A swirling vortex of black-purple mist tore through the smoke-choked air, widening until it was large enough for a crowd to pass through.

He was already moving toward the crumpled figure in the center of the crater—Izuku Midoriya, both arms hanging useless and blackened, his costume shredded beyond recognition.

Behind him, the portal pulsed. More figures spilled through—Present Mic, Death Arms, Gang Orca, Thirteen, Hound Dog, Cementoss, Vlad King, Snipe.

And then the students. Class 1-A, battered and bleeding, but standing.

Class 1-B, pouring through with them. Kendo supported Shiozaki, who clung to Shishida's back with vines already lashing outward. Kuroiro melted from the shadows near the gate's edge. Tetsutetsu cracked his knuckles, steel spreading across his skin.

Above them all, All For One hung suspended in the air, thin and corpse-like, his long white hair whipping in the wind, a hand of grafted skin sealing his mouth shut.

Metal tendrils extended from his back, coiling and snapping at the air like serpents.

The remnants of Tomura Shigaraki's body twitched.

The war was not over yet.