PART DEUX OF THE KAMINO BATTLE IS HERE.

Also my new computer arrives soon! And a new desk! Everything's looking up Milhouse.

But for now, READ ON MY DUDES!


"How did you… how did you do that?"

Hitoshi was in a state of shock.

Firstly, he couldn't believe their mad-cap plan had worked. Launching Dark Shadow up into the sky on a ramp made of ice, powered by the rocket-booster engines of Katsuki's quirk had seemed like a complete shot in the dark. Hell, they hadn't even thought that there would be a mystical barrier over the ritual.

Lucky them that All Might, and then Izuku had broken it.

Ibara's vines had descended like ropes thrown to a drowning man, and against all the odds they had captured him.

Of course, everything being in complete madness had helped.

But that wasn't even the part Hitoshi was in the most shock about, after all, he had never expected to fail. He had always thought of victory, of saving his friend and therefore the world.

No, it was the moment that had followed.

It had been almost entirely on instinct, and he had acted with a speed which even he was surprised he possessed. Perhaps it was the power of One For All within him, but he had felt as though he had been moving through water, watching everything coming together with the fluidity of a semi-solid liquid.

He had barely finished turning from making sure Izuku was on Dark Shadow's back when he had seen the… thing move before him.

It wasn't a shadow. Shadows had definition. One could see a shadow.

This was… an impression. It was almost a vision, a dream or nightmare cast upon the world before him.

Something utterly beautiful, and terrible, and sexual, and depraved.

Something that, just for a moment, asked as sweet as ricin for him to bow his head and accept his quick death.

But Hitoshi had not done that.

Hitoshi had instead done the one thing he thought to do. Because he knew, in that atomic-second of a moment, that he could not fight this thing and win. Humans could not fight concepts as old as the human soul itself. They could not fight against pride, lust, greed, wrath, sloth, and gluttony as much as they could always attempt to be humble, chaste, charitable, peaceful, diligent, and patient.

Human beings, ultimately, were cursed to experience all those sins and virtues. It was what made them human to begin with.

But he could do the right thing. He could stand up against the temptation of the dark, and use his voice, his voice which he had cursed for so long, as a weapon to fight the evil within the heart of humankind.

He could use his voice to save lives, to bring hope.

And so, in that moment in which he experienced every drop of rain falling onto his face, every ache of his worn limbs, every beat of his hammering heart, he took in a lungful of cold, ash-filled air, with the power of One For All surging through his limbs he had shouted, "STOP."

His quirk lit up within his body like a spark, and he felt the instant connection between his mind and the mind of the being before him.

It was a connection that threatened to break him in two.

He'd felt it. Within that second, he'd felt it. He'd felt an infinity of corruption, of unholy hate, of evil.

It'd threatened to rush through the psychic connection and flood into his brain. It'd threatened to consume him as it had done to a million other souls.

But his will was like that of iron.

And it was not just his will alone.

He'd felt them. The vestiges of his gifted quirk. Eight other beings joining his willpower, his resistance against the horrifying, utterly inhuman thing at the other end of their connection.

Eight other voices cried out with his own, and with their power, with their faith hammering within his body, he'd banished the corruption back.

It was over in nothing more than half a second.

But it was half a second that Hitoshi would remember for the rest of his life.

Dark Shadow had dived under the swinging multi-limbed monster. The Fallen Angel, which Hitoshi only vaguely recalled as some Bull-Serpentine thing, had missed them.

And before they could turn and strike again, something in the shape of Nemesis but bigger, stronger, and more ethereal had hammered into it with such force that the demonic bird they were riding on almost toppled over from the shockwave.

Thankfully Ibara's vines, which she had wrapped around Dark Shadow and the other riders, kept them steady.

"Hitoshi?"

He blinked out of his thoughts. He felt dazed and sick, and his head was pounding. "Wha- what?"

"Your nose." Ibara was suddenly by his side, looking over him with focused eyes. Wait, were there two Ibaras? "You're bleeding. Are you okay?"

He could taste it now. Mingling with the cold rain on his lips, ice-cold and coppery.

"Hitoshi." He turned again. Shoto's blue eye seemed to glow in the dark. The sounds of the battle seemed to be increasingly far away now, melding into the already war-like sounds coming from Tokyo proper. The teenager blinked slowly at Shoto before he held up a few fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Erm… several?" Hitoshi spoke, but as he did so he noticed how his words slurred.

"He's concussed," Katsuki called out from the other end of the huge bird, though a huge grin split his face. "I can't believe you fuckin' did that! You crazy bastard!"

Hitoshi could only manage a wobbly grin back as he fell to his knees, guided down by Ibara and Shoto. "Me neither."

"We need to find a place to land," Shoto replied stoically, though loud enough to be heard over the wind. "Somewhere out of the fighting."

"I can get us anywhere we need to be," Dark Shadow cawed back. "But the Prince better appreciate this!"

"Just get us from the fighting," Ibara commanded, clearly now taking charge as Hitoshi could barely get his muddled thoughts together. "Turn north, there, the far lights. That should be Tokyo general hospital. Land us there."

"Yes ma'am," The demon announced. "Air Dark Shadow hopes you've enjoyed your flight and recommends you give plenty of apples to the pilot, as I've done a great job and saved all your worthless souls with my incredible flying skills."

Hitoshi was barely listening. It was really starting to hit him now what he'd just done.

In the space of ten minutes, he'd saved Izuku's life, brainwashed a Fallen Angel, and saved the world.

He grinned drunkenly. It was well worth the concussion.


Himiko had always thought she reveled in chaos. She had always loved blood, it had always been an essential part of her being, after all. Her quirk demanded the taste of it, the feel of it on her skin, the warmth and life it promised as she lapped it on her tongue.

The ability to become someone new, someone different, someone better. She could escape being Himiko Toga, if just for a little while, and become someone who didn't have her weaknesses, her fears, her worries. She could become the people she admired, the people she fell in love with.

She had loved Father.

From the moment she had looked upon them she had loved them. It had been deeper than the usual infatuations she'd had in the past. This was no teenage crush, but a deep, heartfelt love. The love that she thought she'd once had for her own mother and father before she realized they had never loved her.

You didn't force someone you love to become someone else.

And that was exactly what they did.

It was exactly what, she now realized, Father had attempted to do. They had forced her to become someone she wasn't. Someone who came to heel when called, who followed the rules and did what they told. Sure, they let her kill and drink blood and indulge her basest desires. They had promised she could do that forever.

But only if she followed their rules. Their restrictions.

That was why she had wanted to rise above. That was why she had seen the freedom Tomura had and wanted it for herself. The promise of true freedom from all their limits and rules. To be free even from being human and to be with people who would truly love her, for her.

Yes, that alone was something she wanted more than anything.

Love. Freedom. Belonging.

But, as she watched Izuku leap into the sky, caught by striking green vines from the back of a shadow-black crow in the pouring rain, she realized something.

She would never be free like he was free. She would never be able to live her life without restrictions like he could live his life.

Not until she became one of them. Only by truly shedding her humanity could she find the freedom she had always wanted in life.

And she would be reborn here, in the middle of this Hell on Earth. The air was hot with blood and fire, she could taste it on her tongue, feel it coating her skin and clothes. It was choking the air and, as she coughed, she felt blood drip from her lips.

And yet.

Her heart was still beating. It was hammering in her chest. As bullets pinged off the brick around her, as the air filled with screaming and madness, she found herself still alive. And that meant, even now, she had a chance.

She staggered upwards, climbing desperately to her feet. She saw the others. They were doing everything they could to protect Jin, who was really the only thing stopping them from being utterly destroyed, while also trying to stop people getting to Tomura now the shield had collapsed.

Sure, other demon-hosts had been summoned by Kurogiri, but they weren't focused on protecting the Heralds. They were here to sate their own bloodlusts. The small group had even been forced to fight a few of them off.

Tomura was no longer floating in the air, suspended on ethereal powers. She could see him, collapsed within the circle, bloody and raw and covered in ash. He was slowly picking himself up, though he seemed dazed and confused.

She realized that her chance had finally come.

"COMPRESS!" She screamed as she staggered forward. She was bleeding from somewhere. Her stomach, possibly. A stray piece of shrapnel might have nicked her. She didn't care. She didn't feel the pain.

All she felt was the last, desperate moments of chance. A chance that, if she didn't take now, would be gone forever. Along with her life. Along with everything she had ever hoped and dreamed.

She had one shot at freedom, one last roll of the iron dice, and she would take it.

The demon turned to look at her, his mask was swirling swiftly as he kept throwing out black marbles from within his sleeves. They would explode, turning into huge rocks or tree trunks, and colliding with anyone who got too close.

The demon turned and noticed the fallen man. With a swift nod towards her, he turned to the others. "I'm going to rescue Tomura!" He cried. "Dabi! Cover me!"

The black-cloaked man turned, and for a moment, Himiko felt bile rise, sour and sticky, into the back of her throat.

The azure flame was eating him. She could see it, glowing where dead flesh was stitched to healthy skin, giving him an ethereal, ghostly look. It even came from within his mouth, dragon-like, as he spoke.

"I'M BUSY!"

"TOUYA!" The demon cried again. "NOW IS THE TIME!"

At the call of his true name, the man seemed to snap out of whatever blood-rage he'd been feeling, and his eyes focused on Himiko. Then he nodded suddenly.

No more words were needed.

They turned, and with the barrier down, they began moving as quickly as they could into the ritual circle.

When the barrier had fallen, the power had rushed out across the field like a pack of hunting dogs looking for their prey. However, the circle itself was still its epicenter, and so she could feel the dark, unholy power of the ritual rake and claw across her skin.

It caused her body to wobble, to stumble, and her already thin strength to whisper from her limbs. For a second, she wondered if she could really do this. If she would even live to get to the center.

No. No, she was meant to do this.

Destiny, fate, providence.

It thrummed through the very air, shaking her to her bones. It powered her heart, her very being as she pressed herself onwards.

Policeman, heroes, even other host-demons leapt towards them, trying to stop them or kill them or both. It no longer seemed to matter who was fighting on what side, or who was trying to stop who. The madness of the battle-fury generated by the two Fallen had seeped into the minds of all those too weak to stop it.

The entire city was no doubt mad with bloodlust by now. A true battlefield, a glimpse of what the War of Heaven had been like, even at this micro-scale.

The ritual lines were now swimming through the air around them, flashes of azure light that still interlinked and changed and mutated and grew and shrank. They changed as one looked at them, moving from words to hieroglyphs of an unknown, dead language, to mathematical equations and more. Himiko's eyes hurt if she looked at them for too long.

"Don't." A voice within her spoke. "Don't focus on that. Keep going. We can do this. Our birth is so close."

"Our… birth…"

"What was that?" Dabi called as he turned.

That was a mistake.

A second later a gigantic, hulking form of a man crashed into the ground beside him, tearing the floor up and throwing a black-coated man aside. With him came the sudden rush of speeding air as a dead man wielding the stolen power of a hundred souls cratered into the ground.

Himiko was thrown clear away. She didn't have the strength to keep standing and she landed hard. Her knees scraped, her nose broke as her face planted into the floor. She was sure she'd lost a tooth, but the pain was so numbed from her dying body that she could barely feel a thing.

She crawled herself up to see a man who seemed to glow with an inner light, fight a being who seemed to do nothing but absorb the very darkness around him.

They were like titans from a forgotten myth. Even in the absolute chaos, of the deafening noise and dust and fire of the battle, they were there. Each almost serving as an avatar of the Fallen Archangel they had allied themselves with.

All Might was a King amongst men. A leader who commanded the allegiance and bravery of those around him. A man who would stop at nothing to see his will done, though it was a will bent solely towards doing the most good in the most amount of time.

The other was a dark, debased thing. A revenant of a creature not human enough to be called a man. His flesh, exposed where his once rich clothes had been torn away, rippled with scarred flesh and hidden power. His body reshaped itself to his own desires, becoming blades and bunched muscle.

Himiko could even see scales in some places.

The two locked into combat, smashing at one another with blows just slow enough so that the eye could follow, unlike the mythical battle of their masters. Their blood ran in the still pouring rain, coating, and staining their uniforms with the bright crimson of battle.

"IT'S OVER!" All Might roared in defiance, his voice a booming call to all who wished only for freedom and safety. "IZUKU HAS ESCAPED!"

"It's not over, fool." All For One replied, his voice a cold, unfeeling snarl. "My victory is still achievable. I will see this world burn, at my hand or Tomura's! KUROGIRI!" The command was already being enacted before it could be spoken. "GET THE HERALDS OUT OF HERE!"

And like that, the two were gone, vanishing back into the rain-drenched chaos with a bang of force.

Even in her current state, with her vision doubling, blood flowing from her broken nose, and a busted lip, Himiko's heart started at this. Behind her, a gate was already opening up, as they were for every one of the Heralds.

Magne was grabbing Jin and hauling him into one of the portals, though Dabi was moving to try and cover Compress and Himiko still.

"GO!" Compress roared above the maddening noise of the battle.

"But-"

Before he could say anymore, something rushed through the night air. A missile that seemed to move faster than a bullet, but one that was easily several feet in length.

Dabi dodged out the way as the bullet, white and sharp, rushed past him.

He fell into his portal and was swallowed.

Compress, however, dived forward and acted instantly. One hand stretched towards the missile, the other towards Tomura, both were instantly swallowed into the tiny black marbles of his power.

Himiko stood, shocked, simply staring at the demon.

Compress turned towards her and, ducking from a rain of bullets that whizzed overhead, moved quickly to her side. "Himiko! I must evacuate Tomura, however, I can give you this last gift."

He grabbed her and began hauling her towards the center of the ritual. She could feel its power clawing over her. She knew it was somehow aware of her, of this new mortal moving into its center.

She could barely stand, her legs felt like jelly, her body felt too light and her head was pounding. And yet her will, her desire to be free pushed her on.

Freedom meant everything to her. Even beyond her fear of death.

"What… gift?" She panted, tasting blood on her too pale lips.

"This." He held out a marble. "I think this is what you need."

She could see inside it. Power hummed from within, dark and terrible power. Power, however, that she knew was not Tomura.

"But," she panted out, each word an effort of will, "Tomura is gone… I need a sacrifice…"

"I'm not sure you do." Compress mused as he set her down where Tomura had been only a moment before. She frowned at his mask. "I cannot willingly let you sacrifice Tomura, however, what I have is of far greater value. Your soon-to-be father has already gifted you his blood, but with this." And he held the marble up. Rain dripped from it. "This is a piece of them. Do you understand? As Prometheus stole fire from the Gods, you too shall steal a piece of them, and use it for your own needs."

For a moment, he reached forward, and he ran an almost fatherly hand over Himiko's blonde, ash-coated hair, brushing it from her eyes. "You can do this, Himiko, true daughter of Satani. Become the second-born of the Fallen, and find me when you have been forged anew."

And with that, he placed the black marble before her, stood, and retreated. Himiko watched as he vanished into the portal meant for her. The second he vanished, the marble popped open in a wash of brimstone scented ash.

Before her, still covered in the gore and blood of the being it was torn from, was Satani's rib. On instinct, Himiko began reaching for it, but she suddenly coughed. Her own blood spluttered from her lips, landing on the rib and mingling with the now dripping blood onto the ritual. It seemed to devour it, rising it from the floor and mixing it into the air. She saw the lettings change, and something with the power shifted.

She felt as though it's attention, the attention of everything the ritual was meant to be, and create, turn on her. Suddenly, she got the strange impression that it now… understood.

And she felt something inside her soul begin to pulse, like a second heartbeat.

Like something waiting to be born was growing inside her very spirit. Something on the very edge of true birth into the world.

And Himiko knew how to complete the ritual.

She stood on wobbling feet, raised her arms, and she began to chant the words that Satani had taught her long before.

"Oh, brightest one of the darkest night, I lift my eyes up to thee."


Azrael was losing.

He wasn't sure how many people were dead at this point. The warehouse had erupted into fire and the heroes had been forced out. They had called for backup, but the fight had almost instantly washed into the streets of Tokyo. The city was burning on either end, and more reports were coming in of other places erupting into fire and chaos.

And it was dawning on him, as the sun would dawn upon the last day of a siege, that he could not escape.

People were going to die. Maybe thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people. And he was going to be forced to let it happen.

All because he wasn't fast enough. Because he wasn't strong enough.

Because he wasn't good enough.

Old memories flashed before his eyes as he turned and sliced apart a monstrosity that had been as large as a bear but made to resemble a riot of mutated insects.

Old memories of being called the slowest of his siblings. The weakest. The crybaby. Lucifer had defended him in those days. That was partly why he'd joined him in their rebellion. But it was more than that.

He had wanted to prove himself.

To his siblings.

To Father.

Azrael the Joy Bringer, the Laughing One, the Giver of Charity. He wanted to be Azrael the Strong. Azrael the Swift.

He'd become Azrael the Unforgiven.

And now he'd earn that name. He'd never be forgiven for not taking more decisive action against Satani, even against Lucifer.

As he turned again and kicked the face of a screaming half-man, half-tubeworm and then turn again to kill another three demons who were all trying to dog-pile him at once, he cursed himself for being too slow at recognizing the signs. They had all been there. The build-up of power. The tension in the air.

But Izuku had changed everything. The boy who was of the Fallen yet of also of Man. The Prince of Hell with the heart of gold.

Izuku's presence had convinced him that this time things might be different. This time he might just have the shot at redemption he had always wanted. Through Izuku, the world would change, and Azrael would do all he could to help bring about that change because it would mean hope for the condemned.

Hope for himself.

But he couldn't escape.

Every time he tried to disengage, to move towards the main fight, he heard more screaming, more people in need of a savior. And what hope of redemption would he have if he didn't respond? Each time he diverted and tried to save lives. Sometimes he worn, sometimes he failed.

This was, thankfully, one of the winning times.

The demons were taken apart in a shower of gore and angelic golden flame. The swords he held tightly to his hands were getting their fill and more tonight. And yet as he turned, his great wings soaked through with rain, he heard even more coming.

He barely had time to draw breath before seven more demons scrambled at him, climbing over the corpses of dead civilians and policemen, some with fleshy remains dripping from blood-covered mouths.

All For One had claimed half a legion had been converted into these host-creatures. Beings that combined every worst aspect of a demon without their ability to think or reason. They were the worst of Hell's maddened hoards.

And Azrael simply couldn't escape, he couldn't get away to help end the source.

Because if they were here, there was no doubt in his mind that they would be with Satani too. He would revel in their monstrousness, their perversions against the set order of Hell's known chaos.

This might have been their plan all along. Lure Lucifer into a trap, then simply drown the King of Hell in his own twisted subjects.

Azrael readied himself for another fight, just as he heard someone coming. Heavy footsteps pounding on rain-soaked concrete.

"GET BACK!" He roared as he again launched into the battle. He wasn't tired. He couldn't get tired. He could fight this fight until the end of time if need be.

The figure didn't get back, they didn't even slow down. As Azrael carved into the flesh of the screaming monsters, he heard a voice call out beside him. "You shouldn't be here, m'lord!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Azrael shouted again, turning to get a quick glance at the man. He was huge, whoever he was. Taller than Azrael. Taller than All Might even. And wide, practically obese by any standard. And yet, in the quick glance Azrael got, he saw the man punch a demon's head clean in with one blow.

So, it wasn't fat, it was muscle. Or both.

The man's hoodie was down from his head and a black eye mask was across his face. His blonde hair was soaked flat against his head with rain, though his wide, friendly sunflower-colored eyes shined with a focused battle-light.

And there was something else too. Something that almost caused Azrael to pause.

Almost.

He turned again, cutting down two demons at once, then spotting five more quickly approaching.

He moved so he was defending the huge man's back. "Who sent you?"

"No one sent me, m'lord, I just happened to be here."

"Yeah, right." Azrael smashed in another demon, blood spraying in an arch and golden embers dancing in the pouring storm. "Is Gabriel spying on me again?"

"M'lord, please! You need to get out of here. I can hold them off."

"You'll die. People will die if I leave." Azrael turned. He saw, not too far from him, Endeavor raising a mighty fist and immolating a gang of demons that had tried to rush him. And he could see behind him were two heroes on the ground, one bleeding from their cupped head while the other lay still.

Another death on his conscience.

Endeavor was already being assaulted by more demons. They were endless. This nightmare was one he would never wake up from.

He had been there at Verdun. This was almost the same. When good men died in their hundreds and he had done nothing to save them. When the rain had turned everything into an endless river of mud, as it was doing now with the torn-up roads and collapsed buildings. The only difference here was there was no relentless drum-roll of artillery.

He suspected even that might start up soon.

"Lord Azrael."

He turned again to face the man. A few second's lapse in the attack gave him the chance.

To anyone else, the man was a hero. Dressed in his costume, bloodied, and battered but still breathing. And yet to Azrael's eyes, and to the eyes of every maddened demon rushing at them, he was more than that.

An angel of the Lord stood before Azrael.

He had no wings. No harp. No flowing robes. But angels didn't need those things, nor did they have them for the most part. Angels needed only the heart, and the will to do good in the world. To help others when they could, and to push back the dark when called upon.

This man, or rather, the angel possessing his body, had all those things in droves.

"What's your name, soldier?" Azrael asked.

"Fatgum. Taishiro if you mean what's on my driver's license." The man's smile twitched before frowning. "You need to go to them, m'lord. Your family. They need you."

"These people need me." Azrael turned and prepared for the next wave. "There are human souls here that need saving."

"They will be. But by other men." Taishiro nodded to Endeavor and those around him, who were fighting with all their might against the onslaught of ravenous monsters. "We can handle it. They can handle it. Your power is needed elsewhere."

"And how do you know about any of that?"

"Because I'm not stupid?" Taishiro raised an eyebrow. "Something big went down. Something that you lot always get yourselves involved in. I'm just a line angel. I'm just trying to do my best here. So should you."

The angel's simple words cut to his core. Was he doing his best? Would leaving here risk the lives of Endeavor and the other heroes? Or the people in the surrounding buildings? Something deep in his heart told him that this was all an excuse.

An excuse not to go and get involved in another fight between his siblings. An excuse to run away from his problems, as he had done all those millennia ago.

"Humans ain't so soft anymore. Look at that man." He nodded to Endeavor who was holding off a demon while other heroes led a family out of a collapsed building and into the arms of officers, even as some of their number fired sporadically into the burning alleyways. "His soul is awful, but he's still helping. Things ain't like they used to be, so go, m'lord. We can handle this."

Azrael paused.

Things were changing. The world was changing. Mere decades ago, no human city would have survived this level of onslaught. Demons would have burned it to the ground by the night's end and millions would be dead.

But now… now the human heroes were holding their line. Maybe they wouldn't last forever, but their strength alone here and now was thanks to the miracle of their newly gifted divine blessings.

They could do this. They could handle this fight.

At least until Azrael helped cut off the head of the snake who had started it.

"Keep them safe." He commanded, turning back to the hulking Angel. "Do your duty. For God Almighty."

Taishiro put a hand over his heart and gave a small bow of the head. "For God Almighty, and for all mankind."


Another blow smashed into him, and All Might coughed out a spray of blood. However, he turned again and launched a blow, a blow that smashed into the guard of his enemy and would have shattered the bones in his arms, if it weren't for his own immense strength.

He was fighting for his life. His heart was pounding in his chest, his body screaming at him with a dozen wounds. Blood coated his face and soaked into his once colorful uniform. It mingled with the sweat and rain and dust and gunsmoke. He could taste the devastation on his tongue. It tasted of ash and blood and dirt. It was like grit forming at the back of his throat and gathering within the very base of his lungs.

Every inhale was to resist death, yet every exhale was the sapping of his strength.

He could handle that. He could handle the thought of his own death. He had long since been prepared for it, though he didn't imagine it would be in such a place, fighting under the swords of Fallen Archangels with the very Creator themselves watching from on high. He had always imagined his death as he supposed many other heroes imagined it.

He always imagined he'd die with his boots on.

It was an old hero's adage. A true hero went out on the field, face-up, with every last breath of their life spent in service to others.

They died with their boots on.

He knew he would die tonight. There was no doubt about that. The level of devastation around him was proof enough, but even so, All For One's power was utterly overwhelming. He wasn't sure how much stronger his arch-nemesis had become in the time when All Might had ruled, and peace had reigned.

How could the dead grow stronger than the living?

No, those were questions for another day, when he wasn't being slowly murdered across a flaming world of ruined buildings, mushed corpses, and ash smoke.

All For One came on again, rushing out of the night as a hurricane of force. A fist three times bigger than his actual body hit All Might, and the world ruptured around him. His own muscles strained against the raw power of the blow, and he could feel his own bones pulling to their breaking point within his own arms.

He couldn't take many more blows like that.

The second he had his opening, he shoved off the force of the attack and turned his whole body as he curled his fist and smashed it against All For One. The black-clothed man should have been obliterated by the attack. Any normal human would have been turned into nothing short of a fine red mist.

But the man took the blow. He knew he'd done some damage, but it wasn't enough. He roared and attacked again, fueled by the semi-madness of the battle-rage that was infecting every living thing around him.

His enemy caught All Might's fist in one hand and held it tight, All Might attempted to strike with the other, but the man caught that one too.

And he could see it. Leering and fleshless through the few cracks in the mask that he wore.

All For One's true face, or what was left of it. The exposed bone, the lipless teeth, the lack of eyes, and only the ever-staring sockets of a living skull.

It was horrifying and impossible and sickening all at once.

"Give it up, old friend." The man's voice, now only half-filtered by his mask, came out as a cross between a semi-electronic growl and a rasping, deathly whisper. "You can't keep this up. The Heralds have escaped, and the false King is losing to the might of my patron. You can't fight against fate itself."

"As long as I breathe," All Might replied breathlessly, "I will always fight against you."

"Even when your spirit is dying? I can see it inside you." The man leaned closer. He stank of corruption, both physical and spiritual. He was a rotting corpse that refused to die. A soul so black with sin that only its own hatred kept it going.

All Might felt his palms tingling in disgust at even touching this thing. For it was no man but a beast that stood, opposing him.

"The last few embers of my precious little brother's quirk. One For All is dying, though I suspect you've already passed it along." All Might swore the leering skull started to grin ever wider. "I haven't found out who, not yet, but I will. I'll find them and tear it from their body. Then I'll be as powerful as they are, a mortal strong enough to rival the very Celestials."

As if to answer his point, another building was demolished as the two sibling Fallen smashed into it. The shockwave shook the very earth, and yet they barely even seemed to notice. Their power was utterly beyond anything that humankind could, or should, ever have.

"That's all that matters to you, isn't it?" All Might roared back at him. Or at least, he tried to roar back.

His voice was breaking. His weaknesses were seeping through the cracks in his hero form. He could tell his muscles were shrinking, his outfit becoming baggier with every second that passed. His cheeks were shrinking in and his eyes darker, more desperate than ever before.

But he would not surrender. Not to this man. Not ever.

"All you think about is power and domination over others. You want to be like them? They aren't anything like us! They lack the one thing that we've always had! The one thing that you threw away! We have our humanity! And that makes all the difference!"

He had only met one Fallen and one Archangel, and yet in that hour that they had talked, planned, and coldly calculated their attack, he had already figured them out.

They lacked humanity.

They lacked the very spark that made humans what they were. Flawed, weak, desperate, and yet with those faults they became loving, kind, and brave. The Celestials were almost almighty, and yet with their power came a heartlessness that they themselves couldn't see.

It was more evident in Lucifer than it had been in Azrael, but it was there in both of them.

They both didn't care about human lives as much as they cared about the end result. What it could all do for them.

That's what they lacked.

It's what made Izuku so special.

The fact that he had that power inside him, the power of the Celestials, and yet he still cared deeply about those around him. He didn't see them as pawns, tools, or useful pieces in a cosmic game.

He saw them as people.

And that was something that this monster had long since lost. It was why, even now, All For One was far less human than even Izuku was. Even Hitoshi, who had been rejected and typecast all his life had more humanity in his little finger than this inhuman being that stood before him. Hitoshi, his Successor, the one who would carry the mantle of One For All into the future.

The one who would have to face this creature, if he failed to stop him now.

"Humanity." All For One practically spat out. "A worthless millstone around our necks. We are Gods to the rest of the world. But I won't try to convince you otherwise. I know you won't listen." He pulled back suddenly, kicking up a cloud of ash and dust as he did so and flying up into the air. "After all, the sheep can never truly understand the shepherd."

All Might's fury was at a fever pitch. This man was responsible for all of this. He had made the deal with the devil and brought hell to earth. He had caused the eyes of Celestial beings to turn upon their tiny corner of the world and now they were all suffering the consequences.

He moved to rush towards him, maybe there was a split second where-

He heard the air splitting behind him as something was hurled in his direction. It was white and narrow, and he barely dodged it in time.

Yet what followed was even worse.

A blade.

Long and sharp it stabbed into All Might like a sword, and indeed it served the same purpose. Its end was blended into All For One's arm, where it had formed. He could feel its cold, uncaring steel cutting, hot and clean through his stomach. It was in the same place as his oldest wound, the flower-petal mark of All For One's near-death blow.

Blood ran down it like a swiftly flowing river, and All Might knew that this was it. It had all come full circle. The wound that had once almost killed him, would still be the death mark that ended his life.

He was going to die. Just like all the previous holders had died. The curse of One for All, the painful death that awaited each and every one of them.

It had come for him.

And it would one day come for young Hitoshi.

No.

The voice came not as one whisper, not even in his own voice, but several voices speaking as one. Several voices which rose up from within him, from the last dying embers of that once blazing fire within his soul.

NO.

All Might's eyes focused from their daze. His body was wasting away on the blade, and he could see All For One's horrific, grinning skull visage beneath that cracked mask of black glass and iron.

"NO!"

All For One was shocked. He could see that. He could see it in the way that his eyes widened, that his body, just for a moment, went slack with surprise.

He didn't see the fist impacting his skull, shattering the last of the glass.

Shattering his skull.

The jaw came away, as did several teeth. The last few bits of muscle keeping the corpse-face together simply tore away.

If All Might were going to die, he would die giving his for all who wanted to live in peace.

He would die destroying the evil that had blighted the world.

All For One flew from him away before him. The sword melted into a sickly goop that fell to the ashen floor. He bounced off the ground, skull-face utterly ruined. Black blood leaked from him onto the rain-soaked ground.

All Might fell, bloody and broken.

From somewhere behind him, as every other sound seemed to drift away, he was barely aware of someone speaking. Chanting, almost. The sounds of war were fading, as was everything else, but that soft chanting remained.

He felt the air heating up.

Was this what it was like to die? Chanting and warmth? He'd never heard of that before.

The sky was splitting open, or at least it looked like that.

Then he heard a roar. A roar that split the very fabric of reality open, that tore at the seams of the universe, and caused all who heard it to weep uncontrollably with the mourning of the death of light.

Then everything went blindingly white.

And All Might was sure he had just died.


Lucifer had delivered a crippling blow to their sibling. A rib, torn out of their very chest and thrown to the ground. A rib the size of a sword, but a rib, nonetheless.

But what was a rib to a superbeing?

Satani was already healing. Already their body was stitching together back what it had lost. Nothing could stop them, after all, for they had been designed to never be stopped. They were aspects of God's power, some twisted and deformed, others still pure and full of light, but they were aspects, nonetheless.

Lucifer had bought enough time for their son to escape, and in doing so they had truly unleashed their wrath upon their sibling.

But Lucifer was still less so than they had been before.

And they were losing.

Their body was screaming at him to stop, to slow down, to take a breath. Just one. Just a single moment of weakness and all would be made well again.

They ignored it. They would die here, they knew that, and part of them wondered just what might happen when that came.

When the blood, the wounds, the screaming agony of a war that would have annihilated armies inflicted upon one being finally caught up with them.

When the King of Hell died, who would be there to mourn them?

The thought made him smile. A bloody, manic smile that caused their sibling to scream in rage.

"DIE!" Satani screamed into the night air, rain and wind, storm and chaos, ash, and fire, it was all around them and within them and above and below them. Nothing was stable, everything was in flux. Their very presence, the very power they used upon the mortal world was warping it, ruining it, defiling the perfect design of God's workings upon the earth. "DIE, DIE, DIE!"

The Serpentine-Bull had abandoned all pretense of strategy and tactical assessment. Now only rage drove them forward. Their plans had been ruined, their work torn down.

All that was left to them was this one opportunity to murder their King.

Lucifer knew they would succeed in that alone, at the very least.

The blow came when something drew Lucifer's attention.

The demon Kurogiri had evacuated the remaining Heralds. They had heard it, as they heard every noise around them. The death of mortals, the screams of those who were still dying slower and more painfully than others.

They heard it all and ignored it all. They didn't matter. Only Izuku mattered.

And Izuku was free.

Mission accomplished. All that was left was to die well, to make an example that they, Lucifer, would forever be remembered as the true King of Hell.

But there was one noise that rose above the others.

A soft chanting.

A girl's chanting.

Words that came from the temple, where the words and power of Satani's mismatched, chaotic, nonsense ritual still floated in the air, mixing with the howling storm and maddening chaos.

"Oh, brightest one of the darkest night, I lift my eyes up to thee."

They knew those words.

They did not know the voice.

Lucifer attempted to pivot as Satani sliced at him again. The tip of their tail was cut away in a shower of blood as they were a second too slow. A second they would have never wasted if they were their old self.

A second they no longer cared much about.

"Oh, ye amber golden light, let your dark sweep over me."

"Satani!" Lucifer screamed into the face of the monstrous figure of nightmare proportions before them. "Do you hear that?"

"DIE!" The maddened Fallen was fixated now, utterly focused on their one goal.

Maybe this was another symptom of their slow decline. Their lack of focus on the battle before them.

"Mighty one, oh Nidus, I surrender all to thee."

Nidus? Another one of Satani's names, but an old one. The oldest perhaps, other than Satani itself. Nidus was the changer of fates, the opener of doors, the unleashing of true desires. And the very mention of the truly ancient name caused something to rush through Lucifer's ever-thinking mind.

"What did you teach that girl, sibling?" Lucifer was speaking quietly now, only to themselves. Their wounds were bleeding their strength from them. A dying King who refused to bow, even now, and yet their reality was shifting.

Or was that the reality of the world? It was had to tell.

Everything was… shifting.

Even Satani could now see it, their eyes turning, wide and shocked. For a moment, both siblings locked eyes onto the source of the sudden strangeness.

The power was gathering, swirling like a hurricane slowly moving down, almost ready to touch the floor and take true shape into the world.

And it was doing so over a tiny figure in ruined, muddy, ash-covered robes. A figure with blood pouring from a shattered nose and bloody lips. A figure with golden hair and skin as pale as death. A figure standing where Tomura had been only moments before.

A girl.

And she was holding Satani's rib.

Lucifer's eyes widened as something dawned on them. The power in the air, the deaths around them, the rib.

She couldn't…

The girl grinned at them. Even with their true forms revealed, flickering in and out of reality itself, maddening and impossible to look upon.

She looked at them.

And grinned.

"Hellbound nothingness, where nothing is left."

And she plunged the rib-like a knife into her heart.

The power rushed down.

And then reality tore itself apart.

A scream like nothing Lucifer had ever heard before ripped the world asunder. The very earth split and cracked. The very sky broke apart into pieces. Whiteness, the whiteness of the void behind the real flooded into every corner of reality, blanketing all in its tidal force.

Nothing escaped the light. The burning, horrible, pure light that was the maker and unmaker of all things.

Where the girl had been was a sun. A newly birthed sun that was exploding on the face of the world, evaporating everything around it. The wall of light rushed out and over and across all.

Reality simply… broke.

And then everything froze.

The many demons froze. The remaining humans froze. The fire, the air, the storm, the madness.

It all froze.

Only themselves and Satani remained, and their sibling had reacted... strangely. They fell suddenly to their knees, gripping at their chest and crying out in a strange pain. Lucifer could only smile, he had already experienced that ache long ago. It seemed fitting that it would come as a shock to their debased sibling. They looked up to the sky as they awaited what was now to inevitably come next.

Into their silence came the beating of mighty wings.

Figures began emerging.

They were silhouettes at first, coming from every angle, every un-shadow, every corner. Faceless and genderless and beautiful, they stepped down as if descending stairs. Their soft, flickering outlines approached every corpse and began lifting them up.

But this wasn't what Lucifer was paying attention to.

They were paying attention to the figure that was approaching them.

For their twin had arrived.

And through bloody, broken teeth they gave a slow, understanding smile and spoke a single sentence. "Hello, Gabriel."


HECK YEAH THAT HAPPENED. It was a REALLY busy chapter so I hope that everything worked in concert properly. I really wanted to make sure that it all flowed and I hope I achieved that?

But obviously the talking points are gonna be HIMIKO FINISHED THE RITUAL! So is she dead? Is she reborn? Who knows! Also, GABRIAL IS HERE. The Pretorian of Heaven, the Commander of the Hosts, The Primus Inter Pares of the Archangels... and Lucficer's twin. You know shit has seriously gone south when TIME ITSELF needs to be stopped and Gabriel is called in to fix shit.

But hey, you guys wanted some more Archangels so... HERE HE IS! Also, if anyone didn't expect me to make Fatgum an angel than you've not been reading the manga because Fatgum is a legit angel in canon.

ANYWAY. Hope you all had a bunch of fun reading and next chapter we get into a little chat between siblings, the aftermatch of Kamino, and the moving forward of events. Until then, keep safe, keep healthy, and know that I truly appreciate you all for your support! Peace out!