"I am the demon lord. The Symbol of Evil."
---
'Damn you, All Might!'
That was the final thought that coursed through All For One's mind as the United States of Smash connected with his face, shattering his helmet—his movable life support system—and ending his life in an instant.
With that decisive blow, the century-old villain who had terrorized Japan for decades met his end at the hands of the Symbol of Peace. The clash unfolded before the eyes of an entire nation, cementing it as one of the most significant moments in Japan's history of heroism.
All Might, though gravely injured, had survived. All For One, however, had not.
His death left a gaping void in the criminal underworld, but his disciple and successor, Tomura Shigaraki, had already fled the scene. Thanks to the intervention of his now-deceased mentor, Shigaraki escaped the authorities and was poised to inherit the remnants of his master's empire.
The death of the master of the League of Villains served as a monumental morale boost to heroes everywhere. Celebrations erupted, and hope ignited once more, with many heralding the dawn of a new era of peace.
But they failed to foresee the storm that lingered on the horizon.
Even in death, the Demon Lord's shadow remained.
Within Shigaraki, the vestige of All For One's quirk began to take root, shaping him into the perfect vessel. The Symbol of Peace had slain the original, but his essence was far from extinguished.
This wasn't the end for All For One.
It was merely the beginning of the bloodiest era Japan had ever known since the rise of quirks.
Tomura Shigaraki was no longer just a successor or an heir. He was now the vessel for the rebirth of the Demon Lord.
All For One would rise again, and this time, he stood at the center of a battle that would redefine the world of heroes and villains alike.
The era of heroes would become no more than history.
---
The Arrival
---
In another world, dimensions away from Japan, heroes, and even villains, a young white-haired boy named Bell Cranel found himself hurled out of yet another Familia's hall. His dream of joining a Familia, diving into the Dungeon, and becoming a hero—and saving girls, of course—was crushed once again.
This time, however, it was crushed far more harshly than usual. Bell was thrown out so roughly that he lost his footing, his head slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. He collapsed in a heap, unmoving.
The Familia member who had tossed him out didn't so much as glance back, slamming the door shut behind him with a dismissive air.
For a brief moment, Bell's still body looked as though life had fled from it entirely.
But then, his eyes snapped open, wide and frantic. He gasped, drawing in deep, desperate breaths as if tasting air for the first time in ages. His chest heaved, and his panicked gaze darted around the unfamiliar surroundings.
He clutched at his head as though wracked by an unbearable headache, his expression a mix of confusion and disorientation. Slowly, unsteadily, he forced himself to his feet, legs trembling as though they could barely support him. Without any clear direction, he began to stumble away.
To an observer, nothing particularly unusual seemed to have occurred.
To the petite goddess who had been watching him, however, it was a moment of tense relief.
"I almost thought he was dead for a second," she murmured nervously, laughing at herself for overreacting. But her concern lingered, her brows furrowing as she watched the young man struggle.
"I'd better ask him to join my Familia before someone else rejects him again—or worse," she muttered.
Walking past the building from which Bell had been so violently ejected, she cast it a withering glare. "Some people," she huffed in disdain.
---
All For One awoke gasping for air, his lungs greedily drawing in each breath like a drowning man surfacing from the depths.
Pain throbbed through his skull, sharp and relentless—a sensation eerily similar to All Might's fist smashing into his face again and again. Something was wrong—very wrong.
Memories flooded his mind, foreign and alien.
"Remember, Bell! Peeking on the ladies is a man's romaaaanceee!"
The voice grated against his very soul, drawing an involuntary twitch from his eye. It was the memory of an old man—a ridiculous, lecherous figure.
Staggering to his feet, he forced his shaky legs into motion, wandering aimlessly as his mind raced to comprehend his situation.
Had the doctor somehow managed to revive him? No—impossible. His brain had been destroyed beyond repair.
His eyes scanned his surroundings, taking in the medieval European architecture that lined the streets. No skyscrapers, no bustling cities—only a town pulled straight from the pages of a history book.
And then there were the people.
A glimpse of a passing figure caught his attention: a humanoid girl with feline ears and a tail. A cat girl?
All For One had always hated cats.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he noticed another detail: he could breathe normally. His hands, pale and slender, were not his own. Touching his face, he found it smooth, unmarred by scars or injuries.
The memories he had been resisting began to surface again, this time offering clarity.
Bell Cranel. Fourteen years old. Aspiring adventurer.
All For One clenched his jaw. These memories, foreign and intrusive, reminded him of the quirk vestiges he had dominated in the past. He would not allow the naive dreams of this child to overwhelm him.
With a ruthless thought, he buried them deep, silencing their influence entirely.
"This is my body now," he muttered with a cold smirk.
Another breath. The sensation of life was exhilarating. "It feels good to breathe normally again," he murmured, a note of satisfaction in his voice.
He focused, attempting to activate his sensory quirks. Nothing happened.
A flicker of panic surged through him. He tried again, harder this time—still nothing.
The void where his All For One quirk stored countless abilities now felt empty. The countless powers he had amassed over the decades were gone.
A shame, he thought bitterly.
As he pondered his next move, he noticed someone trailing him poorly—a clumsy tail.
Turning into a narrow alley, he waited, his instincts sharpening.
Moments later, a girl peeked around the corner, only to yelp in surprise and tumble to the ground.
All For One glanced down at her, taking in her appearance: blue eyes, long black hair tied into twin tails, and a revealing white dress accented with blue ribbons.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone soft yet laced with menace. "Are you a prostitute? I'm not interested. Don't follow me."
Her face flushed scarlet. "I'm not a prostitute! I'm a goddess!"
His brow arched in mock curiosity. "That's exactly what a prostitute would say."
"I'm serious!" she huffed, puffing out her chest indignantly. "I'm Hestia, goddess of hearth and home!"
All For One stared at her blankly, wondering if she had escaped from an asylum.
Her confidence wavered under his scrutiny. "Uh... I was wondering if you'd like to join my Familia," she stammered, looking away nervously.
Familia, he thought, sifting through Bell's memories. Groups formed by gods to explore a Dungeon and fight monsters.
Bell had desperately wanted to join one.
But he was no Bell Cranel. He was the Demon Lord, the Emperor of the criminal underworld. Serving a false god was beneath him.
Yet, this "goddess" might prove useful in his current situation.
"Very well," he said, offering a disarming smile. "I'll join your Familia."
Her face lit up with excitement. "Really?! You'll join?!"
"Of course," he replied smoothly, already devising ways to exploit her naivety.
"Follow me!" she said cheerfully, leading him toward an unknown destination.
He followed her silently, needing knowledge—a foundation. Bell Cranel's memories were woefully insufficient, mostly filled with idiotic hero tales told to him by that old pervert of a grandparent.
That old man was really annoying.
---
Arriving in front of a run-down, clearly abandoned church, the so-called goddess sheepishly scratched the back of her head.
"It's not much now, but we'll work our way up to a mansion one day. Just wait!" she declared with fiery determination.
The sight of the dilapidated building made All For One reconsider his earlier thought of using the Hestia Familia's funds to establish a criminal network. If this was the state of her "headquarters," there likely weren't any funds to speak of.
Still, he forced a polite smile. "I've lived in worse." The statement wasn't entirely untrue.
Following her inside, he descended into the basement. His eyes scanned the small, sparse room, which contained only a beat-up bed, a couch, and a hearth.
It wasn't as bad as he'd expected.
"What's your name, by the way?" Hestia asked suddenly, as if just remembering that crucial detail.
All For One paused, considering his options. There was little reason to draw suspicion now. The name Bell Cranel served his purposes just fine for now.
"Bell Cranel," he answered smoothly, his tone courteous. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Hestia beamed at his politeness, clasping her hands together. "What a gentleman! Now, take off your shirt!"
All For One stared at her, deadpan. "Was this some elaborate trap to have your way with me?"
Her face turned a deep shade of crimson. "No! It's for the falna process!" she explained hastily, her words tripping over each other. "I need to draw it on your back to give you my blessing!"
The falna. The supposed "blessing" of the gods. He'd gleaned enough from Bell's memories to know this was an essential part of joining a Familia.
"Very well," he said, removing his shirt. His physique wasn't much to boast about—a reflection of Bell's youthful, untrained body.
"Lie down over there," Hestia instructed, pointing at the tattered bed.
He complied, though his patience was wearing thin. Then, without warning, she hopped onto his back.
"Is that really necessary?" he asked, his tone laced with irritation.
"Absolutely!" she replied with far too much enthusiasm, her hands beginning to trace symbols across his exposed skin.
The process dragged on for several minutes.
Finally, Hestia's voice broke the silence. "You already have a skill?" she muttered, her tone a mix of surprise and caution.
All For One's eyes narrowed slightly. "What is it?"
She hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-trace. "It's called All For One." Her voice wavered, carrying a note of unease. "It lets you take and give away abilities from others... That's... really dangerous."
Not even three hours into this world, and his greatest secret had been laid bare. Eliminating her would be the simplest course of action.
A shame.
But then she continued, her tone growing grave. "Listen, Bell. You can't use that skill. If the other gods find out, they'll do anything to take you—or worse."
Her words gave him pause. There was logic to her warning. The last thing he needed was to attract the attention of deities before he could solidify his foothold in this world.
"Are you going to tell anyone?" he asked, his tone deceptively mild, though his intent was anything but.
Hestia looked horrified by the suggestion. "Of course not! What kind of goddess would I be if I put my own familia in danger?"
Her genuine indignation made him reconsider. Killing her now would cause unnecessary complications, especially if it drew the attention of other gods.
"All right, goddess," he said with an air of agreement. "I won't use it for now, if you say it's so dangerous."
The lie was easy, but it wasn't entirely false. He wouldn't use the skill now, as there were no suitable targets. That didn't mean he wouldn't use it later.
Hestia's face brightened, oblivious to his true intentions. "Good!" she chirped. "You'll need to register at the guild tomorrow, so rest up!"
She handed him a slip of paper, which he took with mild curiosity. Moving to the worn-out couch, he scanned its contents.
"This is..." he muttered irritably, his gaze tracing over the RPG-like mechanics that quantified his progress—or lack thereof.
It was a glaring reminder of his current weakness.
"Tomura would have loved this nonsense," he remarked dryly.
The thought of his former protégé brought a flicker of bitterness. So much planning, all wasted because of that buffoon All Might.
But no matter. He would adapt to this world now, as he always did in any other situation.
This world would underestimate him. And that was exactly how he wanted it.
---
AN:
Hey, this is my first time writing anything, so sorry if it's not great. I'm just testing out my skills with this idea.
I literally dreamt about this one day, and it stuck in my head—so now it's a chapter, lol.
English isn't my first language (or even my second—it's my third), so expect some mistakes and slow updates.
Notice: This is a rewritten version.