Chapter 6: Combat Assessment

After Joss, the test continued as usual. The ten trainees who were originally ranked in the top ten among this batch of newcomers now looked at Joss with eyes tinged by something different. Whether their feelings were favorable or not, Joss gave them no opportunity to say anything; he slipped away immediately after finishing his test, heading off to prepare for the next one.

He had just received a system prompt: after scoring full marks in the test, his recklessness level had risen by seven points, reaching a total of thirteen, and he had completed a hidden quest. At this moment, his mind was focused on seeing what new rewards awaited him.

Joss’s actions aside, the tests proceeded swiftly and orderly. By the end of the first round, nearly half of the ordinary trainees had been eliminated. Even among the top ten, four failed to meet the standards, and the highest score among the rest was a mere sixty-five.

Unlike the ordinary trainees, these were the elite among the students; thus, even if they failed, they would not be eliminated outright. However, their eligibility for the hero reserve and their future status and treatment within S.H.I.E.L.D. would clearly be determined by this exam. Their expressions were anything but cheerful.

After noon, when the last few trainees finished their tests, Nick Fury directly announced the start of the second trial.

“As expected, the sooner you finished the first round, the more time you had to rest. Those who lingered until the end now have to endure these consecutive tests, like a grueling gauntlet,” Joss thought. After deducing that physical endurance and situational judgment were also being tested, he had proactively volunteered for the first round; now, it seemed his decision had been spot on.

Standing atop the platform, Nick Fury surveyed the crowd, now nearly halved in size. His first words sent chills down everyone’s spine.

“Too many people. We’re agents, not soldiers, so the upcoming combat test will cut our numbers in half.”

The trainees’ feelings were clearly not Fury’s concern. Amid the collective gasp, he continued, expressionless.

“The combat test will be a real battle simulation, opponents assigned randomly. The match ends when one side is incapacitated or voluntarily surrenders. Any equipment or abilities may be used, except for those causing mass destruction.”

No one expected the second trial to be such an all-out brawl, virtually free of rules. Panic swept through the crowd.

“How interesting… a battle that ignores terrain and the balance of forces. Unfair as it is, it fits the versatile nature of an agent perfectly…”

As Fury spoke, Joss rhythmically nodded his head, thoughtfully pondering the purpose of this test. It was now clear: the exam was designed to mimic the unpredictable situations an agent might face. In the field, no one could guarantee the circumstances or the nature of the enemy encountered, and foes would not spare someone simply because they were a scientist.

“That one, the guy shaking his head—yes, you. First arena: Joss S.D. Dick versus Jason Green.”

Suddenly, Fury’s words snapped Joss from his reverie, and he fixed him with a look that said, “Yes, I’m playing favorites, and I’m deliberately giving you this opponent.” Don’t ask how his one eye could convey so much, but Joss could see it clearly.

“That guy hasn’t been eliminated yet?”

Hearing Joss’s name, many were taken aback—they hadn’t expected him to survive the first trial.

What they didn’t know was that Joss’s perfect score had caused a ripple among Fury and the other high-ups, who had deliberately suppressed the news. Even the ten who tested with him knew he’d scored full marks, but not what it meant. To admit it would be humiliating: a so-called underachiever managed a perfect score, while the self-proclaimed elites barely scraped the sixties. Who would dare broadcast such embarrassment?

Thus, few realized the magnitude of Joss’s achievement; most assumed he’d survived through luck.

“Hah, but luck only lasts so long. His opponent is Jason.”

“Right… In terms of raw fighting power, he’s arguably the strongest of this year’s batch.”

Everyone knew the training camp’s rankings were comprehensive. The two who outranked Jason did so because of their superior agent skills, not combat ability. Jason was a mutant; once his powers activated, his strength soared, and he could easily lift two or three hundred pounds. His skin was as tough as leather, nearly impervious to knives, and his resilience was remarkable.

Under other circumstances, one might exploit Jason’s lack of speed, using weapons and abilities to maneuver. But in the confined space of the test arena, he was an unbeatable war god.

Even Joss knew of Jason’s strength from memories.

“Tsk… That damned egghead. No wonder my recklessness went up by seven points after the test. So this is where the real challenge lies.”

Nick Fury’s arrangement was undoubtedly retaliation for Joss’s outstanding performance in the first exam. Joss could only swallow the bitter pill.

“Tsk, but… I wanted to test my combat prowess anyway. This is the perfect opportunity.”

Recalling his recent discovery, Joss felt little fear for the impending fight—in fact, he was a bit excited. Not that Joss was a battle maniac, but survival in this world often required him to push himself.

True, fists and blades are merciless; even a test duel could result in injury or death. But if one didn’t dare participate in a well-prepared competition like this, how could they face a superhuman war, an alien invasion, or a snap from the purple titan?

…

Watching Joss stride toward the arena with his backpack, Nick Fury nodded quietly, then turned to the female examiner beside him.

“Tracy…”

“Yes, sir. If you’re worried he’ll get hurt in the match, I’ve already arranged for a squad to intervene at any time. The medical team is also ready on-site.” As she spoke, Tracy raised her tablet to show Fury her preparations.

But Fury didn’t even glance at the tablet, instead lowering his voice, “Do you think I’d be good at rapping?”

“Sir, please be serious.”