At this point, what could someone do if they wanted to use a Quirk but didn't have official certification—and didn't want to break the law?
The solution came in the form of alternative permits. These were special permissions for venues, similar to U.A. High School, where students were allowed to use their Quirks freely. Quirk arenas operated the same way: participants applied for a venue Quirk permit through various channels, granting them legal freedom to use their abilities within the arena.
Over time, however, many Quirk arenas became entangled with gambling, bloodsport, and chaos. They evolved into decadent spectacles under tacit government approval—hidden carnivals of competition where the line between legality and indulgence blurred. These arenas were known as Alternative Colosseums, and the atmosphere within was electric, charged with anticipation.
At the center of the arena, the host gripped a microphone and addressed the crowd with fiery enthusiasm.
"Mad Bull has won six matches tonight and claimed the million-yen bonus! Should he challenge the seventh match?"
The audience erupted, their voices carrying a hypnotic rhythm that filled every corner of the venue.
"Seventh match! Seventh match!"
The chant grew uniform, the energy rolling like waves through the crowd.
Mad Bull cracked a grin, raising his fist to the roaring approval of the spectators.
"Alright, Game Seven!"
Suddenly, a security guard dashed onto the stage, whispering something urgently into the host's ear. The host's expression shifted slightly; he exhaled sharply, then addressed the audience again with renewed gravitas.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive me for interrupting your excitement," he said, voice booming over the arena. "But tonight, we have something special. Our arena is home to legends—fabled warriors whose strength rivals that of professional heroes. And one such legend will face Mad Bull in tonight's seventh match."
A ripple of anticipation swept through the spectators.
"Cheer them on!" the host bellowed, raising his arms, igniting the crowd into a frenzy.
The spectators leapt to their feet, scanning the stage for the legendary challenger.
"There are nine legends here, each assigned a number. Who could it be?"
"I hope it's Number One—the man called the Lion. He's never been defeated, and he's handsome as well!"
"Number Six, the one who controls metal… unbelievable power! I want to see him fight!"
"And Number Four—a beautiful catwoman. She's a sight to behold."
From a quiet, luxurious lounge, Yaoyorozu Chihiro frowned slightly, muttering under his breath. Guards clad in black flanked him as he walked slowly along the lane toward the stage.
"Wow… Number Seven, it's Number Seven! Another undefeated legend!"
"The most mysterious one yet—faceless, terrifying, and we don't even know his Quirk!"
"Better Mad Bull faces Number One than Number Seven. The unknown is far scarier."
The moment Chihiro, robed in black, stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted. Whispers turned to shouts, the excitement palpable.
For a few minutes, Chihiro's usual impetuousness calmed. He had always loved fighting—hence why he sneaked out from the cellar to find this very place. That he had inadvertently become Number Seven only added to the thrill.
The stage itself smelled faintly of blood, reminiscent of the ancient Roman Colosseum. The energy of the crowd, the scent of anticipation, the echoes of cheers and cries—it fueled his excitement.
Five fingers became a sword in his hand, the black robe flowing like shadow. Thousands of voices reached his ears, but he filtered them, focusing only on the faint command: "Begin."
He surged forward.
"No. Seven, even if you are a legend, you still have to face me!" Mad Bull bellowed, charging with his massive horns lowered.
Boom!
The impact of their collision shifted the stage beneath them. Chihiro's face remained calm under his hood, but the force was terrifying—clearly Grade B strength, far beyond his own Grade E body. Even brushing against him felt like colliding with a moving train. His body shivered under the impact, energy surging in response.
"Haha… a legend indeed!" Mad Bull's grin widened with mockery, pushing harder.
From a distance, a new security guard muttered under his breath, astonished: "He's being forced back by Mad Bull… can this really be Number Seven?"
"Quiet!" another guard whispered sharply. "Number Seven has never relied on strength alone—watch carefully."
Mad Bull's excitement only grew, the arena shaking with the roar of the audience as the battle between legend and newcomer erupted.