Ten months had passed since the supermarket incident. For ordinary citizens, that was enough time to change a life. For an Outer Observer like Nabiel, it was merely the duration of a standard time skip before the main plot truly began.
And here he was now, standing in front of the giant gates of U.A. High School's Battle Center B.
The sun shone brightly, reflecting off the massive metal surrounding the mock exam arena. All around Nabiel, dozens of junior high school students were stretching, murmuring nervously, or showing off their Quirks to intimidate their rivals. The air was thick with the scent of cold sweat and youthful ambition.
Nabiel? He was letting out a wide yawn.
His appearance stood in stark contrast to the other participants who wore aerodynamic sportswear. Nabiel arrived wearing black cloth trousers and his trusty oversized white shirt. The sleeves were so long that they covered his entire palms, dangling down as if he were wearing borrowed clothes. His black hair was a mess, looking as if he had just crawled out of bed five minutes ago.
Momo is not here, Nabiel thought with his eyes half closed.
Of course. His childhood friend had entered through the recommendation track, a VIP route perfectly suited for a character with a wealthy background and an extraordinary Quirk. Nabiel could have easily manipulated reality or used his Outer status to secure a seat without a test. However, a part of him, the part seeking firsthand experience, had decided to take the regular exam. He wanted to see how the script of this world selected its heroes.
"ALRIGHT, LISTENERS! START!"
Present Mic's shrill voice echoed from the watchtower, breaking Nabiel's daydream.
Most of the participants stood still, confused and looking for a countdown. However, Nabiel knew the basic rule of every action story: there are no countdowns in a real fight.
Without wasting a single second, the young man stepped forward. His shoulders were slumped and his posture was relaxed, yet his steps carried him through the gates before the other participants realized what was happening. A few seconds later, the swarm of teenagers finally snapped out of it and scrambled past him while screaming in panic.
"Too slow," Nabiel murmured flatly.
The exam area was a highly detailed miniature city. There were concrete buildings, paved roads, and traffic signs. However, around every corner, mechanical dangers awaited.
BZZZT! CLANK!
From an alley to Nabiel's right, a green single-wheeled robot with the number 1 painted on its body zoomed out. The robot's red eye locked onto Nabiel as the nearest target. Its mechanical arm rose, preparing to strike.
Nabiel did not panic. He did not activate any super strength, he did not emit an aura, and he did not use his Quirk at all.
Instead, from behind his dangling long white sleeves, a silver flash slid down and was caught perfectly by his fingers. It was a military tactical knife, sleek, incredibly sharp, and matte black on the handle.
This was the result of the last ten months. While Momo was busy training her molecular creation and her physique for the recommendation exam, Nabiel had accompanied her to the Yaoyorozu family dojo. There, they practiced close quarters combat. Nabiel did not need a Quirk to deal with small fry obstacles, he only needed efficiency. And a knife was the purest form of efficiency.
The 1-Pointer robot swung its fist.
Nabiel simply tilted his head slightly to the left. The iron fist whizzed past his ear, leaving a gust of wind in its wake. In the eyes of an Observer, this robot's movement had a very noticeable animation lag. It was too easy to read. It was too linear.
With a movement that was incredibly fluid and required no excess effort, Nabiel stepped into the robot's striking range. His right hand holding the knife flashed upward. The tip of the blade did not hit the hard iron armor, but instead pierced right into the gap of the robot's neck joint, which was the meeting point between hydraulic cables and optical sensors.
CRASH!
Electrical sparks sprayed out. Nabiel twisted his knife ninety degrees and pulled it out quickly. The robot's main system short circuited in seconds. Its engine died, and the iron wreck collapsed forward, landing with a loud thud right next to Nabiel's feet.
"One point," Nabiel muttered monotonously. He flicked his knife casually, hiding it back within the shadows of his sleeves.
He continued walking down the streets of the fake city. All around him, chaos erupted. The examinees were firing lasers, exploding flames, and destroying robots with brutal physical strength. The sounds of explosions and screams filled the air.
Nabiel simply strolled as if he were in a city park. He avoided the main paths filled with characters seeking attention, choosing narrow alleys and blind corners instead.
Every time a robot appeared, Nabiel finished it in the same way. He would evade with minimal movement, then stab a joint, cut a power cable, or damage an optical sensor with his knife. His movements were not flashy, produced no explosions, and were very quiet.
A 2-Pointer robot tried to attack him from behind. Without looking back, Nabiel ducked, letting the robot's claw hit the brick wall. He spun his body, using the momentum to swing his knife at an exposed cable behind the robot's mechanical knee. The robot lost its balance, and Nabiel ended it with a neat stab to the processing unit in its head.
"Thirty two points," he calculated mentally. That was enough to pass the standard. This was truly boring.
He leaned against a lamp post, putting the hand holding the knife into his trouser pocket. His dark, hollow eyes watched a blonde participant who was constantly firing lasers from his navel, shouting with joy. In another corner, a boy with glasses ran at high speed, kicking robot after robot.
What kind of exam is this? Nabiel criticized the world's script in his head. This is not a test to become a hero. This is a test for thugs with destructive power. Those who have non physical or intelligence based Quirks are automatically eliminated. It is a very poor system design.
Suddenly, the ground beneath Nabiel's feet shook violently.
The glass in the mock buildings cracked. A giant shadow covered the streets. From the center of the city, a massive robot, the size of a skyscraper, rose up and crushed the surrounding buildings. Dust and debris fell like a meteor shower. It was the 0-Pointer robot, the greatest obstacle.
The examinees around Nabiel began to scream in panic and ran backward, away from the mechanical monster.
"Run! It cannot be defeated!" one of them shouted.
Nabiel stared at the giant robot without blinking. He did not retreat, but he did not move forward either. His Outer instinct immediately read the true function of the robot's existence.
Ah, I see, Nabiel thought, his eyes narrowing lazily. This is not an enemy to be defeated. This is a plot device, a narrative tool deliberately included to force the main characters to show their sacrificial and heroic nature. It is a classic cliché.
A large chunk of concrete the size of a car fell from above, heading straight for where Nabiel stood. Instead of using his power to destroy the concrete, Nabiel simply took two small steps to the right.
BAM!
The concrete shattered into pieces right to his left, the dust dirtying his white shirt. Nabiel sighed, brushing the dust off his shoulder with an annoyed expression.
He had no intention of becoming a tragic hero today. He let the other participants who possessed a main character aura save whoever was trapped near the giant robot. His task here was only to collect the minimum points and pass without attracting attention.
"TIME IS UP!"
Present Mic's voice echoed again, followed by a loud siren.
Instantly, all the remaining robots stopped moving. The exam was over. The participants collapsed to the ground, panting, exhausted, and some were even crying because they felt they had failed.
In the middle of that sea of exhausted and sweaty teenagers, Nabiel stood tall. His breathing was steady. His oversized shirt was only slightly dusty. He let out a small yawn, his deep black eyes staring at the artificial sky of U.A.
His tactical knife was already stored neatly back inside his sleeve, clean of any stains. Throughout this brutal exam, Nabiel had not used his Quirk at all. There was no reality manipulation and no Outer powers. There was only a knife, absolute observation, and efficient movement.
"Finally finished," Nabiel murmured softly, turning to walk toward the exit. "Now, I just want to go home and sleep."