However… whatever this bastard was doing, it still wasn't enough to stop Bakugo.
He activated his Quirk again—
Harder this time.
Much harder.
The explosion behind him roared, twice as strong as before…
And yet he moved even less.
Three meters.
That was all.
And the moment he landed, the invisible weight multiplied.
The pressure on his back slammed down like a falling boulder, and a stronger force dragged him toward the starting line. His knees trembled under it, sinking slightly as the ground groaned beneath him.
Bakugo gritted his teeth, eyes burning.
Mewtwo hadn't even opened both eyes—
He looked at Bakugo with the exact same calm expression as before, like he wasn't even worth the effort.
"You bastard… DIE!"
Bakugo roared, and his hands exploded again and again—
Bang.
Bang.
BANG—!
He forced himself forward through sheer violence, each blast propelling him another half-meter, another full meter, until he carved out another two meters of progress…
…but the pressure crashed down on him again.
This time his right knee slammed into the ground.
The invisible weight pinned him like gravity had multiplied by ten.
He tried to stand.
He couldn't.
Each step felt like walking against a hurricane while dragging a truck tied to his back.
But the strain… the pressure… the sweat rolling down his arms—
—that was exactly what his Quirk needed.
Nitroglycerin flowed faster, sparks igniting sharper.
He pushed forward again.
One blast.
Two.
Three.
Each one lifted him a little more, dragged him a little further, until he was finally—
finally—
within six meters of Mewtwo… and eight from the goal.
But at that distance he collapsed to both knees, gasping for air.
Not even his fury could hide the desperation in his breathing.
His muscles shook violently with each breath, his palms blistered, and he knew—
If he moved even one limb the wrong way, he'd be crushed flat against the pavement.
The only thing keeping him in place was the crater he'd blasted into the ground.
He'd jammed his hand deep into it, fingers bleeding, wrist shaking, holding on like his life depended on it.
And the only reason he wasn't pinned completely was because the pressure pushing him to the starting line was so intense that mantained him somehow balanced.
Crushed and pushed at the same time.
"Dammit… dammit…"
Blood dripped down his fingers, and Bakugo clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.
He couldn't deny it anymore.
If he'd chosen the regular exam—with the robot opponents—
he would've passed easily.
But now?
He was hurt.
His strength waned.
Every breath felt like it cost him something.
And across from him, the upper-year student…
Mewtwo…
…still floated exactly as before.
Calm.
Steady.
Completely unbothered.
As if Bakugo's struggle wasn't even worth acknowledging.
But almost as if reading his thoughts, the upper-year student finally spoke.
"If you wish, I can heal you and let you return to the principal exam."
The words hit Bakugo right in the center of his pride—
like a punch to the throat.
Instantly, he snarled back.
"Like hell I'd do that!"
He tightened his bleeding grip on the crater anchoring him to the pavement and forced his other hand forward, igniting another explosion.
He blasted his palm into the next crack he created and pulled himself ahead by sheer stubbornness.
And again.
And again.
Each movement was torture.
Every new explosion made his vision flicker white for a second.
His arms trembled violently.
The pressure increased with every centimeter he advanced, crushing him harder, pushing him down until his face and chest were pressed flat against the pavement.
At the eleven meters of distance, it felt like someone had tied a car to his legs and shoved him off a cliff—
the pull backward was so brutal he could barely breathe.
"Dammit… DAMMIT—!"
He used every shred of strength he had left just to drag himself a few miserable centimeters closer.
Only a few minutes had passed since he started.
No other student had arrived—
—or so Bakugo thought.
Because suddenly, Mewtwo turned his head slightly to the side and allowed a tiny smile.
"Sadly for you, I can detect when someone gets too close."
Bakugo didn't even have time to wonder what that meant.
Behind him—
A startled yelp.
A dull thud.
Followed by a girl's voice complaining, "Ouch… that hurt…"
Bakugo couldn't process any of it.
All sound was distant, blurry, buried under the roaring frustration in his head.
At this point, he didn't even care about reaching the goal anymore.
His only objective was to get close enough to punch this floating bastard in the face.
Meanwhile—
Hagakure, who had already collected a few points in the main exam, decided to try her luck here.
She approached cautiously… very cautiously.
And for a moment, nothing happened.
The pressure didn't hit her.
She wasn't crushed to the floor.
She even managed to walk right past Bakugo, who was bleeding and struggling on the pavement.
So she thought she understood it:
It only works if he's looking at you.
But the moment she was just one meter away from Mewtwo, he turned—
looked directly into her invisible eyes—
and in the next instant she was lifted clean off the ground.
Then launched backward toward the starting line.
She hit the floor only a couple of inches up—softly enough not to break anything—but hard enough to sting.
Before she could say anything, a voice echoed inside her mind:
"Take it as a courtesy. I didn't apply the full force you should've received for coming this far. It would've been too much at once. So only this time… just a little push."
Mewtwo's tone was polite.
Hagakure's mind raced.
How did he detect her?
And not only that—he looked straight at her, right into her invisible eyes.
But she didn't have time to overthink it.
She had to see how far she could make it in this insane test.
She stepped forward again.
This time she felt it—a faint push. Nothing painful… but definitely there.
Each new step made her slightly heavier, as though someone were slowly loading weight onto her back.
At a meter and a half, she felt like she was carrying another person her size over her shoulders while walking against a stubborn wind.
By three meters, her breath hitched.
It felt like eighty kilos pressed directly on top of her, and the wind resistance doubled.
Her arms shook. Her knees buckled.
And she kept going anyway.
The more she advanced, the more the pressure grew—an insane, steady increase.
Every step was about ten percent worse than the last.
Soon she couldn't hold herself up.
Her legs gave out completely and she collapsed face-first onto the pavement.
The invisible weight dragged her backward until the pressure lessened enough for her to stand again.
She gasped for air, trembling.
Her invisibility didn't hide her fear.
She glanced forward and saw Bakugo—a whole ten meters ahead—his body shaking, blood dripping from his hands, barely surviving under pressure she couldn't even imagine.
If the weight grew this fast at three meters…
then whatever he was enduring at ten must have been pure hell.
The girl swallowed, steadied herself, and made her decision.
She left.
Not defeated—just realistic.
She stepped back toward the beginning, and Mewtwo tracked her movement the entire time with his telekinesis. He didn't release her until she was far enough not to attempt anything reckless.
As she finally cleared the zone, Mewtwo muttered mentally:
"I thought Mirio was the only pervert going around naked. Looks like I was wrong… but dammit—not today."
He took a slow breath.
"Calm Mind."
His aura flickered softly as he stabilized his focus again.
More and more applicants approached the entry point of the trial.
But the moment they saw Bakugo—half crushed into the pavement, explosions sputtering in desperation—they froze.
Chills ran down their backs.
Still… they were here to be heroes.
So, one by one, they stepped in.
And one by one, they fell to their knees by the three-meter mark.
The physically stronger ones made it to four.
None reached five.
Bakugo alone had reached ten meters—far beyond any of them—and still refused to give up.
Slowly, defeated and overwhelmed, the crowd began to retreat.
Then another boy stepped forward.
Black spiky hair, sharp teeth, a confident walk.
He glanced around at the collapsed students, then at Bakugo, who was still dragging himself forward despite bleeding everywhere.
Eijiro Kirishima.
His Quirk allowed him to harden and sharpen his entire body.
And the moment he understood the test, he didn't hesitate.
He stepped in.
The pressure slammed down on him immediately—enough to make him stumble.
But he didn't stop.
One meter.
Two.
Four—
And there, he activated his Quirk.
His skin hardened, his stance tightened, and he pushed forward with renewed determination.
Mewtwo watched him with mild surprise.
Not because he reached six meters—but because he activated his Quirk exactly at the point where most applicants gave up entirely.
Even Bakugo, who was still forcing himself forward inch by inch, had used his Quirk from the very first step.
"that's promising" tought Mewtwo, a good and simple enhancement Quirk, sometimes simple is better.
The boy kept going.
The next three meters felt slightly more bearable thanks to his Harden ability, but even then, when he finally reached Bakugo's position, one knee slammed onto the pavement.
He gritted his teeth… and pushed forward anyway.
Step after step, breath after breath, inch by inch—until he was only a single meter away from Mewtwo.
Even with hardened skin, even with a Quirk built for this kind of pressure, his body trembled under the invisible weight crushing him from above and pulling him backward.
Tiny cracks spread across his hardened skin, like fractures on stone.
Each inhale came out as a rasp.
At twelve meters—just three away from Mewtwo—Eijiro was barely hanging on.
Seeing both boys in that state, the rest of the applicants quietly gave up.
No one else dared approach.
Only two contenders remained.
Bakugo saw Kirishima getting ahead of him, even by a little, and something inside him snapped.
His blurred vision, his bleeding hands, his bones screaming under pressure—none of that mattered.
He roared and detonated his Quirk on the ground at maximum output.
The explosion behind him was massive—far stronger than anything he had used so far.
It shot him forward past Kirishima… but the moment he gained that distance, the pressure multiplied again.
This time, the pull on his leg was entirely nullified by the crushing weight pressing him to the ground.
His body felt like it was being torn in two—gravity dragging him down while an invisible force pushed him back.
But he was close.
Close enough.
With the last bit of strength he had left, shaking violently, Bakugo dragged himself forward.
He stretched one arm out, clawing, dragging, dragging—
Fifty centimeters.
With his palm facing upward, he triggered his Quirk once more.
His sweat was boiling from effort, volatile enough to create an explosion strong enough to injure almost anyone.
But instead of hitting Mewtwo—
A translucent bubble formed around him.
A perfect, silent sphere of psychic energy.
The explosion burst against it like a firecracker against reinforced glass, doing absolutely nothing.
Mewtwo didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even shift a millimeter.
Bakugo's teeth clenched until the gums tasted like blood.
His bones made a sickening crack.
His vision dimmed at the edges.
With what little air he could still force out of his lungs, he looked at the floating figure and whispered:
"…how strong are you?"
A simple question.
And he didn't mean "in general."
He meant here.
In this school.
Mewtwo stared down at him, voice calm, neutral, almost gentle.
"I'm the strongest."