Inside the massive auditorium dedicated to the written entrance exam of U.A. High School, an oppressive silence reigned, broken only by the frantic rustling of paper and the stressed scratching of pens on desks. Hundreds of teenagers stared at their test papers with pale faces, sweating profusely as they wrestled with complex mathematical equations and physics laws.
In the very last row, Killua Zoldyck sat in a state of sheer boredom, resting his cheek on his left hand. With his right hand, he spun his pencil between his fingers with a speed and dexterity that blurred to the naked eye.
Inner Monologue (Killua): "Calculating the trajectory of projectiles in a closed environment? Assessing impact force based on mass and velocity? Structural anatomy of human weak points? Did I accidentally walk into a Zoldyck family entrance exam? I memorized this drivel when I was six."
Killua finished the math and physics section in less than ten minutes. However, when he flipped the page to the final section, his pen stopped. The bold title read: "Heroic Ethics and Hero History".
Killua furrowed his brows in genuine confusion as he read the first question: "During a routine patrol, you encounter a villain holding a civilian hostage in a narrow alleyway, threatening to kill them if you approach. What is the correct heroic action to ensure the safety of the hostage?"
Killua read the question twice. To him, the answer was obvious, even simpler than the physics equations. He didn't hesitate and wrote in clear, firm handwriting:
"Approach from the target's blind spot using presence erasure. Target the brainstem or sever the spinal cord in the neck in a single, swift strike before they realize the threat. Terminating the life of the captor immediately is the only guarantee of ensuring no harm to the hostage."
He did not realize that his answer diametrically opposed the heroic principle of "saving everyone without killing anyone." To him, this was simply "efficiency." He set his pen down, crossed his legs in the chair, and closed his eyes to take a long nap until time ran out, leaving the proctoring teachers trading glances of confusion.
An hour later, everyone transferred to the massive orientation hall. The venue was dark, except for the brightly lit stage, where the Pro Hero "Present Mic" was screaming into the microphone with exaggerated enthusiasm. The sheer loudness of it annoyed Killua's acute auditory senses, honed by years of living in shadows.
"Welcome to my live performance, all you examinees! Everybody say HEEEY!" Present Mic yelled, met only by an awkward, dead silence from the auditorium.
Killua sat with his feet propped on the chair in front of him, surveying the room with cold detachment. He noticed the green-haired boy (Midoriya) sitting close by, muttering in awestruck fanboy fashion and shaking with excitement as he stared at the sound hero. Beside him, a blonde-haired boy with piercing red eyes and a perpetually aggressive scowl (Bakugo) looked like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
Suddenly, a tall, glasses-wearing boy (Iida Tenya) stood up and began waving his arms with mechanical stiffness, criticizing Midoriya for his distracting muttering and berating the academy for a perceived typo in the pamphlet.
Killua let out an audible sigh and leaned his head back: "What a massive headache... are these really the strongest teenagers in this world? They're just annoying children playing security guard."
In front of the colossal gates of Battle Center B, dozens of students stood tensed, performing warm-up exercises and psyching themselves up. Killua stood at the back, hands in his baggy pockets, his blue eyes casually observing the giant iron gate with boredom. He had hoped to see this "All Might," but it seemed the exam was merely about destroying scrap metal.
"Okay, listeners! Start!"
Present Mic's voice suddenly crackled from the loudspeakers.
The ordinary students froze in place, expecting a standard countdown, a signal, or something clearer. They looked around at each other in confusion.
But Killua... he waited for no one.
In the cold reality of assassination, enemies do not give you a starting signal. The first seconds of hesitation mean death.
The moment the gate cracked open just enough for a human body to pass, and in a fraction of a second, Killua relaxed his body entirely. He invoked the "Rhythm Echo" technique. No sound came from his steps, only a cascade of afterimages left behind by his blinding speed. He vanished from before the other students as if he had evaporated into thin air.
Present Mic screamed through the loudspeakers: "What's the matter, listeners?! There are no countdowns in real battles! Look at that silver-haired kid, he's already started and is racking up points!"
Inside the faux city, there were no resounding explosions or heroic shouts where Killua operated.
A massive three-point robot appeared, targeting its weapons toward the silver-haired boy.
In any normal situation, a hero would have flamboyantly used their Quirk to destroy the robot. But Killua didn't. He slid under the robot's mechanical arm with a motion that was graceful and precisely calculated. In the brief moment of contact with the machine's chassis, his fingernails transformed into lethal, razor-sharp claws.
A single, silent strike.
He didn't crush the robot; he didn't explode it. Instead, he slipped his hand into the minuscule gap between the robot's neck armor plates and severed the central wiring harness with clinical coldness. The robot's red optical sensors went dark, and it collapsed to the ground as a piece of lifeless scrap metal.
"Three points..." Killua muttered, casually brushing dust from his hand. He sighed deeply: "These mindless machines have no blood, feel no fear, and don't even try to dodge attacks. There's no pleasure in killing targets that are already dead."
Within a few short minutes, Killua was moving like a ghost between the buildings, disabling robots with terrifying efficiency, targeting their mechanical weak points with minimum movement. His score quickly reached 45 points, a more than adequate number to pass.
Then... he stopped.
Overwhelmed by total boredom, he leaped with effortless cat-like flexibility to the roof of one of the taller buildings. He sat on the ledge, dangling his legs in the air, content to simply watch the other students screaming and exerting themselves for a single point. With his soft, boyish features and calm demeanor, he looked genuinely innocent, as if he were simply enjoying the view of the chaotic battle below.
In the dark monitor room, massive screens displayed every corner of the test zones. The Pro Heroes watched intently.
"This year has some truly promising talents," Snipe remarked, pointing to Bakugo's screen, who was brutally exploding robots left and right.
However, in the corner of the room, Shota Aizawa stood with arms crossed, his exhausted eyes fixed on a single screen... the one showing the silver-haired boy sitting casually on the rooftop.
"Shirikumo... what is this boy's Quirk?" Aizawa asked in a low, husky voice.
A teacher checked the data tablet quickly: "Number 99... Killua. The Quirk slot in his file is completely empty, marked as 'Unspecified'."
Aizawa's eyes narrowed dangerously as he watched a slow-motion playback of one of Killua's attacks.
"Look at his movements," Aizawa noted, his tone catching the attention of both Principal Nezu and All Might. "He isn't fighting. He has zero interest in showing off or destruction. There isn't a single wasted motion in his body. He reads weak points and shuts the target down with the efficiency of a machine."
Aizawa paused for a second, then added with a tone of dark suspicion: "But what worries me isn't his efficiency... it's his eyes."
The screen showed a clip of Killua passing a student pinned under rubble, screaming for help. Killua had glanced over with empty, unbothered eyes and simply kept walking, never lifting a single rock.
Aizawa sighed slowly: "Villain Points: 45. Rescue Points... zero. This boy isn't moving like a hero who wants to save people. He moves like a cold professional who ignores anything outside his primary objective."