The second obstacle unfolded ahead, a suspended maze carved out of empty space.
Where solid ground should have been, only scattered platforms remained, each one linked by narrow steel cables. A single misstep wouldn't just cost balance. It would cost time.
Izuku didn't hesitate.
"Midoriya hits the second obstacle first!" Present Mic's voice rang out across the stadium. "Let's see how he handles it!"
He launched himself forward.
His shoes struck the first platform with a sharp, controlled impact. No stumble. No pause. He adjusted instantly, shifting his weight and pushing off again. His movements settled into a clean rhythm. Jump. Land. Drive forward.
Each motion fed the next.
By the time the pack reached the wires, Izuku was already nearing the far side.
"He's through! Midoriya clears it in first—and he's pulled even further ahead!"
Behind him, Shoto Todoroki's gaze sharpened. Frost spread beneath his feet, freezing over the cable in a thin, controlled layer. He stepped onto it and slid forward, sacrificing stability for speed.
"Tch."
A sharp explosion cut through the air.
Katsuki Bakugo surged overhead, propelled by bursts of nitroglycerin-like blasts from his palms. Smoke trailed behind him as he cleared the gap in a single aggressive push.
"Move!"
"He just took second!" Present Mic shouted. "Bakugo surges ahead of Todoroki!"
Izuku didn't turn. Didn't check. The race only moved forward.
The final obstacle came into view.
A wide stretch of ground, deceptively calm, dotted with small metal caps. Beneath each one, a mine waited to trigger.
"Our leader's reached the minefield!" Present Mic continued. "They won't injure you, but they will slow you down if you panic!"
"That depends," Shota Aizawa said from the sidelines, arms loosely folded.
Izuku stopped at the edge.
For a moment, the gap behind him began to close.
"What's he doing?" Present Mic said, voice rising. "Midoriya's hesitating—Bakugo and Todoroki are almost on him!"
Izuku drew in a steady breath.
His feet began to move in quick, controlled taps against the ground. Testing. Measuring. Setting a rhythm. His eyes traced the field ahead, calculating spacing, timing, the smallest margins.
Then—
He moved.
The burst of speed was immediate. Clean. Decisive.
His steps skimmed the surface, too light and too fast for the mines to properly react. A click sounded beneath one foot, but he was already gone, momentum carrying him beyond the trigger.
"Wait—he's running straight through it?!"
The tracking cameras struggled to keep up, forced to pan faster just to hold him in frame.
"He's not slowing down! Midoriya's blasting through the minefield!"
Behind him, Todoroki adjusted. Ice spread outward from his feet, forming a narrow, glistening path across the field. He stepped onto it and slid forward, bypassing most of the triggers entirely.
Bakugo chose a different answer.
Explosions erupted in rapid succession, each blast driving him forward in sharp, violent bursts. The ground behind him flared with pink smoke and shockwaves as he powered through without hesitation.
"They're all pushing hard now!" Present Mic called out. "Class 1-A is dominating the front!"
"They're competing," Aizawa replied evenly. "That's all it is."
The finish line came into view.
"One hundred meters left! Who's taking it—?!"
Izuku didn't break stride.
He crossed the line first.
Momentum carried him several steps past it before he slowed, breath coming hard, chest rising and falling as the roar of the crowd crashed over him like a wave.
"I made it…" he murmured, then lifted his head, voice steady despite the strain. "I'm first."
The stadium erupted.
Cheers rolled through the stands, loud enough to shake the air itself.
Among the spectators, All Might pressed his hands together, relief softening his expression.
One by one, the remaining students crossed the finish line. Some staggered. Some pushed through on sheer will. All of them chased the same cutoff.
Only forty-two would advance.
"For those who didn't make it… better luck next time," Midnight announced, her tone firm, but not without sympathy. "The preliminary round ends here."
A ripple of reaction spread through the crowd as the results settled in.
Midnight lifted her whip slightly, drawing attention back to the field.
"Now then," she said, a hint of anticipation in her voice, "let's move on to the next event."
Above them, the massive screen flickered to life. Symbols spun, cycling through possibilities before slowing… then stopping.
"The Cavalry Battle."
Excitement stirred across the stadium, quiet at first, then building into something louder.