CHAPTER 54: ASSESSMENT HAS ALREADY BEGUN!

Chapter 53

"You have strength you want to expend, then do that in the assessment. Which is about to begin."

Immediately the man finished speaking, silence fell upon the room like a heavy curtain. The chattering, the little whispers, the tension in the air—all of it froze at once. Every student’s attention was locked on him.

Max, on the other hand, gave a quiet huff, slipped his hands casually into his pockets, and leaned against a corner wall.

His sharp eyes gleamed faintly as he observed the atmosphere shift. The way everyone stiffened at the man’s words almost amused him.

"Now that I have your attention," the man continued, rubbing his palms together, his tone carrying a trace of authority, "the assessment is about to begin." His gaze swept over each of them, lingering just long enough to make a few shiver.

"This assessment is simple. We want to test your strength, ability, and resilience. In the hunter association, when you’re facing beasts or rogue hybrids, you must always be several steps ahead. Your strength and your speed decide not just your life, but the lives of those who fight beside you."

His voice grew heavier. "Slow pokes or weaklings aren’t welcome here. We don’t have the luxury of dead weight. We need individuals who can complete missions quickly and efficiently."

A ripple of unease spread across the room. Some clenched their fists, others puffed out their chests, but all of them wore grim expressions.

Max? He just yawned internally, his expression blank. He had already heard words like this countless times from arrogant fools who believed they understood strength. Blah, blah, blah... cut to the chase already.

"So it’s simple," the man declared, striding toward a thick black punching bag that hung from reinforced chains. He tapped it twice and pointed at it.

"First is a test of strength. Each of you will hit this bag with everything you’ve got. Don’t hold back. Go all out. If you’re a hybrid, you’re even permitted to partially transform to boost your strike."

A hand shot up. The rich kid from earlier—the one who had taken a personal dislike to Max raised his brow arrogantly. "Wouldn’t that destroy the bag? After all, hybrids are far stronger than ordinary humans." His gaze flicked to Max with a scowl, as though daring him to respond.

Max didn’t. He didn’t even spare him a glance. His lack of reaction only made the brat grit his teeth harder.

"For a normal punching bag, yes, you’d be right," the examiner replied. His lips curved into a grin as he patted the black bag beside him.

"But this baby here isn’t normal. It’s forged with one of the strongest materials the association has ever discovered. It can take a hybrid’s blow without flinching, so don’t worry. None of you weaklings are going to break it."

That earned a few gulps from the crowd.

’Hmm.’ Max’s eyes narrowed slightly. His gaze dropped inward.

{STR: 56}

’I wonder if this is enough to make the bag tremble... or even break. Would that score me something impressive, or would they think I cheated?’ His lips curved faintly. ’Guess I’ll find out soon enough.’

The examiner went on. "Listen carefully. The lowest, bare minimum score acceptable for this strength assessment is fifteen. Anything below that, and you’re immediately disqualified. No exceptions."

The murmurs grew louder now. Some students visibly paled, already worried if their fists had the weight to qualify.

"Now for the second test." The man moved toward a sleek treadmill-like device stationed at the side of the room. Its metallic frame was inscribed with faint glowing lines, clearly powered by some advanced tech or enchantment.

"This test measures your speed. A hunter’s greatest asset isn’t always raw power—it’s agility. Your ability to dodge, pursue, and react often matters more than strength alone.

You’ll run as fast and as hard as you can for five minutes. The machine will track your speed. The minimum passing score here is also fifteen."

He paused, eyes glinting. "The third and final test will be revealed only to those who pass these two."

The students shifted anxiously, their determination colliding with their fear.

"By the way, I’m Hunter Ben," he said, clapping his hands together, rubbing his palms as if to stoke the fire of anticipation. His grin widened. "And I’ll be personally calling your names one after the other. The assessment begins now."

’It’s starting.’ Max’s heartbeat quickened despite his calm facade. His fists clenched briefly inside his pockets.

’This is it. Whether I enter the hunter’s association or not will be determined by these tests.’ His lips twitched upward into a faint smirk. ’Not that I care much for the association itself... but this could open doors. And doors are opportunities.’

"First applicant: Joe!"

A young man stepped forward, chest puffed out with nervous bravado.

’Joe... huh.’ Max blinked, his chest tightening for a moment. ’The same name as my best friend back in my world. I wonder how he’s been holding up since the news of my death. Did he curse fate? Or just... move on?’

He exhaled softly, pushing the thought aside as the other Joe squared up before the punching bag.

"Go," Ben commanded.

Joe roared, flexed every muscle in his body, and swung his fist with all the force he could muster.

BANG!

The sound echoed across the hall. The heavy bag jerked slightly, swinging just an inch. Glowing numbers flickered rapidly in the air above it before freezing on a final result.

15

"Congratulations," Ben said without hesitation. "You pass this assessment. Move on to the next." He gestured toward the treadmill.

Joe clicked his tongue in annoyance, clearly unimpressed with his own performance. He climbed onto the treadmill anyway, muttering under his breath, while Ben began toggling the controls. The machine whirred to life, glowing faintly as Joe started sprinting with all he had.

Beep, Beep!

"Time’s up," Ben announced, his tone clipped and firm. Joe immediately hopped down from the treadmill, sweat dripping down his forehead as the hunter checked the score flashing on the side panel.

15

"You pass these assessments. Stand to the side," the man declared without much emotion.

Joe scoffed under his breath, his face twisted with annoyance. He strode over to the side with heavy steps, the sound of his boots hitting the floor louder than it needed to be, a petty attempt to vent his frustration.

"Next applicant; Zach," Hunter Ben called out.

The young man, the same rich kid who had earlier gotten into a scuffle with Max, stepped forward. His stride was confident, steady, and filled with a natural arrogance. Every step seemed to echo the privilege and power he carried.

He stopped right in front of the punching bag, his shoulders squared, his gaze sharp.

"You ready?" Ben asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Zach didn’t bother replying. Instead, he calmly transformed his hand into a single, thick spike. The transformation was smooth, almost practiced, and he raised his arm like a weapon that had been waiting for its moment.

"Go!"

BANG!

The sound of the impact rang through the room. Zach struck the punching bag with all his might, the spike digging in and forcing the heavy bag to sway violently from side to side. The chains rattled overhead, groaning under the sudden weight shift.

To the side, the numbers flickered and shuffled rapidly on the display screen before locking in place.

35

Zach didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. He simply turned his head toward Max and flashed a wide grin. His lips curved upward in mockery, his expression practically screaming that he had already proven himself superior.

"Next assessment," Ben instructed.

Without hesitation, Zach hopped onto the treadmill. The machine whirred to life, and he began jogging. His feet struck the belt with rhythmic precision, the steady thud of each step echoing through the quiet room. His breathing remained even, calculated, as if he had been preparing for this moment all his life.

Five minutes passed, and the familiar beeping sound rang out again. The treadmill slowed to a halt.

33

"You pass. Move to the side," Ben announced.

Zach stepped down, wiping the faintest trace of sweat from his brow. He walked over to Joe, planting himself beside him. His posture remained tall and proud, his eyes never leaving Max. His grin widened into something between a challenge and mockery.

Max, however, didn’t even spare him a glance. His expression remained calm, almost indifferent, as if Zach’s little performance wasn’t even worth acknowledging.

"Next applicant; Max," Hunter Ben called out.

Max casually shrugged, his demeanor as unbothered as ever. Without rushing, he walked toward the punching bag, his steps smooth and relaxed, almost lazy. The others tracked his every move, curiosity and skepticism heavy in their gazes, but he paid them no attention.

He came to a stop before the punching bag, standing tall with one hand tucked casually in his pocket. The way he stood made it seem as though the test ahead of him was nothing more than a tedious chore he was forced to deal with.

"You ready?" Ben asked.

Max slowly rolled up his sleeves, his movements calm and deliberate. There was no rush in the way he prepared himself. Once he was done, he gave a small nod.

"Go!"