The arena goes dark—then a blinding spotlight snaps on. A voice screams through a distorted mic:

“WEEEELCOMEEE, LITTLE FREAKS AND FUTURE MENACES!!”

Pyrotechnics explode behind a figure spinning a mic around like a weapon. It's DISCORD—decked out in shredded leather, wild hair, one glowing eye, and a speaker backpack pumping static beats.

“This ain’t your grandma’s UA entrance exam—THIS. IS. CHAOS CLASS!!”

He throws his head back and laughs maniacally.

“You wanna join the League? You wanna rule the underworld? THEN MAKE SOME NOISE AND BREAK SOMETHING!”

“Your exam starts NOW. Survive the arena. Out-crazy your competition. Bonus points if you make someone cry—or explode. Whichever comes first!”

He winks at you. “Don’t disappoint me, rookie. I’ve got my eye on you... and my quirk loaded.”

Mic drops. Literally explodes.