Rescue points weren't explained to the candidates.
Kurose Kuro and Hitoshi Shinso had only guessed they existed. How they were awarded, how to maximize them—none of that was clear.
But if they existed at all, then trying was better than doing nothing.
Kuro made his move.
He ran toward an injured examinee and called out, "Hey—do you need treatment?"
The boy's hands were scraped and bleeding lightly. Nothing serious.
Perfect.
Kuro stepped forward and pressed his hand against him.
Damage Replacement activated.
The other student froze, feeling a strange warmth spread through his body. When it faded, the pain was gone. His injuries had vanished as if they'd never existed.
"…Is this part of the exam?"
Kuro didn't answer.
He was focused on the fresh wounds now appearing on his own hands.
He clenched his teeth.
Minor injuries only. He had to be careful.
If he kept this up, he might be able to avoid a zero.
In the observation room, the instructors watched.
"A healing type?"
"That's rare."
"Interesting approach."
Nezu sipped his tea, eyes fixed on Kuro's movements.
"He's identified part of the scoring system, but not the criteria. So he's testing it in real time."
Others had figured out rescue points before.
But no one had focused on them exclusively.
"Too early to say anything," another voice said.
A panel slid open.
A red button was pressed.
"The real test," Nezu said calmly, "starts now."
Sirens blared.
Red lights flashed.
"Target locked. Commencing elimination."
The ground shook.
A zero-point robot emerged.
Then another.
And another.
Kuro wiped sweat from his forehead.
His arms were covered in small cuts now. He couldn't afford to heal everyone. He had to choose carefully—only those with injuries he could handle.
The rest, he guided to safer areas, leaving them for recovery teams.
He moved through the chaos like a field medic, transferring injuries, repositioning the wounded, trying to piece together how rescue points were calculated.
Then—
A cry.
Kuro turned.
Amid rubble and broken machines, Aoi Shindo sat on the ground, clutching her ankle.
Swollen.
Sprained.
Blood streaked her leg where gravel had torn her skin.
Kuro moved immediately.
"Can you stand?"
She winced as he pressed lightly on the injury.
"No…"
He didn't hesitate.
He pulled her up and supported her weight. "I'm getting you somewhere safe."
They had barely taken two steps—
The ground exploded.
A building wall collapsed nearby, and a wave of fleeing candidates rushed past them.
Aoi's eyes widened as her Quirk activated.
"Kuro—move! There's something—"
He saw it.
A massive robot, towering at least five stories high.
Its red sensor locked onto them.
"…It's targeting us."
Kuro shifted his grip and hoisted her onto his back.
"Guide me!"
Aoi focused, scanning ahead.
"Ten meters left—there's a path—"
Too late.
The robot's arm slammed into the ground.
The shockwave shattered the route ahead, debris blocking their escape.
No way forward.
And the machine closing in behind them.
Kuro's jaw tightened.
Was this really just a high school entrance exam?
"Aoi—this is a test," she said quickly. "Put me down. I can still—"
"No."
His voice was firm.
"If I drop you now, everything I've done so far is pointless."
He activated Damage Replacement.
Pain flared in his ankle.
The sprain transferred.
He staggered but stayed upright.
"Listen," he said. "On three, you run."
She stared at him.
"My Quirk's strong enough. I'll be fine."
He didn't give her time to argue.
"Three."
The robot advanced, each step shaking the ground.
Elsewhere, candidates had already retreated, calculating their scores, deciding it wasn't worth the risk.
"Two."
From a distance, someone muttered, "Are there still people in there?"
"Yeah. Two of them."
"…Unlucky."
No one saw Kuro step forward.
"One."
He set Aoi down.
The shadow of the robot swallowed him.
Kuro closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
Then opened them.
A white glow ignited in his vision.
His hand moved to the pistol in his pocket.
His father's voice echoed faintly in his mind.
"A Quirk weapon only works with your own power."
Kuro pulled it free and pressed the trigger.
A burst of white light tore through the air.
It struck the zero-point robot head-on.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then—
The machine split cleanly in half.
It collapsed with a thunderous crash.
In the monitoring room, silence broke into shock.
"That was—"
The dust settled.
Across multiple test zones, heads turned toward the impact.