The cold rain pelted the cracked alley stones of a forgotten district, each drop a sharp sting against the silence of a place barely lit, barely lived in. The air carried the sour stench of rotting garbage and damp decay, mingling with the metallic tang of rust from the sagging fire escapes overhead.
A boy, no older than eight, sat hunched behind a rusted dumpster, his knees drawn tightly to his chest. His ribs poked through the thin, soaked fabric of his tattered shirt, each breath a shallow, shuddering gasp as the chill seeped into his bones. His dark hair clung to his forehead in wet strands, and his eyes—dull, hollow, shadowed with a despair beyond his years—stared blankly at the puddle forming before him. They were waiting eyes, patient yet lifeless, as if he'd already given up on hope but couldn't stop anticipating the next blow fate would deal.
This was Sable Vex before he became a name whispered in underground circles—a phantom of power and purpose. Back then, he had no name. Only a label, hurled at him like refuse by a world that saw him as less than human.
*Quirkless.*
The word had followed him like a curse since he could remember. Children mocked him with cruel laughter, their voices cutting deeper than the stones they threw. "Look at the freak!" they'd jeer, their taunts echoing in the schoolyard. Teachers ignored him, their gazes sliding past as if he were invisible, a ghost haunting the back of the classroom.
Adults pitied him when they bothered to notice—soft, cloying looks that made his skin crawl—before turning away, pretending he didn't exist. By the time he was ten, he'd stopped answering to anything. The name they'd given him at birth felt like a lie, a hollow shell for a boy who was nothing. He'd learned to shrink into himself, to let the world pass over him like rain over a rock, eroding but never breaking.
That night, though, was different. The rain soaked him to the marrow, his stomach a gnawing void of hunger that twisted with every shiver. He pressed himself tighter against the dumpster, the cold metal biting into his spine, when a shadow fell across the puddle. A pair of polished black shoes stepped into view, their gleam an alien contrast to the filth around them. The boy didn't move, didn't look up. His heart thudded dully, a rhythm of fear and resignation.
"All alone?" The voice was smooth, too smooth, like oil sliding over glass. It carried a weight, a promise, and a threat all at once.
He didn't answer. Words had long since abandoned him, replaced by a silence that was his only shield.
The man crouched, his knees bending with unnatural grace, unbothered by the muck that splattered his pristine trousers. "That's alright," he continued, his tone almost gentle, though it sent a shiver down the boy's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "You don't have to speak. But I can tell you want something. Something more than this."
The boy's stomach growled, a pitiful, involuntary sound that broke the stillness. His cheeks burned with shame, but he kept his gaze fixed on the puddle, watching the man's reflection warp in the rippling water.
"No," the man said, a faint smile curling his lips. "Not food. Not warmth. You want a reason. Don't you?"
The boy's head lifted slightly, just enough for his dull eyes to meet the man's. They were sharp, piercing, like a predator sizing up prey. But there was something else there—something that flickered like a flame in the dark, offering light where there had been none.
"You want them to see you," the man pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "To feel the sting of every laugh, every shove, every time they looked through you like you were nothing. I can give you that. I can give you more than that. Power. Purpose. A name."
The boy's breath hitched. For the first time in years, something stirred in his chest—anger, hope, a desperate yearning he couldn't name. He stared at the outstretched hand, gloved in black leather, steady and unyielding.
"Take it," the man urged, his smile widening. "Let me make you something they can't ignore."
Trembling, the boy reached out. His small, chapped hand met the man's, and a jolt ran through him—not pain, but a surge of something dark and alive. Just like that, Sable was no longer nameless.
He was Blotshade—a shadow carved from vengeance, molded by the hand of All for One. The Quirk he gave him, *Oblivion Stare*, was a gift and a weapon. With a single glance, he could strip away a person's will, erase their ability to fight, to move, even to remember who they were. It was intoxicating, the way their eyes glazed over, the way they crumpled before him. And with that power came orders: infiltrate, erase, destroy. He never questioned. Never hesitated. The world that had discarded him would pay, and he would be the instrument of its reckoning.
Until now.
…
In a dark chamber buried deep beneath mountain base, the air hummed with the low drone of machinery. Screens flickered with grainy footage of the ongoing battle, casting an eerie glow across the stone walls. All for One sat in silence, his massive frame shrouded in shadow, the rhythmic hiss of his breathing mask the only sound.
His eyes, narrowed behind the mask, tracked the movements on the screen—Kael Ishiro, a young hero with a fire in his soul, exchanging blows with Blotshade. The villain's movements were precise, and ruthless, but that boy put all of that to an end over a few words.
"How pathetic," All for One muttered, his voice echoing like the whisper of a guillotine blade slicing through the air. "I gave you a miracle… and you squandered it."
He tilted his head, a predator assessing a wounded prey. His gloved hand rose, a single finger extended, and a device near him pulsed faintly with a sickly purple light. The energy crackled, a malevolent hum that seemed to vibrate through the chamber.
Far away, in the cavernous dome where the battle raged, Blotshade suddenly convulsed. His body jerked mid-strike, a guttural scream tearing from his throat—sharp, animalistic, raw with pain. Kael, who had been mid-dash towards Voidflare, skidded to a halt, his boots scraping the cracked stone floor. His chest heaved, sweat mingling with the dust on his face.
"What the-.."
Kael's voice cracked as he watched the villain collapse to his knees, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and dawning realization. Blotshade clutched his face, fingers digging into his skin as if trying to tear away the agony. Cracks spiderwebbed across his hands, his bones distorting with sickening pops. His spine arched backward unnaturally, a grotesque bend that defied human anatomy. A choked sob escaped him, a sound so human it stirred a pang of empathy in Kael's chest.
"No… don't tell me—" Kael began, stepping back, his voice steadying as he processed the transformation. But before he could finish, the air trembled, thick with a sudden, oppressive weight.
A dense, black orb of shifting matter erupted around Blotshade, swallowing his form in a quivering, twisting mass. The orb pulsed with a heartbeat of its own, tendrils of darkness licking at the air. Kael's breath hitched briefly, but his resolve hardened. He turned and bolted toward Voidflare, his mentor, who lay bloodied and unconscious nearby. The older hero's chest rose and fell shallowly, gashes crisscrossing his torso, shallow burns blistering his skin. Kael dropped to his knees, placing a firm hand on Voidflare's chest.
*Healing Aura* activated. A golden shimmer spread from Kael's palm, warm and radiant, seeping into Voidflare's wounds. The gashes began to seal, the burns fading like morning mist under the sun. Kael's heart pounded with focus, a silent resolve on his lips. "Stay with me, old man. Please…"
Then the orb pulsed—and ripped open with a sound like tearing flesh.
Kael turned just in time, his hand still pressed to Voidflare's chest. What emerged was no longer human. It stood nearly eight feet tall, its back arched and stretched in a posture that was both regal and monstrous. Four bat-like wings extended from its spine, their leathery membranes flapping slowly, ominously, each beat sending a ripple of cold air through the dome. Five twisted horns curled from its skull like crowns of blackened bone, their tips glinting in the dim light. Its skin was ashen-gray, leathery and wrinkled, stretched taut over a frame that seemed forged from dried corpse flesh, every crease a testament to its unnatural birth. The creature's eyes burned deep red, vertical slits glowing like twin furnace coals, radiating malice. When it opened its mouth, rows of daggered teeth gleamed, and a low, guttural growl rumbled forth, vibrating through the stone floor.
Kael rose to his feet, standing protectively in front of Voidflare, his stance unyielding. His breath came in controlled gasps, his mind racing as the truth settled in. This wasn't Blotshade anymore—not the man, not the villain. It was something else, a demon forged by All for One's twisted hands. He glanced down at Voidflare, who groaned as consciousness returned, his eyes fluttering open.
The older hero's gaze followed Kael's to the creature, and a grim understanding passed between them. This thing wasn't human anymore. They would have to fight—and defeat it.
Kael knelt beside Voidflare, his voice steady but urgent. "Can you fight? We don't have a choice."
Voidflare pushed himself up, wincing as the last of the healing aura mended his wounds. His eyes, sharp despite the ordeal, locked onto the creature. "I'm not gonna lose in front of my student," he rasped, a fierce determination lighting his face. He clenched his fists, and a faint shimmer of cosmic energy began to crackle around him.
Kael nodded, rising to his full height. "Then let's end this. Once and for all." He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing inward. Multiple quirks awakened within him—*Swift Surge* for blinding speed, *Iron Resilience* for unmatched durability, and *Titan Strength* for overwhelming power. His body hummed with energy, muscles tensing as golden light intertwined with streaks of silver and crimson, marking the activation of his enhanced abilities.
Beside him, Voidflare stood tall, his *Cosmic Flame* igniting. Swirling flames of deep indigo and violet erupted around him, stars flickering within the blaze as if he'd pulled the cosmos into the dome. The air grew warm, the oppressive darkness receding under the radiant power of his quirk.
The creature loomed before them, its growl deepening, but it made no move to attack. The dome trembled with the combined force of their power, a clash of light and shadow poised to erupt as Kael and Voidflare prepared to face the demon that had once been Blotshade.
…