Death Paradox Omnibus💥BAKUDEKU💥

Chapter 19

Happy Thanksgiving yall. Enjoy the extra-long chapter! Thank yall for being so patient.

THE HERMIT

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Chapter 19

Katsuki locked eyes with Dabi and felt the room tilt as if a certain malicious villain had spliced an old nightmare onto the here‑and‑now. Horns, flames, broken columns... memories from other lives flashed, gone in a blink, but the taste of ash lingered on his tongue.

The hell was this, some kind of sick fucking joke? The gall of this asshole. The fucking gall. Katsuki couldn't decide if it was more insulting that Dabi thought he was just another idiot he could buy off with a smile and a promise. Or just flat-out pathetic that Dabi would think for half a second that Katsuki, of all people in here, would ever want anything to do with someone as repulsive as him.

Blood thundered in his ears, drowning out the leaky faucet, the fluorescent buzz, the muffled shuffling of the other players pretending they weren't eavesdropping. Dabi leaned in, his voice velvet‑smooth, almost confidential, like they were old friends plotting something worth a damn.

"Word is, 099—Shigaraki and the rest are pulling the top dogs together. Final stretch. You, me, the only ones in here with the teeth to survive. The rest? Fodder. We cut the dead weight, carve up the games, and when the smoke clears, we split the prize money—for those who earned it. You get your cut, I get mine. Simple." Dabi's eyes flicked toward the stalls, toward Izuku, one lazy drag of cobalt malice, then slid back, invitation sharpened into a dare.

"You're not like those idiots begging to leave. Hell, you're not like anyone in here. People talk—they know you're the one to watch out for despite your... preferences."

Dabi kept talking. Kept selling, teeth flashing beneath the flicker of dead fluorescents. "Come on. Why settle for scraps? You want to survive, right? You want to win? Do it on your own terms, with people who actually know what it takes. You don't have to keep hauling anchors. You could lead. Hell, you could help run this game."

He let it hang, all wrapped in that con‑artist purr. The room, the promise, the idea of power so close Katsuki could taste the bitterness on his tongue.

But then Dabi let his gaze slip, just for a second, back to Izuku, and the blade pressed hardest when the sneer came through. "Only thing is, this isn't charity. You want in? Prove the leech isn't dead weight, or leave him behind. No one carries liabilities."

Liability. The word detonated in the echoes of where his quirk should have been.

Katsuki's mind frothed with a hundred insults, but one thought screamed louder, He thinks I'd give up Izuku for some fucking pocket change? As if Izuku were just dead weight. As if Katsuki hadn't bled for him more times than he could count, hadn't burned his way through hell just to get to him.

Katsuki almost laughed—sharp, ugly, and full of teeth. As if he didn't know how this shitty game was about to play out. As if he'd ever sell out the only person who mattered. Even if he'd belonged in this parallel—if this was his world, not some cosmic joke—the second he took Dabi's deal, Izuku wouldn't only be marked for death, but he'd have a knife in his back before he got within real reach of the money. They all would. Scum like Dabi didn't want partners; they wanted pawns, bodies to pile up in front of them until the field cleared.

He leaned in, crowding Dabi right back, all venom and iron. "That your big pitch? I trade loyalty for a chance to lick your shoes? Drop him, and what—play attack dog for you and that walking infection? You think I'm that fucking stupid?"