The silence after the 1-point robot's destruction was more deafening than the explosion itself. For a moment, the world narrowed to a clash of sensations: the sharp pain of the armor tearing through my skin and the intoxicating wave of raw power coursing through my veins. I stared at my hands, encased in jet-black gauntlets, with thin wisps of steam rising from their serrated knuckles. The armor felt like a part of me—an extension of my bones and muscle, pulsating with the same energy as my own heartbeat. Around me, a few other examinees who had witnessed the blast stood frozen, their mouths agape in shock. I had no time for them. Ten minutes. That was all the time I had to prove my worth.
Ignoring the throbbing pain, I forced my legs to move. I dashed into the next street, my heightened senses picking up the vibrations of nearby robotic movement. Two 2-point robots emerged from an alley, their weapons spinning as they took aim. In the past, I would have strategized, searched for weaknesses, and attacked tactically. Now, instinct took over. The dragon within me had no interest in tactics; it craved only destruction. I lunged forward, the armor on my legs allowing me to cover the distance in an instant. The first robot fired a volley of rubber bullets, which simply bounced off my chest plate with insignificant pings. I didn't even slow down. I slammed my shoulder into the robot, crushing it into a twisted heap of metal, then spun and launched a powerful sidekick at the second one. My jagged shin guard tore through its chassis like paper, and it exploded in a shower of sparks.
Twenty seconds. Three robots down. A total of five points. It was too slow. I began to sprint through the streets of the artificial city, becoming an efficient and brutal vortex of destruction. My fighting style possessed no grace or technique; it was a blend of calculated violence and overwhelming power. I was a fast learner. The armor seemed to respond to my intent, hardening a moment before impact, the claws on my gauntlets feeling sharper as I tore through hydraulic cables. I obliterated 1-point robots with a single punch, demolished 2-pointers with a kick, and dodged the attacks of larger 3-point robots before leaping onto their backs and ripping out their power sources with my bare hands. Within the first few minutes, I had amassed over thirty points, leaving a trail of mechanical carcasses in my wake. The pain from the armor had subsided into a constant, dull throb—a reminder of this newfound power I wielded. But I knew I couldn't keep this up. I could feel my stamina draining rapidly, not just from the physical exertion, but from my body's effort to sustain this unstable manifestation.
In a darkened observation room, countless monitors displayed every angle of the battle centers. The teachers of U.A., the pro heroes, sat in relative silence, analyzing the prospective students. "Whoa! Check out that kid in Battle Center B!" Present Mic's voice broke the quiet, pointing to a screen displaying Tatsumi's rampage. "He's tearing through those bots like they're tinfoil! What an incredible strengthening Quirk!"
Shota Aizawa, bundled in his scarf, narrowed his tired eyes. He replayed the footage of Tatsumi's initial manifestation. "This is no ordinary strengthening Quirk," he muttered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear. "The armor emerged from his body. It's a transformation Quirk, or perhaps a material emission. Look closely. The form is inconsistent, asymmetrical. It looks raw, unfinished." He paused, his gaze fixed on the momentary flash of pain on Tatsumi's face after each powerful strike. "He's fighting through the pain. This isn't a Quirk he's had for long. This might be its first manifestation. To wield that much power on a Quirk's debut… that's not normal."
In his chair, Principal Nezu sipped his tea, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips. "Or perhaps, Aizawa-kun," he said cheerfully, "he's just remarkably resilient. Such raw power, combined with the composure he showed before the gates opened… A very, very interesting candidate." On another screen, Nezu observed a green-haired boy running in a panic, having yet to score a single point. "This year is full of unusual potential," he added to himself.
Inside Battle Center B, Izuku Midoriya felt desperation begin to creep in. All the robots seemed to be defeated before he could even get close. He heard another explosion down the street and cautiously peeked around a corner. He saw him—the same black-haired boy who had bolted the instant the exam began. He was clad in a gruesome and incomplete-looking black armor, as if it were forged from the very bones of a monster. With brutal efficiency, the boy annihilated a 3-point robot. Midoriya's analytical mind immediately went to work, overriding his own fear.
'Incredible! The armor doesn't seem to be mere plating, but fused with the user. His physical strength is immense, enough to crush alloy steel with ease. But look at his movements—there's no wasted energy. Every step is calculated. The Quirk seems to grant both power and defense, but what are its drawbacks? A time limit? Does it drain stamina? The armor doesn't cover his entire body, leaving gaps at the joints, the neck, and the waist. Are those weak points? He… he fights like a seasoned professional, not a kid in his first exam.' Midoriya unconsciously scribbled his observations in the air with his finger, a habit he couldn't stop, even as he felt himself falling further and further behind.
After destroying another 3-point robot, I paused to catch my breath. Forty-five points. That should be more than enough to pass, maybe even enough to make the top ten. Continuing this rampage would only exhaust me before the exam was over. My more rational mind, the mind from my old life, took over from my dragon's battle instincts. I remembered a crucial piece of knowledge. This wasn't just a test of destructive power. It was a test to become a hero. And true heroes don't just defeat villains; they save people. Rescue Points.
I changed my tactics drastically. Instead of seeking out robots to destroy, I began moving between the streets, sharpening my hearing for any sound other than grinding metal. It didn't take long. "Help! My leg is pinned!" I followed the voice to a small alley where an examinee—a girl with a rabbit-ear Quirk—was trapped under a large concrete slab, likely collateral damage from one of my earlier rampages. A pang of guilt struck me for a moment.
"Don't move," I said, my voice slightly raspy from the adrenaline. I knelt, placing my armored hands under the slab. I didn't lift it with brute force. I felt out its weight, then carefully and slowly raised it, just enough for her to pull her leg free. She stared at me with wide eyes, a mix of gratitude and fear at my intimidating appearance. "Thank you!" she whispered. I simply nodded, then vanished back into the main street.
I continued my patrol, becoming a guardian instead of a destroyer. I saw a boy with a jet engine Quirk on his back lose control and careen towards a wall. I zipped in front of him, using my armored back as a cushion to absorb the impact. I pushed a girl out of the path of a sniper bot she hadn't seen. Each action was calculated, efficient, and wordless. I wasn't looking for thanks. I was just doing what a hero was supposed to do.
In the observation room, a hush fell over the teachers. "He… he's stopped attacking," Present Mic said, confusion clear in his voice.
Aizawa leaned forward, his eyes now wide open, no longer looking tired. "No. He hasn't stopped. He's changed his mission." He pointed to a different screen showing Tatsumi rescuing the rabbit-eared girl. "He gathered enough destruction points to pass, and now he's gathering a different kind of point. The more important kind."
Nezu let out a small chuckle, the kind that raised the hair on one's arms. "The power of a monster, but the mind of a savior. I've made my decision. If he passes, I want him in your class, Aizawa. I want to see what you can mold from such interesting clay."
Suddenly, the ground beneath me began to tremble violently. A deep, low rumble grew into a localized earthquake. From behind the tall buildings at the end of the district, a colossal shadow emerged. The Zero-Point Robot. It was absurdly massive, a walking skyscraper with a single, giant red eye. It was an obstacle, not an opponent. My first instinct screamed at me to run. I could feel the armor on my body pulse in protest. I was nearing my limit, and fighting that monstrosity was suicide.
As I turned to retreat, I heard a small cry. My eyes quickly scanned the area and landed on a familiar sight. A girl with short brown hair—Ochaco Uraraka—was on the ground, her leg pinned under a piece of rubble. She was directly in the path of the advancing Zero-Pointer. And I knew, I knew exactly who was about to save her. I looked toward the fleeing crowd and saw Midoriya, standing frozen, trembling violently as he stared at Uraraka and the monster.
This was his moment. The moment he proved he was worthy of One For All. I mustn't interfere in a canonical event this important. 'Come on, Midoriya,' I thought, a silent encouragement. 'This is your stage. Show them all what a true hero is.'
As if hearing my thoughts, Midoriya shot forward. But as he ran, I saw something else. The Zero-Pointer's massive arm swung wildly as it moved, and a wrecked car was knocked from its path, sent hurtling straight towards another terrified, frozen examinee not far from me. Midoriya was focused on Uraraka. No one was going to save that other kid.
Damn it. I couldn't just watch.
In a split second, I made my decision. I wouldn't steal Midoriya's moment, but I wouldn't let anyone die. I shot towards the frozen student. "Get out of the way!" I yelled, shoving him hard. He tumbled to the ground as I placed myself between him and the flying car. I crossed my arms before my face, the armor all over my body hardening in response to the incoming threat.
The impact was immense. Twisted metal slammed into me with incredible force, driving me back several meters. Pain exploded throughout my body, and I felt cracks form across my chest plate. But I held my ground. As I lowered my arms, I looked up just in time to witness the legendary sight.
"SMAAASH!"
Midoriya, soaring through the air, slammed his One For All-powered fist into the Zero-Pointer's head. The metal imploded, and the giant robot's head disintegrated in a deafening explosion. For a moment, everyone could only stare as the mechanical beast began to tilt, dead. I saw Midoriya falling from the sky, his arms and legs broken and dangling uselessly.
BUZZ!
A loud bell rang throughout the artificial city. "THE EXAM IS OVER!"
As the adrenaline began to fade, excruciating pain hit me with its full force. Every part of me felt like it was on fire from the inside out. I saw Uraraka slap Midoriya's cheek, activating her Quirk to make him float for a moment just before he hit the ground. An act of kindness that would save his life. I managed a small smile.
Then, I felt the tearing sensation again. The armor began to recede, pulling back into my skin. The process was just as painful as its emergence. I gritted my teeth, stifling a scream, and collapsed to my knees as the last of the black armor vanished. I was left in my tattered gym uniform, gasping for air, shaking from exhaustion and pain. I looked at my now-normal hands, trembling uncontrollably. I had done it. I had taken my first step. And it felt like I had just returned from hell.