Challenger

by Notsae

A deal with the devil, a power from beyond. Handed incredible power and given a command to use it, Izuku vows to surpass even All Might... even if his power corrupts the people around him, and fills his mind with blood and pain.

Intro AN: I got really inspired out of nowhere and decided to just write what was in my head rather than trying to force my mind onto a different path. As such, this fic was heavily inspired by Tamzar's delightful fic "Duelist," taking much of the base concept and moving it to another setting, with some tweaks for taste; if you like this story, you should try that one. Expect lots and lots of death and suffering, and also lewds. This is a small-scale crossover at first that may escalate into a more full blown one later on, and contains a number of small and large AU elements. I can be talked into further crossovers and ocs to flesh out the world.

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FAILURE

Hint: When faced with an overwhelming challenge, consider going after more attainable targets first.

I blinked into awareness, a faint feeling of lingering pain in my head and my vision blurred. I struggled to rise from my bed, blearily looking around and spotting an unfamiliar, neatly folded note on my desk. Limbs still heavy with sleep barely managed to pick up the letter without dropping or tearing it, but ultimately managed to get it open without harm. The moment I opened it and saw what was written in plain text across the thin paper card, it slipped through my limp fingers and fluttered to the floor.

Three favours, we will contact you.

-C

My thoughts were hazy, my memory swirling and blending like watercolor in a windstorm as I tried to get a grip on what was happening, what this meant. I tried to think about what I'd done yesterday, how this message came to be here and what it meant. All I could remember at first was vague feelings, a series of disconnected emotional reactions without the triggers for them. The first and most pressing was despair, a crushing, all consuming feeling of hopelessness, misery, and futility that only faded when a strangely dark fire of determination took its place later on.

Slowly, jagged, sandblasted fragments of what went on yesterday faded back into my mind. I… I had met All Might in the flesh! He'd saved my life and… and we… ended up on a roof somehow? I was missing chunks of the event, large pieces of blank or indecipherable memories corrupting the past day. I remembered the number one hero turning into some sort of skeleton monster… then telling me to give up on my dreams.

The same crushing wave of despair I felt in the moment swept over me again, almost washing away the memories I was trying to piece together. I shook my head rapidly, brushing stray tears away as I tried to focus on what happened after. I got a vague impression of explosions and slime that I felt had something to do with Kacchan, but I wasn't quite sure. It was hard to dig out the details of anything around the moment All Might murdered my dreams, the ugly feeling of suffocating hopelessness that radiated from the crystal clear moment my world shattered burned away lesser events before and after.

The only scraps of memory that stood out, aside from scattered explosions and the lingering sensation of drowning, was a distinct memory of catching a flash of light out of the corner of my eye on the way home. The light drew my gaze to a fedora-clad woman… or it might have been a man? Their face and features blurred together and twisted in on themselves in my mind like different flavors of smoke competing for the same spot. The only thing I was certain of was that they were wearing a dark suit, and they made me an offer… They told me they could give me the tools to change my fate, at a price.

My memories of the whole exchange were hazy, the details falling through my thoughts like sand in a sieve, but I knew myself well enough to know I wouldn't have just accepted such a sketchy offer. I questioned what they meant by it, and the feelings their response lit up in me remained even after the exact words slipped away; elation, skepticism, and the sort of nihilistic determination only those with shattered dreams could know.

The wording was lost, but I remembered what they offered me; a power -and for some reason my addled mind fixated on the fact they never used the term quirk- in exchange for a promise to use it and three indeterminate favours to be called in at their discretion. I could remember what I was feeling in that moment, staring at an outstretched hand holding a vial of dark fluid that very well could have been poison; apathy, shot through with the sort of reckless hope that sends cancer victims to mountain temples chasing rumours and lies.

I, quite frankly, hadn't cared if they were lying. Either their offer was legitimate and my life might have purpose, or they would spare me the trouble of finding a high enough building to swan dive off of to ensure a painless death. At that point, I simply didn't care if I would wake up in chains or just not wake up at all.

I knew it was a deal with the devil, that even if they weren't lying outright, their price would be steeper than I could foresee. I knew there must have been barbs in the sweet fruit they offered, and yet… How could I possibly say no?

I accepted their offer, casting reason to the wind in one last desperate grasp for hope. I downed the vial in one go, felt a burning sensation spread from my throat to my mind to everywhere before… everything went black. My memories stopped there. I could only guess I had passed out and… my mysterious benefactor had somehow moved me to my room, and tucked me into my bed.

That had… many disturbing implications, but none of them took precedence over the simple question that burned through my thoughts: did it work?

I didn't feel any different, and a quick inspection didn't show any changes to my body. Adrenaline and watery, fading hope drove the tingly sleep from my limbs, sending me sprinting to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Excitement and fear guided my hand as I threw the door open…

And came face to face with my mother stepping out of the shower.

My emotions swirled rapidly, oscillating between different extremes so fast my mind struggled to follow; wires crossed, gears locked, and I froze in place. The first thought that bubbled up out of my murky subconscious to reach my conscious mind was shot through with surprise and embarrassment, I hadn't heard the shower running in my excited desperation. The second thought was a tiny, shameful feeling of lust that I quickly suppressed; she may have gotten out of shape since dad left for America, but Inko Midoriya was still a more than moderately attractive woman standing naked in front of me.

Teenage hormones don't discriminate by ethical or genetically sound lines, boobs are boobs no matter who they're attached to.

Of course, the feeling that ripped through my mind like a tidal wave and swept aside both shame and embarrassment, was relief. Floating semi-transparently between me and her, was a two dimensional image of a padlock. The moment I focused on it, a little animation of the lock being jiggled and failing to open played, and a green box filled with bold text appeared below it.

TUTORIAL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 1/6

CHALLENGE?

Before I could do more than contemplate what that meant, mom let out a gasp and quickly moved to cover herself with a nearby towel. For a split second I thought she was reacting to the same thing I was, but then I saw her eyes seemed to look right through the hovering lock. "Izuku! What are you doing in here!"

I quickly averted my eyes, keenly noting that the display before my mom seemed to melt sideways into green scan lines and fade away the moment I wasn't looking at it. I caught a quick glimpse of myself in the mirror before noticing it also showed mom and looking away, quickly noting that my face didn't seem visibly altered before I did. "Sorry mom! I didn't hear the shower!" I threw out a hasty -if honest- excuse and quickly ran out the door, slamming it behind me and sprinting back to my room.

I didn't go far in, leaning back against the door and taking several deep breaths. My eyes roamed the assorted All Might paraphernalia unseeing save for noting the lack of locks and messages, thoughts writhing with what I had seen; mostly what that lock and text might mean, though the body behind it did flicker into my thoughts, prompting a grit-toothed dismissals each time. While I wasn't certain what my new quir- power did exactly, I knew there was a clear path to finding out.

I rushed to my window, looking out to the sidewalk and hoping to see something else with a lock. My eyes lit up when a jogger with a forest of uneven horns on their head ran by, a smile stretching across my face as I leaned forward… only to fade as I noticed the lock was greyed out, horizontal scan lines running down it. The lock didn't budge when I looked at it, the only response being a grey sheen passing from the top left to the bottom right each time I tried to get a reaction.

I frowned, considering what that meant for a moment before it came to me in a rush. "It's… it's like a game! I have to beat the tutorial before I can unlock the full world," I mused aloud, turning away from the window. A part of me itched to dig out a fresh notebook and write down my thoughts on my power already, but I simply didn't have enough information for the effort to even be worth it; I needed to experiment, see what my power actually does before I can start extrapolating on how to best use it.

The only experiment I could perform in my room while the tutorial was still active was to see just how much like a game my powers were. I needed to know if I had stats, an inventory, if I could pause, if I could save, any of the normal things game characters have and even some of the rarer or more genre specific things. None of my experiments bore any results, though whether that was because I just didn't have them or because I hadn't completed the tutorial, I didn't know.

This time I couldn't resist my basal urges, and my twitching hands flew through well worn desk drawers to find an unused notebook and a sharp pencil. I barely spared the grinning face of All Might on the cover a glance before I hastily scrawled "Hero Analysis For The Future #14" across his teeth and threw the book open. I wrote down everything I knew so far, and tried to speculate as much as seemed reasonable.

I didn't have much to write. Even extrapolating as much as I could, I got less than half a page of solid knowledge and ideas from what I'd seen so far. I knew the obvious answer to this problem, the only thing holding me back was not knowing what to actually expect and not wanting to confront mom too soon after barging in on her like that. I shook my head, standing up and closing my barely touched notebook; great heroes don't hesitate to throw themselves into life threatening danger, I can't hope to stand amongst them if I balk in the face of mild discomfort.

I took the time to actually get dressed properly before I left, even if I didn't have anywhere pressing to be with school out. Partially, this was a genuine effort to put on a comfortable outfit to face the day in, but I could admit to myself that part of why I took so long was a simple desire to delay the inevitable awkwardness to come. As I changed, my mind slipped to more genuinely concerning thoughts; I hadn't even thought about it in my earlier excitement, but I was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday when I woke up. Frankly, that was a somewhat comforting thought; it would have been much worse to question why this mysterious "C" had stripped me down and changed me, after all.

I sighed, glancing around my room to try and clear my head but only growing agitated by the innumerable pieces of All Might merchandise that plastered every surface. That same smile that used to bring comfort seemed twisted somehow, the ringing memory of those same lips twisted into an apathetic frown and delivering a death blow to my dreams hanging heavy behind it. I tore my gaze away before I could do anything rash, rushing out of the room without a backward glance.

I found mom in the kitchen, fully dressed and starting to cook breakfast. She waved in my direction when she heard my footsteps, but didn't turn away from the sizzling pan before her, "Good morning honey, I'm cooking pancakes if you want any!" Evidently she had decided to just pretend the earlier incident didn't happen; I was more than fine with going along with that.

The moment my eyes settled on her back, the same lock as before popped up, displaying the same animation as before and revealing the same words.

TUTORIAL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 1/6

CHALLENGE?

I didn't hesitate this time, attempting to will my power to work. Accept. Yes. Go. Challenge. None of my thoughts got any response, so I repeated the process in a whisper, "Accept. Yes. Go. Challenge." The moment the last word left my lips, the world disappeared in a blur of green fractals and I found myself sitting on my bed, dressed in my pajamas.

I frowned, immediately noticing something was wrong, though it took me a second to understand what exactly it was. It was too quiet; all the normal sounds of birds chirping, cars traveling, and people distantly doing audible things was totally absent. The only sound was the ticking of my All Might brand clock, the beating of my heart, and the sound of running water from downstairs.

The unnatural quiet gnawed at my nerves, and I felt hesitant to break it. I carefully stepped out of my bed and moved to the window, thanking my socks and carpet for quieting my soft footsteps as I approached. I didn't even need to fully reach the transparent pane before I confirmed my suspicions; there was absolutely no one outside, no signs of life whatsoever. I couldn't see a single person, no lights were on in the neighbors houses even though they all had a car in their driveway, no cars drove by, and no one was jogging or walking within visual range.

I worried my lower lip as my gaze flickered across the bizarrely empty landscape, finding no indication of where everyone had gone. "This… this can't be real," I whispered to myself. There's no way my power erased everyone as far as the eye could see without leaving any traces, the lack of crashed vehicles and burning buildings told me that much at least.

I slowly opened my window, wincing at the audible creak the action produced but leaning out to get a better look around the house regardless. It didn't take long to realize my expanded viewing area revealed nothing I didn't already know, just more eerily empty streets and dark houses. I had hoped that maybe I would see something hiding just out of view that could clue me in on what was going on, but I suppose that was wishful thinking.

I pulled my head back into my room, and immediately noticed the sound of running water from below was missing. I barely had a moment to contemplate what that meant before my door flew open behind me. I whirled around, finding mom advancing toward me with a knife in her hand.

I blinked in confused shock, "Mom? What's going on, what are you-" There was something wrong with her eyes, the familiar warmth in them utterly missing and replaced with a cold hatred that burned at my soul to see shining out from her face. I was so distracted by the icy hate pouring from her eyes, I almost didn't notice when she closed to arms reach.

Not until she plunged the blade in her hand into my chest, anyway.

I gasped, blood spraying both around the blade in my sternum and from my mouth. On instinct, my hands grabbed onto mom's shoulders as my legs went weak; this hand hold only made it easier for her as she grasped her knife in both hands and wrenched it down. I felt the knife carve through my abdomen, sliding off my ribs but carving deep into muscles and veins. Searing pain lanced through me as my lacerated organs slipped through the new opening in their home, coming to land on the cold ground around my feet in a rapidly expanding puddle of blood.

Strength fled from my arms, draining away with my blood as I collapsed to the ground at my killer's feet. My vision blurred as I looked up at her, seeing that same, unyieldingly cold hate blazing down at me as she reached to grab me by the hair. I didn't have the strength to even try to resist as she roughly pulled me up, the only thought that slipped through the haze of blood loss and pain being, "...W-why?" My voice was buried in a gurgle of blood, my exposed lungs already partially filled with the viscous fluid.

I got no response, only a cold blade calmly rammed into the side of my neck.

Evidently mom still wasn't satisfied with how quickly I was bleeding to death, given she spent the last few moments before my vision faded to darkness pushing me head first out the window, though I never felt myself hit the ground. The world melted away into a storm of swirling colors that dissolved into the green text of my powers shortly after my vision faded to black, all my pain abruptly vanishing in the same instant.

FAILURE

Hint: Enemies that are UNAWARE will not deviate from their usual routine unless they become aware of your presence. Take the time to prepare yourself and plan your approach, before ambushing enemies when you're ready.

In ALERTED [ALRT] missions the enemy will instantly be made aware of your presence, but not your location. In these missions, remember that the enemy can prepare surprises or hunt you down as well.

I blinked, barely suppressing an audible gasp as the world around the text box faded into reality a moment after I challenged mom. Despite the lack of lingering pain, I felt the need to steady myself on the kitchen counter, taking deep, slow breaths to calm down. "It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It's… it's just like a game… it's okay to die… it's okay… it doesn't matter." I muttered to myself, trying as much to convince myself as to truly understand what was going on.

"Did you say something, honey?" Hearing mom's voice had me snap my head up to look at her, finding no knives descending on me but only a look of mild concern sent my way. She was looking over her shoulder at me, still tampering with the sizzling pancake on her pan rather than smashing me over the head with it. Her eyes were back to normal, warm and caring as always.

I took a deep breath, and released it with a smile. "Nah, I was just thinking aloud." A small part of me wanted to tell her what I was doing, but I didn't want to have to explain how I had suddenly developed a quirk out of nowhere. I wasn't sure she would believe I was a late bloomer this late, and even if she did I'd have to actually explain my powers without sounding like I'd just gone insane. Seemingly fantasizing about being brutally murdered by your mother does not sound like a sign of good mental health, even to me.

Instead, I quietly sat down at the dinner table, my eyes locked on the timer that had appeared over mom's now unmoving lock. It wasn't a long timer, only thirty minutes. I settled back into my chair, leaning back but keeping my eyes on mom's timer as I thought.

That whole scenario had to be some sort of mental simulation my power was running, given mom didn't seem to notice and none of my wounds persisted. That could be all this… artificial quirk? …does, and by itself that could be very useful, but I don't know what happens when I win yet. Even just by itself, the ability to accurately simulate a fight against someone prior to having to actually fight them could be extremely useful; Sir Nighteye had made a career as a hero with an arguably less useful quirk, just through training his body and mind to be able to use the information he gained.

Even if winning the challenge doesn't give me anything, I could be a hero with this alone; the timer would complicate that somewhat, as immediately doing several simulations would be more effective for planning, but I could work with this. That same timer, combined with the levels displayed, implied to me that there was something more here however, something to be gained from winning.

One slightly awkward but very tasty American style breakfast -something mom started making when she learned where dad was headed and developed a taste for- later, and the timer finally ticked down to zero. I didn't hesitate, I needed to know what happens when I win. "Challenge."

The world dissolves into green fractals once again, and I once more find myself sitting on my bed in my pajamas. This time I didn't move for a few minutes, merely contemplating the nature of this challenge. As much as I didn't want to jump to killing my mother in cold blood, the nature of the challenge was made fairly clear to me last time; while it isn't impossible the murderous version of my mom was simply there to guard something, I'm more inclined to think the challenge is as straightforward as it seems.

I stood quietly from my bed, socked feet silent on my carpeted floor. Slow, careful steps carried me over to my closet, which slid open without a sound. I reached in, quietly shifting some clothes to the side and withdrawing a child sized baseball bat I hadn't used in years. It wasn't a great weapon, short, light, and poorly maintained, but ultimately better than nothing.

Weapon in hand and water still flowing downstairs, I took my time working my way down; while I'm fairly confident in my ability to beat my mom in a straight fight (and wasn't that an interesting thought to have), it still wouldn't do to lose the element of surprise unnecessarily. There's no need to make this any harder than it has to be, what I'm about to do is already weighing heavily enough on my mind.

I managed to make it down the stairs without alerting mom, padding quietly as I could around the house until I found her washing dishes in the kitchen. She had her back to me, seemingly paying no attention to her surroundings. Seemingly, but I knew better.

There were several knives within arms reach of her, some already cleaned and some in the dirty pile. That would complicate things if my first strike wasn't definitive enough, but I had been straining my ears to hear if the water stopped every step of the way; I was halfway expecting a knife fight from the very start, I would be pleasantly surprised if I managed to avoid one rather than disappointed if I didn't.

I crept up behind her as quietly as I could, but about five feet from reaching her she must have heard something because she shut off the water and whirled around. I didn't give her a moment to react, sprinting forward and swinging my undersized bat as hard as I could before she even started reaching for a blade.

My wooden weapon slammed into the side of her head just as her fingers closed around the hilt of a blade, the impact ringing out with a meaty thud and a dull crack. She stumbled to the side, stunned fingers failing to grasp a knife as blood flowed down her face; she swayed unsteadily on her feet, stumbling back but not quite falling over by catching herself on the sink. I drew my bat back, clenching my teeth to not throw up from the sight before me but swinging again with all my might nonetheless; I aimed for the same spot, wanting to make this as quick as possible.

The solid sports tool collided with her already damaged skull once more, this time shattering the bone and crushing the weak brain matter that sheltered behind it. The blow pulverized a good quarter of her brain and sent jagged fragments of her shattered skull shooting through the rest. Even as I pulled back to swing again, reality dissolved into green shards.

SUCCESS

Reward: Small Object Attraction (1)

I let out a relieved breath, struggling to hold down my breakfast as I faded back into reality; the feeling of mom's skull caving in under my swing lingered in my mind, even as the faint tingling from the shock traveling up the bat disappeared. More welcome but no less unfamiliar was the feeling of something settling in at the back of my mind, like a crystal block waiting to be slotted into a grand temple but currently sitting alone. I wasn't certain where that imagery came from, but for some reason it just… felt right.

I clenched and unclenched my fists a few times, trying not to show any of my thoughts on my face as reality reasserted itself and I found myself once more face to face with the mother I just murdered. I smiled at her, relieved to see her okay and confirm my darkest fears were for nothing. "I love you mom," I said, drawing a smile from her even if she didn't know what prompted the words.

"I love you too, Izuku." My eyes slid from her smile to the lock in front of her, seeing it click once more and offer a slightly different text box.

TUTORIAL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 2/6

[TIME]

I grinned at the lock, wanting to test if that reward notification meant what it seemed like it meant; if that message meant what I thought it did, if I had really gained what it felt like I had, then my life was about to change dramatically. That [TIME] warning didn't sound promising for allowing extensive experiments, but it wouldn't take long to confirm my suspicions one way or the other.

I calmly met my mother's curious eyes, smiling back at her and whispering, "Challenge," under my breath. Once more the world dissolved into fractals and I found myself back in my room, once more dressed in All Might themed pajamas. I was briefly annoyed at that, though not much more so than I was at seeing the man's face in every direction; having the man shatter my dreams made me suddenly much less appreciative of his presence, strangely enough.

I didn't see a visible timer, but I wasn't overly concerned; I spared a glance for the clock to spot the time, but otherwise immediately focused on the feeling in the back of my mind. I felt the crystal block slide into place easily, but I didn't feel particularly different after I did; I wasn't discouraged, I knew how my mother's quirk worked well enough to not expect an immediate change.

I cast my gaze around the room, looking for something within mom's typical weight limit and settling on one of the many grinning action figures sitting neatly on my desk. I reached out to the symbol of plastic hope, willing my newly gained power to reach out for it.

At first nothing happened and I felt my fragile hope crack, before an enormous smile tore its way across my face as the figurine suddenly toppled over and slid across my desk in my direction. It didn't go far, barely sliding enough to teeter on the edge of the desk for a moment before falling to the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

I barely withheld the peels of joyous laughter that threatened to bubble out of my throat, only the burning memory of a creaky window getting me disemboweled keeping the cachinations down. It was weak, weaker even than mom's actual quirk even, but the very fact that I had it meant everything. I can copy quirks.

That's the kind of power that can take you to the top, the kind of power number one heroes are made of.

The fact I had more challenges for mom told me I could probably strengthen this new quirk, and I'd need to do more experiments to see what exactly I can do with even this first stage, but I couldn't help but be distracted by the sound of sirens in the distance. I finally stood from my bed, rushing to the window and visually confirming what my ears were telling me; there were at least a dozen police cars pulling into the driveway and starting to fill up the streets.

I threw a glance over my shoulder at the clock, noting it had apparently been just slightly over five minutes since I started; that's a lot faster than the police response time around here, so I couldn't chalk it up to mom actually calling the cops unless she did so before the simulation started. Well, I suppose that answers what the [TIME] restriction does; not a countdown to outright failure, but a limit before what seems to be continual reinforcements arrive. Not the worst case scenario then, probably one of the better ones really; I doubted I had to actually beat any of these cops, so long as I could kill my target before they kill me.

Easier said than done, of course.

That thought in mind, I tore my gaze away from the window just as officers started pouring out of their cars with their guns already in hand; somehow, I doubted they had any intention of taking prisoners. I rushed to the closet, not bothering with stealth as I threw it open and wrenched my bat free. I made it halfway down the stairs -almost slipping on my socks from the speed I was taking them- when I heard the building's front door get blown off its hinges in the distance.

I grit my teeth, jumping the last six steps and crashing into the wall for my trouble. I didn't know if the cops knew exactly where I was, but I knew they only had a few floors before they'd reach our apartment; I didn't have much time either way. I sprinted down the hall, grabbing the corner to swing myself around without losing much momentum…

And slamming face first into mom, bowling both of us over in a tangle of flailing limbs. I lost my grip on the bat as my head slammed into mom's, but by the dull impacts I felt against my side she'd evidently lost her grip on whatever blade she'd undoubtedly picked up, as well. Neither of us was in anything approaching what could be called a proper grapple, but mom was already trying her hardest to hold me in place with her legs while throwing punches with her left hand.

Still slightly dazed, I almost didn't realize why she wasn't punching with her right hand in time to stop her from stabbing me; as it was, I barely managed to turn a kidney seeking stab into an uneven cut down my arm before I seized her wrist. With a growl, I slammed her hand into the ground over and over until she let go of the knife, punching her in the face with my other hand as I did; if she got her wits about her, she might remember her quirk and regain her weapon, I couldn't allow that.

Dazed and bleeding, she gave up punching with her off hand, instead starting to claw at me with her nails as much as she could. I yelled in pain as her fingernails found purchase in my skin, slamming my fist into her face with enough force to crush her nose just as the door to the apartment blew open with a cry of "Police!"

I clenched my jaw, glancing at the fallen knife and dismissing my more distant bat; even if it was in reach, I needed something with greater lethality per ounce of force anyway. I threw a quick jab into moms face before releasing her wrist and reaching out to the dropped blade with my newly earned power. The knife jerked, lurching in my direction and sliding across the floor a scant few inches in my direction.

I wasn't surprised, mom's quirk was weak before I got a lesser version of it; fortunately, I didn't need the knife to move more than it did. Another punch to the head kept mom's struggles weak and unfocused as I leaned over and grabbed the blade. I didn't waste a moment, the sound of rapidly approaching heavy footsteps pounding in my ears as I turned the knife on my mother in a wild frenzy of stabs.

I learned then that it can take an awfully long time to actually kill someone with a knife, at least when you're half-panicking, suffering from a mild head wound, and operating on quarter remembered biology lessons to know where vitals are under stress. I stabbed wildly, not even bothering to truly aim at first, only to inflict wounds that bleed and disable; I didn't know enough about the body to do more than loosely aim for where I thought vitals were, wild stabs serving to slow her resistance.

The door behind me flew open, slamming into the wall the same time a sunglass and mustache wearing police officer lined his pistol up with my back. Mom had stopped fighting back at this point, merely weakly gurgling blood and glaring hateful up at me; I must have hit her lungs several times, but evidently I hadn't gotten her heart. I didn't bother turning to look at the cop behind me, instead taking my blade in both hands and plunging it down into one of mom's blazing eyes.

The first bullet hit me just before my blade bit in, carving a trench in one of my ribs and ripping a tunnel through one of my lungs before coming out my chest in a spray of blood. The shock and pain threw off my aim, but only enough that the tip of my blade hit the inner edge of her eye socket instead of dead center. The second shot hit me as my blade entered mom's brain, the cold blade drawing body wide spasms as neurons were suddenly disrupted; the bullet impacted a few inches below my heart, carving through undoubtedly important veins but just missing my lungs and kidney.

The third round hit me in the upper left side of my head just as reality began to dissolve, giving me the interesting perspective of seeing my brain matter fly out before me and shatter into green light before it hit the ground.

SUCCESS

Reward: Inko Midoriya +

I blinked off the strange feeling of losing a chunk of brain matter, the actual pain having vanished but the memory of the unsettling sensation of suddenly being massively less mentally capable lingered. Once more the world faded back into existence around the text box in front of me, though this time I didn't feel any different.

It didn't take me long to figure out what had changed once I dismissed the success notification, however.

Mom was visibly healthier than before, some of the lines on her face having lightened or even disappeared. More obviously, however, was the change in her weight; she had slimmed down significantly, and it seemed her weight had been shifted around where it hadn't been outright deleted. Where before she was teetering on the edge of morbid obesity, now she was merely on the larger end of chubby.

I blinked, looking her over to try and get a better idea of what exactly had changed. This wasn't quite as personally useful as copying quirks, but being able to make people healthier was certainly a useful power to have, definitely very heroic. For fighting villains this could actually be something of a drawback, but hopefully gaining their powers and learning how to beat then in simulated combat will make up for it.

I only then realized I had been essentially ogling my mom right in front of her and snapped my eyes up, finding her own glittering over a smile. Strangely, rather than embarrassed or angry, she looked amused by my wandering eyes. I covered up a nervous gulp by slamming down half my glass of orange juice, ignoring the faintly pleased glint in mom's eyes.

My embarrassed instinct to look away drew my attention to something on the wall, a picture of me and mom from a vacation a year ago. That was well after mom started putting on weight, yet the picture I saw clearly showed her looking about as good as she suddenly did now. In fact, I hadn't noticed when I was looking her over but it didn't seem like she'd noticed anything had changed at all, and her clothes still fit. Is this… did my power retroactively alter history to fit with the changes it made to mom? That's… that's incredible, the implications of it being able to do that are staggering.

The thought that it might "merely" be physically altering current evidence and people's memories didn't make it that much less impressive; given I can't tell the difference with any test I can think of, both are effective. Though, to be honest I was rooting for the former, I can't deny it would be cooler.

A tittering giggle drew my gaze back to mom, finding her staring at me over her own glass of OJ. Putting the strange twist to the warm smile that spread across her face as she put her drink down out of my mind, I looked at her next challenge.

TUTORIEL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 3/6

[GANG]

That… didn't sound good. Having studied hero combat footage religiously, I knew exactly how big an advantage numbers granted you. Nonetheless, I needed to see what the modifier meant, what I'd earn for a third win, and, most importantly, I needed to make progress towards finishing the tutoriel. The sooner I can get to challenging people freely, the sooner I can acquire the kinds of combat experience and quirks that can make me the most versatile and powerful hero in history.

I clenched my fist, determination burning in my heart; with this power I won't just surpass All Might, I'll make him a distant memory compared to my glory.

Technically I won't be proving him "wrong," as I think gaining powers artificially does go somewhat outside the spirit of my actual question. Regardless, it would feel good to show him that I can be a hero, a better one than even him! Even if I had to metaphorically sell my soul to become one!

…Thinking that statement through, it didn't sound very heroic at all, actually.

Dismissing the uncomfortable reality of my situation with long experience, I instead focused back on mom and her new challenge. I smiled back at her, putting aside the way her eyes slightly widened when I did and simply charging ahead, "Challenge." The world once more dissolved, leaving me once more sitting on my bed; though, I noted I was wearing the same outfit as I was wearing in real life this time.

I wasn't sure what that meant, if anything. It could just as easily be a normal part of the mission as it could be a response to my desire not to wear All Might merch anymore. The latter would mean my powers have some ability to respond to my will, which does seem to be not too uncommon from my admittedly limited understanding of more complex quirks (if this even qualifies as such), but I didn't have enough data to really know for sure.

I put the thought aside for later, noting I didn't hear water running downstairs as I quickly but quietly retrieved my now familiar bat. Given I was fairly certain I hadn't made any more noise than before, I presumed this change was something to do with the present modifier. Instead, after I retrieved my bat and left my room, the very first sound to reach me at the top of the stairs was indistinct, happy chattering from multiple middle aged women and the blaring of some unfamiliar movie.

I quietly rested my bat on my shoulder as I thought, considering the challenge before me. By the sound of it, there were roughly six women downstairs, probably all around mom's age; I recognised two of the voices as mom's and Mitsuki's, but the rest were unfamiliar. I guessed they may have been work friends of mom, but it ultimately didn't matter; unless any of them happened to have noteworthy quirks, only the raw numbers really mattered here.

At least that made it pretty clear what the [GANG] modifier does; it gives the target backup, probably with the addons flavoured around the target's real life associations. I didn't have enough data to be certain yet, but I presumed that if I targeted a cop they'd have police back up while a mobster would have criminal backup. A fairly straightforward modifier, though certainly not any easier for it.

I wound up sitting down on the top step of the stairs, leaning my bat against the wall and simply thinking over the situation in front of me. If I had a combat oriented quirk, a strong emitter or brute strength mutation perhaps, this wouldn't be so much of a problem; a proper weapon could also tip the scales my way, a half decent gun or even a sword. As is, I had a child sized wooden bat and a quirk that can exert maybe a single kilo of force in my direction.

I needed something to tip the scales, something that could render their numbers either meaningless or outright disadvantageous. I eyed the doorways around me, considering the angles of each for how they'd fair as choke points before marking that idea down as a last resort. I could try starting a fire, or maybe mixing random chemicals until I made something deadly, but given the living room they were sitting in had a clear sight line on the door they'd probably just run out rather than stay and die…

Then again, I don't actually know if these simulated people even have a proper fear response, or if they'd just immediately move to investigate. Even if they did flee from danger, most people don't know how to recognize deadly gas by sight or smell alone; the few seconds (or minutes if I'm lucky) before they realize what's going on could be enough to kill or weaken them. If they lacked realistic responses and instead got aggroed by the gas, that would just make setting up a trap for them that much easier.

Unfortunately, I didn't actually know what chemicals to mix for optimal results.

I sighed quietly, sending a glance over at the upstairs bathroom before carefully standing up and heading back into my room. I moved my way quietly to my computer, booting it up with a nervous glance at my used door; I might not know what chemicals can produce something useful, but one quick search for which ones to never mix could tell me.

I frowned at the running dinosaur apologetically telling me the internet wasn't working, checking my phone and finding the results the same. I didn't know whether that was universal to all simulations or modifier (or even individual scenario) dependent, but I'd have to leave reliable gas and bombs for another time either way. I'd definitely be doing some research later, but for now my problem remained the same.

I could try to sabotage the gas line, but I had no idea where to even begin finding or breaking open the right pipes to achieve that and I knew I couldn't do it quietly enough to not aggro everyone. At best, I'd manage to damage the right pipes and wind out passing out from the fumes before the horde closing in tore me apart, at worst they'd catch me trying to break the pipes and I'd get to experience how a crowd goes about murdering an individual fully conscious. I leaned back in my chair with a quiet sigh, staring up at the ceiling and vaguely listening in to the just barely audible voices from below for a long moment.

I knew I was delaying, but to be fair, I knew the most likely outcome of whatever I did next was an agonizing death. Even so, I steeled my resolve and stood up; heroes don't have time to hesitate.

I settled for simply trying to get as much information as I could while trying my best to succeed. I wasn't quite ready to run in blindly just to learn their positions and die horribly for it without at least trying to get some sort of advantage first. I settled on preparing something of an ambush, or at least trying to see if the concept was sound; I didn't know exactly what chemicals mixed together would make a deadly combination, but I did know that if I splashed chemicals all over and set the place on fire, I would definitely produce unpleasant smoke and even less pleasant fire.

Before I started splashing chemicals around, I needed to pick a location to do it. My first thought was to try and plug up the vents in the bathroom, make some noise in there, hide a room over, then barricade the door behind them once mom and her friends (or just mom if I was that lucky) went in to investigate. However, I ultimately decided that plan had too many places to go wrong and relied too heavily on information I don't actually know for sure. Instead, I quietly placed every vaguely dangerous or generally unpleasant chemical I could find at the top of the stairs alongside a few rolls of toilet paper and paper towels, then went to look for a lighter.

Fortunately, mom had a thing for candles and kept a lighter in her room. It took me probably far longer than it reasonably should have to sneak in, slide open her nightstand drawer, and dig through the various bits of jewelry and random crap to find the campfire lighter, but I felt confident it would be better to take a few extra minutes than to rush, make noise, and screw up the whole plan.

Said plan was fairly simple, all things considered. One by one, I poured the various jugs and jars of chemicals down the stairs, making sure to splash them around and mix them together as best I could. I didn't bother trying to hide the noise, and by the time the first curious guest showed up several different chemicals had started to sizzle and smoke in a variety of ways. The moment the first woman -a mousy brunette I didn't recognize at all- laid eyes on me, she pointed and yelled before starting to resolutely power walk in my direction.

She didn't get far before she started to cough, walking right into the small but growing green haze pouring down the stairs from a number of spots and clearly suffering for it; I'd have to figure out which chemicals caused that response, for future reference. As I watched her cough and cry more and more, I was glad that green gas seemed to be heavier than air; it would have been decidedly less than optimal to learn it wasn't the hard way. Admirably, or perhaps stupidly, the already choking woman merely pulled her shirt collar up around her face and continued trying to get up the stairs. Perhaps she'd have retreated if she knew the danger she was in, or if I was visibly armed, but instead she put one foot on the first step and promptly face planted into the stairs.

I withheld a wince as the sound of breaking teeth reached me, reminding myself that this wasn't real; I don't think I'd have had the stomach to do what I was about to do if I didn't remind myself of that fact.

The other women didn't take long to come around the corner and see what was going on. Mom was somewhere in the middle of the pack, while Mitsuki was already braving the stairs by the time she showed up. I noticed a small but noteworthy change the moment mom laid eyes on me, seeing a subtle change instantly overtake the npcs around her; where before several of them lurked in the doorway or made only tentative attempts to get up the stairs, once mom spotted me their hesitation faded significantly and they began to operate with open hostility in there movements.

I watched them calmly, waiting for them to slowly drag themselves up the stairs far enough; some of them crawled on their hands and knees while others tried to use the handrail to pull themselves up, but all of them got soaked in a variety of unidentified chemicals. I let one of them get their long nailed fingers wrapped around the penultimate step before I moved, making sure mom herself was too far in to make it out. The moment I reached behind myself and pulled the lighter out of my waistband, I could see panic enter the gathered women's eyes; some tried to speed up in the hopes they could reach me, a few tried to turn and run, but none of them were nearly fast enough.

I didn't know which, if any, of the many mixed together chemicals before me were flammable. That made this whole plan something of a gamble, but I had my bat in easy reach just out of sight for that reason. Fortunately, I didn't wind up needing it.

I grabbed one of the paper towel rolls, lit a corner on fire, and tossed it straight at mom. Even before the flame wreathed tube bounced off her face and physically touched the waterfall of colourful fluids around her some of the gasses being produced ignited; though notably not the toxic green gas, I mentally noted that down for help in identifying the gas later. The fire spread rapidly, racing down the stairs and up the chemical soaked clothes, hair, and skin of the women on them.

Burning to death is not a fast process, not by a long shot.

Fortunately, it's also a very distracting and debilitating process for the ones doing the burning. While most of them still seemed to be generally trying to move in my direction, once the flames started crawling up their skin and blackening their flesh they quickly lost all semblance of a coherent plan. The woman already near the top of the stairs made a valiant effort to lunge the last few feet, but a kick to the face sent her tumbling back down. She fell badly, burning hair trailing behind her as she bowled her companions over, sending the whole group bouncing down the stairs to land in a pile of tangled and likely broken limbs.

I pulled my shirt up over my mouth and nose to ward off the undoubtedly toxic smoke while I watched the writhing pile of chemical soaked women burn; the smoke clawed at my eyes and lungs, but the non-flammable green gas seemed to help weigh it down somewhat. It was a surreal experience standing there, everything about it clashed heavily with every instinct I had; my body screamed at me to run forward, to save the burning woman in front of me, but I held myself back with great effort. The worst part, worse than watching flesh peel back and boiling fat flow like thin wax from ruptured flesh, worse than the stinging gas and smoke, was the screams.

Tears flowed down my face in rivers, from the irritants in the air yes, but mostly from the almost inhuman roars of hate and pain that tore their way out of each woman; the horrendous screeching ripping out of my mother's melting throat hammering my mind most of all. I didn't know a human being could make sounds like that, I didn't want to know that a human could make sounds like that. Paralyzed by the clash of horror and determination tearing at my mind, I simply stood atop the stairs and watched them burn until the flames began to lick at my shoes.

In retrospect, I probably should have planned an escape route beforehand; were this a real situation, that lack of planning could very well have cost me my life. Of course, in a real situation I wouldn't be setting half a dozen women on fire and whacking them whenever they tried to get up, so perhaps that complaint wasn't the most relevant. Regardless, I had rather expected this plan to go wrong and wind up with me dying fighting or maybe killing mom quick enough that being caught up in the side effects wouldn't be a concern; looking at the curling tongues of flame crawling up the walls and lapping at the ceiling, I realized this was something of an oversight.

I had inflicted fatal wounds on mom, there's no recovering from losing that much tissue to fire, but none of those wounds were going to kill her before the fire reached me or the smoke choked me unconscious. She would probably still burn to death before I would, but that's no reason to just sit back and let myself burn; from the enthusiastic testimonies reaching my ears, burning to death is the kind of experience I think I'd rather avoid if at all possible.

I twisted on my heel, rushing back down the hall as smoke flooded across the ceiling in a thick swamp and flames danced up the walls. My very first instinctive thought was to head for my room, but I dismissed it and rushed for the master bedroom instead; the stairway is the only way to reach the door, but mom's window connects to the fire escape. The fire hadn't waited for me to gather my wits and it wasn't waiting for me now, carving charred paths along the walls and nipping at my heels as a wall of agonized howls pushed at my back.

I barely managed to get my hands positioned right to throw the bedroom door open rather than slamming straight into it, even then haste and sweat almost had me eating my teeth regardless. The handle was hot, like it had been left in the sun for hours rather than sitting inside all day, but I ignored the slight pain and threw it open regardless. The flames now swirling around me -turning the hall behind me into the mouth of hell complete with the screams of the damned- rushed into the newly opened room almost faster than I did, licking lightly across my flesh on their way.

I didn't bother actually opening the window, instead snagging a discarded sweater from the end of the bed and using mom's quirk to pull a decent sized hairbrush from her dresser. Not wasting a second, I hurled the brush through the window -for once glad that our landlord was too cheap to install more than bare minimum glass as it shattered instantly- and loosely wrapped the sweater around my arm to brush the remaining glass out of the windowsill. The moment the sill was reasonably clear I threw myself out it, hitting the deliberately rough metal grating outside it and rolling twice before I slammed into the outer railing.

The way the structure shuddered under my weight did not inspire confidence in its stability, but at the very least it didn't collapse at that moment.

Staring up at the noon day sun, watching smoke billow out the window above me in a rising pillar to join the clouds on high, I was very tempted to simply lay there… So that's just what I did. Oh, I knew I should have ran further, if this were real I definitely would have climbed down and started running in case the building collapsed, but as it was I knew mom would die before me even if it did.

So long as she died first, it didn't matter if I was falling to my death or not.

My body had plenty of energy, I wasn't hurt beyond a few light burns, yet I just felt exhausted as I lay there. Tears flowed freely down my face, the image of mom's face peeling and blackening under a veil of flame blazing behind my eyelids whenever I blinked, the sound of her screams intermixed with her friends playing over and over in my head.

I realized then that I couldn't actually hear the screams anymore, and I couldn't tell if that was because they had lost the strength to scream or the acoustics of our apartment just wasn't sending them to me. Somehow, their absence was almost as disturbing as their presence. Almost.

I released a sigh of relief as the world began to fragment into green light, wiping my eyes and taking a deep breath as the victory screen lit up before me.

SUCCESS

Reward: Small Object Attraction (2)

I faded back into reality, facing the same mom I'd just burned alive. She immediately shot me a look of concern, "Honey, are you okay? You're crying!"

I blinked, reaching up to wipe my face and realizing she was right. I wasn't surprised, I was crying before so even if my physical state didn't carry over I likely started crying in reality the moment I faded in. "It's nothing… I…" I couldn't explain why I was really crying… but I suppose there was no reason I couldn't tell her some of what's going on. "I met All Might yesterday." My voice hitched as I spoke, the cloying despair of that memory bubbling up to spike the distress I was feeling in the moment. Mom started to smile, a word of congratulations on her lips; I couldn't let her say those words, couldn't handle another blow to the psyche like that, so I cut her off before she could speak, "He… told me to give up on m-my dreams."

Her eyes went wide, the pleased smile forming on her face strangled in the crib. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry." She stood up, almost jumping around the table in her haste to throw her arms around me in a comforting hug; just as emotional as me, if not more so even, mom was already crying right alongside me before her arms closed around me. Images of her burning, of her skull caving in under my bat, of her riddled with stab wounds flowed through my mind and poured out my eyes in a torrent of tears, the warm embrace reminding me that none of it was real.

I wanted to tell her more, tell her about the deal hanging over my head like a sword, about the painful nature of the power that deal bought me. I knew my reasons for not telling her before were still valid, I couldn't tell her about how I really got my powers and I knew that late bloomers this late were… well, I hadn't been able to find any examples when I last searched for them.

However, there were a handful of cases where people with more complicated or unusual quirks didn't figure out how to manifest or utilize them until later in life. There was even one noteworthy case of a middle aged man who had thought he was quirkless all his life, discovering that he just hadn't ever encountered the right circumstances for his quirk to take effect. I wasn't one of those, I had been checked by a doctor and proven to have no quirk factor while most of them grew up before such tests existed and merely assumed they didn't have a quirk because they didn't show signs. Mom was there for every one of those appointments, she was there for every last test, she knew those facts; the odds of her genuinely believing I was merely an extreme outlier to decades of quirk research were exceptionally low.

However, despite that knowledge, I knew my mother; even if she had her doubts, the odds of her betraying me to the police or press or something were approaching zero.

I interrupted mom's blubbering condolences, though a small part of me couldn't help but note she never actually contradicted All Might's claim, "I'm not entirely sure what happened after that… I-I passed out in the despair of that moment… and when I woke up…" I hesitated for a moment before firming my resolve, "I… I awoke my quirk. It… it turns out, I'm not quirkless." I'm not worthless.

Her arms froze around me for a second, before she squeezed me even tighter; I expected questions, both of how that was possible and what my quirk was, but none ever came. Instead, her body shook from the force of her sobs, watery but not accusing words devolving into entirely incoherent noise muffled by my chest. Eventually, she managed to get out a single phrase I could understand, repeating it over and over as my weak attempt to harden my heart melted and my own tears overtook me. "I love you honey."

That was all she said, she never asked how that was possible, never even questioned my story. I knew she didn't believe me, however. The way she stiffened up, that moment of hesitation at my words, I knew that reaction; she heard me, didn't believe me, and decided not to call me out. She had the same reaction when dad said he couldn't make it for the holidays or any birthdays the first few years, before she stopped asking him altogether.

After a long moment of shared weeping, we finally separated slightly from our crushing embrace. I could see a quiet, nervous expectation in her eyes, as if she was already waiting for a proclamation she dreaded… but there was already acceptance there, behind that fear. She already knew what I was going to say -of course she did, I'd made no secret of my dreams- and for once, she accepted it. "I'm going to be a hero," I declared with a certainty that surprised even me.

This was the other reason I had changed my mind on hiding my new quirk; it would be rather difficult to go to hero school and get properly accredited for legal hero work without mom finding out, she had to sign the paperwork after all. The thought of resorting to vigilantism was strangely unconcerning to me, but it would be very difficult to properly surpass All Might with the government gunning for me. Trying to hide my newfound power from her long or even medium term was just not viable, not if I wanted to be a hero.

She bit her lip, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks. "Alright." My eyes widened, even having seen that glimmer of acceptance, I had been expecting more resistance than that. She nodded her head, pulling away until her hands rested lightly on my shoulders, "I'll fill out the forms for your application to UA, and send them out tonight."

She smiled at me, patting my cheek before she pulled fully away and headed for the stairs. As she walked away, my eyes drifted to the lock sitting innocently in the center of my vision. It seemed to shine like gold in my eyes, my bolstered mood from mom's easy support of my decision amplifying its beautiful whispers of promise. This was my path, after so long wandering blind I had finally found the route to reach my dreams; now all I had to do was walk it.

One bloody footprint at a time.

TUTORIAL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 4/6

[WRLD] [REAL] [TIME]

Reading those modifiers nearly stopped me in my tracks. Real? That couldn't possibly mean what my first thought screamed, there's no way my power would suddenly shift from simulations to forcing a real life conflict… especially not when this wasn't even the last challenge. The other components were of little concern 'WRLD' was most likely a shortening of the word "world," which could mean a number of things ranging from an alternate universe to just encompassing the whole world.

With more than a touch of trepidation, I put my hopefully overblown concerns aside and took the next step. "Challenge." Once more, the world faded into maddening light that dissolved back into my room.

This time I knew I was on the clock, and while part of me was tempted to see how far the reinforcements would escalate if I delayed long enough, I wanted to complete the tutorial even more; I only had two months before the UA entrance exam, and every second counted. I all but leapt out of my bed, noting the absence of the sound of running water as I rushed to the closet and retrieved my undersized bat once more.

Quickly but quietly -an operational standard I was becoming increasingly familiar with over the course of the day- I made my way down the stairs… and found myself confronted by a silent, empty home. I blinked in surprise, staring gormlessly around the ground floor for a second before the urgency of the situation overrode my confusion and drove me to move. I all but ransacked the house, tearing through it to try and find mom before the time ticked down. Eventually, after stopping part way through starting to tear out the cupboards on the off chance she hid in one, I settled for collecting a few sharp knives and rushing out the door.

If she wasn't anywhere to be found in the apartment, she must be somewhere else. Simple logic that kept my breathing even as I took the stairs two at a time, heading for the front door; I didn't have time to search the whole building room by room, I'd just have to hope she was outside the building and somewhere nearby.

My eyes swept over the lobby as I sprinted through it, throwing the front door open and rushing out into the street… only to nearly run into the horn headed jogger from earlier. I stumbled back, stuttering out an apology as they sent me a dirty look on their way past. I watched him run off into the distance for longer than I should've, momentarily flabbergasted at coming across something so unexpected as a non-hostile npc.

I shook it off, realizing I still couldn't tell if this was a result of the World or Real modifiers; either one could easily be interpreted such that it justifies this kind of thing. Without enough data to lean towards one over the other, I moved back onto track, whirling around to try and spot any sign of mom or where she could have gone. The only thing I saw was a small number of cars driving with aimless purpose, neighbors going about their business seemingly as normal, and absolutely nothing to indicate where mom might have gone.

I admit, I panicked more than a little bit. I could almost feel each tick of the clock impact the back of my mind as nervous sweat trickled down my neck. The time before things began to rapidly escalate out of control was rapidly ticking away, and I had no idea where to even start looking. I could try checking her work, but the studio was so far away I'd never be able to reach it before the cops ran me down, and even then I didn't even know if that's where she was.

A sense of despair began to settle over me before I crushed it resolutely; failure is only a temporary set back, so long as I make progress, any progress at all, this will have been worth something. The real life time limit weighing down on me made that thought somewhat hollow, but I pushed that out of my mind with a grimace. Mom's work wasn't within walking -or sprinting for that matter- distance, so I ran down the road towards the only two things nearby she might reasonably have gone to; the park, and the Bakugou residence.

Fortunately for me, both of those were in the same direction.

My shoes pounded the concrete, carrying me forth as quickly as they could while the sound of a clock ticking echoed ever louder in my imagination. I practically leapt the last few feet to the Bakugou's front door, trying the knob without hesitation and finding it locked to my mild surprise. I jiggled the handle, slamming my shoulder into the door as I tried to wrench it open.

My struggle was interrupted by an angry shout before the door flew open on its own fast enough it may have dragged me with it if I hadn't let go quick enough. I stumbled back, blinking in surprise at the sight of Mitsuki Bakugou staring at me in annoyed surprise. She raised an eyebrow, "Now what the hell are you doing rattling my door like that, Izuku? I know damn well your mama taught you better manners than that."

My eyes widened in momentary shock before I got my wits about me, non-hostile npcs were one thing but I never would have expected dialog from one! So far, even when burning alive or disemboweling me, no one had said so much as a word to me. Nonetheless, I gathered myself, quickly shifted to hide my bat and knives behind my back, and made up a reasonable excuse on the spot, "I-I'm sorry Aunty Mitsuki, I couldn't get ahold of mom and I wondered if you'd know where she might be?"

She raised her brow slightly further, "And you came here? It's noon on a weekend kiddo, you know she's out jogging. What, did she not bring her phone?"

I nodded, relieved that she made up an excuse for me, "Y-yeah, I tried calling but she left her phone in her room. Ah… W-would you happen to know the route she takes? I really need to talk to her right now, s-so if I knew her route I could just meet her where she will be."

She sighed, reaching to pat me on the head and ruffle my hair as she checked her watch, the gesture hiding the clock face from me. "Hmm, she'll prolly hit the park in about three-ish minutes. You might be able to make it if you… run."

I was already sprinting the moment she gave up a location, the sound of distant sirens already reaching my ears; I had taken too long, but it seemed the cops didn't know exactly where I was. I threw a wave over my shoulder, shouting back at Mitsuki, "Thanks Aunty Mitsuki!" as I ran as fast as I could. I barely caught her shaking her head in fond exasperation as I rounded the corner of the small path between her door and the road, though the gesture did make me ponder just how realistic this simulation really was.

That was probably what the "real" modifier meant, then. While I could see the world modifier including realism, I'd be more inclined to say that one increased the size of the simulated area. I hadn't exactly explored far in previous simulations, but I got the feeling they probably didn't have much beyond what was in visual range.

I shook my head, putting such thoughts aside for later; I needed to focus on how to kill mom in the moment, working out non-actionable details about how my quirk works could wait for reflection afterwards. I reached the park before the distant sirens reached me, but they were decidedly louder than I was comfortable with. Unfortunately, mom wasn't anywhere in sight by the time I arrived.

I scowled, eyes flicking over the place I'd spent my childhood playing… well, mostly just getting tortured by Bakugou, really; we played games sometimes, but all of them eventually devolved into various excuses to use quirks to hurt me. I dismissed those thoughts with the ease of long practice, scanning eyes finding nothing of value as the distinctive sound of approaching police cars got ominously closer by the second.

Okay, decidedly suboptimal for sure but at least I had something of a plan. I tightened my grip on my bat, thankful for the worn leather grip keeping my fingers from slipping on my own nervous sweat. I didn't wait around for the police to catch up to me, rushing towards what I knew from long experience was the best place to hide from homicidal lunatics with a firepower advantage; a small cavern, more of a large animal burrow than anything really, hidden behind dense shrubbery, tall grass, and a tight thicket of trees.

I settled easily into my familiar hiding spot, secure in the certainty that I wouldn't be found without a dedicated searching quirk; from the outside looking in, and even with the willingness to walk a few feet into the tick and burr infested foliage, the place was entirely invisible if you didn't know exactly where to look. I noted without much surprise that the many little additions I'd made to this little hideaway were simulated accurately, the dirt carvings of All Might's smiling face (amongst more than a few random doodles) and a half buried stash of water and non-perishable, scent sealed foods bringing back memories of taking cover from Kacchan for days at a time when he got particularly bad.

I grimaced, carving scratches through All Might's grinning face with my nails and bringing my thoughts back to the moment. There was no way to physically see out into the park from my hiding spot (it wouldn't have been half as effective if there were), but I knew more than a few tricks for monitoring the place for people coming and going from any of the main routes; it would have been hard to evade Kacchan's wrath for ten years if I hadn't learned a few things.

Thus, I knew right away when an individual arrived from the opposite path towards home, and also when a dozen people sprinted in from the other way roughly twenty seconds later. I frowned deeply, it wasn't hard to guess mom was the individual and the cops made up the large group even without the generic law enforcement shouts coming from the latter's direction. Worse still, the number of cops pouring into the park kept increasing with every stressed beat of my heart; while it didn't seem like they knew where I was exactly, they certainly were doggedly searching the area.

The thought that they may have asked Aunty Mitsuki where I was headed did enter my mind, but I knew her well enough to know how she'd react to a hoard of gun toting cops demanding answers about me or Kacchan and "quickly giving concise and honest answers," wasn't it. It didn't feel like they could magically track me either, given I could hear them pointlessly tromping around the park, but if they were merely fanning out and searching the area they had certainly done so quickly. I wasn't quite certain what was going on there, but I also wasn't in a position to find out at the moment.

The idea of trying for a repeat of my last timed challenge and just charging out did occur to me, but I knew I'd just be shredded in a hail of bullets before I got halfway to mom. Unless I could steal a pistol off one of those officers and manage to nail a lethal shot on a moving target with no prior experience before the hoard tore me apart, this challenge was as good as failed already. That thought in mind, I decided to try another minor experiment and see if I could voluntarily end a simulation early.

I didn't bother wasting time with trying to just think my attempted commands, I already knew my power operated on voice commands so I skipped straight to whispering very quietly. "Concede. I give up. Quit. Lemme out." Nothing, damn. That was not good, without a way to voluntarily quit the simulation short of (presumably) suicide, I could easily get stuck in a situation where I can't escape or kill myself for days, or even longer if I'm captured and kept alive for some reason.

I wasn't particularly worried about that last part, if I'm honest. My targets (and all of the backup I've seen so far) all seem remarkably dedicated to killing me outright, not taking me prisoner. If my mom was driven to gut me like a fish and toss me out a window, I presumed the simulation would make even the kind of person that would keep someone prisoner for an extended period want to kill me at least relatively quickly. Mom hasn't been totally mindless even in challenges without this realism modifier -she had shut off the water and grabbed a knife before going to kill me the first time, after all- but I hadn't yet seen enough to determine if the target's personality influences their actions in combat; for that reason, I couldn't entirely rule out a dedicated sadist torturing me to death if given the chance, however.

My concerned muttering was interrupted by the trees around me twitching, the sight drawing my attention just in time for them to suddenly come alive, branches stretching out and joining numerous new growths in wrapping around me like snakes. I barely had time to let out a shocked scream before they constricted sharply, crushing the air from my lungs and diaphragm. I felt my bones begin to creak as the wooden tentacles around me continued to grow tighter and tighter, and for a brief moment I feared I would actually experience being juiced alive before the constriction of my veins caused the same result as massive heart attack. I barely felt my ribs fracture as the world faded to black; when I woke up to the world fading back in, the sharp pain all over my body had already disappeared.

FAILURE

Hint: You can gain a significant advantage in REAL and WRLD missions by observing the people around you. Be patient and watch for what they do; look for patrol patterns, appointments to be kept, and the target's usual patterns. Observe your target closely, and you may find an opening that you can exploit.

Note: Some challenges will always be set on a certain day and time, while others may begin at the same moment you start the scenario.

I blinked the painful death out of my eyes, reading over the tip thoroughly. Like last time, it gave me advice about the specific challenge before me and a general insight into the system; both were certainly useful, although I would have preferred to know what the modifiers did before I failed at them. I dismissed the notification as the world faded back in, my mind turning to what had just killed me as my eyes tracked my mother disappearing up the stairs.

I caught a glimpse of her new timer and frowned, two hours wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things but… but I wanted to complete the tutorial as quickly as I could. My hands shook slightly as I thought of getting out into the world and finding all sorts of useful quirks to copy, my heart raced at the thought of gaining tons of combat experience in a wide array of scenarios; I only had two months of summer before the UA entrance exam, I needed to finish the tutorial and start accumulating the kind of powers and skills that can secure me a place in that most prestigious of facilities.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat until my head hung over the backrest; I knew there was nothing I could do about the timer itself (much as I'd like to), so I instead headed to my room and turned my mind to preparing for the next attempt, and future challenges beyond that. One quick google search, and I discovered that the toxic green gas I'd created by throwing random chemicals together was, in fact, chlorine gas. After researching the effects, history, and dispersal properties of said shockingly easy to make lethal poison with search terms that didn't make me look like a terrorist, my next search was one I didn't bother typing in; I already knew exactly which sites to cross check for a relatively accurate map of which heroes, vigilantes, and known or suspected villains were operating nearby, after all.

Long experience correlating hero and villain movements to predict where and when I would most likely be able witness relatively safe battles had a number of tabs spread out across my screen in moments; half my journals were filled with notes from fights I had personally witnessed, and that kind of frequency doesn't just happen even in a neighborhood like mine. It takes effort to identify not just the most likely places two opposing forces would meet, but also to judge where would most likely be a safe place to observe from without getting caught up in the crossfire; and that wasn't even taking into account deciding which fights wouldn't be safe to be anywhere near!

In my experience, heroes, villains, and vigilantes are generally more predictable than any of them would like to admit; they usually wound up following the same patterns, operating off the same methodologies, and making similar decisions under similar circumstances if you watched them long enough.

Heroes were generally the easiest to track; many made their locations and routes public on social media, fan sites, or their personal corporate web pages in the case of the more formal types. Even those that didn't broadcast their locations openly usually didn't make any effort to hide their presence and would have fans posting about them within two minutes of arriving anywhere even semi-public more often than not. There were exceptions, of course, heroes like Eraserhead that put in a concerted effort to keep themselves hidden, but most heroes actively wanted to be seen and gave little thought to being tracked.

Predictably, villains and vigilantes were significantly harder to keep track of. Both had a vested interest in not being found, so both took active measures to not be tracked. Only the dumbest and shortest lived of either would do something so stupid as to post their locations publicly, and most stayed out of the public eye and tried not to draw attention to themselves. This made relying on sightings far less reliable and far less consistent, but if one knew what to look for there were usually signs. Vigilantes took generally less care to cover their tracks and eliminate or avoid witnesses than villains that don't want to be found -likely because they didn't tend to be quite as openly hunted as villains, even if they were often treated the same by more hardline heroes- and thus could often be found by looking for people posting about new or unknown heroes. For villains, outside the few lunatics willing to openly go about wearing a costume and taking credit for their work, it usually came down to tracking a sudden surge in certain crimes (often with identifying methodologies or quirk residue) in various areas to see where they have been (and notably not, usually, where they presently are), and maybe looking for specific graffiti or calling cards left behind (which often also works for more secretive or lethal vigilantes).

Even with the percentage of my day I dedicated to studying heroes and villains, I didn't have time to personally collect and sift through all that data for actionable information; fortunately for me, I wasn't the only one with a fascination for such things. With the help of a number of knowledgeable and encouraging strangers on the internet, I had set up a simple program to scan through the various sites this data could be found, and use a relatively simple algorithm to derive and distill the information of use from it. I'm certain it wasn't a perfect system, nothing ever really is, but for confirming my suspicions it was good enough.

I already knew what heroes were known to be operating within and around Musutafu prefecture, so it was hardly a surprise to confirm the only one with a quirk like the one that killed me was Kamui Woods. While he normally just extended wooden tentacles or objects from his body (usually his fingers), he had been seen manipulating existing trees via direct contact on a small number of occasions. More importantly than him being a local hero, was that he wasn't the optimal hero for finding me under the circumstances, just one of the closer ones; this meant it was likely my power started drawing heroes (and likely villains) from nearby at around ten minutes, rather than directly sending whoever will mess up my day the most in that instance. That was more workable, it still made reaching ten minutes in a timed challenge effectively a soft failure condition (not that five minutes wasn't effective enough at that as is) but at least it wasn't as harsh as I feared.

Having ticked off that concern for timed challenges in general, I spent a few minutes studying anatomy to better know where to target before exhausting the list of things that could help that I felt I could safely research online (I had learned from experience that reading about strategy and watching martial arts instructional videos only helped so much), I simply headed the sirens call of searching for the latest hero (or even villain for that matter) footage; I could even justify it as researching how to both get and use their quirks! Fully immersed in distant and past acts of heroic struggle and villainous malevolence as I was, I barely noticed when my door creaked open some time later.

Barely was good enough, however; I whirled in my chair, a memory of mom coming at me with a knife flashing through my mind before reality reasserted itself. Rather than charging in to liberate my intestines from their fleshy prison, mom was leaning on the door as she held it partially open, "Honey, I've filled out most of the paperwork to enter the UA entrance exam; I just need to know…" She trailed off for a moment, watching me with faintly misty eyes before she blinked them clear, "I need to know what to call your quirk, and what it does. We'll also need to get it registered officially, but we can handle that after signing up for the entrance exam, so don't worry."

I smiled at her, feeling genuinely excited (if still very anxious) about the future for the first time in… longer than I could remember, since before I learned I had no quirk no future anyway. I had thought about what to say for this, what to call my "quirk" and what to report about it. A quiet part of me whispered in a voice that carried with it the smell of smoke and burnt flesh that, perhaps, I should lie about my power; that the power handed to me was the kind of thing that made people nervous, envious even. People invested a lot of their pride and self worth into their quirk, into this one thing that made them unique, and people tended to react poorly to the idea of having that uniqueness impinged.

That wasn't even going into the very real concerns about the details of my simulations being potential privacy and or security risks or violations, something a great many organizations up to and including the government would be more than slightly uncomfortable with (the fact Sir Nighteye's location was closely monitored by the Public Safety Commission was an open secret). Worse still, the retroactive nature of the health improvements my quirk (so far) gave every second challenge would make it nearly impossible to prove they were really happening. At least the later of the two could be quietly swept under the rug; it would be more trouble than it was worth to try to explain a feature that seemed to be actively trying to hide its influence (any test that should prove a difference was likely to be accounted for already) so I simply decided not to bother.

People didn't need to know I was helping them to benefit, after all.

A dark voice that whispered in the tongue of boiling fat and crackling fire in the back of my mind told me to call my quirk Parasite, or simply Inferior. It slithered between my ears, hissing that my deal with the devil had only bought me a tool to forever be in the shadow of the greater heroes whose powers I stole. I dismissed these thoughts after some internal consideration; they simply weren't accurate to what I'd observed. Mom showed no signs of declining health or power (quite the opposite, in fact) like a parasite would inflict, the powers I got were weaker from the first challenge but they seemed to escalate every other challenge, and I was determined to cast a historical shadow so wide even All Might would be subsumed by it eventually.

Ultimately, I had decided to settle on a simple name and a technically accurate description. "My quirk is called Challenger. I'm not certain of the exact activation requirements, but it seems to only work when I'm near someone; at seemingly random intervals I'll be offered a mental challenge that will grant me a less powerful variant of someone's quirk."

All things considered, everything I said was technically true; I merely left some things out, downplayed certain features, and phrased it in a slightly misleading way. I really didn't know the exact activation requirements, the timers for failures really did seem to be random at this point, my powers were less powerful at first, and "near" is a relative term that can include "in visual range" if one is generous. A part of me was ashamed of that logic, but I pushed through it; sometimes heroes had to lie, for any number of reasons. Sometimes the truth only hurts people.

Mom paused for a moment as she processed what I'd just said, her eyes widening slightly before she shook her head and sent a wide smile my way. She gave me a resolute nod, "Okay honey, I'll get that registered right away!"

My own smile split my face, in large part because of the huge step towards heroism I'd just taken, and partly because mom's timer finally ticked down. "Thanks! I love you mom. Challenge." I whispered the last word, my ever so slightly watery smile fading into a determined line as the world dissolved around me.

This time I didn't waste a moment, snatching my bat from my closet and practically flying down the stairs and out the door. I didn't make any side trips, rushing straight for the park, and not pausing a moment to run straight through it; mom wouldn't reach the park until about the seven minute mark and by then the police would be swarming all over the place, so trying to set up an ambush was a dead end. Instead, I darted straight down the path mom had come from, avoiding the same little natural noise traps that had given her away with ease of long familiarity.

I didn't even consider jogging to conserve energy, sprinting full tilt down the path with bat in hand. A few walkers enjoying the scenic pathway gave me odd looks, but no one did anything more than scoff and shake their heads. I didn't exactly know where mom was coming from but the trail only went one way for several miles, making it rather easy to deduce she had to be somewhere on it to reach the park when she did.

My prediction was proven true barely thirty seconds later, when I cleared a twist in the path obscured by a copse of trees and saw her barely twenty feet ahead of me. She spotted me the same moment, glancing at the bat in my hand and twisting on her heel the moment it registered in her mind; unfortunately for her, the moments it took her to process what she was seeing cost her. She barely made it three steps before I was upon her, my bat swinging hard for her head.

I don't know if it was poor aim on my part or some hitherto unseen instinct on hers, but my first blow went wide; rather than the decisive strike to the cranium I was hoping for, the blow skittered off the side of her head and slammed home on the crook of her neck. I heard and felt bones break under the impact, soft flesh compacting and breaking down as fragments of bone tore through it. The hit was sufficient to bring her crumpling down in a heap, but not sufficient to kill her outright.

She gave a gasp of shock and pain that quickly transitioned into a scream, though my second and third shots fixed that before anyone could come running to investigate. A rain of solid, steady blows to the head quickly crushed open her skull and sent the world fading back into reality.

SUCCESS

Reward: Inko Midoriya +

I took a deep breath in through the nose and released it through my mouth, noting I felt somewhat tired even back in the real world. None of my other aches and pains from sprinting across town carried over, but a body wide feeling of slight exertion settled over me nonetheless. I suppose that answered what the downside of my quirk was, or at least a limitation; repeated challenges cause fatigue. A relatively simple limitation to factor in, all things considered.

A more immediate concern was the feeling of a warm, soft body pressing into me. It only took a moment to work out what had happened; in the few moments it took for reality to fade back in, mom had lunged from the doorway and hugged me. I wrapped my arms around her in turn, making a mental note of the potential danger that moment of sensory disconnect represented; if mom had been some villain I was fighting, I likely would have been dead before I could've reacted. I couldn't help but note the way her hands roamed my back, rubbing all over in a way I couldn't recall her ever doing before.

Then one of her hands slipped under my shirt, warm fingers continuing to run in meandering trails across my skin. I stuttered in shock as the other hand joined in, roaming my bare back, "M-mom?!"

She merely tightened her embrace, breathily whispering into my ear, "It's alright, honey. I'm so proud of you, I love you so much…" Her words filled my chest with a different kind of warmth than her roaming hands left in their wake, though I couldn't get my mind off the gentle circles she was tracing in the small of my back. "You…" her voice hitched, "you told me despair awoke your quirk? Well, All Might may not believe in you, but I do." She leaned back, meeting my wide eyes with watery but resolute emerald orbs of her own, "You can, no, you will be a hero!"

Tears blurred my vision as, for the first time in my life, I heard the simple words I had always longed for coming from my mother's mouth. A gasp escaped my lips, my mouth moving but no words coming out as I felt a crack form in a decade old calcified trauma encapsulating my heart. I never managed to gather my thoughts before mom darted forward, her lips gently impacting my own and taking advantage of my opened mouth to slip her tongue inside.

My already wide eyes nearly popped out of my head, feeling her tongue exploring my mouth in utter confusion and disbelief. I couldn't deny that it felt good, that her warm embrace, soft caresses, and loving kiss was probably the most pleasant thing I'd ever experienced… but even as she pressed her chest into mine, one hand stroking the back of my neck while the other crawled its way down my spine, the part of my mind not dissolving into pink mist was frantically asking questions.

Questions like what had prompted this, and if it was a coincidence that mom suddenly got much more affectionate right after I got rewarded with "Inko Midoriya +" from my power. Questions that only solidified when mom suddenly gave my butt a squeeze before pulling back, hands sliding up my back to rest on my shoulders (outside my shirt, this time). She looked me straight in the eyes, smiling wide with a notable blush on her face, "I love you, sweetie."

I gave her a somewhat shaky smile back, taking the opportunity to look her over for physical changes beyond the mental one's I suspected. Her skin seemed smoother, her hair healthier, and her face seemed almost entirely void of the signs of aging, but what really stood out was her body. Where before she had gone from overweight to chubby, this time she didn't seem to have lost weight so much as shifted it around to more… flattering places. A gentleman might have called her voluptuous, everyone I knew would have simply called her thicc.

My eyes returned to hers, finding her smile -and blush- had grown. "Oh, it seems your wandering eyes have found their way home~?" Her voice took on a teasing tone, laced through with a breathy undertone I didn't recognize. "Well, did your prodigal eyes

like what they saw? I've been exercising more, but some of the weight just won't come off~." To emphasize her point, she pouted and pushed her breasts up with her hands, seemingly weighing them by separately bouncing them up and down in each hand.

My eyes locked on the bouncing bust before me, whispers of how wrong this was drowning beneath a sudden tidal wave of lust and loneliness. There was a beautiful woman pushing her chest out and encouraging me to stare, for a guy who's only prior interaction with girls had been cruel pranks and mockery, this was beyond incredible… even if that woman was my suddenly gorgeous mom… and I suspected my power was influencing her mind…

A voice that sounded uncomfortably like All Might shouted out from the back of my mind, screaming that this was wrong, that I should turn myself in or take myself out. I flinched, but the guilt met a sharp spike of crystalline rage and was found wanting, vaguely noble sentiments pouring out like blood from a deathblow through my mind and finding only cold hard rationalizations where they sought cracks. The thought of All Might chastising me for an unavoidable side effect of my power, (even if only in my imagination), filled me with a spiteful conviction; I knew it was irrational, but the idea that the society that man built would ostracize me for not having a power, yet even getting a power had seemingly only moved me from "nobody" to "villain."

I clenched my eyes shut, fighting against tears as I felt my rekindled dreams flicker and fade. I didn't even have a full day to enjoy my new found power before realizing it would be villainous to even use it! I… if my power makes people fall in love with me against their free will, using it would be unethical… The heroic thing to do would be to take Katsuki's half remembered advice and hope I got a less evil quirk in my next life, or at bare minimum never use my powers again.

But that simply wasn't an option. The thought of stopping here made me physically ill, even the idea of finishing the tutorial and only ever pursuing people's first challenge from then on to avoid mentally altering my victims filled me with a crushing sense of futility and despair; I'd have already twisted my own mother, and even then I could never be a great hero tying both hands behind my back like that. Even if the idea of abandoning my dreams didn't make me want to retch my guts out, the deal I made to get these tainted powers had a very clear stipulation, "Use your powers." Even If I wanted to give up, the devil would come calling for reneging on him.

I felt a piece of me die as I realized the choice before me, a shining ideal cracking in the face of an untenable reality; I could either abandon my dreams and face the wrath of my mysterious benefactor, kill myself to avoid it, or break my morals and carry on as originally planned. I couldn't stop myself from crying this time, staring into mom's now concerned eyes as I saw only damnation ahead of me; I searched their warm green depths, trying to see if the mother who raised me was still in there.

After a moment, I found what I was looking for. It wasn't any one thing, but a number that sang a familiar song; the way she stood, the tilt to her head, the loving concern radiating off her. My powers didn't kill her, from what I could tell this increased affection beyond familial propriety was merely an extension of the enhancing properties I'd already seen; it's just that my power doesn't have a moral code and clearly wants to benefit me first and foremost, therefore it sees nothing wrong with "enhancing" people's feeling towards me. Ultimately, the changes were mostly beneficial, mom was vastly healthier and more beautiful; the increased affection was just a minor price for that enhancement, most quirks have some sort of downside after all.

At least, that's what I chose to believe, anyway. Besides, if it does the same thing to villains, this could give me an option to deescalate a fight or even reform people. This could be a tool for even greater heroism, if I just looked at it the right way!

And I couldn't deny the slithering, smoky part of me, the part that shivered in the back of my mind dwelling on years and years of loneliness and pain, the part that hadn't had a single bit of none-painful physical contact outside mom and Mitsuki in ten years, that really wanted this shortcut to acceptance and love. Even with the obviously ethically dubious nature of it, that tiny little wriggling piece of my mind couldn't help but think of what it would be like to have a dozen soft arms cocooning me in their warm embrace… and didn't really care if it was only my power that facilitated it. It wasn't even just lust (though I couldn't deny its presence), it was just… loneliness hurts. I knew that better than most, and I just couldn't turn my back on a path to never feeling like that again.

Mom, visibly concerned about my sudden breakdown, began rubbing my shoulders, drawing my thoughts back to the moment as she asked me, "Honey, are you okay?"

I nodded, wiping my eyes on my sleeve, "Y-yeah mom, I'm just… I'm so happy." The words tasted strange on my tongue, tainted yet still true; despite the… uncomfortable revelation, today was undoubtedly the best of my life. Even with a dark and selfish shadow hanging over it, there was finally a path forward that didn't lead to misery and despair. "I'm gonna be the best hero the world has ever seen!"

My eyes slipped away from her return smile, pulling back to settle on the ominously innocent lock floating transparently before her. A part of me knew this was the final step, the last time I could turn back before I was truly damned; if I used this power again, knowing full well the cost, I couldn't claim ignorance even to myself. To fulfill my dream and become the greatest hero I could be, I would have to knowingly and willfully commit what I knew in my heart to be acts of evil, I would need to become a villain in my own eyes.

TUTORIAL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 5/6

[LUST] [CAGE]

Heh, what a fitting set of modifiers to stab me in the heart with. I set aside the unlikely interpretation that my powers were claiming I was caging my lust or caged by it, and thought of what it most likely actually meant. Lust probably didn't mean what it sounded like, I doubted my powers would suddenly switch from duels to the death to… that; more than likely, it was a shortening of the quirk analyst term "bloodlusted," meaning devoid of morals and devoted to killing. Cage was obvious, so much so I didn't even bother speculating; I knew the easiest way to confirm it was to simply pull the trigger.

"Challenge," and like that, the world, and a large piece of my soul, cracked into pieces and faded away.

The sight that met my eyes as the simulation faded in was not surprising, though it was certainly urgent. Rather than any specific location, I had spawned into an evenly lit white room. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to determine the dimensions of the room or the exact shade of white everything was; by the time I came into awareness, my mother (standing roughly twenty feet ahead of me and dressed the same as usual) had as well. She didn't waste a moment, sprinting towards me the second she registered I was there. Fortunately, she was unarmed; unfortunately, so was I.

I frowned, bracing myself to counter her charge rather than trying to counter charge; my plan came to a screeching halt when mom raised her hand halfway through her charge, and a sudden spike of white hot agony ran through my chest. It felt like an elephant had kicked me in the chest, seething waves of pain radiating out from my heart through my every vein. I gasped, hands moving to clutch at my chest as the pain slowly faded; the distraction allowed mom to close the distance, a swift punch to the face knocking me on my ass.

I managed to roll with my fall, carrying myself away from the immediately following stomp aimed for my head and carrying on to dodge a few more kicks. I barely managed to start rising to my feet before agony erupted once more, this time from the back of my head radiating forward. My body suddenly felt weak, nausea curling in my stomach as a terrible ringing consumed my hearing; I tried to push myself up from the ground, but found my limbs not obeying my commands in time before a surprisingly heavy kick impacted my stomach.

The force wasn't all that much -mom, even with her new enhancements, was never a particularly physically strong woman- but I found myself flipping over onto my back nonetheless. My thoughts seemed to be coming slower, a haze of staticky fog clogging up the gaps between every idea; I tried to keep track of the hail of blows raining down on me, but it felt as if one blow ended just in time for another to land from a different angle. A solid kick to the gut sent a spray of blood and vomit out my mouth, coating myself and mom's legs in red tinted bile.

I lashed out blindly, dazed and confused but unwilling to just lay down and die. One of my random, flailing blows got lucky, catching mom's ankle just as she raised her other leg for another kick; the blow wasn't solid, but it was enough for her shoe to lose traction on the vomit-slicked ground and send her tumbling. Black spots floated through my vision, the only reprieve from the suddenly stinging brightness of the even lighting as I desperately threw myself on top of mom's fallen body.

My fuzzy mind and blurry vision would have made aiming my blows difficult even if I my limbs were as responsive as normal; as it was, I just caused whatever damage I could to wherever I could land a blow on, biting, kicking, scratching, punching, and just generally flailing my body in as destructive a manner as possible. Were I facing a competent, trained killer I likely would have achieved approximately fuck all; my saving grace came in the simple fact that I was stronger than mom, even under the influence of whatever the hell she had done to me.

Even slowed and throwing uncoordinated blows at random, my weight and attacks were enough to keep mom from getting up again. Mom fought just as viciously as I did, clawing at my skin with her nails, biting wherever she could, and occasionally sharply wrenching her hand back and causing my organs to shift violently inside me. Even with my thoughts running like wet watercolour, I recognised that whatever she was doing must have been caused by those gestures and took steps to stop them.

The next slap she directed towards my head instead met my teeth, and I learned just how weak the bones in the fingers are when a single bite sheared clean through three of her fingers just above the base knuckle. I spat her severed fingers into her face, seizing her damaged arm and holding it steady as I tore away at her wrist with my teeth. Mom didn't even scream, reacting to the crippling injury with inhuman calm and simply smacking her other hand into my side even as hot blood splattered over my face from her torn veins and tendons.

My lungs seized in my chest, the air rushing up my throat as one crashed into the other and smashed both into the side of their cavity. The sudden inability to breathe stunned me for a moment, but if mom had hoped to free herself while I was winded and choking, she underestimated my tenacity. Besides, this wasn't the first time I'd been suddenly suffocated in combat; Katsuki liked to visit the river for a reason, and it wasn't out of any love of nature.

I pounded a hammer strike into her forehead with my off hand, the blow bouncing her head off the glowing ground and right into a second blow. Disoriented, likely about as much as I was, her next blow glanced off my ribs as I released her ruined arm, punched her once more in the side of her temple, grabbed her by the forehead with both hands, and began pounding her head into the ground over and over. I carried on smashing her head against the hard ground until the world shattered into green light around me, the haze in my thoughts vanishing with the white walls.

SUCCESS

REWARD: Small Object Attraction (3)

With my thoughts cleared it wasn't hard to guess what she'd done; she'd used her quirk to pull my organs towards her. That… that was not something mom had ever shown the capacity to do. That was, arguably, in line with what she theoretically might be able to do if you stretch the definition of "small object," given I had seen her pull things to her without looking at them; however, I was fairly certain she couldn't pull small pieces of a greater whole towards her. Either my power was able to predict what she'd be able to do with training (something I considered highly likely) or it had enhanced her power slightly (something I also considered very likely).

Both were a serious consideration for the future, one for ways to help allies with some pointed advice for how to train their abilities and the other for the danger it could add to villains; although, if it took four challenges for a relatively (mechanically) minor upgrade, their improved disposition towards me could mitigate the increased danger. Hopefully. If it didn't I would just have to factor that into my risk calculations going forward.

I've already made my choice, one more stumbling block, one more potential downside wasn't going to be enough to make me give up now.

Mom was still smiling at me when my senses settled back into reality. I returned her smile, feeling black tar fill in the cracks in my soul as I accepted my new lot in life. There was only one more challenge before I would be, presumably, unleashed upon the world. I couldn't wait.

TUTORIAL

MIDORIYA HOUSEHOLD 6/6

[ZONE] [GANG] [REAL]

I didn't hesitate, resolute in my path, "Challenge." The world dissolved once more, and I found myself standing outside the apartment. Unlike every previous challenge this one took place at night, only the flickering street lights and the distant stars above providing illumination. I blinked, taking in my environment with wary eyes; visible about a hundred feet down the street was a wall of green hexagons, rising up into the sky in an arc that suggested they'd eventually close but seeming to dissolve into increasing transparency until they were either not present or simply invisible about a hundred feet up.

Well, that pretty succinctly explained what the Zone modifier did then. To be certain it really was the barrier it appeared and to see how exactly it goes about impeding me (it could just be a wall, or it could be an instant death trigger or a beam of incineration or something, and the difference could be vital to know), I spent the time to walk over to the wall and threw a rock at it.

I blinked, watching in surprise as the stone flew through the hexagonal wall like it wasn't even there. I narrowed my eyes and cautiously approached, slowly extending a slightly shaking finger until it gently tapped against the barrier… and came to a dead halt. Fortunately, it didn't incinerate, evaporate, disintegrate, or otherwise annihilate me, but it also didn't give way under any amount of force I could generate. A quick test confirmed that my clothes, carried objects, and even spit could pass through the barrier, but I could not; even my hair and nails, arguably only dead keratin attached to the body, couldn't pass through unless I detached them first.

A barrier to stop me from leaving, but not prevent potential outbound attacks then. That implied the target could potentially escape (otherwise why bother allowing anything to pass through), but if I had a means to kill them at range I could still try it. Which also implies the target escaping out of bounds doesn't immediately end the simulation, so if it lasts long enough then they could still bleed out or die from a toxin.

I didn't have a ranged weapon or quirk (and while I could try making as much chlorine gas as possible in hopes that some will reach and kill an escaped target, that was the kind of unlikely to work desperation tactics I would rather not need) so all that effectively meant was that I should try to avoid letting Zone targets escape. That fact in and of itself, however, told me to look out for aberrant behavior from mom; if the possibility of the target escaping was already accounted for, the idea that they may try to escape was only logical.

Factoring in that mom may make an attempt to flee rather than confront me only meant this mission was slightly more complicated than usual; if I get bogged down fighting her gang, it's possible she'll escape beyond my reach. That made speed or stealth a priority; I either needed to take down whoever got in my way fast enough for any alert they gave to not matter or be sneaky enough to not raise alarms, though both would be helpful.

With my lack of adequate weapons or deadly quirks, I decided to prioritize stealth and reserve trying to take out or bypass a likely fairly large amount of people fast enough to prevent mom from escaping as a last resort. A very desperate, but equally very likely last resort; I had very little faith in my ability to actually sneak past any sort of dedicated guards, after all.

I sighed, wishing I had a weapon of some sort as I quietly walked up and checked if the front door was unlocked. It wasn't, leaving me to ponder how to get in. I could just try to smash the door open, but the noise would undoubtedly attract any guards even if it didn't alert mom. Rather than immediately abandoning my only advantage, I decided to go around back and try the fire escape… and immediately ran into the issue that the ladder was pulled up, a little less than twenty feet up.

Trying to throw something at it, even if it worked, would only run into the same issue of making noise; although, given the Real modifier, it was likely that a strange noise in the alley behind the apartment would elicit an investigation rather than a full blown alert. The fire escape had clearly seen little love and maintenance, the metal was rusted and visibly flaking away in some places, lending a little credence to the idea that a solid hit might bring the ladder crashing down; though, whether the ladder could be trusted to carry any weight at all was questionable.

Ultimately it came down to whether I thought I had better odds of smashing through the front door with my bare hands, sprinting up three flights of stairs, and killing mom and anyone between me and her, or finding something to to throw, successfully hitting the ladder with sufficient force to knock it down, and then sneaking up three flights of rusty, rickety iron stairs after making such a racket. Honestly, they both sounded like awful ideas, but I didn't have any better ones.

The deciding factor between my two choices came down to simple practicality; a quick search of the alley provided nothing suitable for bringing down the ladder. For once, I was annoyed at the dedication of our cleaning staff, but ultimately I decided this was probably a good thing. I wasn't exactly thrilled to have my hand forced, but needs must and all that; better to roll with the punches than get rolled by them, anyway.

I really wished I had a lockpick (and the knowledge to use it) or even just a fire ax, but our front door was old, weak wood with only rusty hinges and long since out of date locks holding it in place. I braced myself on the railing, reared back, and delivered a heavy kick just to the side of the handle. That one clean kick tore the deadbolt clean out of the wall in a shower of splinters and snapped the thin chain lock like it was made of aluminum.

It was more than slightly unnerving to learn just how poor our building's security really was, but for my purposes it made things significantly easier.

The sound of the door crashing open immediately drew attention, the landlord blearily charging out of his room not ten seconds after the door impacted the wall; he was wiping the sleep from his eyes with one hand, and holding a sawed off a double barrel shotgun I was all but certain he didn't really own with the other. I hadn't waited around at the entrance however, expecting resistance from the get go and already sprinting forward, I crossed the distance before he cleared his eyes. My right fist impacted his chin at the same time I snatched the gun by the barrels and wrenched it away from him.

Knocked back by the blow, he lost his grip on the shotgun; fortunately, his fingers hadn't been on the trigger and he'd not squeezed it in his shock. I whipped the gun around, slamming the rounded down stock into his throat and cutting off his building scream in a choked gurgle. He fell to the ground with a thud, clutching at his crushed throat with both hands while staring at me in goggle eyed hatred.

Taking the firearm in both hands, I slammed the stock into his head over and over and over. I didn't stop when his eyes went blank, nor when he finally stopped twitching, nor even when his skull fully caved in before my assault and I embedded the stock all the way to the grip in his brains. Only when his head was little more than a red paste on the ground did I let up, collapsing to the side, dropping the blood soaked gun, and taking several deep breaths.

I fought down sickness, and tears; taking deep breaths and swallowing repeatedly as the nausea elicited hypersalivation. He wasn't my target, killing him wouldn't get me closer to victory… but given the bounds of the simulation, taking prisoners was a time wasting frivolity; they cease to exist when the challenge ends, so whether they're killed in the process or not is irrelevant. Even still, even that intellectually reasonable logic flowing through my mind didn't numb the horror and disgust of what I had done.

I beat him so badly because it was the only way I knew how to kill; every other time I had killed someone it had been my target, and the world had faded away as I savaged them. I didn't know exactly how much force to use to inflict a lethal blow, how to tell if my enemy was dying or if they were still good to fight… so I just kept hitting him, expecting some obvious sign to stop but only finding one when exhaustion started to set in.

"It's not real, it doesn't matter, it's not real, it doesn't matter…" I mumbled that mantra over and over as I lay on the cold carpet just inside the landlord's apartment, trying to convince myself as much as calm down. Every other time I'd killed someone, the world had faded away as they died; this was the first time I'd ever had to just… live with what I'd done, sit there and stare at his unmoving body. His face was unrecognizable, mixed in amongst his pulped skull and scrambled brain such that his whole head was nothing but an indistinguishable pile of gore. I turned my eyes away, staring up at the ceiling and turning my focus to listening for any reaction to the murder that just took place.

After several deep breaths without hearing any sounds of movement, I began to slowly relax. Eventually, the nausea began to subside, and a pressing need to not lay too close to a rapidly growing pool of blood drove me to rise shakily to my hands and knees. As the nausea faded further and I regained my strength, I shuffled over to the shotgun I dropped, grabbing it before hoisting myself to my feet.

I had never held, let alone used a gun before, but I had played enough video games and watched enough crime scene footage to have a general idea of how to operate something as simple as two tubes with two triggers. With some ginger fiddling, I managed to crack the barrel open and found it was loaded; I then had to immediately figure out how to reload it, as opening the chambers ejected the shells.

Feeling the strength return to my body, I spent the next few minutes quietly tossing the landlord's house. He was a miserly man, having little of any use safe a box of buckshot shells, a few kitchen knives, and, buried deep in his the back of an otherwise empty desk drawer, a rusty master key to the building. A master key he wasn't legally allowed to have, mind you, but one that might make my plans slightly easier; it wouldn't work on my door however, mom had changed the locks out of exactly this kind of concern.

Satisfied I had stolen everything of value, I headed for the stairs. I took my time, carefully ensuring my steps were quiet as I worked my way up; I didn't know for sure there was a threat on every floor, but the landlord running out when I kicked the door in somewhat implied the whole building was inhabited with hostiles. I didn't keep track of how long it took, but it felt like an eternity before I gently settled myself up in front of the door to the third floor; with one hand maintaining a white knuckle grip on my new shotgun, I reached out to quietly ease the doors open.

And felt my blood go cold when the hinges gave a hideous screech halfway through swinging open. My heart thundering in my ears, I froze in the now open doorway, eyes snapping from soundly shut door to door looking for any sign that someone had heard that wretched sound. A beat passed, and another, and I began to think that maybe, just maybe, no one had heard it.

Then both of the nearest doors slammed open, one revealing a burly woman with a cleaver and the other a yawning man with a butcher's knife. Ice gnawing on my veins with every thunderclap of my heart, I settled my sights on the man's chest and prayed to every deity that would listen that neither of them saw me. The man rubbed the sleep from his eyes, gave a greeting to the woman already stomping towards him, and glanced down the hall.

Our eyes met for a brief moment, wild green locking with surprised brown. I had only a moment to contemplate the way hate seemed to blossom from his pupils, turning warm. brown eyes into venomous pits, before I pulled the trigger and watched his head erupt into pink mist. I didn't hesitate, turning the gun on the woman and shooting her in the back, adjusting my aim for the apparently high sights and blowing open her chest and neck.

Another door slammed open as the bodies dropped, and I swung my sawed-off towards it, blindly pulling the trigger before the dull click reminded me I had fired both shots already. With the sound of doors opening all around, I snapped open my shortened gun, not bothering to track the empty shells as I desperately groped through my pockets to retrieve two good ones and slam them home. A curious man sleepily investigating the noise didn't have time to blink before his head turned to mist.

More and more doors were flying open, and I could hear a commotion from below; I didn't have enough shells or enough time to take on the whole building, and I knew it. Rather than hold my ground, I pulled out a bread knife I had taken with me and jammed it into the door such that it would delay the hoard that was surely waking up below me, then sprinted forward as fast as I could.

My apartment was, very inconveniently, located on the opposite side of the building from the stairs; there were roughly a dozen other apartments between me and mom, each one likely filled with between one and six armed combatants. I had ten- no, nine shells left. That math was not in my favour, and as people began to pour out into the hall in front and behind me, I began to resign myself to a likely unwinnable fight.

My only advantage was shock and confusion; while the Gang modifier seems to make them hostile on sight, Real means that people still act like themselves until they lay eyes on me; that meant people weren't all investigating at once, and more than a few doors remained resolutely closed. Apparently, some of my neighbors had the good sense to stay away from suspicious and danger-close gunshots, while some had more courage -or hubris- than brains.

Like the guy who kicked his door open just as I passed by, clipping me in the shoulder, nearly knocking the gun from my hands, and sending me spinning into the wall. If he had planned that out I would have given him some credit, but given he proceeded to charge me with nothing but a broken beer bottle and a dream, I was decidedly unimpressed. A spray of buckshot to the chest brought a quick end to his aspirations, but the delay had been enough for another, better armed neighbor to spot me and charge.

My eyes locked on the gleaming machete in the man's hand, and I knew I didn't have time to reload. I threw my empty gun at the man, drawing the sharpest knife I had as I counter charged him. As thousands of hours of combat footage taught me to expect, the man instinctively dropped his blade to catch the gun.

The look of smug amusement on his face quickly turned to shock when he turned the gun on me, only to hear the distinctive click of an empty chamber. He didn't have time to contemplate his mistake before my knife found a new home in his chest; to be sure he didn't get back up, I jerked the blade across his torso before pulling it out, sliding it along his ribs and carving a deep trench in his lungs. I tried to filter out the sucking, wet gasping noises coming from the man's chest as he struggled in vain to fill his ruined lungs with air, tucking my now wet knife back into my belt and focusing on retrieving and reloading my gun.

I made the mistake of glancing into the man's eyes as I stepped away and cracked open my sawed-off, finding the supernatural hatred I expected… but also a tinge of mortal terror creeping in from the edges. Apparently my simulations are good enough to produce a realistic response to fatal injuries. I didn't like thinking about that, so I wrenched my gaze away to check on the other rapidly opening doors.

A part of me wanted to ease his passing, but most of me didn't want to waste the ammo or time. I sprinted around the fallen but unfamiliar neighbor, making sure to keep out of his reach in case he tried anything. At this point the few doors in front of me were already open while I could hear rapidly approaching footsteps from behind; I grit my teeth and put more force into my stride.

Two more overly curious neighbors received buckshot for their troubles, and I was at my door. With angry shouts and pounding footsteps in my ears, I didn't bother even checking the lock, slamming a kick into the handle as I once more cracked open my gun and slammed two new rounds home. Unlike the front door, mom had spared none of father's expense making sure ours was of moderate quality and had decent locks; normally, I took some comfort in that, now it meant that my first kick only managed to send spider webbing cracks along the doorframe. My eyes widened at my failure, narrowing into a grimace as I looked over my shoulder and found at least a dozen men and women running towards me with various knives in hand.

Well, time to see how realistic this simulation really is.

I turned my gun on the crowd, feeling a spike of relief as the front runners came to a stumbling halt only to be knocked over by those behind them who hadn't seen the threat. Good, they retained enough personality to not blindly run to their deaths even if they could have definitely overwhelmed me with numbers. With the hoard tied up for the moment, I reared back to deliver another kick to the door.

Only for said door to explode into a hail of splinters, the force blowing me off my foot and sending me slamming into the far wall as bits of jagged wooden shrapnel pierced me all over. I groaned, rolling to the side on instinct and leaving a dozen thin trails of blood behind; my instincts proved correct as a second explosion followed barely a second after the first. Blinking to clear my vision and finding only the right half returned, I found myself staring at a familiar nightmare; Katsuki Bakugou wreathed in smoke, glaring down at me with his usual look of psychotic hatred as sparks danced across his palms.

I didn't hesitate, long experience having taught me exactly how Kacchan fights when he's angry; I threw myself down and to the right, dodging the explosive haymaker he always opened with before he even started throwing it. The splinters all over my body made rolling across the ground utter agony, the impact jolting the many uneven impaling agents and tearing my wounds open all the wider, but I bit back a scream as the ground where I'd laid a moment ago turned to rubble behind me. I grit my teeth to hold back the agonized wail that wanted to escape me as I rolled from my stomach onto my back, lined my shotgun up with Kacchan's back, and squeezed both triggers.

He almost dodged, a last second explosion from his off hand coming just barely too late to launch him out of my firing line; as it was, instead of blowing open his chest, I mangled his left shoulder and nearly blew the entire limb clean off. Katsuki once believed he was immune to explosions, as evidenced by his ability to withstand his own blasts without any ill effects; unfortunately for him, this resistance was actually not immunity, and it was especially bad at resisting foreign explosions.

One of my earliest journals was dedicated mostly to speculating on exactly why that was. My first thought was just that "quirk magic" made it so his own explosions didn't hurt him or that he was just that tough, but I had dismissed both after later seeing him get hurt by falling rubble thrown up by one of his blasts. Eventually, I had tentatively settled on the idea that his powers somehow tensed up or shielded his body at the moment he detonated, explaining why he didn't blow himself apart and why he could still be hurt by a punch to the face. This new data was very helpful in solidifying that theory, as I had never been able to completely dismiss the idea he had some kind of conceptual immunity to "explosions" in general; the blood jetting out from his ruined arm helpfully disproved that idea, at least. I made a mental note to write these observations down later.

I ignored the pained roar my childhood friend bully gave out, reloading as quickly as I could to keep the now emboldened hoard at bay. Seeing me wounded had obviously encouraged them, but thankfully the tangled mess my initial threat had left them in kept them from catching up. Waving my gun in their general direction brought many pause, but some were evidently convinced my half blind and bloodied state was a good enough advantage to be worth pressing on regardless.

I grimaced, whipping my gun around to line up with Katsuki's still screaming head. One pull of the trigger blew his brains wide open before he could get his mind around his agony and muster up the focus to be a threat. Movement in the ruins of the door put my second round into Mitsuki's face before she could contribute anything but a horrified scream to this disaster. I braced myself on the wall to push myself to my feet, cracking my gun open as I fished through my pockets for more shells; empty shells clattered at my feet as I searched my pockets, but my increasingly desperate hunting only produced two shells. I wasted no time slamming home my last shots, grimacing as the barrels clicked into place.

I snarled at the uncomfortably close tangled hoard, throwing myself to my feet with one hand and stumble-running into the apartment. I itched to pull the splinters from my flesh, but many a hero voiced PSA reminded me to leave embedded objects in to slow the bleeding; besides, under the circumstances, infection was very low on my list of concerns. I barely made it three steps into the house before I was tackled from my brand new blindspot, the impact lodging numerous splinters even deeper.

I hit the floor with a pained grunt, covering my head with one hand and slamming the barrels of my shotgun into the warm weight atop me with the other. Hot lines of pain across my arm and side told me my attacker was slashing at me with a knife, meaning it was only a matter of seconds before they either cut something important or wised up and started stabbing. I smacked them with both barrels over and over, jabbing blindly until the muzzles hit something soft, then pulled one trigger.

By the subsequent scream, I didn't hit anything immediately vital; even so, they reared back in shock and pain, freeing me up to jab my slashed-up elbow into their brand new wound. The blow caved in their weakened flesh, tearing open the thin channels between the different pellets' tracks and sinking deep into their torso before it caught on enough squished together organs and muscle tissue to push solidly against, throwing them to the side but dragging me on top of them by my elbow stuck in their guts. I snarled, fear and disgust mixing with desperation as I wrenched myself back, freeing my arm in a spray of gore.

I finally got a look at my assailant as I reared back, my wild emerald eyes meeting the furious and desperate brown of Masaru Bakugou, Katsuki's father. I had never seen such an expression on him before, furious hatred and rage warring for pride of place with agony and despair; it looked alien on his normally placid face, twisting familiar features into something I barely recognised. Despite his eyes smouldering with enough hatred to incinerate his mind, his quirk did little more than release a small amount of smoke from all over his body. A glance down showed me his wounds, and I knew immediately he wouldn't be getting back up; his stomach was a mess, torn open by a blast to the side and crushed in by my elbow strike. That alone wouldn't completely take him out of the immediate fight (I had seen enough smartphone footage of meth heads taking on cops and lethal vigilants to know that), but no amount of willpower would fix the chunk of his lower spine my initial shot had taken out.

A crash snapped my gaze to the doorway in time to see the first of the hoard to reach it slip on Mitsuki's blood and slide out of view, quickly followed by several more over eager attackers before one managed to snag the jagged edge of the frame. Their momentum shredded their hand on the sharp ruins of the doorframe, but they managed to slow themselves down enough to almost scramble into the doorway before one of their less cautious companions slammed into them. I glanced back down at Katsuki's dad, seeing his hands futilely reaching out for me from the ground.

I didn't waste my last shell on him, rising to my feet and leaving him for dead on the ground. Ignoring the commotion from the doorway, I ran for the stairs, drawing my knife with my off hand as I went. With the sound of several people struggling to get through the shattered doorway at once in my ears, I rocketed across the first floor, gripping the side of the stairway for leverage to whip myself around…

…And nearly fell flat on my face at what I saw waiting for me.

There, standing halfway up the stairs and glaring disdainfully down at me, was Hisashi Midoriya, my father. I hadn't seen him in eleven years, hadn't heard his voice in six, but I recognised him even still from the pictures in mom's room. The man of the house, back from his decades long business relocation to America and already sucking in a deep breath to incinerate his worthless child.

Unfortunately for him, I knew how his quirk worked. I didn't waste my last shell on him, I wouldn't waste it on him; instead, I used the first step as leverage to lunge up to meet him, my blade finding a home in his exposed throat just as he began to exhale. The new opening in his esophagus gave the fire in his lungs a new escape route, erupting from the gash in his neck alongside a spray of boiling blood. His lungs, throat, and mouth were all resistant to heat, but his skin and muscles were not; in an instant, the flames took root in his flesh and began to feast, spreading up from his throat to crawl along his face and quickly catch in his long hair.

Two more quick stabs, each with a quick twist to widen the wound, opened new express routes for the fire to explore, creeping out of his lungs to engulf his chest. I grabbed his wrist around my knife as he desperately clawed at his burning wounds, pulling him sideways and trailing one leg behind to trip him up as I slid around him; a sharp tug sent him stumbling straight into my outstretched leg, earning him a one way trip down the stairs that had him trailing blood and fire as he flew head first into the ground.

I didn't bother wasting a second to finish him off; he wasn't the target so ensuring he was dead would be a waste of time I didn't have. A glance showed me his burning, twitching body was effectively blocking the stairway, aided by the eagerness his traitorous flames showed in exploring the area around him, spreading to the wooden floor already. He was as good as dead, better even; the fire merrily consuming him would keep the cautious amongst the hoard at bay for a while, and his flailing would make stepping over him harder for the exceptionally brave. Hopefully, it would delay them long enough.

A dark, hateful part of me I hadn't acknowledged for a very long time wanted to sit and watch him burn for a few moments longer, but I shook the urge off after only a second. Wasting time enjoying the very unheroic sense of satisfaction seeing him burn sent through me wouldn't get me any closer to victory, and wouldn't make me a better hero.

That was what this was all for, after all; all this blood and pain, to be a better hero, the best hero.

I kept repeating that idea in my head, reminding myself what this was all for as I stagger-ran down the hall, leaving a trail of bloody footprints behind me. I was glad no one interrupted me, no last guard waiting in ambush in my room; despite my hate fueled display of agility against Hisashi, I was tired and only getting more and more so by the second. It was probably blood loss, my clothes were sticking to my body and my socks squished in my shoes with every step from the sheer amount of the vital fluid trickling down my skin from the innumerable small wounds all over me.

I needed to finish this before I bled out, or it wouldn't matter if the hoard reached me or not.

Mom's door didn't lock, so I didn't waste the energy to kick it open, keeping my gun trained on the doorway as I turned the handle and threw the door open. Mom was halfway out the window by the time I laid eyes on her, evidently having not decided to start running until recently. I didn't care to work out why, lifting my suddenly terribly heavy gun to eye level, bracing it on my other arm to provide a more stable platform when my hand wouldn't stop shaking; with the awkward angle I didn't have a particularly good shot, but I lined it up as best I could and pulled the trigger.

Mom's lower back exploded, her legs going limp as her stomach erupted onto the wall. I grimaced, tossing my spent gun on the bed as mom's intestines slithered out onto the floor around her knees. I staggered over to her as fast as I could, swapping my knife into my right hand as I drew near. She wailed in agony, the heart wrenching sound almost breaking my resolve as I stood over her.

"It's not real, it doesn't matter…" I swallowed my doubts, grabbing mom's nightgown just above her wound and dragging her back into the room far enough to get a clear shot on her vitals. The moment I could reach her upper torso, I took my blade in both hands and stabbed at where I thought her heart should be. Then I kept stabbing over and over until the world shattered into soothing green light.

SUCCESS

REWARD: Inko Midoriya +

I sighed in relief as my wounds disappeared, my vision instantly regaining depth and half its field as the world faded back into reality. A reality where the mother I'd just stabbed a dozen times was giving me what even my decidedly inexpert eyes couldn't fail to recognize as a downright sultry smile, and a little animation of a lock clicking open played out between us before fading away. The curve of her pouty lips drew my gaze down to her body, where they found the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen in person. She had gone from beautiful to supernaturally perfect, the kind of airbrushed perfection found only in media or on those rare few born with a beauty enhancing quirk.

And that supernaturally gorgeous woman was staring at me with smouldering eyes, the open lust in her gaze clear even to me. A part of me was disgusted, not with her but with myself; this was my own mother, and I'd twisted her mind until she looked at me like that just to get more power. I felt even worse when I realized I wasn't going to stop, even face to face with the consequence of my actions I couldn't bring myself to give up on my dreams.

My eyes flicked back up to her face in time to watch as she slowly licked her lips, gaze transfixed as her pink tongue added a shine to her seemingly naturally dark green lips. She smiled at me, tapping her wetted lips with a manicured finger before very deliberately trailing her hand down to her now very large chest, my eyes following all the while. A small part of me hated myself for the heat that spread from my eyes to my groin, a little voice in my mind whispering self recriminations and self loathing trying to tell me this was wrong.

"I love you honey," I tore my gaze from her undeniably eye catching cleavage back to her eyes at her words, searching them for any signs of reluctance or fear. I found nothing but overflowing warmth, and an unfamiliar hunger I knew could be nothing but lust. Her little smile turned into a hungry grin and she began to sashay my way, swaying her hips in a clearly exaggerated manner with every step. "Why don't you let mommy show you just how much~!"

A cold, emerald spear punctured my doubts, clearing the way for a white hot wave of lust to burn away my guilt until only dark smoke lingered in the back of my mind. In the face of such honest (if somewhat compelled, a voice that sounded uncomfortably like my own whispered) affection, how could I possibly turn her down?

She cupped my check the moment I was in reach, gently pushing me down onto my bed with her other hand while maintaining eye contact the whole way. I tried to speak, an ember of lingering hesitance chilling my inflamed desire for a moment, "Mom, ar-" She cut me off with a searing kiss, her tongue spearing through my lips and trying to tease mine out to dance together.

I didn't know how long the kiss lasted, in all likelihood it was mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity before we separated with twin gasps. I began to mumble some vague concern I couldn't articulate even in my mind, before mom caught her breath and spoke right over me, "Shhh, I know you think far too little of yourself honey, so you're just gonna lay back and let momma show you just how loved you are."

Any resistance left in me shattered at her words, and I let her push me onto my back without a noise of complaint. She smiled down at me, and I couldn't help but smile back, allowing myself to bask in the love radiating from her eyes and bury my concerns. My abandonment of long held values was immediately rewarded by the sight of mom slowly pulling her shirt over her head, revealing she was not wearing a bra.

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, my mouth falling open as I traced every inch of her pale skin. She was flawless, her massive breasts defying gravity to wobble in front of her without sagging an inch despite being larger than her head. I barely noticed her smile widening as she swayed enough to send her tits bouncing in a circle, my eyes following her already hardened nipples as I felt my cock strain against my normally loose pants.

Mom giggled sweetly, drawing my gaze -somewhat reluctantly- up to her face where I found her eyes, for once, not staring back at mine. Instead, she was looking a little lower, "Seems you've gotten a little excited there sweety, why don't we get those pants off so you can show mommy what you're hiding." Every time she brought up her title with that tone, a piece of my childhood withered and died… yet something else grew readily in its place, something that enjoyed the sheer wrongness very much.

I didn't know where that dark, wriggling part of me came from, nor why it sounded suspiciously like a large mass of eels writhing in a pit of petroleum jelly, but any worries over it never had time to form before mom wrapped her fingers around my waistband one by one. She tugged my pants down easily, only requiring me to raise my hips to let her slide them under me; she hadn't verbalized that request, merely sending me a pout when her initial tugs met resistance.

The moment my cock sprang free, mom let out a genuine gasp that I almost mirrored; it was bigger than I remembered, the nine inches Katsuki's had told me was below average now a towering thirteen inches at the tip and thicker around than my wrist. Was this a side effect of my powers? Could it be trying to push me to-

My thoughts cut off with a gasp as moms soft hand wrapped around my shaft, "Wow… I suppose I can't call you my little boy anymore when you're packing this monster!" She gave it a slow stroke as she spoke, lightly squeezing the bulbous head for emphasis at the end. I groaned, melting into my bed at her touch as she began to stroke in earnest.

"Mmm~, that's it baby, let mommy take care of you." Her hand was soft and warm, feeling somehow incomparable to my own despite being ostensibly the same structure. Her pace was steady and even, each stroke starting at the very tip and almost languidly dragging down all the way to the base and back in one long twisting motion. As a terminal outcast who had never so much as held hands with a girl before, I was already on the edge in a matter of seconds.

Mom seemed to notice right away, giggling softly, "It's okay honey, you don't need to hold back… cum for mommy~!" Punctuating her words, she gives my cock a long, slow lick from the base, tracing a vein along the bottom, and finally finishing by fully engulfing my tip in her warm, welcoming mouth. My vision went white, and for a moment I felt as if my very soul was flowing out my dick alongside a flood of cum.

Mom didn't hesitate, humming in delighted surprise as she happily gulped down mouthful after mouthful of hot semen. Pulse after pulse, she swallowed every last drop, only releasing her lips' seal on my cockhead when my orgasm finally ran out of steam and I sagged into the bed. "Mwah~! Mmm, you're delicious baby, sweet as honey!" She giggled slightly at her own words, tapping my only slightly flagging cock against her check.

I tried to get out some words, but mom

started giving my cock wet kisses all along the side, "My my, you're still hard sweety~! Momma can't leave a job half done and have her baby suffer like that~." Mom stood up, shucking off her pants and underwear in one quick motion.

I leaned forward to take in the heavenly sight before me as mom did a little pirouette, the motion causing ripples to dance across her smooth skin and doing wonders for her newly magnificent curves. Her smile widened, simmering eyes showing their enjoyment of my visible reaction to her body; the body I gave her, though she didn't know that. "Mmm, you know, your father hasn't been home in a very long time…" She trailed off, a drop of sadness tainting the warm lust in her eyes for a moment before she shook it off, "So fuck him, eh? Bastard hasn't even called me in six years, and you're bigger than him by a mile!" She grinned cheekily, "You taste better, too~!"

I blinked, trying to process that statement for a moment before mom practically leapt on top of me, her lips crashing with mine a second after her huge breasts slapped heavily onto my chest. I let out an "oof" that drew a giggle from mom as she drew back to place several kisses along my neck. She grabbed my arms, placing my hands on her boobs, "Go on honey, play with mommy's titties." As she panted out her instructions, she began to shift her thighs around my cock trapped between them.

It was only then I realized how passive I was being, merely laying back and accepting what was happening as if not taking part would somehow lessen my sins, but I knew better; I was damned already, I may as well enjoy the fall. I gave her tits a squeeze, marveling at their soft warmth and pulling them this way and that. Mom moaned, peppering my neck with kisses, "That's it baby, play with my nipples too…"

As I took her advice, moving my left hand from aimless groping to specifically rubbing and lightly pinching her nipples, she raised her hips and slowly ran one hand down from my chest until she was pawing at my cock. I took advantage of her changed posture to lift one of her breasts to my face, taking her nipple in my mouth and beginning to lick. She made a strange sound between a moan and a laugh, "Mmm, seems my baby still wants his mommy's milk, hehehe…"

Finally, her questing fingers aligned my cock just right, and my eyes widened as I felt her moist lower lips teasing my tip. A flicker of trepidation passed through me before I reminded myself I had already left the point of no return in the rearview; with my resolve -and dick- hardened, I didn't wait for mom to drop her hips, grabbing her ass with my free hand and slamming upwards to meet her instead.

"Woah-ho-ho! Mmm, that's right baby, I like seeing you show some initiative!" She matched my thrust, riding me down as my hips fell back to the bed and quickly helping set a proper rhythm. My attempt to take control didn't last long, the velvety tightness gripping every inch of my cock quickly robbing me of coherent thought. With mom whispering encouragements that chipped away at my soul in a breathy moan, slamming her ass down to meet my thrusts with a wet clap as her internal muscles gripped me as tight as they could, my second shot of the night came upon me quickly.

I tried to warn her, vaguely pushing at her hips and crying out, "M-mom! I-I'm gonna-" She cut me off with a long kiss, slamming her hips down even faster.

Her lips slid off of mine, trailing licks and kisses across my face to my ear as she overtook my prior pace. "Go ahead baby! Inside! Cum inside!" I groaned, letting my concerns fall between the cracks in my conscience and speeding up my flagging thrusts to match mom's enthusiastic pace.

With one last powerful thrust so deep it kissed her womb, I gave up any attempt to hold back and unleashed my seed with a moan. A moan that mom matched, her back arching enough to pull her nipple from my mouth just as a jet of warm liquid sprayed out from it. Rope after rope poured from my dick, painting her pussy white as milk sprayed all over my chest and face.

Mom collapsed forward, her breasts squishing against my chest as they slowly stopped leaking. I panted heavily, sweat and milk making the bed somewhat uncomfortably sticky, but it was still warm enough to not be immediately off putting. I ran my hands down mom's back, staring up at the ceiling as a sense of very unwelcome clarity slowly settled over me.

I had just fucked my own mom. The power I made a sketchy deal for has very clearly altered her mind and body to make her lust for me, and has likely done something similar to me if my increased dick size is anything to go by. My power pits me against people in gruesome death matches and rewards me with power and sex, and has clearly shown the ability to alter minds. The conclusion was obvious; my powers were corrupting me and would continue to do so as I used them, and if I stopped using them I'd suffer the wrath of a person or organization that can give people powers.

Mom slowly came down from her apparent high, shifting her head to begin lightly kissing my neck. She licked my ear, whispering breathily into it, "Mmm~ I love you so much baby." I allowed a grin to spread across my face, letting my soul sink completely into the oily darkness in the back of my mind; my stroking hands moved down, gripping her plush ass, spreading her cheeks, and releasing then to clap together. Mom started, then giggled, "Hmmm, baby… you're still hard? Mmm… Momma's a little tired, why don't you just roll me over and you set the pace."

I used my grip on her ass to shift her up until her tits were in my face, shaking my head back and forth and enjoying their soft weight for a moment before heeding her advice. I flipped her over, watching her tits jiggle from side to side as she rolled in aroused amusement. I stood up from the bed, flexing slightly to shake off the wet blanket trying to cling to my back before moving over to where mom lay; she obligingly spread her legs, smiling over the swell of her breasts around thoroughly mussed up hair. I grabbed her by the waist, sliding her forward until her ass rested on the edge of the bed.

Mom settled her legs on my shoulders as lined my cock up with her slit, and I responded by trailing kisses along her now slightly toned but still decidedly thicc calves. It took me slightly longer than I felt reasonable -enough I almost started getting embarrassed- but I eventually managed to slide home between her pillowy thighs. In and out, in and out, I lost myself in the rhythm, letting her warm, wet core sooth away the faint burning in my soul.

I leaned forward, taking a nipple in my mouth and squeezing the other with my hand as mom wrapped her legs loosely around my back. Two orgasms in, I managed to hold out much longer; writhing together with mom, feeling her soft skin on mine. Before long, a small amount of milk began to flow under my tongue's playful ministrations; a dozen thrusts later, mom gave a breathy moan and her milk began to flow in earnest. She tasted sweet (far more so than I thought she should've, but I chocked that up to my power's influence) and her milk was rich and creamy enough to put any cow to shame.

Fitting that the rewards of damnation tasted so sweet, I'd have been disappointed if it was less than delicious.

I grinned around her nipple, meeting her hazy, pleasure filled eyes as my third orgasm came upon me, "I love you mom, I'll love you forever… you're mine forever." I whispered the last part, fully embracing my fate and feeling the embers of a dark fire spark into roaring life within me as I did. She moaned at my words, hands running through my hair and pushing my head back into her boobs as she came beneath me. After a few more deep and fast thrusts, I buried myself to the hilt and flooded her womb once more.

Spent, I allowed my arms to give out and simply lay atop mom's soft body, listening to her breathe as I slowly softened inside her. She ran her hands along my back, gently massaging me as we lay together; each too tired and comfortable to get up, content to just enjoy the aftermath together. I don't know how long we lay together like that, just cuddling and enjoying one another's warmth; long enough that the light of the setting sun began streamed through the window, and the wet sheets began to get cold at least.

Eventually, mom let out a groan and pushed lightly at my shoulders. I grumbled slightly, but lifted my head from the best pillows I'd ever laid on and met her glittering eyes. "Mmm, much as I'd love to lay here with you all day, we'd better get your bedding in the wash if you wanna sleep comfortably tonight…" She trailed off, bringing a green-nailed finger up to tap her lips and slowly allowing a smile to form under her half-lidded eyes, "Although… you could just sleep in my room, now."

I smiled back at her, rolling off her after giving her nipples another kiss each. I eventually managed to tear my eyes away from her glistening skin to look around my room, taking in the innumerable iterations of All Might grinning back at me. His gaze felt judgmental now, accusing and disdainful; I turned my eyes away, meeting mom's eyes once more. "I think I'll take you up on that."

She laughed tiredly, swatting me playfully on the shoulder before -with visible effort and shaking arms- pushing herself up to a seated position. Her feet hit the carpet and, with much shaking and swaying, she slowly pushed herself to her feet… only to immediately fall back onto the bed the moment she actually tried to stand. "Oof, my legs feel like jelly, honey! You may have to help momma to her bed."

I chuckled, rising to my feet with only slightly unsteady legs. For a moment, I simply stared at mom, taking in the way her green hair formed a small halo around her head, watching the rise and fall of her huge breasts with her every breath, and the slow leak of our mixed fluids from her pussy. This was the reward my power gave me for playing along, the benefits that sang to me in a voice like honeyed gold; the power to be a hero, a guarantee that I'll never be lonely again, a path to wealth enough to never go hungry again, everything I'd ever wanted and more… all at the low cost of abandoning my morals, and tainting my dream forever.

Mom smiled at me as I raised my eyes back up to meet hers, and I smiled back, "I love you mom." There was no way to step back, no chance to undo what I'd done; my soul is lost, but that doesn't mean I can't still be a hero! Even if my power twists people's minds and makes them love me, I'll just have to take responsibility and make sure they live the best lives I can give them; and I'll use their power to save people, so their sacrifice is not in vain!

A heavy blush spread across her pale skin as she smiled back at me, warmth radiating from her eyes. "Ah, I love you too honey. Now help me up, would you dear?" So saying, she raised her arms out towards me

I grabbed her hands, pulling her up to her feet with a grunt. She leaned heavily on me as I slowly helped her walk to her room, though part of me suspected she was overplaying just how tired she was in order to press her boobs against my side. I didn't mind either way, the soft pressure on my side was more than welcome; my mind was more focused on other things, anyway.

Mainly, plans for the future; plans, like who to target next. What quirks would be the most useful to me, heroes, villains, and civilians alike could all have extremely useful powers. Of course, I also needed to consider not just which heroes were nearby enough to reasonably run into, but which order to challenge them; at present, I had one rather weak quirk (though, given what that cage match displayed, it might be stronger than I thought) and the body of a mildly adventurous nerd, most professional heroes would fold me like a paper towel in a straight fight. Some heroes (or villains, or vigilantes, or… people with useful powers in general really. Hmm, I might need to look into new terms) I could reasonably take out if I took them by surprise and was armed, but without knowing for sure what each challenge would be I couldn't know how viable that would be.

As I opened the door to mom's bedroom, I settled on simply gathering information; I'd challenge anyone I saw with a remotely useful power, and try to create an order of attack for priority targets once I know what I'm dealing with and have more powers. Some easier to attain powers might make otherwise very difficult or outright impossible challenges much easier, after all.

I can't deny that a wispy, smokey little voice in my head urged me to target Katsuki's first, a sick little piece of me whispering how nice it would be to have my old friend twisted to my will. Unlike before, I didn't dismiss this shadowy little voice, but I didn't heed its desires either; not right away, anyway. Despite my encouraging showing earlier, I had absolutely zero illusions about my ability to take on Katsuki without a gun.

I shook my head, giving mom a kiss on the cheek and putting bad memories out of my mind. I helped her get into bed, and she pulled me down next to her before I could pull back. With a chuckle, I settled into cuddling her incredibly soft body under the covers, and letting my fears and plans fade into the darkness of sleep.

I dreamt of an endless void, filled with a keening wail in a trillion voices, in a trillion different wavelengths. The wailing only went one way, racing off into the suffocating darkness and getting nothing in return. Eventually, shortly before the morning light began to burn away the dark and pull me from my rest, the wailing trailed off into the unmistakable sound of quiet sobbing.

I blinked awake the next morning, shaking off a foreign feeling of crushing loneliness that felt uncomfortably familiar.