I just started the prep course at my college run by the upperclassmen (they're going to give us like a summary of the whole course in 5 days) and damn, I'm destroyed. I barely wrote anything on the bus on the first day, I just wanted to get home and pass out, but I think I'm already getting used to it.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs, and this is my first fanfic. English is my second language. I welcome constructive criticism, but please be kind to me!
֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎֎
3rd Person POV
In a somewhat hidden bar on the outskirts of Musutafu, a party was underway.
Many excited people drinking more than they should, talking louder than was prudent. It wasn't a regular bar, it was the kind of establishment where minor villains and criminals mingled, made contacts, and celebrated successful jobs without worrying about who was listening.
Judging by the level of excitement, several of them must have had a very profitable day.
Atsuhiro Sako, better known as Mr. Compress, was one of them. He had recently completed a considerable heist. But unlike the others celebrating loudly, gesturing with full glasses and recounting exploits to anyone who would listen, he sat in a quiet corner with his drink, observing the scene with the bored expression of someone who had seen it all before.
Those who eat quietly always eat.
It was a saying he took seriously. The show was for the crime itself, the elegance of the execution, the confusion of the victims, the flawless escape that left everyone wondering how it happened.
That was art.
Staying in a criminals' bar flaunting what he had earned? That was amateurish.
Being a descendant of one of history's greatest thieves had its advantages, among them knowing exactly when not to draw attention.
Amid the chaos, something caught his attention.
A young man in tactical clothing had entered the bar. He didn't look like a villain or a criminal, at least not the type that frequented that establishment. He walked straight to the counter with the calm of someone who knew exactly where he was going.
Mr. Compress didn't move. He just watched.
"New here, young man?"
"Yes, sir. I came looking for someone to hire." The young man replied without hesitation.
"And what do you need?" The bartender leaned slightly forward, his sinister smile testing him. "Drugs? Women? Someone who needs a scare… or to be permanently silenced? I know a lot of people here. I can point you to whoever can best help you,for the right price, of course."
The young man didn't blink. He kept that calm little smile on his face.
The bartender waited. The young man waited too.
The party continued around them, shouts, laughter, glasses clinking, but between the two there was that specific kind of silence that exists when two people are sizing each other up.
Then the bartender laughed.
"Hahaha! I wanted to scare you a bit, kid. Thought you were just some lost rich boy. I was wrong." His tone changed, more direct now. "How can I really help you?"
"My good man, I want to hire the most skilled person you know in the art of theft and escapism."
"Oh." The bartender gave a discreet look around the bar without pointing anywhere. "I have the right man for your case."
The young man nodded and discreetly placed a small gold bar on the counter, positioning his hand so only the bartender could see.
Or at least that's what he thought.
From his corner near the counter, Mr. Compress had heard every word. The environment was noisy, yes, but he had spent years learning to isolate conversations amid the chaos. It was a skill as important as any other in his trade.
'Theft and escapism. Interesting.'
The bartender's eyes widened at the sight of the gold. He quickly composed himself and gave a small laugh. He leaned in to grab a glass, the young man leaned in too, and their heads stayed close for a second, long enough for information to pass.
Mr. Compress watched the exchange with growing amusement. Efficient. Discreet. But not discreet enough.
The young man straightened up with a glass of milk in his hand.
Milk.
Mr. Compress almost smiled for real.
The young man left the counter heading toward his table and was intercepted by a visibly drunk man who had just noticed the glass.
"HAHAHAHA!" The laugh drew the attention of at least a dozen people around. "What is a boy who still drinks milk doing here?!"
Some heads turned. The bartender stopped cleaning the counter. Even Mr. Compress sat up a little straighter in his chair, curious to see what would happen next.
"I'm just passing through, sir. No need to mind me." The young man said, smile still in place.
"Oh really?" The drunk took a step forward, puffing out his chest. "Mommy's boy thinks he can enter an adult place and leave unscathed?" He glanced at the people around, seeking approval for his own joke. "Does your mother know you left home so late, little boy? Or did you run away from your babysitter?"
Some scattered laughter. The drunk got excited.
"You know what happens to little boys who go where they're not welcome?"
Mr. Compress rested his chin on his hand, now genuinely curious.
'Let's see how you handle this, young man.'
"Would you show me, sir?"
The drunk blinked. Some people around him did too.
'Is this kid serious?'
It was the general thought of genuine confusion. What kind of person doesn't understand what's about to happen?
"HAHAHAHA!" The drunk doubled over laughing, slapping his own thigh. "Don't worry, kid, you're actually fun! I'll make sure not to break any bones, okay?"
"You're very kind, sir. I won't break yours either."
Some people around felt something they hadn't felt in a long time in a bar like that, sympathy. Such a pure soul was going to suffer. Some even thought about intervening.
Then they thought better. 'I'm a villain. Why get involved in an unnecessary fight? What if the drunk has friends?'
Criminal logic prevailed.
"WHAT A RARE GEM!!!"
The punch came without warning. One moment the drunk was relaxed and laughing, the next his fist was already on its way to the young man's face. Too fast to be just reflexes. Clearly his Quirk.
The young man dodged with a minimal movement, as if the punch had simply chosen not to hit.
And then, with disturbing casualness, without apparent speed or visible effort, he touched the drunk's throat with two fingers.
"Guak-"
What followed was methodical.
First, the elbow found the solar plexus. Slowly, almost pedagogical, as if showing the move to an audience. The air left the drunk's lungs in one dry blow.
The fingers followed, pressing the nerves in the neck. Still at the same pace, still with time for anyone to follow. A tingling rose up the man's right arm, which could no longer close his hand.
That's when the young man accelerated.
The knee hit the thigh before the tingling reached the shoulder. The leg gave out. Precise pressure behind the left knee removed the rest of the balance that remained, and the drunk's body was already falling when the open palm struck the ear, the sound came delayed, as if the air itself couldn't keep up.
The wrist was the final stop, too fast to be seen, only felt, a burst of pain that ensured the fingers wouldn't obey anytime soon.
No bones broken. No permanent damage.
Just pain. A lot of pain. In very specific places, delivered in a crescendo that no one in the bar could follow until the end.
In that part of the bar, everyone had already stopped doing anything else.
A pure soul? The collective thought had completely changed. This is a wolf in sheep's clothing.
The young man took a sip from his glass of milk.
The drunk collapsed to the floor with a heavy, wet thud.
"*Thud*"
He lay there, all purple and swollen, nose bleeding, lip split, eyes involuntarily watering, a trickle of blood running from one ear. Completely unconscious. He wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.
The bar fell silent for some seconds.
Then someone in the back clapped once. Then another person. A laugh here, a whistle there. And with the same naturalness with which they had stopped, everyone went back to what they were doing before, as if a quick fight was just another item on the night's menu.
The bartender went back to cleaning the counter.
Only Mr. Compress didn't return to what he was doing before.
He kept looking at the young man with an expression that, for the first time that night, wasn't bored.
'He really is something, huh?'
The young man approached Mr. Compress more and more and then introduced himself.
"Hello, you're Mr. Compress, right? I'd like a few minutes of your time to discuss something." The young man said as if no fight had happened before, he wasn't even sweating.
"Oh, and what would that something be?" Mr. Compress asked, taking a sip of his beer.
The young man also took a long sip of the milk he was holding, almost making Mr. Compress spit out his beer from the contrast of what had just happened.
"I thought you were listening to everything?" The young man asked, pretending to be confused, a pretense that wasn't meant to fool anyone, it was more of a joke than anything else.
Mr. Compress then straightened up more and spoke.
"Hm, interesting, I was caught, I admit. But why would you hire me? To teach you my trade?" He was genuinely interested now. At least in combat, the boy was one of the best he had ever seen. The way he handled the drunk was precise and fast, without actually killing him or breaking his bones. If that had happened, there could have been some problems with the bar.
No one wants to deal with a random client in a bar like this, and if he had broken something, there should be someone to take him to the doctor. They wouldn't want anyone dying inside, if they wanted to kill each other, they should go to some underground ring.
But in this bar, it could attract unwanted attention.
"Actually, I'd like to hire you for a team I'm putting together. There are certain talented and somewhat eccentric people, like yourself." The young man said, taking another long sip of milk, as if the proposal was no big deal.
"And what would I do on this team?" He was interested, but he wouldn't join a team without knowing the purpose. He had seen too many people promise partnership and disappear with his share of the profit.
"Well, it's not a supervillain team to go committing crime after crime, but a versatile group, ready for any kind of job that comes up." Max knew that at their current level, they wouldn't be much help against bigger threats. They would still need training, and perhaps even extra powers. Even so, it would take time before they reached a truly impressive level.
"I thought we'd be stealing something or whatever, but I accept…" He said, his voice coming out excited from behind the balaclava.
It was strange, because the Voice of All Things had told Max the opposite.
"Welcome to the team, then-" Before Max could finish speaking, Mr. Compress cut him off.
"…If you can catch me first, hahahaha!" He gave a sudden laugh and threw a smoke bomb on the floor.
Max was somewhat incredulous. He thought that wasn't very in character for Mr. Compress. Maybe he was already drunk and just wanted some excitement.
Max then turned to the counter and asked.
"Did he pay for his beer?"
And the bartender answered with a laugh.
"Hahaha, go after him, kid!"
With that, Max took one last sip of the glass of milk and teleported, beginning the chase.
…..
Mr. Compress was running across the rooftops. When he looked down and didn't see the young man behind him, he felt a little disappointed.
He was the master of escapism. How could a young man, even with a good physique, find him? He thought the boy's combat prowess might extend to other areas.
But suddenly, as he began to slow down, his instincts told him to look up.
Then he saw it, the young man flying, a blue streak following behind him.
It was Max, flying using Lucius's telekinesis combined with Turbo. In truth, it was more floating than flying, since true flight would require much more effort.
He had teleported as high as he could and followed the trail of the Voice of All Things to locate Mr. Compress quickly, who was already more than 1 km away. How had someone whose Quirk compressed things into marble-sized balls managed to get so far in just seconds?
That was something only the fact that he was in a fictional world could explain. Max knew that from the moment he woke up in the Invincible universe, things would no longer be the same, and that this kind of strength, something like "The indifferent cruelty of the universe VS the indomitable human spirit" would lead people to accomplish impossible feats more frequently.
'Interesting, so he can fly. At this rate, he'll catch me quickly. In that case, I need to set the pace.' Mr. Compress thought as he changed strategy. Instead of continuing across the rooftops, he started jumping from alley to alley to confuse the young man pursuing him. Not long after, he had already lost sight of Max.
'How are you going to get around this, kid?' Mr. Compress wasn't actually that interested in joining a team, but he had accepted the condition that the young man had to catch him in this game of tag. Maybe it was because he was drunk, maybe because he liked the kid's attitude, or both. It didn't matter.
He had great confidence in the techniques and tricks he had learned in the past. Calling them "tricks" would even be an understatement, but that didn't bother him.
Max, who was in pursuit, reached the top of a building and continued jumping from rooftop to rooftop using Turbo. He could no longer see Mr. Compress. The villain was very skilled at hiding, especially using dark alleys.
He had to trust the Voice of All Things, which gave him an approximate location.
'I think in the future I'll focus more on training the Voice of All Things. It's an excellent power for quickly discovering clues.' He wondered if, over time, this power would become similar to Rimuru Tempest's Great Sage.
Every time he got close, he discovered that Mr. Compress had already taken a shortcut and changed direction. This happened several times.
'Damn, it seems like he's always at the same distance. He must know this area very well.' Max decided to end it. He had more things to do that night, if it took too long, he might not have enough strength for the battle he was planning.
Without wasting any more time, Max decided it was time to end the chase.
As soon as he asked the Voice of All Things to indicate Mr. Compress's position in a straight line, and as soon as he knew where he was, he leaned over the edge of a building and, with Turbo activated, threw himself toward the target like a blue arrow. When he was about to collide with a building, he activated Permeation and passed straight through several different rooms, crossing the walls as if they didn't exist.
With the speed Turbo provided, he landed violently in front of Mr. Compress, opening a small crater in the alley floor. The villain instinctively took a step back, eyes wide, body tense, the kind of reaction that only appears when someone realizes, too late, that they had been playing with fire the whole time.
'Does this young man possess multiple Quirks? How did he manage to do that?' Mr. Compress felt a shiver run down his spine. The only one he knew who could accumulate multiple Quirks was the former boss of Japan's underworld, but reliable rumors said he had died some time ago.
And this young man didn't seem connected to that boss either. The method was completely different, and the young man himself didn't have, in any way, the posture of a villain or criminal who would mix with him.
'It seems those articles about Quirks evolving and becoming more powerful and dangerous were the pure truth, after all.' He and many others had already expected this, but seeing it up close was different. He really felt like following the powerful young man in front of him now.
"I give up, I give up. It looks like you have some tricks up your sleeve after all, kid." He decided not to comment on the new power he had just seen, since the young man had accepted joining the team. Eventually he would know the extent of his powers anyway. He had the patience for that.
"Welcome to the team, then! You can call me Max!" With a handshake, Max and Mr. Compress sealed the contract.
…..
Hosu, Tokyo, Japan
Max was finally in another city. He had spent all this time in Musutafu.
He only realized it there, what was with the names of these cities? Musutafu, Hosu… they sounded like Mustafar and Hoth. He vaguely remembered that the author of BNHA liked Star Wars, but he had never noticed the city names before.
He spent the rest of the night looking for Dabi. Nano couldn't help this time due to the lack of cameras in the area. Dabi also had no fixed point or place he usually visited, he just wandered around, burning things and, occasionally, people.
Not many, since he didn't want to draw attention. He still needed to train his own flames to get revenge, and that would go down the drain if he wasn't strong enough when the time came.
Max was relying solely on the Voice of All Things now, hoping that by chance he would find the stitched man. Which ended up proving correct.
'A presence ahead… contained, but barely. Repressed fire like a dam about to burst. No heat in him, just the memory of something that once burned for a reason, now burning just to keep burning. Pain buried so deep it stopped being registered as pain. This one forgot what it's like not to be in agony.'
That caught Max's attention.
'Damn, I was expecting something like that, but… wow.' Max didn't plan to hire Dabi now, he was still too stuck on the path of revenge. It was more to put a bit of sense into him.
Why destroy your own body to get revenge on someone? Good revenge is when you show you're above your target.
Revenge that destroys your own body to be achieved isn't worth it. In the original, he exposed his father as the abuser he was, but to do that, he destroyed any possibility of a future he had and continued on the path of destroying his own body to become more powerful than his father had molded him to be.
Max still intended, eventually, to bring Dabi into the team, but only if something he couldn't control happened. If Dabi stopped walking the path of self-destruction and started walking the path of genuine revenge.
Max also didn't like Endeavor. Everything he did was forgotten and forgiven too quickly. He wasn't against forgiveness itself, but forgiving and continuing with the person by your side weren't the same thing.
There needed to be consequences. But what consequences did Endeavor face, other than becoming sad upon realizing his own mistakes? That was one of the parts that bothered him most about the story's direction.
He headed to where the Voice of All Things pointed.
Then he saw Dabi. He was in what remained of an industrial warehouse abandoned for years. The partially collapsed roof let in only threads of moonlight, cut by smoke. Soot marks covered the cracked concrete walls, scars from other nights like this. In the center, small pools of blue fire slowly extinguished on the floor, remnants of a training session that had gone too far, or maybe not far enough, by his standards.
Then Dabi heard the sound of something falling behind him. He turned quickly, composed himself, and then saw a young man in tactical clothing.
Max had abandoned his HEV Suit some time ago. That was more for if something went wrong while rescuing Eri. Now he used less suit support and more his own strength, as part of the training.
"Hello, Dabi! I was looking for you!" Max said, smiling excitedly.
To which Dabi replied, seriously:
"Who are you?! What do you want with me, and how did you find me here?!" He didn't really seem to want to know the first part, only how he had been found.
He was already preparing to attack anyway.
"I was looking for you to put some sense into that head of yours, Toya Todoroki!" Max said, destabilizing Dabi, who hadn't expected anyone to be able to say his real identity.
How did this young man know that, if even his own family thought he was dead? The only one who knew was the man who had saved him, but Dabi didn't trust that man and had rejected his attempts to help him with body modifications. The man had even said that without the modifications, Dabi would die soon. But he survived by the sheer force of the hatred he felt for his father.
'This guy needs to die… now!' Dabi thought, and immediately launched his flames at Max.
"Damn, what a hothead. I'm a good listener, why don't you vent some of that anger toward your daddy?" Max wasn't taking him seriously, which enraged Dabi even more.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" He began to increase the temperature. Max was dodging with surprising speed, without effort.
This continued for a while.
Dabi tried several different methods.
He tried concentrating the flames. He tried tricking Max, luring him into a trap. He tried changing angles, even making his own flames change direction mid-air. He burned the entire floor, turned the fire into balls and launched them indiscriminately.
But the bastard dodged everything, still making unfunny jokes.
That was a huge insult to Dabi. Everything he had gone through, everything his father had forced him to do to try to surpass him, and none of it even scratched the clown in front of him.
The anger was already pushing him to the limit of his own Quirk.
The heat was starting to rise when suddenly Max seemed to make a mistake.
"GOT YOU!!!" Dabi became excited at being able to catch that annoying young man.
He increased the temperature to the maximum he could handle, until his own body began to give out. He didn't need to go that far, but the anger blinded him.
After a while, Dabi stopped. A wave of heat emanated from his dried body, smoke escaping from his mouth. He stood somewhat paralyzed, staring into nothing, remembering his family and the man he hated, the man who had destroyed his life.
For a moment, it wasn't an abandoned warehouse in Hosu. It was the living room of the house he barely recognized as his, the smell of food his mother used to make before everything fell apart, his father's voice echoing orders disguised as training, Natsuo moving further away, Fuyumi trying to hold together the pieces of a family that no longer existed. And above all, that heat, not the heat of his own flames, but the heat of a training furnace that should never have existed for a child.
The image disappeared as quickly as it came. Only the smell of smoke and the bitter taste remained.
"Damn! That was refreshing, it felt like a super sauna!" Said an excited voice, emerging from the smoke where Dabi believed he had cremated the young man who knew his identity.
Dabi stood stunned in place. He was already numb inside, but even so, incredulous, not even his most powerful flames had managed to cremate that boy.
The truth is that Max had used Energy Catalyst, a Quirk copied from one of the U.A. students, capable of absorbing kinetic, thermal, or electrical energy from nearby sources and converting it into pure energy blasts, or storing it to enhance strength, speed, and endurance.
If the original student had been in his place, he would have exploded and died almost instantly, and even if he managed to release the accumulated energy, he wouldn't be fast enough to avoid his own collapse. The difference is that Max's body can accumulate much more power than the original student's, plus the fact that Copy levels any copied Quirk to the user's own power level, even if the original Quirk was, on its own, much more limited.
Max now felt he had energy to spare. His clothes had been vaporized, but, still covered by the smoke, he quickly changed into an identical set, just to farm aura. Appearing naked there would completely break the mood.
"H-how d-did you do that?" Dabi had difficulty speaking. After exceeding his own limits, his body wasn't responding properly.
"I have mysterious means." Max said, approaching.
"Don't worry, I didn't come to interfere with your revenge. I came to give you some light." He stood face to face with Dabi.
"So you really plan to destroy your own body to get revenge on your father? Like, you never thought about approaching your family and living a better life, exposing what he did to a child?" He spoke more seriously now, without the playful tone from before.
"And what else am I supposed to do?! Besides being practically a walking disfigured zombie, what else do I have left?! Go talk to the police about what he did?! The Hero Public Safety Commission will find a way to cover it up, like they always do, or they might even kill me and fake it as suicide!!!" Dabi said angrily. He wasn't entirely wrong.
The Hero Public Safety Commission kept society safe, but, more than that, it also served its own interests, which, in practice, were the interests of whoever was in charge. Something of this magnitude was probably already known to the Commission, and if not, it would be a level of incompetence almost impossible to believe.
"So you're going to break your body until you die? And when you achieve your goal, what will be left? A destroyed body? Your father certainly won't stop being a Hero just because he was cursed on the street, and the HPSC won't fire him either. You yourself said they don't care. In the end, they would absorb the initial blow to Endeavor's reputation, and over time they would soften everything by saying that the son went crazy and had already tried to kill his own brother out of jealousy before."
With that, Dabi lowered his head. He still felt shame for what he had tried to do, and his mind gradually cleared. What the young man said made sense. He could see, with uncomfortable clarity, Endeavor simply ignoring the curses and the Commission continuing by his side.
"And then, you would just be labeled as Endeavor's crazy son. How long until they forget what he did? Ten years? Then he becomes the great hero with some flaws, and eventually a movie based on his life even comes out, humanizing everything. By then, what will you and his career be? You'll just be the bad part of his story at that point… and you still intend to leave your family in his hands?" Max said. Everything he said was something Dabi himself could have concluded on his own if he could think clearly, but the hatred for his father blinded him.
With a cooler head after losing the fight and becoming paralyzed from using his own power to the limit, Dabi gradually pieced together the puzzle in his mind.
He didn't like the fact that the boy made so much sense. In the end, no one would remember what Endeavor had done, and he would continue to be treated as the hero who saved countless lives.
But then he looked at himself. What else could he do? Even if he returned to his family and told everything, would they accept him now? He was already a villain. He hadn't done anything really horrible yet, but the shame of what he had become would be too great. And in the end, the HPSC would still hide the story, and he would remain disfigured. From what he had realized, the man who saved him had told the truth about the little time he had left. Hatred was what kept him alive. Without it, what was left?
While thinking deeply, the young man placed a hand on his shoulder. A red energy came out of him, warm, welcoming. It had been a long time since Dabi had felt like that.
Max had used part of the absorbed energy to heal Dabi, an almost complete healing, since, unlike All Might, Dabi still possessed all his organs. Damaged by years of burns, yes, but present, and where there is something to heal, healing can reach it. In All Might's case, entire organs no longer existed, and there was no healing energy capable of recreating what had been completely lost.
He used the technique that Nano had developed from the Medi Gun's energy, and the process had an unexpected side effect: transforming energy into healing seemed to refine what remained of it, leaving Max feeling more full of energy than ever. The result was an improved version of the energy used by the Medi Gun, still far from the original level, but much superior to the purely technological version he used before, now that Nano had analyzed and reproduced this energy.
A red aura enveloped his body, leaving him with a constant tingling sensation. Nano was analyzing everything in real time, apparently, the amount of vitality flowing through Max's body had been enough to awaken a bio-static field, something every human possesses in potential, but which rarely manifests outside the body at that magnitude without a trigger like that.
'Damn, it feels so good to unlock a power on my own!' Max was feeling great. With his own bio-static field active, he no longer needed to create clothes with his own DNA just to use powers like Permeation, for example.
He might even be able to extend to other people powers that until then only worked on himself.
'It was the right decision to come here.' Max was already imagining what else he could do with that.
Of course, he was also copying Dabi's Quirk. He had already copied the Quirks of all the other team members after hiring them, with the exception of Gentle, who would soon join the group, and La Brava, whom he hadn't had the chance to copy in person yet.
He had also explained his power to each of them, well, almost. He needed to be a leader they could trust. Himiko wasn't really an exception to that, not in the end, she'd been asleep when he copied her Quirk, so he'd left a note explaining it afterward. She wasn't happy at all when she woke up and found out she'd been copied without consent, and immediately demanded "compensation" in the form of Max's own blood.
La Brava was an actual exception. After hiring her, he'd been too exhausted from the day to properly sit down and explain himself, telling himself he'd get to it eventually. Gentle hadn't gotten any explanation either.
'...'
He'd really only explained himself to three out of the five people he'd hired. It was something he'd get around to eventually, on his own time.
Dabi finally came back to himself and realized his body was good again. He could barely believe it, all that burned skin had been pushed out, replaced by new skin, without a single scar. The joints, previously stiff and painful from years of accumulated damage, now moved with a lightness he no longer remembered was possible. Even the areas where the skin was thinner, almost translucent from excessive Quirk use, now looked healthy and firm.
"I'd like to invite you to my group of cool people, but you're not cool enough yet. When you are, you can contact me." Max opened a playful smile, placed a card in Dabi's pocket, and teleported away.
Dabi took the card out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment. Then he used what remained of his own power to try to burn it.
The card didn't catch fire. It remained intact, as if the flames hadn't even touched it.
He turned the card over and saw what was written: "Fireproof."
He threw it on the ground in anger and after that he passed out, becoming unconscious. Was it anger or relief? Even he couldn't say for sure. But it had been a long time since he had such a good night's sleep.
A few seconds later, Max returned.
"How could I forget, hey Dabi- Hm?" He looked at the ground and saw Dabi unconscious.
"Well, he'll have to figure it out on his own, then." Max already had the watch in his hand and placed it on Dabi's wrist.
"There. Now it's up to you, if you become a real villain from here on out, it's your fault." Then Max disappeared again.
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Hello folks. I just started a Patreon. This is both to keep me motivated to write and to help me make some side income while I'm studying. If you want to read ahead and support my work, you can find me on Patreon searching for WorldHunger.
Lastly, please send me your ideas for Characters, Items, Perks, Gacha Mechanics, Powers/Abilities/Skills (Especially this, I need it), Consumables, and Worlds (for Travel Tickets). Even semi-useful powers are welcome!
Thanks for reading this far. Now, give me your Power Stones! They were promised to me 3,000 years ago! (And remember, everyone gets a free stone daily, for those who don't know).