The city of Musutafu plunged into chaos after the sudden explosion of a car in the middle of the central street, halting traffic in an instant. The fire spread rapidly, engulfing nearby vehicles and sending people running in desperation, their screams echoing from all directions. At first, it might have seemed like a tragic accident, a fatal mechanical failure... But Tsukauchi knew the truth.
This was no coincidence.
It was the work of the one behind the Voice. The same person who had masterfully distracted them, keeping them occupied while his true move unfolded. The leaders of the Police Force had fallen into the trap like flies drawn to the flame, blind to the real threat until it was too late.
A police officer rushed into the monitoring room, carrying a thick stack of papers, his expression grim.
"Sir Tsukauchi, the investigation results have arrived."
"Tell me," Tsukauchi responded, his voice heavy with exhaustion and tension.
"The explosion was caused by engine combustion, amplified by a special mixture of gasoline combined with methane and butane gas. There was also a separate compartment, likely where the gases were stored before detonation," the officer explained, flipping through the papers as he read the technical details.
Tsukauchi massaged his temples, feeling the weight of the situation press down on his already exhausted mind. It was a calculated, cold, and meticulous attack. The Voice had caused immense destruction with a single action, and this was only a warning. He needed to be stopped before something even worse happened.
"The Voice... How many times have we reviewed the recording?" he asked, searching for any flaw, any gap in their security.
"More than fifteen times."
"And did you find anything?" He adjusted himself in his chair, waiting for any clue, any detail that could be used against the enemy.
"Nothing. The microphone interference cuts off any sound except for the distorted voice. Moreover, every word he spoke was carefully chosen to reveal no useful information. He's too smart to let anything slip," the officer admitted, his frustration evident. "Most likely, the interference was used to mask the sound of the vehicle's engine while it was in motion."
Damn it... Tsukauchi thought, clenching his fists.
He needed to change his approach. If the Voice left no direct traces, then perhaps he could be found through his actions.
"Any leads on Sisigou or Ichirou?" he asked, his voice growing firmer. Their absence was weighing on his mind.
The officer hesitated before handing him a few sheets of paper.
"Not many. Initially, we investigated the hidden city in the mountains, where they were last seen. We only found pieces of wood and a destroyed inn. The locals were completely unaware of what had happened, after all, the inn was far from the rest of the town," he explained, turning to another page. "Bodies were found... All inside the demolished inn."
Tsukauchi closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. His chest tightened, a dark weight settling over his shoulders.
'More dead... More victims.'
They were sent on this mission, confident that they could find answers, but in the end... What they found was just more destruction.
'We caused this.'
'We sent them to their deaths.'
=================
Rin and Toga disappeared into the chaos they created, leaving the Police Force in a desperate frenzy to track their steps. The game of cat and mouse was just beginning, and Rin knew that better than anyone.
After the carefully planned attack, they couldn't simply stay in the same city. So, without hesitation, they stole another car and headed for a new destination, keeping themselves out of immediate reach of the authorities. Rin shut off access to the police communication system – for now. He had already caused enough damage to create openings on all sides, and now, time was on his side.
Toga watched everything closely, fascinated. She had never imagined Rin capable of manipulating the situation so flawlessly. Every word spoken, every calculated pause, the tones of his voice shifting from amusement to contempt... it was a spectacle. A true theater of chaos.
But what came next truly left her stunned.
Rin took the recording of his conversation with Tsukauchi and turned it into a weapon. He didn't just store it – he broadcasted it throughout Japan on various frequencies and signals, ensuring that anyone who found the audio would know of his existence, even if indirectly. He wanted to be a name whispered in the shadows, a ghost whose words echoed through the cities.
While Rin focused on spreading his message, Toga acted in her own way. She hunted heroes.
But they weren't just random targets. They were a select group.
After all, society was full of false heroes – those who used their titles to seek fame, status, and money, but who never truly reached out to those in need. She and Rin knew that. The difference was, while many only murmured about it, they were actually doing something about it.
But Toga didn't stop there. Her targets weren't just the corrupt heroes – but also the ignorant ones.
Just as Rin had stated, people had become too dependent on heroes. All Might, with his overwhelming presence, had created an entire generation that believed heroes were perfect saviors, always there to fix any problem. This distorted belief had made people blind. They didn't help each other. They didn't defend themselves. They simply waited for the heroes to show up and fix everything.
And while these people lived in their bubble of false security, others were forgotten. Rejected.
And these people, in turn, became villains.
Toga smiled as her blade glinted under the moonlight.
If society wanted to keep pretending everything was fine, then she and Rin would make sure to forcefully open their eyes.
As Toga's hunt began, Rin watched his partner with satisfaction. Her excitement was genuine, almost childlike, as if she were playing in a funhouse made of blood and fear. He knew she took pleasure in her own twisted view of the world, and for that, he didn't mind. On the contrary, it was fascinating to watch her move through the shadows, hunting like a starving predator.
But Rin wasn't the type to simply watch. If Toga was having fun, then he too would find his own entertainment.
That night, a certain group of businessmen would become their target.
Rikiya Yotsubashi was a powerful man. President and CEO of Detnerat, one of the leading companies responsible for producing support items for individuals with Quirks, he had money, influence, and a respected name in the business world. However, to him, all of that was just a detail, a mere convenience.
The true purpose of his life wasn't in boring meetings or corporate management. His true mission was something much greater, something he believed was his absolute duty.
The Meta-Liberation Army.
That was what occupied his thoughts, what kept him going. And now, besides the Army, there was something new. Something that had captured his attention overwhelmingly.
That audio.
It was found by Skeptic, one of his main allies. The moment Skeptic brought it to him, Rikiya realized it was revolutionary.
A person—an unknown—had risen. A voice that came out of nowhere, cutting through all possible frequencies, spreading across Japan like a forbidden whisper. The words spoken were precise, sharp, full of disdain and irony. He spoke about the collapse of society, the hypocrisy of heroes, and the weakness of the people who had become dependent on them.
It was almost like listening to Destro.
Rikiya knew this person—whoever they were—had to be found. He wanted to meet them. He needed to meet them. But even Skeptic couldn't track them down. The signal was scrambled, mixed, and brilliantly encoded. Whoever had done this knew exactly what they were doing.
Still, Rikiya did not give up.
Now, inside his luxurious car, he held the phone firmly, his eyes fixed on the screen as he listened to the audio once again.
He had already lost count of how many times he had heard it. But he kept going. Always kept going.
The words resonated in his mind, echoing like a call.
He knew he was not alone in his fight.
If this voice was real—if this person truly existed—then the revolution he had long dreamed of had already begun.
The car slowed as it approached the destination. The driver turned slightly backward.
"We've arrived, Mr. Yotsubashi."
Rikiya shifted his gaze from the screen and looked out the window.
The meeting awaited him. But this time, he had something far more important on his mind.
"Yes."
Rikiya's reply was short and cold. He adjusted his suit with a precise movement before stepping out of the car. The night was cool, with a light breeze stirring the city lights. He took a deep breath, sensing the faint smell of rain in the air, but paid it no attention. His mind was elsewhere.
The meeting with his associates would be just another tedious obligation. Three other companies specializing in support items would be present, and together they would discuss the same bureaucratic topics as always.
Regulations.
Investments.
Market forecasts.
He could already envision the fake smiles, the empty handshakes, and the speeches about profits and expansion. They would talk about the growing need for support equipment for heroes, the demand for new technologies, and how their companies could benefit from it.
But none of that mattered to him.
Rikiya was a pragmatic man. He knew that money and power were valuable tools, but only tools. The true purpose of his life lay beyond these insipid meetings. He was the heir to Destro's will, the leader of the Meta-Liberation Army, and his sole ambition was to break the chains imposed by society.
And now, for the first time in a long while, something truly interesting had emerged.
The Voice.
That enigmatic recording—the meticulously calculated speech, full of irony and contempt—proved that someone out there understood the truth.
Someone was already acting.
Someone who understood the hypocrisy of heroes.
If this person was real—if they weren't just a ghost throwing words into the wind—then he needed to find them.
And what Rikiya didn't know was that this meeting would happen sooner than he expected.
Meeting Room.
The atmosphere was wrong.
The lights flickered incessantly, casting irregular shadows across the walls of the room. The air was thick, heavy with a metallic smell. A deathly silence dominated the space, only broken by the soft sound of humming.
A figure, dressed in a beige coat, stood with his back to the entrance. He held an improvised brush, dipping it into a red liquid and drawing something on the wall in front of him.
The paint? Blood.
Around him, three bodies lay on the cold marble floor. They all wore expensive suits, now stained red. Their eyes, once filled with greed and ambition, were now empty, fixed on nothing.
The humming continued. A carefree sound, almost childlike.
But then, it stopped.
The figure slightly tilted his head, as if he had sensed something. A wide, cutting smile spread across his face.
"Ah..."
He twirled the finger he had used as a brush, slowly turning to face the new presence in the room.
"So, there was one more?"
His eyes glowed with malice. He seemed entertained.
"Well..." He shrugged, lifting a notebook. With a casual gesture, he dipped his blood-stained finger and drew a large 'X' on one of the pages.
"...I don't need to worry."
Rin smiled, tossing the notebook aside with a careless movement. The small object hit the floor, scattering some blood-stained pages before sliding into a corner of the room.
He slowly turned, his dark eyes analyzing the painting he had just finished. A giant X, drawn with precision, covered the bloodied wall. The flickering light in the room made the red pulse, as if it were still fresh.
With a satisfied sigh, Rin walked over to one of the corpses and reached into the pocket of the designer suit. He pulled out a white cloth—once clean and refined, now just another makeshift tool—and began to wipe his blood-soaked fingers with soft, methodical movements.
Then, without hurry, he turned and dragged the bodies, stacking them as if they were mere bags of trash. Every movement was calm, controlled—a task he had done before.
When he finished, he sat atop the pile of corpses.
His dark eyes turned to the door, a relaxed smile playing on his lips.
And then, it opened.
The figure of Rikiya Yotsubashi appeared in the doorway.
For a moment, everything was silent.
The CEO of Detnerat froze. His eyes scanned the scene before him—the blood spattered, the grotesque X on the wall, the bodies stacked like a macabre throne.
But it was the figure sitting atop the dead that truly caught his attention.
A young man with black hair, dark and deep eyes. Wearing a beige coat, a black shirt, dark pants, and shoes. His posture was relaxed, almost bored, as if he had been waiting for Rikiya's arrival all along.
Then, the young man smiled.
"Rikiya Yotsubashi..." His voice was calm, but sharp as a blade. "I believe you've arrived at a bad time."
He slowly stood up, his movements fluid and unhurried.
In the next instant, something changed.
An invisible energy filled the air, thick with a suffocating weight. An intense pressure seemed to fold the space around Rin.
BOOM!
The air was violently expelled away. The walls cracked with the impact. The windows vibrated, threatening to shatter.
And then, Rikiya's power simply disappeared.
The ability he had tried to activate—extinguished in an instant.
He had never felt anything like this. It was as if he was facing something much greater. Something incomprehensible.
Rikiya froze.
Rin's eyes glowed red for a moment before he took a step forward.
But instead of attacking him, he walked right past him.
Rikiya held his breath, feeling a chill run down his spine.
Then, Rin stopped.
"Ignorance is the greatest difference between heroes and villains."
His voice was calm, yet full of meaning.
Rikiya's eyes widened.
He knew those words.
His heart raced as he recognized the phrase spoken in the recording. The Voice...
Slowly, he turned, looking at the back of the young man who was now walking toward the exit.
"You..." Rikiya's voice came out almost as a whisper. "...The Voice..."
Rin stopped and slightly turned his face, his eyes half-closed in an enigmatic gaze.
"It's not 'The Voice.'"
He spun on his heels, a casual smile forming.
"You can call me Slur."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"Or, if you prefer..."
He began walking again, his footsteps echoing in the bloodstained room.
"X."
================
The encounter between Rin and Rikiya lasted only a few seconds, but in that brief moment, a deep impact was made. Rin, with his relaxed posture and sharp gaze, let slip calculated words, sentences that were not just conversation, but seeds planted in the fertile soil of dissatisfaction and the desire for change. Rikiya, although experienced and aware of the dangers of the world, felt something different during that encounter. It wasn't just a young insurgent before him. It was a catalyst.
Slur didn't need to say much. His presence, his intentions hidden behind a veil of mystery, and his absolute confidence spoke for themselves. When the encounter ended, Rikiya remained still for a few moments, as if trying to decipher the enigma he had just encountered. Meanwhile, Slur continued his path without hurry, leaving only a trail of imminent chaos behind.
But the impact of that encounter...
Spread like fire in a dry forest.
The name "Slur" or "X" began to spread across Japan like an uncontrollable whisper. Initially, it was just a murmur in dark alleys, in clandestine meetings, in conversations interrupted by furtive glances. But quickly, that whisper turned into a roar. It was as if a spark had hit a barrel of gunpowder, and the explosion was inevitable.
Journalists began to ask. Influencers tried to interpret. The government grew uneasy. Who was Slur? What did he want? Where did he come from? The answers didn't matter, because the uncertainty fueled the legend.
And that was exactly what Rin wanted.
He didn't just want his name to be known. He wanted influence. Power. Followers.
But for that, he needed something small.
Just a spark.
A spark that would become a fire impossible to contain.
And that spark came from Rikiya Yotsubashi.
And from the Forbidden Book.
In the days following the encounter, Rikiya couldn't stop thinking about Slur. The words of that young man kept echoing, reverberating like a hypnotic mantra, like a forbidden secret that only he had heard. But it wasn't just talk. It was a dangerous idea. An idea with destructive potential. And he knew that Japan was thirsty for it.
So, he acted.
Rikiya ordered that a book be written. Not just a manifesto, but a war cry. A document that would transcend time and censorship. A book that would spread Slur's message.
The title?
"Slur, The Voice of Liberation."
It was a work inspired by Destro's old manifesto, but with an even bolder, more modern, more provocative tone. It spoke of a world free from oppression, where people no longer had to hide, where strength determined freedom, and where the false peace of the heroes was just an illusion created to keep the masses under control.
The most surprising part?
The book was an instant success.
Stores sold out in less than a day.
Digital versions were downloaded millions of times in just one week.
And, unexpectedly, the Meta-Liberation Army EXPLODED in numbers.
Before, they had 116,516 loyal warriors.
Now?
225 THOUSAND FOLLOWERS.
In a matter of days, they had doubled in size.
Rikiya watched all of this unfold with a satisfied smile, but there was something that bothered him. He wanted to thank Slur. He wanted to speak with him again. He wanted to understand who he was, where he came from, and how he managed to hide so well.
But there was no way to find him.
Slur appeared when he wanted.
And that made Rin even more fascinating and dangerous.
As Rikiya stared at his comrades from the Army, one question kept echoing in his mind:
"Who was this young man? And how could he hide so well?"
They had no answers. None of them. The question lingered in the air, suspended like an invisible blade, threatening to cut any remaining certainty. The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. Every exchanged glance carried the same unease, the same unresolved doubt. But no one dared be the first to speak.
Meanwhile, outside this silence, the Police Force was on high alert. They wanted to act. They needed to act. But their hands were tied. The truth was brutal: they had discovered too late. The damage was already done. The X, with meticulous precision, had spread the audio to every corner of Japan before they could react. Now, the information couldn't be contained, no matter how hard they tried. It flowed through the networks like a virus, infecting minds, provoking doubts, inciting revolt. And the worst part? There was no way to reverse the situation.
It was a perfect blow.
The police knew that even if they tried to intervene, they would be stepping into a minefield. They couldn't accuse or detain Rikiya, nor Detnerat, nor any of his associates. Not even the publisher of the book could be touched. Any attempt at silencing would only serve to reinforce the truth of the words contained in that cursed work.
And that was the great irony.
The Book had already predicted this.
If you silence something, you only prove that something is true.
Chaos was spreading. Japan was no longer the same. Headlines multiplied, heated debates erupted on social media, and protests began to take shape in various cities. The power structures were shaking.
And, watching all of this, Rin and Toga smiled.
They had done so much... in such a short time. And now they were there, feeling the satisfaction of those who see their work bloom. The order was crumbling, the certainties were falling apart, and they were responsible for it.
But why stop now?
If a single audio had caused such destruction... imagine what else they could do?
This thought made Rin laugh. Softly at first, but soon becoming something more intense. A laugh full of excitement, of anticipation.
They would start again.
And then, on October 14th, XXXX, something new happened.
Like a ghost haunting the media, a tape appeared on every broadcaster in the cities of Musutafu and Hosu.
The staff found it in different ways. Some received it directly in their offices, while others discovered it already inside the broadcast booths, waiting to be used. An invisible and precise delivery.
What caught the most attention, however, was what was written on it.
The handwriting was firm, without hesitation.
Simple. Direct. Enigmatic.
"Slur Presentation."
But before that, we must see, look from another angle now, the angle of the bloodthirsty girl, Himiko Toga.
The Red Queen.