The 0-pointer didn't stop.
It paused for only a fraction of a second—processing the shout, analyzing the obstacle.
Then it moved.
A low hum rattled the air, followed by the harsh whine of metal shifting. The massive arm began to rise. Gears rotated with a thunderous grind—krrr-chhhh—a sound that drilled into the chest like doom itself. Dust kicked up in spirals as its titanic limb cast a shadow over Kaminari.
It was going to smash him.
Crush him into the earth like a bug.
But Kaminari moved.
His instincts took over, body reacting before thought. The moment he saw the shift in the giant's shoulder—he dove.
The robotic arm crashed into the ground behind him, and the world shattered.
The shockwave slammed into his back like a freight train. Air fled his lungs as he was flung forward—tumbling, bouncing across the cracked earth like a ragdoll. He landed hard and didn't rise right away.
Rubble clattered around him. A faint ringing filled his ears—high, sharp, ceaseless. His limbs twitched, muscles half-spent. Blood trickled down from a fresh cut above his brow, slipping past his eye and pooling at his chin.
He tasted iron. Felt gravel in his teeth.
"Did I just get hit by a mountain…?"
His breath came in ragged gasps. Each one hurt more than the last.
And yet… he could still see.
Eyes blurry, body screaming, he turned his head just enough to see the 0-pointer begin to shift its attention again.
Not toward him.
Toward them.
The students.
Some were trying to crawl. Others were calling for help, voices weak, drowned out by the chaos. A few lay unmoving—trapped under rubble or frozen in terror. There was no time. No backup. No reinforcements coming down from the skies.
It was him or no one.
He tried to push himself up—but nothing worked.
His arms gave out. His legs refused to obey. His body had shut down, like a blown-out circuit.
Fear settled back into his bones like an old, unwelcome friend.
"Damn it…" he whispered. "I can't… move…"
A dark voice crept in, subtle but sharp.
"Just stay down."
"You tried. That's enough."
"Let someone else handle it…"
And for a moment… he nearly listened.
But then he saw her.
A student—young, shaking, her arm bent at an awful angle—trying to pull another free from beneath a pile of concrete. Her face, though streaked with dirt and tears, wasn't giving up.
That fire inside him sparked again.
"No…"
He clenched his teeth.
"No, dammit… not yet."
Not until he'd done everything.
With the last of his strength, he raised one hand—trembling, bruised—and pointed at his own chest.
And then…
He fired.
A jolt of electricity surged into his body—a self-inflicted bolt that ripped through his nerves like wildfire. His muscles seized. His back arched violently. Every fiber in his body screamed in protest.
But he didn't stop.
"GGGGGRRRRAHHHH!!"
The scream that left his throat wasn't human—it was primal. Pure will made sound.
His body collapsed for a second—then snapped back upright.
Kaminari's eyes flew open, glowing faintly with a familiar crackle. His fingers sparked to life. Lightning danced along his arms like serpents preparing to strike.
He stood.
Slowly. Painfully. Defiantly.
And then he ran.
Each step came easier than the last. Not because the pain had vanished—but because his resolve had drowned it out. With one swift motion, he extended both hands, targeting the 0-pointer's exposed arm—the one still raised from the last strike.
Electricity surged forward—blazing in a concentrated stream of pure voltage.
The bolt struck true.
Sparks exploded along the joint. The metal hissed and snapped—overloaded wires bursting from the limb in a shower of blue light. The massive arm jerked, frozen mid-motion. Servo systems locked.
It wasn't down, not yet.
But it was stunned.
And that was all he needed.
Kaminari turned, shouting with a voice that came from someplace deeper than fear:
"GO! NOW!! RUN! HELP THEM!! I'LL HOLD IT OFF!"
For a moment, the arena held its breath.
Then… they moved.
The students—torn, battered, bleeding—listened. They scrambled to their feet, eyes wide as they looked back at the lightning-clad figure between them and doom. Some helped others to stand. Some lifted rubble. Some simply ran.
But they moved.
Because he had stood.
Kaminari watched them with a weary smile, blood still trickling past his lips. And as the towering shadow of the 0-pointer loomed once more, he turned to face it.
His arms stretched outward, lightning beginning to rise again—this time wild, untamed, screaming for release.
"I told you…" he said with a smirk.
"…You could've stopped."
He narrowed his eyes, every inch of him lit by flickering bolts that made the very air hum—charged with tension, purpose, and power far beyond what his body was ever meant to hold.
His voice was hoarse, shaking, but resolute.
"Now…"
His fingers twitched.
"Be ready to face judgment."
The sky answered him.
"INDISCRIMINATE DISCHARGE…"
Power surged—through his skin, through the ground, through everything.
"1.3 MILLION VOLTS!!"
A scream of electricity ripped through the battlefield.
The light came first—blinding, white-hot, furious. It burst from Kaminari's body in a violent sphere, tendrils of raw lightning crackling outward like the arms of a furious storm god. The concrete beneath his feet cracked and burned. Sparks leapt from metal debris and nearby streetlamps exploded in a chain reaction of blinding flashes.
The blast wave slammed into the Zero Pointer.
The gargantuan machine reeled—its massive frame bucking as bolts of concentrated energy danced across its surface. The air around it warped and shimmered, the sheer force of the discharge overloading the robot's sensors, melting lesser circuits, and causing its optics to flicker violently between shades of red and white.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent—then BOOM.
A final arc of pure lightning struck the robot directly in its chest, the flash lighting up the sky and the ground alike, casting deep shadows behind every bystander. The robot didn't stagger, didn't fall—but it froze. Completely. Its limbs jerked once, twice—and then locked.
Servos groaned.
Gears clicked in protest.
Then… silence.
The Zero Pointer stood like a statue—one foot buried in the ground, arm half-raised, its optical lens dimming as its systems slipped into emergency lockdown. Every motor, every actuator, every single control node had been fried, jammed, or reset into fail-safe mode by the overwhelming shock.
Smoke hissed from its joints.
Its towering form loomed, unmoving.
Still.
Deadlocked.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then—
Kaminari Denki stood in the settling dust, a loopy grin plastered across his face as sparks danced harmlessly off his shoulders. His eyes were unfocused, distant, every neuron in his brain rattled loose by the sheer force of what he'd unleashed.
Around him, students blinked in stunned silence, their mouths open, their thoughts too slow to catch up.
Then the cheers came—ragged, uncertain at first, but growing into a tidal wave of joy and disbelief.
He'd done it.
He'd stopped the unstoppable.
The Zero Pointer—this monstrous final trial—stood immobilized before them, smoldering and inert.
And in the midst of it all, Kaminari giggled vacantly.
"Wheeeeeeeeee~..."
He'd done it.
He'd actually done it.
High above the battlefield, in the control chamber of U.A., teachers applauded. Vlad King punched the air. Present Mic whooped with unfiltered delight. Even Aizawa's ever-weary gaze lifted, if only slightly.
"Now that," Midnight said with a grin, "is what I call a breakthrough moment."
But then—the lights flickered.
Screens across the observation chamber stuttered, froze, then blinked red.
[CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR]
[UNAUTHORIZED REBOOT DETECTED]
[CONTROL LINK: TERMINATED]
The temperature in the room dropped like a stone.
"What…?" murmured Thirteen, fingers dancing across the keyboard.
Principal Nezu's voice, usually so chipper, dropped several octaves. "That's not possible… the override code—"
[AI CORE DISCONNECTED]
[BEHAVIORAL LOCK: DISENGAGED]
The screens lit up again—but this time, not with data. Live feeds from the battlefield flared to life, showing the Zero Pointer's optic lens pulsing violently, flickering from red to white and back. Then—
A whir. A clank. A screech like metal dragging against its own bones.
It moved.
First a twitch, then a full-body shudder.
And then it roared to life.
Its entire chassis surged with raw mechanical fury. No longer restrained by safety protocols, recognition systems, or civilian prioritization logic—it was blind. Mad. Pure algorithmic violence, seeking the path of least resistance. And that path… was destruction.
The blast of motion cracked through the air, sending shockwaves that rattled windows even at their altitude.
Kratos' eyes narrowed, watching as the Zero Pointer—massive and reeling—tore through the cityscape like a hammer through rotted wood.
At his belt, Mimir's carved face turned toward the chaos below, the glow of his Bifrost eyes flickering with unease. "That's no fallback routine," he said quietly. "It's gone rogue. Whatever the kid's quirk did, it wiped more than just its footing."
A sharp ping! broke through the air. Nezu's voice followed, calm but taut with urgency. "Kratos. Mimir. The Zero Pointer's control systems have failed. AI core is unresponsive. The unit is on a full rampage. We've lost all command."
Kratos said nothing. His eyes stayed locked on the destruction below—buildings collapsing, debris spraying like blood from a fresh wound, students scattering in panic.
Nezu continued, more carefully now. "We need to contain it. Before it wreaks havoc to other areas, or worse casualty. Other Teachers are currently on their way to Battle Arena C, but it will take about 1 minute earliest. We can't allow that robot to cause any harm to the children."
Still silent, Kratos stepped forward.
He didn't nod. Didn't grunt. Didn't speak.
He chose.
Mimir's eyes narrowed as he watched the Zero Pointer tear through another city block, its massive frame crashing through reinforced walls like they were parchment. His voice, stripped of mirth, rang low.
"Well... that's no entrance exam anymore. That thing's gone full berserker."
Kratos didn't speak. But he gave a single nod—slow, deliberate.
Then… he stayed still.
Mimir blinked. "Eh? Not that I'm complainin', but uh—shouldn't you be jumpin' down to rip its head off by now?"
No answer. The God of War remained where he was, planted like a monolith atop the tower, eyes fixed on the smoke-choked skyline.
And then Mimir heard it.
A distant groan of twisted steel. The thundercrack of another building falling. The shrill screech of failing servos. All growing louder.
Closer.
Mimir's carved brow furrowed, realization dawning like stormlight across the sea.
"…Oh."
The Zero Pointer was coming to them.