Chapter 6: The Villain's Gambit
After the grueling Quirk Apprehension Test thrown at them by Aizawa-sensei, Class 1-A was finally dismissed to the locker rooms. The tension that had hung heavy over the training grounds didn't fade—it simply moved indoors, blending with the rustle of changing clothes and the creak of locker doors.
In the boys' locker room, the students changed in silence at first, casting sideways glances at the three Midoriya brothers. Eijiro Kirishima, pulling on a t-shirt, was the first to break the ice. He turned toward the corner where Izuku was busy tying his sneakers
"Dude, Midoriya!" Kirishima exclaimed energetically, his eyes flashing with genuine admiration. "The way your brothers completely wrecked that test—it was so incredibly manly! But your throw... Two hundred and fifty meters without a Quirk? That's seriously awesome, man, you gave it everything you had!"
Denki Kaminari, sitting on a bench nearby, immediately jumped into the conversation, gesturing wildly with a sneaker in his hand.
"Yeah, Kirishima's right! That was intense," Kaminari agreed. "But hey, Midoriya, what was up with that flash of light at the very end, right when you threw the ball? For a second, I was so blinded I thought someone on the next field lost control of their Quirk. Or did your sister accidentally let something slip?"
Startled by the sudden wave of attention, Izuku flinched. His face instantly flushed a bright crimson, and his hands flew up in front of him in a defensive wave. Since he genuinely had no idea about the secret assistance from the ancient gods, his bewilderment was completely real.
"Ah! N-no, not at all! Thanks, Kirishima-kun!" Izuku stammered out, a nervous smile plastered on his face. "As for the flash... I don't really know either! I had my eyes closed when I threw it, and then suddenly everything went bright! It... it must have just been a weird reflection from the sun, I guess!"
Grimm, who was smoothly adjusting his shirt collar at that moment, merely offered the boys a calm, polite smile, acting as if he were entirely focused on his clothes. Shade ignored the conversation altogether; he fastened his button, pulled up his hood, and sat back with his arms crossed, giving away absolutely nothing about his part in the ball-throw trick.
On the other side of the locker room, Katsuki Bakugo slammed his locker door shut with a deafening crash. Tiny, angry sparks crackled around his palms, which he clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Hey, Deku..." Bakugo hissed through his teeth, his breathing heavy. His voice vibrated with pure rage, and the glare from his crimson eyes practically pierced right through Izuku. "You seriously think that just because you got lucky and crawled close to my score, you're suddenly a hero? Don't make me laugh, you damn nerd."
Izuku swallowed hard, his fingers tightening into fists, but he didn't look away. A quiet, firm determination now burned in his eyes.
Meanwhile, in the girls' locker room, the girls were also trying to connect with their new classmate. Ochaco Uraraka slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked over to Myla, who was calmly gathering her golden hair.
"Midoriya-san, you did so amazing during the tests!" Uraraka said with a warm, genuine smile. "Hey, by the way... that flash on the field at the very end... was that by any chance your doing?"
Myla slowly turned her head toward the girls. Her gaze remained cold and filled with a natural, regal pride, but she carefully checked her demeanor to ensure she didn't let anything slip in front of these humans.
"No, it was not me," Myla replied in an even, proud, and distant tone, not bothering to offer any detailed excuses. "I closed my eyes when the light suddenly flared. Where it came from, I have no conception."
Mina Ashido froze for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by such a majestic, dry response, but she instantly switched topics to something lighter to ease the atmosphere.
"Oh, well, okay! Must've been a reflection after all," Mina chirped. "Hey, how do you like our school uniforms anyway?"
"They are quite ordinary," Myla answered reservedly, shutting her locker door. "As long as they serve their function, that is what matters."
After that first, somewhat tense day, time at UA High seemed to speed up. The following week passed relatively quietly for the Midoriya quartet, looking much like regular school life. There was plenty of daily routine and standard general education classes—like English with Present Mic or Mathematics—where the gods had to carefully play the part of ordinary teenagers looking bored at their desks. The class slowly grew accustomed to the strange but quiet company of the newcomers, while Bakugo did nothing but glare furiously at them from the front row.
Yet, everyone understood that this silence was merely the calm before the storm. The real hero training would truly begin on Friday, during Hero Basic Training.
And so, the day had finally come. The atmosphere in Class 1-A's classroom had been electric since Friday morning, with everyone eagerly anticipating their first Hero Basic Training class. The updated roster now counted twenty-three students, and the three additional desks at the very back of the room created a peculiar, almost mystical aura.
Eijiro Kirishima was brainstorming something animatedly with Sero; Mina Ashido, wearing a bright smile, turned around to talk with Ochaco Uraraka about the upcoming lesson; and Bakugo sat rigidly, one leg crossed over the other, practically burning a hole through the back of Izuku's head with his glare. The green-haired boy himself tried his best not to look back, focusing entirely on neatly straightening his notebook, though his heart hammered against his ribs in sheer anticipation of the hero class.
Shade, Grimm, and Myla sat in their places like three monolithic statues. They maintained their human disguises flawlessly, blending in perfectly with the rest of the twenty canonical students, but their detachment from the general chatter was instantly noticeable. Grimm lazily propped his chin on his hand, observing the scenery outside the window; Myla sat with the straight, proud posture of royalty; and Shade simply froze within the shadow of his hood, completely motionless.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the classroom didn't just open—they endured a massive, almost theatrical yank.
"I AM COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!" thundered an incredibly loud, deep, and charismatic voice through the hallway and classroom, making the ears of several teenagers in the front rows ring.
The colossal figure of the Symbol of Peace materialized in the doorway. All Might stood in his signature pose, hands on his hips, with a dazzling white smile that seemed capable of lighting up half of Mustafu. He wore his vibrant red, blue, and yellow Silver Age costume, his golden crest fluttering proudly in the sudden rush of air.
The entire class instantly erupted in cheers. Twenty-three voices merged into a single roar of excitement.
"Whoa! It's All Might!" Kirishima jumped up from his seat, clenching his fists emotionally. "Incredible! He's really going to teach us!"
"Look at that costume... That's the Silver Age style! It gives me goosebumps!" Denki Kaminari squealed, fully entering his otaku mode.
"Such a canonical look, ribbit," Tsuyu Asui added softly.
Izuku Midoriya froze, his eyes widening with childlike wonder. For him, seeing All Might this close during a regular class was the ultimate dream come true. He nearly started muttering his usual analytical notes aloud but bit his tongue just in time, remembering where he was.
Meanwhile, All Might walked toward the teacher's podium with a heavy but surprisingly fluid stride, radiating absolute confidence with every single movement. His gaze lingered on Izuku for a split second before smoothly shifting to the trio at the back desks. Even the world's strongest hero felt a faint, barely perceptible chill run down his spine from the calm stare of those three teenagers, but he masterfully hid it behind his signature smile.
"Welcome, young superheroes!" All Might leaned forward, resting his hands on the podium. "It is time for our Hero Basic Training course! In this class, we will study everything that makes a hero a true protector of justice! Basic skills, tactics, rescuing people, and, of course, combat arts! No boring lectures today! We are moving straight to practice!"
He turned sharply, pointing his finger at the wall where special panels suddenly began to slide open.
"And for that purpose... Principal Nezu and the Support Course have prepared what you requested in your registration forms before enrollment! Your personal hero costumes!"
The class buzzed with excitement once more. Metal cases rolled out of the wall one after another. Exactly twenty-three oblong, numbered suitcases lined up in a perfect row. Each student looked at their number with awe.
"Grab your cases, change, and head out to Ground Beta!" All Might commanded. "But... wait just one minute. I have an important announcement from the UA administration."
The classroom fell dead silent. All Might pulled out a small electronic tablet, and his face grew slightly more serious, though his smile never vanished.
"Young Myla, young Grimm, and young Shade," he addressed the back rows. "Since your records and exam results drew special attention from Principal Nezu and the faculty board, a special protocol has been established for your trio for today's exercise. While the rest of the class conducts standard combat training in pairs, a separate, advanced test has been prepared for you. You will complete it individually under the supervision of UA faculty right after them. This is the Principal's decision to precisely evaluate your coordination and power levels."
A wave of whispering swept through the classroom.
"Whoa... A separate test by the teachers for all three of them?" Mineta muttered in surprise. "Are they really that dangerous?"
"Well, you saw what they pulled during Aizawa's test," Shoto Todoroki replied seriously, keeping his eyes fixed on Grimm. "It makes sense that they want to test them separately."
Myla merely raised a single golden eyebrow, taking the announcement with absolute, regal indifference. 'Test us? Well, let them try,' her proud gaze seemed to say. Grimm let out a quiet, theatrical chuckle, adjusting his red tie, while Shade didn't even flinch, remaining an absolute shadow. They had no intention of arguing—if the system of this world demanded a separate performance from them, they would play their parts.
"Now, as for the rest of the class!" All Might boomed, returning to his usual booming tone. "Today's assignment is Indoor Combat Training! Most villain battles take place outdoors, but statistics show that the most brutal and dangerous encounters occur precisely within enclosed spaces—buildings, basements, warehouses! Hostage situations, underground deals... Today, you will divide into teams of Heroes and Villains and clash in a two-on-two battle!"
He produced a large box for the lottery drawing.
"The Villains will hide a nuclear weapon inside the building, and the Heroes must either disarm it by touching it with their hands or capture the villains using special capture tape! Time is limited!"
All Might reached into the box and drew the first two balls with the team letters. His eyes flashed for a second as he read the names.
"And up first, we have... Team 'A' versus Team 'D'! Team 'A'—young Katsuki Bakugo and young Tenya Iida! They will be acting as... THE HEROES!"
Bakugo smiled savagely, the first few sparks crackling around his fingers once again. He snapped his head toward Izuku. His gaze spoke volumes without a single word: 'You're dead, Deku.'
"And their opponents, Team 'D', will be... young Izuku Midoriya and young Ochaco Uraraka!" All Might thundered. "And by the computer's choice, you, young Midoriya and young Uraraka, will be playing the role of... THE VILLAINS in this exam!"
Izuku froze for a moment. His heart skipped a beat. The villain role? Against Bakugo, who wanted nothing more than to crush him in front of the entire academy? The boy took a slow, deep breath, lowering his head for a second. When he looked up, the familiar fear was gone from his eyes. A villain... Well, if the rules required him to be a villain, he would show Kacchan what real tactical calculation looks like, where every single move is figured out in advance.
The students began walking toward the wall to pick up their cases. When the line reached the final numbers, Grimm smoothly approached the case belonging to Shade. The name of the Lord of Shades was engraved on the metal surface of the box.
Grimm leaned slightly toward his silent brother's ear and, with absolute theatrical elegance, whispered barely audibly, nodding toward Myla:
"Well now, my 'pale' friend... I trust your order is complete. Our radiant queen is going to be quite surprised when she sees the aesthetic I helped you choose for this costume. It will suit you perfectly."
Shade only tilted his head slightly to the side. Deep within his dark hood, two white pinpricks of pupils flashed for a second. He silently took his case, ready to step out onto Ground Beta.
Ground Beta welcomed the students with a light, cool breeze that swept between the mock skyscrapers and concrete fences of the simulated city. All Might was already waiting for his class near the main entrance of the training zone, his arms crossed over his chest. As the first students began to emerge from the tunnel, the Symbol of Peace proudly raised his head, ready to burst into compliments.
"They say that clothes make the man, young ladies and gentlemen!" All Might announced thunderously, scanning the teenagers. "And looking at you, I see true heroes! You look absolutely spectacular!"
Class 1-A was indeed an impressive sight of sheer variety: ranging from Iida's knight-like armor to Mina Ashido's bright, acid-colored bodysuit. However, it was the Midoriya quartet, walking out last, that drew the most attention.
Izuku's costume was the epitome of pure, cold pragmatism. There was no bright flashiness, no ear-like shapes on the hood, nor any smiles on the mask like the ones he used to draw in his childhood notebooks. He wore a dark olive, almost black tactical jumpsuit made of heavy-duty reinforced fabric that didn't restrict his movements while protecting him from cuts and minor debris. Lightweight plates of matte carbon fiber sat snugly on his chest and shoulders. The most crucial elements of his gear were the heavy, high-tech gauntlets on his forearms. Built into them were pneumatic units housing the tips of durable tactical capture cables, engineered to withstand immense stress—his primary weapon for binding and neutralizing enemy Quirks. Resting on his right thigh in a heavy, closed holster was a high-capacity, long-range stun gun, intended for use "only in case of extreme necessity." On his feet, he sported massive combat boots with thick soles and special magnetic inserts for superior grip on various surfaces. Izuku looked less like a canonical, brightly-colored teenage hero and more like a professional special-ops operative, fully prepared for any unforeseen circumstances.
Grimm, as befitted the Nightmare King, had turned his costume into a masterpiece of theatrical art. The UA Support Course had followed his elegant sketches to the letter. He wore a luxurious, tailored deep-burgundy doublet with a blood-red lining that fit his slender frame flawlessly. The collar was high and sharp, reminiscent of classic vampire capes, and a refined silver brooch shaped like a bat gleamed on his chest. Instead of standard trousers, he wore formal black pants and patent leather shoes that, strangely enough, made absolutely no sound when he walked. His entire look radiated a sinister yet incredibly captivating aesthetic of a midnight performance.
Myla, despite her human vessel, looked as if she had just stepped off a divine throne. Her costume was crafted from pristine white, heavy fabric adorned with gold embroidery along the sleeves and collar. A lightweight yet majestic golden cape hung from her shoulders, shimmering softly in the sunlight as if emitting its own subtle luminescence. She wore high white gloves on her hands and elegant, light-colored boots on her feet. There was not a single unnecessary detail, no gadgets whatsoever—only the absolute, proud purity of the Goddess of Light, who required no human toys for battle.
As the Lord of Shades stepped forward, Myla suddenly froze, her amber eyes narrowing in sheer astonishment. Shade's attire was simple yet monumental. He wore a long, heavy cloak of a deep, abyssal blue that completely concealed his figure, falling in smooth folds and seemingly absorbing the surrounding shadows. His face and head were entirely hidden by a large, pale-white helmet-mask with two deep eye slits, perfectly replicating the head shape of his older brother—the Hollow Knight. Fastening the edges of the blue cloak across his chest was a heavy silver clasp.
And right there on that clasp, dead center, gleamed a filigree engraving of the Hallownest crest—the ancient winged trident, the symbol of the very kingdom she had once tried to consume with her Radiance.
Myla slowly shifted her cold, burning gaze toward Grimm. The Nightmare King merely covered his eyes with a gloved hand and let out a quiet, amused chuckle, flashing his signature predatory smile. He was clearly deriving immense pleasure from this little silent exchange, thoroughly enjoying how subtly he had pricked the solar goddess by reminding her of the old memory of pale bones. Shade, however, remained completely motionless, and only two white pinpricks of pupils flashed deep within the dark sockets of his bone mask.
"Now then!" All Might clapped his hands, drawing the class's attention back to himself and breaking the silent tension among the gods. "The Villain Team—young Midoriya and young Uraraka, you are given five minutes to head inside the building, hide the nuclear weapon, and prepare your defensive strategy! The Hero Team will enter upon the signal!"
Izuku gave a short nod to Ochaco, who was looking slightly nervous in her pink-and-black suit, and walked with a firm, steady stride toward the entrance of the grim concrete high-rise. Stepping into the dark corridor of the ground floor, the boy calmly lowered a dark tactical visor over his eyes and began clicking through the settings on his left gauntlet. The terrified Deku was left somewhere far behind in the past. Right now, a calculating and dangerous Villain was stepping into this building.
Inside the four-story building, a heavy semi-darkness prevailed. The concrete walls muffled the sounds from the outside, leaving nothing but the echo of footsteps. On the fourth floor, within a spacious hall containing the massive mock nuclear bomb, Ochaco Uraraka shifted nervously from foot to foot. She kept glancing toward the windows, waiting for the signal, but it was her own partner who shocked her the most.
Izuku Midoriya didn't panic, nor did he mutter under his breath. He stood in the center of the room, calmly tightening the straps of his tactical gauntlets. Lowering his dark visor over his eyes, the boy raised his left arm, activating his built-in interface.
"Uraraka-san," his voice sounded strangely calm and level. "Kacchan won't play as a team. He is blinded by rage and will come straight for my head. His first attack will come from the right side—that is his deep-seated habit during an explosive dash. Your job is to stay near the weapon and stay out of it until I give the signal. Guard the perimeter."
The girl only gave a frightened nod, completely awed by his sheer cold-bloodedness. This was not the insecure boy she had met at the school gates.
Suddenly, All Might's booming voice echoed from the loudspeakers throughout the building:
"TRAINING, START! HEROES, GO!"
Not even a minute had passed before a massive explosion rocked the ground floor. The shockwave rattled the entire building. Katsuki Bakugo hadn't given a single thought to a careful breach or consulting with Iida. He burst inside like a living missile, leaving scorched, blackened tracks on the concrete behind him.
"DEKU-U-U!" the blonde's wild, rabid screech reverberated through the stairwells. "Come out, you damn nerd! I know you're hiding somewhere in here!"
On the fourth floor, Izuku didn't even flinch. He slowly turned his head toward the stairwell landing, flipping the safety off his stun gun holster well in advance.
Bakugo flew upward, taking the stairs two at a time. Rage was incinerating him from the inside. 'A villain? That Quirkless piece of trash dared to play a villain against me?!' the thought spun furiously in his head. Bursting onto the third floor, Katsuki expected to see the back of a terrified Deku fleeing deep into the corridor.
Instead, he charged into complete, pitch-black darkness. Izuku had smashed every single light bulb beforehand and blocked the window openings with chunks of construction debris.
"What the..." Bakugo snarled, raising his right hand to illuminate the space with a flash of his Quirk.
That was his first and primary mistake, one that Midoriya had calculated down to the exact second.
The moment the blonde's palm ignited with sparks, a thin, anthracite-black tactical cable shot out from the dark with a quiet, hissing pneumatic sound. The barbed grappling tip looped around Bakugo's right wrist with lethal speed, locking tightly against his skin.
"I told you, Kacchan," Izuku's quiet, cold voice echoed from the depths of the pitch-black corridor. "You always attack from the right side when you're angry. You are far too predictable."
"Why, you bastard!" Bakugo screamed, trying to yank his arm back, but the cable pulled taut as a piano wire.
Planting his magnetic combat boots firmly against the concrete floor, Izuku violently wrenched the gauntlet mechanism backward. Unprepared for such heavy physical resistance, Bakugo lost his balance and pitched forward. In the next heartbeat, Izuku lunged from the shadows. The boy's movements were precise and rapid—the fruits of long months of grueling training under the supervision of his three stern "relatives."
Midoriya spun on his heel, letting the rage-blinded blonde overshoot him, and simultaneously drove a powerful elbow strike right into Bakugo's solar plexus. Bakugo doubled over, gasping for air, but his pride demanded blood. Even as he fell, he tried to swing his left arm back to blast Izuku at point-blank range.
Click.
Izuku drew his heavy, long-range tactical stun gun. Two metallic harpoon contacts embedded themselves squarely into Bakugo's shoulder, and a high-frequency, high-voltage electrical discharge instantly ripped through his body. The teenager spasmed violently, his Quirk temporarily jamming from the convulsions, and he collapsed heavily onto his knees, breathing raggedly and glaring furiously up at Deku.
"This... this isn't your Quirk... You're... you're just using toys!" Bakugo hissed through his teeth, struggling to stand despite the tremors wracking his muscles.
Izuku stood over him, keeping the stun gun aimed dead at his opponent's chest. His dark visor coldly reflected the dying sparks fading on Bakugo's gauntlets.
"These aren't toys, Kacchan. This is tactics," Izuku replied in an even tone, fully embodying the role of a calculating villain. "Heroes often forget that a Quirk is not an absolute power. It can be calculated, restricted, and neutralized. You lost this round before you even set foot in the building."
Meanwhile, a dead silence hung over the monitoring room. The students of Class 1-A stood with their mouths agape in utter shock. Eijiro Kirishima nearly dropped his tactical belt, and Denki Kaminari nervously rubbed his eyes.
"Unbelievable..." Kirishima whispered. "Midoriya just... he just dismantled Bakugo purely through gadgets and a plan? Completely Quirkless?!"
"It's not just gadgets," Shoto Todoroki noted seriously, narrowing his heterochromatic eyes. "He knew every single one of Bakugo's weaknesses. He lured him into the dark where the explosions would blind the attacker himself, and used his own speed against him. That is the pure, cold calculation of a villain."
All Might stood near the main screen, his broad smile turning a fraction strained for the first time that day. The great hero had witnessed countless battles, but the ruthless, surgical precision with which this Quirkless boy had incapacitated one of the course's most promising students stirred a complex mix of respect and slight unease within him.
At the very back of the room, leaning against the wall of the monitoring deck, stood our trio.
Grimm applauded slowly, theatrically, with just his fingertips, a genuine, proud smile playing upon his features.
"What a splendid first act," the Nightmare King purred. "Little Izuku has learned beautifully how to command the stage. No unnecessary theatrics, just the pure art of control."
Myla offered a reserved nod, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze beneath her golden bangs remained majestic, yet approval shone clearly in her eyes. Shade, completely shrouded within his blue cloak and the pale-white bone mask bearing the Hallownest crest, did not make a single sound. However, the shadows pooling around his feet vibrated softly, conveying the Void Lord's silent joy for his younger brother's triumph.
Back in the building, Bakugo—now entirely bound by the specialized capture tape Izuku had swiftly wrapped around his limbs—could only hruff furiously, his face pressed against the concrete. The stun gun had completely drained his momentum, leaving him unable to move for the next few minutes.
Izuku stood up calmly, returned the weapon to his holster, and tapped his communication earpiece. His voice remained cold and focused:
"Uraraka-san, phase one is complete. Bakugo is neutralized on the third floor. Tenya Iida is moving toward you from the western stairs. He is using his engines at full capacity, so he will be at your position in twenty seconds. Proceed with the plan."
"R-Roger, Midoriya-kun!" Ochaco's voice crackled back through the earpiece.
Tenya Iida was flying up the stairwells like a meteor. Hearing the sudden cessation of explosions, he deduced that Bakugo had likely been knocked out of commission due to his own overconfidence. Now, the entire responsibility for the Heroes' mission rested on his shoulders.
"I must salvage the situation! Young Bakugo has failed the team, but I shall fulfill a hero's duty!" Iida shouted, bursting onto the fourth floor and pushing his injectors to the maximum to immediately breach the hall with the bomb.
He expected barricaded doors or traps, but the entrance to the hall was completely wide open. Standing right in the center of the room near the mock nuclear weapon was Ochaco Uraraka.
"Halt, villain!" Iida proclaimed effectively, preparing to make his final dash and touch the bomb.
But this was the exact trap Izuku had prepared in advance, accurately calculating the boy's speed. Stretched across the floor directly in front of the entrance was a thin, nearly invisible monofilament custom tripwire. Moving at immense speed, Iida simply had no time to notice it. His leg caught the wire, and blinded by his own inertia, the Hero went flying head over heels across the concrete floor, completely losing his coordination.
In that exact instant, Izuku lunged from behind a pillar. His movements were lightning-fast. While Iida scrambled to rise and orient himself, Midoriya threw the end of the capture tape around his legs with one precise motion and yanked hard, completely blocking his ability to use his engine Quirk effectively. Ochaco immediately sprinted over from the other side, helping to secure the tape around the boy's arms.
"Forgive us, Iida-kun," Izuku smiled softly, tightening the final knot. "But as villains, we had to anticipate your speed. You acted far too linearly."
Tenya Iida lay frozen, bound hand and foot, blinking in utter astonishment before letting out a heavy sigh:
"Incredible... You completely outmaneuvered us strategically. I concede defeat!"
Throughout the building and the monitoring room, All Might's signature, somewhat stunned voice rang out:
"M-MATCH OVER! THE VILLAIN TEAM... THE TEAM OF YOUNG MIDORIYA AND YOUNG URARAKA WINS! THE VILLAIN LEADERS HAVE COMPLETELY INCAPACITATED THE HEROES!"
When they all emerged outside together, Bakugo had already been freed from the capture tape by professional medical robots. The blonde stood off to the side, his head lowered, his fists trembling so violently that his eyes were hidden beneath his bangs. This was the most devastating defeat of his life—a defeat at the hands of the "Quirkless Deku," who had acted as a cold-blooded and brilliant villain mastermind. Katsuki silently turned and walked toward the main building without uttering a single word.
The subsequent matches of the canonical teams proceeded one after another, and Izuku, returning to the monitoring room, carefully analyzed each one, writing down notes in his clinical journal. The entire class watched with awe during the epic clash between Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji's team against Ojiro and Hagakure. Todoroki didn't waste any time; he simply froze the entire building within seconds, demonstrating the absolute, terrifying power of his Quirk. Grimm merely smiled thinly at this, appreciating the aesthetic of the ice.
Then came the match of Kirishima and Mina's team against Sero and Kaminari, where Denki once again managed to short-circuit his brain with electricity and wandered around with a vacant, goofy grin, drawing a quiet chuckle even from the usually serious Myla. The battles went on, showcasing what the other students were capable of, but the atmosphere in the room remained taut—everyone kept casting sideways glances at the trio of gods waiting for their turn.
Finally, when the last canonical match concluded, All Might stepped up to the microphone, his expression turning entirely solemn. His gaze shifted to Myla, Grimm, and Shade, who still stood as calmly as ever against the wall.
"Well now, young heroes, the main phase is complete!" the Symbol of Peace declared. "And now... we move on to what the academy's administration has been waiting for. Young Midoriyas—Myla, Grimm, Shade. Please proceed to Ground Gamma. Your individual examination begins right now. And you will not be facing your classmates... but rather those who know absolutely everything about combat arts and Quirks. You will be facing the UA faculty."
Grimm took a smooth step forward, his blood-red cloak rippling softly as a predatory grin played upon his lips.
"Well then... Our cue at last. Let us show these fine gentlemen how a true theater operates."
Myla merely tossed her head proudly, while Shade silently adjusted his blue cloak, stepping forward confidently behind his brother. The gods marched toward their exam, absolutely secure in their power, completely unaware of the brutal tactical trap Principal Nezu had orchestrated for them.
Chapter 7: An Ordinary Test
Our trio stood before Ground Gamma, a training ground known among the students as the "Industrial Labyrinth." This site was a dizzying, chaotic web of tall reinforced concrete towers, rusted railway overpasses, massive factory smokestacks, and tangled, multi-tiered warehouses. The sun barely broke through the metal ceilings, leaving long, thick, and intricate shadows on the ground.
Standing near the main gates of the complex, Myla, Grimm, and Shade lined up in one calm row. Unlike previous practical classes of Class 1-A, there was no friendly chatter, discussion of team tactics, or encouraging cheers here. The rest of the class remained in the main building, tensely holding their breath in front of the surveillance monitor screens.
— Listen up, you three, — Aizawa's tired, dry voice echoed through the intercom speakers on the iron gates. — Your exam begins the minute the walls slide apart. Your task is a rescue operation. Deep inside the industrial sectors, Villain leaders are holding hostages. The perimeter is heavily guarded by combat drones from the Support Course, playing the role of lackeys. You are strictly forbidden from helping each other or crossing the boundaries of your zones. Each of you clears your sector independently. Find the lairs, neutralize the threats, and extract the hostages. Time starts now.
With a heavy mechanical hum and screech, the massive steel gates of Ground Gamma parted to the sides, revealing three separate dark concrete tunnels leading into the very heart of the factory chaos.
Grimm bowed elegantly, purely theatrically, to his brother and sister, his deep burgundy cloak fluttering softly in the gust of wind. A sharp, sly smile played on his pale face, and his scarlet eyes flared with sparks of anticipation.
— Well now, my radiant queen, my silent shadow... it seems today the stage demands exclusively solo performances, — Grimm purred, adjusting the collar of his doublet. — Let us see what kind of play these mortals have written for us. I hope their scenery can withstand the first act.
Myla only proudly tossed her golden bangs back, responding with a short, indifferent laugh. In her amber eyes shone the absolute, unshakable confidence of a higher entity:
— A waste of time. No matter what labyrinths they build and what holes they hide in, they cannot hide from my light. They will beg for darkness themselves.
Shade did not make a single sound. Deep within the eye sockets of his white bone mask, two white pinpricks of pupils flashed for a moment. Completely ignoring the chatter, he slowly adjusted the heavy silver fastener of his deep blue cloak, sliding his long fingers over the engraved crest of Hallownest, and turned toward the central passage. His black, thick Void aura subtly brushed against the concrete floor, leaving behind a light trail of cold.
Without the slightest hint of hesitation, the three ancient entities parted in different directions. Each of them confidently stepped into their dark tunnel, setting a course for individual victory. They walked like conquerors, ready to incinerate, burn out, or crush any mechanical toys of the academy in a matter of minutes. They were absolutely confident in their strength, never suspecting that the reinforced concrete walls of Gamma hid a trap that would force them to face the most terrifying ghosts of their past.
The first sector, where Grimm headed, greeted him with a deafening hiss of steam and reinforced concrete debris. Before the Nightmare King could take even a dozen steps, a whole column of heavy tracked robots drove out from around the corner of a three-story warehouse. Their red optical sensors instantly locked onto the target, and their machine gun nests began to turn in his direction.
— Oh, what a crude, unrefined crowd, — Grimm sighed in disappointment, not even slowing his pace.
He smoothly waved his hand, and a barrage of scarlet bats, woven from the pure flame of the Nightmare, erupted from beneath his cloak. With a whistle and a wild screech, they tore through the air, crashing into the front rows of iron. The metal instantly began to melt, turning into liquid mush, and the cabin of the main robot exploded from the wild temperature, shattering into pieces. Grimm moved forward as if in a dance, leaving behind only the burning hulls of machines and beautiful fiery reflections on the soot-stained walls.
Meanwhile, in the third sector, Myla was literally burning her way through. She was too lazy to bypass the labyrinths, so she just walked straight through. When blocking detachments of assault drones rose before her, the Goddess of Light did not even raise her hands. One proud, concentrated look of her amber eyes — and dazzling, razor-sharp beams of pure radiation pierced the reinforced concrete ceilings along with the robots. The machines did not even have time to fire: their circuits burned out in a millisecond, and their chassis settled onto the ground in white, molten puddles.
— Mortal scrap metal, — she spat through her teeth, stepping over the steaming fragments.
And in the darkest, most abandoned corner of the training ground, where sunlight did not penetrate at all through the accumulation of rusted tanks, Shade was advancing. Dozens of high-speed flying drones circled around him, attempting to encircle him and secure him with nets.
But the Void could not be caught. Shade moved silently, almost dissolving into the air. From beneath his blue cloak, long anthracite whips erupted from time to time with a dull, vibrating hum. They ruthlessly knocked the drones down mid-air, crushing their titanium hulls with one light squeeze. Not a single robot could even get within striking distance of him.
For the trio of gods, this was not a battle — it was an easy stroll. However, the iron logic of the exam was already leading them to three final points. To three rooms where, instead of iron machines, what awaited them was something they were absolutely not ready for...
The first sector of Ground Gamma greeted Grimm with the deafening hiss of overheated steam and reinforced concrete barricades. The Nightmare King moved forward with his usual, lazy grace. His deep burgundy cloak slid softly across the dirty concrete, and his signature, elegant smile was frozen on his pale face. For him, this exam was nothing more than another performance where he was once again given the leading role.
When a column of assault robots drove out from around the corner of a three-story railway warehouse with a heavy tracked rumble, Grimm did not even slow his pace.
— Oh, what a crude, unrefined crowd, — he sighed in disappointment, smoothly raising a black-gloved hand. — Your movements lack plasticity, gentlemen.
A snap of his fingers — and the space around him was torn by a wild, scarlet flash. A barrage of fiery bats erupted from beneath the folds of his cloak. They flew with a creepy, ultrasonic screech, leaving a trail of red-hot soot in the air. The first robot tried to deploy its machine gun nest, but the fire of the Nightmare caught it sooner. The metal of the hull instantly grew pale, danced from the wild temperature, and turned into a liquid iron mush. Grimm smoothly circled between the exploding machines as if to the rhythm of a waltz, burning out the internal circuits of the robots with light, almost weightless touches. In a few minutes, it was all over. Leaving behind only the smoking hulls of the iron machines, the Nightmare King stepped over the burning fragments and entered beneath the gloomy vaults of a huge railway depot.
Here, amid rusted tracks and overturned freight cars, was the lair of the "villains."
Grimm took a step into the semi-darkness, expecting to see instructors or at least a rag-wrapped mannequin that needed to be evacuated. But instead, something clicked dully beneath the ceiling. In that same second, the thick, pink-purple sweet gas of Midnight poured from the ventilation pipes. The air instantly became heavy and sickeningly sweet, and from the depths of the cabin of an old locomotive came the dry, metallic crunch of Snipe's rifle bolt.
— A nice try, — Grimm purred, feeling the sweet chemical fume attempting to cloud his mind inside his mortal vessel.
He smiled fiercely and sharply thrust his arm forward, releasing a concentrated stream of scarlet flame to burn out the gas and clear his path. This was his first and main tactical mistake.
BOOM-CHHH!
The space of the depot shuddered from a terrifying volumetric explosion. The fire of the Nightmare entered into an instant chemical reaction with Midnight's powder gas. The wall of fire rushed in all directions with a wild roar, blowing out the remaining window panes in the ceiling. The blast wave shattered the iron structures, and burning wooden crates along with debris came crashing down, blocking the only exit.
Grimm tossed his head back in satisfaction, waiting for the smoke to clear to end the battle effectively. But when the curtain of soot fell slightly... his heart skipped a beat.
There, beneath the railway platform, trapped by a ring of fire, sat living people. Not robots. Not dolls. Real civilian volunteers. Several adults were convulsively coughing from the acrid smoke, and in the very center of this dirty concrete corner, pressing against someone's jacket, sat a small curly-haired boy of about eight. The kid was suffocating from the fumes, his face was smeared with soot, and tears glistened in his terrified eyes.
Everything inside Grimm froze. The fire he had so recklessly released was now cutting these people off from rescue. The flames were creeping closer and closer to them, licking the edge of the platform.
The Nightmare King took a quick step forward. His face still tried to hold his signature elegant smile, but his lips were already convulsed with sudden tension. He extended a black-gloved hand through the fire, intending to scoop up the child and pull him out of the trap.
And at that moment, the boy raised his eyes.
The kid looked directly at Grimm. At his burning scarlet pupils, at his pale, unnatural skin and the fierce slit of his mouth. In the child's eyes, there was no salvation. A wild, primal, animalistic horror flared up there, freezing the air in the King's lungs. The boy screamed wildly, piercingly, covering his head with his small hands, and in total hysteria threw himself even deeper under the red-hot railway tracks. He was literally pushing himself back into the burning debris, choosing death in the fire rather than touching this monster.
The kid curled into a ball, hid his face in his knees, and trembled wildly and finely from fear.
Just like their little, quirkless Izuku did when Bakugo blew up his notebooks. The boy looked at Grimm with the exact same huge eyes, full of tears and helpless despair, with which Midoriya had once looked when they first found him at the bottom of his own life's nightmare.
In that same second, all of Grimm's royal pride shattered with a deafening screech inside his head.
The UA depot vanished. Before his eyes flashed the cold, blood-red expanses of an ancient, long-burned, nameless kingdom. The memories he had hidden so deeply rushed outward. He saw himself again. He remembered the moment of his own canonical rebirth — when the previous Nightmare King, his own likeness, burned in the hellish flames of the Ritual, and the small, newborn Grimmchild was left standing in the middle of this terrible ash. Absolutely alone. In the cold, alien darkness.
He remembered this endless, cursed pain: you are born in fire, you have never known maternal warmth or a simple human word, you are raised only to become a new vessel for horror and burn yourself again for the continuation of the cycle. He remembered how he himself once, being a tiny fledgling, hid his face in his paws and trembled finely from the terrifying, pulsating Heart of the Nightmare, which demanded him to be a monster.
And now he was doing the same. His fire, his majesty, his "theater" — all of it brought destruction and wild fear to where childhood should have been. For this boy, he was not a hero. He was that same heartless, terrifying Heart of the Nightmare that had once tortured him.
Grimm's hand froze in mid-air. The fingers in the black glove twitched and began to visibly, helplessly tremble. His signature theatrical smile instantly vanished from his face, leaving only a pale grimace of deep self-loathing and disgust at his own nature, distorted by pain. The divine will of the King shattered into pieces from this paralyzing analogy. His attachment to Izuku and the horror of his own past bound him tighter than any chains.
— No... — broke from his lips, hoarse and barely audible.
He could not be this monster. Not for this child.
With one convulsive mental effort, Grimm completely extinguished his scarlet fire. The flames vanished in an instant, leaving the depot in a gray, suffocating semi-darkness. The Nightmare King just helplessly lowered his hands. All his strength, all his pathos drained out of him, leaving only empty worthlessness. He could not take even a step forward. His mind completely refused to fight.
BANG!
A heavy rubber bullet from Snipe, fired from the darkness of the locomotive cabin, struck Grimm squarely in the shoulder with a dull thud. The force of the impact knocked him off his feet, flipping him onto the soot-stained concrete. But he did not even flinch. He just lay on the floor amid the ash and dirt, knees pulled up, looking into the dark ceiling with empty eyes, completely crushed by the ghosts of his own Ritual.
In the third industrial sector, Myla was not just walking — she was leading her conquering march. The huge three-story reinforced concrete hangar built by Cementoss was supposed to be a labyrinth for her, but the Goddess of Light considered it beneath her dignity to wander through corridors built by mortals. She walked straight through, leaving perfectly round, melted holes in the walls.
When a wall of heavy assault drones rose before her at another intersection, Myla did not even raise her hands.
— Mortal scrap metal, — she lazily spat through her teeth, proudly tossing her head back.
One concentrated look of her amber eyes — and dazzling, razor-sharp beams of pure divine radiation pierced the space. The drones did not even have time to turn their guns. Their titanium hulls grew pale from the wild temperature in a millisecond, their internal circuits instantly burned out, and the machines settled onto the floor in white, molten puddles. Myla stepped over the steaming metal, her golden hair swaying softly from the hot air, and a dazzling, burning halo began to unfold around her head. She was confident: her Light was a higher good before which this world had to bow its knees.
She kicked open the heavy iron doors of the final hall, and her voice echoed beneath the vault:
— Come out, rats. Your game is over.
But instead of fear, her answer was the deafening, destructive ultrasonic cry of Present Mic. A sound wave of such force hit Myla in the face that her divine glow shuddered for a moment. The concrete walls of the hangar covered with deep cracks, and Cementoss, standing in the center, instantly pressed his palms to the floor. Massive, multi-layered blocks of reinforced concrete rose from the ground with a rumble, bricking up the source of the sound and creating a dull bunker at the very end of the room.
Myla hissed in annoyance, her eyes flashing with anger. This human noise insulted her majesty.
— Do you think you can hide from the sun behind a piece of stone? — she shouted.
She extended her hand forward, concentrating all her strength into one dazzling, incredibly powerful beam of the Goddess's Light. She was going to burn this barricade to its very foundation, melting it to ash along with the "villains."
SHHHHHH-HHHH!
The white, scorching beam crashed into the reinforced concrete wall with a wild whistle. But Nezu had calculated this step. Cementoss used a special, dense concrete mixture with toxic chemical additives from the Support Course. From the wild, divine temperature, the stone did not just melt — it began to rapidly boil and bubble. In a matter of seconds, the huge hangar filled with thick, acrid, toxic black smoke that smelled of burnt plastic and sulfur. The air instantly became red-hot, like a blast furnace. The structure of the bunker lost its stability and began to collapse inward with a eerie, dry crackle, showering everything around with red-hot debris.
Myla, with a proud smile, took a step through the burned hole, awaiting her victory. But when she looked inside the ruined bunker... the smile froze on her lips.
There, on the floor, pinned to the red-hot wall by debris, sat a human family. Living civilian volunteers. A man, a woman, and two small girls of about five. They were racked by wild, hacking coughs in the cloud of acrid black fumes. The father of the family, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily, was covering the children with his body with his remaining strength, taking pieces of hot concrete on his back. And the mother, in total despair, scratching her fingernails to blood, was convulsively grabbing the girls by the hands, trying to pull them back from the falling ceiling that her beam had just destroyed.
One of the little girls, whose face was wet with tears, raised her head. Her eyes, burned by Myla's dazzling flash, were completely red. She could not see anything. The girl was crying from the stinging, unbearable pain in her eyes, holding tightly to her mother, and screaming throughout the hangar:
— Mommy! Mommy, hold me! I'm scared! I can't see anything! It hurts, Mommy!
Myla froze in place. She met the gaze of the mother of this child. And in the eyes of the woman, who was suffocating in the smoke and pressing her blinded daughter to her chest, shone that same primal, wild, animalistic horror before her Light.
And at that moment, the mental block in the head of the Radiance shattered into millions of bloody fragments.
The walls of UA Academy disappeared. The space around her exploded with visions from her past life, burning her soul through and through. Before her eyes rose ancient, dying Hallownest. Orange plague pustules bursting with a snap on the bodies of bugs. She returned to the consciousness of the infected once more — because she was this Plague, she heard the thoughts of each of her victims and, worst of all, saw through their very own eyes.
A memory flashed before her: she sees the world through the eyes of a maddened mother-bug. An orange fog clouds the mind, and this mother, under her whisper about "light and unity," tears her own nest apart with her own sharp claws, killing her small, defenseless larvae while they squeak in pain. Myla remembered seeing the world through the eyes of ancient warriors who lost their minds and rushed at their own biological brothers and sisters with a wild hiss, tearing them to pieces. She remembered little Myla, who so innocently sang songs in the mines, digging ore, and then her eyes filled with orange pus, and she turned into a wild, dirty monster, doomed to death by someone else's Nail.
Myla was doing it again. Right now.
Her pure, beautiful, majestic Light was not salvation for these weak creatures. It was that same deadly, suffocating, dirty infection that destroys families, melts their shelters, and blinds little children, making them scream in pain. She was not a savior-goddess. She was the monster who brought the Plague.
An unbearable, wild shame and disgust for her own essence gripped her throat. The divine ego of the Goddess of Light was trampled by these children's tears.
— No... I don't want to... — she whispered hoarsely, with a break in her voice, as hot tears of guilt rolled from her eyes for the first time.
With a wild cry of helplessness and despair, Myla completely extinguished her Light. The blinding halo vanished, leaving the hangar in total, heavy darkness mixed with fumes and dust. She shuddered, her knees buckled, and the Goddess simply collapsed into the gray grime, covering her face with her hands, sobbing convulsively from the onslaught of others' deaths inside her head. She willingly surrendered to the darkness, if only to ensure she would never blind anyone else again.
Cementoss, breathing heavily, seized the moment. He waved his arms, and heavy, cold waves of concrete instantly rose from the floor, tightly wrapping around her trembling body and binding her in strong fetters, sealing a total and unconditional defeat.
A dead, oppressive silence reigned in the second industrial sector. There was no steam, no smoke, no explosions here. Only the cold reinforced concrete walls of a massive, abandoned warehouse and the heavy, stagnant smell of old rust, dust, and machine oil.
Shade stood in the middle of the ruined hall, absolutely motionless. His deep blue cloak hung in straight, heavy folds, completely concealing his body, while beneath the darkness of his hood, two white pinpricks of light glowed faintly from the eye sockets of his bone mask.
A few meters ahead of him stood Shota Aizawa, frozen in place. His disheveled black hair stood on end, and his eyes burned with a fierce, blood-red fire, not blinking for a single second. Aizawa held his white capture weapon at the ready, focusing his Erasure quirk entirely on the teenager. Hundreds of meters of cloth circled around like living snakes, poised to bind the target at any given moment. To his right, Vlad King stood like a silent monolith, his hands tucked behind his back, his gaze directed upward — toward a massive iron platform suspended just beneath the warehouse ceiling.
On that platform, at a height of a good five meters, sat two hostages. A brother and a sister. A boy of about eight in a smudged t-shirt and his older teenage sister. In total numbness, the girl held the little boy tightly to her chest, trying to shield him with her body from the grim instructors on the floor. The boy sobbed quietly and convulsively, hiding his wet face in her sweater and flinching at every sound.
The entire structure of the platform was entangled with thick, crimson veins of Vlad King's solidified blood. It was a tactical trap of the highest complexity. The blood worked as a hyper-sensitive tripwire: the slightest surge of energy, an attempt to use a large-scale quirk, or a sudden strike of shadow — and the fasteners would instantly detonate, dropping the iron platform straight onto the sharp, rusted scrap metal and railway tracks protruding from the floor.
Shade stared to the children. His fingers twitched imperceptibly beneath his cloak, intending to release a thin, invisible strand of Void with a familiar, quiet motion to cleanly slice through Vlad King's crimson locks right beneath the ceiling.
But Aizawa saw right through his intention. His red eyes flared even brighter, causing the blackness around Shade's feet to contract convulsively.
— Don't even think about it, Midoriya, — Eraser Head spat through his teeth, his voice echoing hollowly against the walls. — I can see your quirk oozing through your clothes. My Erasure can't shut you down completely, but I can read your every mental impulse. Any attempt to release shadows, and Vlad King lets go of his control. Your power is far too unstable. You'll just tear the platform apart or kill the hostages with your blackness. Surrender. You're cornered.
Hearing the teacher's harsh voice, the boy on the platform peered out fearfully from beneath his sister's jacket. He looked down, his eyes meeting the terrifying, absolute black void beneath Shade's hood, and screamed in panic, clutching the girl tighter:
— Please, don't! Don't hurt us! Don't touch my sister!
That high, childish, terrified cry... slammed into the mind of the Lord of Shades like a deafening explosion.
A brother and a sister. A family holding onto each other at the very edge of a deadly abyss, while a cruel, cold force stared down at them from above.
The reinforced concrete walls of Ground Gamma vanished. The space around Shade exploded with visions that turned the air colder than ice, dissolving the reality of UA into primal darkness.
Before his eyes rose the endless, black, and mute cliffs of the Abyss. That very same cursed place where a dead silence had reigned for millennia, a silence that made one's ears ring. Light never reached here. Shade felt once more the primal, clingy cold of his birthplace, where the air smelled of dust and shattered hopes.
"No mind to think... No will to break..." — the hollow, majestic, and utterly ruthless voice of the Pale King echoed in his skull, burning away his thoughts. — "You are flawed. You are unworthy. Cast them back into the dark."
And Shade saw it again. As if time had reversed, forcing him to relive this nightmare with every single cell of his being.
He stood at the very bottom of a gigantic, endless graveyard of Vessels. And from above, from the immense height of distant Hallownest where the King's strange, selfish white light gleamed, bodies continued to fall. His tiny, defenseless brothers and sisters. They fell in total, mute, voiceless silence — for their creator had stripped them of their voice, depriving them of even the ability to scream before death.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
That terrifying, dry, monotonous sound rained down upon the bottom of the chasm like a torrent. Pieces of pure white porcelain — small bone masks with neat black eye sockets — shattered against the sharp stones one after another. Millions of bodies. Millions of tiny Vessels that had once reached their thin arms upward, begging their father for a single glance, for a drop of warmth. They just wanted to live. They wanted the right to be alive. But they were labeled "flaws." They were called mistakes, waste, and the gates of the Abyss were locked with a heavy seal, leaving those who did not fit the perfect standard to die in the dark.
Shade remembered how he himself had once crawled out from that pile of his siblings' bones. How his fingers had clawed at the fragments of his own brothers' masks as he climbed upward through the pain and emptiness.
And now, through this black veil of a millennia-old memory, he saw the boy and the girl on the iron platform again. They were just as fragile, brittle, and defenseless. And over them stood the system once more. Strict adults who had backed them into a corner, entangled them with tripwires, and demanded Shade's capitulation while staring at him with their red, "erasing" eyes. They were deciding who was worthy and who was not all over again. They had driven children to the edge of a precipice once more for the sake of their "exam."
If he gave in to the mental pressure now and unleashed his primal, divine power to its full extent — gigantic, razor-sharp spears of concentrated Void would erupt from beneath the floor, skewering this hangar through and through. But they would skewer the platform as well. The Void did not know how to be gentle. It only knew how to consume, destroy, and drown everything it touched in darkness. It would simply erase these children from the face of the earth.
He was trapped within boundaries yet again. His higher essence was completely paralyzed by the presence of these two human children. Shade froze, his shoulders dropping heavily, while the shadows at his feet contracted convulsively and helplessly, radiating a wild mental agony.
Aizawa, seeing that the teenager was completely disoriented, locked within himself, and had ceased all resistance, took a confident step forward. His capture coils took flight with a soft rustle, unfurling to secure his defeat on points, just as had already happened with Grimm and Myla. In the monitor room, Nezu was already raising his teacup to his lips, ready to declare the end of the test.
But the UA teachers had made one fatal mistake. They didn't know who they were dealing with.
Unlike Myla, who bore the guilt of the Infection, Shade was not the executioner. He was not the monster who tortured others. He himself was the very victim who had crawled from the hellish bottom of the Abyss, passing through pain and death to become the great Avenger. His mental paralysis lasted only a heartbeat. And when the memories of his dead siblings reached their peak, the pain did not break him. It transformed into an uncontrollable, pure, primal fury.
Shade slowly lowered his head. The two white pinpricks of light in his mask vanished for a fraction of a second, plunging his eye sockets into absolute darkness, and then... flared up with a white light so frantic, cold, and furious that Aizawa instinctively stopped, a shiver running down his spine.
Void magic cannot be released because it will kill the children? Shadows are forbidden due to the safety rules of mortals? Fine. So be it.
But he would NEVER IN HIS LIFE allow any force in the universe to make him feel like a helpless, tiny Vessel locked at the bottom of the Abyss ever again, while others decided his fate.
Breathing heavily and hoarsely through the slits of his mask, Shade took a sharp step to the side — straight toward a half-ruined reinforced concrete slab weighing several tons, left behind after the construction.
— That's enough, young Midoriya, the exam is over! Stand down! — Aizawa shouted, throwing his scarves forward.
CRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNCH!
A horrific, meaty tearing of concrete and the wild screech of ripped metal caused both instructors to literally freeze in their tracks. His capture weapon fell helplessly to the floor.
Shade, without using a single drop of magic or shadows, slammed his left hand into the concrete slab while his right gripped the base of the inner rebar framework. With a wild, animalistic roar, he ripped a massive, long, and thick iron rebar out of the reinforced concrete block with a single jerk. It was two meters long, with a sharp, jagged, and torn edge. Heavy chunks of stone came crashing to the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.
No magic. No quirks. Just the pure, primal physical might of pale bones and a righteous fury for his dead siblings.
The Void Lord gripped the heavy, rusted piece of iron with both hands, holding it like an ancient iron Nail. He squared his broad shoulders, his cloak billowing into the air, as a hollow, ominous hiss erupted from beneath his hood. Completely ignoring Aizawa and his Erasure — which was now entirely useless against a chunk of iron — Shade marched straight ahead with the heavy, menacing thud of his combat boots.
He was going to smash through these damn barricades, tear down the teachers, and rescue the children using nothing but raw, physical force by hand. And not a single canon of this world could stop him.
Aizawa had never seen anything like it in his entire life. His quirk was still burning his eyes, and he held his Erasure at its absolute maximum, yet the teenager before him simply ignored the laws of logic. The heavy, two-meter piece of iron in Shade's hands sliced through the air with a whistle.
Vlad King reacted first — he attempted to throw up additional walls of blood to block the boy's advance. But Shade moved with primal, wild speed. A deafening screech of metal echoed across the warehouse: with his very first frantic swing of the rebar, the Void Lord simply crumpled the instructors' iron barricades like tin cans. With a second strike, he hooked the cable mounts and shattered Vlad King's blood lock. The platform carrying the children lurched violently and began to plummet downward — straight toward the sharp scrap metal.
Aizawa still managed to orient himself: his capture weapon shot upward, catching the iron edges and slowing the descent. But before the structure could even touch the floor, Shade was already there.
He tossed the bent rebar aside, and it clattered loudly across the concrete. Springing toward the platform, he scooped both children into his arms with a single smooth, almost gentle motion. His oversized black sleeves momentarily shielded them from the debris like wings. Closing their eyes in terror, the boy and girl clung tightly to his blue cloak, completely unaware that this terrifying "Villain" had just saved them from death.
Shade gently set the children down on a clean patch of floor near the exit. A final heavy, raspy exhale escaped from beneath his hood. His white pupils slowly faded away, returning to their usual calm state. The exam was over.
An hour later, a dead silence reigned in the locker rooms of Ground Gamma.
The trio of gods sat on a long wooden bench. Not a single student was around them — the instructors had wisely ordered Class 1-A to remain in the monitor room.
Grimm sat with his head lowered firmly, elbows resting on his knees. His magnificent burgundy cloak was smeared with gray soot, and a dirty stain from Snipe's rubber bullet darkened his shoulder. He simply stared to a single spot on the floor, his long fingers occasionally clenching into fists. There was no longer a single spark of that theatrical, confident merriment with which he had begun this day left in his eyes.
Beside him, curled into a tight ball, sat Myla. Her golden hair was disheveled and dusted with gray concrete powder. She wrapped her arms around her knees and trembled softly, imperceptibly. The face of the Goddess of Light was pale, and dark tracks remained beneath her eyes from the tears she had so hastily tried to wipe away. Her majesty had been shattered by the guilt toward those she had blinded.
Shade anchored the end of the bench. He sat upright, silent and unmoving like a stone monolith of the Abyss. His mask was clean, but a faint, cold, anthracite smoke still oozed from beneath the folds of his cloak. His knuckles were beaten bloody from the reinforced concrete, and his heavy breathing echoed off the tiled walls of the locker room.
They were silent. Not one of them dared to utter a single word. Each of them was currently torturing themselves with the ghosts of their past lives, which this mortal labyrinth had so ruthlessly ripped open.
At that exact same time, in the main monitor room, Principal Nezu slowly raised a porcelain cup to his lips and took a slow, satisfied sip of warm tea. On the screens before him, three final frames glowed: Grimm lying in the ash; Myla bound in concrete in total darkness; and Shade standing beside the rescued children with an iron rod in his hands.
Aizawa entered the office, breathing heavily and wiping his eyes with a handkerchief after the prolonged use of his quirk. Cementoss and Vlad King marched grimly behind him.
— Well now, colleagues, — Nezu chirped softly, a signature sly smile appearing on his face. — The exam went absolutely flawlessly. The results are exactly what I calculated.
— Flawlessly?! — Vlad King exclaimed indignantly, leaning heavily against the console. — Principal, that third one... Shade. He nearly killed us with pure physical strength alone! He ripped a chunk of iron rebar right out of a slab and smashed through my blood blocks by hand! They completely failed the tactical portion. The girl surrendered, and the theatrical one stopped resisting entirely under fire. They acted terribly disorganized.
Nezu chuckled quietly and thinly, lowering his cup onto its saucer with a clear porcelain chime. His small, black bead-like eyes flashed with deep pedagogical intellect.
— Exactly, Vlad-kun. They failed the exam on points. And that — is the best thing that could have happened to them.
The teachers fell into a tense silence, waiting for the principal's explanation. Nezu spun his chair toward the large screen, where the recordings of their meeting from a few days prior were playing.
— You see, — the principal explained calmly, looking at the somber faces of the teenagers in the locker room. — They came to us with a wild, destructive power. Overconfident and proud, they are used to the idea that any obstacle in life can simply be burned away, crushed, or incinerated single-handedly by relying exclusively on their massive energy output. They viewed their quirks as an absolute. And if we had deployed ordinary robots against them, they would have turned the training ground into a pile of scrap within two minutes. That would have only fed their teenage pride.
Nezu raised a paw, emphasizing the details:
— The true intent of my test lay in restraint. I deliberately calculated the parameters so that living hostages were in critical proximity to the enemies. I created conditions where massive power becomes the ultimate foe. A single accidental flash of Grimm's fire — and Midnight's gas detonates, blocking the civilians. A single beam from Myla — and the concrete turns into toxic fumes. A single surge of Shade's shadow — and the platform falls. I wanted to put them in a tactical trap where they were bound to lose due to their own rigidity. I wanted to show them an "unsatisfactory" mark in the gradebook to break their arrogance morally. To make them understand that immense might without caution and control is not salvation. It is a deadly threat to those they are supposed to protect.
Nezu sighed, his gaze turning serious and almost sympathetic for a brief moment:
— Look at them now. They are a force that has bowed its head before human fragility. They are morally crushed because they realized their brutal strength almost cost civilian lives. It is a harsh lesson, but it will mold them into true heroes who will think before every strike. They yielded and capitulated purely out of teenage insecurity and the realization of their tactical error.
The teachers nodded in silence, agreeing with the principal's logic. Nezu's plan had indeed worked one hundred percent. He had tripped them up mentally strictly by the academy's rules, forcing them to reflect on the safety of the people.
Principal Nezu smiled with satisfaction, genuinely believing in his own pedagogical genius.
But the clever and all-knowing principal of UA could not have guessed, even in his worst nightmare, just how terribly wrong he was. He thought he had given the teenagers a bad grade in their report card and made them worry about scores. He had no inkling that his standard test of restraint had accidentally torn open the ancient wounds of ancient deities, forcing them to walk once more through the hell of the Plague, the horror of the cursed Ritual, and the graveyard of dead Vessels at the very bottom of the Abyss...