Nightmare

5

Mark smirked, overhearing his peers still grumbling about the entrance exam as he, Amy, and Jason made their way to class. Their complaints filled the air, but he wasn’t the least bit sympathetic. It wasn’t like the entrance exams from previous years. Mark had designed this one himself, replacing the usual faux villains with something far more dangerous—actual American battle droid models from the dark ages, 175 years ago. Or, as Amy and Jason liked to call it, the quirk wars.

The only real difference from the original models was Nezu and the teachers’ insistence on using non-lethal loadouts. Of course, Mark had taken it a step further by upgrading the A.I., making these metal monsters even more ruthless. They were no longer just mechanical soldiers; they were near-sentient killing machines, programmed to hunt and neutralize quirked individuals.

The results spoke for themselves. This year, the first-year classes were at two-thirds capacity. Many of the students walked around with fresh scars—reminders of the real threat they’d faced in the exam. Killer robot soldiers meant to annihilate quirked individuals had given them a taste of what real combat felt like, and it was a lot less forgiving than they’d expected. Oh, how society had come full circle.

Jason scoffed, shaking his head. “Wimps. They struggled against the Tinnies me and Amy took down with nothing but our hands. Couldn’t even do half of what we did, and we didn’t have our quirks to save us.”

Amy nodded, a grin spreading across her face. “Yeah, we had shotguns and knives, sure, but it was still nothing compared to what we’ve faced before. They could hardly handle the Tinnies. They don’t know what real combat is.”

Mark chuckled darkly. “They now face us next,” he said, a touch of anticipation in his voice. “The real test begins now.”

"The best part about this assignment," Amy added with a wink, "is that we get to watch them squirm when they realize what real fighters are like."

They arrived at the new classroom labeled 1-X. As they entered, they saw Nezu already sitting at the desk, his small form perched with his usual gleam of quiet amusement.

"Welcome to my class," Nezu greeted them, his voice both welcoming and subtly menacing. It was clear he wasn’t just some ordinary teacher. He knew exactly what he was dealing with, and he seemed thrilled about it.

Mark’s smirk deepened as he exchanged glances with Amy and Jason. This was only the beginning. The exams had been just the warm-up. Now, the real challenge would begin.

-----

Class 1-A groaned as they slumped at their desks, still haunted by memories of the entrance exam.

"Man, what were those things? They were like something straight out of a horror movie about killer robots," one student muttered, shuddering at the thought.

"They could even see me!" Toru exclaimed, her voice trembling. "I'm supposed to be invisible, but they tracked me like it was nothing."

Aizawa, sitting at the front of the room with his ever-present sleeping bag draped over his shoulders, finally broke the chatter. "Alright, that's enough. Quiet down, everyone. Your teaching assistant will be arriving any moment now."

The classroom door creaked open, and a tall, imposing figure stepped inside. Jason, clad in a worn black combat suit, surveyed the students with a piercing gaze. His very presence demanded attention.

"So, these are the students," he said with a faint sneer. "Not much to look at."

He crossed his arms and added, "Come with me. We’re testing your combat potential."

"But there’s supposed to be an assembly today!" protested a student.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. "Does it look like I care? You have five minutes to get changed into your gym uniforms. If you’re not ready by then, you’ll still join the exercise—even if that means coming as you are. Move it!"