While the people in the meeting room were doing their best to make sense of what they had just discovered, along with the new problem Shakuyaku had caused, they were also discussing how the exam should proceed.
Meanwhile, the examinees on the ground were still in turmoil over what had just happened.
There were around 800 people on the field, and they had just finished the rushed lunch that had been served to them.
Many of them were wondering what would happen next.
Would the exam be redone? That would be unacceptable.
Or would it be stopped entirely?
Too many questions ran through their minds.
Not everyone, however, was thinking that hard. Some were already looking ahead, preparing themselves for whatever came next. It was especially obvious among the stronger individuals.
Ulti sat quietly in a corner, arms crossed.
Karin observed the others while casually drinking from her water bottle.
Mila Rose leaned against a tree behind the crowd, trying to calm the adrenaline still running through her veins.
All of them were waiting.
Among the examinees were several unique and outstanding individuals who radiated confidence and control.
One of them was the vine-haired girl who had questioned Mei earlier.
Her name was Ibara Shiozaki.
Her design was heavily influenced by religious and botanical themes.
Her most striking feature was her long, green, vine-like hair covered in sharp thorns. It wasn't decorative. It was her Quirk: Vines.
She had a serene, delicate face with dark green eyes, sometimes reflecting a cross-like shine, and thin eyebrows that emphasized her calm expression.
Ibara was often described as pure-hearted, though that purity carried a dramatic intensity. She was deeply religious and frequently used biblical metaphors. She viewed her power as a divine gift and often prayed before and after battles.
Soft-spoken. Humble.
But not weak.
If accused of being wicked or underhanded, her demeanor changed. The thorns showed. She became theatrical, almost frightening in her righteousness.
She behaved like a character from a classic stage play, striking poses and speaking in flowery language, especially when making moral points.
Ibara Shiozaki
Authority: Genetics
Category: Quirk
Epithet: Vines
Ibara had been one of the people Yoruichi saved earlier. She had seen something she shouldn't have, and the shock caused her to faint. Thankfully, she had recovered and convinced herself it had only been a dream.
Still, she worried about the exam. Her Vines allowed her to merge seamlessly with forests, camouflaging herself like a carnivorous flower hidden among greenery. She had earned 204 points using that very strategy.
About twenty feet to her right stood another unique presence.
Her gothic lolita aesthetic made her stand out sharply from the rest. Earlier, Maki had called her a maid. He didn't know what "goth" meant, so he simply assumed it was a maid outfit with extra flair.
Her name was Riruka Dokugamine.
She had long, bright magenta hair tied into high pigtails with decorative fasteners. Her outfit consisted of a dark, high-collared dress with a white tie, often paired with a white ushanka-like hat and stylish boots.
Her pink-violet eyes were expressive, constantly shifting between irritation and starry-eyed fascination.
Riruka was loud, impatient, and bossy.
If she liked something, she claimed it. If she found something plain or gross, she dismissed it instantly. She often screamed at people to hide the fact that she was flustered or actually cared.
Despite that, she possessed a strong moral compass and genuine loyalty toward those she considered hers.
Her past involved trapping people she liked so they would stay with her forever, masking a deep fear of loneliness beneath bratty entitlement.
Riruka Dokugamine
Authority: Spirituality
Category: Fullbring
Epithet: Dollhouse
Race: Fullbringer
Her Fullbring, Dollhouse, was a conceptual ability tied to affection.
If she found something cute or interesting, she could move a person or object into another container such as a dollhouse, birdcage, or even a juice box. She activated this by sneezing on the target or attaching a heart-shaped pass. Once inside, the target shrank to fit.
Within her containers, she controlled everything.
She could even tuck herself inside another person by perceiving them as a container, hiding within them undetected.
Conceptual powers like hers were often more dangerous than brute force. You couldn't parry a sneeze.
"Achooo…"
She glanced around, visibly disgusted with most of what she saw.
Moving back to the crowd, there was another woman Maki had noticed earlier and simply labeled "pink hair." In truth, her entire body was pink.
Mina Ashido.
Her skin was bright lilac-pink, a result of her Quirk, Acid. Two pale yellow horns protruded from her head. Her eyes had black sclera with bright yellow irises. Her long, messy pink hair was a slightly darker shade than her skin.
She wore a pink dress that reached her knees and a pink sweater with a face printed on the back.
She was almost always smiling and in motion. Her background in street dancing shaped her fighting style, making her agile and unpredictable.
Mina was socially perceptive, often the first to check on someone who felt left out.
Back in middle school, she had stood up to a villain to protect her classmates, even without formal training. Still, she had a normal-girl side, stressing over exams and teasing like anyone else.
She loved fashion, music, and pop culture.
Mina Ashido
Authority: Genetics
Category: Quirk
Epithet: Acid
Race: Human (Mutant Traits)
Her Quirk allowed her to secrete corrosive liquid from her palms. She could adjust both viscosity and acidity to avoid harming others unintentionally.
There were many more unique individuals among the examinees, all waiting as the exam remained on hold.
Some people, however, simply couldn't mind their own business.
Like this guy.
Yellow mullet haircut. Brown eyes. A cross earring. About 5'7", wearing blue jeans and a white V-cut shirt.
Random Guy Number One.
Let's call him Ben.
All Might had saved him earlier. But he didn't see anything because him all he saw was blurry and his saved.
His power allowed him to create earrings and use them offensively, throwing them so opponents would swallow them, activating their effects from inside.
Frankly, not impressive.
But his attention wasn't on strategy.
His eyes locked onto someone in the corner.
It was Mila Rose
His eyes froze on her, but it wasn't just looking anymore. It was devouring. Every inch of her skin seemed to pulse with invitation, every curve daring him to imagine what it would feel like under his hands.
Her breasts—full, impossibly heavy, pressing against that thin white cloth—moved with each breath, teasing him cruelly. He imagined slipping a hand beneath the fabric, fingers sinking into warmth, tracing the swell until she gasped, letting her chest fall into his grip. His cock throbbed at the thought, the line between want and obsession already gone.
His gaze fell lower, hungry and possessive. The narrow waist that curved into hips so commanding made him ache to circle them with both hands, to press his body against hers and feel the hardness of her muscle under skin. The sway of her thighs was hypnotic, calling him to kneel, to touch, to knead, to drag her into urgent, messy pleasure.
And then her ass. Full, round, demanding, practically daring him to imagine burying himself in her. The taut material made it impossible to look away. He could see it tightening slightly as she moved, the subtle roll of flesh, and his imagination exploded: hands on that ass, spreading her, gripping, pulling, dragging soft whimpers from between her lips.
Heat pooled low in his stomach, sharp and insistent. He ached to taste her, to feel the slick warmth of her skin under his mouth, to hear her whine his name as he pushed her against anything solid, anything that would hold her as he took her fully.
He wanted it all. Her control, her restraint, the way she might protest softly before succumbing completely. He wanted to dominate her, to bend her over, to see her shiver, to see her eyes darken with want that matched his own. Every thought twisted, every fantasy dirtier than the last. He wasn't just craving her body—he was craving her surrender, her submission, the delicious corruption of her composure.
His hands twitched. His cock ached, hot and hard, aching to feel, to touch, to claim. The crowd around them didn't exist. Only her did. Only the imagined taste of her skin, the imagined moan, the imagined heat slicking beneath his fingers. Obsession wasn't enough; he needed her. Needed her completely.
And just like that, he knew he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop.
He wanted her. Wanted to taste her. Wanted to shove his damn earrings into her mouth. That was his twisted fixation.
He approached slowly.
Mila Rose noticed immediately.
His eyes gave him away. Creepy. Disgusting.
He opened his mouth to speak—
Baaaaaaaaaang.
Her kick landed squarely between his legs.
Ben flew backward, rolling across the ground.
Those nearby had already sensed his intentions. Most men recognized Mila Rose's Amazonian attire and knew better than to approach.
Ben apparently didn't.
Now his balls paid the price.
And it wasn't over.
Mila Rose walked toward him with slow, controlled steps and unsheathed her sword.
Ben, dizzy and in agony, saw her shadow fall over him. He looked up, terror flooding his face as the blade pointed directly at his eye.
He heard her voice.
"You deserve to die, you maggot."
Shiiiiiiiiing—
!!(゜ロ゜ノ)ノ
It was nice meeting you, Ben.
I won't forget your sacrifice.
.