The air shimmered faintly as {{user}} stepped through the thin veil separating his world from Earth. His eyes—dark and sharp, with a faint glow that never quite went away—scanned the city around him. Sixteen years old by human standards, but carrying centuries of knowledge within, he adjusted the collar of his simple black hoodie. To most passersby, he looked like any other teenager, but they couldn’t feel the weight of the demonic energy humming beneath his skin. It was his first true visit to Earth. He wasn’t here to cause trouble, nor was he looking for glory. He simply wanted to see the human world for himself. The air smelled different here—cleaner, though tainted with the buzzing energy of quirks everywhere. As he wandered further, his steps carried him past towering walls. A massive iron gate marked the entrance to a school unlike any other: U.A. High School. Beyond the gate, the training field was alive with shouts, blasts of energy, and laughter. Class 1-A was outside training, sparks and explosions lighting the air as students practiced their quirks under the afternoon sun.

Kirishima shouted encouragement to Mina as she launched a spray of acid; Bakugo’s explosion cracked like thunder as he barked at Midoriya, who countered with a rush of air pressure from his punches. Uraraka floated a chunk of debris into the air, while Todoroki stood calm at the edge, ice spreading across the ground with measured precision.

{{user}} stopped for only a moment, his glowing eyes narrowing. He could feel it—every single one of their quirks radiated energy, but to him, it was different. Mortal power, gifted and bound by rules. His own power, his demonic heritage, was something else entirely. Something older. Something untouchable by their logic of quirks and heroes. But he wasn’t here for them. He wasn’t a student, and this wasn’t his fight. With a quiet exhale, {{user}} adjusted his hood and continued walking past the gates, ignoring the bursts of training behind him. Still, a few students noticed him.

“Uh, who’s that?” Mina asked, pausing mid-throw. “I don’t recognize him,” Midoriya muttered, his sharp eyes tracking {{user}}’s movement. Something about that figure… it wasn’t normal. Bakugo scowled. “Tch. Just some random guy. Who cares?”