Chapter Text
White.
Weightless. Infinite.
Izuku drifted, if drifting was even possible here. No ground beneath him. No sky above. Just the vast, suffocating white. It pressed in around him—empty and heavy all at once—leaving him hollow.
Am I dead?
The thought barely surfaced before something deeper cracked through the void.
Boom.
Boom.
A heartbeat—slow, ancient, too large to belong to anything living.
That’s… not mine.
Izuku’s hands clenched—except they didn’t. He had no hands here, no body, just the faint echo of who he was, stretched thin in the emptiness. His thoughts tangled, fraying at the edges as the beat grew louder.
I didn’t mean for this.
He could still feel it—the raw, chaotic surge of the Wish spell , the way it had clawed through the fraying ley lines, wild magic snapping like a live wire. He’d reached for enough strength to survive , to stop the collapse, to protect the others.
Not this. I didn’t want—
The white cracked open.
A shadow poured through it—vast, golden, its wings blotting out what little light the void offered. Scales shimmered like molten metal, each one a perfect, gleaming plate. Horns curved like sickle moons, and burning gold eyes snapped open, their slitted pupils locking onto him.
An Ancient Gold Dragon.
No.
The soul of one.
“You wished for strength.”
The voice wasn’t sound. It was law—etched into the bones of the world. Izuku’s thoughts buckled under its weight.
“I—” He tried to speak, but there was no voice here, just intent. Desperation clawed at him. “Not this. I didn’t mean—”
“Wild magic does not care for mortal intentions.”
The dragon’s vast wings stretched wider, shadows curling like smoke in its wake.
“You cracked the weave. And I answered.”
The light condensed, the dragon’s massive form fracturing into rivers of molten gold, spiraling toward him.
Izuku tried to pull back—to refuse—but there was nothing to hold onto.
The light struck.
It tore through him, burning hot and cold all at once, latching onto his soul, clawing into every fragile seam. Power, endless and crushing, filled the hollow spaces where his magic had once lived, shattering them.
This isn’t what I wanted!
The thought barely echoed before it was drowned out by the heartbeat—
Boom.
Boom.
And then there was fire.
He woke screaming.
The sky above UA was a bleeding wound—torn wide where the rift clawed through reality, its jagged edges still sparking with wild magic. The air stank of smoke and ozone, the ground littered with rubble, splintered stone, and frost-burned debris.
Izuku’s claws— claws —dug deep into the cracked concrete, heat pouring off him in rolling waves. Every breath felt too loud, the air thick with static.
Too much. Everything’s too much.
He staggered to his feet—if it could still be called that—his legs bending wrong, talons scraping against the stone. His wings— wings —beat once, heavy and unsteady, stirring dust into choking clouds.
What—what did I do?
The last thing he remembered—
The Wish spell. The ley lines fraying, the rift spiraling out of control. He’d reached for strength. Just enough to stop it. Just enough to protect—
I didn’t ask for this.
The heartbeat still echoed through him—slow, ancient, not entirely his.
Boom.
Boom.
Then, a shadow tore through the clouds.
Massive. Icy.
A white-scaled form cut through the smoke, wings vast and pale as a winter storm. Its roar split the sky, sending tremors racing through the ground.
Izuku barely threw himself aside before frost breath seared through the space he’d just occupied, freezing debris into jagged crystal spires.
His body reacted before he could think—wings snapping wide, claws tearing against the earth as he launched upward.
The white dragon wheeled midair, eyes like shards of ice locking onto him. There was no recognition there—just predator.
“ Apex. ”
The word slammed into his skull, thick with meaning he didn’t understand.
The white dragon dove.
Instinct roared— strike first .
Fire burst from his throat, searing gold flames that scorched the clouds themselves. The dragon twisted through it, scales burning at the edges, before crashing into him midair.
Claws raked against his—hers, he realized distantly—massive, ancient, her strength anchoring her like stone.
Izuku snarled, heat flaring off him in unstable bursts, the wild magic inside spiraling out of control.
She’s going to kill me.
The thought barely landed before his body twisted again, tail lashing hard, forcing her back enough for his wings to beat free.
They hovered, circling in the torn sky—two predators locked in instinct.
But she was older. Heavier. Controlled.
Izuku, on the other hand, felt the power inside him bucking wild—every second was a battle to keep from slipping fully into the dragon’s will clawing at the edges of his mind.
The white dragon bared her teeth.
“ You don’t even know what you are yet, do you? ”
The voice boomed in his head, raw and ancient, no need for words.
Izuku’s throat burned. “I didn’t— I didn’t want this! ”
Her voice clawed at the edges of his mind—ancient, relentless.
“You called power to you. Power answered.”
Izuku’s wings flared wide in response, heavy and clumsy, stirring dust into choking clouds. Fire licked at the back of his throat, but it was wild, unstable—threatening to spill out before he could aim it. His talons scraped the fractured ground, claws flexing.
Too big. Too heavy. Too much.
She dove.
Instinct roared.
Izuku threw himself upward to meet her, wings beating hard—but she hit him first.
Their bodies collided midair with a thunderous crack, her talons sinking deep into his shoulders, her sheer mass driving him backward.
Izuku snarled—raw, guttural—and lashed out with his claws. They raked across her side, gold-tipped talons glinting with fire, but her scales held. Her wing slammed into him next, sending him spiraling down.
He crashed into the earth, stone cracking beneath him.
Before he could recover, she was on him again.
Her jaws snapped at his throat—he barely twisted away, her fangs scraping against his golden scales. His claws lashed up, catching her across the snout, fire flaring from between his teeth.
But she didn’t falter.
“ You don’t even know what you are yet, ” she snarled, smoke curling from her maw.
Izuku roared in frustration and heaved upward, muscles straining, his wings beating hard enough to send dust spiraling into the air. He threw her off, claws glowing with residual heat, but the strain clawed at his mind—every movement, every shift of his wings, felt wrong .
She recovered midair, spiraling upward.
“ Hatchling strength. No control. ”
She surged downward again.
Izuku reacted on instinct, fire spilling from his maw in a wild, golden torrent. It spread too wide—unfocused—and she cut through it with a roll of her wings, her frost breath meeting his fire midair.
Steam exploded between them, scalding heat rushing outward—
But she broke through it first.
Her tail whipped around—
CRACK.
It slammed into Izuku’s side, sending him hurtling across the battlefield. He hit the ground hard, dust spiraling upward as he tumbled through stone and debris.
I’m losing.
His claws dug deep into the earth, wings twitching as he tried to stand.
I can’t—she’s too fast—
The heartbeat inside him thundered—
Boom.
Boom.
The Dragon Soul pulsed through him, hot and heavy, but it wasn’t giving him answers—just strength.
Not strategy. Not control.
The white dragon landed across from him, the ground cracking beneath her claws.
“ You’re too soft, ” she sneered. “Still thinking like a mortal. Still trying to hold back. ”
Her frost breath began to build again, cold curling through the air—
Izuku snarled and beat his wings hard, the rush of heated air scattering ice crystals. He shot upward, spiraling above her, then dove, talons gleaming.
She twisted midair, faster than he expected, and they collided again.
Claws tore across scales.
Her talons caught his wing—
RIP.
Agony flared as the membrane tore down the middle, golden ichor spraying into the air. Izuku roared, but she didn’t stop—her claws caught his side next, dragging deep gouges down his ribs before throwing him earthward.
He hit the ground—hard.
Dust and smoke swirled above him as he gasped for breath, blood hissing against his overheated scales.
I can’t—
The Dragon Soul’s heartbeat still echoed in his chest, steady and heavy.
Boom.
Boom.
Fight back.
But his mind screamed beneath it.
This isn’t working. She’s tearing me apart.
His claws clenched against the fractured stone, the weight of fire still swirling in his chest—but something else stirred beneath it.
That bottomless magic well he’d felt before—the one he’d always feared touching fully.
The one that had burned him out before.
But now—
He felt no strain.
No breaking point.
The Dragon Soul—
It didn’t give me more magic. It made me strong enough to use it.
The realization hit hard.
The white dragon was diving again, frost breath already curling toward him—
Izuku moved.
The world twisted.
Space folded.
One second, he was on the ground—
The next, he was above her, claws glowing with condensed fire.
Her head snapped up—too slow—
Izuku slammed into her, the force of it splitting the ground below as they crashed down.
She roared beneath him, wings thrashing, but he didn’t stop—his claws drove down, fire trailing from them in brilliant golden streams.
“ Finally! ” she bellowed beneath him, even as his claws scored deep into her scales.
She shoved upward with a mighty heave, knocking him off, and they both spiraled into the air again, wings beating hard.
Izuku twisted midair, golden fire burning along his claws, space folding in quick, instinctive flickers.
He was everywhere at once—above her, behind her, claws raking down her sides, flames trailing in his wake.
But she was grinning now—relishing the fight.
Her tail lashed out again—he ducked this time—then lunged forward, his talons locking around her throat.
The two dragons spiraled downward, crashing into the arena again, dust billowing around them.
This time, Izuku was on top.
His claws pressed to her throat, golden fire flickering in his maw.
The white dragon coughed smoke, laughter rumbling deep in her chest.
“ There it is, ” she growled.
Izuku’s chest heaved, fire still burning hot behind his teeth.
She bared hers in a jagged grin.
“ You’re Apex now, fledgling. Whether you like it or not. ”
Dust curled in the air, thick and heavy, as Izuku loomed over the white dragon.
His claws pressed against her throat, talons burning hot where they met the frost-slicked scales. His chest heaved, smoke curling between his teeth, fire still pulsing deep within him, begging for release.
End it.
The instinct coiled in him, a command older than words—slay the evil, claim victory, prove you are Apex.
His jaw tightened, muscles straining as the fire crawled higher.
But he hesitated.
The white dragon’s massive form sprawled beneath him, her wings crushed against the shattered earth, blood seeping from deep gouges in her scales. Her gold-slit eyes burned into his—steady, unblinking, waiting.
She knew the instinct clawing at him.
“ Finish it, fledgling. ”
Her voice cracked through his skull, deep and ancient.
Izuku’s claws dug deeper, the pulse of the Dragon Soul thudding behind his ribs—
Boom.
Boom.
“ No. ”
The word came rough, raw.
She bared her fangs, blood streaking the edges of her jaws.
“ Cowardice? ”
“ Mercy. ”
His throat burned, the fire within fighting him, but he swallowed it down. “I won’t kill you.”
A beat of silence.
Then, slowly, her claws flexed against the ground, tension bleeding from her shoulders.
“ You don’t know what your actions mean. ”
Her voice was lower now, the weight of ancient laws threading through it.
Izuku hesitated. “I—I don’t care. I’m not—”
“ Strong enough to make that call? ” Her eyes narrowed. “ Yet, here you are, claw on my throat. You won. ”
She bared her fangs again, though this time there was no snarl behind it—just cold resignation.
“ You let me live. By the old code, my life is now yours. I am bound to it. Until your death or mine. ”
Izuku’s gut twisted.
“I didn’t—”
“ Doesn’t matter what you intended, fledgling. ”
She shoved his claws off her throat—hard enough to make him stumble backward, though not with enough force to restart the fight. Her massive head lifted, smoke curling from her nostrils as she glared at him.
“ I am Iszeryth Val’Kezzir, Scourge of the Northern Winds, Breaker of Frosted Peaks, and the Last Daughter of the Shattered Glacier. ”
Her name rolled heavy through the air, each title landing like a stone.
Izuku swallowed hard, his claws flexing against the fractured earth.
She snorted, smoke spiraling upward.
“ But fledglings like you can’t manage all that. Call me Seza. ”
Her tone twisted with disdain, a bitter edge threading through the words.
Izuku’s throat felt dry. “Midoriya Izuku.”
Seza’s eyes flicked over him—golden slits narrowing, cold calculation in their depths.
“ You’re a mess, Midoriya Izuku. And now, thanks to your mercy, I’m your problem. ”
The words hit harder than any claw swipe.
Izuku blinked, smoke curling out between his teeth. “...Huh?”
Before Seza could snap a retort, the sound of crunching rubble echoed through the settling dust.
“ Izuku? ”
The familiar voice cut through the chaos like a clean blade.
Izuku twisted his massive head, smoke spiraling upward, horns gouging deep into the fractured stone as he turned.
Euryale stood at the edge of the ruin, glass shards glinting at her feet, her snakes coiled tight, fangs bared and flicking with agitation. Her glasses sat low on her nose, reflecting the soft gold glow still bleeding from Izuku’s scales.
Her ruby-red eyes locked onto his towering, dragon-formed frame.
“ Izuku? ”
His throat rumbled with smoke, the weight of his fire still heavy in his chest.
“Y-yeah,” he rasped, his voice thick and doubled—his usual tone warped by the deep, draconic growl layered beneath. “It’s—” he coughed out a thin stream of smoke, “it’s me.”
Euryale pushed her glasses up with two fingers, completely deadpan.
She gestured vaguely at the mass of torn scales, wings, and horns that was now him .
“...You’re huge.”
“Th-thanks?” Izuku stammered, claws twitching awkwardly against the fractured earth.
Behind Euryale, the crowd was growing—students in scorched uniforms, teachers hurrying to form a defensive line, and Principal Nezu already scribbling furiously onto his clipboard, seemingly unbothered by the giant gold dragon in their shattered training field.
Euryale didn’t look back.
“You good?”
Izuku hesitated, the heavy beat of the Dragon Soul still pulsing deep in his chest—
Boom.
Boom.
He wasn’t sure what good meant anymore.
“...Sorta?” he offered weakly.
Euryale snorted. “Close enough.”
Seza let out a guttural rumble from beneath him, smoke curling from her nostrils.
“ You call that composure? He’s one claw twitch away from a panic spiral. ”
Euryale didn’t flinch.
“Yeah. That’s pretty normal.”
“ He’s an Apex now. That shouldn’t be normal. ”
“Yeah, well, he’s a mess,” Euryale said flatly, pushing her glasses up again. “But he’s our mess.”
Nezu finally padded forward, tail flicking in idle curiosity as he jotted down more notes.
“Well, this is going to be fascinating to analyze,” he chirped.
Izuku made a strangled noise deep in his throat—half-dragon growl, half human mortification.
Euryale tilted her head up at him. “Can you shift back, or are we dealing with this for the rest of the day?”
Izuku blinked.
“...Shift back?”
“Oh gods.” Euryale rubbed her temple.
Smoke curled lazily from his maw, his golden claws still dug into the fractured stone. The weight of the Dragon Soul still pulsed in his chest—
Boom.
Boom.
“Midoriya,” Nezu’s calm voice cut through the tension, his small frame perched atop a pile of rubble, clipboard balanced in his paw. “You do know how, right?”
Izuku coughed out another puff of smoke. “I—I mean, probably?”
Euryale sighed. “You don’t.”
“I just—this is my first time being—” he gestured awkwardly with one claw, knocking over another shattered beam, “— this! ”
“Fledgling,” Seza growled from beneath him, her golden slitted eyes narrowing. “ You barely deserve the title. ”
“I’m figuring it out!” Izuku snapped, though it came out more like a strangled growl.
Nezu adjusted his clipboard. “Polymorph, Midoriya. Dragons use it to shift forms.”
Izuku froze.
“...Oh.”
Euryale didn’t hide the exasperation in her voice. “You’re kidding me.”
“ He’s not, ” Seza rumbled, clearly regretting every life choice that led her here.
Izuku shut his eyes tight, focusing on the fire still curling inside him. The magic felt vast, heavy, but it was his . He found the thread Nezu mentioned—simple, elegant—and pulled.
A rush of golden light engulfed him, the dragon’s form folding inward, smoke swirling up in curling tendrils.
When it cleared, Izuku stood there—mostly human again. His clothes were torn, dust clung to his face, and faint golden scales still shimmered along his cheekbones. Smoke curled from his collar, his freckles glowing softly.
He coughed. “I—uh—I did it.”
Euryale crossed her arms. “You’re still smoking.”
Nezu scribbled something on his clipboard. “Apex draconic manifestation within Earth’s plane. That certainly wasn’t in the rift projections.”
“Principal Nezu, I’m really sorry—”
Nezu waved him off. “No permanent casualties. And this data is invaluable.”
Seza snarled low, her massive white form still sprawled behind Izuku.
“ You spared me, fledgling. My life is now bound to yours until your death or mine. ”
The weight of the words slammed into Izuku like a physical hit.
“Wha—Wait, that’s not—” He waved his hands frantically, but his voice cracked mid-sentence. “That sounds way worse than—”
Euryale stepped forward, her snakes coiled tightly, but there was a glint in her ruby eyes—one Izuku knew too well .
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“ You got married by accident again? Izuku?”
His brain short-circuited.
“ WHAT? ”
“Oh, come on.” Euryale crossed her arms, snakes flicking their tongues in amusement. “Soul-bonded. Life-debt. ‘Til death do you part. ” She gestured toward Seza. “You technically said ‘I do.’”
Seza reared her massive head back, frills flaring wide as she let out a furious snarl.
“ I WOULD NEVER BIND MYSELF TO A FLESHLING LIKE THAT! ” Her voice rattled the cracked stone, her tail slamming into the ground hard enough to split it deeper.
Euryale arched a brow. “Mmm. Sounds like denial.”
Izuku flailed his arms. “It’s NOT like that!” His voice shot up an octave. “It was ONE TIME!”
Euryale’s snakes all flicked in unison. “Oh yeah. Solus. ”
Izuku groaned, shoving his face into his hands. “It was ONE TIME , and I didn’t know what I was doing!”
Seza’s molten gold eyes narrowed.
“ You gave someone your true name? ”
“IT WAS A MISTAKE!”
Euryale was openly grinning now, leaning slightly toward him. “Izuku, baby, I love you, but this is the second time you’ve accidentally soul-bonded to someone. That’s a pattern. ”
“I—I DIDN’T—” Izuku’s face burned, redder than his own fire breath, as he waved frantically at her. “I’M NOT—THIS ISN’T—”
Seza growled deep in her throat, icy steam curling up from her maw.
“ If you think for a second I’d tie myself willingly to some half-baked, soft-clawed, magic-addled mortal— ”
“You did though,” Euryale cut in, voice light but sharp.
Seza’s frills flared again.
“ UNDER ANCIENT CODE! ”
Euryale tilted her head, snakes lazily flicking their tongues. “Still counts.”
“ I WILL FREEZE THE BLOOD IN YOUR VEINS, SNAKE. ”
Euryale smiled. “Try me.”
“CAN EVERYONE STOP THREATENING EACH OTHER?!” Izuku shouted, throwing himself between them, arms stretched out.
Nezu, who had been scribbling furiously on his clipboard the entire time, didn’t even look up.
“Ah, young love and dragon politics. Fascinating.”
Izuku shot him a wild look. “PRINCIPAL NEZU, PLEASE.”
Euryale, still smiling, looped an arm around Izuku’s shoulder, pulling him in with deliberate slowness.
“Don’t worry, Izuku. I’m not jealous .” Her snakes hissed softly. “But I do find it hilarious that you keep collecting people by accident.”
Izuku buried his face in his hands. “I hate this. I hate this.”
“ You love this, ” Euryale corrected.
“...Okay, a little. ”
Seza snorted, frost curling out into the air.
“ You mortals are exhausting. ”
Euryale squeezed Izuku’s shoulder, smirking at Seza. “Welcome to the club.”
Seza’s growl still rumbled low in her throat, steam curling from her nostrils, though her claws had relaxed against the fractured stone. Her golden eyes flicked between Izuku and Euryale, her tail still lashing with irritation.
Izuku, still half-hiding behind Euryale, peeked out and coughed awkwardly.
“Um… Seza?”
Her massive head snapped toward him.
“ What, fledgling? ”
He flinched. “C-could you, uh, maybe… shift into a smaller form?”
Silence.
The weight of her glare pressed down on him like a boulder.
“ Smaller? ” she echoed, voice laced with offense.
Euryale grinned. “You’re kind of hogging the field, Frostbite.”
Seza’s frills flared wide.
“ This is my natural form! ”
Izuku threw up his hands. “I know! I know, and it’s very—uh—impressive! But, um, you’re kind of… massive. And there’s still a lot of people around. And—”
Euryale leaned in, smirking. “She means you’re wrecking the place. ”
“ It was wrecked before I hit the ground, ” Seza snapped, then sighed hard enough to scatter debris. “ Fine. ”
Her wings flared wide one last time, frost swirling upward, before she closed her eyes.
There was a pulse of deep, ancient magic—a sharp drop in the air pressure—then a burst of cold mist as Seza’s massive body began to fold inward.
Her claws shrank, her scales shifted, and the towering frame of the white dragon condensed into a smaller, humanoid figure.
When the mist cleared, Seza stood in a tall, sharp-featured form—still distinctly inhuman, with white-scaled horns curling back from her head, pale frost-blue eyes, and sharp talons where fingernails should be. Her cloak of icy white scales shimmered faintly, her frills now thin markings running along her jawline.
She crossed her arms, unimpressed.
“ This is demeaning. ”
Euryale arched a brow. “You’re still like eight feet tall.”
“ I am showing restraint. ”
“Sure.”
Izuku coughed again, still a bit pink in the face. “T-thank you.”
Before Seza could snark back, Nezu hopped onto a chunk of broken stone, still scribbling into his clipboard.
“Well, that’s certainly a relief. Less structural damage moving forward.” He glanced upward at the empty sky.
The rift had closed.
But Izuku could still feel where it had been—like a phantom weight pressing at the edges of his mind.
Nezu’s smile didn’t fade, but his voice dipped into something more serious.
“That rift was… larger than the previous ones.”
Izuku’s heart sank. “I noticed.”
Nezu tapped his pen against the clipboard. “And the way it expanded in response to your transformation? That was unusual. The rift closed, yes—but its initial size wasn’t standard. It reacted to you.”
“Because of the Dragon Soul?” Izuku asked, tension tightening in his chest.
“Partially,” Nezu agreed, “but the rift shouldn’t have been that big, even with the Apex influence.” He tilted his head. “It suggests something’s pushing from the other side.”
Seza’s eyes narrowed.
“ It wasn’t you causing the size shift, fledgling. Something wanted through. ”
Izuku swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling.
Euryale, seeing it happening in real time, bumped her shoulder into his.
“Don’t overthink it yet. We’ve got time.”
Nezu didn’t look nearly as convinced.
“But not as much as we thought.”
Nezu tapped the end of his pen against his clipboard, eyes flicking between the ruined battlefield and the now-closed sky where the rift had torn through.
“The rift wasn’t just bigger—it responded to you.”
Izuku’s brows furrowed, heart still racing from the fight. “Because of the Dragon Soul?”
Nezu hesitated. “That was my first thought, but this felt... different. Like something was reaching out .”
Izuku felt it too now—the faint echo of the rift still hanging in the air. A pressure, distant but heavy.
It wasn’t just the Dragon Soul.
His mind raced backward—through everything he’d learned about the planes, about how rifts formed, about the way magic bled into non-magical spaces.
Then it clicked.
His breath caught.
“...It wasn’t reacting to me,” Izuku muttered, barely hearing himself over the rushing panic.
Nezu’s ears perked. “Oh?”
Izuku’s throat went dry. “It was reacting to it. ”
Euryale turned her head toward him, her snakes stiffening. “Izuku?”
He didn’t answer—his thoughts were moving too fast.
“The World Tree. We—we made contact.”
The weight of the words hit like a physical blow.
Eurayle’s narrowed eyes sharpened. “ You’re certain? ”
Izuku nodded slowly, horror creeping into his gut. “The World Tree’s roots... they’ve finally reached this plane.” He clenched his fists, his voice shaking. “That’s why the rift was bigger. It wasn’t just an unstable tear—it was a bridge.”
Nezu’s pen stopped mid-scribble.
“Meaning?”
Izuku swallowed hard. “The merging... it’s started. There’s no stopping it now.”
The air around them felt heavier all of a sudden—colder.
“Rifts won’t happen as often anymore,” Izuku continued, the words tasting bitter. “But that doesn’t make this safer. Now that there’s a stable connection, anyone who knows about the other plane—”
“—can force access whenever they want,” Nezu finished grimly.
Euryale cursed under her breath, her snakes hissing violently.
Seza’s face twisted into something between a grimace and a snarl.
“ Foolish mortals, always tearing at the edges of the weave without understanding the consequences. ”
Izuku barely heard her. His mind was still spiraling.
“They can come here. And we can go there. There’s... there’s no barrier anymore.”
Euryale stepped closer, grabbing his arm.
“Hey—breathe.”
Izuku exhaled shakily, smoke curling from his lips.
“I—I thought we had more time.”
Nezu finally spoke, voice calm but sharp with calculation.
“Then we’ll adapt. The timeline’s accelerated, but we always knew this was coming.” He smiled faintly. “Though I’d hoped we could at least finish the school year first.”
Euryale snorted despite herself.
Izuku didn’t laugh.
“Principal Nezu, this means anyone who knows about the other plane—mages, warlords, gods —they can all step through now.”
“Then we’ll need new defenses,” Nezu replied, entirely too calm for the stakes. “And contingency plans.”
Seza huffed frost through her nose.
“ You’ll need more than that, fledgling. The World Tree’s roots don’t stop growing once they’ve pierced a plane. Soon, they’ll burrow deep. You’ll have entire planar corridors forming in places you can’t see yet. ”
Izuku’s hands shook, but Euryale’s grip on his arm stayed firm.
“Then we find them,” she said flatly.
Nezu nodded once. “Agreed. And we start with the major ley points—if there are going to be permanent crossings, they’ll anchor there first.”
“...This is a lot,” Izuku muttered, the weight of it crashing down on him.
Euryale squeezed his arm. “We’ll handle it.”
Seza snorted again.
“ If he doesn’t pass out from panic first. ”
“ Seza! ” Izuku groaned.
Izuku exhaled hard, smoke curling from his lips as the full weight of the situation settled onto his shoulders.
“...I’ll need to rework the World Anchors ,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
Nezu’s ears perked, but it was Seza who reacted first.
Her sharp, frost-blue eyes flicked toward him, her frills twitching in interest.
“ World Anchor? ” she echoed, the sharpness in her voice cutting through the lingering smoke. “ What is this magic? ”
Izuku rubbed at his temple, feeling the heavy thrum of the Dragon Soul still pulsing in his chest.
“They were originally designed as stabilizers,” he explained, glancing between Seza and Nezu. “A way to delay the merging of the planes—hold things back, slow the spread of the rifts.”
Seza’s frills flared slightly, a growl curling low in her throat.
“ You tried to fight the pull of the World Tree? Foolish. ”
Izuku winced. “Yeah, I figured that out now, thanks.”
Euryale snorted. “She’s not wrong, though.”
Izuku sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging.
“But now that the World Tree’s actually made contact, the Anchors are useless in their current state. Delaying the merging isn’t possible anymore.”
Nezu tapped his clipboard thoughtfully. “So you’ll need to repurpose them.”
Izuku nodded, already running calculations in his head.
“I can rework them into a planar shield—instead of holding the merging back, they’ll act as a barrier against willful and forceful entry. I won’t be able to stop natural rifts caused by the planes overlapping, but I can stop anything from pushing its way through intentionally.” He hesitated. “ Hopefully. ”
Seza’s claws flexed at her sides, her interest sharpening.
“ A planar shield... ” she mused. “ You mortals are more clever than I thought. ”
“High praise,” Euryale deadpanned.
Seza shot her a sharp look but didn’t argue.
Izuku chewed on the thought, his mind already spiraling through the logistics.
“If I can adjust the Anchors to act as warding points, I can map out major ley overlaps and create a kind of protective grid over the most vulnerable areas. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll buy us time.”
Nezu’s tail flicked, clearly intrigued.
“And prevent direct invasions,” he mused. “Smart. That would limit external forces from forcing their way into our plane.”
“Exactly,” Izuku confirmed. “The merging is inevitable now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t control how it happens—or at least stop things from rushing through the door all at once.”
Seza rumbled in approval, though it sounded more like gravel grinding together.
“ If you can pull that off, fledgling, you might just survive this mess longer than I expected. ”
Euryale pushed her glasses up her nose.
“He does have a habit of surviving things he shouldn’t.”
“ By accident, I assume. ”
“Mostly.”
Izuku groaned. “You two are the worst .”
Nezu chuckled softly, though the sharpness never left his eyes.
“Then I suggest we don’t waste time. Every moment we delay gives someone else the opportunity to slip through before the Anchors are fully reworked.”
Izuku clenched his jaw, determination flaring through the weight of his exhaustion.
“Right. I’ll get started.”
Euryale glanced sideways at him.
“...After you eat. And sleep. Then save the world.”
Izuku hesitated, the gears in his head still spinning, but she shot him a look that brokered no argument.
“...Fine.”
Seza snorted, frost curling in the air.
“ Mortals and their weaknesses. ”
“ You’re mortal-bound now, Frostbite, ” Euryale shot back.
Seza bared her teeth. “ A fact I will regret daily. ”
Izuku sighed again.
“Yeah, welcome to my life.”
Izuku was halfway through mapping out the World Anchor rework in his head when Seza shifted her weight, her frost-blue eyes narrowing.
“ There’s one more factor you haven’t considered, fledgling. ”
Izuku froze.
Of course there was.
He inhaled slowly, steam curling from between his teeth. “Seza, please, I am begging you—let me have this one win before dropping more apocalyptic news.”
She ignored him completely.
“ Each plane connected to the World Tree has a Tarrasque. ”
Dead silence.
Euryale blinked behind her glasses. “I’m sorry. A what ?”
Seza flicked her claw lazily through the dirt, carving deep grooves into the fractured stone.
“ The World Tree uses them as anchors. Living ones. When a plane becomes fully entwined in its branches, a Tarrasque is born—either formed by the plane’s own magic or forced into existence as the roots take hold. It acts as a stabilizing force, ensuring the plane stays bound. ”
Izuku’s brain locked up for a beat before it jumpstarted again, pure panic hitting him like a truck.
“A Tarrasque— here? ”
Seza gave him a long, sharp-toothed grin.
“ Yours doesn’t have one yet. But it will. Once your plane settles into the World Tree’s branches, expect it. Sooner rather than later. ”
Euryale cursed under her breath, her snakes hissing violently.
Nezu jotted something calmly onto his clipboard.
“Fascinating. A native apex entity forming as part of the planar binding process. I’ll need to run simulations.”
Izuku, meanwhile, was visibly spiraling.
“A Tarrasque is a plane-breaker. It’s—it’s a walking catastrophe! If one manifests here—”
“ It will, ” Seza cut in smoothly.
“—then it’s not just rifts and invasions. The entire plane could destabilize under its weight.”
Euryale grabbed Izuku’s arm before he could pace a hole into the ground.
“ Izuku. Breathe. ”
He wheezed in another lungful of air, smoke curling out.
“But—but if I can reinforce the World Anchors fast enough—”
Nezu’s voice cut through, calm but precise.
“You’d be able to create a stabilizing grid strong enough to hold the plane together if the Tarrasque manifests at a leyline convergence.”
Seza snorted. “ It won’t. They never do. They go where the magic is thinnest. Where the plane’s at its weakest. ”
Euryale let out another string of curses under her breath.
Izuku groaned into his hands. “ I am never going to sleep again. ”
Seza’s grin widened, full of sharp teeth and cold satisfaction.
“ Welcome to the World Tree’s game, fledgling. You’re playing for keeps now. ”
Euryale glanced at Seza, then back at Izuku.
“...So. Dinner first, then maybe we save the world?”
Izuku sighed.
“...Yeah. Probably a good idea.”
Seza’s claws scraped shallow grooves into the fractured stone, frost curling in their wake.
“ The Tarrasque isn’t just an anchor. It’s the World Tree’s immune response. ”
Izuku stiffened. “Like a white blood cell?”
Seza flicked her tail, a low growl vibrating in her chest.
“ Exactly. When the World Tree latches onto a plane, it creates a stabilizing force—a guardian, not a destroyer. The Tarrasque devours anything that threatens the plane’s structural integrity, but it won’t go after natural stabilizers. ”
Nezu tilted his head, pen hovering above his clipboard. “So the World Anchors?”
“ Safe, ” Seza confirmed. “ They’re doing the same work the Tarrasque will—maintaining balance. The Anchors stabilize the ley currents, the Tarrasque safeguards the physical plane. There’s no conflict there. ”
Izuku exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders.
“Okay, that’s—good. One less disaster waiting to happen.”
Seza snorted, frost curling from her nostrils.
“ Don’t get too comfortable. The Tarrasque isn’t a threat to you—but it doesn’t care about mortal borders or settlements. It’ll go wherever the plane is weakest, and if that path cuts through cities, forests, rivers... it won’t hesitate. It’s not malicious. It’s just... inevitable. ”
Izuku grimaced.
“So it’s not here to fight us—but if we’re in its way, we’re collateral.”
“ Precisely. ”
Euryale crossed her arms, snakes flicking their tongues in irritation.
“Great. So a massive, indestructible plane-fixer is going to stomp through the countryside and ignore us—unless we’re too close to something it doesn’t like.”
Seza grinned, teeth sharp.
“ Now you’re getting it. ”
Nezu tapped his clipboard thoughtfully.
“And you expect one to form here?”
Seza’s frills twitched.
“ Every plane connected to the World Tree has one. Yours doesn’t—yet. But it will, once the plane fully settles into the Tree’s branches. ”
Izuku’s throat felt dry.
“Where?”
“ Where life is sparse. Somewhere quiet—empty. The Tarrasque manifests where it won’t immediately cause mass destruction. But once it’s awake, it’ll roam—seeking out weak points, sealing fractures, tearing out anything that threatens the plane’s stability. ”
Izuku let out a shaky breath. “So... it’s not the problem.”
“ No, ” Seza agreed. “ But it’s the end of the countdown. Once the Tarrasque forms, it means the merging is past the tipping point. You’re not delaying it anymore—you’re surviving it. ”
Nezu’s ears perked.
“Then the Anchors should be reworked for long-term stability, not just rift control. We need to make sure that when the merging completes, this plane doesn’t collapse under the strain.”
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yeah. I can do that. The Anchors can double as a planar shield—help regulate the natural overlaps but still allow the merging to happen gradually.”
Seza gave him a sharp, considering look.
“ You’re smarter than you look, fledgling. ”
Euryale grinned.
“ Told you. He’s good at this. ”
“ We’ll see, ” Seza muttered.
Izuku chuckled weakly, but the weight of it still pressed down.
“...Okay. First step—rework the Anchors. Second step—make sure no one tries to mess with the Tarrasque.”
“Third step,” Euryale cut in, “eat something before you pass out.”
Izuku sighed, smoke curling from his lips.
“ Fine. ”
The weight of Seza’s words still lingered in the air when a familiar voice cut through the dust.
“WHAT the absolute HELL just happened?!”
Izuku winced as Hatsume Mei skidded onto the fractured field, boots sparking against debris. Her goggles were pushed up onto her forehead, hair wild from the explosion shockwaves, and she wore a manic grin that only grew wider as her eyes locked onto Seza.
“You—” Mei gasped, pointing. “—are a REAL DRAGON.”
Seza bared her teeth in a snarl.
“Correct, flesh bag.”
“This is AMAZING!” Mei cheered, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Mei,” Momo Yaoyorozu sighed, stepping up behind her. Her uniform was dust-streaked, hair slightly out of place, but her composure held. “There was a rift. The entire field is destroyed. Could you focus for one second?”
Mei waved her off.
“There was a DRAGON, Momo! This changes everything!”
“It really does,” Momo admitted grimly.
Before Izuku could chime in, Denki Kaminari stumbled forward, nearly tripping over a chunk of debris before catching himself.
“Dude. You fought her? And survived?”
Seza snorted.
“Barely.”
“SO COOL!” Kaminari yelled, earning an eye roll from Seza and a muffled laugh from Izuku.
“Are you okay?” Momo asked, her eyes softening as she caught sight of the scratches on Izuku’s arm.
“I’m fine,” Izuku reassured, though the torn sleeves and dust-covered face didn’t help his case.
Euryale, standing quietly at his side, nudged him hard enough to make him stumble.
“Don’t lie to them. You almost got turned into dragon chow.”
“I’m fine,” Izuku groaned.
“Midoriya,” Momo warned.
He sighed. “Okay, mostly fine.”
Mei, still circling Seza at a very unsafe distance, threw her hands up.
“I’m in! Whatever this is, I want in.”
Momo pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Mei—”
“Seriously! Izuku, if you’re rebuilding anything, I’m helping. I’ve got, like, five ideas for rift stabilizers already.”
“I can help too,” Momo added. “Mapping leyline intersections, adjusting the World Anchors—you’ll need strategy for that.”
“And I’ll bring snacks,” Kaminari offered, before Momo shot him a glare. “Okay, and maybe help with, like, conduits. Or something.”
Izuku’s throat tightened, but this time, he didn’t argue.
“Thanks, guys.”
Before anyone could respond, Nezu’s bright, chipper voice cut through the air.
“Ah, that reminds me.”
The whole group turned toward him.
He was beaming. Never a good sign.
“This little incident has officially made the existence of magic public knowledge.”
Mei’s jaw dropped.
“I can finally patent my mana converters?!”
“Mei, focus!” Momo hissed.
“She’s not wrong,” Kaminari added. “People are gonna lose their minds.”
“They’re going to panic,” Euryale corrected flatly.
Aizawa, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, let out the heaviest sigh Izuku had ever heard.
“So much for subtlety.”
“There was never going to be subtlety after this,” Nezu replied cheerfully.
Izuku groaned. “We’re not ready for this.”
Nezu tilted his head, his grin widening.
“Then you’ll have to get ready. Fast. People are going to have questions. And eventually, someone’s going to need to answer them.”
Izuku blinked.
“That sounds like a you problem, Principal Nezu.”
“It won’t be,” Nezu replied, already walking away, tail flicking.
Izuku’s heart dropped.
“Wait—what does that mean?!”
Euryale patted his shoulder.
“You’ll figure it out. Probably.”
Izuku sighed, smoke curling from his nose.
“I need food before I spiral again.”
“Finally, something we all agree on,” Kaminari cheered.