Thud!
A soft impact sounded as the fist landed squarely on Fukurou's chest — yet it failed to push him back even an inch.
At the sight, everyone froze. Even the CP9 agents watching from the balcony above stared in utter bewilderment.
"What's going on? Didn't that guy just knock Nero out cold with one kick? Nero's Doriki was over 300!"
"Hmm… was that just luck?"
"Fukurou! What was the reading on that last hit?"
Fukurou's expression twisted into a strange grimace. "5."
"5?!"
The agent in the training robes burst out laughing. "I remember that useless commander of ours only had a Doriki of 9! This is the first time I've seen someone weaker than him! He's completely untrained — worse than an average civilian!"
"Want to try again?" Fukurou scratched his head.
"Chababa… don't hold back. Use your full strength. This is an assessment — anyone below 1,000 Doriki is eliminated immediately."
1,000?
Vladimir estimated that 1,000 Doriki was roughly equivalent to a pirate with a bounty of 30 million berries. It was utterly trivial.
"Though… without using my abilities, this body really is frail. Undertrained, poor circulation… I might even be anemic?"
Shaking his head, Vladimir spoke aloud. "That was just a warm-up. Now I'm getting serious. I'm warning you again — don't blame me if you die."
"Chababa! Stop wasting time and come on!"
Fukurou took a deep breath and once more inflated himself into a massive ball.
Vladimir grinned. He took a sharp step forward, spun around, and delivered a sweeping kick sideways.
BOOM!!
It looked like a simple, ordinary kick. But the moment it connected with Fukurou's stomach, the fat, round body instantly caved inward with terrifying force.
For a split second, Fukurou felt as though he had been kicked cleanly in two.
"Cough!"
He vomited a mouthful of blood and shot backward like a cannonball, smashing straight through the entire building with lightning speed.
CRASH!!
"What?!" The man in training robes was horrified. "Impossible… that kick had no power behind it at all!"
"Fukurou!"
The only female agent in the group leaped down and rushed toward the wreckage.
"I told you — don't blame me if you die," Vladimir said with a smirk. He looked up at the remaining CP9 members.
"Seems that fat guy wasn't qualified to test me. Why don't all of you come at me together?"
No one answered. Instead, they stared back with heavy, serious expressions.
Moments later, the female agent returned, carrying Fukurou.
But Fukurou looked absolutely miserable. He was covered in blood, barely breathing, and looked as if he could die at any moment.
Seeing this, the man with the dove perched on his shoulder spoke coldly. "What was the measurement?"
"8…" Fukurou gasped, his eyes wide with terror. "Over 8,000!"
With that, his head lolled to the side, and he passed out completely.
Hearing the number, everyone's pupils shrank sharply.
"8,000? Impossible! How does it jump from 5 to 8,000?!" The man in robes couldn't accept it. He turned to the leader.
"Lucci — you only have 4,000 Doriki! Do you really believe this scrawny kid is twice as strong as you?!"
It defied all logic. A kick that looked completely harmless, yet carried destructive power beyond reality.
"8,000…?"
Vladimir thought calmly to himself: The power of Vector Control comes entirely from processing capacity.
If I unlocked my full potential, I could stop this planet's rotation for five minutes. Even in my normal state, that kick was less than a third of my strength.
That means… without straining myself, a single strike has a power level of roughly 25,000 Doriki.
What did 25,000 Doriki mean? It meant he could destroy an entire town just by stomping his foot.
Of course, that was just his natural reflex — like how a person jogging doesn't use the same energy as a sprinter.
As for what would happen if he truly went all out… even Vladimir couldn't predict it.
After all, Doriki only measured raw physical strength and destructive capacity.
But just the number 8,000 was enough to leave everyone present stunned and terrified.
"Over 500 makes you a superhuman… what do you call over 8,000? A monster?! Is this skinny guy even human?!"
...
A monster with 8,000 Doriki?! This white-haired kid?!
All the candidates stared at Vladimir as if he were a ghost. The contrast between his frail appearance and the terrifying power of that kick was simply too great.
Rob Lucci, the leader of CP9, gazed silently at Vladimir for a long moment before finally speaking.
This time, it wasn't the dove on his shoulder speaking, but Lucci himself.
"Your name?"
"Accelerator," Vladimir replied with a grin, his tone challenging.
"Why don't you all come at me at once? That fat guy wasn't enough to test me — you're a hundred years too early for that. If that's not enough… bring out your Admiral-level fighters and try."
"I am Rob Lucci, Commander of CP9 and Chief Examiner for this recruitment."
Lucci spoke calmly. "My orders from above are to select candidates whose power surpasses my own, to form a Special Operations Unit. Congratulations… you have qualified."
He leaped down from the second-floor balcony. As he moved, the dove on his shoulder flew away, carrying his coat in its beak.
"Now… I will personally conduct the assessment." Lucci turned to the rest of the candidates, his expression cold and ruthless. "The remaining 303,106 candidates… attack me all at once."
The moment he finished speaking, his body began to undergo a drastic transformation.
____________________
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