Mewtwo's psychic energy surged through his body at full force, every nerve screaming under the strain. The light around him thickened—it was no longer just energy. It formed around him, taking shape, pressing against his skin until it felt solid. His body trembled, aching worse than it ever had before. The sphere of energy condensed tighter and tighter until it exploded into a flash of blinding light.
For everyone else, it lasted less than two seconds.
For Mewtwo—forcing every last ounce of power out of himself, preparing what he thought would be his final strike—it felt endless. The pressure crushed him from the inside. His head throbbed like it was splitting apart. Every fiber of his body screamed in pain, his muscles twisting as if tearing themselves away from the bone. Instinctively, he wrapped his tail around his head, feeling his horns shift—growing, changing. His entire form felt like it was being rewritten.
Everything was strange. Everything hurt.
And then, suddenly… it stopped.
The pain vanished. His head felt light—almost hollow, almost soft, like cotton drifting through air. He felt new. Reborn.
The sphere shattered. From the outside, it looked like glass breaking in every direction. Light flooded the room, swallowing everything around it. When Mewtwo stepped out, the glow wrapped him completely—and above his head, a multicolored DNA symbol spun slowly, pulsing with psychic fire.
The false heroes—those born from the nightmare—didn't move. But the villain behind it all did.
Mewtwo's appearance had changed completely.
He still looked like himself, but not quite. His tail was gone—or perhaps it had transformed, now extending from the back of his head like a living strand of energy. The strange organ on his neck had disappeared. His horns had sharpened, curving forward and joining together in a sleek arc, like a halo made of power.
His body was smaller—childlike, even—but the aura he gave off was immense. His proportions were balanced now, his hands and legs even, his stance steady. The tips of his fingers glowed a deep, luminous purple.
He turned toward the heroes. His head moved so fast it left blue afterimages hanging in the air. Then—
In an instant, he was gone.
He reappeared right in front of Lady Nagant. With a single flick of his hand, he unleashed a Psycho Cut. The slash of psychic energy split her in half effortlessly, as if her body were made of paper. The blade didn't stop—it continued through the air, cutting down Nejire and Tamaki as they charged, erasing them in a single, blinding strike.
For Mewtwo, it was strange. He knew how Agility worked—how it could multiply his speed—but there had always been limits. Two, to be exact.
The first was simple: endurance. He couldn't sustain it for long. The first use doubled his speed, yes, but after the second, the effect dropped to barely twenty percent, and after a third, only five. Beyond that, his body just couldn't keep up.
The second limit was harder to overcome: perception. Training helped, and time helped more, but even so, when his body moved too fast, his eyes and brain struggled to keep up. He could compensate a little with Laser Focus, sharpening his awareness for a moment—but even that had a ceiling.
But now… now it was different.
Everything moved slowly around him. His perception had caught up to his body. He could see every motion, every twitch, every shift in the air. Aside from a few heroes—All Might, Hawks, maybe Endeavor—he doubted anyone could even register his speed anymore.
From the corner of his eye, a blur. A white paw flashed toward his face—Mirko's kick, straight and fierce.
He tilted his head, spun gracefully in midair, and let her attack slice past him harmlessly.
Before she could recover, he raised one hand.
An Electro Ball flared to life and shot forward, slamming into Mirko's back. She gasped, muscles locking from the shock. Mewtwo didn't hesitate—he followed instantly with Psychoshock, crushing her legs where she stood. And as her body began to collapse, he ended it—a single Shadow Ball tore through her skull, the explosion erasing her completely.
No pause. No wasted movement.
The moment Mirko fell, three more came at once—Endeavor, All Might, and Hawks—charging together at speeds that blurred even his new perception. Their combined force hit like a meteor, and the impact threw Mewtwo across the house, tearing through walls and leaving a massive crater in his wake.
But something was different this time.
When the dust settled, Mewtwo wasn't broken. He floated still, arms extended forward. Around him shimmered a sphere—a translucent shell of multicolored light, cracked but holding. The barrier pulsed with psychic energy, absorbing the last remnants of the heroes' strikes.
The cracks spread slightly where All Might and Endeavor had hit him hardest. But Mewtwo remained untouched, calm—unnaturally calm. Inside the shimmering sphere, his breathing steady, his eyes cold and clear.
It felt as if Calm Mind itself had taken root inside him.
Permanent.
Immediately, Mewtwo repaired the cracks in his barrier—the fractures sealed in an instant, the energy around him pulsing back to full strength. Without hesitation, he launched forward. The appendage on his head arced with electricity, lighting up the air as his body blurred into motion.
This time, his plan was clear: eliminate every distraction before it could interfere. His eyes locked on Ryukyu and Snipe—both support fighters, both capable of covering the stronger heroes. If he wanted a clean fight against the main threats, they had to go first.
But getting to them meant passing through a storm.
As Mewtwo darted forward, every hero moved at once. From the corner of his vision, two new presences appeared—Gang Orca and Yoroi Musha, materializing from the shadows like reinforcements. They hadn't been there before. The nightmare was adapting.
Musha's blade flashed toward him from the left. Orca's massive fist swung from the right.
Mewtwo reacted instantly. His barrier condensed around him like armor, shrinking tight to his body as he twisted between both attacks. The air split around him as he countered, slashing with a wide Psycho Cut. The arc of psychic energy sliced clean through both heroes at once. Their forms broke apart, dissolving into shimmering fragments before hitting the ground.
"Two more," he muttered under his breath.
He could feel it—these copies weren't perfect. Their strength and reaction time didn't match the originals. Hawks, for example, was still fast, but slower than he remembered. Endeavor and All Might were the only ones that felt close to the real thing.
So that's the catch I was right, he realized. He can replicate them—but not completely. He knows their powers, not their instincts. He can't fake what he doesn't understand.
Lady Nagant had already proven that. She'd been off—slower, less precise.
He turned his focus forward again. There was no time to waste.
With one burst of speed, Mewtwo shot through the hall, raising his hand. A swarm of radiant stars erupted from his palm—hundreds of them, streaking through the air like bullets of pure light. Every copy in their path vanished, erased in flashes of silver and violet. His classmates, the lesser heroes, the remnants of the nightmare's army—all gone.
When the light faded, only four figures remained standing before him.
All Might. Endeavor. Hawks. Mirio.
And beyond them—lurking just behind the illusion of heroes—the one pulling the strings.
The source of the nightmare itself.
Now Mewtwo could finally focus on the real threats—the only ones still capable of hurting him, maybe even killing him. He wasn't sure if the Symbol of Fear's power had more hidden layers, so he couldn't take chances. The first to go had to be Mirio—the weakest link among the four.
Against him, Mewtwo had countless ways to win. And now, it would be even easier.
Without blinking, he lifted a stone from the ground behind Mirio, charging it with psychic energy. The pebble glowed faintly violet, then vanished from sight as Mewtwo propelled it forward with telekinesis. The projectile struck with impossible speed—too fast for Mirio to react. The stone cracked against the side of his skull, cutting the young hero's movement short instantly.
Mewtwo didn't even glance to confirm. He already knew it was over. The version of Mirio before him wasn't the one who'd fought at full strength; it was a copy from the Sports Festival—a shadow of the real thing, barely a threat.
His next target was Hawks. The fastest among them. Or at least, usually. But now… even that advantage had faded. All Might's movements were catching up to him, matching his speed almost perfectly.
In the blink of an eye, All Might appeared behind Mewtwo, his massive hand reaching to grab him. At that same instant, Hawks's feathers shot forward like blades, aiming straight for his chest. Endeavor, just behind them, charged both fists with roaring fire, ready to crush everything ahead.
The three heroes struck together.
Mewtwo's barrier flashed alive, the psychic shell trembling violently as All Might's fingers and Hawks's feathers slammed against it. Cracks spread like lightning across its surface. It held—barely. But Mewtwo knew the next blow would shatter it.
That blow came from Endeavor.
Before the flames could land, Mewtwo made his move.
In a single fraction of a second, he dropped the barrier and blurred forward, closing the gap with Hawks. When he saw Endeavor's punch ignite, Mewtwo struck first. A pulse of Psychoshock exploded from his hand—at point-blank range. The blast hurled Hawks backward, straight into Endeavor's incoming fist.
The collision triggered a massive eruption of fire and shockwaves.
The two pro heroes vanished inside the explosion.