Ascendant Across Realities.

(Ps: A different ending, for those who carve chaos.)

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The battlefield was silent, save for the faint crackle of fading energy.

Shigaraki and Midoriya, bloodied and battered, stood on opposite ends, surrounded by the wreckage of what had once been a battleground of heroes and villains. The force of their attacks, their struggles, had torn through the city, leaving a graveyard in its wake. The battle was over.

But the world was far from at peace.

Midoriya stood, his body trembling, trying to catch his breath, but the very air seemed thick with dread. The earth itself seemed to shift beneath his feet, as if reality was warping in the presence of something far more powerful than he could ever have imagined. His heart raced, not from his exhaustion but from an instinctual fear—a fear so deep, it threatened to consume him.

Shigaraki stood motionless, his crimson eyes wide in realization. "This isn't over," he muttered, his voice barely audible, yet filled with terror.

A low, guttural whisper reached their ears. It slithered like a serpent, wrapping around their minds.

"I… see… I… understand…"

Midoriya felt his legs go numb as the whisper echoed inside his skull, the ground trembling beneath him. His body screamed at him to flee, but his limbs remained frozen.

And then, from the very center of the battlefield, where Kurokai had once stood—nothing but a decaying husk, a broken vessel of a man—came a burst of black energy, seeping from his shattered form.

A pulse of cursed energy erupted from the wreckage, tearing through the remnants of the city like a tidal wave. It was chaos incarnate, devouring everything in its path. The sky darkened, not with clouds, but with the absolute void that was now Kurokai's being.

The Malevolent Shrine, once destroyed, began to reconstruct itself, but this time, it was no longer a shrine—it was alive.

It was no longer a collection of cursed bones, but a writhing mass of limbs, eyes, and cursed symbols. A living organism that pulsed with a heartbeat of its own.

From within that abomination, a pitch-black arm extended—large, grotesque, and powerful, its tendrils wrapping around the air as though shaping it into a new reality.

A twisted laugh echoed, so deep and guttural that it seemed to vibrate through the very ground.

And then, Kurokai's eyes—once a striking shade of blue—opened.

But these were not the eyes of a human.

They were eyes of pure void, endless blackness that swirled with energy older than the world itself.

He was no longer the man he had once been.

"I am the Lord Of Curses."

A being whose essence was now made of pure, unfiltered cursed energy.

Kurokai stood up, the decaying remnants of his human form twisting and reshaping, his body cracking and reforming with unnatural speed. His skin darkened to a deep, ink-black shade, veins of red and violet glowing beneath the surface, coursing with power.

The once-human face that had held so much pain, so much ambition, was now an abyssal mask, a grotesque and monstrous visage that no longer resembled humanity.

Markings, symbols of cursed energy, spread across his body, glowing with an ethereal light. Eyes—eight of them—appeared across his chest, each one a different manifestation of cursed energy. They glowed with a malevolent fire, capable of seeing through all space and time.

His form shifted, gaining eight elongated arms—each one adorned with a different cursed technique, each one capable of destroying the world with a single thought.

Midoriya felt his chest tighten as the pressure around them grew unbearable. The air itself seemed to bend and warp in the presence of the Lord of Curse.

"Is this the end?" Midoriya whispered.

The Lord of Curse turned toward him, his empty eyes locking onto Midoriya's soul.

"No. This is only the beginning."

The Lord of Curse raised one of his arms, and the world itself began to crumble.

Space twisted. Time fractured. The sky turned red as shadows crawled across the earth.

"Cursed Creation."

With a single thought, he unleashed the full force of his power. A wave of black energy washed over the battlefield, sweeping across everything in its path.

The heroes and villains alike fell to their knees, their bodies wracked with pain as their forms began to shift. Their souls, their very existence, was ripped from them, turned into cursed spirits by the Lord of Curse's will.

One by one, every living being on the battlefield—heroes, villains, the innocent bystanders—fell to their knees as their bodies began to warp.

Their faces twisted into grotesque, anguished expressions. The air was filled with their screams, but their voices were no longer their own.

They were cursed spirits now.

Their forms collapsed, the remnants of their souls now bound to the Lord of Curse's power. No longer human, no longer alive in any conventional sense.

The battlefield was filled with the silent scream of souls as they were consumed by darkness. Midoriya, his body trembling, could do nothing but watch as the world around him was reduced to nothing but cursed energy.

"No...!" Midoriya cried out, but his voice was drowned by the overwhelming force of Kurokai's transformation.

Shigaraki, who had been struggling to hold onto his sanity, felt his body being torn apart. His own body began to decay, but not by his own power. It was Kurokai's will—his curse—that was taking root.

Kurokai's form grew larger, his eight arms now towering over the battlefield. Each arm became a monstrous appendage, writhing with cursed energy, capable of manipulating the very fabric of the world itself.

The Lord of Curse turned to the sky, and with one final motion, he raised his hand to the heavens.

"The Age of Cursed Spirits begins."

The sky shattered. The sun was swallowed by a black void, replaced by an endless, eternal night.

Everything that had once been alive was now a curse, a twisted echo of its former self.

And the Lord of Curse—Kurokai—stood as the sole ruler of this new world, a world of cursed spirits, where no life could exist without the taint of his power.

----

The World Burns.

The sky bled black, the sun swallowed by a void that had no name. The stars flickered and died, their light snuffed out by an unseen force. Mountains crumbled, rivers dried to dust, and the very laws of nature began to break apart.

The spirits rose from the remnants of humanity—twisted, vengeful forms of those who had once lived. Every emotion that had ever been suppressed, every grudge, every sorrow, every fear coalesced into monstrous beings of pure Malevolence.

They crawled from the shadows, hungry, endless, eternal.

In Shibuya, a cursed being resembling All Might stood, its body a grotesque mockery of the fallen Symbol of Peace.

In Kamino, the spirit of Endeavor burned endlessly, screaming as his own flames consumed him.

In Tartarus, the spirits of countless prisoners wailed, fusing into a monstrous abomination that devoured everything in sight.

The dead would never rest.

Their souls, no longer free to move on, fed the curse-ridden nightmare that Kurokai had created.

----

The familiar screen appeared before him, its cold, indifferent words flashing before his eyes.

[Ding!]

[The maximum number of faith points has been reached. It is time to leave this world.]

Kurokai's gaze shifted back toward the world he had forged, the cursed spirits that now filled the land, his creation—a world where no human soul existed untouched by his curse.

"World travel?" He whispered, a twisted smile forming on his lips.

[You will remain in this world as a connection to continue harvesting power.]

The screen flickered momentarily before the words continued.

[A portion of your soul will be sent to the next world as a new entity.]

Kurokai considered the words carefully, his hands crackling with cursed energy.

[Choose one power to transfer to your new self.]

He glanced at the infinite void that stretched before him—endless, eternal, with no more resistance, no more hope.

His eyes glowed brighter as the cursed energy around him surged.

And just like that, the Lord of Curse—Kurokai—prepared to move on.

The age of cursed spirits had begun.