As Batch-3 stepped off the field, the chatter in the observation deck was electric. Even among recommendation students, few had seen something that clean, that composed, that fast.
Ayaka walked into the stands, posture as perfect as when she left.
Izumi was already waiting near the rail, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Good work," he said casually. "You almost looked like you were enjoying yourself."
Ayaka smiled softly brushing her braid over her shoulder.
"I was. The terrain was interesting, and Juzo's control was remarkable. He almost caught up by the end."
Izumi raised an eyebrow.
"Almost. You really must stop giving people hope like that."
Ayaka laughed quietly, a graceful sound that made even Momo smile from where she was seated.
Inasa, still leaning forward in awe, grinned widely.
"Man, you Adachis are terrifying! One of you breaks sound, the other bends space, what's next, gravity?!"
Ayaka tilted her head politely.
"Not yet. But it's a tempting thought."
That earned her a few chuckles from the nearby students.
Aizawa's voice came through the speakers then, cutting though the noise.
"Next batch, report to the starting line."
***
The hum of the testing arena quieted as Batch Seven stepped onto the track.
Six students lined up at the starting line, but the tension in the air made it feel like a battlefield.
Momo Yaoyorozu stood calm among them, brushing a speck of invisible dust from the hem of her shirt. Her expression was focused, posture straight, eyes scanning the course ahead.
This wasn't a race to her, it was a problem to be solved.
Beside her, Setsuna Tokage cracked her neck with an audible pop. Her grin was sharp, almost predatory. She was already buzzing with excitement.
"Don't freeze up on me, Yaoyorozu," she teased. "Wouldn't want to embarrass that fancy brain of yours."
Momo smiled faintly.
"I'll try to keep up."
Up in the observation deck, Ayaka leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm.
"She looks calm," Izumi noted quietly beside her.
Ayaka's lips curved slightly.
"That's how you know she's already thinking five steps ahead."
The overhead board flickered to life.
READY…
Then —
BEGIN
The instant the signal blared, Tokage shot forward. Her body breaking apart mid-run, arms and legs spiralling ahead as her torso followed, darting through the air like a living puzzle rearranging itself in motion.
Momo took her first step.
Scarlet motes of light flared to life across her palm, spiralling together into a compact Nano Forge conduit that materialized above her skin, humming softly.
By her second step, she waved her hand outward, releasing two small, metallic objects that launched forward with a sharp whirr.
A split-second later, the spectators realized what they were — scout drones, cutting through the air at blistering speed, red scanning beams sweeping the terrain ahead.
Her third step triggered another pulse of creation. Red motes gathered around her feet, coalescing into hover-discs that locked under her shoes with a metallic click.
By her fourth step, she was gliding effortlessly, momentum carrying her faster with every breath.
The next wave of motes formed behind her back, folding into a compact propulsion pack that ignited in a focused burst of blue-white flame. The sudden acceleration nearly blurred her figure from view.
Spectators were surprised as Momo's calm, precise movements contrasted sharply against Tokage's scattered, frantic energy.
Then, the motes flared again. This time around her left eye, extending along the side of her head and curving behind her ear.
In seconds, a sleek visor formed, its display flickering to life with a translucent red hue.
Through the visor, the live drone feed synced directly to her vision — topographical scans, environmental data, and structural overlays filling her view. A soft digital voice crackled in her earpiece:
[Warning: Metallic debris detected – trajectory unstable.]
[Magnetic interference active – field polarity mapped.]
[Recommended route: thirty-two degrees northeast, altitude variance 2.1 meters.]
The moment the data stabilized, Momo adjusted her hover angle, shifting weight smoothly as the world in front of her changed.
Ahead lay a debris field. A swirling storm of shattered metal fragments and floating panels suspended mid-air by strong electromagnetic flux. Massive shards of plating spun like bladed satellites, crashing into each other before being violently repelled apart. The magnetic fields were unstable, fluctuating every few seconds in bursts that distorted light around them.
A lesser student might have frozen.
Momo's eyes sharpened.
Her visor flickered, and a calm synthetic voice echoed in her earpiece.
[Preparations for magnetic counter-field deployment complete.]
"Good."
Without losing her momentum, Momo extended her hand toward the terrain ahead. Her palm glowing with spiralling red motes of light.
Small metallic orbs shot out one after another, each propelled by controlled bursts of compressed air. They landed rhythmically along the debris zone. One at the entrance, another a few meters ahead, then another, forming a neat line all the way through to the end of the field.
The moment Momo's hover-discs crossed into the debris zone, the first orb activated.
A pulse of white energy erupted outward, forming a two-meter radius stabilization field. The instant any flying debris entered the field, it lost momentum and crashed harmlessly to the ground.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed from the observation deck.
"Polarity stabilizers," he muttered. "Portable ones. She mapped the interference field and neutralized it on the fly."
Within seconds, Momo zipped through the chaos, gliding across the chain of stabilizer fields. Each orb triggered perfectly in sequence, creating a safe corridor amid the storm.
As soon as she passed each one, it self-detonated in a controlled burst of flame, erasing its own components.
No evidence. No cleanup. Perfect efficiency.
Present Mic whistled.
"Yo, she even made them self-destruct! Talk about leaving no trace!"
Aizawa nodded slightly.
"She's covering her operational footprint. That's tactical thinking."
As Momo cleared the last polarity field, new data streamed across her visor.
[Next Zone: Pressure-plate field detected — randomized intervals.]
Instantly, the motes along her back flared to life. Red light coursed across her shoulders and down her spine, covering the propulsion unit strapped to her back.
The jetpack began to morph. It's plates shifting, ports opening. A split second before she stepped into the new zone, the transformation finished: two compact micro-thrusters deployed near her waist, while the main exhaust glowed hotter, brighter, burning with doubled intensity.
The upgraded propulsion system ignited with a roar.
She launched forward, a streak of controlled power, barely touching the ground as she weaved over the deadly stretch. The pressure plates detonated one after another in her wake, thunderous blasts chasing her shadow, but she was already gone. Clearing the entire zone in seconds.
Ayaka smirked from the observation deck.
"Reflexive adaptation. She's designing mid-battle."
Izumi nodded.
"That's her strength. She doesn't just react; she evolves with every step."
As Momo shot past the final explosion, her visor flashed again with an alert.
[Next Zone: Automated drone field detected.]
Four mechanical drones emerged from hidden panels along the walls, their lenses glowing a cold electric blue. Sparks of current crackled across their frames as they synchronized mid-air, arcs of energy connecting between them like glowing threads.
Within seconds, they began weaving an electro-net, a luminous grid expanding rapidly to cover the entire area.
Ahead of her, Tokage was already moving, her body scattering apart once more into a dozen segments that zipped effortlessly between the electric webs. Her torso reformed on the far side as she called back with a grin,
"Keep moving, Yaoyorozu!"
"I am," Momo replied calmly, her voice steady despite the chaos.
As she spoke, red motes flared once more — swirling around her palm, condensing into a new construct.
A thin metallic disk formed between her fingers, humming softly.
She looked up toward the swarm of drones, her visor tracking their flight patterns in real time as the next tactical overlay appeared across her vision.
Momo ducked low, sliding across the ground on her hover-discs as one of the glowing nets skimmed overhead, so close it singed the air above her head.
Her conduit flared again, red motes swirling up her arm as a small circular emitter materialized over her wrist. She aimed it forward and fired a pulse of crackling red static, a compact EMP burst.
A sharp wave of distortion rippled through the field. The nearest drone spasmed, its propulsion unit stuttering violently as arcs of electricity danced across its frame. Its blue lens flickered erratically before going dark, and the machine spiralled downward, smoke trailing as its circuits burned out.
The pulse spread, disabling nearly eighty percent of the drones in a single sweep. The rest, however, adjusted their pattern mid-air — moving erratically to cover the exit of the terrain, weaving an unstable electric barrier that blocked the path forward.
From the observation deck, Aizawa's gaze sharpened.
"She'll need another emitter," he murmured.
But she didn't build another one.
Instead, Momo leaned forward and accelerated. The teachers' eyes widened slightly as she charged straight toward the remaining drones.
Glowing nanobots streamed from her shoulders, racing down her arms in intricate patterns until both forearms gleamed with red circuitry. She swung her arms forward in a fluid motion, releasing a burst of compressed energy.
Thin rod-like projectiles — sleek, aerodynamic, and magnetically charged — shot out in perfect precision, each guided by the data fed from her visor's targeting feed. Every rod hit its mark, piercing the drones' primary sensors dead-centre.
One after another, all four machines sparked violently and dropped from the sky in synchronized arcs of light.
From the observation deck, Present Mic practically shouted over the noise.
"Yo! Did she just build an EMP mid-run?!"
Aizawa didn't even blink.
"And modulated the frequency to avoid frying her own systems," he replied flatly. "She's not improvising, she's optimizing."
Momo's visor flickered again as new data scrolled rapidly across her field of view.
[Next Zone Identified: Optical Terrain Distortion – Illusion Field Active.]
The fourth section ahead looked deceptively simple, a straight metallic corridor lined with glowing panels and tall steel walls. But the moment Tokage crossed the entry line, the entire world fractured.
Walls shifted like liquid mirrors. Floors blurred and stretched into false angles. Multiple paths appeared where only one had existed a second ago.
Tokage slowed mid-air, her separated limbs colliding into invisible surfaces as she tried to regain orientation.
"Huh?! What the hell?!" she shouted, spinning as her torso reformed.
She tried to ascend, but the ceiling elongated endlessly, reflecting itself over and over like a kaleidoscope. Every direction looked real, and wrong.
From the observation deck, Present Mic leaned toward Aizawa, voice echoing through the speakers.
"Whoa! Illusion tech! That's nasty! The floor, walls, and ceiling are all refracting light!"
Aizawa's eyes narrowed.
"Perception test," he muttered. "Let's see how they handle it."
Momo didn't slow down. Her visor was already feeding her a constant stream of analysis, red data flickering across her display like a heartbeat.
[Optical projection confirmed.]
[Multiple false corridors detected.]
[Refraction irregularities mapped – real path identified.]
Her eyes sharpened, fingers twitching slightly as she processed the data. The red light of her visor reflected in her calm, focused gaze.
"Filtering light spectrum… refraction analysis complete," Momo whispered.
A swarm of red motes rippled across her visor, briefly obscuring her face before retracting seamlessly back into her skin.
A small lens attachment formed over her visor, glowing faintly. The moment it locked into place, the false holograms dissolved from her vision.
What once looked like a maze of endless corridors now revealed its truth — a single, twisting path of solid ground weaving through layers of illusionary light.
Meanwhile, Tokage's detached hand slammed into a fake wall. The projection flickered and shattered like glass, scattering her disembodied limbs in all directions.
"Ugh—! This is infuriating!"
Momo passed beside her with effortless grace, voice calm but firm.
"Don't rely on your eyes," she advised gently. "Trust the patterns."
Tokage blinked, surprised — then smirked midair.
"Heh. Smart tip. Guess I'll just follow you then!"
Her body split again, parts of her trailing behind Momo as they darted together through the shifting maze.
From the observation deck, Aizawa watched with his usual stoic expression.
"She's decoding the projections in real time," he said, his tone almost approving. "Exceptional adaptability."
The illusionary walls suddenly dissolved, revealing the final stretch of the course. A wide track that ended abruptly at a massive pitfall.
Floating platforms drifted lazily across the chasm, creating unstable, shifting paths to the other side.
Wind roared upward from the depth below, carrying an echo that hinted at the sheer drop — at least forty meters down. The finish line shimmered faintly on the far edge, more than a hundred meters away.
Tokage reassembled midair, her grin wild and full of challenge.
"Guess it's time to fly!" she shouted, scattering once more. Her limbs zipping forward like guided missiles, reforming piece by piece across the platforms.
Momo's visor flashed with data overlays.
[Depth: 42.3m]
[Distance: 103.4m]
[Wind Resistance: Minimal]
[Optimal Path: Calculated]
Her conduit pulsed brightly as her right hand extended forward. Red motes converged and solidified into a grappling launcher, sleek and compact. At the same moment, the jetpack on her back roared, its thrusters glowing with a deep amber hue as the hum rose to a resonant pitch.
She crouched slightly, hover-discs scraping faintly across the metal track as she gained speed gliding with the fluidity of a skater slicing through ice, wind whipping her hair back.
Then, she fired.
The grappling hook shot out in a crimson blur, latching onto the side of a floating platform far across the pit with a sharp metallic clank.
As if responding to her intent, the jetpack's thrusters flared. It's exhaust igniting into searing white-blue flame.
The cable went taut.
The air roared.
And Momo Yaoyorozu was airborne — launched like a bullet from a railgun, the tension of the line snapping her forward in a perfect arc.
She soared high above the obstacle field, a streak of brilliance cutting across the artificial sky. The flames of her jetpack trailed behind her like a comet tail. And for that moment, suspended between light and motion, she looked less like a student taking an exam and more like a hero already in flight.
Tokage turned midair, eyes wide.
"She's—what the—she's slingshotting herself?!"
At the peak of her arc, Momo detached the grappling cable. The line snapped free with a sharp metallic twang, and her trajectory shifted — sending her hurtling downward toward the finish line at blistering speed.
She twisted gracefully midair, her jetpack firing short, controlled bursts to stabilize her descent. The thrusters flared with bursts of white-blue flame, cutting through the updraft and allowing her to angle herself perfectly toward the last platform.
Her boots began to glow faint red as they were enveloped by motes, shifting and reforming until her hover-discs extended seamlessly from the soles. The discs hummed to life, their edges outlined with a thin crimson light.
She hit the platform.
The impact sent a wave of dust spiraling outward as her hover-discs caught the air cushion beneath her. She slid the last half meter toward the finish line, sparks tracing behind her, before crossing it in a smooth, flawless glide.
The moment she did, the faint red glow at her feet faded. The discs powered down with a low hum, as her momentum slowed to a perfect stop.
The timer board lit up in bold red letters:
Setsuna Tokage — 18.4 seconds
Momo Yaoyorozu — 19.1 seconds