The Day of the Dead Villain: The Witchdoctor

Chapter Four: What's Wrong with Me?

        "You're a student of U.A, correct?" A microphone was shoved into my face, forcing me into an uncomfortable state. Cameras and reporters were crowded around me, not allowing me to move much farther to the gate. "Tell us, what is it like to be taught by the number one hero, All Might?" a female reporter asked.

        I gave her a deadpan look, lowering my book from my view. "Exactly what you would expect," I answer before turning away to try and shove myself to the gate.

        "Hey, you look familiar," a male reporter stated. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

        "You should; I am pretty famous. I figured the face paint would have given it away, but it seems that journalists and reporters have dumbed down their ways. Now everyone can join." My sarcasm was obvious, but they didn't care all that much.

        I finally managed to reach the gate, but the interviewers didn't bother to follow and instead pestered another student. I continued my book where I left off. It was the first book Thorne published, since I haven't completely and fully analyzed it yet.

        "Even the most mediocre users of black magic know that blood is a crucial part of any spell. However, those of higher ability tend to notice that spells that once required blood no longer need it. At that moment, the black magic user's mojo is powerful enough to cast the spell without blood, since blood is the purest form of any sort of magic, black or white."

        I raised my eyebrow at the last statement. Blood is the purest form of magic? I always thought blood was some sort of offering so that black magic could actually work. I'm now starting to realize how little of my quirk I understand despite having used it for eleven years and counting. I'm glad I was able to get those books, otherwise I wouldn't have known how much powerful I could grow to become.

        The bell rang, and everyone settled themselves down in their seats as Eraserhead walked into the classroom. "Good work with yesterday's battle training," he droned in his monotone voice. My nose was still six foot deep in my book, my focus solely in the piece of literature. "I watched the battles on tape. Bakugou, quite wasting your skill and acting like a child. Midoriya, I don't know how many times I have to say this before you get it into your skull, but learn to control your quirk. "I don't know how" is not an option here. Witchdoctor, stop showing off and give other students a chance to do something... Witchdoctor?"

        I didn't notice him speaking, as my mind was too intent on studying "The Ways of Black Magic". Some one tapped me on the shoulder, and my focus broke with instinct replacing it. I dropped the book, grabbing the wrist of the poor soul who broke my concentration and flipping them over my head onto the ground. Still holding onto their wrist, I reveal my hunter's knife that I smuggled yesterday after hero training.

        "Ek sal my offer aan die koning van Le Mort met hierdie mes gee. Mag hy hierdie siel martel soos hy myne gedoen het," I chant, my eyes dulled with bloodlust and hunger. As I was about to plunge the knife into whoever's chest, I was jerked back and held down to the floor. I sat there for a moment before harshly pushing myself upwards, causing everyone who was on top of me to fall to the ground. I stood over them, my hunger for human flesh taking control of me.

        "Who cares what you are. Villain or monster, I will always love you."

        I blinked twice, my sane sense of mind coming back. I looked in front of me, seeing Midoriya look at me with a horrified facial expression while shaking. Todoroki was laying on the floor, scared out of his wits. He must of been the one I flipped. Everyone else was giving me look of fright and hatred.