The usual hum of thought, the usual internal voice of logic and planning, it was gone. In its place, a deep, violent urge to kill. His vision pulsed dark.
He sprinted forward, armoured feet clanking against the floor, leaping over fallen debris. A group of low tier villains tried to intercept him the moment he landed, three at first. One lunged with a blade, but Dante weaved then surged forward, driving his forehead into the guys nose. The thug stumbled back, but Dante grabbed his collar and slammed him into another thug before stomping his head into the floor.
The other thug quickly moved in, some kinda lightning sparked across his arms, but Dante was already on him. He dug his claws into the man's stomach and threw him 30 meters before quickly turning his attention to the last one.
He didn't even get to scream, a roundhouse kick flew straight into his jaw before he could register his existence, dropping him like a puppet without strings.
More charged at Dante. Five. Then six. Then even more.
They swarmed him like the insects they were.
He weaved through punches, ducked under swings and countered each one with equal force. A low sweep knocked three off balance, followed by a stomp that shattered a ribcage. Another charged from the side, but an arm grew out from his armour and punched him square in the mouth, sending teeth flying.
Dante wasn't just fighting.
He was punishing.
But it didn't feel like it was just one person fighting, it was as if two beings were fighting as one.
Every movement came from instinct, born of survival and honed through the years. The armour left his body and formed over his hands, creating spiked cestus. He broke noses, shattered knees and crushed collarbones all without a second thought.
A villain with a steel plated body stepped up, confident. Dante leapt and delivered an axe kick straight down into the chest so hard that it dented the metal, then followed by an elbow in the form of a katar down on his head. Dante knew how to deal with these kind of quirks thanks to Kazuya.
Blood drenched him. Small cuts on his arms. His breath came heavy and savage, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Anyone that was in his way of mauling the man that destroyed Aizawa's arm. He tore through the crowd with fury in his veins, clearing the space between him and Aizawa.
They had hurt him.
They would pay.
"You're not bad," Shigaraki muttered, walking closer toward him. "You're different than the rest. You're not a sheep."
Dante didn't answer. His gaze was focused on Aizawa's crumpled body behind Shigaraki. He noticed that he was still breathing, he was still alive. That was all he needed to save him.
Dante cracked his neck.
"You've got about five seconds before I kill you." Dante growled.
Shigaraki chuckled, dragging fingers through the air like he was playing with a string. "You're wasting all of it. All of this strength, this ferocity, and you want to be a hero? Come on. You're a predator pretending to be a shepherd."
Dante stepped forward. "And you're a freak pretending to be something important."
That did it.
Shigaraki lunged forward with inhuman speed, hand outstretched. Dante easily ducked under, he could feel a strange heat from Shigaraki's hand. He then grabbed Shigaraki's wrist, twisting it with everything he had, only for Shigaraki to twist aswell, grabbing Dante's shoulder with four fingers.
But Dante had already figured out the rules to his quirk.
He slammed his forehead into Shigaraki's nose and rolled back just in time, breaking contact before the fifth finger could touch him.
"Smart too," Shigaraki spat, nose bleeding.
Dante didn't reply, he just hissed as he dashed forward with a right hook. Shigaraki blocked with a forearm, but Dante shifted his arms position, driving a sharpened elbow into Shigaraki's thigh. The villain stumbled and Dante threw a hard stab to the throat.
But then…
A shadow moved.
A blur of muscle slammed down between them, the ground cracking beneath its feet.
Dante leapt back, keeping his eyes wide.
"Back off," Shigaraki said to the monster. "Let me play with him a little more, you just make sure he doesn't escape."
The Nomu obeyed, looming behind its master.
Dante was slowly regaining control. He knew he couldn't take both of them, not with it backup. But if he could keep them busy, if he could buy time for some other heroes to arrive…
"You're already one of us, you know," Shigaraki sneered, wiping his bloody face. "You just haven't accepted it yet."
"I know exactly what I am," Dante spat coldly. "And I know what I'm not."
And just like that, he moved.
A flash of motion, a misdirect. He ducked past the monsters swing, dashed to Aizawa's body, dragging him out do the kill zone with every last ounce of strength he had. The Nomu roared and charged, but Dante vanished into the smoke, using the cover and carnage he had created to disappear into the debris.
"Coward," Shigaraki muttered. But there was something else behind his voice.
Amusement.
Interest.
Dante had definitely made an impression.
But now…
The ground shook as a golden figure descended in a blur of wind and energy, slamming into the concrete with a shockwave that gathered the attention of everyone.
Dante stumbled back, his shorts torn, arms streaked in blood that wasn't just his. His jaw was clenched, one eye was swollen shut, a large gash across his nose and his fists were still pulsing with tension. Teeth from broken villains crunched underfoot as he stood upright, panting in red most.
All Might landed infront of him like a living meteor, golden hair whipping back from the force of his arrival.
Dante panted. "That thing—" he pointed a finger at the monstrous figure behind Shigaraki, still lurking with dead eyes and twitching limbs, "it isn't normal. It's very strong. Maybe even stronger than you, and Izuku and Tsuyu are there, you need to help them…"
All Might didn't waste a second. His expression devoid of any hero's cheer, face dark with understanding.
"I know," he rumbled, and in the next instant, he was gone. A sonic boom followed his movement, air collapsing around him as he launched himself toward the Nomu.
Dante didn't wait around.
He pivoted on his heel, tendrils holding Aizawa's unconscious form tight to Dante's upper back and he started running again.
The weight didn't slow him down, adrenaline was running hotter than fire. He had only one goal now, it wasn't to kill anyone, it was to keep Aizawa alive.
Smoke choked the plaza. Screams echoed in the distance. The metallic tang of blood and concrete dust filled the air.
He skidded around a corner, then ran up a row of stairs.
Dante saw an exit, his breath was short and ragged but he kept running.
He could feel fresh blood trickling down his back.
Aizawa.
He was dying, he was going to bleed out.
"Damn!" Dante hissed. "No ambulances. No heroes. No time—fuck!"
He skidded into the open ruin of the U.S.J.'s front entrance, looking up at the sky. Somewhere behind him, the fight between All Might and the Nomu cracked the world open, every punch a thunderclap resounding throughout the entire plaza.
He needed to get to U.A. fast. Faster than anything hed done before. Running wouldn't be enough. Aizawa was bleeding out, he would never make it.
He clenched his fists. His quirk struggling to work, he was all out of calories.
Dante moved Aizawa off his back and into his arms.
He needed something more, something like a pair of wings.
He had tried it before. Twice even, he'd tried it over fifty times before. But not once did it work. He couldn't balance it right, he couldn't get the timing of the flaps right. The wings either didn't form, or they were just too heavy. Too unstable. Just another broken part of his unstable quirk.
But this time, it wasn't just about some personal desire.
This time, someone needed him.
He focused on his breathing, he didn't have time. The tendrils on his back started to mold together, they hardened, they reshaped.
Two large, jagged wings exploded out from his back, they weren't feathered or elegant, they were brutal and raw, made of thick, compacted sludge and muscle, with veins that pulsed and flared with dark energy. Like the wings of a fallen angel.
He staggered. The weight was crushing. Every inch of his body protested.
But he gritted his teeth, held Aizawa close, and he jumped.
He was about two meters in the air before…
He dropped down.
Then the wings snapped down even faster.
Wind howled in his ears as he shot up into the air, barely clearing the fractured dome of the U.S.J.,the muscles in his back screamed. The wings beat erratically, but they were working.
He was flying.
Not gracefully. Not with control.
But he was flying.
And in the air, he could see it.
He could see U.A. he poured everything into one desperate flight, praying that he would hold it together long enough to save Aizawa's life.
——
Also quick little drawing of long hair Dante (current Dante)