OVERLORD Transmigration

Previously:

The starting buzzer screamed.

Bakugou launched first, explosion-propelled fist aimed at Izuku's jaw. Instinct took over—Izuku pivoted, his wing clipping Bakugou's shoulder with a sickening crunch. The blonde snarled, flipping midair to blast a gout of fire.

"Pathetic." Kitsu's talismans flared between her fingers before fizzling out—damn choker. She barely dodged Todoroki's glacier, the ice grazing her thigh. Blood dripped onto the concrete.

NOW:

Kitsu hit the ground rolling, fingers scrambling for the fallen talisman as Bakugou's second explosion shattered concrete where her head had been. The impact rattled her teeth. Across the arena, Izuku's wings snapped open—not the feathered appendages of his old Quirk, but the leathery membranes of some otherworldly predator. That detail would bother him later. Right now, adrenaline painted everything red.

Todoroki's ice crawled toward them in jagged spikes. Izuku barely registered the cold before his body moved—muscle memory from a hundred battles fought in another life. He wrenched Kitsu sideways just as Bakugou's gauntlet detonated the ice wall. Shrapnel peppered his back. The pain felt distant. Familiar.

"Stop treating this like a sparring match," Kitsu hissed, smearing blood from her split lip across her wrist. She was right. Izuku kept defaulting to restraint, his movements measured by UA's rules rather than the brutal efficiency Momonga had drilled into him. Across the smoke, Bakugou's eyes burned with the same realization.

The arena's emergency lights flickered on. Izuku exhaled, watching his breath curl white in the sudden chill. Something in his ribcage shifted—not bones breaking, but the last of his hesitation cracking apart. When Bakugou lunged again, Izuku met him midair, forearm slamming against forearm in a shockwave that buckled the stadium floor beneath them.

Kitsu's laughter cut through the dust. She'd finally gotten her hands on that damned talisman. The paper ignited between her fingers, and for one suspended second, the choker around her throat glowed molten red before shattering. Todoroki barely had time to raise a new ice barrier before her first incantation hit.

The explosion of raw magical energy tore through Todoroki’s ice barrier like parchment, sending razor-sharp shards spraying in all directions. Kitsu’s lips curled into a grin, her fingers already weaving another incantation—this one laced with crackling black lightning that hissed through the air like a living thing. Bakugou, ever adaptable, twisted midair to avoid the worst of it, but the stray bolts still seared across his forearm, leaving behind the acrid scent of burnt fabric and flesh.

Izuku didn’t waste the opening. He lunged, wings snapping tight to his sides as he barreled into Bakugou with the full, unrestrained force of a being who had once leveled castles. The impact sent them both crashing through the remains of a concrete pillar, dust and debris erupting around them. Bakugou wheezed, his breath knocked out, but his hands still sparked—always fighting, even when he was down. Izuku’s fingers tightened around his wrist, pressing the explosive palms flat against the ground. "Stay," he growled, and for the first time, Bakugou’s eyes flickered with something other than fury—recognition, maybe, of the predator staring back at him.

Meanwhile, Kitsu danced between Todoroki’s retaliatory blasts, her movements fluid now that her magic was unshackled. She dodged a spear of ice by inches, letting it embed itself in the ground before vaulting over it, her talisman already alight. The paper disintegrated in her grasp, and the resulting shockwave sent Todoroki skidding backward, his boots carving grooves in the concrete. "You’re good," she admitted, panting slightly, "but you’re still holding back." Todoroki’s mismatched eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, the ground beneath him erupted—not with ice or fire, but with thick, writhing vines that coiled around his legs like serpents.

Kitsu hadn’t cast that.

Izuku’s head snapped up just in time to see the third-year support student—Shiozaki, if he remembered correctly—emerge from the shadows of the ruined arena, her prayer beads gleaming as she murmured under her breath. The vines obeyed her every word, tightening their grip on Todoroki. A trap. They’d been too focused on each other to notice her creeping in.

Bakugou took advantage of Izuku’s distraction, wrenching his arm free and slamming a knee into his ribs. The pain was sharp, immediate, but Izuku barely flinched. Instead, he laughed—a rough, exhilarated sound that made Bakugou freeze mid-swing. "Finally," Izuku breathed, his voice low with something ancient and hungry. "You’re starting to take this seriously." His wings flared wide, casting a monstrous shadow over Bakugou as he surged forward, no longer holding back.

Across the battlefield, Kitsu met Shiozaki’s gaze and smirked. "Nice trick," she called, flicking another talisman between her fingers. "But you might want to brace yourself." The ground trembled—not from an explosion or spell, but from the sheer kinetic force of Izuku’s next move. He moved faster than Bakugou could track, his wings propelling him forward like a living projectile. Bakugou barely had time to raise his arms before Izuku’s shoulder rammed into his sternum, sending him careening backward into a half-crumbled wall. The impact cracked the concrete, dust billowing in thick plumes.

Todoroki struggled against the vines, his left side flaring with heat as he tried to melt through them. Shiozaki’s prayer beads clicked faster, her voice rising in fervor. The vines grew thorns, digging into Todoroki’s legs. Blood seeped through his uniform, but his expression never wavered. "You’re making a mistake," he ground out, his right hand glowing with gathering frost. Shiozaki didn’t respond—until Kitsu’s talisman landed at her feet with a quiet *tap*. The explosion that followed wasn’t fiery or concussive, but a burst of pure kinetic energy that sent Shiozaki skidding back, her vines withering instantly as her concentration broke.

Todoroki wasted no time. Ice erupted from his right palm, racing toward Shiozaki in jagged spears. She twisted away, but not fast enough—one grazed her shoulder, tearing fabric and skin. Kitsu whistled, impressed. "Guess I should’ve saved that talisman," she mused, already moving to flank Todoroki.

Izuku didn’t glance their way. His focus was locked on Bakugou, who was pushing himself up from the rubble, his gauntlets sparking erratically. Blood trickled from his temple, but his grin was feral. "About damn time you stopped pulling punches," he spat, flexing his fingers. The air around them crackled with the scent of nitroglycerin and ozone. Izuku exhaled, feeling the weight of his borrowed instincts—the ones Momonga had honed through endless and tireless nights.