Marcus led Max into the testing bay and stopped before a wide, open section of the room.
Floating a few feet above the floor was a black circular plate. There were no wires holding it up, nor any visible machine connected to it.
Max stared at the strange object for a moment before turning toward Marcus.
"First up is Strength," Marcus explained, gesturing toward the plate. "Hit it with everything you have. No weapons."
Max nodded and stepped forward.
He planted his feet, lowered his body slightly, and pulled his right arm back. Then, putting as much force as he could into the motion, he lunged forward and drove his fist straight into the center of the plate.
He expected a loud clang, but instead, there was no sound at all.
His fist sank against the surface without even feeling like it had struck something solid. For a moment, it almost felt as though he had punched empty air.
Then weakness suddenly swept through his body.
Max’s knees nearly dipped as the strength drained from his muscles, but the feeling vanished almost as quickly as it came. Within a few seconds, he felt normal again.
A holographic screen appeared above the plate.
[Strength: 12]
Max pulled his hand back and stared at it.
Exactly twelve.
’I feel like I could produce a lot more force if I lunged with my entire body and used all four limbs instead of just throwing one fist.’
Even thinking about it felt strangely natural now.
’Still, it’s fairly accurate.’
Twelve was exactly what his Status showed.
"Follow me," Marcus said without commenting on the result.
Max followed him across the bay until they reached a raised platform.
Sitting on top of it was a large treadmill, much wider and longer than any normal exercise machine Max had seen. Sensors ran along both sides of the track.
"Next is Agility," Marcus said. "Get on and run."
Max stepped onto the treadmill.
The belt immediately began moving beneath his feet.
He started at a light jog, and at first, it was easy.
Then the speed increased. Max adjusted his pace.
It increased again.
His jog quickly became a run, then a full sprint as the machine continued getting faster.
His feet hammered against the moving track while his arms pumped beside him.
Before long, his breathing grew heavier.
The belt kept accelerating.
Max gritted his teeth and leaned forward, forcing his legs to keep pace. His muscles began to burn, and for a moment he felt as though one wrong step would send him flying backward.
Then the treadmill stopped.
The belt slowed rapidly beneath him until it came to a complete halt.
Max stepped off the platform and bent forward slightly, breathing hard.
For a few seconds, exhaustion weighed down his entire body.
Then, just like after the Strength test, the feeling quickly faded.
A screen appeared above the treadmill.
[Agility: 12]
Max straightened and stared at the result.
Twelve again.
’Once again... I feel like I would’ve been faster using all four limbs.’
His eyes narrowed slightly.
’Is that because of the Experience I devoured?’
The tests soon continued as normal.
For Constitution and Stamina, the machines showed zero courtesy. A set of blunt, mechanical pistons repeatedly hammered into Max’s chest, shoulders, and legs, testing his pain tolerance.
Max locked his jaw and took every hit without taking a step back. Right after, the system forced him through high-gravity exertion drills until his lungs burned.
[Constitution: 12]
[Stamina: 12]
Intelligence came next, scanned through a simple mana-capacity node. Another flat 12.
Finally, Marcus fitted a metallic band around Max’s temples for the Willpower test.
WIL governed a Player’s perception, focus, and mental defense against psychic effects.
The machine emitted a sharp wave of mental static, simulating the disorienting aura of a Gate monster.
A dull ache pounded behind Max’s eyes, but his expression stayed blank. He stared straight ahead until the machine signaled the end.
[Willpower: 12]
Marcus pulled up the final tally on his tablet and quietly sighed.
A baseline human sat at 10 across all stats. Gaining two levels awarded two points to each basic attribute, bringing a standard, unspecialized Player to 12.
Usually, an Awakened class changed those numbers completely.
A combat class like Berserker dumped three points into Strength with every level up instead of one. A Mage saw massive spikes in Intelligence.
With Unique classes, the perks and multipliers were usually game-breaking.
Yet Max hadn’t received a single class bonus. Every stat was a flat, uninspiring 12.
To Marcus, the math was obvious: Max had rolled a dud class.
The system occasionally handed out completely useless titles like Farmer or Tax Calculator, classes that offered zero combat advantages and left their users with the bare-minimum baseline growth.
Marcus looked at Max and his stern expression softened with a hint of real pity.
Surviving an E-rank monster only to end up with a dead-weight class was a tough break.
"Alright, that wraps it up," Marcus said, walking over to a small dispenser by the door. A sleek black-and-silver card dropped into the tray. He picked it up and handed it over.
"You’re an official F-Rank Player, Max. Stay out of trouble."
"Nice," Max said.
He took the card, shoved it into his pocket, and walked out the door without another word.
Marcus stayed behind, staring at the empty hallway.
He tapped his fingers against his desk. Something felt wrong. Most duds usually panicked or threw up after their evaluations.
Meanwhile, Max had this crazy edge and confidence through his every movement.
He looked less like an unlucky researcher and more like a predator waiting for a chance to strike.
On top of that, Max had specifically chosen to keep his class hidden under the legal anonymity clause, which didn’t make much sense for someone that had picked up a weak class.
Marcus sighed, tapped his tablet, and opened Max’s internal file.
[Player: Max 79UG03]
[Class: Unknown]
[Threat Level: Special]
***
Max pushed through the glass doors of the Association building.
The evening air was cool against his neck. The campus sky had settled into a beautiful pale purple.
He slid a hand into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the plastic edge of his new license.
The Association thought he was average. They didn’t know his stats were just a starting point, or that [Glutton] didn’t follow the rules of normal growth.
Before he could take another step toward the street, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Max pulled it out. The caller ID flashed on the screen, showing a name that brought an immediate, wicked grin to his face.