The horn's echo died, leaving only the simulated sounds of distant warfare and Mateo's thundering heartbeat. He settled into his stance—feet planted, knees bent, hands raised. Every muscle coiled with purpose. This was it. Everything he'd trained for, everything he'd sacrificed. No quirks. No shortcuts. Just skill, determination, and the belief that he could prove himself through sheer will.
Alex stood fifteen feet away, arms folded, weight shifted to one hip like she was waiting for a bus. The casual posture made Mateo's jaw clench. Was she seriously not even going to bother with a fighting stance?
Good, he thought, studying her for any tell—a twitch, a glow, anything that might reveal her quirk. Overconfidence is a weakness I can exploit.
But Alex revealed nothing except that infuriating grin, clearly waiting for him to make the first move.
Fine. He'd give her what she wanted.
Mateo exploded forward, feinting left before driving a vicious right hook toward her jaw. Speed and deception—exactly what Arx had drilled into him during those grueling months of training.
Alex's grin widened. She read through his fake like it was written in crayon, raising her forearm to block with fluid precision. No hesitation, no wasted movement. Mateo immediately pivoted, driving his left leg forward in a powerful kick aimed at her ribs.
She sidestepped before his leg even reached her.
How—?
Frustration spiked through him as he twisted into another combination—swift jab, roundhouse kick. Alex blocked both with that same effortless grace, then countered with two lightning-fast punches. Mateo barely managed to shield his face, the impacts jarring his forearms.
Ten seconds in, and she still hadn't used her quirk. Why? Was she toying with him?
I refuse to be underestimated.
Anger fueled his next assault—a furious barrage of strikes that should have overwhelmed any normal opponent. But Alex wasn't normal. No matter how fast or unpredictable his attacks, she was always one step ahead. Blocking, weaving, finding moments to land precise counters that rattled his bones.
A full minute passed without either landing a clean hit. Mateo's breathing grew labored, sweat stinging his eyes. Meanwhile, Alex had barely broken a sweat. Her technique was flawless.
She's trained under someone like Arx, he realized. Maybe better.
The thought only stoked his fury. With a growl, he launched himself forward, putting everything into a straight punch that would end this. He could see his fist cutting through the air, aimed perfectly at her face—
Alex raised her palm, fingers splayed wide.
Something invisible slammed into Mateo like a freight train. The force hurled him backward through the air, his body tumbling helplessly before crashing to the ground fifteen feet away. Dust billowed around him as he skidded to a stop, ribs screaming in protest.
That's her quirk. He scrambled to his feet, wiping dirt and blood from his split lip. Not super strength—she never touched me. Not air manipulation either—no wind.
Telekinesis, maybe? Some kind of force projection?
Before he could fully process the revelation, that invisible grip seized him again. This time he wasn't being pushed away—he was being yanked toward her. Alex's hand had clenched into a tight fist, drawing him forward as a predatory smile spread across her face.
Mateo found himself directly in front of her, helpless as her other fist drove into his solar plexus with surgical precision.
The world went white, then black. Pain exploded through his core in waves of liquid fire. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, fighting to breathe as tears blurred his vision. The taste of copper filled his mouth.
Can't give up. Not now. Not after everything.
"Don't you have a quirk?" Alex's voice cut through his agony, but something had changed. The enthusiasm was draining away, replaced by something worse than mockery. "Why aren't you fighting back?"
Annoyance. She wasn't pleased with her dominance—she was irritated that he wasn't providing a real challenge.
Red tinged Mateo's vision. He launched himself at her, hoping his feigned weakness had lulled her into complacency. Instead, she gave him a bored look and—impossibly—yawned.
She actually yawned as she flicked her hand upward.
The force that hit him this time was massive. Mateo shot skyward at terrifying speed, the arena shrinking below him as he rocketed toward the twisted remains of a half-collapsed building. His stomach dropped as he calculated the trajectory.
I'm going to hit that wall. That's going to shatter bones.
He couldn't lose like this. Not when he'd sacrificed so much, trained so hard, believed so completely that willpower and skill could overcome anything. But the gap between them was undeniable. She matched him physically, and her quirk was overwhelming.
Unless he used his own.
The thought made his skin crawl. He'd rejected that power for years, built his entire identity around not needing it. It was how he'd defeated Brett, and he hated himself for it. The disgusting, alien thing that lived under his skin—the thing that had saved him when Alec—
No. Not now.
But his trajectory wasn't slowing. Without his quirk, this was the end.
He stretched his arms outward, desperately willing the slime to emerge. His ascent continued, the building wall growing larger, more detailed. Come on, you piece of shit. Work.
Then he felt it—something stirring beneath his skin like a living thing awakening. The sensation grew stronger, his pores expanding as pressure built under his flesh until he thought he might burst.
Everything released at once.
Massive tendrils of vibrant green slime erupted from both arms, stretching to impossible lengths until they slapped against nearby walls with wet, organic sounds. The slime pulsed with warmth, responding to his fear, his desperation. It felt alive in a way that made his stomach turn.
He could feel the tension building as his momentum carried him backward. The slime stretched thinner, the tension becoming excruciating. For a terrifying moment, he thought it would snap, sending him crashing into the concrete.
Then he stopped. Just as his back was about to hit the wall, the taut slime absorbed the last of his motion.
But physics demanded payment.
In an instant, Mateo was catapulted forward, flying faster than Alex had launched him. Saliva streamed past his face as he shot through the air like a bullet, eyes burning from the rushing wind.
And he was hurtling directly at his opponent.
Alex's savage grin widened, her pupils dilated with genuine excitement for the first time. "I knew you were holding back!" she shouted, raising her arm. "Why'd you wait until now to fight back? Thought you could beat me without your quirk? Afraid of hurting a girl?"
He couldn't respond as he rocketed toward her, slime retracting into his forearms. She was going to push—he knew it with absolute certainty. She wouldn't dodge. Alex Velez would meet his challenge head-on.
Her fingers closed into a fist.
An invisible wall of force slammed into him, battling his momentum in a war of physics. For a suspended moment, they were eye to eye, Mateo trapped in strange stasis as her power fought his inertia. Her lips curled into a wolfish smile, and despite everything, her fierce determination kindled something in him.
But Alex was stronger. The equation resolved, and he went flying backward—not as far as before, but enough to leave him battered and gasping.
Before he could recover, new pressure materialized, pushing him down into the concrete. Alex stood over him, using her quirk to pin him like an insect. His bones creaked under the force, chest constricting as he struggled to breathe.
"I told you I would win!" Alex declared, but there was something hollow in her triumph. Disappointment flickered behind her eyes.
Mateo's vision darkened at the edges. Even with his quirk, even with all his training and determination, he couldn't overcome her power. Was he simply that outmatched?
It saved me back then, he thought as consciousness slipped away. It saved me again. I hate it.
The last thing he heard was Commander Reeves' voice echoing through the arena: "That is enough. Winner: Alex Velez."