To not confuse you all, I use these to change scenes or P.O.V's.
"___" Changing P.O.V.
"..." Changing scenes or timeskip.
____
A few minutes after entering the auditorium, he took in the sight of the room, packed wall-to-wall with students from all sorts of middle schools. Typical for U.A., he supposed. He pushed the thought aside, found an empty seat, and sank into it.
"Pretty fancy place, huh..." he muttered, glancing around.
The overhead lights flickered on one by one, and a massive screen lit up at the front with the U.A. logo.
"For all you examinee listeners tuning in, welcome to my show today!" a booming voice announced through the speakers. The sudden volume made (Y/N) flinch before he forced himself to relax.
His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the hero on stage. Present Mic, someone who'd worked alongside his adopted mother and Eraserhead back in the day.
"Everyday say 'hey'!" He exclaimed, trying to hear the students clearly.
SILENCE!
(Y/N) stayed quiet.
"What a classy response. Alright! Let's get right into the breakdown of the practical exam! You ready?!"
"YEAH!!" he cheered, trying to hype up the crowd.
Still silence.
'You're embarrassing yourself..." (Y/N) fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. Even with his usually flat emotions, he could feel second-hand embarrassment creeping up on him.
"As it's outlined in the application requirements, you'll be conducting a ten-minute mock urban battle right after this presentation," Present Mic continued. The large screen behind him flickered to life, displaying a detailed map with seven distinct sites, each labeled as a separate battle center.
"Once this briefing is over, head straight to the battle center listed on your form!"
(Y/N) leaned forward, scanning the desk in front of him. A sheet of paper lay neatly placed, and he picked it up, examining it closely.
"Exam ticket," he read silently, noting the test location printed clearly: Battle Center B. His eyes wandered toward a seatmate's paper, and he raised an eyebrow. "No teaming up allowed, huh?" he mused quietly.
The screen shifted again, this time revealing three distinct images of robots, each with a unique design and apparent difficulty level.
Present Mic raised a finger, gesturing emphatically toward the crowd. "Three different types of faux villains are stationed in each battle center. Points are awarded for each based on how challenging they are to defeat."
He paused for effect, sweeping his gaze across the students. "Your goal, listeners, is to use your Quirks strategically to earn points by neutralizing these faux villains. Remember, attacking fellow examinees or engaging in any unheroic actions is strictly prohibited!"
Just as the instructions sank in, someone near the front stood up, raising a hand. (Y/N) turned his head slightly, noticing a student with glasses waiting politely to speak.
"May I ask a question?" the student called out.
"Of course!" Present Mic replied, gesturing for the student to continue, his usual energetic tone softened into something more attentive.
"On the printout, there are four types of villains. If that's a misprint, then U.A., the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of such a careless error," the student with glasses said, his tone sharp and precise.
(Y/N) glanced down at his own sheet, noting the discrepancy. Sure enough, while the large TV behind Present Mic had shown only three villains, his printout clearly listed four. A flicker of curiosity crossed his mind.
So... are they hiding it? Making it seem like some kind of secret boss... or just an extra obstacle for us to avoid?
(Y/N) mulled over the possibilities, analyzing the strategy silently as the student continued to voice his concern. He paid careful attention, though not outwardly reacting, keeping his thoughts organized and deliberate.
Present Mic finally addressed the situation, his voice carrying the same energy but tinged with amusement. "Okay, okay, Examinee Number 7111. Thanks for the message." He leaned closer to the microphone, his signature grin returning.
"The fourth type of villain," he explained, "is worth zero points. Think of it as... an obstacle, rather than a target. Each battle center has one, and this guy gets extremely unpredictable in tight spaces. It's not impossible to defeat, but, honestly, there's no point in wasting your energy on it. Focus on the ones that actually earn you points."
(Y/N) thought to himself, mentally cataloging this new information.
It made sense: the first three were the point-scoring targets, and the fourth was designed to test situational awareness and restraint, not combat skill. He studied the diagrams on the screen again, comparing them with his own printout, already calculating how best to approach Battle Center B.
"I recommend you listeners try to avoid it." The guy gave Present Mic a bow, "Thank you very much! Pardon for the interruption." He eventually took a seat.
(I'll just cut the remaining part, considering it's not important.)
___
(Y/N)'s P.O.V
After all the announcements and explanations, I was finally directed to my assigned testing site: Battle Center B.
I moved alongside the other examinees, noting the subtle differences among them. Some were outfitted with specialized equipment, harnesses, or gear suited for combat simulations, while others carried nothing at all. So, equipment gives an edge in exams like this... interesting, I thought, shrugging lightly and deciding not to dwell on it.
I took a moment to observe my surroundings. The battle center was vast, with metallic walls and a faint echo of distant machinery.
Among the crowd, one figure drew my attention, a short green, curly-haired boy with freckles. Even from a distance, his posture and jittery movements betrayed his nervousness. He shifted from foot to foot, fingers twitching, eyes darting toward the gate as if expecting something catastrophic.
I studied him for a brief moment, then forced myself to stop. There was no time for distraction. My focus shifted to the massive gate looming ahead, its reinforced metal surface slowly beginning to gleam under the bright lights above. A hum of anticipation passed through the examinees, the tension palpable.
Suddenly, Present Mic's voice blared across the field. "Okay, start!"
The gates swung open with a heavy metallic clang. Instantly, I moved. No hesitation. No glance back. I sprinted forward, adrenaline surging, ignoring the murmurs and movements of the other examinees around me.
"Hey?! That's not fair! Not without a countdown!" one of them shouted, scrambling to catch up.
"Yeah! A countdown at least!" another yelled, panic creeping into his voice.
"Life is not fair, kid! There are no countdowns in real fights! Run! Run! The die has been cast!" Present Mic's voice roared over the speakers, laughter and excitement lacing his words.
In my path, a three-pointer robot suddenly appeared, its glowing red sensors locking onto me as if it had anticipated my every move. My grey eyes began to shift, a light-blue hue spreading across the pupils, a sign that my Quirk had activated.
I raised my hands, palms outward, and from them, darkness began to twist and coil like living smoke. The darkness thickened and swirled, forming jagged tendrils that writhed toward the robot.
Without hesitation, I crossed my arms in front of me, creating an X-shaped slash of concentrated shadow that cut through the robot's outer plating with a metallic screech, sparks flying in all directions. The fragments of metal clattered against the floor, echoing through the vast chamber.
I spun on my heel, scanning the arena. The other examinees had now fully used their own Quirks.
One had sent a volley of fireballs toward a cluster of moving targets, while another levitated, hurling debris at a robot attempting to duck beneath their attacks. Energy and chaos filled the battlefield as each student sought to claim points, their movements a mix of precision and panic.
I focused back on the remaining robots, darkness oozing from my body as if responding to my intent. A broadsword began to materialize, light-blue, almost translucent but brimming with an ominous power. The blade vibrated with a subtle hum, resonating with the energy of my Quirk.
Infusing it with EST, I was careful enough to maintain a balance between destructive force, depleting my reserves, and control.
"Six minutes and two seconds left!" Present Mic yelled.
When I swung, the blade met a three-pointer head-on, slicing through the robot's reinforced armor as though it were paper. Sparks and pieces of circuitry scattered into the air.
I was lost in a trance, cutting every single two or three-pointers in my way as if it was natural for me.
All those years of training with Midnight and self-training since I got my Quirk was worth it.
I thought to myself with a huge, twisted grin on my face.
___
Third Person's P.O.V
Meanwhile, in the faculty room, the teachers' eyes were glued to the large monitors displaying the ongoing practical exam. Every movement, every strike, and every Quirk activation of the examinees was under intense scrutiny.
"In this practical exam, the examinees were not informed of the number of villains or their locations." Nezu said.
"They have a limited amount of time in a vast area. They have to draw out villains out from there." Nezu explained
"Information gathering ability to understand the situation before anyone else. Mobility that can be used in many different circumstances. Discernment to be able to stay calm in any situation. And pure combat ability."
"These basic abilities needed to keep the peace in the streets are turned into points. Doesn't this year's group look promising, right?"
"Yeah, particularly Young Kayama. He is already at the top, and his lead over everyone else is massive," Toshinori Yagi, All Might, remarked, his eyes narrowed on the rising numbers of points.
He let the display of Kayama's performance linger in his mind, but his attention was divided, more concerned with Izuku Midoriya struggling at the bottom of the rankings than the one dominating the arena.
Snipe leaned closer to the screen, eyebrows raised. "Wow, Midnight... isn't that your adopted son? What the hell have you been teaching him?" His voice carried both curiosity and a hint of disbelief as he pointed at the monitor.
Midnight remained composed, though a flicker of concern crossed her face.
"I taught him little, his strength comes from his own determination. Since the accident in Chiba Prefecture, he's trained himself quietly. When I guided him, it was only to help him focus." She paused, distant.
"I suspect his drive stems from his parents' passing, a mark that fuels every action and fight, shaping his strength."
One of the faculty members eventually pressed the 0P button.
____
(Y/N)'s POV
I cut down another three-pointer, sparks skittering across the pavement as the robot collapsed behind me. My breathing stayed calm. Years of training had carved that reaction into me. Noise didn't shake me. Panic didn't touch me. I let go of my blade, letting it dissipate in the air.
Then the earth shuddered beneath my feet.
At first it was faint, a soft vibration running through the concrete... then it roared upward, violent enough to crack the already broken street. A thick surge of smoke burst forward, rolling over the examinees like a living wave. I narrowed my eyes, trying to make out the shape behind the haze, and then I saw it.
A shadow. Huge. Moving.
The Zero Pointer stepped into view with a metallic screech, its colossal arm slamming into the side of a building to steady its weight. The structure didn't stand a chance. The top floors caved under its grip, concrete exploding outward. Chunks of debris crashed down like meteorites, smashing into the road and sending dirt and dust flying into my face.
Screams erupted instantly.
Everyone around me bolted, tripping over rubble and each other just to get away from that mechanical monster. Even the ones who'd been confident earlier abandoned their targets without a second thought.
"Less than two minutes left!" Present Mic shouted from above, his voice booming across the arena.
Two minutes. I could end the Zero Pointer in ten seconds if I wanted to. A clean hit, full output, and I could tear that thing apart.
But it wouldn't give me anything. No points. No advantage. Just wasted time.
I clenched my fists, forcing the instinct down.
Tch... pointless.
I turned away, slipping into a sprint in the opposite direction as the ground quaked from the Zero Pointer's next step. My boots skidded over broken concrete, the smoke thinning just enough for me to see the panicked crowd rushing ahead.
No point picking a fight that didn't reward anyone.
WHOOSH!
A sudden rush of wind and a sharp burst of sound made me snap around. My eyes widened as I caught sight of that same green curly-haired kid from before, shooting upward into the air. He drove his fist straight into the Zero Pointer's head, shattering it in one clean blow as the massive robot began to erupt in slow, cascading explosions.
"That bastard!" I muttered to myself, grinning.