Chapter 9: The Quirkless Comet and the Exploding Star
The moment the siren blared, the world dissolved into chaos. For a hesitant second, the crowd of examinees stood frozen, a collective intake of breath hanging in the air as the colossal gates groaned open. They stared into the silent, waiting city, a concrete jungle of simulated peril.
That second was all it took for the difference between the contenders and the pretenders to become terrifyingly clear.
With a guttural roar, the ash-blond boy, Bakugo, erupted from the starting line. He didn't run. He flew. Blasts of brilliant orange light detonated in his palms, propelling him forward like a human missile. "DIE!" he screamed, not at anyone in particular, but at the entire world, at the very concept of the test itself. He shot past the stunned crowd and into the city, a trail of smoke and ambition in his wake.
Almost simultaneously, Rock Lee moved. There was no sound, no explosion, only a sudden, blurring compression of his form. He dropped into a low, powerful sprinter's stance and launched himself forward. His legs, freed from years of unimaginable weight, churned with a speed that seemed to defy physics. He wasn't flying, but he was barely touching the ground, a silent green comet streaking past the still-gaping examinees.
The rest of the students finally shook off their stupor and scrambled after them, but they were already hopelessly behind. The race had begun, and there were only two runners.
From a darkened observation room high above the city, multiple screens displayed feeds from every corner of the battle center. A group of Pro Heroes and U.A. staff watched with keen eyes.
"Well, they're certainly eager," said a small, mouse-like creature in a suit, the principal of U.A., Nezu.
A tired-looking man with long black hair and a capture weapon wrapped around his neck, Shota Aizawa, grunted. "Two of them. The explosive one is obvious. Raw power and aggression. But the other one…" His eyes narrowed on the screen tracking Lee. "His physical scores on the preliminary tests were off the charts, but he registered as Quirkless. A data error, perhaps?"
Lee burst around a corner and came face-to-face with his first opponent. A One-Point robot, a squat, green machine on tank treads, swiveled its single red optic towards him. Before it could even process his presence, Lee leaped. He spun in the air, his leg a whip of green fabric and hardened muscle, and delivered a single, perfect axe kick to the robot's head. The metal casing crumpled like tin foil, the optic shattered, and the machine slumped to the ground, deactivated. One point. No wasted motion.
A few streets over, an explosion rocked the city. Bakugo had encountered a group of three One-Pointers. He didn't bother with precision. He simply flew into their midst, his hands flashing. "USELESS PEBBLES!" he shrieked, and a massive explosion engulfed all three machines, blowing them into smoking, twisted scrap. Three points. All power.
Back in the observation room, the teachers murmured in appreciation. "That Bakugo kid's Quirk is incredibly powerful and versatile," commented the heroine Midnight.
"But inefficient," Aizawa countered, pointing at Lee's screen. "Look. The other one, Lee, has already taken down four more single-point bots in the time it took Bakugo to deal with three. His movements are logical, targeted. He's treating this like a hunt, not a tantrum."
On the ground, Lee could feel the rhythmic tremors of Bakugo's explosions. Each blast was a challenge, a reminder that he was not alone at the top of this food chain. The thought spurred him on. He saw a Two-Pointer, a larger, more humanoid machine, lumbering down an alley. He ran straight at it. The robot raised its metallic arms to swat him away, but Lee was too fast. He slid underneath its clumsy attack, his hand bracing on the pavement, and swung his legs up in a powerful sweep, kicking the robot's legs out from under it. As the machine crashed to the ground, Lee was already on top of it, delivering a series of rapid-fire kicks to the exposed joint in its neck until it sparked and died. Two more points.
The other examinees were living in a different reality. They fought nervously, struggling to take down a single robot, celebrating each hard-won point. But every so often, they would see a green blur flash past, leaving a deactivated robot in its wake, or they would be forced to dive for cover as a massive explosion erupted a block away. They quickly learned to stay out of the way of the two monsters who were devouring the arena.
The rivalry, which had started as a simple race for points, began to bleed into something more direct. Bakugo, enraged that someone was keeping pace with his overwhelming power, started to grow more aggressive. He spotted Lee dashing towards a valuable Three-Pointer, a towering, heavily armored machine that was the crown jewel of the regular bots.
"DON'T YOU DARE!" Bakugo roared, blasting himself into the air. He didn't attack the robot. He attacked the Two-Pointer standing next to the robot. He unleashed a concentrated blast, an AP Shot, that blew the smaller machine to smithereens.
Lee, seeing the incoming explosion, didn't flinch. The timing was malicious. Bakugo had detonated the robot so the shrapnel—large, jagged pieces of sharp metal—would fly directly at him. It was an indirect attack, a thinly veiled attempt to injure a competitor.
But Lee's reactions were now faster than thought. Instead of dodging, he spun. His leg flashed out in a series of powerful, precise kicks. Each kick connected with a piece of flying shrapnel, not just deflecting it, but sending it flying back towards its source.
Bakugo's eyes widened in shock as he saw his own collateral damage turned into a counter-attack. "Tch!" he snarled, releasing smaller, controlled explosions from his palms to blast the metal shards out of the air before they could hit him. He landed on a rooftop, glaring down at Lee. How? he thought, his mind racing. His legs… it was like kicking cannonballs. What the hell is his Quirk?! I haven't seen him use it once! Is he mocking me?!
Lee ignored him, his focus entirely on the Three-Pointer. He ran towards it, the machine's heavy laser cannons charging up. He leaped from car to car, closing the distance, then ran straight up the side of a building, defying gravity for a few precious seconds before kicking off, launching himself directly at the robot's head. He landed on its shoulder, his grip firm, and delivered a devastating side-kick to the primary optic sensor. The machine shuddered, its targeting system failing. He then dropped down, landing gracefully, and began a relentless assault on its ankle joints, just as Sora had taught him. Find the foundation. Break it.
With a final, powerful kick, the robot's ankle buckled. The towering machine crashed to the ground with a deafening groan of tortured metal. Three more points.
Just as he deactivated it, the ground began to tremble violently. A shadow fell over the entire city block. From behind the buildings, a mechanical titan rose up, its head scraping the tops of the ten-story structures. The Zero-Pointer. It was a goliath of chrome and steel, its presence an overwhelming wave of pure intimidation.
The other students screamed and ran, their faces pale with terror. Bakugo, from his rooftop perch, looked at the colossal machine, let out a single, furious blast at its leg that did nothing but scorch the paint, and then turned away with a grunt of disgust. A waste of time and energy.
Lee looked up at the titan. He assessed its size, its potential threat, and its point value. Zero. His mind, honed by Sora's pragmatic training, came to an instant conclusion. It was an obstacle. He turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, hunting for the smaller, more valuable prey that the other students had abandoned in their panic.
The final minutes of the exam were a frantic, two-man cleanup operation. The siren blared again, the sound signaling the end.
Silence descended upon the city, broken only by the hiss of steam from broken machines. Lee stood in the middle of a street, surrounded by his handiwork, his chest heaving as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
He saw Bakugo a few dozen meters away, breathing heavily, his face a mask of fury and confusion. Their eyes met across the field of battle. Bakugo's crimson glare was filled with a thousand questions, but his pride wouldn't let him ask a single one. He felt like he had been in a race with a ghost, someone who matched his power without showing any power at all.
"Tch," the sound was one of pure disgust. He turned and stomped away, leaving the arena.
Lee watched him go, then looked down at his own trembling hands. The adrenaline was starting to fade, replaced by a deep exhaustion. He began to count the points in his head. It was a high number, but he knew Bakugo's was high as well.
"Perhaps," he murmured to himself, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet street. "Perhaps I should have opened one of the advanced Gates. It might have given me a higher score." The thought wasn't one of regret, but of ambition. He knew, even now, he had been holding back.
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.
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