Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1565 Iron Fist Sanctions
Time seemed like frozen gel, so heavy it was suffocating.

Hiratsuka Shizuka's gaze was like a tangible probe, scanning Hikigaya again and again: from his pale, bloodless face to the hideous wounds all over his body, and finally pinning him to the demonic sword that exuded the abyss.

Her lips were pressed into a sharp line, her jawline was taut, and her sharp eyes, which always seemed to see into the minds of her students, were now burning with raging anger and unfathomable confusion.

"Hikigaya Hachiman,"

Her voice finally broke the silence, deep and rumbling like muffled thunder, each word carrying a heavy weight, crashing into the quiet night: "Explain! Now! Immediately! Otherwise, I don't mind using a 'special' way to help you remember!"

Hikigaya slowly raised his head.

He tugged at the corner of his dry, cracked mouth, which pulled at the wound on his cheek, causing a sharp pain.

The pain actually made him more alert.

He knew that those perfunctory excuses were unacceptable. He needed an answer, one that was substantial enough, shocking enough, and perhaps... enough to make her pause her questioning in her shock.

One that can explain this demonic sword, this power, and the source of this bloody aura.

He took a deep breath, the air thick with the stench of blood and earth filling his lungs, bringing a pungent chill. Then, in a low, hoarse, yet remarkably clear tone, he uttered that word, like a boulder thrown into stagnant water:

"Simply put it..."

"...I became a hero."

"Brave?"

The word, uttered by the high school student leaning against the blood-stained wall, gripping the Abyss Demon Sword, was like a red-hot iron thrown into an icy lake, instantly evaporating all of Hiratsuka Shizuka's realistic, even the boldest, speculations.

The expression on her face froze completely.

It was a blank space brought about by a pure, extreme cognitive shock that transcended anger, worry, and even astonishment.

Serious scrutiny, professional concern, vigilance against out-of-control forces... all the carefully constructed psychological defenses collapsed in the face of these two absurd yet weighty words.

Brave?
That hero who represents light, hope, the holy sword, and the princess in fairy tales, epics, and RPG games, symbolizing absolute justice and ultimately defeating the demon king...?
Her gaze, like an out-of-control searchlight, swept intensely back and forth between Hachiman's pale, weary face and the demonic sword beside him that seemed to be forged from nightmares themselves.

The sword seemed to sense her gaze; the huge eyeball at the end of its hilt suddenly opened, its turbid pupils contracting as it greedily "stared" at her. A chilling, viscous whisper, full of malice and temptation, instantly assaulted her senses.

This evil object, whose very existence profaned the word "sacred," clashed violently with the word "hero," which radiated holy light, in her mind, sparking piercing, dizzying flames.

The conflict was so intense that she felt a wave of physical nausea and dizziness.

"Brave...?"

Hiratsuka Shizuka repeated it almost subconsciously, her voice dry and filled with an unbelievable sense of absurdity.

She considered countless possibilities: was he possessed by some evil force? Brainwashed and manipulated by a secret organization? Did he accidentally acquire a cursed item he couldn't control? Even... the worst possibility was that he willingly embraced the darkness?

But "the brave one"? This option was so absurd that it never even appeared in her rigorous logical reasoning.

“You…” She struggled to find the words, her brows furrowed into a tight knot, “Have you been deceived? By some kind of… evil god disguised as a ‘hero’? Bewitched by those twisted monsters?”

This was the only logical chain she could barely understand.

A naive high school student, driven by despair or ignorance, is exploited by an evil entity, falsely given the title of "hero," and becomes its henchman.

Hachiman forced a bitter, almost exhausting smile, a smile devoid of any triumph, only a deep-seated weariness and a barely perceptible hint of mockery—perhaps directed at himself, or perhaps at this damned fate.

"No,"

His voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable resolve: "No one lied to me. This was my...voluntary choice."

He deliberately emphasized the word "voluntary," his gaze meeting Hiratsuka Shizuka's suspicious stare with a frank, even somewhat vacant, look.

System? Task? That cold notification sound and the mandatory contract?

He couldn't explain it, nor could he explain it clearly.

That would only complicate matters further, making it sound more like the ramblings of a mentally ill person.

At this moment, "voluntary" is the only shield he can throw out that can barely hold up.

"voluntary?!"

Hiratsuka Shizuka's tone suddenly rose, with a sharp, distorted quality.

The sense of absurdity receded like the tide, replaced by anger at being fooled and a deeper worry.

She strode forward, her blue high heels (heaven knows why they were high heels!) clicking rapidly on the ground, the huge bow on her magical girl dress swaying violently with her movements.

"Hachiman Hikigaya! Look at yourself! Look at this sword! Look at the wounds on your body! You tell me 'voluntary'? Voluntarily becoming this grotesque? Voluntarily wielding this thing that gives people nightmares just by looking at it? Voluntarily bringing yourself to the brink of death?!"

Her anger burned fiercely, not only because of the student's "stubbornness," but also because the "voluntary" act touched a raw nerve in her heart, revealing a pain and absurdity she herself couldn't express.

Hikigaya did not back down, even though the oppressive aura emanating from Hiratsuka Shizuka, a mixture of anger and powerful magic, almost suffocated him.

He leaned against the wall, struggling to support himself, but his gaze, precise and with a hint of retaliation, landed on Hiratsuka Shizuka's...shocking magical girl outfit.

From those overly sparkly blue high heels, to her extremely thin waist, to her outrageously short tutu, the focus finally settles on her face, flushed with shame and indignation.

"And what about you, teacher?"

His voice was still weak, but it was like a precise scalpel, instantly piercing through Hiratsuka Shizuka's armor of anger and reaching the bloody reality she least wanted to face.

"Why did you become like this? Why did you become a 'magical girl'? And you're wearing..."

He paused, as if searching for the most precise and lethal word, and finally, the sharp word deeply rooted in his personality and with a self-destructive tendency slipped out: "...such 'shameless' clothes?"

"Shameless!"
These four words exploded like four heavy bombs in Hiratsuka Shizuka's mind!
(End of this chapter)