However, All Might soon realized his first guess might have been wrong.
He might not have fallen under Tsuki Sengen's five-sense manipulation.
He might have been transported somewhere else entirely.
Because this plain was far too real.
The scent of fresh grass lingered in the air.
When he bent down and pulled up a blade of grass, he could feel the soft, damp texture of living plants between his fingers.
The soil clinging to its roots was moist.
The wind brushing past his skin was cool.
Every detail felt genuine.
If all of this was merely an illusion created by Tsuki Sengen, then his Quirk was far more terrifying than the police reports suggested.
But before the operation began, All Might had already known what kind of enemy he was facing.
Because of that, he had kept his mind sharp from the very beginning.
More importantly, ever since becoming the Symbol of Peace, he had fought countless enemies with countless kinds of Quirks.
Power types.
Spatial types.
Mental types.
Illusion types.
All of them.
Long ago, All Might had already trained himself to compensate for his weaker areas.
Naturally, that included resistance training against mental interference.
After all, the Symbol of Peace could not afford to have obvious weaknesses.
Nor could he allow himself to be controlled and turned against civilians.
Even now, he could not claim complete immunity against every mental-type Quirk in existence.
But detecting whether his mind had been influenced?
That much, he could still do.
And right now, All Might was certain.
His five senses had not been interfered with.
Nor was his mind trapped inside an illusion.
Still, caution never hurt.
So he decided to test it once more.
All Might took one step forward.
Then another.
Then the ground beneath his feet exploded.
In the next instant, his massive frame shot across the grassland like a cannon shell.
The peaceful plain was torn apart beneath him.
Grass bent flat under the pressure of his movement.
Soil cracked.
The air behind him howled violently.
Within seconds, a fierce storm formed in his wake.
It grew larger and larger, dragging dust, dirt, and torn grass into the air until it became a roaring tornado that stretched toward the sky.
Yet All Might did not slow down.
He continued running.
Faster.
Faster.
Every step left a deep crater behind.
Every movement sent violent shockwaves tearing across the field.
From a distance, the tornado behind him looked like a moving natural disaster.
But compared to the man running ahead of it, even that storm seemed almost insignificant.
Because the true disaster was not the tornado.
It was All Might.
At last, he stopped.
The storm behind him surged forward as if trying to swallow him whole.
All Might turned, raised one arm, and swung it casually.
A single motion.
That was all.
The tornado shattered.
The violent wind scattered in every direction, torn apart as easily as smoke.
Silence returned to the plain.
All Might lowered his arm and let out a quiet breath.
Then he looked around.
Ahead of him was still endless green.
Behind him were the scars he had carved into the earth.
Deep footprints.
Cracked soil.
Long trails of destroyed grass.
All of it remained exactly where it should have been.
Nothing faded.
Nothing distorted.
Nothing reset.
All Might's expression slowly grew heavier.
As expected.
This place was not an illusion.
His senses were not being deceived.
He had truly been transported somewhere.
No.
Perhaps "transported" was not accurate enough.
This was more like imprisonment.
A separate space.
A prison cut away from the real world.
His actual body had been thrown inside, not merely his consciousness.
And he had no idea where the exit was.
For a moment, All Might stood alone in the endless grassland, his cloak shifting quietly in the wind.
He had seen many dangerous Quirks before.
But a power capable of isolating him completely from the battlefield...
That was bad.
Very bad.
Because if he was here, then he was no longer inside the shopping mall.
He could not protect the civilians.
He could not stop Muscular.
He could not support Best Jeanist.
He could not even confirm whether his allies were safe.
That was the enemy's true goal.
Not to kill him.
Not yet.
They had removed him from the board.
The Symbol of Peace had been locked away before the real battle even began.
All Might clenched his fists.
His knuckles creaked.
The smile he always wore in front of others was gone.
In its place was a grave, almost frightening calm.
This was the worst-case scenario.
And somewhere outside this prison, the battle had already begun.
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