Took me a bit to get home after that written part. The physical would be tomorrow but if it would be the same like today, then it was ridiculous. 

The moment I walked through the front door of our home, I was greeted by the familiar hum of our ridiculously advanced security system. It scanned me in about half a second, recognizing my DNA, voice, and probably the number of hairs on my head, before the doors unlocked with a soft click. I stepped inside our mansion—more fortress than home, really—and let out a long sigh of relief. The day was finally over.

All for One: Izuku, welcome back.

Dad's voice echoed from the living room, that deep, smooth tone that always carried a mix of authority and affection. I could hear the faint hum of the TV—probably one of his security feeds or some villain documentary he found amusing.

I walked in, and there he was, lounging on the enormous, custom-made sofa that could probably seat a small army. In front of him, a holographic screen displayed various news channels, all muted, while another screen scrolled through some kind of data analysis. Classic Dad—always multitasking.

Me: Hey, Dad. You'll never guess how ridiculous the written exam was.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he paused whatever analysis he was doing. With a wave of his hand, the screens vanished, and his full attention turned to me.

All for One: Oh? Do tell. I could use a good laugh.

I plopped down on the other end of the sofa, kicking off my shoes and sinking into the cushions. It was hard not to laugh just thinking about it.

Me: Where do I even start? They had questions that made no sense at all. I mean, one of them literally asked about a hero sliding on a frictionless surface. Who comes up with this stuff? It was like they were trying to see how fast they could make our brains explode.

Dad chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that always made me smile. He had this way of laughing that made everything seem funnier than it was, like he was in on some cosmic joke that only he understood.

All for One: Ah, yes. Heroes and their absurd scenarios. They spend so much time concocting these elaborate hypotheticals, it's no wonder they can't focus on the real world. I suppose they think it prepares them for anything, but really, it just proves how detached they are from reality.

Me: Exactly! They're so obsessed with these ridiculous "what if" situations that they forget how things actually work. It's like they're training themselves to think in the most convoluted ways possible. No wonder they can't catch you, Dad. You'd have to be dumber than a sack of rocks to fall for some of their logic traps.

He laughed again, this time louder, and I couldn't help but join in. There was something so satisfying about knowing that the same people who spent their days chasing after villains like Dad were stumped by their own overly complex exams.

All for One: It's no surprise that heroes struggle so much. They rely too much on their quirks, thinking that brute force and flashy powers are the answer to everything. Meanwhile, we villains—well, we have to use our brains. We outthink them at every turn because we understand that not every problem can be solved with muscle alone.

Me: You should've seen their faces, Dad. Most of them looked like they were about to pass out, just trying to figure out which formula to use. And then there was this one pro hero, Eraser Head—he actually came over to me when I finished early, like he was expecting me to start crying because the exam was so hard.

Dad shook his head, his smile growing wider.

All for One: Eraser Head... the one with the ability to cancel quirks. A fitting name, really. He's so focused on nullifying powers that he forgets some of the best assets are right here. [A/N:: He taps his temple while talking] Brains over brawn, always. It's the reason why we remain one step ahead. They keep trying to beat us with sheer force, but they don't realize that strength means nothing without strategy.

Me: And that's why they'll never win, isn't it? Because while they're busy bulking up and practicing their poses for the cameras, we're thinking three steps ahead. Planning, calculating, and making sure they can't predict our next move.

He nodded, his expression thoughtful now.

All for One: Precisely. It's a game of chess, and we've been playing it far longer than they have. Heroes might be good at throwing punches, but they lack the subtlety and foresight that makes a true strategist. That's where we have the advantage. Every move they make is reactionary, while ours are deliberate, calculated long before they even suspect.

I grinned, feeling a swell of pride. Dad had been playing this game for years, outwitting and outmaneuvering everyone who dared to challenge him. And now, here I was, ready to follow in his footsteps—though, admittedly, on a slightly different path.

Me: You know, if UA's written exam is any indication, I'm not worried about becoming a hero. I'll outsmart them all. It'll be like taking candy from a baby. Except the baby is an entire institution filled with people who think they can solve everything by punching it.

Dad laughed again, a sound that filled the room and made the walls practically vibrate.

All for One: I have no doubt you will, Izuku. Just remember, heroes may have their quirks, but you have something far more valuable—a mind capable of outthinking them all. And that, my son, is a power they'll never be able to take away.

There was something almost comforting about knowing that we were different from the rest—smarter, sharper, always two steps ahead. The world saw Dad as a villain, but to me, he was a genius, a strategist who had built an empire by outsmarting everyone who tried to stand in his way.

And as for me? Well, I was ready to show UA exactly what that kind of intelligence could do.

Me: You know, Dad, if the rest of this hero training stuff is as ridiculous as the exam, we're in for some serious entertainment. I can't wait to see what kind of nonsense they throw at me next.

All for One: And I can't wait to hear all about it. Just remember, Izuku—whatever happens, always keep your wits about you. They'll be expecting brute force, not brilliance. And that's where you'll surprise them.

Me: Trust me, Dad. By the time I'm done with them, they'll be the ones needing strategy lessons. Maybe I'll even offer tutoring sessions. For a price, of course.

Dad chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

All for One: Now, that's my boy.