Chapter 127 : The War Drums on Gunga Mountain

The dawn on the day of the raid felt different. It wasn't a dawn that brought hope, but one that held its breath, a heavy silence before an inevitable storm. I was inside the U.A. Mobile Command Center (MCC), a moving fortress filled with monitor screens and busy technicians. Outside, in the gray pre-dawn light, I could see the silhouettes of dozens of pro heroes, the greatest fighters in Japan, preparing for the biggest battle of their lives. The atmosphere inside the MCC was so tense it felt like there was static electricity in the air.

I sat before a tactical console, across from Principal Nezu. In front of me were a dozen screens displaying real-time data: satellite imagery, thermal readings, and a three-dimensional layout of the Deika underground complex that I had helped put together. My role in this war was strange. I was not a soldier on the front lines. I was a phantom architect, a strategist whose source of knowledge could not be explained. Every prediction I made, every enemy weakness I pointed out, was a gamble with my secret.

"All teams are in position," Aizawa's flat voice came through the communicator, sounding from one of the raiding units. "Awaiting your command, Nezu."

Nezu looked at me, his black beady eyes seeming to ask, 'Are you sure?'. I could only nod. I had told them everything I remembered: about the lieutenants' powers, about their command structure, about the possibility of a massive army. Now, all I could do was trust in the heroes and in the accuracy of my memories from another world.

"Alright," Nezu said, his calm voice now echoing across all hero communication channels. "All units, listen closely. This is no longer a drill. This is no longer a villain apprehension. This is a war for the future of our society. Fight smart, protect your comrades, and show them the true power of heroes. Operation Liberation... begins now."

As the order was given, I watched on the screen as the front line of heroes began to move. It was an incredible sight. Led by Endeavor, the new Number One Hero, the main assault team charged forward like a spearhead of fire.

On the front line, Endeavor held nothing back. "FORWARD AND FOLLOW ME IF YOU CAN!" he roared, unleashing a giant Flashfire Fist: Jet Burn that turned the front gate of Deika City into a sea of flames. At his side, Mirko, the Rabbit Hero, moved like a white meteor, her powerful legs destroying watchtowers and launching the first MLA soldiers they encountered into the air. They were the personification of overwhelming power, an unstoppable tidal wave designed to create shock and awe.

The other heroes followed behind them, each using their Quirks with deadly efficiency. Edgeshot slipped past defenses like a thread, disabling enemy squad commanders from within. Kamui Woods grew giant branches, ensnaring dozens of soldiers at once. Fat Gum absorbed a volley of projectile attacks, protecting the more vulnerable heroes behind him. The first wave of our attack was a resounding success. The MLA's outer defenses, though disciplined, crumbled under the combined power of Japan's top-ranked heroes.

"They've breached the outer perimeter!" one of the technicians in the MCC exclaimed with joy. "They're heading for the main entrance of the underground facility!"

I felt no joy. I only felt a growing sense of foreboding. This was too easy. 'It's a trap,' I thought. 'They're intentionally letting us in.'

Deep in his underground command center, Re-Destro watched the destruction above on his monitors with a calm expression, almost like a chess player deliberately sacrificing some of his pawns. "They've taken the bait," he said to his lieutenants.

"Their spirits are too high," said Trumpet, the politician. "They underestimate us."

"Let them," Re-Destro replied. He turned to a master microphone. "Lieutenant Trumpet, it is time."

Trumpet smiled, placing his hand on a broadcast control panel. "With pleasure, Mr. President."

On the battlefield, the MLA soldiers who had been retreating in a panic suddenly stopped. From hidden loudspeakers all over the city, the charismatic voice of Trumpet, amplified by his Incitement Quirk, began to echo.

"MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS OF THE LIBERATION ARMY!" his voice thundered. "Look at those tyrants! They have come to our home, to our sacred land, to shackle us again! They fear our power! They fear our freedom! Will we let them?! Will we bow to their oppression?!"

"NEVER!" roared tens of thousands of soldiers in unison, their voices shaking the ground.

"Then rise!" Trumpet yelled. "Show them the power of an unquenchable spirit! Show them the true meaning of LIBERATION! Fight to the last drop of blood for our future! FOR META LIBERATION!"

As if injected with a spirit-enhancing drug, the previously frightened MLA soldiers now turned around with eyes blazing with fanaticism. They were no longer fighting for survival. They were now fighting for a sacred cause. They charged back toward the heroes with a desperate, blind courage.

At the same time, the other lieutenants moved. Geten, from his deep position, felt the vibrations of the battle above. He closed his eyes, and with a single breath, he unleashed his power. In the main tunnels where the heroes had just entered, the air temperature dropped drastically. Giant ice walls suddenly erupted from the floor and ceiling, separating the hero teams, trapping them in narrow, frozen corridors.

In the MCC, our screens were filled with danger signs. "Team Endeavor is blocked by an impenetrable ice wall that seems to be regenerating!" a technician reported. "Team Delta is trapped in Sector 7! Communication with Team Gamma is completely cut off!"

Our surprise attack had failed. We had walked straight into their trap.

I gripped the edge of my console, my eyes fixed on the tactical map now filled with isolated and surrounded hero icons. I had given them the layout. I had given them the information. But I had underestimated the enemy's ability to adapt and use the battlefield to their advantage. The story I remembered was just a skeleton; the flesh and blood of a real war was far more chaotic and unpredictable.

Nezu looked at the chaotic map, his usually calm face now showing a deep seriousness. He turned to me. "Your intelligence gave us the entrance, Tatsumi-kun," he said, his voice quiet yet heavy. "But it seems we have just willingly walked into an ice tomb."

Outside, in the mountains of Gunma, the true war drums had just been beaten. And we, the heroes, were the ones now on the defensive.