BNHA: Lioren

No one could say for certain how it all began.

Some traced the origins of quirks to the "Luminescent Baby" born in Qing Qing City, China—an infant whose body emitted a soft glow without any scientific explanation. That event was the first recorded instance of a superhuman ability, but even then, the world had no idea what it was witnessing. Some thought it was a strange mutation, an isolated phenomenon, or a freak accident of genetics.

But then more cases appeared.

Abilities surfaced in seemingly random individuals across the world, each manifesting differently. Some could breathe fire. Others could move objects with their minds. A few even displayed inhuman strength and resilience. At first, these incidents were rare, scattered like anomalies that defied reason. Yet, as the decades passed, the frequency of such abilities increased exponentially. What began as isolated miracles soon became a genetic certainty.

By the time the world truly understood what was happening, it was already too late.

The age of quirks had arrived.

Governments scrambled to keep up. Society, once built on predictable human limits, was thrown into chaos. Laws had to be rewritten. Entire industries collapsed while new ones rose in their place. People who had once been ordinary suddenly found themselves with the power to reshape the world around them, and not all of them had noble intentions. The balance of power shifted overnight, and with it, the foundation of civilization itself.

But humanity adapted, as it always did.

The rise of quirks led to the rise of heroes and villains—figures who embodied the extremes of power. To prevent complete societal collapse, governments worldwide sanctioned the formation of hero organizations, licensing those with abilities to use their quirks for the good of the people. Heroes became more than just enforcers of justice; they became celebrities, icons, and the beating heart of the new world order.

However, despite all the progress made in understanding quirks, mysteries still remained.

There were those who defied classification, possessing abilities that couldn't be explained by the established categories of emitter, transformation, and mutant. Others displayed quirks so potent they shattered the limits of what should have been possible. And then, there were those who had nothing—quirkless individuals, left behind in an era that no longer had a place for them.

In a world where power dictated status, those without quirks were considered unlucky. Weak. Unnecessary.

Leon Lioren knew this better than anyone.

The classroom smelled faintly of old paper, chalk dust, and the artificial lemon scent of disinfectant. Sunlight streamed in through the large windows, casting soft shadows across the neatly arranged desks. Outside, the muffled sounds of children playing on the school grounds could be heard—laughter, shouting, the occasional thud of a ball against the pavement.

Inside, the atmosphere was far more controlled.

"—and that's why heroes are so important!"

The teacher, a woman with a bright smile and an enthusiasm that felt a little too rehearsed, clapped her hands together. She stood at the front of the room, beside a holographic display projecting images of famous heroes mid-action. The children seated at their desks stared up at the screen with wide-eyed fascination, soaking in every word.

All except one.

Leon sat at the far end of the room, by the window.

The sun felt warm against his skin, but he barely noticed. His small hands rested on the desk, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against the wood. His posture was relaxed, but his expression was blank—his gaze distant, unfocused.

He wasn't paying attention to the lesson.

He couldn't.

Because floating just a few inches away from his face, invisible to everyone else, was something that shouldn't exist.

A translucent panel of light, its edges softly pulsing, hovered in the air before him. The text displayed on it was simple, yet the meaning behind it was anything but.

[The Skill, Class Wheel, has Awakened.]

The moment he read the words, something shifted within him.

It was subtle at first—like a small breath of wind stirring stagnant air. Then, in an instant, a pulse of energy rushed through his body, sharp and unfamiliar. It wasn't painful, nor was it overwhelming. But it was there, undeniable, like the hum of static electricity just before a storm.

Leon's fingers twitched slightly.

His heart beat once, twice—then settled into a steady rhythm.

He exhaled slowly.

No one else noticed anything.

The other children were still engrossed in the lesson, their attention locked onto the moving images of heroes fighting villains. The teacher continued speaking, oblivious to the fact that something extraordinary had just happened in her classroom.

Leon, however, was very aware.

His gaze flicked to the floating panel once more, his mind racing.

This wasn't a quirk. He was sure of that.

From the moment he was born, he had been tested like every other child. The doctors had examined him, checked his joints, scanned his DNA, and waited for any signs of a quirk manifesting. But the results had always been the same.

Negative.

Leon Lioren was quirkless.

So then... what was this?

A skill? A system? Some kind of ability that shouldn't exist in this world?

He had no answers.

But one thing was certain.

Something inside him had changed.

And this was only the beginning.

Leon spent the rest of the school day in a haze, barely registering the lessons, the chatter of his classmates, or the occasional calls of his name from the teacher. The revelation from earlier still lingered in his mind, stubborn and unshakable, like a whisper that refused to fade.

A system. A skill. Something.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen, and the implications of it sent a shiver down his spine.

By all accounts, Leon Lioren was supposed to be quirkless.

It wasn't even up for debate—his parents had taken him for testing when he was younger, just like every other child. A doctor had pressed gentle fingers against his pinky toe, inspected his bones, and after a few moments of silence, had given them the answer they had dreaded.

He lacked the extra joint.

A sign, they said. A certainty, they said.

Without it, he would never develop a quirk.

And yet, there had always been stories.

Outliers. Cases where individuals who had been deemed quirkless suddenly awakened abilities later in life. Science had no explanation for these anomalies—some claimed they were mutations, others theorized they were quirks that had been dormant for years before activation. Whatever the truth was, the fact remained: it had happened before.

So Leon had clung to that hope.

Even when he was told to accept his fate. Even when he saw the way other children with quirks looked at him, with a mix of pity and condescension. Even when he felt himself slipping further behind in a world that seemed determined to leave him in the dust.

He had never given up.

And now—

Now, something had changed.

It wasn't a quirk. He knew that much. The energy he had felt earlier, the rush of something powerful awakening inside him, was nothing like the documented cases of quirk activation. And yet, whatever had appeared before him—this [Class Wheel]—was undeniably real.

If it wasn't a quirk…

Could it be something even better?

The school day came to an end, and Leon walked home alone.

The streets were still lively despite the setting sun. Children played on the sidewalks, their laughter carrying in the breeze. Cars rumbled down the road, the scent of street food drifting from a nearby stall where a vendor was grilling skewers. Neon signs flickered to life as businesses prepared for the evening crowd.

Leon barely noticed any of it.

He wasn't in the mood to linger.

The moment he stepped inside his house, he closed the door behind him, slipped off his shoes, and headed straight to his room. The lights were off, but the faint glow of his desk lamp illuminated the small spac.

He exhaled.

Then, finally, he sat down and focused.

The panel had appeared on its own before.

Would it happen again?

He had barely finished the thought when, as if responding to his will, the same translucent screen flickered into existence before him.

[The Skill, Class Wheel, has Awakened.]

His fingers curled slightly.

There was no doubt about it. It wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't some fever dream. This was real.

And if this was real…

Then it was time to test it.

Taking a slow breath, Leon focused inward.

He didn't know what he was expecting—perhaps a sensation similar to before, a pulse of energy, a shift within his body. And sure enough, the moment he concentrated on his skill, he felt it.

That energy.

Mana.

The word surfaced in his mind instinctively.

Mana—it was different from the energy quirks used. Unlike quirks, which were genetic, this felt… limitless. It thrummed beneath his skin, flowing through his veins like a quiet current, waiting to be shaped.

For the first time in his life, Leon felt power at his fingertips.

It was faint. Unrefined. But it was there.

Then, suddenly—

A golden glow materialized before him.

A circular wheel, ornate and shimmering, appeared in the air. Its edges were gilded, carved with intricate symbols that pulsed faintly. At its center was a four-way cross, dividing the wheel into four distinct sections. Each slot bore a crest, representing a different class.

Slot 1: Damage Dealer (Melee).

A lightly armored figure with a spear and sword crossed behind him.

Slot 2: Mage.

A robed figure holding a staff and an open book.

Slot 3: Tank.

A heavily armored figure wielding a tower shield, with an axe strapped to his back.

Slot 4: Assassin.

A hooded figure dual-wielding curved daggers, crouched and ready to strike.

Leon stared, mesmerized.

This… This was his power?

Four choices. Four paths.

His gaze flicked to the topmost slot—the Damage Dealer.

It felt right.

Instinctively, he reached forward. His fingers brushed against the golden rim of the wheel, and in that instant—

The world shifted.

Heat surged through his body, not burning, but invigorating. His muscles tensed, then relaxed, as if they had been reforged from within. His posture changed, subtly but noticeably—his stance felt firmer, his limbs lighter, more attuned to movement.

Then came something even stranger.

His body wasn't just reacting—it was adapting.

His hands, once small and untrained, now carried a faint, residual strength. His breathing felt more controlled, his balance more refined. It wasn't overwhelming, nor was it an instant transformation into something unrecognizable.

But he could feel it.

The difference.

And with it came knowledge.

Words flooded his mind—terms, techniques, information that wasn't there before but now felt as natural as breathing. The basic stances, the forms, the way to grip a weapon, the way to move in combat. It wasn't perfect, not yet, but the foundation had been set.

Then, finally—

[You have acquired the skills: Quick Slash and Combat Instincts.]

Leon's breath hitched.

His fingers twitched.

He clenched his fists once, twice, testing the way they moved. There was something new in them now, something precise. Something sharper.

His heart pounded.

He had done it.

It wasn't a quirk.

It was something else. Something better.

And this was only the beginning.