The atmosphere in the rest area felt like a battlefield that had just ended. Heavy panting breaths, complaints about cramped muscles, and the sound of gulping water dominated the room. For most of the Class 1-A students, the first obstacle of the U.A. Sports Festival was a brutal physical and mental shock.
For Nabiel, it was an annoying reminder that his human body could genuinely feel sore.
Nabiel sat leaning back on the long bench, letting his back absorb the coolness of the wall behind him. He hid both of his bandaged hands inside the pockets of his sports pants, trying to ignore the faint throbbing pain caused by forcing himself to do parkour on the minefield earlier.
Beside him, Yaoyorozu Momo sat with an elegant, upright posture, even though a thin layer of sweat still adorned her forehead. The girl turned toward Nabiel, her face filled with the kind of worry he had seen far too often lately.
"Does your hand hurt? That was really chaotic earlier," Yaoyorozu asked, her voice soft so as not to attract the attention of the other students. Her eyes were fixed on the pocket of Nabiel's pants, as if she could see through the fabric and spot the burn scars beneath.
Before Nabiel could answer, Iida Tenya, who was sitting across from them, chimed in. The class president adjusted his glasses with his usual stiff movement.
"The ice Todoroki created actually benefited the others," Iida commented in an analytical tone. "Although his initial intention was to obstruct, it ended up creating stable footholds and paths. It made many people pass this race more easily than they should have."
Nabiel let out a long sigh, allowing the air to leave his still slightly warm lungs. "I'm fine, Momo," he replied casually, shifting his gaze to the ceiling of the room. "But it was still exhausting and surprising. Running that far is definitely not a recommended lifestyle for someone like me."
Momo could only offer a small smile upon hearing the lazy complaint that had become the trademark of her childhood friend.
When Nabiel turned his head to the left to find a more comfortable sitting position, the corner of his eye caught a movement. Midoriya Izuku, the absolute winner of the first round who now carried the burden of ten million points, walked out of the rest area. His steps were unsteady, and his facial expression looked extremely troubled, as if the entire sky had just collapsed and landed on his shoulders.
Nabiel stared at the back of the green-haired protagonist. In the eyes of an Outer Observer, Midoriya was currently radiating the aura of 'The Main Character Experiencing a Crisis.' It was a classic transitional moment in a story arc, the point where the hero realizes that the first victory is only the beginning of greater suffering.
A rare sense of curiosity suddenly tickled Nabiel's mind. Being on this stage as an ordinary human had changed his perspective. He no longer wanted to just watch from a high-dimensional screen. He wanted to see up close how the gears of the narrative turned.
Nabiel slowly rose from his seat and stretched his stiff shoulders. "Hmm, I'm going to the toilet first."
Momo looked at him with slight suspicion, but she only nodded. "Don't take too long, Nabiel. The announcement for the next round will probably come soon."
"Yeah, yeah," Nabiel muttered while waving his hand without turning around.
Nabiel stepped out of the rest area, deliberately following the direction Midoriya had gone. The concrete corridors of the U.A. stadium felt cold and quiet, in stark contrast to the faint cheers of the spectators still echoing from outside.
It was not difficult to find Midoriya. The young man was pacing back and forth in a quiet corner of the hallway, muttering to himself at an inhuman speed. His hands moved wildly, while his eyes stared blankly at the floor.
"...ten million points... everyone will be targeting me... I need to find a team that can protect me, but who would want to take such a huge risk? Uraraka-san? Iida-kun? But if they join me, they will also become the main targets... what is the right strategy to survive..."
Nabiel stopped his steps a few meters away from Midoriya. He leaned his back against the wall, slipped his hands back into his pockets, and let his silence blend with the shadows of the corridor. As a true observer, Nabiel knew exactly when to let a character absorb their conflict before offering intervention.
"You're thinking too hard, Midoriya," Nabiel's voice broke the silence, his tone flat yet loud enough to stop the protagonist's muttering.
Midoriya jolted violently, his shoulders jumping as if he had just been electrocuted. He turned around quickly. "N-Nabiel-kun?! How long have you been there?"
"Since you started discussing the probability of friends betraying you in the seventh minute of your muttering," Nabiel answered casually, even though in reality he had just arrived.
Midoriya looked down in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah... sorry. My habit kicked in again. I was just... thinking about the next round."
"Ten million points," Nabiel said, getting straight to the point. "The grand prize that suddenly dropped into your lap. How does it feel to stand at the top of the food chain, Midoriya?"
The question sounded casual, yet for Midoriya it was like pressing the button on his anxiety time bomb. The young man let out a shaky breath, his face once again filled with doubt.
"It's terrifying," Midoriya admitted honestly, his voice almost a whisper. "When Midnight-sensei announced my score, I could feel everyone's gaze change. They no longer see me as a classmate or a rival... they see me as prey. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to hold this position."
Nabiel stared at Midoriya in silence. His usually bored dark black eyes now held a hint of interest.
For Nabiel, who had once stood at the peak of the cosmic hierarchy as an absolute entity, Midoriya's complaint felt deeply ironic. Nabiel had everything: boundless power, infinite knowledge, control over reality, and he had thrown it all away because being at the top was the most boring thing in the universe.
Yet for Midoriya, a mortal human who started everything from the bottom, the peak was a place filled with terror and responsibility.
'Humans are truly fascinating creatures,' Nabiel thought. 'You fight with all your might to reach the top, then tremble in fear once you actually get there.'
"You know, Midoriya," Nabiel began speaking, his voice sounding lazy as usual, yet carrying an odd weight in every word. "In a story, or a game, being the main target is indeed troublesome. Everyone wants to bring you down. Everyone wants to take what you have."
Midoriya swallowed hard, looking at Nabiel attentively.
"But you forgot one basic rule," Nabiel continued, his eyes looking straight at Midoriya. "The person who holds the grand prize is the one who controls the game."
Midoriya blinked, confused. "Controls... the game?"
"Yes," Nabiel nodded slowly. "They will all come to you, right? That means you don't need to bother looking for them. You don't need to guess where the enemy will move, because all their compasses point toward you. Instead of running like a panicked prey, why don't you use that position to make them dance on your own stage?"
Those words hung in the air. In Midoriya's eyes, his green pupils seemed to widen. The gears in his clever brain began turning in a completely new direction. The panic that had covered his face slowly faded, replaced by a familiar spark of determination, the kind of spark that always made Nabiel feel that watching this narrative was worth the effort.
"They will come to me..." Midoriya muttered, this time not in a panicked tone, but in an analytical one. "So, if I can predict their approach... I can prepare the right formation. I don't need to attack blindly. I just need to control the space around me!"
Midoriya looked at Nabiel, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Nabiel-kun, that really makes sense! This is incredibly helpful! Thank you so much!"
Nabiel only yawned widely, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "I didn't say anything genius. I'm just a lazy person who prefers to let problems come to me rather than bother chasing them."
He turned around, ready to head back to the rest area before Momo really started looking for him.
"Wait, Nabiel-kun!" Midoriya called out suddenly.
Nabiel glanced back slightly over his shoulder.
"If... if you don't have a team for the next round yet," Midoriya swallowed, looking hesitant but mustering courage. "Would you like to join me?"
Nabiel remained silent for a few seconds. He looked at the protagonist in front of him. Joining a team worth ten million points meant he would become the center of attention for the entire stadium. It meant he would be attacked by Todoroki, Bakugo, and all the other strong characters. It was the complete opposite of his goal in life as a peaceful background character.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on Nabiel's lips.
"Sorry, Midoriya," Nabiel rejected him in a flat but non-hostile tone. "Like I said, I'm lazy. Being near you right now is the same as voluntarily standing in the middle of a high-speed train track."
Midoriya looked a little disappointed, but he nodded in understanding. "Ah, that's true. You just recovered from your injury. Sorry for asking, Nabiel-kun. And... thank you again for the advice!"
"Yeah. Good luck with that burden of yours," Nabiel muttered softly as he continued walking down the corridor.
As Nabiel walked back toward the rest area where Momo and Iida were waiting, he slipped his hands back into his pockets. His small intervention earlier might slightly change the dynamics of the next round. He had not used his Outer power, nor had he manipulated reality. He had simply thrown out a new perspective.
Yet sometimes, in a good story, a single sentence from an observer is enough to change the course of history. Nabiel let out a soft sigh. Being human and getting involved in the plot... turned out to have its own unique charm.