartilage pop... or maybe it was the damn sound of breaking bone? Pain spiked, bright and honest. Good. Pain meant he was still swinging. Some idiot's head bounced off the turf, helmet gone, probably about to get trampled. Fuck it. One less threat clawing for the pole, for Izuku.

Another bastard lunged, wild-eyed and frothing panic. Katsuki dropped low, hooked Player 035 around the waist and suplexed him into the dirt. Turf scraped his forearms raw as he rolled clear, breath coming out in ragged bursts, every inhale tasting like blood and plastic. He scrambled upright, sweat blurring his vision, lips pulled back in a snarl.

What he wouldn't give for some of that berserker strength, just a damn taste. Hell, he'd sell a kidney for even a fraction of One For All right now. But this world was stripped bare, quirkless and cruel. For one ragged heartbeat he wondered, really wondered, if this was what it felt like for Izuku. Fighting empty‑handed, every breath borrowed, no power but stubborn will. Katsuki had seen those memories, "lived" them in flash‑burn visions, but being present for it here, in real time, hurt in a way the echoes never could.

All he had left was fists, rage, and the promise to keep Izuku breathing.

Katsuki risked a look back. Izuku was up there, perched on the pole, green eyes nearly burning like arc‑lights. He booted an attacker off the pole; the body pin‑wheeled back into the mass below. Katsuki's every nerve screamed protect him, clawing to sprint there and rip the crowd apart, to be the shield he'd sworn to become what felt like a hundred damn lifetimes ago.

But he couldn't. His job was here, to break the wave, guard the ring, trust the nerd to handle the stragglers that got past the rest.

He slammed into a cluster surging for their shield wall. Mirko crashed beside him, wild grin splitting her face as she slip‑tackled a guy so hard he skidded yards across the field. Her laugh cracked like a whip. "Keep up, brat!" she barked, dropping low to scythe another bastard off his feet. Katsuki's own lips twitched, savage joy flaring through the fear. Adrenaline had a funny way of making Katsuki feel bulletproof even while his lungs were screaming for air, but he'd ride the high till it burned out.

Combat turned ugly fast, hands grabbing vests, nails raking flesh, buckles catching and biting. Every breath burned, copper tang of blood mixing with sweat that stung his eyes.

Izuku's voice cut through the din. "Hold! Keep pushing them back!"

Across the sea of bodies, Katsuki clocked a knot of a dozen attackers dragging back, regrouping around some tall bastard waving them into formation. Great. some dipshit trying to play field captain. The cluster tightened, then surged as one, spearing straight for the seam between Mirko and Uraraka.

The hit felt seismic. Katsuki's slippers skidded, shoulders on fire, as bodies rammed into him like a battering ram. For a breath, the line buckled and the pole lurched with them, tilting, wood creaking. Izuku pin‑wheeled up top as one foot slipped, fingers clawing white‑knuckled around the rung before he hauled himself steady. Vertigo clawed Katsuki's gut. Shit. If that fucking pole tipped any lower, it was over. No more second chances, just death and the void.