The Symbol of Hope.
That was the name once given to All Might—Japan's number one hero, the man who stood as a living pillar of strength. His very presence kept most villains at bay; his smile alone carried a promise that everything would be all right.
And now, that same figure stood before Mewtwo.
But something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"Nothing is fine… because I'm here."
The words hit like a punch to the chest—the twisted inversion of All Might's famous line. His expression, too, was distorted. The reassuring grin that once inspired peace was now stretched into a manic, hollow smirk. His eyes were sunken, his posture monstrous.
This was not the Symbol of Hope. This was the nightmare's mockery of him—AlterMight.
Even so, Mewtwo's instincts screamed danger. He knew exactly where he stood in comparison. Against the true All Might, he wouldn't stand a chance. Not yet. He was strong—but not that strong. And if this nightmare had recreated even a fraction of that man's power, he was in serious trouble.
His mind raced. Could I send Emi away? If she woke up, maybe it would pull him out too. But then he remembered—she forgot everything once she woke up. She wouldn't even know to try and wake him. Still, if she was gone, at least she'd be safe. Right now, having her nearby was a liability. Protecting her could easily get him killed.
Decision made, Mewtwo took a steady breath and focused. He activated Laser Focus and Calm Mind simultaneously.
In an instant, his thoughts sharpened. His energy stabilized. Every sense heightened.
Without hesitation, he launched a barrage of Swift attacks—dozens of glowing stars filling the air. The projectiles shot toward AlterMight like a storm, forcing the twisted hero to counter.
To Mewtwo's shock, the figure didn't dodge. He punched them. Each one. Over fifty energy blasts shattered midair under the weight of raw power, the shockwaves cracking the walls around them.
Unbelievable, Mewtwo thought, repositioning above his opponent. He began charging a Shadow Ball, dark energy swirling in his hands.
At the same time, he reached out with telekinesis, grabbed Emi, and hurled her toward the door.
The moment she crossed it, she vanished. Her psychic presence vanished with her. The link was gone—proof she was finally free from the dream.
But Mewtwo didn't have a second to breathe.
In the blink of an eye, AlterMight was already behind him. Even with Agility active, the nightmare version was faster—far faster.
Mewtwo barely managed to release the Shadow Ball before a colossal punch came his way. The blast hit AlterMight dead-on, but the hero didn't even slow down.
Mewtwo had no choice. In a single burst of motion, he layered three abilities—Iron Tail, Mega Punch, and Mega Kick—all aimed to meet the incoming blow.
The collision shook the entire dream world. The force tore through the air like an explosion. Mewtwo strained with everything he had, psychic energy flaring violently around him. But it wasn't enough.
The impact sent him flying, crashing through the walls like a cannonball. He slammed into the far side of the house—straight into the kitchen—leaving cracks spiderwebbing through the floor beneath him.
For the first time in a long while, Mewtwo actually felt pain.
Breathing heavily, Mewtwo steadied himself. His chest heaved, his mind racing as he tried to draw out every last bit of power. Closing his eyes for half a second, he used Calm Mind again. Psychic energy pulsed through his body, but he could feel it—he was getting close to his limit.
He couldn't stack the boost forever. His body wasn't built for infinite amplification.
There was one more technique he could use—his strongest card: Foul Play. It let him turn his opponent's physical strength against them, using their own power as his weapon. But that move was risky—too risky. Against someone like All Might, whose raw strength was legendary, Mewtwo knew the recoil could destroy him. If his body couldn't handle it, the backlash alone could shatter his arm—or worse.
No, he needed an opening first. One, maybe two clean chances. That was all he'd get.
And besides, this was still a dream world. There had to be something about the environment he could exploit—some rule, some trick. He just needed a moment to think—
But that moment never came.
AlterMight appeared again, dropping from above like a hammer, silent and mechanical. There was no battle cry, no attack name—just relentless, inhuman precision.
Mewtwo twisted aside, using his psychic powers to spin through the air, barely dodging the barrage of punches. Then, just in time, he summoned a shimmering field around himself—Reflect. A thin, glowing film enveloped his body, cutting all incoming physical damage in half.
It helped—but not enough.
All Might's blows still hit like meteors. Even halved, they could pulverize steel. The shield would hold for only eight strikes before collapsing—and then Mewtwo would be back to square one or worse.
I need a way to hold my own, he thought desperately, deflecting another punch with his tail. Some way to level the field.
But AlterMight was too fast. Each attack came faster than the last. Eight blows—eight deafening impacts—crashed against him before he could counter. The final one sent him flying through the kitchen wall, through the dining room, through everything, until he smashed into the backyard.
He hovered a few inches above the cracked ground, gasping for breath. Pain pulsed through his body, but his mind stayed sharp.
He had one advantage—one that mattered.
He could fly.
All Might could jump higher and faster than any human alive, but sustained flight? That wasn't his domain. In the air, Mewtwo could maneuver freely, control the battle on his own terms.
With that realization, he ignored the broken bones and rocketed upward, activating Agility again. His speed doubled. The wind screamed past him as he rose into the dark, dream-sky.
But the reprieve didn't last.
A sudden blur appeared beside him—AlterMight again. Even now, he could match Mewtwo's flight speed, leaping through the air as if gravity didn't exist.
Mewtwo dodged just in time. The shockwave from the missed punch still rocked him, his body already aching from the earlier hits. Even with his defenses boosted, every movement sent sharp pain through his limbs.
He countered fast—Confusion, fired repeatedly, waves of psychic pressure slamming into AlterMight's head.
For the first time, the nightmare faltered. The twisted hero landed heavily on the ground, staggering slightly, his movements erratic. His glowing eyes darted in every direction, struggling to lock onto Mewtwo's position.
It wasn't much—but it was the first opening Mewtwo had earned.
What do I do now…?
Mewtwo's mind raced. AlterMight stood by the front door, blocking his only escape route. In a way, it was both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because it gave him a moment to breathe, to plan, but a curse because it killed his chance of fleeing altogether.
He took a sharp breath, ready to form a new strategy—
—and then his instincts screamed.
In a blink, he darted to the side. A bullet sliced through the air where his head had been. The shot was so fast, he barely saw it. His eyes followed the trajectory—and his stomach dropped.
Standing on a nearby rooftop, rifle raised, was Lady Nagant.
But not the one he knew. This was her nightmare counterpart—eyes empty, movements mechanical, face twisted into something cold and lifeless.
Great… an Alter version of her too, he thought grimly.
Before he could react, something slammed into him from above. The impact sent him crashing toward the ground at breakneck speed. As he twisted midair, he caught flashes of red feathers and dragon scales—Hawks and Ryukyu, diving at him together.
He barely managed to throw up a psychic counter before he hit the ground—only to feel it tighten around him.
Dozens of threads whipped from every direction, wrapping his limbs, neck, and torso, pinning him hard to the floor. He knew that Quirk—Best Jeanist.
They're all here…
The air around him grew hotter—too hot. His skin began to burn, the air itself searing his lungs. He didn't even need to look to know who was coming next. The oppressive heat could only belong to Endeavor.
And he wasn't alone.
Mewtwo slowly lifted his head, his glowing eyes darting from face to face. The entire area was filled with heroes—Japan's top twenty, encircling him like predators closing in on their prey. He recognized them all. And worse—he saw familiar faces among them.
His classmates.
The strongest from Class 1-A and 1-B—Mirio, Tamaki, Nejire, and several others—stood shoulder to shoulder with the pros, their expressions cold, unrecognizable.
Twenty… maybe thirty in total. Each one capable of leveling a city block on their own.
A single breath escaped his lips. There's no way I can fight them all.
This wasn't part of Emi's description. The dream was never supposed to do this. The Symbol of Fear's pattern was clear—one escalating nightmare, one final monster, and then escape. But this—this was something else.
And then he saw it.
Behind AlterMight—just past the twisted form of the number one hero—was a shape. A shadow. It shimmered faintly, like a blur at the edge of vision, impossible to focus on. But he didn't need to. He knew.
That presence—cold, deliberate, amused.
It was him.
The Symbol of Fear.
He was here.
Watching.
Whether out of curiosity or fury, Mewtwo couldn't tell. Maybe the nightmare wanted to see what would happen when another mind invaded its world. Maybe it wanted to punish him for intruding.
Either way, it didn't matter.
Mewtwo was surrounded.
Outnumbered thirty to one.
And for the first time in years—he didn't see a way out
'This makes no sense… is this how it ends?'
Mewtwo's thoughts were spinning out of control. None of this followed logic—none of it followed the nightmare's usual structure. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this. Not surrounded, not trapped, not helpless.
But there was one thing left—one single possibility.
He remembered it from before—back when he'd descended into the depths of his own consciousness. In that strange realm, he had faced himself. His ideal form: stronger, calmer, wiser. A reflection of what he could become.
This wasn't his dream, but dreams were still part of the mind. And the mind—that was his domain.
"I can't do this alone," he muttered under his breath. "Come here… I know you'll find the way I can't."
He reached inward, calling to that presence—the other him. The perfected version he'd met once before.
But there was no answer. No voice, no movement, just… silence.
The psychic world inside him felt sealed.
Then—a pulse.
A faint vibration ran along his neck, almost like a whisper brushing against his skin. In that instant, a memory flashed through his thoughts—his other self's words, quiet but absolute:
"We are one."
Mewtwo's body relaxed. Slowly, deliberately, he closed his eyes.
The chaos around him faded—the noise of the heroes, the heat, the movement—all melted into stillness.
Then, his eyes opened again.
The familiar blue glow of his psychic energy burned brighter than ever, sharp and unwavering, like the surface of a star. His expression changed—not the usual tense focus, but something deeper, more grounded.
"I see…" he whispered, his tone carrying a faint edge of irony. "So cliché."
He lifted one hand and summoned a soft, radiant mist that surrounded him. The light shimmered in delicate ripples, washing over his bruised body.
Life Dew.
The air filled with psychic water, cool and luminous. His wounds began to close, his breath steadied, and his energy returned in waves.
The battlefield—once suffocating—felt just a little lighter.