CHAPTER 24: STRENGTH TEST

The man led Silva to the first test, a test of strength. There was a horizontal metal bar connected to a device.

"This will be the first of the strength-type evaluations. We have two strength tests that you have to get through.

Now, it is ranked A to F. A pull force of fifty kilograms or less will get you an F, fifty to sixty will get you an E, sixty to seventy is a D, seventy to eighty is a C, and eighty to a hundred is a B. It continues like that, the highest being A. You’ll need a strength above two hundred and fifty kilograms to get an S," he explained and then stepped to the side.

"I suggest you stretch a little before you begin pulling," he said.

Silva nodded and stretched a little, then looked at the bar. He recalled the skill that he had gained and was yet to use, Minotaur’s Rage.

[Minotaur’s Rage: gives user a double increase in all stats and allows the user to push his body beyond the limits. Duration: one minute. Cooldown: one hour.]

It was a skill that he could have used to handle those men, or even those goblins, but he saw it as his trump card, something he didn’t want to use until he had absolutely no choice.

He could use it here to increase his strength by a lot, but that wouldn’t be his true strength. Putting those thoughts aside, he walked to the device and bent low. He grabbed it and pulled hard.

The veins on his neck and head bulged. The number on the device immediately started climbing. In a few seconds, it rushed past the fifty-kilogram mark.

When Silva saw that, his confidence increased. He pulled harder and it soon crossed sixty. This was the point where it started to get hard, but he kept pulling.

Finally, it crossed the ninety-kilogram mark. His face was red and he was about to give up, but then he gritted his teeth. He was giving it his all, it didn’t matter if he passed out after this.

He wasn’t backing down like before, or running away. He was taking what was his with his own two hands. So he pulled harder, and it hit the hundred-kilogram mark.

Immediately after, he let go. He staggered backward, the entire hall felt like it was dancing, and he collapsed onto his butt, breathing heavily.

The man walked to him and handed him an energy drink. "That was pretty impressive. Not many people can push past the limits of their bodies like that," he said.

Silva looked up, forced a smile, and took the drink. He opened the can and started drinking like he was starved.

While he drank, the man looked at the device. "You hit the hundred-kilogram mark. That puts you at a B. That’s pretty impressive, seeing your original test showed you had a strength of E," he stated.

"I guess training paid off," Silva muttered as he got back to his feet, his demonic healing already taking care of his body.

"So, what’s the next one?" he asked.

"The next one? Don’t you think you should rest a bit before you continue?" the man asked.

"I’ll be fine. I have a very fast recovery," Silva said. The man raised his brow but didn’t say anything else.

"Alright, let’s go," he said and led the way to the second device. It was like a pillar made of soft padding. It also had a screen connected to it for strength.

"This is for you to punch. It will calculate your explosive strength. The metrics are similar to the first test, so if you want to get a B, you have to punch around eighty kilograms with one hand," the man said.

Silva nodded. He looked at the device, took a deep breath, then stepped forward and pulled his arm back.

If he wanted a good punch, he needed to put all his training to use: pull the energy from his feet, twist his body at just the right angle, and throw the punch.

He made a few weak practice swings and then punched. His fist ripped through the air, BAM! as it collided with the device. The sound was so loud it drew the attention of those around.

The numbers rose rapidly and then finally came to a stop at ninety-two, giving him a B and a punch force of almost one hundred kilograms.

One needed to be a professional martial artist to be able to generate that sort of power normally. The man was stunned as he saw the results. He looked at Silva.

"I honestly thought you would get eighty, but ninety seemed far-fetched. I guess you are stronger than I thought," he said.

Silva looked at his fist. He felt like he could break through a wall in one punch.

"Alright, the speed test comes next, but I suggest you take a short break before getting into it," the man said.

Silva nodded and walked to a bench. He sat down, sweat dripping from his fist.

"Pretty impressive punch," someone’s voice came from the side. Silva looked and saw a man seated beside him, shirtless and sweating. His entire body was ripped, he looked like a superhero, and his long black hair added a nice vibe.

"Thank you," Silva said.

"Your first evaluation, or?" the man asked.

"No, my second," Silva replied.

"Ahh, aiming higher, I see. So what’s your current rank?" the man asked.

"F rank," Silva said as he got to his feet. "I’ll be on to the speed test now," he said and started walking there.

The man sitting there was stunned. How did an F-rank output such strength? That was impossible.

Silva reached the examiner again. "I’m ready," he said.

"What? I said you should rest," the man said.

"I did. I told you, I have a fast recovery," Silva said.