Nova woke before the alarm.
The suite's blackout curtains had been left open a crack, letting pale morning light stripe the bed. He sat up, muscles humming with residual energy from last night's overflow. No soreness. No fatigue. Just a quiet, insistent pressure in his core—like a reactor idling at 30% output, waiting for fuel.
He showered, ate half the buffet (steak, eggs, rice, three protein shakes), and dressed in one of the new costumes provided: matte black tactical suit with silver accents running along the seams, reinforced joints, lightweight but clearly designed for high-impact movement. A small silver "N" emblem sat over the left pectoral.
Simple. Clean. Unpretentious.
Exactly how he wanted it.
At 08:45, two Association escorts—both A-Class—collected him from the suite. They didn't speak much. One kept glancing at the faint blue glow that occasionally flickered under Nova's skin when he clenched a fist.
The drive to headquarters main testing grounds took twenty minutes. Traffic parted for the blacked-out van like water around a shark.
When they arrived, the scale hit him.
The testing arena was massive—an open-air coliseum the size of several football fields, ringed by reinforced blast walls fifty meters high. Observation decks rose in tiers above the walls, already packed with Association staff, select heroes, media drones, and a few S-Class members visible in silhouette against the morning sky.
Metal targets, combat dummies, pressure plates, speed corridors, endurance tracks—everything gleamed under floodlights.
A voice crackled over hidden speakers.
"Hero Nova. Report to central platform for initial briefing."
He walked out alone.
The crowd murmur died as spotlights found him.
Sitch stood on a raised dais with a tablet, flanked by Child Emperor and Metal Knight's remote drone. Tatsumaki floated a few meters above them, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Welcome," Sitch said. "This is not a public spectacle—though the footage will be reviewed internally and selectively released. Today's objective: accurately classify your power tier, growth potential, and combat viability."
Nova nodded once.
"First: baseline measurements. Step onto the force plate."
A circular platform rose from the ground in front of him, glowing with embedded sensors.
Nova stepped on.
"Punch the calibration dummy. Full strength, no holding back."
A reinforced dummy—twice the size of a normal human, marked with impact zones—slid into position ten meters away.
Nova exhaled.
He didn't wind up. Didn't telegraph.
Just one clean jab.
The dummy's chest caved instantly. Metal shrieked. The entire rig flew backward, embedding halfway through the far blast wall with a boom that rattled teeth.
Silence.
Child Emperor's goggles flashed as data streamed in.
"Initial output: 24.7 tons kinetic force. Surface impact velocity 312 m/s. No visible strain on subject."
Murmurs from the stands.
Sitch cleared his throat. "Acceptable. Next: endurance and absorption test. We will simulate escalating threat levels. Begin at Tiger-class intensity. Increase until you request stop or we reach Demon-class equivalent."
Panels opened in the walls.
Drones poured out—armed with high-velocity kinetic rounds, plasma cutters, concussive blasts. Not lethal, but enough to hurt.
Nova cracked his neck.
"Bring it."
The first wave hit like a hailstorm.
Projectiles slammed into him from every angle. Each impact fed the growing storm inside.
Kinetic Charge +18% per secondOutput Multiplier: 1.8× → 2.4× → 3.1×
He didn't dodge. He walked forward through the barrage, letting every hit charge him further.
Drones shattered against his skin. Plasma scorched but didn't penetrate. Concussive blasts only pushed him back a step or two.
The Association ramped it up.
Heavy artillery drones. Railgun prototypes. Simulated building-crusher fists on mechanical arms.
Nova started punching back.
Each counter-strike turned a drone into scrap confetti.
Kinetic Charge cycling: 180% → 340% → 520%Output Multiplier: 7.2× → 11.4× → 16.8×
The arena floor cracked under his footsteps.
Tatsumaki's voice cut through the chaos.
"Enough toys. Let's see if he can handle real pressure."
She descended, green aura flaring.
Sitch raised a hand. "Tornado of Terror, this is still—"
"Quiet," she snapped. "I'm not killing him. I'm measuring him."
She raised one hand.
The air thickened.
A telekinetic sphere formed around Nova—slowly at first, then crushing inward with mountain-cracking force.
Bones creaked. Skin stretched. Blood roared in his ears.
But the pressure…
Every ounce of it converted.
Kinetic Charge surging: 800% → 1200% → Overflow criticalOutput Multiplier: 28.9× (unstable)Warning: Structural integrity of body approaching limit
Nova's eyes glowed pure blue-white.
He grinned through gritted teeth.
"Nice try, Tornado."
He planted both feet.
Then pushed outward.
A raw pulse of redirected force exploded from him in all directions.
The telekinetic sphere shattered like glass.
Tatsumaki's eyes widened fractionally—she actually staggered mid-air.
The shockwave rolled across the arena, cracking walls, toppling unused dummies, sending staff diving for cover.
Silence fell again. Deeper this time.
Nova stood in the center of a new, shallow crater, breathing steady, blue light fading from his skin.
He looked up at Tatsumaki.
"Still standing."
She stared for a long second.
Then—shockingly—she smirked.
"Not bad, newbie."
Sitch's voice returned, slightly shaky.
"Testing concluded. Provisional classification: S-Class Rank pending final board vote. Estimated placement: between Rank 10 and Rank 5."
Child Emperor muttered something about "exponential scaling anomaly."
Nova just looked around at the stunned faces, the smoking arena, the floating green esper who had—for once—been forced to take a step back.
He felt the power settle, stable again at a new baseline.
Current Output Multiplier locked: 15.0× (post-overflow cooldown)Estimated ceiling: Unknown
He cracked a small, satisfied smile.
Day three in this world.
Already shaking the S-Class tree.
Saitama was going to have company soon.
End of Chapter 6