[LSB] Chapter 148: Basic

Neuromuscular Output Efficiency Test.

The Exterminator Association had used it since its inception. And it wasn’t just them—nearly every organization that demanded physical performance used it to evaluate their people. The military. Elite security corps. Even Humanity Engineering had used it when they tested Julian’s clone before sending him into Artemia.

It was, and still is, the most effective and simplest way to test one’s true raw strength in the fastest time. In one single motion, it would measure the body’s peak force output, speed of contraction, coordination efficiency, muscle recruitment ratio, neural delay time, and so much more—and all it takes is one single motion, one single strike without even hitting anything.

“W-what the… fuck?”

The people, however, did not need the NOE test or any other tests for that matter to know just how strong Julian’s kick was.

“What the fuck was that?!”

The people around him were starting to sound like a looping feed, with all of their eyes following Julian’s foot as he slowly lowered it to the floor. And even more slowly, the crowd turned their attention to the holographic display at the side of the stage—the panel that should be showing his score.

…But there was nothing there.

“What’s… going on?”

“Why isn’t it showing anything?”

“Did… anyone even see what happened? Maybe he didn’t do anything yet?”

“Then what was that sound?”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

The people’s voices started growing louder by the second, but Julian just stood quietly on top of the stage. But after a few more breaths, he angled his ear at the person overseeing the test.

“Should I go again?” He asked. The proctor didn’t respond immediately and was only staring at the empty air where Julian’s foot had been.

“Excuse me.”

But as Julian spoke to him again, he quickly snapped out of his silent, raging thoughts and focused on his terminal. He fumbled for his tablet, even channeling his ancestors and slapping it to make it work—but their devices were way past the need to do that, if there was ever a need. And the result was actually already there; it was just being filtered by the AI, quarantining the data.

[Error: result outside of acceptable parameters for NOE test without enhancements. Human intervention required. Please check if the candidate did not use any internal or external enhancements.]

“Uhm…” 

The proctor blinked a couple of times. His eyes moved uncontrollably, not knowing where to look or whether to approach Julian or not.

“...Did you use your exosuit?” He asked, clearly uncertain.

And Julian reached up and pulled back the collar of his shirt, revealing the inert vanta-black suit beneath. There was no sign that it was activated at all, and none of the systems were picking anything from it.

“I don’t believe so, no,” he said, already shifting into position again. “Should I try again?”

“No!” The proctor quickly raised his voice and waved his hands, “There’s… no need. The system’s a hundred percent accurate. It’s just, uh… alright.”

He dismissed the error screen with a flick, and finally, the result projected above the stage.

[NOE: 45.7]

“Huh?”

And as soon as Julian’s result was displayed, all of the murmurs and whispers instantly faded away. 

Their eyes were just glued to the number, and even their minds were devoid of anything else but the number.

It wasn’t until Julian spoke again that the crowd finally snapped out of their collective stupor.

“Did I pass the first phase?” He said, once again angling his ear toward the proctor. This time, however, the proctor couldn’t help but release some sort of… sound from his mouth.

A whimper? A gasp? Both?

It was hard to discern exactly what it was, but he wasn’t alone. Some of the candidates were also making the same noise with their mouths.

“Forty… what?” Someone finally muttered.

“What’s the average? Isn’t it like 3.4?”

“A-are we sure he’s human? Isn’t he an android?”

“He’s… supposed to be a mutant. But this is—isn’t he just superhuman at this point?”

“What… what was the previous record again?! Can someone search?!”

“It was by Orianna. She… got 10.6.”

“More than double?!”

“Orianna Bjornsdottir?! Isn’t she the strongest human right now?!”

“He’s four times stronger than Orianna?!”

“No… NOE measurements are logarithmic.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Are you three? How can you not know that?”

“Orianna’s said to be six times stronger than the average human, right?”

“How… strong does that make him, then?”

The other candidates weren’t even hiding their words in whispers anymore. They were outright talking about Julian, and their words were practically a complete echo of what was going on in the world of the internet, too.

But at last, the proctor told everyone to calm down. His voice reverberated through the speakers.

[Everyone, please refrain from speaking while others are taking their test.]

Taking their tests? Who? Everyone is completely focused on the mutant—was everyone’s thought. But they fell silent anyway and followed the proctor’s words, finally keeping their mouths shut.

“Mr. Winters…” The proctor said, clearing his throat as the platform he was standing on hovered next to Julian’s stage, “...We’ll continue to the next phase. Please activate all of your enhancements, or in your case, your exosuit, and repeat the same movement as before.”

It was usually the AI’s job to tell that to Julian, but the proctor wanted to focus all of his attention on Julian’s test. No one else would be needing his focus anyway; every other candidate had paused to watch.

Julian tilted his head for a moment before a soft light started to seep out from beneath the hems of his clothes. 

And without even saying a word, his stance shifted. His foot slid backward, body sinking lower. And before anyone could blink, that same leg was already up in the air.

Those who didn’t blink, and who were watching closely, saw the air itself bend, warping around the force of his kick. And then, a swirling skirt of compressed wind burst from his leg.

The rest? They felt it.

The shockwave hit first—an invisible blast that smacked into the ones closest to him, whipping their hair back, almost knocking whatever common sense they had left.

And then came the sound, a booming crack that echoed like thunder through the dome straight from the source—Julian.

Fortunately for the other candidates, the result of the second phase was no longer shown in the holographic display, or they would have surely lost their minds.

Julian slowly lowered his foot and once again just stood there, as if he hadn’t just done something impossible. Well… relatively.

No human could have pulled off what he did, but back on Artemia, there were likely hundreds, maybe thousands, who could. Some were even stronger than him.

The Shield Saint, for one.

If she were able to go to Earth, she would be walking on a planet where everything would feel like sand castles to her. This was what Erin was so afraid of.

She was confident that Earth’s technology could defeat Erin, but not before she had already wreaked havoc—and that was something humanity couldn’t afford with the threat of the daemons still looming over them.

Julian understood that now. It took a being thousands of years old to scold it into him, but he understood.

Everything he had—the peace, the home, the people he’d begun to care for—would crumble if he didn’t fight.

If he didn’t act.

If he didn’t take revenge on those who’d wronged him.

Femty could detect Julian’s heart spiking again, but she remained quiet this time and did not bother him at all. Exhalia and the Avatar of Searadyn were the same—they were directly bonded to Julian, and they knew that the only one who could really convince him to stay calm was gone.

They were directly connected to him, and they knew how… disconnected he truly was to everything and anything.

Silvie was Julian’s only guide… and she was gone.

Silvie was Julian’s bridge to the rest of the world.

He was his moral compass, and now she was on the only planet the humans aren’t able to step on.

Without her, something inside Julian was shifting. The mask was slipping. The curtain, once gently held closed by Silvie’s presence, was starting to draw back.

And even they, who had lived in Artemia’s birth, feared what lay behind this curtain.

Still, they could try to close it.

[Master. Forgive me for being impudent, but steady yourself,] the Avatar of Searadyn whispered in his mind, [As one who struggles with temper, I know well the path erratic emotions can lead to. I lost mine when I met you—and I was punished for it.]

“Hmm,” Julian hummed, drawing in a breath deeper than usual before he angled his head slightly toward the proctor. “Is that sufficient?”

Once again, the proctor just stared at him for several long seconds before managing to respond, although stutteringly.

“Th-that… yes,” he said. “That’s… more than sufficient.”

He looked down at his tablet, trying to recompose himself before continuing.

“We’ll proceed with the final stage of the Strength Aptitude Test—Gravity Load Tolerance. In a few moments, the stage you’re standing on will be enclosed in a bubble. Gravity will then increase dynamically—first based on your current performance, and second, based on your body’s theoretical limit. You’re free to move as you wish. Stand still, walk, stretch your limbs—it’s up to you.”

“Hmm.”

“Are you… ready?” The proctor narrowed his eyes as he only received a hum from Julian. But when Julian said nothing more, he tapped on his tablet, and four pillars began rising from the corners of the stage, surrounding Julian with a rhythmic hum as the containment field began to form.

The air around the pillars pulsed as a shimmering bubble began to form—rising from the corners, curling upward and inward in the air until a full hemisphere enclosed the stage. Julian tilted his head slightly at the unfamiliar hum, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the voice of an AI.

[Gravity at 1 and increasing. 1.1… 1.2…]

The AI’s voice continued to ring inside the stage, but Julian only stood still and did not move at all. There wasn’t even a change in his expression at all—and it didn’t help that his eyes were completely shut.

How could he not be unperturbed by this, when Artemia’s gravity was, by itself, five times that of Earth already?

[2.4… 2.5…]

The numbers climbed steadily, and everyone watching held their breath, waiting—expecting Julian to at least shift his stance. He didn’t.

[2.9…]

[3.8…]

[5.2…]

It wasn’t until Earth’s gravity was quintupled that murmurs finally began to ripple through the crowd.

“What… was Orianna’s record?”

“I think it was exactly… 13g.”

[7.0…]

“Didn’t she black out right after that? They had to pull her out.”

“Shit… it’s at 8gs now and he hasn’t even flinched!”

“He’s… he’s a fucking monster!”

Everyone watched as the invisible pressure inside the bubble increased further and further without Julian even reacting. But finally, after several more seconds, he started to move… at 10g.

And it was only to tilt his head. This was the first time he was feeling gravity increase gradually, after all—and at 10g, it now felt like how everything felt before. Before the Otherworld. Before Artemia.

[13g.]

“That’s Orianna’s record! He’s beaten Orianna’s record!”

Someone raised their voice, but the others thought it was extremely unnecessary—of course, Julian would beat Orianna’s record, they all thought.

Someone with a result of 45.7 on their NOE test was no longer in the realm of humans.

And so, most of them kept their mouths shut. That is, until…

[20g.]

“What the fuck?!”

“Shouldn’t they pull him out?!”

“Why…? He looks completely fine.”

“He… he does, doesn’t he?”

[25g.]

“W-wait a minute…”

[30g.]

“Are we actually—wait, he’s moving!”

Everyone’s breath caught in their throats as they watched Julian take a step forward. Then another. And another. Each movement looked almost effortless. Like he wasn’t under the crushing weight of thirty times Earth’s gravity.

Then, finally, he tilted his ear toward the proctor.

“Why is the gravity not increasing anymore?”

This time, the proctor answered him immediately.

“It… can’t,” he whispered, “That’s… the maximum output.”

“Do I need to transfer to a bigger one?”

“That… I don’t think there’s a need to?”

***

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Not much to say but... Julian's effortlessly that guy.