Just as Revery and Mewtwo finished their test, the rest of the U.A students found themselves facing similar challenges.
Most handled the opposition with little difficulty, but one thing quickly became clear—every single one of them was ambushed.
It wasn't a coincidence. It was a coordinated attack targeting the U.A. students specifically.
That's when they finally understood the reason behind Snipe's strict warning not to research the license exam beforehand.
He was preparing them for this situation, he intentionally made the test harder.
It became painfully obvious—Snipe expected them to pass the exam even under pressure, even when ambushed.
The ambush itself was part of the test. As future heroes, they'd be targeted when they least expected it.
Villains wouldn't wait for them to be ready. They'd strike when things were quiet, when defenses were down. And if there was anything they'd learned about Snipe as a teacher, it was that he didn't waste time with empty threats or meaningless drills. Everything he taught had a purpose.
This ambush was his message: If you want your license, you have to earn it under real pressure.
When the screens showed Mewtwo and Revery passing the test with flying colors, the rest of the students couldn't help but feel a surge of energy.
There was no doubt—they had faced the same kind of coordinated attack. And judging by how quickly they passed, it meant they had overwhelmed their opponents effortlessly.
That moment lit a fire in several of the students, but especially in three of them: Nejire, Lemillion, and Wendigo.
Lemillion stared at the screen and broke into a wide grin. Then, he laughed—loud and confident—as adrenaline surged through him. With zero hesitation, he activated his Quirk, phasing through the ground and rocketing forward with raw speed. A group of examinees stood in his path, ready to ambush him.
Too bad for them—he was ready too.
He had already taken down two opponents earlier, but now he had a new goal. This wasn't just about passing the test anymore. Not with classmates like Mewtwo and Revery already done. He refused to fall behind.
If anything, their success only pushed him harder.
Having people that strong in the hero course didn't discourage him—it fueled him. Lemillion lived for competition. He thrived under pressure. The challenge of rising to the same level as his most capable peers? That was exactly what he wanted.
"They really are amazing," he thought, remembering his recent spar with Raiden. That fight alone had been enough to light a spark in him.
He knew Raiden's fighting style. He had studied it. And yet, during their match, Raiden never even used his full arsenal. He held back—not because he underestimated him, but because he didn't need to go all out.
And his speed... it was unreal. Almost unfair.
That memory stayed with Lemillion—not as a source of frustration, but as motivation. He didn't resent Raiden for being strong. He respected it. And now, it was his turn to show what he could do.
With renewed vigor, Lemillion charged toward the approaching enemies.
The moment he saw movement, he activated his Quirk. A water bullet was hurled straight at him—fast, and accurate—but it passed harmlessly through his body, phasing out and splashing against the ground beside him. Using the momentum, he shifted again, his body blinking in and out of physical form as he propelled himself forward.
To some of the opponents watching, it looked like he had teleported—one moment he was in front of them, the next, he was behind.
With a single, powerful kick, he knocked one of them out cold. He didn't waste a second. With sharp focus and relentless pace, Lemillion kept fighting, diving in and out of the ground and nearby obstacles, striking fast and hard.
Bit by bit, he racked up points. And with every knockout, the number of fainted opponents around him grew steadily. His rhythm was like a machine—strategic, clean, and unstoppable.
While Lemillion battled on the ground, high above, Nejire was engaged in a full-on aerial clash.
Almost all the examinees with flight abilities had instinctively gathered in the sky, turning the upper battlefield into a chaotic dance of strikes and mid-air maneuvers.
There were two main reasons for this. First, fewer enemies roamed the skies compared to the ground—it was a battlefield with cleaner opportunities. Second, and maybe more importantly, it was a silent agreement: everyone wanted to see who the true ruler of the skies was. A childish attitude but it still was something they were doing.
Among the flying contenders, one group quickly stood out—a team of four from Skyline Academy, a prestigious hero school located near Mount Fuji. Unlike most schools, Skyline focused exclusively on airborne heroes.
Their entire curriculum revolved around aerial rescue, flight tactics, and mid-air combat. Students with flying Quirks from across Japan aimed to get accepted there.
And now, here they were, eager to prove themselves against flyers from other top schools.
They were dominating the aerial battlefield—until she arrived.
A streak of gold tore through the sky like a comet—the "yellow tornado" had entered the fray.
What had been a carefully coordinated battle turned to chaos in an instant. It was just one girl, but her presence was overwhelming. Spiraling and surging with wild energy, she tore through the ranks like a living storm. In seconds, multiple examinees were eliminated—nine, in fact, taken out in a single pass. She didn't pause to gloat or even fight further.
She just passed through, a streak of blinding light and motion.
The tornado of energy continued its rampage all the way down to the ground, crashing through another group of unsuspecting students. Within moments, the scoreboard updated again, names and times flashing across the massive digital display.
1st PLACE: MEWTWO — 3:53
2nd PLACE: REVERY — 4:27
3rd PLACE: LEMILLION — 5:45
4th PLACE: NEJIRE-CHAN — 5:47
After the top four passed, Tamaki Amajiki stood alone in the field, surrounded and tense. A tight circle of at least nine opponents had closed in around him, their expressions confident, ready to pounce. He let out a quiet sigh.
His heart wasn't just racing—it was sinking.
All his friends had already passed. Mewtwo. Revery. Nejire. Mirio. Even the new girl had blazed through the test like a storm. And here he was—cornered, doubting himself, again.
"I wanna go home," Tamaki muttered under his breath, the words barely escaping his lips.
"Oh? Gonna surrender?" one of his opponents taunted, a smug grin spreading across his face.
Tamaki flinched slightly. A part of him genuinely wanted to nod and give in. He was thinking about quitting. The pressure was heavy, and the numbers weren't in his favor. Nine enemies, all staring at him. All ready to strike.
But then he remembered the effort his friends had poured into this exam.
The way Raiden had fought all this year—not just about strength, but with confidence. Raiden's Quirk was similar to his own, a transformation type.
Yet Raiden had embraced it without hesitation, without shame. And maybe... maybe Tamaki had started to feel the same way.
He clenched his fists, swallowing the fear.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, lifting his eyes. "I can't. I have to pass this. I can't be left behind."
Before anyone could react, something shifted.
From Tamaki's back, several golden tentacles burst forth, each lined with a tough, scale-like plating. His legs shifted too, reshaping into strong, compact limbs—like a rabbit's. With a sudden burst of energy, he jumped forward—not upward, but through the ring of opponents.
Mid-air, his tentacles shifted again—turning into massive, muscular extensions that resembled fists. He launched a flurry of attacks, precise and overwhelming, knocking down anyone in his path. His movements were fast and unpredictable, blending offense and evasion like a blur of golden limbs.
In less than a minute, the field was cleared.
5th PLACE: SUNEATER — 6:24
Inside the waiting room, the group of successful examinees was starting to grow. One by one, students trickled in and joined the table lined with snacks, drinks, and a large TV screen showing live footage of the exam battlefield.
Mewtwo, Revery, Nejire-chan, Lemillion, Suneater, and Wendigo were all seated around the same table, casually eating and watching the screen.
Despite their recent battles, the atmosphere among them was relaxed—but their eyes were sharp, analyzing every move from the remaining candidates.
The room buzzed with quiet conversation and the occasional laugh.
"Ne, ne!" Nejire-chan chirped, waving her hands excitedly. "What do you think about the rest? There were sooo many interesting Quirks from the other schools!"
She gestured wildly with her hands, making swooshing noises—"Fuaaash!"—then mimicked an explosion with—"Gosshhh!"
It was weird, no one really understood what she was doing, but somehow, everyone got it anyway.
"If I had to put it into words…" Mewtwo's voice echoed telepathically in the minds of those around the table, calm and analytical. "I'd say it was... interesting. There were some decent Quirks, sure—but honestly, I think they took things too lightly. When I fought them, they had no plan, no real coordination. Their abilities weren't refined. I don't want to sound harsh, but… they were lazy, there a lot of they could do."
Alice, sitting nearby, chimed in with a casual shrug. "Well, in my case, my Quirk's already tricky to counter, but yeah—I thought the same. It felt easy. But I guess that's just because of how my power works."
"Mmm, yeah," Mirio added thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "It wasn't what I expected. It was different from the standard we're used to. Their fighting skills definitely had a lot of room to grow—but I think there's potential there. A lot of it, even."
Tamaki and Wendigo had both looked at themselves and their friends, and then they realized something fundamental—this group wasn't normal. The level of power, control, and experience gathered here was something far beyond typical students.
As if picking up on their thoughts, Mewtwo continued speaking telepathically.
"I guess we're doing pretty well… Now I can really understand why U.A. is so respected among hero schools. Why most of its students make it into the top 100 rankings nationwide. I didn't want to say it out loud before, but honestly? Fake modesty is just another form of disrespect."
At his words, the others around the table nodded in agreement. It rang true. Many of the Quirks they'd seen had potential—some even looked incredibly powerful or complex—but lacked development, direction, or discipline.
Take, for instance, the student who could create and control fireballs.
On paper, it was a powerful ability. But instead of using it creatively or pushing his limits, to try to combine something, he had just tossed the flames around like a kid throwing dodgeballs. Mewtwo had noticed immediately—his output was low, his control imprecise.
Quirks, like muscles, grew with pressure and repetition. The more you used them, the more you refined the edges. And training a Quirk didn't just improve the ability itself; it carried real physical benefits too—strength, stamina, awareness.
But when Mewtwo fought that fireball user… it was like fighting himself two months ago, maybe even weaker.
That thought alone spoke volumes.
He could have assumed that was the normal pace of growth for most hero students—but when he compared it to his own classmates… there was no competition. Even the average among U.A. students had already surpassed that level.
This meant something important—something Mewtwo had been thinking about for a while now:
It was possible to grow stronger, even for the people with the most average Quirk. Even for people without a special set of circumstances. Like a Quirk like Raiden one.
Because truth be told, his Quirk was special. That was undeniable.
Psyionic Mutation—That was the name the hospital in which Raiden stood during his coma used to refer to his Quirk.
A rare and powerful transformation-type ability that combined telekinesis, telepathy, enhanced reflexes, and energy manipulation—wasn't something you saw every day.
It wasn't a "simple" ability. It was more like having multiple Quirks bundled into one, and it grew stronger the more he pushed it, the more he fought, the more pressure he was under.
He was very aware of how fortunate he was. How unfair it could seem to others.
But that only made him more curious.
Lately, he'd started asking his classmates a peculiar question—one most wouldn't think mattered much.
"When did you awaken your Quirk?"
To his surprise, none of them had awakened early.
Nejire? Seven. Almost eight.
Mirio? Six. Wendigo? Six. Tamaki? Eight.
Even Alice—who wielded a frighteningly complex Quirk—had awakened at seven.
According to everything he observed, late awakenings were often tied to greater potential. The later a Quirk manifested, the more powerful it tended to be, especially if it required complex energy usage or mental strain, however six years old was considered a late bloom, not thirdteen like him.
It wasn't a rule, of course—but it was a pattern, the problem was, that this theory hadn't basis, at least Raiden didn't found anything wich was weird, he was a 100% sure this information was already discovered.
One that lined up perfectly with what he was seeing now.