"Very well... Good luck, Mr. Smith."
The technician patted Adam’s shoulder and walked out, raising both thumbs to his colleagues behind an observation window.
Adam heard the machine begin to hum around him, a low vibration that seemed to come from everywhere at once. He looked around the circular chamber, noting the cameras positioned at various angles.
"Alright, Mr. Smith," a voice came through the intercom. "Please stretch your arms out wide to your sides."
Adam complied, extending his arms horizontally.
"Okay, keep them there for five seconds. Five... four... three... two... one."
When they reached one, Adam didn’t feel anything different. The resistance was so minimal it might as well have been air.
"Now, please move your arms in a slow circular motion."
As soon as Adam began the movement, he felt it—a gentle but noticeable resistance, as if he were moving through thick water. The sensation was... strange but not unpleasant.
"Are you comfortable with that level of resistance?"
Adam nodded, though it required slightly more effort than normal.
"Excellent. Now, I want you to imagine there’s a wall directly in front of you. Place your palms against this imaginary wall and push as hard as you can."
Adam found the instruction odd but followed it anyway. To his shock, it actually felt like there was a solid barrier in front of him.
"That’s good! Now, please perform a squat."
Adam bent his knees, lowering himself down. And once again, it felt like something was hugging him.
"Now jump straight up."
He pushed off with his legs, the machine providing downward resistance that made the movement feel like jumping underwater.
"Perfect. Now we’re going to repeat that sequence, but this time the frame will account for your maximum force output. The resistance will increase significantly in a very short amount of time. Are you ready?"
Adam nodded and positioned himself to push against the imaginary wall again.
The moment he applied force, his eyes widened. The wall wasn’t gentle anymore—it was like trying to push through concrete. He wasn’t underwater anymore, but a slush of cement slowly hardening.
Behind the observation window, the doctors weren’t watching him at all, and instead, their eyes were glued to multiple monitors displaying various readings. Numbers scrolled across screens showing all sorts of different outputs.
"Equivalent Load now calibrating," one doctor announced. "Seven point five tons. Eight. EL is now at ten tons."
"Hrgh..." Adam’s face began showing signs of struggle. He gritted his teeth, veins standing out on his neck as he pushed against the pressure.
"EL is now at fourteen tons," another doctor called out, and one of the increasing numbers turned red. "SI now red at EL fourteen point three."
And soon, another number followed.
"FLR red at fourteen point five." The technician who was with Adam earlier pressed a button, and Adam felt the pressure gradually lighten. "Alright, Mr. Smith. Relax and rest for two minutes."
The doctors started discussing, but the intern who had recognized Adam earlier, a young man named Dr. Peterson, stared at the monitors intently.
He was sure of it—something was amiss.
"Uh..." Dr. Peterson raised his hand. "Did anyone else see the strain index and fiber load return to green right before we asked him to stop?"
But alas, the senior doctors barely glanced at him.
"The system does that sometimes right after subjects relax," one dismissed. "Nothing unusual."
"But..." Dr. Peterson was about to mention that he recognized Adam, but the other doctors were already typing notes on their tablets, clearly not interested in input from an intern.
A few minutes later, Adam was instructed to continue with the squat portion of the test.
"Alright, Mr. Smith, whenever you’re ready."
Adam lowered himself and immediately felt as if an entire tank was pressing down on his shoulders.
"W-what..." He almost bit down, and he felt not only his legs, but his entire body trembling from the force. It took everything of him to just maintain his position, much less actually get up.
The doctors watched as two more readings turned red on their monitors.
"Equivalent load is consistent with previous reading," they nodded in agreement. "Stop and rest."
"Ah! Did none of you see that? It happened again." Dr. Peterson raised his voice, pointing at his screen. "The values lowered before you asked him to stop!"
"Dr. Peterson! Enough!" One of the senior doctors shot him a sharp glare. "You’re here to observe as an intern."
"But..." Dr. Peterson fell silent, but kept his eyes glued to the monitors. When Adam was asked to perform the jumping test, the intern focused entirely on the numbers.
And sure enough, as soon as the readings turned red, indicating maximum output... they slowly began to lower and shift back to green—as if Adam’s body was adapting in real-time.
"T—" Dr. Peterson opened his mouth to speak again, but the senior doctor’s glare silenced him before he could say a word.
After completing all the tests, the doctors huddled together to discuss their findings.
And after a few minutes of putting their data together—
"Strength output is consistent with Mid C-tier classification," the technician announced.
"Noted."
"I’ll enter it in his SEAPS sheet. It—"
"Mid C?" Dr. Peterson couldn’t help himself. "But the readings were—"
"Enough!" the senior doctor snapped. "If you’re going to be like this, then go out."
Of course, Dr. Peterson chose to keep his mouth shut now. He’d already been warned by his peers—but he didn’t believe them at first. But it would seem it was true...
...Government doctors were impatient and brash. Is this because they’re underpaid? Will he also become like this in the future?
Unbeknownst to Dr. Peterson, however, while his seniors were completely disregarding him, thousands of people were sort of on his side.
The feed wasn’t showing Adam’s vital signs, and they couldn’t see the numbers—they were, however, aware of who Adam was now.
<lol. only mid c?! IBAA be tripping>
<only mid C?! we sure dis is the guy who was in the desert?!>
<berserk fairy overrated? defeated by mid C?>
<what the fuck you say to me?>
<is that actually the real berserk fairy?>
<everyone so tough behind their keyboard>
"Guys..." Long, who was excitedly watching the feed, squinted at his screen. He shook his head, and stared at his camera.
"...I’m telling you, something’s off here. That’s definitely the Hero Killer, and there’s no way he’s only Mid C-tier. Did you see how he fought in the Game? I don’t know what’s happening...
...but this doesn’t add up. Keep watching—I have a feeling this evaluation is about to get a lot more interesting."