Walking toward the nearest police station, I kept moving while glancing around, still stuck with that feeling that someone was watching me. I knew it was because of what happened a few days ago—I mean, who wouldn't be at least a little paranoid after being surrounded by green fire and nearly getting burned alive?
As soon as he entered the station, several officers recognized him instantly. Some of them glanced at the bandaged side of his face, but no one said anything.
Aizawa walked straight toward one of the lead detectives and dropped a stack of photos onto his desk.
Photos of mutilated criminals, missing persons cases, and a few crime scenes where the same individual had clearly been involved.
The detective raised an eyebrow as he picked them up.
"Another vigilante?"
Aizawa shook his head as he sat down across from him.
"No. Give this case top priority."
The detective looked at him, confused.
"Is it really that serious?"
Aizawa rested both arms on the desk.
"He manipulates green fire, creates chains out of that same fire, and survived attacks that should've taken him out."
The detective paused his writing.
"Regeneration?"
"I don't know," Aizawa replied flatly.
"But he didn't react like a normal person when he got hurt."
The detective continued taking notes while looking at another blurry photograph.
"Description?"
Aizawa thought for a few seconds.
"Tall, thin, wears a hood, and seems to know exactly how to escape."
The detective nodded slowly.
"Name?"
Aizawa remembered that thing's voice and the way it spoke before leaving.
The burn on his face almost seemed to sting again.
"He calls himself Lich."
The detective let out a small laugh at the name.
Aizawa stared at him so coldly that the laughter disappeared almost immediately.
"I'm not joking."
The detective cleared his throat.
"I understand..."
Aizawa stood up from his chair.
"And one more thing."
The detective looked back at him.
"If you find him, don't send mediocre heroes or regular police officers."
The detective frowned.
"Why?"
Aizawa walked toward the exit without stopping.
"Because they'll die."
After saying that, he left the station, making the atmosphere feel significantly heavier.
As he walked, Aizawa kept thinking about the case. It wasn't exactly fear... well, yeah, a little. It would be ridiculous to say otherwise after being trapped by that strange fire. But that wasn't what worried him the most.
That guy.
A vigilante?
He wasn't even sure he could call him that.
A normal vigilante beats criminals up, knocks them unconscious, hands them over to the police, or does something stupid for attention. This guy didn't. This guy killed people—and he did it with a level of calm that Aizawa absolutely hated.
He remembered the reports he had reviewed before going to the station. Mutilated criminals, others missing, and some found dead under circumstances far too strange to blame on a normal quirk. And yeah, many of those people were trash—murderers, rapists, and people who probably deserved to rot in prison—but that didn't give anyone the right to decide who lived or died.
That was the real problem.
Today he kills criminals.
Tomorrow he might decide an innocent person deserves to die too.
And if no one could stop him before he reached that point, the disaster would be enormous.
Aizawa shoved his hands into his pockets as he kept walking, watching ordinary people return home without knowing a thing.
Children.
Families.
Couples arguing over dumb things.
Normal people living their lives.
If that guy lost control—or simply changed targets—these people would be the first to pay the price.
And that was what bothered him the most.
He didn't seem impulsive.
He didn't seem like some lunatic screaming about justice.
He was calm.
Calculated.
And people like that were far worse.
Aizawa remembered his voice.
Remembered how he had simply flown away after marking him like it was nothing.
He clenched his jaw slightly.
"If he ever decides to go after innocent people..."
He looked at the city lights one more time.
"This place is going to hell."
Aizawa shook his head as he kept walking.
"I think not being able to defend myself is affecting me more than it should..." he thought bitterly.
He didn't like feeling this way, especially after so many years doing his job. But he wasn't going to lie to himself either; that encounter had left him shaken, and it was clearly affecting his judgment a little.
He let out a sigh as he adjusted his scarf.
At the end of the day, there was All Might.
There was also Endeavor.
And practically anyone in the top ten could handle someone like him if he truly lost control.
He'd just leave him to them.
Now the case had priority thanks to him. The commission would probably move more qualified people, more resources, and more heroes.
If this so-called Lich made a mistake...
They'd catch him.
Or at least, that's what he assumed.
Meanwhile, from the Lich's perspective:
"Union two... three... eight..."
I slowly moved my hands as human blood began floating around the pit.
"Union..."
The barrels began opening on their own, and gallons of blood shot into the air, spinning as if they were alive.
The blood started forming strange symbols above the ritual as I kept speaking in that ancient language even many old creatures had forgotten.
"Vath'ren..."
The blood compressed.
"Mor'thal..."
It expanded violently.
"Kel'zar unio mortem..."
The bodies around me began trembling as small streams of green fire poured from their eyes, noses, and mouths.
"Blood that gave life..."
"Blood that took life..."
"Blood that remembers..."
"Blood that consumes..."
I raised both hands as all the blood slowly descended into the massive hole.
"Retention..."
"Adjust..."
"Flesh..."
"Death..."
"Chaos..."
"Absolute union..."
The blood fell into the pit, and for a few seconds, everything went completely silent.
Then the ground shook violently.
And a smile appeared on my face.
"Perfect," I said while looking around.
I was optimizing the pit in an incredible way. What would become a massive source of chaos power was slowly taking shape.
If my calculations were right, once I finished, I could gain power almost equal to Endeavor's...
Or maybe even more.
At least when it came to flames.
No idea about everything else.
But I've got plenty of other plans for that.
I shook my head and kept working.
I grabbed several pieces of wood and started carving them by hand while using small bursts of magic to speed up the process.
First, I carved human faces.
Deformed faces.
Screaming.
Then I made skulls.
Then sheep.
Twisted horns.
Strange symbols.
And finally...
The face of GOLB.
Or at least a close enough representation so I wouldn't lose my mind trying to remember every detail.
As I carved, I kept muttering spells under my breath.
"Kar'thul..."
The wood began hardening.
"Ven'kar..."
The symbols started carving themselves in.
"Gol'eth..."
The eyes of the figures began glowing faintly green.
I kept carving for hours as I placed each figure around the pit.
Each one had a different purpose.
Retention.
Pain.
Chaos.
Sacrifice.
Memory.
Death.
When I finished placing the final figure, I simply stared at all my work.
And honestly...
It looked pretty beautiful.
"Damn... I really cooked," I said while looking at the figures.
Honestly, they turned out pretty well.
Way too well for someone who should technically be destroying worlds instead of playing craftsman.
After that, I started moving each figure into different positions.
I wasn't placing them randomly.
Every position mattered.
Every angle mattered too.
I picked up the skull-shaped figure and placed it directly north of the pit, facing straight downward. That one was responsible for absorbing any death left floating in the atmosphere.
The sheep figures went to the east. I arranged them in a circle, each one facing another, representing sacrifice.
Pretty ironic.
I placed the deformed human faces to the west. Their mouths were left open, facing the center of the pit, as if they were screaming forever.
The horns went to the south. Those took longer to position because they had to point in an exact direction or they could mess up the entire energy flow.
And finally...
The face of GOLB.
I placed it directly in front of where I would normally stand.
Staring right at me.
As if it were judging everything I was doing.
I stared at it for a few seconds.
"Don't look at me like that," I muttered while adjusting it.
Then I grabbed blood and started drawing small symbols connecting each figure to the main pit.
Lines.
Circles.
Ancient markings.
Everything slowly connected as the ground began releasing faint green glows.
I stepped back a few feet to take it all in.
I smelled the air a little and honestly... anyone who wasn't used to blood, death, or outright massacres would probably collapse just from breathing in here. Between the metallic smell of blood, the piles of flesh, and the magic floating in the air, this place felt like a health code violation waiting to happen.
I think the only one who could handle this without collapsing would be King, but that's mostly because of the mental conditioning I gave him. I basically blocked certain natural responses in his brain to keep him from shutting down after seeing something like this.
Very considerate of me, honestly.
I sat on the edge of the pit while calmly observing everything.
The first level was where all the human blood was, slowly moving through the retention symbols I had drawn earlier. That part kept all the energy stable and prevented it from exploding too early.
The second level was much more important.
That's where the bodies would fall.
Any death inside that area would be absorbed directly by the wooden figures I made earlier. The skulls absorbed death, the sheep absorbed sacrifice, the human faces absorbed pain, and the horns redirected all that energy downward.
And then there was the third level.
My favorite part.
That's where I was slowly concentrating the green flames, compressing them to create an artificial source of chaos.
If everything went well, I wouldn't have to go out every night hunting criminals like I was working overtime.
"Entrepreneur mindset," I muttered while staring at the pit.
I was literally investing now to profit later.
Far away from there...
Footsteps could be heard.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Soft footsteps.
Delicate.
Clearly feminine.
Several people were walking down the street, and when they heard those footsteps, they glanced over their shoulders.
Just for a second.
Then they quickly looked away and kept walking as if nothing happened.
No one wanted to stare too long.
The footsteps continued.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The figure kept walking calmly.
And at some point...
She stopped.
"That's strange..." the woman murmured while looking toward the place where the Lich was.
She could feel something.
Something strange.
Heavy.
Ancient.
But she couldn't identify exactly what it was.
She frowned slightly while staring into the distance.
"I feel something... but I don't know what it is."
She kept watching for a few more seconds.
Then she simply shook her head.
"Nah... right now I need to find my brother," she said as she started walking again.
She kept moving as if nothing had happened.
Without knowing...
That if she had decided to interfere at that moment...
A lot of the Lich's plans would've gone completely to hell.
End of Chapter 6.