POV: Izuku Midoriya
The U.A. gates loomed in front of him.
His fingers twitched with a restless hum of arcane energy beneath his gloves, faintly glowing glyphs stitched beneath the seams pulsing with warmth. Even with the runes etched into the soles of his shoes to keep his steps grounded, Izuku felt like he might float away — from nerves, pressure, anticipation.
This was it.
He wasn't a mystery anymore — not to himself, his parents, or the handful of civilians whispering about "them" in Mustafu's quiet nights. They didn't know his name, but they knew the vigilante mage in the shadows. Here, though, no one knew. No one would.
And that strangely made him feel free.
The Written Exam
It ended quickly.
He flew through the questions. Years of late-night study sessions with Momo paying off. Physics, tactics, critical thinking — no surprises.
He noticed a few glances. Not recognition, just curiosity as he muttered calculations and spell theories aloud.
He didn't mind. He was here to be a hero.
The Practical Arena – "Battle City"
President Mic's voice boomed through the facility's loudspeakers.
"YO! Future heroes! This is your shot! Take out as many robots as you can — and remember: GO BEYOND!"
The gates slammed open.
Adrenaline. Runes lit beneath his boots.
And Izuku was gone — dashing into the arena with wind-laced feet, sigils of speed and impact dampening shimmering faintly under his sleeves. Around him, the ground cracked beneath other examinees' quirks: laser blasts, kinetic charges, elemental strikes.
But Izuku didn't draw attention.
He didn't need to.
POV: Observer (Aizawa)
From the control tower, Eraserhead leaned forward.
"That one… green hair, lean frame. He hasn't used a physical quirk yet."
Nezu's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
"He's not in the recommendation files," the principal noted. "And his entrance forms say 'unclassified ability source.' Not unusual… but not common."
A beat passed.
"Let's keep watching."
Back in the Arena
Izuku spun through a field of One-Pointers.
With practiced ease, he etched a circle mid-air with a flame-bound finger — runes flaring into a sigil of compression and ignition. A burst of fire rocketed from the mark, knocking a trio of robots into sparking heaps.
He pressed his back against a wall and whispered a short prayer under his breath. The chaos within him pulsed like a second heartbeat.
The rune work on his gloves glowed — a reflexive shield glyph sparking to life just as a Two-Pointer lunged. The robot's strike rebounded off an invisible barrier, and Izuku countered with a blast of condensed lightning, the sigils on his left palm sparking blue-white.
His mind was calm.
The battlefield had become something else.
A puzzle. A rhythm. A proving ground.
He was built for this.
Moments Between Combat
He crouched under an overhang, drawing a circle in the dirt beside a ruined vending machine.
This spell wasn't destructive — it was sensing-based. A tracing rune that mapped movement across a thirty-meter radius. His eyes glowed softly green, arcane threads flickering through the air like sonar pings.
Two students were nearby, pinned.
Without hesitation, he took off.
Saving the Stranded
A girl and a boy — both struggling to fight off a pair of Two-Pointers.
Izuku didn't shout. He didn't warn them.
He just moved.
He traced a sharp rune in mid-air: Wind Slice.
A compressed arc of air split the machines from the side, carving clean through. He turned and cast a fire spell in reverse — the flashbang variant Momo helped him test.
Light and heat burst behind them, giving the students time to scramble away.
"You okay?" Izuku asked quickly.
They nodded, stunned.
"Stay near the center tower. I laid down detection runes. It's safe there."
They didn't question how he knew any of that.
He ran again.
The Zero Pointer
Then the ground shook.
The Zero Pointer barreled in with seismic force, a mountain of destruction made metal. Screams echoed. The arena scattered.
Izuku froze.
For just a second, the chaos inside him screamed for release.
But then he saw her — a girl with a broken ankle, crawling under a support beam. Debris above her cracked. Time slowed.
He moved.
"Please," he whispered mid-run. "Let this work."
The fire gathered first, raw and surging — but he laced it with chaos.
No runes. Just intent.
He summoned a storm of radiant flame, compressing it with will alone.
The resulting explosion rocked the Zero Pointer's core, tearing through the neck joint. The giant collapsed — sparks flying, its head spinning off into a side wall.
Gasps filled the arena.
But the debris — too much was falling. Crumbling steel and concrete plummeted toward the trapped girl and several nearby students.
Izuku closed his eyes.
And for the first time, he spoke the spell aloud.
"By the name of the Seraphim, shield those beneath Heaven's fall!"
The glyph burst from his hands like a sun.
Golden light erupted in a dome of celestial script, runes of protection overlapping like angelic wings. The debris struck — and melted into sparks on contact. A hush fell.
And then — something new.
Soft light shimmered outward from the shield. Wounds began to close. Bruises faded. Scrapes healed. The girl beneath gasped as her twisted ankle straightened — not fully, but enough.
Izuku fell to one knee.
Breathless.
Dizzy.
What… was that? he thought.
POV: Nezu (Overwatch Tower)
Principal Nezu leaned in.
"That shield," he murmured.
Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "What is that?"
"Not exactly sure," Nezu said.
His claws tapped thoughtfully on the console.
"That one bears watching."
The Exam Ends
"TIME!"
President Mic's voice rang out, jolting everyone from their stunned daze.
Izuku stood slowly. His legs trembled, but his magic was already stitching some of the exhaustion away. He saw the others staring at him — but not with fear.
Not suspicion.
Just awe.
Still… none of them knew who he was.
And that was fine.
Later That Night
The moon hung low over Mustafu.
Izuku sat alone on the rooftop above his apartment, spellbook open on his lap. The wind was gentle, brushing against the binding runes on his coat.
He traced the sigil for the Shield of the Seraphim into the air again. This time, it flickered — no healing, just light. He hadn't even known that spell existed inside him.
Was that chaos magic… evolving? Or something else?
His fingers drifted to his notebook, half-scribbled with pages titled:
"Quirkless?" — No.
"Mutant?" — Not exactly.
"Witchblood + Unknown Elemental Affinity = ?"
He paused.
Then flipped the page.
Wrote:
"Hero?"
And slowly, circled it.
Behind him, a soft knock echoed on the roof hatch.
Momo peeked her head out, ponytail tied up and eyes glowing faintly with fatigue and pride.
"You did it," she said.
"You too," he replied.
They sat together in silence.
And far below, the streets of Mustafu glowed with soft, warded light. Peaceful. Calmer.
Because they were here.