The Mech Touch

by Stayrr

Humanity has conquered half the galaxy and the Age of Mechs reigns supreme! Ves Larkinson lacked the genetic aptitude to become a famed mech pilot. Fighting against his fate, he studied mech design in order to express his love for mechs as a builder instead of a soldier. When Ves graduated from college, he returned to a new but empty boutique. Left with a small, newly founded mec

5. 82

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Now that the previous round eliminated most designers, everyone gained sufficient space to work. The regulating system automatically paired mech designers against each other, forcing everyone to shuffle around. Ves walked to the left side of the field and met his opponent.

"Hi. I'm Ves Larkinson." He greeted politely. He looked at the man's floating nameplate. "So you are Floyd Lee?"

"Tch. This will be easy." The Leemar graduate contemptuously said. Unlike the other students who wore purple, he wore an exclusive blue uniform decorated with many more symbols. He also wore a silver sash, which carried a special meaning that Ves couldn't figure out, though only a few graduates shared the same colors.

Ves frowned a bit at his opponent's lack of response. He wanted to spark up a conversation to learn more about his opponent, but his contempt revealed no further openings. He only figured out that this handsome floating man was an elite, and from his accent he likely originated from a core planet of the Carnegie Group.

"Give up, loser. I have no idea how you got through the first round, but I can assure you your progress ends here. Save me the trouble and make way for a future master."

"No thanks. I'd rather stay." Ves said in a clipped tone. He encountered plenty of entitled bastards in the past when he studied at Rittersberg, and he learned that the best way to cope with them was to keep your responses minimal.

Floyd intended to press the conversation. "Don't think that the rules will stop a man of my caliber. I have ways of cleaning you up if I find you displeasing."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to say that in the open with all kinds of monitoring systems active?"

"This little school doesn't care."

Evidently, Ves placed too much faith on the Leemar Institute of Technology's impartiality. Past competitions sometimes ended strangely when contestants of lesser means dropped out or spontaneously fell sick. Eventually it grew so bad that the LIT had to make a statement and put a stop to these unsavory actions.

His mood sank when Ves figured out that mere words could not elicit protective measures. He considered Floyd closer. Though he looked imposing, Ves did not find him to be particularly notable. He didn't recognize his face or his name, so he shouldn't be too famous.

As someone who recently stared death in the face, Ves was not easily cowed. Not anymore. Though he still acted discreet, he recently realized there were times when he had to forge ahead even if he ran into obstacles.

"You refer to yourself as a master, but all I hear is bluster. Come back before me with an official master seal from the MTA and then we'll talk. Until then, prepare to go back to your villa, because I'm going to eliminate you in a couple of hours."

"You..!"

In effect, Ves burned his bridges with his opponent. Without any means of reconciliation, Ves backed himself into a corner. If he succeeded in attracting the attention of a master, then clueless blowhards like Floyd were inconsequential. If he failed, then not only did he fail the System's mission, he'd also have to watch his back on the return trip.

The duel started soon enough. The noise disappeared when a new projection surrounded everyone. Everyone recognized the familiar interface of a virtual mech workshop. The only addition was that everyone could view their opponent's workshop and even access their files on the terminal.

Professor Marshall explained how their designs were tested at the end of the design period. "As with all standard duels, your designs will be piloted by our proprietary AIs in a hundred different simulations. Whoever designed the mech that wins the most will qualify for the next round. There's only one little change."

Everyone waited in anticipation.

"The piloting AI will remember the previous matches and can improve from its previous experiences."

This was a bombshell. Even after several hundred years of development, piloting AIs could never really match up against real pilots. The normal simulations only used the most basic, foolproof AIs for testing. Generally, only high-grade AIs were able to adapt intelligently to prior experience, and required a lot of processing power to do so.

The conventional strategy in designing a mech for a duel was to make it as simple as possible. The simpler the mech, the flatter the learning curve. This allowed the piloting AIs to grasp the mech as fast as possible and effectively use its strengths.

In a situation where the mech had time to learn from its mistakes and improve its performance over time, the story was different. Higher performing mechs were usually more complex, featuring a much steeper learning curve. The advantage of more complex mechs were that they usually performed much better in certain situations. If the AI was able to grasp the right technique for the right situation, it could leverage a complex mech's strength to incredible heights.

"You have eight hours to complete your design. Now start!"

Everyone approached their terminals and opened the interface. At their current level, the LIT did not expect everyone to design a functional mech from scratch, so everyone had a choice of standard components. Ves took a look at what kind of parts he had to work with, and estimated that they matched up to 3-star mechs in Iron Spirit.

"That's a little beyond what I'm used to, but with my recent improvements I should be able to handle them. First, I have to determine the shape and weight classes."

He took a look at Floyd, who confidently picked a frame without even bothering to wait for Ves. His empty workshop shimmered and the giant shape of a panther-shaped mech came into view.

The floating designer laughed down at Ves. "Hahaha, I gave you a chance to retreat, but now it's too late! I'm at the top of my class when it comes to felinid mechs! Let the Beastmaster show you how it's done!"

To his regret, Ves was not very familiar with beast mechs. Even if Ves could see everything Floyd was doing, without understanding most of it, he might as well be blind.

If Floyd chose to work on a humanoid mech, Ves could easily dissect his every move. Now, he could only guess at his design choices. From what he recalled, beast mechs usually flexibility for superior mobility. With four limbs, these wolf or tiger-like mechs possessed unequalled speed and agility, sometimes surpassing humanoid mechs of the same weight class.

In exchange, these quadruped mechs had less choices to work with. Wolf-shaped mechs usually relied on their highly sophisticated jaws, while tiger-shaped mechs also used their claws. There were more differences, but these were the main points. From What Ves could gather, Floyd's tiger mech was on the lower end of the medium weight class.

"Such a mech relies on speed and momentum to pounce on their opponents. In an open terrain, a light mech built for endurance can maintain their distance and chip away at the slower tiger mech."

Ves doubted that this was the correct solution. Who knew if Floyd followed some classes under Master Olson and could temporarily boost his mech's speed. He was unwilling to gamble on this front.

"I have more leeway if I make a more durable mech. It's best if I design a heavy mech, but I don't have any practical experience in designing them. I can only resort to hefty medium mechs."

Though he didn't know if the X-Factor worked on AI pilots, he still took a few minutes to sharpen his intent. His improved concentration made it easier to fall into the right mood. Even as Floyd occasionally tried to interrupt his thoughts, Ves easily swept aside the words.

"If Floyd fancies himself a beastmaster, then my mech will become the ultimate hunter."

In the end, Ves deferred to his past experience in working with the Caesar Augustus model. He scrolled through the parts section and picked out any legs, arms and torso that conformed to the Caesar Augustus.

All the basic parts of his medium mech eventually appeared in his virtual workshop. With a sturdy torso and legs, the mech he envisioned should be able to withstand a charge if it held a shield.

Against beast mechs, the best way to fight them was to shoot them down before they came into melee range. If Ves knew what kind of terrain the duels took place, he could comfortably make his choices. Yet Professor Marshall hadn't said a thing, which meant that the duels took place in randomized environments. He could not ensure his mech could face the beast mech in open terrain.

"The main armament will be a sword and shield. No, perhaps a spear is better, with a knife as a backup option. The best way to deter a charge is to point something long and sharp at them."

Then what if Floyd implemented ranged weapons on his mech. Ves studied his opponent's early progress and noted that the mouth and flanks possessed the right infrastructure to mount a couple of rifles. He wanted to keep Ves guessing.

If Floyd intended to be meticulous, then he'd definitely incorporate at least one ranged weapon. That meant that Ves had to respond in kind. He studied his chosen parts and noted that the arms only allowed for shoulder mounts. He could forget about wrist-mounted weaponry.

"Shoulder mounts are too fragile, but I don't have any choice. If I resort to a rifle then my mech will take too long to switch weapons."

Everything had their tradeoffs. A mech with shoulder mounts could never match up against a dedicated riflemen in a shootout. Ves persisted with his choice because he doubted Floyd relied entirely on lasers or cannons for his beast mech.

As time passed, Floyd laughed when he saw what Ves decided. "Hahaha! Can't make up your mind? You're not going anywhere if you split your focus."

Ves ignored everything but his own work. Unless Floyd ditched his beast mech and turned to an entirely different frame, Ves gained nothing if he kept staring at his opponent's design. He trusted in his design and its ability to hunt tigers.

He chose to design his medium mech based on armor, agility and close-ranged prowess. Fending off a beast mech required a certain level of fluidity. If he made his mech too sluggish, it could not keep up with a flanking beast mech.

The parts he chose already possessed pretty good armor. He only replaced the base plating with a lighter but more durable variant by using the alloy compression machine. Those who were not familiar with alloy compression could only scratch their heads, but someone like Ves who mastered the basics, he could still produce the plates when fed with standard materials.

Fabricating all of the replacement armor by hand took three hours, and that was with the virtual workshop giving him a speed boost. The process was much slower in reality. As mech duels were only supposed to be finished within a day, these virtual workshops customarily offered these kinds of conveniences so the audience wouldn't get bored.

He spent another two hours slapping together the rest. As Ves chose to go with a simple loadout, he did not have to extensively rearrange the internals. This saved him quite a bit of time. Together with his high Mechanics skill, he easily pieced together the different parts into a harmonious whole. He only made minor modifications to strengthen his mech's spear handling.

A hunter slowly took shape.

With a couple hours left to go, Ves raised his head to see how Floyd progressed. His jaw dropped when he looked at his opponent's design.

Somehow, he converted a medium ambush-type tiger mech into a heavy artillery-type centaur mech. The mech somehow gained massive amounts of armor without conflicting its movement, while its head had been replaced by a narrow torso that held an ominous laser rifle. Floyd even gave up on the claws and crudely replaced them with heavy hooves. Its main weapon however was the prodigious amount of missile launchers mounted on its back.

While the centaur mech possessed no close-ranged capabilities, its numerous missiles and its high-class laser rifle meant that it could chew up anything that came within sight. The sudden changes also introduced numerous flaws. The engine power could not keep up and its laser rifle used up too much energy for the power reactor to catch up.

That still left Ves at a fundamental disadvantage. His humanoid medium mech could never compete at a distance and was too slow to close the distance in time.

"I screwed up." Ves admitted to himself. He put his complete focus into maintaining his concentration, which made him forget that he could take a peek at his opponent's work. Now he paid for it by allowing Floyd to make a u-turn without alerting him. Turned out that focusing too much on the X-Factor was not always a good thing.

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His brain started churning hotter than ever before. The feeling of crisis hounding after his back was distinctly unpleasant. He had to figure a way to climb out of his own hole.

"There's only two hours left. Before I do anything else, first I should see if Floyd is able to pull another fast one."

As Ves studied Floyd's jury-rigged centaur mech, he found many minor errors. Instead of starting anew with a basic heavy frame, his opponent chose to forcefully increase his beast mech's weight class by slapping a lot of parts together.

He understood why Floyd went in this direction. If he replaced the frame, he'd have to throw away at least a couple of hours of work. Evidently, he couldn't bear to start over.

"Is he crazy?" Ves asked when he realized what Floyd did. In his perspective, it was better to use a frame built to withstand the stresses of a heavy mech than to forcefully reinforce a lighter frame. This ungodly centaur mech certainly had its faults. Compared to a purpose-built centaur mech, his chimera's speed, power and integrity was awful.

Floyd wasn't stupid. His mech might not be capable of chasing an opponent, but it possessed enough firepower to devastate anyone at range.

The missile launchers was also a source of anxiety. Floyd had left them empty. He'd probably chose the missile type at the very last second. With the variety of missiles available, Ves had no way of modifying his mech to withstand a specific missile type.

"Odds are, he's going to resort to one of the three major types: high explosive, thermal, or kinetic. I doubt he'd pick something indirect like EMP or smoke particles."

If Ves could pin down the mix of damage types and optimal ranges of the launchers, he could work some additional armor.

"Hmm, I don't think he'll replace those missile launchers with other weapon types. His mech can't withstand the weight or energy consumption of anything bigger."

This gave him an idea. He looked at his mech's shoulder lasers and made some optimizations. He enhanced their accuracy and fire rate at the cost of impact. He even went to the trouble of incorporating an enhanced targeting system into the head, allowing it to track fast-moving projectiles. In the end, he turned them into decent anti-missile systems.

Ves spied on his opponent again and confirmed he didn't change anything again. Floyd still tried to paper over the worst cracks of his hasty modifications. Besides the missile loadout, everything was set in stone.

"His design still stands a better chance than mine." He concluded after a minute of consideration, though with a narrow margin.

They chose to pursue different extremes. Ves designed a structurally sound mech with the time allotted to him. Floyd embraced the weird duel format and changed his design midway in order to counter his opponent's efforts. While both had their strong points, Floyd took the lead by making his switch at an opportune moment. Ves had no time to change his fundamental design.

"I've got about an hour left. There should be something I can do."

He looked left and right but unfortunately he couldn't steal anyone else's ideas. The projection systems only made the workshops viewable to their owners and their opponents. Only the audience and the organizers were able to see everything, but they had no way of communicating their observations to participants.

"I need to think outside the box. I can't just submit this design without taking advantage of the competition format."

He thought about his opponent's mech. Its main damage dealer was its missiles. The laser rifle also posed a threat, but not too much due to the centaur mech's insufficient energy and heat absorption capacities. As the mech gained a pair of humanoid arms, Ves also couldn't rule out that Floyd added a melee weapon such as a spear at the last moment.

He considered his options again in light of this information. While a spear might make the centaur possess some bite at close range, it wasn't enough to fend off a purpose-built melee mech. If his hunter successfully closed the distance, he'd bet his medium mech could beat the centaur mech eighty percent of the time.

"That centaur is slow as hell, and will probably fall apart if it tries to run. Does my mech even need a lot of speed?"

His mech already weighed a lot for a medium mech, so he gave up any strategies involving a dash. Instead, he considered the opposite. If he beefed up his mech's armor and shields, then it stood a better chance of fending off the missile barrage.

"I don't have a lot of leeway in adding more protection. Although..."

If Ves submitted his design in a blind duel, he'd never overburden his mech. Now that he saw what his opponent was working on, he could avoid the pitfall of choosing an overly specific loadout only to risk stumbling on a direct counter.

"I don't need to stick to conventional limits. The best way to endure a missile bombardment is to put as much layers in between the missiles and the mech."

His memories provided him with some inspiration. He especially revisited the concept of modular armor. Naturally, he had no time to replace his mech's armor with a modular system, nor did he wish to do so in the first place. Instead, he referred to the system's premise.

"The goal of a modular armor system is to treat armor as a disposable product. When necessary, it's better to discard a spent piece of armor in exchange for a reduction in weight."

He could apply this concept to a shield. He wanted to design an incredibly thick shield, one so heavy that it had to be supported by wheels or tracks if possible. Who cared if his mech slowed to a crawl. He'd bet it was still a bit faster than that rickety centaur mech on even terrain.

After regaining his spirit, Ves implemented his crazy idea in the hour that remained. Even if Floyd stopped his tinkering and puzzled out his intentions, there was nothing much his opponent could do to respond.

Ves obfuscated his work by designing only a small portion of his shield. Like a pre-assembled block, if he duplicated its shape, he could easily stack them together, though without alloy compression. Before he did so, his opponent laughed at its small and weak-looking shape.

"Hahaha! That little shield isn't big enough for what I have in store for you! Even if you used alloy compression, it still won't stop my firepower!"

Again, Ves questioned Floyd's sanity. If he stopped laughing so much, he might notice the camouflaged attachment points at the shield's extremities. Despite his bewilderment, he kept pretending to work on something else.

The last minute initiated some frantic changes. Both Ves and Floyd sped up and added a lot of new parts. Ves kept one eye on Floyd's actions while he implemented his own plan.

As predicted, Floyd added a melee weapon to his mech. Instead of a spear, he chose to add a halberd instead. As for the missile loadout, he went for an even mix of high explosive and kinetic payloads. The kinetic missiles excelled at damaging shields and slow-moving mechs, while the explosive ones fared better in damaging lighter and more exposed components.

Just as Floyd finished his additions, he took a taunting look at his opponent's workshop. His grin vanished. "Impossible! That's impossible!"

Ves removed the useless fittings meant to cover up the attachment points on his shield. He scanned the design and duplicated its very basic shape with the most basic materials. The virtual workshop allowed him to duplicate any material as long as it wasn't too complex. The shield barely qualified, but Ves successfully duplicated a handful of identical plates with simpler materials.

With the quickest speed, he clicked them all together, forming an oversized rectangular barrier. The main point of the shield was its layered composition. If the front layer became too tattered, the mech could easily detach it by prying off a few locks. With up to four different layers, the wide and tall shield provided enough bulk to withstand the centaur mech's entire missile complement.

Naturally, his mech could not even lift a big and heavy shield without cracking its arms. To support the shield's alignment, he hastily added a couple of unpowered wheels to the bottom. They served no function other than to bear the shield's weight and make it easier to push forward on flat terrain. If the mech came across more complex terrain, its pilot could choose to discard some layers in order to carry it like a conventional shield.

"This is cheating! Anyone! My opponent is cheating!"

Sadly, Floyd received no response. The virtual workshop scanned both designs and approved them without comment. Ves ignored his blubbering and sat down on the field. He worked for eight straight hours. He deserved a rest.

"Ladies and gentlemen, now that you have submitted your designs, we will see whether they can vanquish the opposition. In the interest of finishing this round in a prompt fashion, we will speed up the simulations so that we can receive the results before the hour is over. Let the duels commence!"

The virtual workshop environments vanished into thin air. Instead, a new set of projections appeared. A projection of the automated duels appeared in front of every pairing. As expected, each duel was held in a completely random environment. Some fought in a city, while others fought in a forest. A couple of duels even took place on a low-gravity moon, which threw both AIs off-whack.

Ves and Floyd's first duel took place in a fairly average desert environment. The hot environment favored the medium mech, as it mainly relied on its melee weapons to deal damage. The centaur mech had to watch its heat buildup, and it showed as its AI chose to slow down its rate of fire when it spotted its humanoid opponent.

"Fucking idiot! Shoot faster! Empty those launchers!"

The fast-forwarding made it difficult to judge what was going on, but Ves saw that his mech held an overwhelming advantage. The relatively flat terrain facilitated the jury-rigged wheels. His unnamed mech sluggishly advanced, making sure to hide as much of its profile behind the giant shield.

"What kind of shit-for-brains did the LIT put in my mech! It's not even moving a lot!"

Even the centaur's piloting AI thought it was a bad idea to test his mech's speed limits. Floyd underestimated the importance of his mech's integrity. With all the crude additions, it was a wonder his mech didn't fall apart.

The medium mech started to speed up. It stoically endured the missile bombardments and discarded the damaged layers when they were spent. When the shield lost half of its mass, the mech was able to speed up and cut short the centaur's lethargic bombardment.

The halberd proved to be a little troublesome, but the centaur AI lacked familiarity with the weapon. In the end, the medium mech discarded the shield and flanked the centaur from behind. The centaur could not keep up with the change in direction and got its rear area wrecked.

Ves won the first match. "Only ninety-nine to go."

The second match took place in one of the worst environments for his design. The hilly forest terrain impeded the mech's oversized shield. After a few minutes of fruitless fumbling, it finally learned to detach most of its layers and regain its mobility. After a few minutes of patient hunting, the centaur finally revealed itself as it fired a sudden missile salvo from a hill.

The centaur easily prevailed. It leveraged its height advantage as much as possible while the medium mech suffered from discarding most of its shielding.

The duels sped up after the first couple of matches. Ves already determined the overall trend. As long as his mech was able to maintain its shield, it won as it easily blocked every missile in its way. The centaur grew smarter by seeking the most complex environments to make its stand.

Thus, the first couple of victories favored Ves, but after the twentieth duel he lost his lead. The AI pilots both adjusted their tactics while responding better to their opponent's actions.

The medium mech learned to angle its shields and spread out the impacts.

The centaur mech aimed its laser rifle at the wheels attached to the shield.

On and on the duels progressed, until finally the last one finished.

"Yes!" Ves yelled and raised his fist. He prevailed over Floyd by a comfortable ratio of 58 wins to 42 losses. He qualified for the next round while Floyd was sent packing. While the Leemar graduate possessed some solid skills, he lost his cool and tried to one-up his adversary by turning midway. If not for his questionable decisions, he might have reached further.

After his excitement cooled, Ves faced his opponent and held out his hand. "It was a good duel."

Floyd spat downwards and turned his back on Ves without a word.

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While it felt good giving Floyd a mental smack, Ves knew he provoked an angry bear. If the stakes weren't so high, he'd rather take a step back. Now, his pressure increased. He was not content to take second place this time. He had to dazzle the audience and mesmerize at least one of the masters present.

"The road ahead has just begun. If I take Floyd as a standard, then I will only encounter tougher opponents."

Plenty of contestants wanted to dispute the results. Most of them mainly blamed the AI pilots for failing to unearth their mech's potential. Most of the complaints came from the fliers.

"You cheated! There's no way a nobody like you can beat my awesome mech!"

Sadly for Floyd, no one cared about his accusations. While a student supervisor arrived to address his results, he had no leeway in giving the alumni from Leemar a helping hand.

"According to the logs, both mechs are designed within acceptable boundaries. Mechanically, there's nothing fishy there, even if both of you made some unconventional choices."

"What about my crappy AI pilot? I obviously got a retard for a pilot!"

The supervisor shook his head. "Every mech in every simulation started with the same AI pilot. They all have the same capacity for learning and adaptation. According to the logs, the AI pilot for your centaur mech peaked midway. It couldn't figure out new strategies. As for your opponent's medium mech, its AI pilot constantly unearthed new things to try."

In other words, one mech provided slightly more options than the other mech. There was a limit how diverse a pilot could utilize the tools at hand. The main factor that limited the centaur was its crippling slow speed. The lack of speed narrowed its options to purely offensive and defensive stances.

As for the design submitted by Ves, the AI pilot was able to take the initiative in most battles due to its freedom of movement. It could charge straight ahead or it could take it slow by flanking its opponent. This was actually the main reason why heavy mechs never achieved dominance. Without sufficient mobility, a mech was nothing different than a sitting duck.

After verifying the validity of the results, the supervisor took the devastated Floyd away. Sadly, some of the losers kept making a fuss, though they were easily taken care off with a few stun bolts. Ves couldn't believe how many designers broke down and acted like babies.

"I always thought it took discipline and constant study to become a mech designer. I have no idea how these rich kids managed to graduate with a degree in mech design."

"Pff. It's genetics man." A fellow walker supplied. "Everyone knows their parents constantly injected their kids with genetic boosts. They take 1 hour to learn a theory that regular people like us take a day to understand. There's different injections available that can strengthen your muscles, make you smarter or even remove the need for sleep."

That was fairly new to Ves. "I thought those kinds of things are illegal or don't even exist."

"To commoners, they might as well be fairy tales. It's a conspiracy the upper echelon is happy to keep under wraps. They even banded together in order to suppress any credible mention about these boosts. If you don't believe me, then try and uploading a post. I can guarantee you'll be arrested quicker than you can take a leak."

Ves almost didn't believe it if not for one thing. Had he already taken some 'injections' himself? When he recalled the few times he ingested the System's attribute candies, he measurably grew stronger in a couple of areas. Was the System messing with his genes each time he ate a candy?

The news shook his view of how the galaxy worked. He always treated those rumors about genetic tampering as air, but perhaps he underestimated the progress humanity made over the years in terms of human genetics.

"Do you have any proof?"

"Pff! Of course not! I'd be dead if I had anything. I've only been able to learn a bit because I have a moneybags for a friend."

As today's program came to an end, everyone slowly left the parade ground. As Ves tried to keep an eye out on Dietrich and his cat, he reconsidered the matter of upgrading his attributes. Now that he developed some decent skills, perhaps it was time to upgrade his intelligence.

"If I had another windfall of DP, I can afford to splurge on a couple of intelligence candies."

The price of a candy corresponded with the height of his current attributes.

Any attribute between 1.0 and 2.0 could be upgraded by buying a candy worth 1,000 times the desired height. For example, with his current intelligence of 1.2, if he wanted to raise it to 1.3, he'd have to spend 1,200 DP.

If he wanted to raise his intelligence to 2.0, he'd have to spend a cumulative amount of 13200 DP in total.

After reaching the threshold of 2.0, the price of the attribute candies multiplied by 10,000, meaning that he'd have to spend 21,000 DP to upgrade his intelligence to 2.1.

The price of upgrading an attribute grew to stupendous heights the more it growed. At his current level, Ves had no way of earning enough DP to upgrade his intelligence to a meaningful level where it could make a difference.

That was why up to now, he always emphasized the acquisition of skills. They provided concrete benefits at reasonable costs. Ves always planned to upgrade his intelligence and perhaps some other attributes in the long term. Despite his envy, he maintained his current stance. At most, he'd upgrade his intelligence by a couple of points so that he wouldn't come across as stupid when faced with a master.

Ves sighed when he thought about his empty DP reserve. All of his plans meant nothing if he didn't gain another source of DP. With both his virtual and real universe sales stalling, he had no way of buying anything anything from the System to help him out in the competition. He had to rely on himself to reach the top.

He only became a little disappointed when the Mech Designer System became less unique. The rich and powerful had their own ways of getting ahead even without a supposed reality-altering software program.

Ves finally found Dietrich near the exit. The pilot yawned as he greeted his friend.

"Man, this is the most boring competition I've ever watched. There's nothing exciting about watching thousands of nerds geeking out over a couple of stupid exams. The only part that interested me was the duels, but it finished way too quickly for me to enjoy."

"Haha, it might not be very exciting for you, but for mech designers like me, it's been a thrill."

"Are you sure you mech designers are still human? I'm not surprised if you've all been replaced by aliens."

Without a technical background, pilots like Dietrich could never appreciate these kinds of events. Ves enjoyed the opportunity to cash against his peers. Watching his skills grow better from a boring Status was much less tangible than winning an actual match against a living person. It made all of his improvements look real.

Different from before, the LIT erected temporary housing for the remaining visitors. Each modular apartment came with all of the basic necessities, and were fairly secure as well. The temporary housing area became more crowded with the heavy security presence. In order to prevent improper actions such as bribery or sabotage, the entire place turned stiflingly safe.

Dietrich whistled in appreciation when he saw how many mechs patrolled the perimeter. "Leemar sure takes a lot of effort to secure a simple housing area."

"I'm glad they take our security seriously. I've already offended one bastard from the Coalition. There's no telling what he'll do behind my back."

As Dietrich lacked any understanding of mech design, he wasn't really able to follow the mech duel in the second round. When Ves explained how he triumphed over his opponent, he snorted.

"Bah, what a git. This guy refuses to admit his loss because he's not as good as you. That should be the end of the matter."

Ves truly hoped he had no more encounters with Floyd, but he vaguely suspected he might not be so forgiving.

After an uneventful night, the contestants returned to the fields. Out of the fifty thousand participants, only five thousand remained. The final round of the qualifiers aimed to cut down their numbers to a measly five hundred. The attrition was horrible but necessary in order to make the main event presentable.

Just like last time, Professor Marshall addressed the crowd. "Today is the day where we will decide the final 500. Who among you will be lucky enough to perform in front of a crowd of the most eminent figures in the mech industry? Who among you will be projected in the homes of every household in the Komodo Star Sector? The chance to gain fame and make your name known to trillions of people is in your grasp. Are you not excited?"

Every mech designer cheered. They all fought hard to make themselves more prominent. Even if they failed to catch the interest of a master, the trip was still worth it if they became a household name. Fame was a precious resource that accelerated any mech designer's career.

"Now, let me begin with the third round. This time, the format revolves around teamwork. As you all know, mech designers often work together with other designers when involved in a major project. The best and most widely used designs are always a collection of each designer's best results. No mech designer in existence claims to be the best at everything, though the Polymath comes awfully close."

Everyone laughed a little. Clair Gramza was an absolute genius with a terrifying level of intelligence. The amount of fields she specialized in could fill a whole data chip. Ves secretly wondered if the Star Designer bathed in intelligence gene boosts since birth.

"This time, we wish to see some cooperation among you. Everyone will be grouped into teams of ten. Your task is to collectively design a single mech, which will be matched against every mech your rival groups have come up with once. This time the AI pilots will not remember their previous results, so all the matches are absolutely consistent. The top fifty groups with the most wins will collectively qualify for the main competition tomorrow!"

Everyone gaped at the competition format. Working together wasn't unheard of. Usually, small groups of mech designers often came together to produce designs intended for mass production.

The problem was that when the number of people surpassed five, these groups often became unwieldy. There were too many cooks in the kitchen. Everyone had their own ideas. If some people shared the same specialties, they could easily clash. It was a nightmare trying to corral everybody even if their thoughts aligned.

"Now you may be wondering how you can control so many designers in a single group. Well, that's for you to solve. You can have one designer do the work while the other nine do nothing. You can have each designer spend one hour with the design interface before letting another take over when their time is up. You can partner with someone strong and beat up those you disagree with. As long as no one requires medical attention, we will not intervene."

"That's barbaric!"

"Hah! I'm the captain of the boxing club! If you don't want a bruise, you better acknowledge who's boss!"

Ves had never heard of such an absurd ruleset for a group contest. Even physical intimidation wasn't ruled out.

"Remember! The only design our simulations will accept is the one submitted by the group's designated terminal. We won't care if others block you from accessing the terminal, or if your entire group has argued so much that your design is incomplete. What's on the terminal will be the only thing that's approved. Now, find your group mates and make some new friends!"

A complex series of projections guided everyone together in groups of ten. Ves quickly met an eclectic group of designers. Seven of them were fliers, indicating their deep backgrounds. Four of them even wore the LIT's alumni uniform. Ves was only one of three who came from a less affluent background. He quickly stared at the young man and woman who remained on the ground.

"Hi. I'm Ves Larkinson, from the Bright Republic."

The woman glowered at him. "Missy Phillips. Vesia Kingdom."

His smile dropped a little when he heard that. Of all the possible teammates, the organizers grouped him with a girl from an enemy state.

Sensing the tension between the two, the remaining guy tried to break the tension. "Hello everyone. The name's Clark McCullum, and I'm born and raised in the Coalition."

Both of them shook their hands with Clark. Neither Ves nor Missy wanted to mess up their chances by having a fruitless argument over their national pride.

"If you plebs could kindly shut up, us real designers are about to work." A bossy woman called from above.

Neither of the three walkers appreciated her tone, though they dared not raise their voices. The woman was one of the graduates from Leemar. She also sported the most symbols on her uniform, which meant she earned plenty of achievements during her time as a student.

Still, Ves did not want to be crowded out by the elites. He summed up his courage and asked, "Who are you?"

"You have the pleasure of addressing Cynthia Barakovski. Perhaps you have heard of BF Integrated?"

BF Integrated was one of the Coalition's heavy industry manufacturers. They also dipped their toes into mech production. The sales from their mech division easily surpassed a trillion cols.

After a few seconds, Missy's eyes widened. She recognized her name. "You're that Cynthia Barakovski who reached the top hundred in the last iteration of the Junior Rimward Games!"

While Ves still didn't recognize her name, the mere mention of the Junior Rimward Games was sufficient to overawe everyone present. The Junior Rimward Games was the most prestigious sports competition in the galaxy for everyone under twenty-five. They expanded into non-physical sports such as mech design a long time ago.

Cynthia soaked up the attention with a smile. "You can rest that we will easily qualify with my presence. As long as you don't disturb me, I can easily design a killer mech."

Both Clark and Missy practically had stars in their eyes. Ves bewilderingly stared at their worshipping gazes. He never really paid much attention to the massive Rimward Games, let alone the smaller Junior edition. He could only stand in place and witness Cynthia bewitching everyone into giving her space to design their group's mech.

While Ves did not doubt Cynthia's accomplishments, it did not change that they were supposed to work as a group. Those that survived so far all had their strengths. As someone aiming to reach the finals, Ves believed even his own input should be valuable. He was not content to risk his chances by leaving it up to a stranger.

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Their group was already off to a quick start. Cynthia Barakovski rolled over most of her fellow designers with her immense accomplishments. Even Ves became almost convinced. If not for his stellar confidence in himself, he might have let the elite Leemar graduate have her way.

The workshop's terminal rested on the ground, forcing her to descend. Just as she approached the console, Ves stepped forward and held a hand.

"Please wait a moment, Miss Barakovski."

Her eyes pierced his own with a disgruntled intensity. "You are in my way."

Okay, this conversation already went downhill. Ves quickly adjusted his suggestion. "If I may add, I'm sure that with your accomplishments, you are more than qualified to take the position of lead designer. However, I'm pretty sure everyone else can contribute their own insights to our design. Are you willing to let us provide you with some suggestions?"

Sadly, Barakovski treated his suggestions like air. She contemptuously flipped her hair and turned around.

One of the fliers sank down in order to block Ves from pursuing her. "Our princess doesn't have time to entertain third-rate peasants like you. Now run along and play in the dirt. Your participation is unnecessary."

The other fliers closed ranks and made their stances clear. Ves almost couldn't believe how fast they threw away their pride as designers. He turned around to ask for help from his fellow walkers, only to see Missy and Clark turning their heads as if they were blind and deaf.

"Ves, let's not rock the boat. We only have twelve hours to design a mech. A future star like Barakovski can easily come up with a complete design."

"Yes, if we distract her too much, we'll only be ruining our group. To be honest, I'm barely scraping by. I'm not good enough to compete at this level anymore. Why not sit back and let her carry us past the qualifiers? Do you know how much of an honor it is to be part of the five hundred who will show up on stage tomorrow?"

Both of them came up with reasonable excuses. Even some of the fliers agreed with them. After being ganged up by practically his entire group, Ves had no choice but to back down.

"Alright, we'll see, but if she makes a mistake, I won't hesitate to call it out."

Naturally, everyone ignored those words. How could a nobody like Ves even compare against a prominent designer like Miss Barakovski? She represented the entire Friday Coalition in an immense competition that spanned a quarter of the galaxy. Even if she barely reached the top 100, the level of competition in these events was staggering.

Nevertheless, Ves thought it was not wise to put all of their eggs in a single basket. Even the disciples of a master never claimed to proficient in every field. However, he had no means of forcing the issue. He reluctantly stood back and allow Miss Barakovksi to do her wish without further objections.

The young lady started her design process by picking the basic frame. She confidently skipped the medium mechs and went straight for a light mech. Such a choice took a lot of daring due to the lack of options. Barakovski's other choices made it clear that she wanted to design a skirmisher.

If Ves was in charge, he'd pick a safe and boring medium mech. Sadly, he could only watch as Barakovski went all-in on her build. She intended to design a mech reminiscent of his very old Nomad.

Certain types of skirmishers excelled in different situations. Barakovski's skirmisher was obviously built for endurance. Fuel cells took most of the limited available capacity. To complement her choice, she chose to utilize a low-intensity fuel-injected power reactor to provide her mech with a steady amount energy. Most of this energy would be spent on powering up the mech's only weapons, a pair of lightweight wrist-mounted laser cannons.

Ves frowned at her decisions. He had a decent amount of experience in working with these kinds of systems. The wrist-mounted laser cannons was especially tricky. A light mech's arms were not supposed to incorporate such an intensive weapon system. One stray shot could disable the entire mechanism.

To her credit, Barakovski knew what she was doing. She revealed her proficiency in metallurgy and physics when she stripped the light mech's armor and painstakingly designed an entirely new compressed armor scheme that even Ves wanted to praise. She personally fabricated all of the compressed armor plating with practiced skill.

"She's a true prodigy designer." Missy uttered next to him. She practically gazed at the elite Leemar graduate like she was a goddess. "That armor is truly divine. I could never in a million years fabricate such pieces without slipping up."

Barakovski evidently mastered assembly as well. The way she smoothly interacted with the terminal and the virtual workshop's tools gave Ves the impression that she spent many hours in an actual mech workshop. Even though he was not a slouch, his System-enhanced skills lacked the genuine fluency of actual experience.

As the alloy compression took a very long time, Ves started to take a look around. Curiously, his vision of the projections of the other groups was blocked. He had no way of determining their designs. Yet he could still watch and hear what they were doing, as if the organizers wanted to let others see how their rivals tackled the issue of teamwork.

"Well, this is a fine mess." A burly designer commented as he spat out some blood. His clothes were disarrayed. Six other designers were sprawled on the ground, each of them nursing a lot of bruises.

"You did good." A handsome prince-like figure said as he clapped his lackey's back. "Now that we've gotten rid of the riffraff, we can get rid of this trash design and start over with something competent."

At another side, a group that happened to consist of seven walkers bravely tried to fend off the three fliers who disagreed with their actions. Their antigrav clothes gave them an advantage in the air, but their numbers were too feeble to reserve the situation. Their constant harassment slowed down the design process and caused them to spend most of their time staring at each other.

On the flipside, at least half of the other groups got along cordially, if not entirely harmoniously. The best groups often counted an abundance of Leemar graduates on their midst. Their solidarity and familiarity with each other gave them a united front against their scattered groupmates. The weight of their school also counted for a lot.

He spotted no genuine cooperation between all ten members of a group. Even if some of them held a similar opinion to Ves, others dragged them down. His own situation was hardly unique. Practically every group had at least one elite designer that wanted to take charge. The meek and the hanger-ons pressured the others in order to ensure they could get their free rides.

While Ves did not claim to be the most observant participant in the competition, he still smelled a conspiracy of sorts. From the size of the groups, to the placement of the terminals, everything had been set in place to encourage conflict instead of cooperation. He wouldn't be surprised if the group composition had been fudged as well.

"Really, when every group is led by an elite, this round will simply devolve into a series of solo duels."

This meant that every group was back to square one. Of the five-hundred lead designers, only fifty of them would survive. Even if someone like Barakovski was a cut above the rest, he did not wish to gamble on a ten percent odds.

Having concluded that this was actually a subtle trap, Ves still had to come up with a solution. He turned back to Missy and Clark. They sat on the ground as if they were a pair of bored little children. He quietly approached them and caught their attention.

"Only seven hours to go before we get our free pass. What's up?"

Ves drew closer and explained his analysis. He expected the two to get their heads back in the game.

Instead, they looked at him as if he was a troll. "Really now. That's kind of clever. But what difference does it makes if every group is similar? It's not like we can contribute to the design."

"Do you really believe that? Where is your pride as a designer?"

The two had no fight in their eyes. Ves really thought the speech by the old guy at the start had been wasted on these freeloaders. How could they expect to get ahead in the mech industry if they didn't fight for their jobs?

"Okay, you two can stay and sit on your asses for all I care. I'll figure out a solution on my own."

Perhaps if Ves kept at it, he might have persuaded the pair to back him up. However, when he looked at their soulless gazes, he gave up. These two lazy bastards deserved to rot for the rest of their lives.

He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he stood to the side for now. Ves had no reason to interfere as long as Barakovski worked flawlessly.

Different from Ves, Barakovski started from the outside and slowly worked inwards. Besides selecting all of the basic components such as the engines and power reactor, she spent most of her time trying to harmonize the armor system and wrist lasers. For a light mech, these two components were of prime importance that had the most direct influence to the mech's performance.

Frontloading these components meant that Barakovski wanted to budget out her time. For example, if she was forced to spend too much time on the armor system, she could choose to spend a little less time on the internals.

And indeed, Barakovski spent a lot of hours just to optimize the wrist lasers. If Ves wanted to do a proper job, he'd need to spend at least two days to get it working right. The woman acted too much like a perfectionist and kept fiddling with the most minute components.

Ves sneaked a little closer and coughed a little. "We only have five or so hours left. In the interest of completing the design, I suggest you start working on the internals."

"What do you know?!" One of her self-promoted guards spoke as he floated downwards. "Those laser cannons are our only weapons. If our lady's time is cut short, who knows if they'll malfunction?"

"Yeah, and who cares about optimizing the internals anyway? It's just a bunch of cables and muscles. There's hardly any complexity involved in uncrossing a couple of wires."

The comment from the second goon made it clear to Ves that he had no idea what he was talking about. Having worked with the awful mess that was the Caesar Augustus, he knew more than anyone else in the group the fragility of a crowded and unoptimized internal structure.

With everyone set against him, Ves had no way of remedying the situation. Barakovski ignored his advice and kept tinkering with the wrist lasers. An entire hour went by until she finally put down her work.

"I'm finally done with these laser cannons. The hard part is over." Barakovski sighed as she paused in her work. One of her group mates brought her some refreshments, which she enjoyed with relish. "Alright, there's only four hours left to go. The rest is easy."

This time, Ves watched as Barakovski started with the internals. Unlike her earlier performance, Ves cringed when she made a number of shortcuts and other questionable decisions. It became clear to him that her mechanics had not reached the journeyman level.

When Ves suggested she was making a mistake, the entire group looked at him with contempt.

"Really now. Where did you study? Rittersberg? What no name planet is that?"

"The Bright Republic is the backwoods of our Komodo Star Sector. I don't believe a barren place like that knows more about mechanics than Leemar."

No one acknowledged his expertise in this area. He stood at a crossroads. If he did nothing, then he might miss one of the greatest chances of his life. There was too much at stake.

"Maybe I'm thinking too much." Ves whispered to himself.

He waited until the group let down their guard. Once everyone turned back to the terminal, Ves sprinted forwards and brushed aside the bodies in his way.

"Hey!"

"What the?!"

"STOP!"

Once Ves came close, he tackled Barakovski to the ground. Both of them dove through the projection and landed harshly on the ground. He moved around her body and held her neck in a chokehold-like position. Sadly, he hadn't figured out what to do after that. He had never attended any close-quarters combat classes.

After several seconds went by, it became clear that none of the other designers had any clue either. They all look paralyzed as Ves seemed to transform into a crazy beast ready to devour an innocent maiden.

"Unhand me scoundrel!" Barakovski hissed as she moaned in pain. The tackle came unexpected and her landing was hard. Her soft, boneless body wiggled against Ves in a weak, helpless fashion. Whatever gene boosts she received had not been spent on improving her physique.

Both sides were stuck at an impasse. Ves originally wanted to knock Barakovski unconscious, but he was afraid of dealing more damage than necessary. He already offended her enough.

"Look, can we talk about this?"

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Carrying

No one made any rash moves. Ves held Barakovski tight against his body. He hadn't embraced a lot of girls in his life, so the feeling of having a pretty girl in your arms distracted him. The other males in the group appeared outraged while the girls looked scandalized.

"You bastard mongrel! That's the class princess you've injured!"

"Your dead now! BF Integrated isn't a company you can offend!"

The commotion even attracted the attention of their neighbors. Most of the conflicts happened at the start of the design period. Ves surprised everyone by making his coup with only a few hours remaining until they had to submit their design.

"Don't push me!" Ves growled angrily while he tightened the hold on Miss Barakovsi's slender neck. He attempted to channel a bit of his state of mind when he fought back against the pirates on the Saint Hearst. The designers drew back in fear as if scalded by hot water. They were as green as the flowers in a garden.

"You guys are trying my patience. Can you stop ignoring me all the time and listen to my suggestions?"

The eight other designers stood helplessly as they remained undecided. Ves was glad to see that none of the people here had a clue on how to liberate Barakovski. It seemed like every mech designer received only perfunctory self defense training during school.

As the mech designers argued about, the hostage had enough. "Quiet! We are not a brood of headless chickens. We are mech designers. Let us talk it over rationally."

"There's no value in negotiating with that brute!"

No one treated her latest words seriously. They all thought she just wanted to free herself from her captor's clutches. While the mech designers kept bleating and insulting Ves, he lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Look, I'm sure you're a great mech designer, but it's clear you haven't specialized in mechanics. I've got a much deeper foundation in this field."

"Huh, is that so?" Barakovski huffed as she tried to untangle herself from his grasp. Her movements only rubbed her slim body harder against Ves. "While I might not have received any tutoring from a Master, I can assure you that I've achieved some very good grades in my mechanics classes."

Ves shook his head. "This is the big leagues. We're not in class anymore. Have you attempted to develop your mechanics since your graduation?"

"Hmph! It's only a few months. Are you any better?"

"As a matter of fact, I've devoured three journeyman textbooks on my way to the Leemar System." Ves smirked. "And I haven't skimmed over them either. I understand the essence of all of them pretty well. If you'd just let me access the terminal, I can show you how much better our mech can perform."

Barakovski paused a little at that. Her expression still radiated skepticism. "You really claim to master not one, but three entire journeyman-level books?"

"Yup, and they're all credible books from credible authors. Does Takanata, Ulmer, Smith, James, Coventry and Lin ring a bell to you?"

While some of those surnames were common, every mech designer should be able to link them to the most renowned academics in mech design.

"I see." She said flatly as she reconsidered her stance. "Even I can't claim to master three journeyman books this fast. You're either boasting shamelessly or you may be an undiscovered genius."

"I prefer to think myself as the latter."

Barakovski giggled a little, surprising Ves. Even in such a tense situation, she displayed no fear. He even suspected that her anger had already subsided. She sighed a little and leaned back against his skinny chest.

"I don't know which one describes you best, but I suppose an apology is expected. I'm sorry for disregarding your perspective. If you really do claim to be a genius in mechanics, then there's little harm in letting you work on my design. I'm tired anyway. I'm not at my best anymore."

Truly, Ves enjoyed talking with intelligent people. Barakovski was the only person in their group who actually behaved as if they graduated from college instead of from a pigsty. He had more than enough of the overweening pride of these entitled Coalition citizens.

Deciding to trust her words, Ves let her go. Both of them quickly rose up from the ground and dusted off some of the dirt and grass that clung on their clothes. The other designers stopped arguing when they saw that Ves and Barakovski acted cordially.

"Did you give up, loser?"

"Be silent!" Barakovski barked and crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, we don't have the time to squabble like children. While my friend here was a little extreme, we've talked over our issues and I've decided to give him a chance."

"What?!"

"He'll ruin our design!"

She clapped her hands, causing them to quickly shut up. "Do I have to repeat what I said? Just shut up if you have nothing useful to say. I'm just as skeptical as you are, but this matter directly concerns our chances of passing this round. If Ves here is truly better than me in mechanics, then he deserves a chance to contribute. That goes for all of you as well. I've been negligent in considering your skills. If you've been holding out on us, now is the time to step forward and make suggestions."

Sadly, the entire crowd disappointed her by remaining silent. No one had the guts to claim they knew better than Barakovski. Besides Ves, it really appeared that none of their group specialized in mechanics. It truly was a bitter state of affairs when almost everyone in the group wanted to sit back and sleep their way through the qualifiers.

With her tentative blessing, Ves approached the terminal slowly. If anyone wanted to jump on him, he'd be ready. Fortunately, no one had the spine to contest their intentions, so Ves reached the controls without hindrance.

"There are a number of things that can be improved that I can point out immediately." Ves began to explain in the hope of getting everyone's acceptance. "First, the engines. While Barakovski chose to go with a conventional high-efficiency engine model, our mech's loadout is a bit light due to the inclusion of compressed armor. This gives us a bit more leeway with regards to capacity, which in my opinion is best spent on a more powerful engine model."

"That will make our design less efficient. A powerful engine burns more fuel." Barakovski pointed out.

"That's true, but remember what kind of battles our mech will face. We're sending our design off to a series of one-on-one duels. Do we really need to stuff so much endurance in our design when it's only expected to last one single encounter?"

"Our mech is built to outlast any opponent. There's no such thing as too much endurance."

"That's true, but I also think that there's a point where sacrificing power in favor of endurance isn't worth it anymore. Our light mech's top speed is below average for an endurance-focused design."

When Barakovski stopped arguing, Ves took that as permission to replace the engines. He chose to install a slightly more powerful engine model from the list of available components. Naturally, the new engines also added more weight, but the additional power was worth it as its top speed gained a substantial boost.

"What else do you want to change?"

Ves started reversing some of her decisions and worked methodically on areas that haven't been touched. Though Barakovski never admitted defeat, she tacitly allowed Ves to implement his own decisions. With his intervention, the integrity of their design gained a massive increase. The mech's performance slowly stabilized. The chance of suffering critical damage decreased due to his skillful work.

In the end, Ves monopolized the remaining hours of the clock. Even when Barakovski showed some discontent at some of his decisions, she kept letting his run amuck. He appreciated her inaction. Somehow, he even suspected she only maintained a negative attitude in order to placate the other group members. The others still did not trust Ves even if he implemented better solutions than anything they could come up with themselves.

"Five minutes remaining! Please finalize your designs!"

Ves already finished his design. After checking over the entire mech once again, he stepped back and gestured at Barakovski. "I'm done now. You can check over our entire design if you want."

She shook her head. "I've followed your every move. Nothing you've done is egregious enough for me to intervene. Besides, even if I want to change something, there's hardly any time left on the clock."

Indeed, as the counter ticked down, many groups had laid down their work. Not all of them were as relaxed. Some groups that suffered from extensive infighting kept fiddling with the terminal.

Even now Ves could see that a handful of groups hadn't even completed their designs. They were the abject failures in this round. He admired the LIT for coming up with such a deep and challenging test.

While working together as ten to come up with a single design sounded simple, the reality proved much different. The audience had a field day when arguments and fistfights broke out. All of the mech pilots and bodyguards sitting on the stands painfully looked away when these nerdy engineer types showed off their pathetic skills.

Only a few designers had a passable proficiency in self-defense and martial arts. Those who paid attention to their physical training dominated their groups, though whether their design skills was just as good as their fighting prowess was another matter.

If any groups understood the essence of this round and genuinely worked together as ten, Ves had no clue. At least he hadn't seen any enlightened teamwork among the groups surrounding his own.

His heart pumped faster as the duels commenced. Just like the last round, the projections sped up the simulations in order to save time. As Ves had worked intensively for a couple of hours straight, he had no energy left to concentrate on the action. The duels fast-forwarded so quickly that Ves hardly registered each win and loss.

"Impressive work." Barakovski praised as she sat down next to him. "It looks like we're winning most of our matches."

"Is that so?" His anticipation grew as he tried to register their mech's performance. It did manage to dance around almost all of the opponents it encountered. It only ran into a wall when it faced a flying opponent. "That's great! We're winning!"

In actual fact, their mech performed so well that it constantly climbed higher in the giant ranking projection. Half of the designers were too scared to watch the duels. Instead, they kept their eyes peeled on the ranking list. Every time some groups changed positions, the designers groaned or cheered.

The third round finally ended in a crushing victory for Ves and Barakovski's mech. While their light mech might be lacking in firepower and armor, its prodigious mobility and impressive endurance allowed it to keep teasing around any opponents it encountered. It only lost when matched against its hard counters, such as sprinters, fliers and marksmen. Any other mechs proved too sluggish to match the nimble mech.

"Yes! We've ranked 16 out of 500! We've qualified!" Ves cheered as he saw the final results. Their group only had to reach the top 50 to pass. Reaching the sixteenth rank meant they possessed ample strength to compete in the main event that started in the following day.

Barakovski suddenly glomped him in order to give him a quick hug. "Thank you! Without your help, our mech couldn't have lasted this long."

"No problem. I'm glad you gave me a chance."

Both of them quickly separated. Ves coughed a little. He hardly ever got close to a woman. Her closeness made him a bit uncomfortable.

"I guess we might encounter each other again in the days ahead."

Her smile disappeared. "You're right. I won't show any mercy if I end up on the opposite side."

"The same goes for me. Best of luck then."

They shook hands before parting the group. Now that the qualifiers came to a close, the designers had no reason to stick together with those they despised. Of their entire group, only Clark had the decency to thank him for pulling their group ahead. Missy simply huffed before running off and the other designers flocked to Barakovski, completely ignoring Ves.

"All in a day's work." He sighed and left the fields in order to meet up with Dietrich and Lucky.

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Now that many mech designers and their followers left the premises, the temporary living area received a much-welcomed renovation. The cheap and convenient apartments made way for compact villas that contained room for up to twenty residents. The LIT also stocked the villas with all kinds of amenities, from the rarest teas to the most sophisticated entertainment centers.

Ves only met up with Dietrich briefly before a student guide approached him from above.

"Mister Larkinson?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Good. Our institution invites you to attend a banquet together with your fellow designers."

That sounded interesting. Ves accepted the invitation and followed the guide towards a palatial hall floating in the distance. A floating conveyor brought up guests like Ves who lacked antigrav clothing to the entrance. As he looked around, he noted that a lot more walkers had made it through the qualifiers, though he reasoned that most of them got carried by their groups.

Still, even if they got knocked out tomorrow, they still benefited from the honor of presenting themselves to trillions of people. With their status as a past contestant who made it through the qualifiers, they could leverage that prestige into wealth and status. No one despise the Leemar Institute of Technology, especially its famous annual competition.

The dining hall was resplendently large. Calm and relaxing music extended from the instruments of a handful of musicians. The main tables offered ample space for all the guests. A larger and more extravagant set of tables sat at the front, reserved only for the masters and the most eminent visitors.

Though the hall appeared simple, Ves recognized the precious materials built into the furniture. Even a cannon shell couldn't blast them apart. The subtle extravagance impressed all of the designers who came from humble backgrounds.

A small projection lit up in front of him and guided him to his seat. As a noname designer from a remote third-rate state, his seat was near the end. He looked around and spotted Barakovski near the front.

If their seat positions were ranked, she easily entered the top 20. As for Ves, he was clumped together with the walkers and freeloaders. He sat onto his seat without fuss and waited for the rest to gather around.

"Mr. Larkinson?" A woman called from behind.

He turned around to see a familiar face. "Patricia Schneider?"

He had not expected to meet an acquaintance from the Bright Republic. Patricia had always been an enigmatic figure back when he studied at Rittersberg. She was a genius who excelled in every field. Every classmate sighed that it was a pity that she hadn't gone to study at Leemar or some other famous second-rate institution.

To see her here was a remarkable turnaround. Ves looked around and did not spot any other former participants of the Bright Republic's Fusion Cup.

"Don't bother looking around. We are the only ones from the Republic who qualified." She said and took the seat next to him. "I do have to say that I thought you had potential, you're still a few years too early to compete in Leemar. It's quite a pleasant surprise to see you grow so much."

Unlike any other designer in the room, Ves sensed Patricia had nothing but goodwill to him. He appreciated her willingness to approach him. He missed the casual candor he was used to in the Republic.

"I've grown a lot since the last time we met each other. I always thought my last victory was more due to luck and circumstance. Now that I've caught up in my studies, I'm confident I can beat you in a straight fight."

"Is that so?" Patricia smiled mysteriously at him. "Maybe we can find that out tomorrow. You never know. I still have to pay you back for knocking me out before I reached the finals."

"Haha, I had no choice really. My career was at stake."

Somehow, Ves acted a lot more confident around Patricia. Before, he always saw her as an inviolable goddess, whose talent in mech design outmatched anyone else at the Rittersberg University of Technology. With the help of the System, Ves improved so much that his confidence gained a massive boost. He no longer regarded himself on a lower level to the former class princess.

Patricia raised her eyebrow. "I've heard you've started up a new mech workshop on a rural planet. That takes remarkable courage. Without a large investment, it's very difficult to start an independent business."

"Thankfully the MTA provides independents like me some space to do business. Without the licenses, I have to do everything from scratch."

Licensing became a popular way to earn income from technology in the mech industry upon the establishment of the MTA. The behemoth organization practically coerced every tech company into releasing their non-cutting edge developments to the market. Also, industrial espionage was widespread at that time, so the inventors decided to legalize and monetize the acquisition of their technology.

The distribution of technology eventually benefitted the entire industry. Everyone had access to a uniform minimum standards. No one was forced to reinvent the wheel anymore. It also lowered the barrier of entry to startups like Ves' workshop and restrained larger companies from dominating the industry.

After a few minutes of chitchat, they quieted down when the masters entered the hall. Everyone stared with hopeful eyes at these eminent masters. Of the five masters who expressed interest in taking a new apprentice, only four were present. Master Null had declined to attend, probably in order to avoid letting spies record his gestures. Even the most hidden fugitives can be identified if they showed up in public too many times.

Professor Edith Marshall sat stood up from her seat and addressed the crowd. "Congratulations for making it through the qualifiers. In the last two days, the masters and I have witnessed some remarkable performances. You may be thinking that the qualifying rounds appear too arbitrary and whimsical."

A few designers groaned when they remembered the hellish ordeal of the past two days. The transparent duel and the group duel rounds were especially infuriating for some.

"The truth is, a real designer has to cope with many different circumstances. The strongest mech designer isn't necessarily the one who can output the best designs. As far as we at Leemar are concerned, the ideal mech designer is one who is adaptable. Only by thriving under the most difficult circumstances can you survive the coming storm."

Those ominous words sparked a murmur of concern among the crowd.

"Maybe some of you are already aware of the unrest that is growing in our star sector. We are not alone. The unrest has spread in our neighboring star sectors, and will soon engulf all of human occupied space. Armies will be mobilized and entire mech corps will be thrown into battle. The blood that is about to be spilled will dye many planets red."

A handsome designer sitting near the front of the table stood up, courageously interrupting the dean. "There's a famous saying among designers. The time of war is the time of our lives!"

A lot of people smiled at that, though Ves and Patricia kept a stern face.

"Well said! We develop instruments of war, and only during wartime will we see the most demand for our services. A design is not a static, timeless product. Many times, we receive requests to modify designs in order to cope with a specific planetary environment or to counter a popular model utilized by the enemy. The simulation mech duels you've experienced so far is but a simplification of the great game that is played among the greatest designers."

A few of the masters nodded, giving weight to Professor Marshall's words. With a sophisticated industrial base, any state gained the capability mass-produce or mass-modify a substantial amount of mechs.

If an enemy happened to favor lasers, you could respond by designing a mech that was resilient to directed energy. Such a change could be done in days if the scale was small. At a larger scale, even a massive entity like the Friday Coalition was able to replace and refurbish its entire mech complement in a couple of months.

The capabilities of an industry supported by the full might of an entire state was terrifying. Even the Bright Republic had built up a formidable reserve in order to cope with the coming aggression by the Vesia Kingdom. If war eventually broke out, Ves expected to be drafted in order to put his capabilities to use in supervising such superfactories.

"Before we begin to serve the masterpieces prepared by our cooks, I have one more thing to say. When I look at all of you, I am astounded by the variety of your origins. Some of you have proudly graduated from this school. Others have studied elsewhere in the coalition, while a smaller portion of you have even climbed your way up from more humbler origins."

As one of the few designers from a third-rate state, Ves and Patricia certainly knew the others outnumbered them. The resources and knowledge the designers from a second-rate state enjoyed massively overshadowed the best efforts of a third-rate institution. The two could not even come close.

Ves only gained the qualifications to attend the banquet due to his cheat of a System. He wondered how someone who attended the same university as him managed to keep up with him. Patricia surely had her own secrets in her pocket. That was one of the reasons why Ves tried to strike a friendship with her. As equals of the same strength, they might cooperate some day.

Professor Marshall pressed a button on her comm, causing a projection to light up above the tables. It projected the name of a famous society, underneath of which spelled out numerous benefits.

"The Clifford Society is the Carnegie Group's most exclusive club for mech designers. Our rules allow any designer who passed the qualifiers to join our most esteemed ranks."

Many of those present already knew about the Clifford Society. Anyone present here could apply, though practically only those who were not attached to any major influences actually joined. The real elites already signed exclusive contracts with their backing.

"No matter your origins, affiliations or home state, we are a neutral group that serves the Coalition on behalf of the Carnegie Group. Certainly the other partners of the Coalition have their societies, but we have the most welcoming attitude. As we have attracted numerous influential designers over the years, our reach extends to the entire Komodo Star Sector. No matter where you reside, our Society is able to provide support at any time."

The professor enumerated the many advantages a member enjoyed. They provided an open platform could discuss freely with other members. They offered a small sample of exclusive learning material, some of which could not be found on the galactic net no matter how many cols you were willing to spend. The Society even held many gatherings where different designers met frequently with new faces.

"Are you going to join?" Patricia whispered quietly at his side.

"Yes. This is one of the reasons why I spent all the trouble of travelling to the Coalition. The Clifford Society has an illustrious name in the sector. I don't have a lot of sources I can rely on to advance my design skills. The Society is a viable alternative to the MTA in terms of their library alone."

She shook her head at his words. "Joining the society isn't free. Officially, you'll be prohibited from helping any influence that is hostile to the Friday Coalition. Unofficially, you'll become a man of the Carnegie Group. The other partners of the Coalition will close their doors to you, not to mention you'll be stared at by the Hexadric Hegemony."

"As someone who has tried to go it alone, I quickly learned how vulnerable I am. Any casual conglomerate can wipe me out if they think I'm an irritant. The only way I can get some job security is to attach myself to a greater influence."

Once Professor Marshall finished her speech, everyone's comm units beeped. They all received an extensive package that contained a brochure and a contract for the Clifford Society. They could sign the contract at any time, though they only had a month before it expired.

Some of the people present signed the contract immediately. Others like Ves planned to go over the contract in detail later. Right now he reserved his energy for the competition that started tomorrow.

"Enough talking. Let's dig in!"

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The day of the main event arrived. As a prestigious event witnessed by everyone in the star sector, the LIT did not hold the competition on a plain grassy field. Instead, every participant was brought to a huge and extensive arena complex.

Ves, Dietrich and Lucky looked out from the window of the shuttle. After passing through innumerable islands, they finally came into view of the LIT's sector-famous arena complex. It encompassed as much space as a major city from the Bright Republic. The complex already prepared five hundred stages. The most formidable fabrication and projection technology the Carnegie Group had developed underpinned the systems of this immense competition stage.

Much like the Republic's Young Tiger Exhibition, the competition in Leemar disdained the use of simulations. They only resorted to using simulations during the qualifiers for expedience. Now that they were about to broadcast the design contest to the public, they had to showcase their power. Everytime the LIT held its open competition, the people from the Coalition and many smaller states got to enjoy thrilling fights between real mechs piloted by real mech pilots.

"It's too bad they don't let outsiders like me pilot on your behalf." Dietrich sighed. He truly wanted to share the stage with Ves and make a name for himself in the duelling stages. "It sure sucks to be a pilot."

"Haha. You mech pilots have your own competitions." Ves responded lightly.

Humanity currently loved all things mechs. Though mech designers received their fair share of admiration, the highly technical environment made it hard for laymen to get excited.

In contrast, mech pilots overshadowed shuttle racers in daring and excitement. Even a small place like the Bright Republic held a hundred of different competitions each year. The Young Tigers Exhibition might be a prestigious event, but the ones where veteran pilots showed off their skills attracted ten times more fans. The celebrity culture around piloting massively overshadowed the attention placed on mech designers.

When they came close, Ves witnessed thousands of shuttles descending from orbit. As a major event, the competition attracted millions of spectators. Most of them merely came because they lived nearby. Most likely, only ten percent truly understood what was going on. The rest just came to see the thrilling mech duels.

Leemar only paid attention to the guests of influence. Many industry insiders attended from afar. Ves even guessed that representatives from some of the major corporations in the Republic would be present today. The competition not only gave the foreign talents a chance to shine, it also brought a lot of powerful men and women together from across the sector. Many deals and trades were made under the table during each event.

"Alright, please disembark follow me. It's very crowded today so watch your step!" A guide called out once their shuttle landed.

A massive amount of people converged to the arenas. Dietrich and Lucky had to seperate from Ves again. They followed the majority of the crowd to the spectator entrance. As for Ves, he boarded a smaller shuttle that brought him and his fellow designers to a resting area backstage.

Up on the main stages, a grand spectacle unfolded. The show preceding the competition featured music and dances from the most popular entertainers in the employ of the Carnegie Group. In between, different executives entered the stage to introduce various high tech innovations such as a new engine model or a renewal of a popular consumer electronics device.

"The Group never fails to milk the publicity dry." A designer sitting next to him remarked. "Each year they go through the same process."

Ves nodded in agreement. "It's a good way to distract the audience when we're still in the design phase. A pure mech design competition is pretty boring to the average viewer."

Watching someone design a mech in real time was like watching a sculptor chisel a statue. While the end product might look impressive, no one wanted to go through all the boring parts for hours on end.

"The other partners of the Coalition have their own pageants. This is nothing unusual. Now that we're facing tumultuous times, every power is going all-out in attracting talents. Even the notoriously close-minded Konsu Clan have opened their doors."

"You'd have to be insane to hire yourself to the Konsu Clan. There's hardly any room for promotion for outsiders."

"That's true, but the Konsu Clan is honest about it. You'll only have to sign a twelve year contract. After that, you're free to go."

That sounded like a pretty good deal. If Ves failed to qualify for today's event, he'd probably be forced to crawl in front of their doors and beg them to take him in. Thankfully he fought well enough to avoid such a miserable fate.

After half an hour of advertisement, the mech designers finally entered the stage. They bowed before the millions of people present and the trillions more who watched from their homes. The entire star sector took notice. An executive from the Carnegie Group introduced the rules for the first round.

"Today is the day where we will hold our famous free-for-all! Five hundred mech designers are given access to our proprietary QuickForge instant fabrication systems. These designers can choose to rush out their design or take it slow in order to perfect their work. However, the speed in which they finish their design decides the ranking of their allocated pilot. The faster they finish a design, the better their pilot!"

Leemar's renowned free-for-all format had a lot of strategy behind its simple rules. The round lasted for twelve hours. A mech designer was free to submit his design at any point, but if he took too long, then he will only receive a mediocre pilot. The fastest submission always received the best pilot from a batch of five hundred cadet pilots from an affiliated mech pilot academy.

The QuickForge fabricator was able to produce or modify many simple mech components, giving the illusion that it worked just as fast as a virtual workshop. Naturally, this only applied to obsolete technology. This was the reason why Leemar used the equivalent of 3-star mech components in the qualifiers. The time and cost to fabricate more advanced components grew massively at that point.

These renowned cadet pilots fought on behalf of their mech's designers in an enormous space consisting of many temporarily fused arenas. In this random forest environment, giant coins occasionally spawned at random locations. Mech pilots had to search for these coins and bring them to a random location, though they had to look out for ambushes. Regardless who possessed the coins, the pilot who delivered the coin successfully gained a score.

To keep it all fair, the five hundred pilots were completely isolated. They piloted the mechs remotely through advanced transmission technology. In a real war, there were millions of ways for an enemy to interfere with these signals. In a venue completely controlled by the Carnegie Group, the risk was deemed acceptable. The Group did not want to risk the lives of their future pilot officers, after all.

The key issue of this round was that a mech only had one life. Once it received fatal damage, the mech did not have any opportunity to collect more coins. The designers who submitted their designs early had more time to collect coins. Those who came later might overshadow the rush jobs, but with lower ranking pilots and less time to collect coins, they had an uphill battle to fight.

Another key issue was that the allocated pilot remained attached to the designer if they successfully survived this round. Only the top hundred teams who submitted the most coins qualified for the second round. The pilot rank was thus of prime importance to your chances of reaching the finals.

"Now, every year, we receive the same complaints. It's not fair. It's too arbitrary. Everyone should receive the same quality of pilots."

The executive turned around and stared at the designers on stage. All of them felt the intensity of a man who climbed his way up the ranks of the renowned Carnegie Group.

"I am a businessman. You work for us. As a responsible businessman, I expect my subordinates to work promptly and deliver their products on time. Those who can never meet their deadlines will never cut it in the mech industry. The best mech designers are always those who are a step ahead of the competition. It is up to you to decide how much time you wish to spend on your designs."

Everyone felt the weight of his words. While some of the designers had little clue what he was talking about, Ves knew better as he already had some experience running his own business.

The free-for-all in fact could be considered a race. Those who worked faster gained a lot more advantages, though sometimes the slowpokes turned the tables by submitting an almost invincible design.

In essence, Ves had three overall choices to make before he even started. He could rush out a sloppy design and gain an elite pilot who could search for coins before the majority of the competition entered the simulated battlefield.

This was the highest risk a designer could make and had enormous influence to their future course. If Ves succeeded in his gambit and climbed his way up the top hundred, then he paved the way for a clear road to the finals. With a high-ranking pilot by his side, he had the qualifications to fight for the number one position.

If Ves was not that confident in a quick design, he could take it slower and submit his design somewhere around the average. With enough time, he could design a substantially better mech who could go toe-to-toe with almost any opponent except for the slowpokes.

Finally, he could take his time and design a truly perfect mech. With sufficient time, he could build up a mech that enjoyed a full coverage of compressed armor. With such a marvellous protective layer, his mech would be virtually invincible.

"Still, the pilot I'll get won't cut it. There's a huge difference between a top pilot and an average pilot." Ves considered carefully. He wanted to reach the absolute top. Those who took their time were mostly content with reaching the top hundred or top fifty. Only the designers who submitted their designs fast enough had the right to struggle for the limited amount of available apprenticeships.

Throughout the competition, Ves already acted boldly. He already staked his entire future to a single throw of the dice. He had to keep walking his chosen path to the end.

"Three hours. I should be able to finish a functional design in three hours." Ves whispered to himself. The average submission time in past competitions usually hovered around five to six hours. Cutting that in half meant his mech inevitably retained some serious flaws. The key was to minimize or mitigate these flaws.

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After explaining the rules, the executive retreated and allowed others to direct the first round. A guide brought every designer to their allocated QuickForge system.

A marvel of engineering, every QuickForge cost as much as a hundred mech workshops. Its impressive capabilities allowed for almost instant fabrication of any device as long as its complexity did not exceed a certain standard. Though insufficient to mass-produce any currentgen mechs, it had no trouble in pumping out two-hundred year old designs.

"These are the toys that the students of Leemar can polish their design skills." Ves guessed. The Carnegie Group didn't design these QuickForge units for a simple competition. "How I envy those who gained the chance to study here."

Designers who spent a lot of time with these miraculous systems could gain a lot of proficiency in working with real mechs. Though the assembly process was massively simplified and sped up, it still provided much more hands-on experience than working with simulations and projections.

Once everyone reached their assigned stations, they waited for the signal to start.

"Three, two, one, go!"

Everyone rapidly engaged the QuickForge system. The students from Leemar had a distinct advantage. They used their familiarity with its systems to immediately start fabricating a frame. Sophisticated assembly arms flash-produced the alloys in midair, kept aloft by the most precise antigrav emitters.

Impressed by the speed of which these systems produced a frame, Ves hurriedly tried to catch up.

"Right. If I want to finish a frame at the fastest speed possible, I'll have to go for a light mech."

Though he preferred to design a versatile medium mech, its larger mass and size meant it took more work to get it running. A light mech not only had a reduced material requirement, its limited loadout meant it only needed a couple of small components to make it fully functional.

As Ves wanted to make his mech count in the first half of the round, he focused on improving his mech's peak capabilities. It needed all the performance it could get in order to remain competitive with the mechs submitted a few hours later. The battlefield fortunately featured small resupply depots where mechs could supplement their ammunition and energy, so mechs with shorter running times still had a chance.

After a brief consideration, he therefore picked a sprinter mech. He rapidly scanned the list of pre-made components and picked out a laundry list of limbs and internal parts. He particularly paid attention to the legs. Drawing from his experience with the Octagon series, he focused on prioritizing agility instead of top speed, though not to such an extreme extent this time.

"In the early stages of the free-for-all, it's more important for a mech to be able to avoid damage. The less damage it incurs, the longer it will last."

Some mech designers chose to go for the opposite strategy. They built a crude heavy mech brimming with armaments. Such a heavy brick relied on its immense armor and firepower to deter others from taking it on even as it sluggishly transported a coin. The tiny light mechs like what Ves had in mind gained no advantage in taking on such monsters.

Though fairly safe, their limited speed and mobility meant that these lumbering oafs had a lot of difficulties finding coins. They could only cover a limited area. Even if they spotted a coin, any rival mech could easily snatch it before the heavy mech reached the spawning point.

"Heavy mechs are just a dead-end in this mode." Ves concluded. Only heavy mech specialists had a way to make it viable. Anyone else only risked their downfall if they played with something they didn't fully master.

Now that he developed a concept, he had to attach the proper image to his design. In a contest like this where his entire future was at stake, he had to pull out all the stops. Even as his slower rivals all began to fabricate their parts, Ves still remained unmoved. He closed his eyes and sharpened his intent.

"My mech will be a steed fit for the most talented pilot. A proud machine, it cherishes its freedom to move. Any location is within reach. None may blaspheme its integrity. Violators will be speared by its horn if they are weak. Those who are stronger can never touch its surface, for my mech is fleet of foot and can depart whenever it wishes."

Ves envisioned a unicorn in the form of a humanoid light mech. Proud, inviolable and fleet of foot. The new design he had in mind combined all three aspects into a coherent whole. He felt empowered by his vision.

"Let's go."

He started to design and fabricate his mech. Though the interface of the QuickForge system was complex, it basically functioned as a monstrous amalgamation of a design terminal, a 3d printer and an assembly system. As Ves was quite familiar with each system, he had little trouble adjusting to the combined controls.

He put his full attention into getting his light mech assembled properly. Though the QuickForge system accelerated the fabrication and assembly process to a ludicrous speed, it also risked the amplification of any unaddressed faults. A tiny misalignment between components could snowball into a massive cascade of structural instability. Ves had to keep his eyes peeled and work with utmost precision in order to maintain control.

The only snag he faced was that he had to tune out the commentators.

"...Look at the beauty Cris Adrian has in mind!" A male announcer pointed out. "From how many components he has in mind, he's definitely going to make his splash in the mid-game!"

At least the mech designers had some measure of privacy this time. Opaque screens blocked their view of their rivals. In addition, each designer had access to a function where they could obscure all of their actions to the entire audience. This allowed designers to hide their proprietary techniques, though they were only allotted an hour of privacy in total.

A female announcer complemented her colleague. "Cris Adrian is one of Leemar's top graduates of this year. He has graduated cum laude in mech design, so his foundation is top notch! He recently accepted an invitation to work for the Carnegie Group directly, so he's certainly the man of the hour at this moment!"

"While Cris is a talented lad, look at his self-declared eternal rival! Mortimer Presutti is on fire! Having climbed from a life from the slums in a dusty planet at the edge of the Carnegie Group's sphere of influence, he quickly gained appreciation from everyone due to his remarkable intelligence. Now that he's reached this stage, I'm certain this one-in-a-century talent will dazzle us all with his nimble design!"

That caused Ves to stutter a bit, which almost screwed up his work on fusing a leg to a torso. If not for his quick reaction, he might have wasted a lot of time.

"This Mortimer sounds like trouble. If he's going for a light mech, then he'll be releasing his mech in the same time frame as mine. I can't let him get the better pilot."

With this new information in mind, Ves began to work more recklessly. Though he started to slip up now and then, most of the errors were too inconsequential to bother addressing. He pushed his assembly skills to the limit by speeding up as fast as possible while maintaining control. He felt as if he was balancing on a knife edge. Instead of slowing down to catch his balance, he instead moved faster, causing him to wobble harder.

"We've tallied all five hundred in-progress designs and put our brightest minds to work. The preliminary results are in! About 93 are light mechs, 320 are medium mechs, and the remaining 87 are heavy mechs."

"That sounds about right. There's always an even proportion of light and heavy mechs every year."

"How many of them are aerial mechs?"

"A staggering 78 designs show openings for flight systems. It seems like a significant amount of them are built to hunt for coins."

"The cowards! Don't these designers have any confidence in their work! I want to see some action!"

Ves slowed down when he reached the arms and legs. In order to preserve his design's offensive power, he had to pay particular attention to the musculature in the limbs. The default scheme of the limbs were sorely outdated. With the advantage of two hundred years of progress, he radically tore out the old layout and began to swiftly implement a crude but modern musculature. Though not as good as a proper scheme, his improvised work still raised the specs of all four limbs by a significant amount.

He optimized his mech for wielding spears, though he also added in a laser pistol to deter any fliers. While the pistol did not amount to much of a threat, it was sufficient in holding off opportunists who wanted to pick off an easy target.

Though the rules did not reward a kill, one of the viable strategies in this mode was to eliminate as much competition as possible before they accumulated a lot of coins. The best targets were those who were in the middle of transporting their own coins.

"Enough about the boys. Let's check out how the girls are doing! Just look at Cynthia Barakovski's fearsome light mech. It's only partially but it already looks like a maneater. It certainly possesses the most bite out of all the light mechs."

"Oh I don't dispute that, but she could certainly speed up a little. By the time she finishes this monster, the battle will already progress to the middle stages."

Ves idly noted Barakovski's mention. Despite her average skill in mechanics, her mech should still be a formidable machine in terms of armor and weapons. If she intended to take her time, then she was certainly designing a light mech killer. That was bad news for him.

"Looks like our mechs might clash." He muttered. If he allocated more time on his mech, he could close the gap, but that meant he'd miss out on the best pilots in the pool. In order to reach the finals, he had to give up a lot of toys and settle for something fast and cheap.

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Ves toed a dangerous line. He worked faster than ever before using a machine he never touched. If he tripped up even once, he'd fall down the precipice. He made risky maneuvers left and right, all in the name of maximizing performance in the least amount of time.

"I can feel my skills are integrating. There's no better way for me to master my new gains than to push them to the limit."

Despite being one step away from ruination, Ves felt truly alive at that moment. He was made for this. His performance went past a hundred percent as he reached a peculiar state of zen. Only his massively empowered concentration allowed him to enter this special state. Under this remarkable influence, he worked as furiously as a ritually empowered demon, which even managed to attract the attention of the commentators.

"Who is that foreigner? He's working remarkably fast! While he's a little sloppier than the talents from Leemar, he's crushing them in terms of decisiveness!"

Some of the audience even started to divert their attention to Ves. While he had no impressive background or reputation to speak of in the Coalition, his frantic pace still marked him out as an unusual contender.

"According to my files, this dark horse here is Ves Larkinson, a native from the Bright Republic. He doesn't have any achievements to speak of. He graduated from a third-rate university from a third-rate state with average grades. The only two things to note is that he founded an independent mech workshop without outside investment and that a mysterious charity from the New Rubarth Empire has gifted him a couple of lastgen production licenses."

Everything the spectators heard so far failed to impress them at all. Only the involvement of the New Rubarth Empire took them aback. Even if only a tiny and obscure influence from the massive first-rate superstate took interest in Ves, the news was still sufficient to shock the crowd.

Under the rule of the ruthless Emperor, those who lived and thrived under his rule had to possess a certain amount of strength. If not, their wealth and possessions would have been snatched a long time ago. It had to be said that even the most banal powers from the New Rubarth Empire possessed enough might to crush the Komodo Star Sector a dozen times over.

Elsewhere on the stage, Barakovski's smile turned intrigued. "Interesting. Seems like my meeting with him was fortuitous. I always knew there was something fishy about him. The Bright Republic can't possibly nurture a mech designer like him. If there's the shadow of New Rubarth behind him, it all makes sense."

Meanwhile, Patricia's eyes remained tranquil as she steadily built up her design. She took no special note of her former classmate from the Republic. The only thing she had in mind was her design. Her subdued way of working drew no eyes from the audience even if her fingers operated the QuickForge system in a masterful way.

There were also some on the stage who treated the news contemptuously. One graduate from Leemar snorted offhandedly when he heard the commentary. "Truly worthy of the Rubarthans to invest in a random ant from the most backward place in the star sector. Hah, if that influence is truly legitimate, then we'd all heard about it by now."

Though Ves attracted a brief spike of attention, the short-lived excitement died down quickly. In the eyes of the insiders, he was merely a talent who got a lucky break. Whether he could transform the gifts he received into his own strength was another matter. Many dazzling talents who graduated from the LIT and the other elite schools of the Coalition possessed much more substantial track records. Their many accomplishments awed the people present.

The heritage of the various partners in the Friday Coalition could not be belittled. Despite their intense rivalry, they unceasingly produced successful talents year after year. Only a comprehensive education system could pump out an unceasing amount of talents. The Coalition also nurtured them properly by putting them under the wings of more experienced designers.

"Speaking of remarkable designers, who do you favor?"

"Is that even a valid question? There's only one person on stage who deserves to be called an emperor of their generation. If you lived under a rock for the past couple of years, then lo and behold the radiance of Carter Gauge."

No one disputed the commentator's assertion. Even the illustrious household names such as Mortimer Presutti and Cynthia Barakovski had to bend the knee in front of a genuine powerhouse like Carter Gauge.

"As a descendant of the ruling Gauge Dynasty, there is no question Carter will inherit the role of chief mech designer from his father."

The Gauge Dynasty was the strongest partner of the Friday Coalition. They were the first to arrive at the desolate Komodo Star Sector. With their innumerable assets and power, they blazed a trail and colonized the juiciest star systems. If not for the entries of rival powers like the precursors of the Konsu Clan and Hexadric Hegemony, the Gauge Dynasty might have firmly grasped the entire star sector.

Nowadays, their immense strength and unruly behavior often invited universal condemnation. Though the Dynasty could overpower any other partner, even they had to halt if the rest of the Coalition combined together in opposition.

Militarily, the Gauge Dynasty unquestionably occupied the throne. The Konsu Clan was only a distance second. The almost evenly-matched Vermeer Group hounding at their heels, not content with their third-place position.

In comparison, the Carnegie Group's core strength did not even come close. The Group pursuit an economic and diplomatic path to dominance. Their industrial power matched the Gauge Dynasty while their connections spread beyond the star sector. No one belittled the Carnegie Group even if their strength was fairly weak on paper.

"That is interesting! Carter Gauge is disregarding the usual strategies and is calmly designing a medium mech for the late-game! If anyone else is doing the same, I'd call them a loser. If it's Carter, then he surely has a sinister plan in mind."

"His mech will surely be a peerless killing machine, though I wonder how he will gather enough coins. Even if the spawn rate increases bit-by-bit, it still doesn't give him a lot of opportunities to catch up. His mech will also be outplayed by the higher ranking pilots."

There was a remarkable disparity between the top ranking pilots and the ones who ranked beyond the hundreds. Those who dwelled in the bottom ranks still possessed a certain amount of strength, or else they wouldn't be present. Still, they've all exhausted their potential, so it was incredibly difficult for them to grow stronger.

Carter's arrogance gave him so much confidence that he was willing to kneecap himself with a trash pilot. It was as if he taunted every other powerhouse on stage that he could beat them even with his hands tied behind his back.

Despite everyone's praise, the powerhouses among the designers were not convinced of his strength. Even Ves who occasionally heard about Carter's accomplishments did not shrink back. Even if he admitted that Carter likely possessed a deeper foundation, he still wished to clash head-on against the Coalition's best.

As two hours went by, his mech slowly came into fruition. Ves spontaneously adjusted his design when he learned new tricks. Though he still pursued speed, he also wanted to bestow his mech with a minimum amount of self-protection.

"We have our first submission! Who is it?!"

"It's a mech designed by Alyssa Fill, a guest from the Myari Seven Stars! That's not even a proper third-rate state! It's only a fourth-rate minor power!"

"Now that is certainly exciting! Can this quick little rabbit snatch enough coins before the wolves are released on the battlefield?"

Alyssa literally designed a small and nimble rabbit mech. Among the standard beast types, the rabbit shape offered an unsurpassed combination of speed and leaping power, though its agility wasn't anything to slouch at. However, she rushed through the design and fabrication of her mech with excessive haste. Whether the mech could match even fifty percent of its specs if it had enough time for development was still in question.

The bottom floor of the combined arena space came to life. The lights revealed a temperate arboreal forest interspersed with plains and hills. All of the terrain consisted of real dirt and real trees. Leemar spared no effort in making the competition as realistic as possible.

Once Alyssa's rabbit mech entered the battlefield, a large and powerful signal engulfed the modified cockpit. The remote controls of the mech engaged. Hidden several hundred meters below ground, five hundred simulation pods rested silently as the pilots inside waited to be called up. One of the pods lit up, signifying a successful connection.

"He's in! Richard Lovell is in! The top cadet of the Abelard Academy has taken control of the rabbit mech! Look at the movements of the mech. He's testing out the integrity of his new acquisition carefully."

"Only rarely do we see a mech enter the battlefield at the second hour. It should be cruel and unusual punishment to subject a top cadet pilot to such an awfully rushed mech. Just look at its left forepaw. It's practically falling apart already!"

The entire crowd derived a cruel sense of satisfaction every time a talented mech pilot got paired with an absolutely awful trash mech. This was one of the competition format's greatest attractions.

Genius pilots got paired with trash mechs while trash pilots got paired with elite mechs. The struggles between the two wildly different pairings always resulted in impressive fireworks.

"The rabbit mech is hopping away now! Lovell is sniffing after coins! A pity that for a beast type that excels at sensors, Alyssa only installed the most rudimentary sensor system in the rabbit's head. Those large floppy ears are completely wasted as antennas. The star cadet is forced to scramble blindly for coins in this dense and tricky forest!"

Everyone laughed at the spectacle. Rabbit mechs functioned as the scouts in any organized group of mechs. They outperformed humanoid light mechs in that regard alone, though they paid for it by faring worse in a head-on battle.

Still, Alyssa spent all of her time on making her mech functional. She only spent a couple of minutes installing the simplest sensor system, which happened to malfunction right now. Lovell was forced to rely on his visual sensors which massively cut back on his detection range.

Perhaps pressured by Alyssa's daring speed, a couple of designers pulled the trigger a short time later. Six shoddily produced mechs joined Alyssa's rabbit in the battlefield. Just as the elite pilots engaged the controls, three of the mechs instantly malfunctioned.

"Amazing! Three of them suffered catastrophic failure! One locked both legs, another can only actuate about ten percent of its motive power while only while the last one blew up directly!"

"The other three mechs are not faring any better. While they can still move around, their integrity is even worse than Alyssa's rabbit mech. They'll simply collapse at the first blow!"

"The early bird gets the worm. Who cares if they can stand up in a fight? They all entered the battlefield before the first fighting mechs arrive. As long as they gather a couple of coins, they've accomplished their mission."

With a significant chunk of the top pilots taken away, Ves rushed to complete his mech. He cut back on a couple of luxuries such as a sophisticated sensor system and an improved energy transmission system. Only the essentials mattered.

During this sensitive period, only a few more mech designers dared to submit their rushed designs. Most encountered setbacks immediately upon entry in the battlefield. They submitted their mechs way too early, and suffered widespread scorn from the entire star sector.

A mech designer that failed to judge his own work correctly had no place in the upper echelons. They were never going to live down this moment for the rest of their careers. The audience instead lamented the wasted opportunities for the elite cadets to showcase their skills.

In the meantime, Ves finalized his design. He took an incredible two-and-a-half hours to complete a somewhat functioning light mech. It was one of his first works to date where he fully utilized his newly gained Journeyman skills. Gradually, a light shone in his eyes.

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Each time Ves fabricated a mech, he imagined bringing a new life into existence. At his best, he even had the illusion that he became a god.

His Unicorn mech paled in comparison to his older designs. Made in haste, the mech only possessed the bare essentials. As a scout skirmisher, it was very light on firepower. Besides a piddling laser pistol, it mainly had to rely on a spear to threaten other mechs. Its armor was paperthin and it possessed merely adequate speed among light mechs.

Its faults were also numerous.

As a rushed product, not all of the parts aligned perfectly with each other. Though Ves managed to avoid major faults, the mech still possessed numerous inconsistencies that might prove vulnerable later on. At least all of its limbs worked as designed, more or less.

The endurance of the mech also fell short. The Unicorn could reluctantly support fifteen minutes of peak combat before it entered power saving mode. If the mech failed to recharge its energy cells, it only grew more sluggish and feeble.

All-in-all, the Unicorn was one of the worst mechs he ever designed. Yet it was also his best work to date. Ves incorporated many nuances in its design, some of which he spontaneously generated on the spot. In just two-and-a-half hours, Ves was confident that few could match his efforts.

What Ves particularly cared about was the X-Factor. In the scoring system used by the System, he only achieved a score of C- for his inspired Marc Antony design. He remembered the drive and passion he experienced when he completed his first real mech design. The feeling he had when he completed the Unicorn faintly surmounted his previous experience by a small but noticeable margin.

"It's unlikely I pushed my score up to a B. The best I can hope for is a C or C."

That still represented a long-awaited breakthrough. Ves harvested many clues about how to progress his implementation of the X-Factor. If he firmly grasped this step, he could surmount his current limits and be one step closer in achieving his dream of designing a completely original mech.

"Now, it's all up to the pilot."

When Ves handed over the Unicorn, he exited the stage and entered a waiting room for designers. He quickly counted the number of people present.

"Fifteen designers. That means I've snatched the sixteenth ranked pilot. I'm still a bit too slow!" Ves shook his head. He missed an opportunity to snatch someone better. There was a big difference between the top 10 and the top 20. "At least my mech is decently built. It shouldn't fall apart like the other rushed machines."

The commentators also noted his submission and pulled up the specs of his design.

"That's interesting! Mr Larkinson's design is the first one so far that's holding up rather decently. Its limbs aren't locked out and its internals are working somewhat according to their factory specs. What fearful speed!"

"What fearful precision! Larkinson managed to complete his mech successfully even when he was playing with fire. The amount of control that's required to keep this mech together is quite fearsome!"

"I think whoever is assigned to pilot this machine will cry tears of joy. He surely lucked out by piloting something other than a walking scrapheap."

"Cadet Reddy Lovejoy here sure has a colorful history. Besides his obsessive love for pickles, he's also a trained swordsman!"

"Oh, that's a bummer for him. His mech is equipped with a spear!"

"Well it's not like swords are rare. If he can scavenge a sword from another mech, he'll be good to go!"

"Good luck out there Lovejoy!"

A few hundred meters below ground, another simulation pod turned active. The pilot inside woke up from his lethargy. The time had come for him to go into action. He patiently waited for his simulation pod to go through its checks. Once it finished testing the connection, the pilot opened his mind and let his psyche expand in the cavernous emptiness that represented his new mech's mindspace.

As the fifteenth ranked pilot from the Abelard Academy, Cadet Lovejoy had piloted numerous training mechs. Many of them were used to being piloted by many people, so they all gave him a worn and familiar feeling.

This time was different.

He encountered something different this time during his submersion into the Unicorn. A faint radiant energy brushed his mental thoughts. Lovejoy instantly raised his vigilance. During his training, he learned to recognize the numerous anomalies pilots might encounter if the neural interface had any issues.

Fortunately, aside from that initial brush, he sensed no further strangeness. His mind successfully made a connection with the Unicorn, causing the mech to blaze to life. Its systems came online and aside from a few bumps, his mech was ready to go.

"Let's hunt." Lovejoy smirked as he guided his mech forward. He tested each of the Unicorn's limbs and made a few contortions. "Haha! This mech is good enough for me to display eighty percent of my strength! It was worth lowering my rank!"

Mech designers weren't the only group of people who benefited from the Open Competition. The cadets from the Abelard Academy all sought to win a chance to demonstrate their skills and build a name for themselves. Plenty of pilots who performed magnificently in the past received life-changing offers from major powers. Lovejoy was no exception.

Still, he wasn't the only one who intentionally depressed his ranking. Though the benefits of holding the top position was great, no one wanted to end up in a rickety bucket of a mech that collapsed at the first blow. The shrewder and more strategic pilots held back some of their strength in order to maintain a decent but not too exceptional rank.

"This time I won the grand prize. There's nothing I can't do with this mech!"

As Lovejoy acclimated to his mech, he engaged his sensors and searched the forest with confidence. Even if he encountered a rival mech, he bet his mech outmatched the majority submitted during this time. For some reason, he felt as if his mech echoed his confidence. The subtle loop that formed between the two caused him to feel as if he could take on the entire galaxy. He held his spear with pride.

"A coin!"

With sparkling eyes, Lovejoy enthusiastically dove forward. Just as his mech neared the coin, a ballistic shell shot him from the flank.

"Hah! As if I'd fall for an ambush! Your marks are all over the place! " Lovejoy taunted over the speakers as he used his mech's superior agility to dance around the projectile. "Now that you've exposed your position, get ready to pay!"

The opposite mech turned out to be a medium cannoneer. As it was piloted by someone with a higher rank than Lovejoy, the mech did not panic or retreat. Instead, it committed to battle and fired off a volley of shells from his ballistic cannon. Each time it fired off a heavy shell, its entire frame rattled loudly.

"With the kind of racket your armor is making, I'm surprised it's still on its feet!"

Lovejoy made a judgement call after he saw the state of his opponent. Instead of trying to rush into his opponent's face, he stopped going forward once he got close and started strafing sideways. Though the cannoneer was still able to keep up, its accuracy was horrible due to the faults integrated in its arms.

"You bastard! I know it's you, Lovejoy! Face me like a man!"

"Gladly!"

The cannoneer already missed its best shot when it failed to take out the Unicorn during its initial ambush. Its designer had panicked and rushed the mech to the battlefield under the pressure of hearing others getting a step ahead.

There was no suspense once the Unicorn got close. Lovejoy easily utilized his mech's agility to jump to the side and cut the cannoneer from the flank. Though the initial thrust dealt only glancing damage, the opening it afforded allowed the Unicorn take the initiative and relentlessly push the medium mech into a dead end.

After a final spark, the medium mech dropped onto its back.

"Too bad there's no rewards for a kill."

The objective of the match remained gathering coins. As there were too many mechs and too little coins, conflict was inevitable, though not always desirable. The more fragile mechs had to choose their battles carefully, lest they incur crippling damage that took them out of contention.

After grabbing the shiny cartoonish coin, Lovejoy quickly departed from the site. The noise might have attracted scoundrels, and he didn't want to be the mantis who stalked the cicada, only to be preyed by the oriole behind.

He quickly relaxed once he sensed no other mechs nearby. "It's still rather early. The battlefield should be sparse. It's prime time for me to hunt for coins."

Once he reached the random delivery point, he let loose the coin and allowed it to float to the skies. His systems beeped, acknowledging the completion of the delivery. He gained a score.

"This is far from enough. If I want to reach the top hundred, I have to gather at least half-a-dozen more coins."

The average cut-off varied over the years. In some past contests, the pilots frenziedly sought to destroy each other. In such fraught circumstances, a team could easily qualify by successfully delivering about four or five coins.

Normally pilots behaved tamer. They had to rationally choose their battles. Unless provoked by the possession of coins, they'd normally choose to brush aside when meeting a match. Naturally, there were always a couple of people who proactively sought to destroy the opposition in order to show off their skills and lower the average cut-off margin. As long as these battle maniacs survived long enough, they'd easily swagger past this round.

After fifteen minutes of fruitless searching, Lovejoy stumbled upon a flier racing to deliver his coin. "A chance!"

The Unicorn set aside its spear and retrieved its laser pistol. It fired a barrage of shots in the direction of the flying mech. As an elite pilot, his marksmanship was decent though he didn't specialize in ranged weapons.

With the aerial machine's speed, Lovejoy had little chance to hit the target with a couple of aimed shots. He might as well substitute accuracy for volume as he crazily overheated his pistol. With the sheer amount of lasers beams in the sky, a couple of them succeeding in hitting the flying mech.

"Go away! This coin is mine!"

"Fat chance! Your wings are already smoking! I'm eating chicken tonight!"

The Unicorn pressed through the trees and reached the flying mech's crash site. The mech only suffered a malfunction in its power supply so it hadn't straight up turned into a pancake. Its pilot ruthlessly cut off its malfunctioning wings with a sword.

"Whoever designed this piece of dung should stay away from flight systems." The pilot muttered before turning his burning gaze at the Unicorn.

"Hand over your sword and coin, and you can keep your miserable life."

"You can pry them from my dead hands!"

Without another word, the two mechs closed the distance. Lovejoy fended off the initial thrust with decent spearwork. As a pilot who specialized in swordsmanship, he hadn't neglected his training in other weapons in case he encountered situations like this. Sadly for him, the opposite pilot was a competent swordsman himself, and despite his mech's many handicaps, he still managed to press Lovejoy back.

As the pressure increased, Lovejoy crazily split his focus. One portion analyzed his opponent's moves while the other kept an eye on the environment. He slowly guided his opponent forward.

After making a few more steps backward, the Unicorn hastily jumped aside as a volley of high-powered laser beams strafed his former position. Even as they failed to hit their primary target, they still extended forward and glanced the former flight mech.

The mech stuttered in its movements as several critical systems malfunctioned. Lovejoy took advantage of the gigantic opening and thrust his spear straight through the mech's cockpit area. Though the mechs on the battlefield were remotely controlled, any damage to the cockpit that normally killed the pilot inside still counted as a weak point.

The flight mech lost control and fell into a heap. Lovejoy threw away his spear and quickly picked up his opponent's sword. He turned around vigilantly, expecting another volley of lasers. When nothing happened, he carefully inched closer to the flying mech's coin and picked it up.

"Too bad that laser gunner didn't come forward. His mech must be a shambling wreck."

Those who piloted substandard mechs often chose to stay in the shadows. They loved to be the bystanders in a duel between two mechs. They lost their opening when one side vanquished the other in a dominant fashion.

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After two hours of careful stalking, Lovejoy managed to deliver four golden coins. Compared to his competitors, he achieved a decent result. His luck was fairly good as he encountered two more light mechs in the process of transporting their coins. As these machines had all been prematurely rushed to the battlefield, Lovejoy easily crushed them through his superior mech's capabilities.

However, now was the time when the match transitioned in the mid-game. Shoddy mechs stopped pouring in by now. With at least twice as much time spent on their design, the second wave of mechs all overpowered the the early birds by a significant margin.

"Too scary! It's getting crowded here." He muttered as he vigilantly retreated from a newly spawned coin. Three mid-game mechs were duking it for possession of the coin. A worn-out light mech like his Unicorn had no contending against even one of them. He knew his limits.

"I still don't have enough coins."

Though he could yield in front of most dangerous encounters, he still had to fight for coins. Without at least two or three more, his chances of making it to the next round might evaporate.

He navigated through the forest carefully. By now, plenty of areas suffered from battle damage. The ground was scorched and many trees had been toppled. Broken mechs were strewn about like toys. Many of them only suffered light damage before they completely collapsed.

"Luckily my mech's designer isn't a total idiot. I can still hold up for a few hours."

The only issue he encountered was that his mech required frequent recharging. The few supply depots spread around the battlefield were all highly visible areas. He always had to watch his back incase he encountered an ambush.

His sensors beeped, alerting him to a nearby coin. He guided the Unicorn forward and carefully stalked past the foliage. He spotted an unclaimed coin resting against a cliff.

"Am I truly alone here?" Lovejoy wondered as he looked around suspiciously.

It seemed too good to be true. With a laser pistol in one hand and a sword in the other, his Unicorn crouched behind a dense patch of trees and waited patiently. He decreased the power to his systems in order to make his mech's thermal signature blend in with the environment.

"Unless someone is piloting a dedicated scout, no one should detect my presence."

His caution turned out to be prophetic, since a well-built light mech approached the coin a minute or so later. The mech appeared to be a sharp-looking skirmisher. Its twin wrist cannons possessed enough firepower to melt the Unicorn in a short amount of time, though it would suffer from catastrophic overheating in return. Still, the skirmisher was not a soft cookie but a well-built machine that took at least four hours to complete.

After scanning the area, the skirmisher evidently failed to detect the Unicorn. It conveniently picked up the coin and jogged away.

"Should I or should I not?" Lovejoy considered carefully. If he jumped the skirmisher, he had a decent chance of making a crippling blow. On the other hand, a light skirmisher was one of the worst types of mechs for his Unicorn to come to blows. He decided to call off his ambush.

"What rotten luck. I found a coin only to let someone else take it away."

Lovejoy felt as if he did his mech a disservice. He should be fighting it out against his competitors in a frank and upright manner. All this sneaking around only to take a step back when he encountered a formidable opponent only rankled him further. When had he ever acted so cowardly?

His sensors picked up a commotion down a riverbank. His mech turned around swiftly and approached the noise. From the amount of noise he heard, he realized the fight turned especially intense. Only a battle over coins could lead to such a frigid battle.

"Two coins!" Lovejoy exclaimed as he approached the edge of a tangled battle between five different mechs. He guessed that two pairs of runners and pursuers had bumped into each other, with another mech joining in afterwards.

What made him hold his breath was that all of the mechs were of the medium weight class. They excelled at head-on fights but their speed was nothing remarkable. As the mechs all had to devote their full attention to the fight, the original holders of the coins all dropped them to the side.

The cadet formed a bold plan to snatch the coins before making off. If he squeezed past the battling mechs correctly, they'd never catch his tail.

"Ten seconds. If I can avoid getting hit in that timeframe, I can get away scotch free."

He was confident he could avoid getting hit by melee weapons, but had less faith in his ability to dodge projectiles. As the mechs in the battle started to accumulate damage, Lovejoy's window of opportunity quickly closed. He had to make a choice.

"Ah, let's go!"

The Unicorn burst out from the trees and steadily approached the nearest coin. Of the five battling mechs, one of them noticed the newcomer but could not respond. As for the rest, they were too consumed in their attempts to constrain each other and only noticed the newcomer when he was within grabbing distance of a coin.

"Oh no you don't!" A pilot of a rifleman exclaimed as he shot a laser beam at the Unicorn.

The light mech managed to grab a coin but suffered a heavy hit on its waist. Its legs still worked fine, but another hit would definitely cripple its mobility. Lovejoy gritted his teeth and danced around the battling mechs in order to approach the second coin.

"Get the thief!"

"He's too fast!"

The Unicorn received another couple of hits, but they only scraped off the armor. Lovejoy picked a good moment to make his move, as all of the mechs suffered from depleted ammunition or severe overheating. After bending down to pick up the second coin, the Unicorn raced off like a cat who caught the canary.

Even the commentators who were watching from above noticed the daring raid, though the pilots could not hear their words.

"Cadet Lovejoy is in for it now! He dared to snatch two whole coins from a crowd of serious-looking mechs. Can he get away from their clutches?"

"Ouch! One of his mech's legs got hit! But wait a moment! The mech is still running like a horse! Incredible!"

"He got away! The medium mechs lost track of the little bugger. How tragic! They fought so long only to end up with nothing but damaged mechs. Their chances of making it through have dropped down to almost zero."

In fact, while the Unicorn appeared to be running at full capacity, the damage was a lot more serious than the observers thought. The pace the mech had set increased the burden on the damaged leg, which decreased its effective lifespan. Lovejoy had no choice but to keep running at full tilt in order to lose his pursuers.

"That should do it." Lovejoy tiredly said as he let out deep breaths. He looked down his leg and saw that the damage was fairly bad. "It won't last very long, but I should at least last long enough to deliver my coins."

Lovejoy sacrificed a lot in order to obtain his spoils of war. He directly discarded his pistol and sword in order to lower his encumbrance.

At this stage of the battle, he could scavenge any weapon from a broken mech as long as it was simple. The more sophisticated weapons usually featured identity controls that locked them out against unauthorized users.

After scavenging a discarded knife, the Unicorn carefully trod towards the nearest delivery point. As he carried double the amount of coins as everyone else, he tried to camouflage his ill-gotten gains as best as possible. He dug some dirt and soiled the coins as best as possible before breaking up a tree trunk and stuffing the coins between a wide cut.

"It won't fool anyone who comes close, but at least I won't give the game away from the reflections."

Most pilots weren't willing to fight against a mech if it carried no coins. Such a battle was pointless and did not help too much in increasing their score. However, there were plenty of exceptions.

An innocent looking rabbit mech hopped in the Unicorn's path. Despite its fragile appearance, Lovejoy stopped as he felt a chill. The quadruped mech obviously suffered quite an ordeal. Its entire armor was worn out as it suffered from a lot of glancing blows. What Lovejoy found particularly notable was that despite its sordid look, the rabbit mech managed to avoid critical damage.

Its pilot must be a genuine powerhouse.

"Your mech stands no chance against mine. Can you please get out of my way?"

A silky smooth voice emerged from the rabbit mech. "Not until you show me what you're carrying in your hands."

"It's just a piece of wood I conveniently picked up. It's a nice distraction if I throw it at obnoxious bastards like you."

"Very funny. Feel free to throw it at me then. You can practice your aim."

Lovejoy would never relinquish his hidden coins. "Go away. This is your last warning."

The rabbit mech's pilot stayed silent, but its continued presence was a provocation in itself. He wasn't stepping aside without a fight.

The worst thing about the situation was that Lovejoy recognized the voice. Richard Lovell was one of the Abelard Academy's top pilots. His ranking always hovered in the top three. Such a monstrous pilot could do miracles with any mech, let alone a worn-out rabbit mech.

The face-off even attracted the attention of the crowd.

"That's the top-ranked pilot confronting the sixteenth-ranked pilot."

"I've taken notice of that light mech. He's hiding not one but two coins in that log!"

"How did Lovell sniff out those coins?"

"Who knows, but I'm sure a lot of sparks are about to fly."

"I've heard a bit about Lovell and Lovejoy. They both clashed a lot of times due to the similarity of their names. A lot of times, they get paired up against each other during practices."

Cadet Lovejoy indeed fought many times against Richard Lovell. He lost over ninety percent of the time. Even with a superior mech, he did not let down his guard.

The rabbit mech made the first move. It leaped forward in a powerful hop which startled the Unicorn. Lovejoy jinked his mech aside while throwing the log at the rabbit. The flimsy wood failed to scratch the rabbit, but the distraction proved enough for Lovejoy to turn around his mech and slash at the landing rabbit.

"You're too young to catch me off-guard." The calm voice of Cadet Lovell said as the rabbit mech kicked out its leg against the grip.

After fending off the knife, the rabbit hopped close and amazingly avoided a kick as it snapped its jaws against the damaged portion of the Unicorn's leg. The rabbit mech was too weak to snap off the entire leg, but it successfully exacerbated the wound.

"You bastard! I won't let you take my chances away!" Lovejoy roared as he turned berserk. The damage to his mech's leg had worsened so much that he wouldn't last longer than an hour, less if he stressed the limb. However, he had no thoughts on preserving his leg as he crazily tried to tear apart the rabbit mech.

Even Cadet Lovell was taken aback at the sudden ferocity. He tried to pilot his rabbit out of reach as best as possible, but the mech still suffered from the limitations of its hasty introduction to the battlefield. The rabbit fended off the strikes as best as possible and even got in another hit when it fired off the laser built into its mouth.

The Unicorn took the hit head-on and only suffered damage to its torso armor. The laser ultimately lacked the power to punch through in a single hit. Lovejoy did not give the rabbit another opportunity to fire off its laser as it finally reached the rabbit.

With brutal efficiency, the Unicorn pressed down the mech's head with one arm and slashed it with a knife with the other arm. The knife sliced off both ears along with a decent chunk of its head.

The sudden move caused the Unicorn to lose its grip. Cadet Lovell successfully moved his rabbit away and crazily hopped into the bushes.

"Yeah! Just get lost!" Lovejoy shouted even as he declined to pursue the wounded beast mech.

His expression worsened when he read the detailed damage report of the Unicorn's tattered leg. Its core integrity was close to snapping. It could not bear so much weight anymore. In order to maintain its shape, the Unicorn was forced to walk.

"I've got two coins. So long as I succeed in delivering them, I still stand a decent chance of reaching the top 100."

The rabbit mech had inflicted major damage to his chances of survival. In some years, six deliveries was enough to make it through. However, that was no guarantee for this year's competition. Cadet Lovejoy faced an uphill battle.

"First, I have to finish delivering these goddarn coins."

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The battlefield became crowded with mechs, both active and disabled ones. The majority of mech designers had pushed their works onto the field. Even if they were unwilling, they had to release their mechs in order to stand a chance to win some coins.

While the latest wave of mechs were built a lot more solidly, the quality of their pilots had deteriorated. This led to absurd situations like Alyssa Fill's rabbit mech demolishing a couple of mechs that had enjoyed twice or thrice as much design time.

A third of the crowd paid no attention to the other mechs as they rabidly followed Cadet Lovell's ingenious methods. His performance proved that while the quality of the mech mattered a lot, an ace pilot was able to work miracles with even the trashiest of mechs. While he hadn't managed to gather a lot of coins, his future was already bright.

Barakovski's light mech also entered the stage. As a supremely built machine, it acted like a crane among chickens the moment it descended onto the battlefield. Its pilot made great use of the tools at hand. While he generously made way for better armed mechs, it ruthlessly hunted the shabby light mechs that managed to eke out a meager existence. The light mech easily snatched a couple of coins with this strategy.

On the other hand, heavy mechs also entered the field. Their stupendous amounts of armor and prodigious firepower deterred many mechs from engaging them. Getting dragged into a head-on fight would always be a losing proposition. These heavy mechs simply lumbered around and whenever they found an unclaimed coin, they simply picked it up and walked to the delivery point without challenge.

As for the Unicorn, Cadet Lovejoy was forced to squirrel like a rat and avoid any encounters due to his damaged state. With a leg that was almost crippled, Lovejoy had to crawl through the most desolate terrain in order to avoid the crowded spots of the battlefield.

"I'm almost there. Only a kilometer to go." He muttered as he vigilantly paid attention to his sensors as well as his intuition. "This last stretch is going to be the hardest. The delivery point is right in the middle of an open plain."

The delivery points were decided semi-randomly. The battlefield had a couple of thousand potential spots where the systems governing the match could turn it into a delivery point. All of these spots were relatively open and accessible, meaning that some devious pilots might wait in the bushes nearby.

After inching closer, Lovejoy sensed no ambush nearby, but that didn't mean much. All of the cadets learned how to minimize their emissions by lowering their heat to a minimum in order to blend their thermal signature in the environment. Some extreme pilots liked to turn off the power reactor entirely, which meant they were completely exposed to damage if someone noticed them before they became active.

Lovejoy had to make another judgement call. He decided to rush to the delivery point without reserve.

The Unicorn burst into the open and jogged as best he could without completely allowing his leg to collapse. The stresses on the damaged leg increased, but his actions proved his worth as he managed to skim away from a small kinetic projectile.

"Haha, is that pistol shot supposed to stop me?!" Lovejoy taunted as he jerked his mech a little to the sides. "Your accuracy sucks!"

If his ambusher piloted a competent mech, he'd surely pay for his words. Yet from the scattered shots, Lovejoy already determined his ambusher's mech was nothing impressive. With grace akin to a drunken dancer, the Unicorn reached the delivery point and let go one of its coins, keeping the other stuffed in its log. The coin successfully ascended into the skies, which meant that Lovejoy gained another score.

"Haha you're too late! Keep firing if you want to, but you've already lost your chance to steal my coins!"

The ambusher stopped firing his pistol. Lovejoy guessed the enemy mech retreated even though he still failed to spot it on his sensors. He smirked at his successful gambit. The idiot thought he only had a single coin and did not know about the second one that was still sitting snugly in his log.

"Fooled you." He laughed and swaggered back into the forest.

Up at the waiting area, Ves nervously sighed in relief as his pilot successfully made it past this challenge. While he wasn't able to communicate with the sixteenth ranked pilot, he still felt a connection with the man.

Both of their futures were intertwined now. Lovejoy's success carried over to Ves, while his own accomplishments meant that Lovejoy could reach greater heights.

"Hello again Ves."

"Patricia! You're done with your mech as well?"

"It's just entered the battlefield." The woman replied and gestured down towards the spot where the mech descended. "I know it entered kind of late, but I'm confident my mech can catch up."

Ves stared down and gaped at the sight. His former classmate had designed and put together an arachnid heavy mech. Not only was it very heavy and thus very slow, it also carried a ton of missile launchers. He had no idea why she'd resort to such an extreme artillery loadout.

The massive spider mech armed its missiles while extending a powerful set of antennas. After turning on its powerful active scanners, it locked onto a series of mechs and fired off half of its missile tubes in one go. A biblical torrent of guided projectiles rose up in the skies before raining down onto their designated targets.

Seven nearby mechs instantly disintegrated. Two of them carried coins, which dropped upon the destruction of their carriers.

A further eleven mechs suffered substantial damage. The sudden strike instantly crushed the fighting spirits of their pilots. All they had in mind was to put as much distance from the launch site as possible. None of the mechs dared to approach the spider mech and confront it even though it was far from invincible at a closer range.

"What a strike! That's the most deadly move I've seen so far in this match." The commentator praised as he put the replay of the attack on display. "Look at those mechs who survived. They completely turned into scaredy cats! One of them even threw away its precious coin!"

With its powerful sensors, the spider mech slowly crawled over to the fallen coins. Though it took some time to nab all three of them, no one ever thought to steal its bountiful prizes.

Only a single flight mech tried to inch close, only to receive a swarm of anti-air missiles to its face. The mech quickly fell from the sky like a bird who lost its feathers. All of the other pilots who lurked nearby shuddered and slinked away.

"That's an incredibly domineering mech you've built."

"I know." Patricia modestly smiled, as if she was a mother watching her son performing on a stage. "I've spent over half a year on its design. Though it will have some trouble trying to resupply its spent magazines, as long as it still has missiles it should deter any challengers."

Many designers came prepared with a well-developed design for the free-for-all. Perhaps they spent months calculating every single detail in order to maximize its efficiency. However, many of these overprepared designers grew nervous or made mistakes once they got on stage. Many of them ultimately released a bunch of mechs that fell short of their theoretical capabilities.

Patricia evidently stuck to her design and succeeded in releasing a formidable mech. Ves admired her ability to maintain composure and deliver a consistent product.

He also had another reason to rejoice the introduction of her overbearing mech. The more opponents it killed, the more the pressure on Ves and Lovejoy eased up. With fewer mechs on the field, the easier they reached the top 100.

"Luckily your mech is on the other side of the battlefield. I'd hate to see my light mech get bombarded by your spider mech's missiles."

Perhaps it was luck, but the Unicorn never drew attention from any of the formidable mechs currently dominating the field. Mechs like the ones designed by Barakovski and Patricia were obviously a cut above the average mid-game mechs.

Many of their designers had only lucked past the qualifiers. Now that they had to compete on their own merits, their shaky foundation proved to be their downfall. No matter how many hours they spent on their design, they could never catch up to the true talents.

That was also why when Lovejoy occasionally encountered another mech, he got away without getting crippled. Most of the badly-built mechs weren't able to hit anything with their firearms as their limbs were too uncoordinated and skewed. The abysmal hit rates of most of the mechs in play proved why quality control and certification was essential.

Still, some mechs came equipped with rapid-fire weapons. These guns might not pack much of a punch, but their sheer volume of fire meant they'd always hit something if pointed at the right direction.

The Unicorn accrued significant damage over its entire frame. Most of its armor had turned into the mech equivalent of swiss cheese by now. Its responsiveness took a disastrous dive.

The Unicorn reached the final stretch just as it was about to collapse. A small distance remained until it could deliver its final coin, upping its score to six. Whether it was enough to reach the top 100 was still in question.

He only had to go past one final obstacle. Three mechs were battling it out over a fallen flight mech carrying a coin. They must have shot it down when it flew past the area.

Unlike the previous situation, all three mechs held back their aggression. They faced off against each other in a vigilant manner, but failed to make any move. Lovejoy found the situation to be fishy.

"What are they waiting for? Are they guarding against third parties like me? Or is it just too awkward for them to start fighting when there's three of them?"

Whatever the reason, the Unicorn was at the end of its lifespan. The longer it had to wait, the more likely it would forcibly shut down. He couldn't allow such a thing to happen.

After a moment's consideration, he decided to ignite the conflict. He calmly raised his beaten-up laser pistol and fired a couple of ineffective shots. The focusing lens had cracked, so the beams weren't very concentrated or straight.

The sudden attack spooked the three mechs into enacting their plans. They already stood on a hair-trigger. The stray laser beams caused them to attack each other before their brains caught up to the fact that a bystander shot at them first.

Like a mouse scurrying between a couple of angry cats, the Unicorn hobbled closer even as they became aware of its presence. The log managed to hide the fact that it hid a coin, but after a second or two the combatants recognized the old trick.

"He's delivering a coin!"

Just as two of the mechs turned their weapons at the Unicorn, the third mech went for the fallen coin. This drew back the attention of the two who were about to attack the Unicorn, which ultimately split everyone's focus. The serendipitous circumstance bought the Unicorn enough time to get close to the delivery point.

Just as a solid kinetic slug hit its torso, it managed to toss the coin just enough to land on the delivery point. As the mech finally deactivated due to incurring catastrophic damage to its exposed power reactor, the coin started to glow and fly in the air.

"I did it."

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Cadet Lovejoy's brilliant last moves were noted by few. Compared to the dazzling mechs destroying their rivals left and right, a worn-out mech like the Unicorn attracted little attention. It had quietly served its purpose for the few hours it remained in existence.

Ves almost dropped to his knees when he saw his pilot's ploy come into fruition.

"You're lucky that worked." Patricia noted calmly, as if the move was nothing more than child's play. "The quality of your pilot and your mech gave the plan a very low chance to succeed. It only worked due to the enemy pilots screwing up."

He knew she had a point. While his pilot clearly knew his business, he wasn't as exceptional as the ones from the top 10. The first-ranked Lovell still hopped around the battlefield with a half-wrecked rabbit mech, ambushing unsuspecting mechs right where it hurted. He managed to gather an incredible amount of eight coins through sheer skill.

"While I missed out on the best, I'm quite satisfied with my current pilot." Ves smiled. He already noted down the characteristics of Cadet Lovejoy and even had access to a brief profile. Next time he'd add a sword instead of a spear to his mech. "What about your own pilot? He's ranked somewhere in the mid-300's."

The difference between a pilot from the top 20 and the top 300 was a very large moat. A lower ranked pilot performed much worse in many different aspects. In the current round, what mattered most was judgement and battle intuition. Those who picked and choosed their battles wisely fared better than those who blindly blundered into unnecessary fights.

Surprisingly, Patricia stayed unconcerned. "Do you believe a mech's performance is determined by the skill of the pilot?"

"Of course it is. A pilot is the brain of a mech."

"If that is what you believe, then that is how your mech is built."

The sentence was short and simple, but contained profound implications. If a designer believed the skill of a pilot mattered the most, he'd consciously or unconsciously designed a mech that allowed a skillful pilot to play it to its full strengths. While this might work great if you expected your mech to be piloted by an excellent pilot, in the hands of a more average one the mech would never perform to its full potential.

"I see what you mean. You expected your mech to be piloted by an average pilot, so you designed your mech in a way that is simpler to operate and can be mastered easily."

No wonder Patricia dared to design a heavy artillery mech for the battlefield. Any dummy pilot with a brain could operate a slow, heavy mech with simple fire-and-forget missiles. It posed no requirements to finesse and reflexes.

A pilot only required decent judgement and a familiarity with missiles in order to operate the spider mech competently. As cadets from a renowned academy, all of the pilots mastered the basics, including those who ranked in the top 300.

However, there should be a limit to how far a dummy-proof mech could go. Ves asked a pertinent question. "Will you be able to reach the finals with such a philosophy?"

"Have the masters always apprenticed a designer who reached the finals?"

"Ah, not always."

In the history of the Leemar Open Competition, the masters usually picked up a couple of disciples from the finalists. Usually did not mean always. While the masters usually liked to pick winners, they placed more importance in compatibility. As long as a mech designer had a minimum amount of competencies, they could be picked by a master even if they did not make it through the first round.

This was also why plenty of designers valued the opportunity to make it past the qualifiers. Though extremely rare, a couple of masters had once selected apprentices from those who stalled at the start of the main event in the past. It gave everyone the tiniest bit of hope, which kept the competition vibrant.

The battlefield kept raging even after the Unicorn bowed out. After all of the excitement during the mid-game, the final hours arrived with the introduction of a couple of exceptional mechs. The majority of them were either heavy mechs or well-built medium mechs. Even Barakovski's light mech killer and Patricia's spider artillery mech had to make way for these alpha mechs.

The medium mech designed by Carter Gauge attracted everyone's attention. As the top seed of the competition, he boldly spent an inordinate amount of time on his mech. It was built like a hybrid knight. Its excellent sword and shield made it a menace at close range while its accurate shoulder-mounted ballistic guns ate up anything at range.

For all the anticipation, it did not disappoint. Even with a pilot ranked in the top 500, the medium mech moved faster and hit harder than almost any other mech out there. As its pilot became more accustomed to the awe-inspiring capabilities of his mech, he practically turned into a wild beast. His mech savaged anyone in its way, and stole coins left and right.

Even the commentators got pulled into the action. "Look at that mechanical wonder! He's at it again! This makes it the twelfth time it destroyed a mech, and it hardly received a scratch in return!"

"How tough must its armor be in order to deflect such a powerful kinetic round?"

"I don't know, but besides artillery, there's hardly any mech that could deter this killing machine."

Besides Gauge's invincible medium mech, some of the other latecomers also rolled over the early birds. While some designers simply delivered disappointing mechs, others made full use of the time to submit well-armored and well-armed mechs that was worth as much as four mid-game mechs.

Most of the late-game mechs utilized advanced compressed armor that went beyond the basic procedure Ves mastered. He only mastered the shallowest layer of alloy compression. More advanced methods could work with a wider variety of alloys and provide a more effective result in much less time.

Ves also learned from the designers in the waiting room that the best armor also underwent highly classified chemical treatment. Certain chemicals added before or after the compression process interacted strangely with some of the exotic materials incorporated in the alloys. These reactions increased the effectiveness of the compression procedure, resulting in thinner, lighter but much stronger armor.

"The chemical formulas are highly prized secrets. They are one of the core possessions of a mech design company. Some even build an entire dynasty around their formulas." Patricia noted succinctly. "Entire research departments might spend decades in order to come up with a single formula. The decent ones have a market value of trillions of cols."

This was on an entirely different level. These kinds of core technologies were highly prized assets that only the most formidable organizations were able to possess.

Someone like Ves could only ever purchase a license for the outdated formulas that have long been leaked. Even then, the prices were harsh.

The first round finally finished at the end of the day. This time, the amount of destruction exceeded last year's result. Many mechs hadn't been able to gather a sufficient amount of coins.

The threshold for passing turned out to be around six deliveries. The only problem was that a bit more than a hundred mechs had delivered at least six coins. This meant that some might pass and some might fail.

Ves bit his lip as he anxiously waited for the score counters to tally the final results. Finally, the sorting finished.

VES LARKINSON - REDDY LOVEJOY - 89th

"Yes!" He raised his fists. He passed the first round due to having delivered the coins faster than many others who gathered the same amount. This was another minor rule that gave preferential treatment to those who risked submitting their mechs early.

He looked at the scores for the few people he knew. Surprisingly, the combination Alyssa Lynch and Richard Lovell earned an impressive rank of 32nd. Considering that Cadet Lovell piloted one of the worst mechs on the battlefield, that was an incredibly heroic feat.

As for Patricia, her domineering artillery mech blasted its way into the 70s. While her spider mech easily demolished any opposition, its traversal speed was as slow as a snail so it barely gathered seven coins.

He checked the names of anyone else he knew. He finally spotted Barakovski's name way up at the 19th rank. She achieved a much better result than him even though she submitted her light mech a lot later. Her well-built mech hunted down many badly built mechs and ruthlessly robbed them of their coins.

As for Carter Gauge, he did not disappoint. His medium mech only came late, but its overall excellence proved even more tyrannical than Patricia's light mech killer. No matter the quality of its opposition, as long as it had a coin, it quickly died. With its supremely optimized sensors, it had no trouble tracking down coins. In just a couple of hours, its pilot easily gathered nineteen coins.

"This guy is in a different league than us." Ves noted as he stared at the top score. "He should be participating in events organized by first-rate superstates. Why is he slumming it with us?"

Patricia nodded in agreement. "You're right, but It's a political game. The Gauge Dynasty wants to press down the Carnegie Group's liveliness by emphasizing their deeper roots."

None of this concerned Ves, so they quickly dropped the subject.

Now that the main event had concluded, the audience started to return to their hotels. A few designers were invited up on stage to talk about their mechs in the aftershow, but Ves had no interest or expectation that he'd be invited up there.

When Ves met Dietrich back at the entrance of the arena complex, he took an irritated Lucky from his grasp. "There now, we only have two more days before we can go home."

"A lot of girls have been petting him." Dietrich explained Lucky's bad mood. "He's never gotten a proper rest. But hey, I'm not complaining. He's a great chick magnet."

Ves shook his head. His pet might look like an adorable cat, but his claws could cut right through a solid piece of armor.

"What do you think about Lovejoy? He's the sixteenth ranked pilot at the Abelard Academy. Is he better than you?"

"I'm a marksman, and he's a swordsman. We've got different specialties. His basics are very solid. I have to admit he's got a better reaction speed than me. He'd chew me up if he gets into melee range. Still, he's obviously too green. Any rookie pilot is no good until their lives are put on the line."

"Well hopefully that won't matter because they're all cadets. They haven't graduated yet."

Dietrich shook his head and pointed at Richard Lovell's name. "You're wrong. There's a couple of pilots who are different. This guy is the most obvious one. Every move he makes is focused on ending lives."

That sounded ominous. Ves had no familiarity with Alyssa Fill. She courageously designed and submitted an extremely rushed design in two hours in order to claim the best pilot available. Someone who took such a daring risk had to have some real capability. Her gamble worked, and she now had sole possession of the number one pilot, which gave her a great advantage in subsequent rounds.

Every formidable designer made it through the top 100. Those freeloaders who passed the last qualifying round while doing nothing all crashed and burned in front of an audience of trillions. Ves was relieved he made it through the first pass, but he was a little disappointed he hadn't reached a higher score. The impressive achievements of his rivals had taught him that he was far from the best.

"I've got a good enough pilot, and that's what matters. It doesn't matter if my mech gathered six or nineteen coins. It's enough to make it through with the best pilot possible."

He look forward what tomorrow had in store.

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The next day brought the hundred surviving mech designers back to the arena complex. This time, the arena fields had been separated, which meant that the second round no longer took place on a mass battlefield.

Ves had a good talk with Dietrich last night about how he should go about designing a mech for a swordsman. Though Dietrich did not specialize in this area, many of his subordinates did and he was a wealth of practical knowledge.

"Good morning Ves." Patricia greeted him once she spotted him. "Are you ready for the second round?"

"The successive duels are always tricky. It'll be a struggle, but I'm confident I can make it."

Only a hundred of the best designers who came all the way to Leemar survived up to now. Those who made it this far were not soft persimmons. No matter who he faced, he had a tough fight on his hands. While he did not guarantee he could win every duel, he still wanted to stand out.

After opening the day with a brief performance from some musicians, the announcer explained the rules for the second round.

"In the first test, we've tested our designers on whether they could deliver a working product on time. The second round revolves around efficiency and longevity. A mech designer must deliver a product that does the job as long as possible with the least amount of cost."

The projection changed into a list of available base parts. They were the same outdated junk they've used in the previous round, but now they had a price tag on them. The number varied widely according to their quality.

"The first major challenge is to design a mech that costs no more than a thousand points in six hours. If you happened to worry about not being able to reach this height, then don't be. I can assure you that you will wish the limit is higher."

Those who reached this stage were all capable of designing a decent mech in that time. A six hour design time was rather short, but for Ves who used the QuickForge system to design a mech under three hours, it was an eternity.

"The finished mechs will then have to duel four random opponents in a standard duel environment, with a two-hour interval between each fight. The mech designer is only allowed to use the QuickForge system to make as much repairs as possible. If you can't finish your repairs in that time, then tough luck, because many repairmen have faced the same situations during wartime."

These four consecutive duels tested a designer in multiple ways. First, they had to design a mech in a way that made it easy to repair if it incurred any damage. Second, they had to deal with a wide variety of possible damage and allocate their limited time to repairing the most essential parts.

This could get pretty brutal by the time the fourth duel was about to be held. Also, many times a mech sustained so much damage it could not fight on, which straight-up brought the mech designer and pilot out of contention.

In this case, the pilot had to make their own judgement on how to fight. Taking risks meant fights could finish quickly, but it also left them open to heavy damage that wasn't easy to repair. They also had the option to forfeit a duel at anytime in order to avoid accumulating damage when facing a losing proposition. Yet giving up too often dragged down the ranking. Only the top 25 qualified for the third round.

When Ves approached his now-familiar QuickForge system, he went over the design templates he had in mind. The last time he designed the Unicorn, he did so with the expectation that it would be compatible to any pilot.

This time was different. He knew the pilot. He read his profile. He watched him fight. Cadet Lovejoy fancied himself as a swordsman, so Ves should design a mech that revolves primarily around the use of a single sword.

Swordsmen mechs different substantially from the standard knight type. Whereas knights benefited from a substantial amount of armor along with a trusty shield, a swordsman had less mass in order to speed up its reaction.

In a tactical sense, knights acted as door stoppers. They excelled at defensive engagements where the enemy had to go past the knight in order to complete their objectives. Swordsmen fared worse in head-on clashes, but they performed well when used as a flanker or as a follow-up.

A swordsman mech was built around its sword. Ves read up on the basics. A swordsman mech relied on a combination of mechanical power along with momentum in order to deliver fast or heavy strikes. The mech needed to be heavy enough to add a lot of mass to a committed strike, but it also had to be flexible enough to maneuver like a duelist trying to get the upper hand.

"There's too many things to take note of when trying to design a swordsman mech." Ves concluded as he started to get a headache on how many balls he had to juggle. "I can't design a mech as heavy as a Caesar Augustus, and neither can I make it as light as an Octagon."

He had to leave familiar territory and design a new mech from a different mold. It had to be another rushed design, though the generous margin of six hours should leave him with a decent mech this time.

First, he constructed a mental image again. With his frequent practice, he became more proficient in getting in the right mood. He hardly needed more than a minute to reach a state of sharpened mental focus.

The profile Ves received painted Lovejoy as a talkative but diligent cadet. He practiced a lot but became frustrated when his climb up the ranking stagnated. He reached a ceiling where he could not progress fast enough.

"He probably bumped against the people who benefited from genetic boosts." Ves guessed to himself. If he ended up in a situation like that, he'd tear his hair out until he became bald.

While the pilot could not improve, the mech could make all the difference. Ves thought back on the conversation he had with Patricia yesterday. Either the mech had to accommodate the pilot, or the pilot had to adjust to the mech.

"Well, I'm not designing a mass production model. I have specific information about the pilot so I don't have to dumb down my mech."

He envisioned a fairly advanced and mechanically complex mech. A whirling dancer with a sword. One that was swift and agile, but also one that benefited from strategically placed armor. Not enough to weigh it down too much, but enough to add some heft to each sword strike. The model should be nimble enough to facilitate heavy strikes where the entire weight of the mech was added to the attack.

With a solid image of the Sword Dancer, Ves went to work. He first picked out the basic components. In order to keep costs below a thousand points, he started picking the most essential parts first.

"A swordsman mech is built around its sword, so the first thing to choose is the weapon."

Ves had to admit he did not know much beyond the basics when it came to mech swords. As the default melee weapon for mechs, a mech sword was a heavy, sharp instrument of destruction. It had to be sharp enough to slice through armored portions and sturdy enough to support the weight of two mechs clashing against each other.

"It's got to be big and heavy, but how far should I go?"

The profile did not mention Lovejoy's preferred sword type. He could be specializing in a thin one-handed rapier or a heavy two-handed claymore. In the end, Ves made a judgement call and picked out a one-handed longsword model that cost a hundred points.

With the sword model in place, he designed the rest of the frame around the use of a one-handed sword. He spent two hundred points on a powerful pair of engines and power reactors, fifty points on high-performance energy cells, a hundred points on legs optimized for burst performance and a whopping two-hundred-and-fifty points for heavy but powerful arms.

He spent much of his remaining points on the parts he prioritized less. With two-hundred points spent on many entry-level parts like the sensors, cockpit and a backup laser pistol, he completely wiped out his savings.

As for his final hundred points, he picked out a middle-of-the-road armor system that only distinguished itself on the ease of which it could be compressed.

With all of the parts selected, Ves quickly drew up a basic design. He could afford to spend more time on its design, so he made sure to optimize his prospective mech for close-ranged high-speed engagements.

He tweaked many things such as strengthening the fingers so their grip on the sword became stronger. He reduced some of his mech's rear torso armor in order to improve his mech's agility. In order to keep the mech balanced, he also had to shift a few internal components so that the mech wouldn't have a tendency to tip over.

Once he finished a detailed outline of his design, he activated the forging module of his QuickForge system. His time was a little tight due to the lengthy procedure of compressing all of the armor plates, so he rushed through the construction again, though not as extreme.

Unlike Barakovski, he started from the inside and worked his way outward. This way, the mech's integrity could be insured while he could cut back on the alloy compression if he ran out of time.

Fortunately, it never came to that point. He spent a solid two hours on forming the internal frame and the internal components.

The QuickForge system worked a lot better than the second-hand 3D printer and assembly system his father acquired for his workshop. The assembly system even came with automated functions that automatically layed out the cabling and other internal infrastructure in the most optimal and non-intrusive way.

"If my assembly machine was as good as this one, I'd be able to assemble two mechs a day instead of a single mech over two days."

Once he reached the process of forging the armor plating, he got to witness how the QuickForge system fabricated them in a single comprehensive procedure. It definitely impressed him when he saw how various liquified materials combined together under intense pressure and heat, all of which happened in plain view. An extremely powerful combination of electromagnetic, gravitic and some other sorcery Ves wasn't aware of kept the process contained.

All that mattered was that he kept control over the process. Despite the dazzling technologies employed by the machine, the steps it followed differed little from the standard process.

His mech finally took shape after the plates started attaching to his frame. The metallic plates treated with the most rudimentary level of compression shone in blue. A sword that underwent a slightly different compression procedure came at the end. Combined with the thick arms and slim legs, it gave the mech an impression that it was an icy warrior.

As Ves had timed his work meticulously, he finished a few minutes before six hours had passed.

"Time's up designers! Lay down your work while your mech gets ready to fight. The first duel starts in a couple of minutes!"

He finished his job. Now it was up to his pilot. He hoped he could perform miracles with the Sword Dancer. After all, he formed this mech exclusively for him. He only found it unfortunate that he did not gain any new insights with regards to the ever-mystical X-Factor.

"I got a hint of a future direction with the Unicorn. Why do I feel I missed the opportunity with the Sword Dancer?"

Perhaps the extended time gave Ves too little pressure to feel impassioned. He was a little confused, to be honest. Could the X-Factor only be ignited when he was caught in an extreme mood? That made it difficult to employ it whenever he wanted to. After all, while he could hone his thoughts, he could not completely control his emotions.

"I'll have to unfold this puzzle later. First I have to prepare for repairs."

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Lovejoy waited in his pod. His initial high at the news of his successful advancement made way for apprehension. He knew that he'd face formidable opponents from now on. Even those ranked near the bottom of the top 100 posed a threat to him with the right mech.

"Hopefully my designer has got a brain this time and provides me with a sword."

In order to ensure fairness, the pilots did not have any contact with the outside world. Cadet Lovejoy had no impression of his mech designer, other than his work was solid. If he could produce a mech like the Unicorn under three hours, it meant he was a viable contender.

He licked his lips. "If I manage to reach the finals and stand out, I might get an offer from the Carnegie Group's Mech Corps."

Every cadet from the Abelard Academy dreamed of joining the Mech Corps. Those employed directly in the Group's most prestigious branch enjoyed the most riches and authority. In return, they'd have to participate in the most pitched battles under their flag and had to live a regimented life.

"Even with the obligations, such an impressive job will set me up for life."

His pod lit up. His mech stood ready to receive his consciousness. Cadet Lovejoy opened up his mind and fell into the usual routine of letting his mind engulf his new mech.

"What the, it's there again?!" He muttered as he felt a tingling brush past his mind. "There's definitely something wrong with my neural interface. Why didn't I report this anomaly to the technicians yesterday?"

He swore to himself. He was about to enter a match. This was no time to fix his technical issues.

"Urgh. Next time then."

Once the connection process finished, Lovejoy cautiously extended his senses. He found nothing out of place, so he let down his guard and beheld his new mech.

The sensations overwhelmed him for a bit. The mech moved so smooth that he was confused whether it was his own body. Though he eventually calmed down when he experienced the usual sluggishness customary to mechs, he still enjoyed this new mech.

"This machine is a lot better than the training mechs of the academy!" He exclaimed once he got used to its movements. "Too bad the designer chose to accompany my mech with a longsword."

Mech longswords were characterized by their versatility. They could be wielded with one hand or two hands and they could both slash and pierce through well-protected sections if accompanied by sufficient force.

This versatility also turned them into the jack-of-all-trades of mech swords. Lovejoy preferred wielding larger two-handed swords. His fighting style revolved around generating rotational momentum in order to unleash a flurry of devastating slashes. Such a style put great importance on the durability of the weapon.

The match started before he could consider anything else. The darkness around him disappeared, revealing a desert arena environment.

Lovejoy was ambivalent about the environment. His mech did not rely too much on heat-generating weapons so he should have an advantage. On the other hand, the lack of obstacles meant he could be shot down from a distance. It all depended on the opponent.

When Lovejoy turned on his sensors, he spotted a very powerful signal. "That's got to be a heavy mech."

His brows furrowed at the discovery. Heavy mechs sacrificed mobility for armor and firepower. Each mech that wanted to take down a heavy boulder like that had to make a lot of sacrifices.

His Sword Dancer stepped closer. He took his time due to the limited size of the arena. The moderate pace also allowed him to adjust his footing on the sandy soil. Each environment posed different challenges to mechs, and sandy deserts played hell with footing. Fortunately, while his mech's legs were not too big, the soles were sufficiently wide enough to avoid sinking too deep.

The heavy mech came into view. Considering its size and bulk, it did not move from its place, lest it mess up its own footing.

"Damn, it's a heavy skirmisher. Still, this happens to be one of its worst environments."

The second round's successive duels took place in random arena environments. This was standard in many mech duels. It just so happened that this heavy skirmisher that was built around heat-generating weapons like its wrist-mounted flamethrowers and shoulder-mounted laser cannons radiated an immense amount of heat.

In a hot environment like this simulated desert, that was a deathknell.

"Haha, this is my lucky day!" Lovejoy cheered and approached his opponent in a zigzag pattern.

The heavy skirmisher readied its flamethrowers but started with firing its laser cannons first. The high-powered, long-ranged weapons possessed decent accuracy. Their lightspeed beams could not be dodged when they fired, so Lovejoy could only dodge while relying on his intuition and the angle of their barrels.

"Goddammit, whoever designed that mech is an expert on laser weapons!"

The targeting systems of the heavy mech seemed to excel in locking onto his twirling Sword Dancer. Without a shield, Lovejoy had no choice but allow his mech to get hit a couple of times. His Sword Dancer tried to mitigate as much damage as possible by spreading out the hits. Still, he suffered a devastating strike when his mech's left arm melted into uselessness.

"You'll pay for that!"

With the longsword held in a single arm, he closed the distance with vengeful wrath. The mech he piloted complimented his every thoughts, allowing him to metaphorically dance along his mech. It was a sublime experience that brought his piloting skill to a greater height. He even improved his dodging skill.

Now that he reached a close range, he started to circle around the heavy mech. His speed overcame the slow rotation of the powerful but sluggish laser cannons. The skirmisher gave up on the overheated lasers and raised its arms.

Twin gouts of chemically enhanced flames departed from the wrists. The desert turned even more stiflingly hot from the immense heat. Even Lovejoy got the illusion that he entered an oven. His mech frantically jumped back in order to avoid the initial flames.

As the burning liquids caught nothing, they fell onto the desert and kept burning. Lovejoy's eyes sparked as he tried to circle around the fallen flames and approach the skirmisher from behind. The heavy mech was not complacent, and fired another gout of flames, only for the swordsman mech to jump back unscathed.

After repeating this pattern several times, the heavy skirmisher eventually got surrounded by its own flames. The temperature in the center of the conflagration kept rising.

"Hahaha, need a light?" Lovejoy laughed as he wondered which pilot allowed himself to get boxed in by his own flames.

The enemy pilot must have been a pampered specialist who only knew how to pilot a single mech type. Someone like Lovejoy who patiently mastered the basics of every kind of mech and weapon before settling for swords disdained those who took shortcuts. He had to work twice as hard in the academy in order to climb his way to the top of the rankings.

"I don't know which lazy bastard you are, but you're finished!"

The rest of the match held very little suspense. Lovejoy holstered his sword and retrieved his dinky little laser pistol. He kept a healthy distance from the flames and circled around while firing his pistol through the flames. The sheer bulk of the skirmisher made it easy to hit the mech, even if most of the shots got flaked off by its imposing armor.

Outside the arena, the commentators noted the strange circumstance of this duel.

"Look at that duel. I have not seen such a farce in three years. Those are extremely persistent flames. Normally, I'd complement the designer for formulating such a strong accelerant, but with such a clueless pilot he might as well shoot himself in the foot!"

"The pilot is Michael Forneau. He's a renowned laser marksman. Such a mech should allow him to play to his full strengths, if not for the addition of the flamethrower. Has he ever attended a single class on skirmishers? Keeping track of your flames is the first lesson pounded into your head!"

"I don't know about you, but in my opinion Cadet Forneau is unworthy of appearing on this stage. What a disgraceful performance for someone lauded to be a future expert!"

Not everyone in the audience agreed. Pilots only had a limited amount of time to get proficient with mechs. It took years to gain a basic amount of proficiency in every variety of mechs and weapons. If the time spent on broadening a pilot's range of skills was instead focused on deepening them, they could have more expert and ace pilots.

Advanced pilots like Ves' cousin Melinda were a dime in a dozen. Any decent academy churned out boatloads of advanced pilots every year. However, even a great second-rate state like the Friday Coalition could not produce a large amount of expert pilots. Demand still vastly exceeded supply.

As the commentators chattered, the constant damage wore down on the heavy skirmisher. After five straight minutes of shooting, the flames started to subside but the heavy mech was dangerously overheated. Its pilot prudently forfeited the match in order to avoid damaging his mech any further when the chance of salvaging a victory was nonexistent.

"That was easy." Cadet Lovejoy thought as his damaged mech left the arena and returned to the embrace of the mech designer. His consciousness disconnected from the machine. His next duel commenced in less than two hours so he had plenty of time to take a break.

Ves on the other hand shook his head at the silliness of his opponent. He had no complaints about getting an easy victory, though he lamented the plentiful times his baby got hit by the shoulder-mounted laser cannons. Once his mech moved close enough to see the damage in detail, he hissed.

"Even compressed armor can't stop a high-powered laser beam."

Laser cannons possessed a destructive amount of energy. While the compressed armor did their job of preventing the damage from reaching the internals, much of the armor needed replacement. Lovejoy tried to spread out the damage over the mech's entire frame, and while it was the right call, it also gave Ves a headache.

The difference between laser cannons and laser rifles did not merely extend to scale. Weapon designers often built laser rifles for the purpose of dealing long-term sustainable damage. Efficiency and durability mattered more than power and penetration.

Laser cannons turned those priorities around. They were built to instantly melt through thick layers of armor and deliver a devastating amount of thermal energy in an instant. Pilots on the battlefield loved using laser cannons due to their combination of high penetration and ease of resupply.

In short, the damage the laser cannons inflicted had hurt his mech a lot. The only thing Ves could do is fabricate as much replacements as possible before the next duel started.

He whizzed up a new set of compressed armor plating, focusing on the most essential parts first. Fortunately, the short duration of the duel worked in his favor. Not all of the plates needed replacements so he fabricated enough and managed to replace all of the damaged plating just before two hours had passed.

"I can't do much about the residual heat damage that managed to get past the armor." Ves muttered regretfully. Those lasers packed a really huge punch, and even if the armor dispersed most of the heat, a small amount still wrecked havoc deeper inside his mech. "It won't matter too much for the next duel, but if the internal damage accumulates, there's nothing I can do."

Replacing internal components always entailed more difficulties. It took a lot more time to replace the internals due to the interconnection of the parts.

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The second duel commenced. Cadet Lovejoy became accustomed to the anomalous sensations and brushed them off as inconsequential ghosts. Instead, he focused his attention on the state of his mech.

His mouth curled out. "I like my designer more and more. My armor is back to its shiny state."

His Sword Dancer gripped its sword in anticipation of the next fight. Lovejoy hoped his opposition had more bite this time. The last duel was too disgraceful for him to feel any pride.

The darkness receded, revealing a normal suburban environment. Small houses and municipal parks dotted the arena. The obstacles were tall enough to hinder a mech but short enough to avoid blocking their view. It was a tricky environment that favored ranged weapons.

"Over there!" He said as he zeroed in on his opposition. It turned out to be a light harasser, a mech that specialized in running rings around melee mechs like his Sword Dancer. "Damn, this one's a challenge."

The only thing hopeful about his second duel was that the light mech sustained a lot of damage. Even after receiving some repairs, it still suffered moderate damage to its torso where an artillery shell must have exploded.

"I can use that to my advantage."

Lovejoy moved the sword back to its place and retrieved the flimsy little laser pistol again. He felt a little depressed that he couldn't showcase his swordsmanship and instead had to rely on his pitiful backup weapon. Still, against a mech that moved faster than him, he'd be a fool to chase the enemy.

The light harasser responded first by firing its light laser rifle at him. The firing rate of the weapon was high, but the power behind each laser beam was lackluster. Even if the Sword Dancer received hits, it did not affect its integrity at all due to the strength of its compressed armor.

Ignoring the intermittent damage for now, the Sword Dancer closed the distance. While the light harasser tried to maintain the distance, the complex environment did not always make that possible.

While any mech possessed sufficient force to crash through any residential home, such an act slowed it down while also incur some minor damage. For a fragile mech that prized its mobility, that was unacceptable.

"Get back here you chicken!" Lovejoy yelled over the comm as he started firing his pistol.

While its power paled in comparison to the rifle in the harasser's hands, the light mech's armor could not withstand too many hits. Lovejoy carefully paced his shots in order to avoid overheating the pistol. He aimed specifically at the light mech's damaged torso in order to exacerbate its internal damage.

Thus, the two mechs engaged in a lengthy shootout. The rate of fire slowed down for both mechs once their weapons overheated. The laser rifle held an advantage in that aspect as the larger weapon dispersed its heat much better. The Sword Dancer started to accumulate a lot more damage than its opponent.

"Man, this is why I hate light mechs." Lovejoy complained and let loose a few more curses when a lucky laser beam shot a portion of his mech's damaged leg.

The light mech noticed that the Sword Dancer's legs were slimmer than normal and therefore focused much of his firepower there. The devastating hit damaged some internals which abruptly reduced the speed of Lovejoy's mech.

"C'mon! How is that discount laser rifle able to get past my armor!"

The tables turned a minute later. Though the Sword Dancer's legs started to get chewed up, the pistol finally achieved a promising result. The latest low-powered beam that escaped the pistol managed to penetrate the scorched section of the light mech's torso. All of the successive hits to that area paid off.

The light mech toppled over as its power reactor initiated an emergency shutdown. The enemy pilot quickly signalled his surrender before Lovejoy could unleash a few more shots.

In truth, if both mechs were in their peak condition, the Sword Dancer would have lost. The slower medium mech had no way of catching up to a light mech piloted by someone competent. While its laser rifle might be a light variant, it still functioned as a primary weapon. The backup laser pistol wielded by the Sword Dancer could not compare.

"Truly fate smiles on me again." Lovejoy smirked as he realized this disparity. He won a match that he should have lost. "Bad luck for you. Try to keep your mech in better shape next time!"

Still, with the Sword Dancer's half-mangled leg, he risked suffering the same situation in his next duel. He hoped his designer could fix up the leg with the remaining time available. His shootout against the light mech expended a lot of time.

In fact, Ves already started to feel depressed. While lasers might not be the most optimal weapon to chew through armor, once it got past the layer of protection, they were capable of dealing immense damage.

The abrupt transfer of energy wrecked or melted a lot of vulnerable little components near the area struck by the beam. Some cables and tiny components vaporized entirely, while more distant parts only suffered from the symptoms of extreme overheating. In a practical perspective, these half-molten parts might as well not be functional anymore.

For a proper repair job, Ves needed to clean up all of the damage no matter how lightly they got off.

"I only have one-and-a-half hour left. That's not enough to repair the entire leg."

Technicians hated these kinds of repair jobs. While Ves was lucky that the internal frame didn't sustain any substantial damage, sorting out all of the tiny components and replacing them took a lot of tedium. He also had to set aside the other damage the mech sustained.

"I bet this QuickForge bucket can automate the repairs." Ves boldly guessed. The amount of automation packed in the machine could fill an entire library of books. He refused to believe the machine had to be operated manually to this degree. "They likely turned off the easy mode so mech designers like me have to work for our results."

With no other alternative, Ves helplessly started to repair the leg. He tried to save as much time as possible by ripping out entire chunks of machinery. He cared little whether the things he removed were functional or not. As far as he was concerned, the proximity to excessive heat had compromised them all. Testing out each component's integrity took too much time.

"Now I have to fabricate and put back the replacements."

Most of the internal portions consisted of simple parts like cables, bolts and other miscellaneous things. They were simple parts that required very little thought in their production. The real challenge started when he had to put the parts back into the hollowed-out leg.

Ves had the mistaken impression that he was playing a puzzle in the highest difficulty. Sometimes he had to stuff the parts through an obstacle in order to put it in its rightful place. He prioritized speed over caution, which did not help much with the repairs as other parts sometimes got bent out of shape.

As the clock started to expire, Ves rushed his repairs and even started to slip up here and there. The damage he inadvertently caused affected the leg only marginally, but at least he was able to put replacement armor back into place.

"Alright! Let the third duels commence!"

Cadet Lovejoy had not fully recovered from his last match when he was thrown back into the Sword Dancer. The extended duel frustrated him. When his consciousness fully grasped his mech, he quickly inspected the damage.

He clicked his teeth. "The leg looks better, but not at its best. My armor coverage is still the same."

The spread-out laser shots also scorched the Sword Dancer's other sections aside from the legs. Though they did not penetrate the compressed armor, they still weakened it substantially.

The third duel started when the frozen lake environment got revealed. The thick layers of ice ensured that most mechs could maintain their footing, but any major impacts to the surface might lead to drastic consequences. No spots of lands could be found anywhere.

The frozen environment heavily favored mechs that generated a high amount of heat. For example, lasers could fire more often and with higher power without worrying about overheating.

On the other hand, not everything worked optimally in a heavily frozen environment. Many mechs were designed to work optimally at average Terran temperature ranges. The further the environment deviated from the standard, the more some parts started to deteriorate.

"My mech should be fine." Lovejoy judged, though he admitted he was no expert. "A swordsman mech is not a mechanically complex machine. It shouldn't have too many vulnerable stuff inside."

The Sword Dancer swiftly trudged through the howling snow. He had to find his opponent and finish him off as fast as possible in order to buy his mech designer more time. His sensors beeped a minute later as it found a heat source.

The silhouette turned out to be a medium knight. The mech looked brand new. Aside from some minor scratches on its armor, the entire mech appeared as if it had never entered a duel. That held worrying implications for Lovejoy.

"Either the pilot or the mech designer is a prodigy."

He refused to consider the case where both of them turned out to be geniuses. The only thing in his favor was that swordsman mechs usually beat knights in a one-on-one. The knight mech spotted the Sword Dancer and readied its pristine kite shield.

"You better entertain me properly this time." Lovejoy taunted the enemy knight. "I just came off a couple of duels where my sword wasn't even needed. Hopefully you'll last long enough to satisfy my lust for battle."

While the environment could be better, Lovejoy rejoiced he could finally have an old-fashioned melee duel. He increased the speed of his mech and noted that the fixed up leg held out for now. Reassured, he heartedly threw himself into the fight by attempting an empowered horizontal slash.

The knight was no dummy and positioned its shield in place to deflect the obvious attack. However, the incredible force behind the blow hammered the knight a few steps backward. The first blow was not intended as a killing strike, but as a setup move that broke the enemy's guard.

Cadet Lovejoy's eyes gleamed as his mech danced around the shield. His Sword Dancer abruptly reserved its rotation, and its sword swung back from the other direction.

The knight sluggishly tried to regain its footing while simultaneously bringing his shield back up. Somehow, the pilot managed to skillfully do both in an instant. The slash resulted in nothing but another dent in the shield.

Despite the disappointing result, Lovejoy kept up his aggression. He slashed and stabbed while circling around the knight.

Meanwhile, the pilot of the knight maintained composure and blocked each strike without fail. Sometimes he even retaliated by stabbing with the sword in turn, which pushed the Sword Dancer back. The knight mech turned into an impregnable turtle.

After a few minutes of useless exchanges, the knight suddenly diverted from its routine. After fending off another sword strike, it slammed the tip of its kite shield onto the ice beneath their feet.

The constant maneuvers had weakened the ice layers to the point of forming cracks. The downward shield strike completely cracked open the damaged ice, causing both mechs to lose their stability.

The knight deftly escaped the unstable area due to initiating the move.

The Sword Dancer was caught off-guard, and almost responded too late. Only its excellent agility and reaction speed allowed Lovejoy to catch up and jump to a safer spot.

A hole the size of ten mechs appeared between the two mechs. Lovejoy smacked himself in the face for almost getting done in by this move. If his mech fell into the ice, he'd not only lose, he might as well totalled the entire mech. Not all mechs fared well in water unless they were specifically designed for that purpose.

Lovejoy took his opponent more seriously. Though he did not recognize his opponent, he acknowledged his skill. "This fellow is top 30 material. We're almost evenly matched."

The frozen lake environment annoyed him. He did not relish sinking down in the icy abyss. After circling around the newly formed hole, he resumed his assault against the knight, though this time he upped his guard against any further surprises.

After the next few exchanges, the enemy pilot proved its mettle. Having adjusted to Lovejoy's tempo, the knight started to handle the incoming attacks better while delivering more poisonous retaliations.

The knight suddenly sidestepped instead of blocking the the latest attack. The Sword Dancer had overextended, leaving it open to the follow-up shield bash. The solid chunk of metal thunked against the Sword Dancer's head. It instantly crushed half its face, most notably destroying its optics.

Just as Lovejoy frantically switched his view to the backup optics, the knight slashed its sword. As the Sword Dancer had reflexively jumped back, the sword failed to strike the torso. Instead, it managed to cut off an arm.

Lovejoy screamed in frustration. He had not expected this sitting duck of a knight to be a porcupine. At least his mech hadn't lost its sword arm.

"I can't keep this up. I have to change the game."

The enemy pilot's skill restrained his sword play. It was as if he specialized in crushing the dreams of other swordsmen. After a few seconds of thought, he grinned.

"Since you like to play with ice, let me give you a nice surprise."

The Sword Dancer retreated a bit in order to open up some space. The knight stood in place, shield ready to receive the next attack. Lovejoy let out a warcry as his mech thundered forward.

Just as his mech reached the knight, Lovejoy dragged his mech to the side and made a couple of complex maneuvers. His mech half-slid over the ice while directed his sword against the ice. The sword hammered the ice several times, creating cracks near the knight.

The Sword Dancer took advantage of its superior mobility to circle around the knight while repeatedly impacting the ice underneath. While a sword was not the best tool to damage the ice, the Sword Dancer's arms was capable of transferring a lot of force which aided the mech in its task.

After completing a couple of rotations, the ice started to deteriorate on its own. The pilot of the knight panicked and quickly stomped out of the danger zone.

"Not today!" Lovejoy yelled as his mech circled around again and confronted the knight head-on with a shoulder bash. While the impact failed to damage the enemy mech, it succeeded in interrupting its escape. The transfer of force also sped along the collapse.

A second later, the knight disappeared. It fell down into the lake and sank down in the depths.

"I hate ice." Lovejoy said as he looked on from a few steps ahead. His mech escaped the waters at the last second by bouncing back from the enemy mech's shield. It was a close call and a risky one, but he succeeded in winning without dragging out the fight.

"Three down, one to go."

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Ves imagined that others had it worse. He certainly didn't envy the designer of the knight his mech faced in the previous duel. Repairing a submerged mech took a lot of time, perhaps days to get it right.

"Well, at least my mech has more working parts than broken ones. A busted head and an amputated arm is nothing to speak of after the third duel."

The competitions in the past had shown that results diverged wildly in the second round. The consecutive duels tested the skill of both the designer and the pilot. If either of them were not up to standard, the damage accumulated pretty fast, to the point of making the mech a derelict.

Only a gifted designer like Carter Gauge or a talented pilot like Richard Lovell could turn around this convention.

The duel above the frozen lake lasted a long time. The extreme thermal conditions that simulated a frozen planet environment played havoc with the internals, especially since the armor lost its weather-sealing capabilities in the previous duels. The rapid transition from hot to cold strained the more sensitive components.

"I don't have time to fix up the internals. My mech is has enough redundancies so that a couple of faulty components won't break the mech."

Ves only had a limited time to fix up the arm and head. In his view, both of them had the same priority, but he decided to start with the arm.

"Fortunately, it's a clean cut. I don't have to sort out the damage components."

Forging a replacement arm did not take a lot of time. As all of the internals had to be made from scratch, Ves did not have to resort to stuffing new parts in an existing space. It only took about thirty minutes to create a new arm, and an additional ten minutes to add the accompanying compressed armor.

That left him with just enough time to sort out the head. The deformed head posed some difficulties to Ves. He did not have enough time to fabricate an entirely new head. Instead, he put his jury-rigging skill to good use. He cut off the deformed section and cleaned up as much damage as he could. After fabricating a replacement sensor module, he carefully put it inside.

He flash-forged a hastily designed mask and put it over the hollow front of the head. The Sword Dancer appeared creepy now, but what mattered the most to Ves was that the sensors were operational now. The mask might not provide a lot of protection, but it was better than keeping the entire head exposed.

"It'll do."

Time ran out before Ves could do much more. He really did not feel comfortable releasing a substandard mech from his embrace. Having gotten used to the MTA's strict standards, it was against his conscience to deliver a piece of junk to a pilot.

When Lovejoy connected to the mech for the final time, he also felt let down by its damaged state. "The arm is alright, but the rest of the frame is still degraded."

He sighed a little as he got used to his mech's deteriorated performance. "I know it's been hard on you, pal, but you've got one fight left to go. Don't disappoint the crowd."

Through luck and skill, he already eked out three marvellous victories. According to past trends, he should have reached the top 25 so far, but only at the bottom of the list. One loss might knock him down enough to miss to incredible opportunity to participate in the final round.

"There's no way I'm going to miss this chance. Fame, riches and more awaits me." Lovejoy grinned as he daydreamed about all the amazing luxuries he could finally enjoy. "Hopefully my final opponent is a mech in a worse shape than mine."

The match started when the environment finished materializing. It turned out to be a hilly prairie. Vast green fields only interrupted by vision-obstructing hills encompassed Lovejoy's view. The beauty of the environment masked a deadly undercurrent.

Such a wide open environment with rolling hills and no other obstacles provided ranged mechs with an ideal shooting environment. Lovejoy lowered his mech's stance so that it wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb too much. As the Sword Dancer climbed its way up a nearby hill, his hastily repaired sensors pinged when it detected a very powerful heat source.

"What. The. Hell." Lovejoy uttered when he saw what made his sensors go mad. "How much energy does it take to keep that thing afloat?!"

What Cadet Lovejoy encountered was the now-infamous Pterodactyl. Outside the arena, much of the crowd's attention got drawn to the gigantic flying mech. This strange and extremely powerful beast mech stomped over its opponent through superior range and overwhelming armor ever since it came from the hand of one of the competition's most popular contestant.

"Looks like Ves Larkinson's swordman mech is matched up against Carter Gauge's Pterodactyl."

"Better call the undertaker, because this poor little sword-wielding mech stands no chance against Gauge's brilliant work."

"Ordinarily you'd think so, but the Pterodactyl suffered a lot of damage back in its third duel. I'm kind of hopeful for the mech called the Sword Dancer to be honest."

"Are you blind? That dinky little medium mech only has a laser pistol! How many times does he have to shoot until the Pterodactyl's armor get scratched?"

"Anything can happen, baby. Even Gauge can't work miracles. The Pterodactyl's bottom armor still has holes."

Ves learned that Gauge met a strong opponent for the third duel. His mech fought hard and finally overpowered the enemy cannoneer at a substantial cost. While the flying mech's armor could take a lot of damage, it also made it hard to replace if time was short.

Much of the armor on the Pterodactyl had not been treated with the fanciest techniques. This meant that the Sword Dancer's backup weapon stood a tiny chance of inflicting major damage.

As a pilot thrown into an arena, Lovejoy was not aware of those facts. Regardless, he would never despair just because he encountered an overwhelming opponent. He would have long given up if he shrugged his head at every setback.

"This thing's big and heavy, so it takes a lot of power to keep it in the air. If I can drag out the match and put my mech into power saving mode, I can drag it from the air." Lovejoy calmly analyzed once he got over his fear.

"It's slow to fly so I can outrun its range if necessary, but I doubt this aerial mech is helpless in this regard. The designer must be someone really incredible for designing such a marvel."

The Sword Dancer retrieved its trusty laser pistol and started to fire at the flying fortress. The low-powered laser beams hit a wide area around the Pterodactyl. At this distance, many shots flew wide despite the target's huge size and slow speed. The Sword Dancer wasn't optimized for marksmanship and the weapon came with too many limitations.

The shots that did hit the Pterodactyl achieved nothing but alert the enemy pilot. The lumbering flight mech turned its avian head towards the Sword Dancer and fired off a massive ballistic shell from its beak.

"This isn't fair!" Lovejoy yelped as he flung his mech over a hill.

The top of the hill exploded into chunks of soil as the shell detonated with a lot more power than usual. The Sword Dancer had to keep dancing away as a torrent of rapid laser fire erupted from the Pterodactyl's sides.

Lovejoy frantically kept dodging amid the aerial bombardment dedicated to turning his mech into scrap. Even as he tried to keep his mech operational, he slowly realized something strange.

"This mech's marksmanship is garbage. The mech might look shiny, but the pilot is no good."

If someone who specialized in ranged weapons was at the cockpit, his Sword Dancer might already be destroyed. Lovejoy saw an opportunity once he realized his situation.

First, he tried the safest option. He shot back at the mech with his laser pistol but only occasionally. He also deactivated most of his sensors and put his mech into a less intensive mode. The state only ensured the engines received ample amounts of power. The rest had to make do with less.

As Lovejoy put his full attention on dodging the shells and lasers, his mech only received minor damage in return. Without any distractions, he became more proficient in predicting his opponent's aim and move just a fraction of a second before a salvo of laser beams arrived at the spot his mech previously stood.

Sometimes, skill trumped over gear. Lovejoy started to grin. While the enemy mech was a grand feat of engineering, it nevertheless did not suit the enemy pilot.

In truth, the battle damage the Pterodactyl suffered in the last duel still haunted the flying mech. Its head had also been hit, which destroyed its excellent targeting sensors. Other systems also suffered significant damage when its bottom armor got hit. Even with Gauge's excellent skill, he only restored the Pterodactyl up to eighty percent of its best state.

About five minutes later, the Pterodactyl's pilot caught onto Lovejoy's strategy. The flier stopped firing most of its weapons like its finger got stuck to the trigger. The mech slowed down while unleashing its laser beams at a much more measured pace. The pilot also concentrated more on aiming properly, which gave the Sword Dancer a lot more grief.

"This is stupid! How can I get hit more often if that flight mech isn't firing its laser beams so rapidly?"

Cadet Lovejoy knew he had to change the situation. He injected more power to the Sword Dancer's engines. As the mech sped up, it tried to increase the range and therefore make it harder to hit.

As a flying heavy mech, the Pterodactyl nevertheless flew faster than most medium mechs. With its flight systems at full capacity, it slowly caught up to the running Sword Dancer and even managed to hit its rear armor with its low-intensity laser barrage.

"Hah, how much power are you burning? Can you keep this up forever?!" Lovejoy taunted at the flying brick that sought to overtake his mech.

There was a good reason why flying mechs never exceeded the medium weight class. The antigrav systems had to expend a lot of energy to keep all of that armor afloat. Getting it to move wasted even more precious energy. This energy consumption rapidly built up the moment the flying mech increased its velocity.

The pilot realized this fact belatedly and stopped accelerating like crazy. Instead, it used its superior lasers to bombard the Sword Dancer from a comfortable range.

"Oh well, it was worth a try." Lovejoy shrugged. While the enemy pilot was not as good as him, he was still a cadet who attended the prestigious Abelard Academy. Cheap tricks didn't work on him. He had to figure something else than simply running away.

In the standard rulebook of mech duels, the side that played too passively lost by default. The mech that weighed the lightest was burdened with the obligation to seek the initiative. This age-old rule prevented light mechs from running away from their heavier counterparts for the duration of the entire match.

Obviously, mech pilots who favored heavy mechs lobbied hard to get this rule accepted.

"There should be an exception when it comes to flying mechs! This heavy pig with wings is just ridiculous!"

While the heavy mech was in the open, it enjoyed a commanding view of the entire battlefield. No matter where the Sword Dancer tried to hide, it could not avoid getting peppered by lasers. Whenever it tried to hide behind a low hill, the Pterodactyl destroyed it with an explosive shell. The sheer volume of fire caused the mech to get hit a couple of times. Fortunately, the shots were spread out, so no single part received critical damage.

For now at least.

Lovejoy estimated he could keep up his dodging routine for about ten minutes. After that, most of his rear armor would be melted away, leaving his mech vulnerable to a crippling shot.

The few times he shot back with his pistol, he might as well be spitting against a wall. How could he turn his awful situation around and bring down that overweight bird?

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Ves clenched his fists as he looked downward at the stage where his Sword Dancer tried to fight against an aerial fortress. Even he was rendered helpless when facing one of Carter Gauge's impossibly advanced aerial mech.

The technology of that time shouldn't be able to support such incredible flight systems. Gauge must have spent quite a bit of time customizing the outdated wings and bring it up to the current generation.

Ordinarily, that might have led to his folly. After all, the more time he spent on the wings, the less time he could allocate on the armor and internals. Looking at the Pterodactyl's performance showed that the flying heavy mech did not lose out that much in other aspects. Its armor was especially resilient even after some hasty repairs.

Even the audience thought the match would end with no suspense and turned away to view more even matchups.

"I'm impressed Cadet Lovejoy hasn't lost his mech yet." One of the commentators noted when he switched his view. "Out of all of the Pterodactyl's opponents, he's already lasted the longest."

"That's because Lovejoy is paying more attention to dodging than thinking about hitting back. If he's trying to outlast the Pterodactyl in terms of energy consumption, then he's fooling himself. The heavy mech is packed with energy cells."

"The only chance he can squeeze a victory out of this narrow road is to get a lucky hit with his low-grade pistol."

With only about an estimated ten minutes left before the laser barrage cut through the medium mech's armor, the Sword Dancer had very little else to go on. Lovejoy scowled as he pulled out every trick in his bag in order to stay ahead of the suppressive laser fire from above.

From the frequency of the lasers, he judged the heavy mech had plenty of reserves. In contrast, his Sword Dancer had been designed for short-duration high-intensity combat. Even at a lower power setting, it still drained a significant portion of energy over time.

"I have to finish this quickly." Lovejoy concluded with difficulty.

He gave up on saving power and instead routed more of it towards feeding his pistol. The weapon beeped in alarm when it exceeded its recommended safety limit. Lovejoy had to dig through the settings and override all the safeties.

The weapon's programming estimated that the pistol had about three percent chance of blowing up with each shot. This probability increased in accordance with the amount of heat the weapon accumulated.

"I don't care if it will blow up in a couple of minutes!" He screamed at his pistol and ruthlessly tore down the last safety holding him back from firing high-powered beams.

The pistol whined audibly as it discharged the accumulated energy in a single eye-watering blast. The beam shot straight into the sky and burned a small gap in the heavy mech's wings.

That gap represented the first real sign of damage on the Pterodactyl. It gave Lovejoy hope, though the Pterodactyl also started to increase its speed and sway a little bit more. Both sides increased their power consumption in order to put a quick end to the match.

The broadcasters took notice of the increased intensity of their fight and put the battle on the main projection. Alongside the ongoing duel, the faces of the pilots and the mech designers were added to the sides.

"Look at the faces of Larkinson and Lovejoy! They are still clinging to the last shreds of hope. Can their Sword Dancer defeat the Pterodactyl in one of the most uneven clashes ever?"

"Our processors have analyzed the odds of Cadet Lovejoy managing to score a deadly blow. He only has a 2.3 percent chance in the best scenario!"

"It's safe to say that Carter Gauge has racked up another victory. There's no way the Sword Dancer's pistol can get past that heavy mech's armor."

Despite the long odds, everyone's attention was glued to the tragic battle. They all hoped the underdog mech could pull off a miracle and put a dent into Carter Gauge's invincible halo.

Those affiliated with the Carnegie Group had more reason than many to support Gauge's opponents. Of all the talents from Leemar who faced the dreaded genius, none had high hopes of matching him equally in the field of mech design.

Where would their faces be if they let someone nurtured by a rival partner of the Coalition trample on their talents?

A lot was at stake for this fight. As the Sword Dancer had been matched up against weak opponents, it had a high probability of dropping off the top 25.

As for the Pterodactyl, it had vanquished against a couple of strong opponents so its passage into the top 25 was assured. A fourth victory in this round would cap off Gauge's invincible halo and propel his momentum into an unstoppable tide once he reached the finals.

A few minutes went by as Lovejoy kept dancing with the devil. His pistol glowed with excessive heat to the point of starting to melt its some of its softer furnishings. The Sword Dancer flirted with disaster each time it fired an overcharged laser beam at the gigantic hovering mech.

The Pterodactyl stoically endured the high-powered laser beams. The accuracy of the pistol left something to be desired and the Sword Dancer also had to keep moving which further degraded its aim. Though the heavy mech presented a large target, half of the beams went wide. Those that did hit its surface only melted a couple of widely distributed holes in its heavy armor.

The next shot achieved a different result. By sheer coincidence, the beam impacted near a previously damaged weak point at a spot covered up by flimsier replacement armor. The consecutive hit possessed enough power to melt through the damaged portion and inflict serious damage to the internals underneath.

Just as the Pterodactyl suffered a minor explosion in its underbelly, the Sword Dancer's pistol also succumbed to the abuse. The backup firearm had never been designed to tolerate this much heat, especially when firing at a constant frequency. The weapon exploded, causing heat and shrapnel to engulf the Sword Dancer's outstretched arm.

"No!" Lovejoy yelled as the surface of his mech withstood the rest of the shrapnel. He cared little for his mech's lost arm or the scratches it received. Now that he lost his only weapon, he had no means of damaging the Pterodactyl. The game was as good as lost.

As for the heavy mech, despite the damage it suffered, the mech was built to take a beating. Heavy mechs never collapsed after suffering a single penetrating hit. Even if it lost some power, the Pterodactyl possessed enough redundancies to keep it afloat.

"What is the Pterodactyl doing? It's stopped firing. According to our readings, its weapons should have plenty of juice left."

"It's hovering closer to the Sword Dancer. The pilot wants to gloat over his victory!"

Some of the people in the audience started booing at the unsportsmanlike behavior. Only the most conceited individuals disrespected their opponents this way. The worst thing about the act was that the latter half of the duel had been broadcast to the entire Komodo Star Sector.

On the main projection above, both the pilot and Gauge adopted arrogant expressions. Though joined together through circumstance, they both compliment each other nicely. Gauge wanted to prove his superiority by partnering with a bottom-ranked pilot, while the pilot grew an inflated head due to the excellent mechs he received.

A shadow hung over the motionless Sword Dancer. Lovejoy already gave up on the match and sank down in his simulation pod. He paid little attention to the ongoing match.

Like a caveman staring helplessly at an aircar, the Pterodactyl emphasized its superiority by maintaining its altitude over the helpless swordsman mech. It even dipped up and down in an exaggerated motion, which attracted further scorn from the audience.

"Finish it already you asshole!"

"You don't have to take it Lovejoy! Just forfeit the match!"

"You're despicable Gauge! If it's up to me, you'd already be tumbling out of Carnegie space!"

Back in his simulation pod, the constant beeping of his mech's proximity alarm grated Lovejoy's ears. He stopped wallowing about his impending defeat to see why his mech hadn't been sent to the graveyard yet.

"What the? Are you teabagging me?"

Lovejoy could accept getting beaten. He could even accept a loss against a much superior mech. After all, this competition revolved around mech designers, so the participating pilots already mentally accepted that they'd face such disparities.

What he couldn't accept is the enemy pilot rubbing his face with a victory he didn't deserve. The pilot of the Pterodactyl was certainly someone who certainly ranked far below him. The only reason he won in the first place was due to his massively overpowered mech.

"Even if you've won, that's no reason to diss me!"

A spark of anger ignited amid his overwhelming grief. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the sky while roaring at the Pterodactyl.

"You can trample my mech, but not my dignity!"

Caught in the fires of his rage, Cadet Lovejoy wanted to spite the Pterodactyl. He impulsively rotated the Sword Dancer and with a mighty heave he threw the sword at the behemoth in the sky.

Despite seldomly having thrown a sword before, the weapon somehow spun in the direction of the Pterodactyl without fail. The sword did not only carry the momentum of the Sword Dancer's spin. It also carried Lovejoy's defiance against his fate.

Back in the waiting room, Ves tracked the spinning sword as it flew up with undaunted purpose towards the heavy mech. He had no hopes for the desperate throw either. A sword flung from this much distance lost a lot of its power on the way up. With the kind of armor the Pterodactyl sported, it would be like a pebble thrown against a suit of armor.

Strangely enough, everyone who took note of the duel still fixed their gazes on the sword. It held a magnetic attraction to them, as if they could sympathize with Lovejoy's frustrations. They also thought it was a pity that his mech stood no chance.

Once the sword neared the Pterodactyl, the pilot instinctively tried to dodge it by moving his mech. Somehow, the mech's belated movements caused it to draw the sword to its damaged and exposed section. The pilot had forgotten all about the hole in his mech's armor and was completely clueless about his mistake.

Both Ves and Lovejoy widened their eyes. The tip of the sword scratched the edge of the molten hole before sinking deep inside the burned and melted internals. The remainder of its force allowed the blade to cut through many layers of weakened components before it finally reached a critical cable attached to the power reactor.

A massive machine like the Pterodactyl consumed a lot of energy even at rest. The interrupted cable along with the other damage the heavy mech had already suffered caused the spot to be engulfed in another localized explosion.

While ordinarily this explosion should not be any cause for concern, the safeties that were supposed to be in place had already been destroyed. The explosion caused a lot of damage to other components, which started up a cascade of errors.

The Pterodactyl suddenly lost seventy percent of its power. That was not enough to keep the mech in the air. The flight system whined as it tried to keep the mech at a constant altitude, to no avail.

The pilot woke up to the sudden crisis and frantically tried to redirect more power to the flight systems. Due to the damage his mech had already suffered, he found no alternative paths.

"What kind of piece of shit mech only has this many paths?!" He cussed, completely forgetting his earlier flaunting of his mech.

While an ordinary heavy mechs possessed a lot more redundancies, Gauge only received six hours of design time. He could not spare much energy in adding redundancies to his mech's internals when he had to invest most of his time in improving the flight systems.

Smoke trailed the Pterodactyl as it descended to the ground in a soft landing. The wings possessed sufficient enough power to avoid a crash landing. That did not help the Pterodactyl much when the mech had been designed solely for aerial combat. It did not even possess legs, which turned it into a sitting duck on the ground.

Lovejoy's eyes gleamed. Ignoring his mech's amputated arm and weaponless state, he drove his mech forward and approached the Pterodactyl just as it skid along the grass. The pilot of the heavy mech noted the danger and rerouted power from the flight systems to the laser mounts. A couple of weak beams started to pepper the Sword Dancer.

"As if those weakened lasers can save you!" Lovejoy laughed as the Sword Dancer took the lasers head-on, causing it to suffer some light damage in the process. The medium mech ignored the mosquito bites and jumped on top of the grounded Pterodactyl.

The entire audience stood still. Even the commentators had no words to say.

As a mech designed to bombard the ground from above, the Pterodactyl was not meant to attack any targets that landed on its back. When the side-mounted laser turrets turned around to face the assailant, the Sword Dancer simply grabbed the barrels of the lasers and snapped them off one by one. They only managed to unleash a dozen ineffectual beams before their mounts got wrecked.

Even the majestic heavy mech's beak-mounted cannon posed no threat to the Sword Dancer. Its range of motion only allowed the beak to swivel sideways. Just to be sure, Lovejoy stomped his mech's foot repeatedly on the head until its neck collapsed.

The Pterodactyl lost all of its weapons. The sudden reversal caught everyone by surprise.

"Are my eyes deceiving me?" A male commentator befuddled asked. "Did Gauge's mech got strung like a duck?"

"I don't think anyone believed this has happened. A thrown sword changed destiny. The undefeated has tasted defeat."

"Gauge must be stewing in anger right now. Look at his awful face!"

Lovejoy cared nothing for the commentary even if he could hear it. Somehow, he snatched victory from the jaws of defeat, so he tried to cling to it as tightly as possible. He resolved not to make the same mistake as his opponent and started to dig into the Pterodactyl.

Without a weapon and only one arm intact, the Sword Dancer could not inflict much damage to the grounded mech. It had to kick aside a loosened plate and dig into the internals with brute force.

After a couple of minutes of helplessly sitting around, the pilot finally bowed down. He could not take the humiliation and exited the match by forfeiting.

Ves and Lovejoy won their fourth duel after an arduous match. Their total victories in the second round propelled them to the single digits in the top 25. Their last victory especially gave them a lot of points. It was a no-brainer for them to move on to the finals.

"Thank you Lovejoy. You really saved my skin." Ves said with a smile. He really dodged a bullet there. He could not bear to think what he'd do if he narrowly missed the top 25.

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The next day, before the preshow began, an executive from the Carnegie Group took to the stage. He adopted a solemn face as he addressed the crowd that just arrived.

"We have an announcement to make. Cadet Freeman who pilots the mechs on behalf of Carter Gauge has been found dead in his dorm. Our investigators have ruled the cause of his death to be self-hanging. There are no signs that others are involved."

Everyone who listened to his words was stunned. Ves more so than others due to his indirect involvement to this incident. He didn't know his name, but Freeman was the pilot of the Pterodactyl that crashed and burned at the moment of its victory. Cadet Lovejoy achieved a miracle when he triumphed over a hopeless situation.

Had Gauge quietly eliminated Freeman? Ves did not believe a cadet could commit suicide through a method as slow as hanging. These cadets should all be strictly monitored. Security bots should also be patrolling around their dorms, ready to respond in seconds if a disturbance occurred.

Ves felt a chill when he considered that Gauge might not limit his rage to his idiotic pilot. After all, the mech that handed out his very public humiliation was designed by Ves and piloted by Lovejoy.

"We at Leemar are aware that our pilots and designers are put under an immense amount of pressure. Some believe that we should coddle them more. I disagree. Our young men might not have experienced much of what life has to offer, but they must learn to deal with adversity. Risk and reward goes hand in hand. Those who aim to win must always prepare to lose. Those who cannot endure these kinds of setbacks have no place to compete with the best."

Ves did not expect such harsh words after the death of a fellow contestant. He turned his head and noted that the graduates from Leemar showed no discontent. They fully agreed with this executive's views. His heart chilled a little further.

"Due to the unfortunate loss of his mech pilot, Carter Gauge has lost his qualifications to continue competing. He has agreed to withdraw from the Leemar Open Competition. We express our apologies for the irregularities. The finals will proceed with twenty-four pairs of pilots and designers."

It took some time, but the crowd quickly forgot about Freeman's apparent suicide. The festive music and impressive performances by the artists hired by Leemar did much to dispel the inauspicious cloud. Only Ves remained unmoved. He could add another name to his list of enemies.

Having successfully wiped away the stain, the event progressed to its third and final round.

"In the first round, we've tested our mech designers on their speed and timing. In the second round, we've pushed them on their endurance and their ability to set priorities. Now, in this final round, twenty-four of our best designers will now compete against each other with nothing more than pure design skill."

A projection of three QuickForge systems in a row appeared in front. A generic designer approached one of the machines and started to design a mech. Each of his actions on one machine was duplicated on the other machines. In essence, the designer was building three mechs at a time.

"With our ingenious QuickForge system, a mech designer is able to mirror their actions over as much machines as we choose. Each of our mech designers will produce three copies out of a single design, which provides their pilots enough identical mechs to reach the finals."

The projection of the QuickForge systems disappeared. A tournament bracket appeared into place. From twenty-four to twelve, from twelve to six, from six to three.

"Through a single elimination tournament, our twenty-four contestants will be whittled down to three. Their assigned pilots will be piloting a fresh identical match for every duel in order to keep things equal. Those who win their duels have more chances to display their mechs, and thus gain more opportunities to attract the attention of the masters. Naturally, the final three will also win a special prize."

In practice, the masters always apprenticed the mech designers who made it to the final three. They possessed enough skill, maturity and luck to make good seeds.

The others also stood a chance. It wasn't uncommon for a master to apprentice someone who lost the first duel due to the qualities they showed in the previous rounds.

As for the special prize, it different from year to year, but it was always a pleasant surprise. The prizes generally ranged from goodies such as production licenses, lots of cols, or even some highly prized shares for one of the Carnegie Group's primary enterprises.

"Our contestants have ten hours to design their mechs. This is more than enough time for them to unleash their strengths. Those who have made it this far have already proven their skills among the riff raff. Now we shall see whether they have what it takes to reach the top."

Ves looked at the tournament bracket but failed to recognize his first opponent. The mech designer was a graduate from Leemar called Lachlan Kurbanov, and his paired pilot was a woman named Lisa Kwong. Due to his high ranking in the second round, his first opponent should be someone weaker on paper.

"Who am I kidding." Ves shook his head, well aware of the circumstances that allowed him to earn such a high ranking. "I only scraped by the previous round due to luck."

He did not underestimate his opponents. Lachlan and Lisa painstakingly fought their way to the final round, beating many highly skilled rivals in their way. Lachlan must be a great mech designer on the same level as Barakovski.

There were no tricks this time. Ves approached his assigned QuickForge systems and picked the middle one to work with. He looked around, only to see his view blocked by privacy screens. He could not spy on his opponents and adjust his design according to circumstance.

He shook away irrelevant thoughts and focused on the issue at hand. "Now what kind of mech shall I design?"

Should he reprise the Sword Dancer design and improve on it? The idea had merit. He already spent quite a few hours refining the design in the previous round, and though he made it in haste, the design had proven itself on the battlefield. His head already swirled with a few adjustments to address the Sword Dancer's shortcomings.

"Still, will I be able to impress the masters if I recycle an existing design?"

The System gave him a mission. His ultimate objective was to become an apprentice to a Master Mech Designer. He had already shown off the Sword Dancer. In order to provide the masters with a better idea of his work, he should create something more unique.

"The masters don't want to take on a lazy apprentice. I have to show some effort on my end if I wish to make myself attractive." Ves considered after a moment of thought.

A mech designer who always cut corners had limited potential compared to one that always worked hard to improve himself. Though he could not read the minds of the five masters watching from afar, he believed they wanted to pick someone with promise.

"Alright, then let's make a new mech."

First, Ves considered the performance of the Sword Dancer in the previous round. It turned out that Cadet Lovejoy could not show off its strengths due to the nature of its opponents. The last duel against the Pterodactyl showed that Ves had to come up with a means to diminish the advantage of range.

"Should I design an aerial mech or give my mech a better ranged weapon?"

He did not specialize in flight systems. Though he knew enough to implement the standard flight systems provided by the QuickForge's catalog, he could not make any meaningful improvements to them. Gauge's Pterodactyl already showed how extreme a proficient designer could push a flight system.

On the other hand, adding a ranged weapon did not conform to the requirements of a swordsman mech. Some people expressed very extreme opinions about how swordsmen mechs should never carry a firearm, not even a dinky backup pistol. In addition, it wasn't like he specialized in weapons tech either.

Ves was torn between the two. He considered what his pilot preferred.

"Adding a flight system will add to the bulk of the mech, but it will also give it more options. Cadet Lovejoy only needs a tool to close the gap. The flight system is not the most important part of the mech."

He decided to add a slim flight system to a medium mech frame. It would not increase the top speed of the mech nor turn it into an aerial acrobat. It should give his mech enough tools to respond to aerial threats even without a pistol.

Now that he determined the basic features of his mech, Ves filled in the gaps by letting his imagination free reign. He sunk into his mind and sought to match a fitting purpose to his mech in order to unleash its X-Factor.

Again, while his rivals already started to work on their designs, Ves still worked on generating a mental picture. The strange disparity caught the attention of the crowd. What in the galaxy was he doing?

Ves ignored such considerations and started to think back on the Sword Dancer's final moments. Rage, humiliation and helplessness. Cadet Lovejoy lacked a means to fight back against his opponent's scorn. His mind also flickered to the final fate of the pilot who ruined Gauge's mech.

"My next mech will be an Executioner. It is not a demon or an angel. It cuts anything in its way no matter how unreachable the target. Its sword is both its tool and its badge of office. It executes only mechs, not people. Its sword shall never cut what is not meant to be cut."

With a strong intent in mind, Ves opened his eyes and engaged the QuickForge system. He opened the extensive catalog and picked a slew of parts without caring too much about the details. He let his intent and intuition decide which parts to choose.

He started with a heavy, two-handed sword ideal for chopping off heads as well as other limbs. To accommodate the sword, he selected a firmer torso, strengthened arms and somewhat solid legs to provide a powerful platform.

To power his Executioner, he picked a high-performance power reactor and a medium-intensity engine model. A more powerful engine added a little bit too much weight, so Ves skipped the most robust models.

His choices so far meant that his mech enjoyed sufficient mobility despite having heavier limbs. While it lost much of the agility that defined the Sword Dancer, it made up for it in raw power.

As for the flight system, it should first and foremost avoid hindering Lovejoy's swordplay as best as possible. Due to his lack of proficiency in flight systems, Ves could only pick a default compact model from the catalog.

It consisted of two thick tubes with an unfolding wingspan on each. While it like a pair of deformed trees, it nonetheless provided a decent amount of thrust for the amount of space it took. The only major downside to this system was that it wasted a lot of energy.

"Since my mech isn't using any energy weapons, I can spare the energy expenditure." Ves considered and went ahead with his choice.

After confirming his selection of components, he started putting it all together. He started with integrating the flight system to the back of the torso. Fortunately, the torso model he chose possessed a standardized attachment system that allowed for easier attachment of flight systems.

While he could complete the merging of the two components fairly quickly, Ves was not content with the basic layout. He modified the attachment point by strengthening the connection and adding a couple more redundant power lines to the flight system. He did not wish to encounter the same situation the Pterodactyl suffered when it failed to find any means to transfer power to its flight systems.

After spending two hours on integrating the flight systems properly, Ves turned to the rest. Installing the power reactor and engines provided no problems. He took a little more care with the limbs due to his mech's reliance on momentum and mechanical power to deliver damage. He specifically selected thicker limbs in order to accomodate a more powerful artificial muscle layout.

Ves spent an extravagant amount of time on making sure the internals were sound. That left him with three more hours. He painstakingly spent an entire hour on optimizing his Executioner's armor scheme. He made it more robust and added in a lot of harder edges. It made his mech look more menacing.

He filled the rest of his time with producing compressed armor. While he wished he had access to better methods and more sophisticated formulas, beggars couldn't be choosers.

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A sharp and menacing mech gained shape. The Executioner and its two copies emanated subtles halo promising the harvesting of lives. As the person standing closest to his newly designed mechs, he even had the impression that the Executioners amplified each other's presences. Due to this mutual enhancement, Ves gained a new cognition to what he thought was the X-Factor.

"Is this the true expression of the X-Factor?" Ves wondered silently. He did not dare utter his words loudly. He suspected he inadvertently lifted up a veil to one of the secrets of the X-Factor. "If I haven't been watching out for it, I would have brushed this feeling off as being overwhelmed by emotions."

The uncertainty still gnawed at him. Without having any opportunity to open the System and read its evaluation, he had no way of determining how far he had progressed. Ves had grown used to the System's reliable and precise feedback.

"What will happen if I fabricate an entire squad of identical mechs? How strong will their united presence become?"

Such a unit brought with them an unprecedented amount of unity. Ves had no idea how banding together affected the minds of the pilots, but he suspected that their level of cooperation reached new heights.

He had to experiment with this later. Right now, Ves had a couple of mechs to deliver. With just a few minutes before the generous ten hour time limit expired, he made a final check before letting the mechs go. His role in the third round was over. Now he passed the baton to his pilot.

After finishing his mechs, he entered the much emptier waiting room where he sought a familiar face. Patricia stood at the side, listening to the commentary gushing about the new mechs.

"How's your design? Are you confident?"

Her eye swiveled at him as if he was asking if the galaxy was large. "Out of fifty-thousand mech designers, only twenty-four of us had made it to the final round. Do you think any of us has any reason to lack any confidence?"

"You make a good point." Ves said belatedly. "I'm surprised to see you in the finals. I've gone to the same school as you and I've never seen you study something that could propel your skills to this level."

"I could say the same for you. There's hardly anything in your background that suggests you are capable of matching the graduates from the Leemar Institute of Technology. This place is one of the holy grails of mech design in this Star Sector. It truly baffles everyone who witnesses your rise."

The two reached an unspoken agreement not to pry more into the reasons of their sudden improvements. Ves had no doubt Patricia hid some secrets. Perhaps none so drastic as a System, but still something that could not be spoken aloud.

"Ah, I see the plebs have gathered together to talk about how much they enjoy rolling in the mud." An incisive voice cut from the side.

Ves recognized the approaching man. "How nice of you to meet us Mister Kurbanov. I was just about to tell my friend how your mech will collapse at the first blow."

"A fine boast. A pity you can never back it up." Lachlan huffed contemptuously at him. "I don't know why the LIT allows third-rate rabble like you to participate in the competition. Designers like you still treat lastgen mechs as modern designs!"

"It is a mistake to consider us backward just because we don't have as much access to resources as the Friday Coalition. You might find we are not any worse in terms of spirit and drive."

Before Lachlan spat out a retort, Barakovski approached him from behind and put a hand on his shoulder. "There's no need to disgrace yourself, Lachlan. Let your mech prove your strength."

"You're right as always, dear Cynthia." Lachlan huffed and turned around. "My Brandmark will easily pound his toy into scrap."

Barakovski shrugged apologetically at Ves before guiding Lachlan to the other side of the waiting room. While Ves did not need any rescuing, he appreciated her concern.

"Is there anything going on between you and Barakovski?"

"Nah, nothing at all. We only grouped up together in the third round of the qualifiers."

"I see."

Once the commentators stopped slobbering over the mechs, the duels commenced. Twelve simultaneous one-on-one duels began in the prepared arenas.

The match between his Executioner and Lachlan's Brandmark took place in a randomized marsh environment. Shallow pools of stale water surrounded modestly-sized mudhills.

Mechs that had to traverse over this complex terrain had to worry about unstable footing. Faster mechs were at a disadvantage due to the limits placed on their top speed.

In contrast, the abundance of water gave heat-dependent mechs an ideal environment. Water was a great conductor of heat. Mechs that relied on energy intensive weapons such as laser cannons could fire off their weapons in rapid succession without worrying about melting off their barrels.

It just so happened that Lachlan's mech utilized a lot of lasers. Perhaps aware of Cadet Lovejoy's penchant for swords, Lachlan designed a mech based around ranged superiority. His efforts resulted in a fairly robust medium mech adorned with lots of firepower.

"That's quite a top-heavy cannoneer." Ves commented as he rubbed his eyes. He did not expect such a model to come from Lachlan's hands. "Replacing the arms with cannons is a very risky choice."

Patricia hummed with interest as she analyzed the design. "His mech obviously isn't meant to resist an opponent with a melee weapon. It makes sense to save weight and optimize systems in favor of a fully dedicated ranged build. That's how frontline models are designed. I can tell Lachlan is preparing for a career in the Mech Corps."

Lachlan's cannoneer mech had done away with humanoid arms. Instead, he replaced them with two large and heavy laser cannons. The straight and ominous-looking barrels were able to rotate and aim at a wide range of angles.

If that wasn't enough, his Brandmark also sported two smaller laser barrels on its shoulders. Their slim and lightweight design allows them to track moving targets with greater ease than the large and sluggish cannons.

As the Brandmark sported four incredibly hungry laser weapons, the machine also carried a couple of attachments meant to mitigate their scary energy consumption. The mech wore a strange backpack module that Lachlan must have built from scratch.

Ves guessed that it contained a combination of energy cells and heat sinks in order to extend the Brandmark's endurance. The wet, marshy environment only provided the cannoneer with another advantage. The pilot, Lisa Kwong, already started to grin as she familiarized herself with the mech and the abundant water in the vicinity.

As for Lovejoy, he spent some time on his own with his new mech. Ves designed the Executioner as an explicitly different machine from his Sword Dancer. Lovejoy had to memorize his new mech's characteristics and formulate a new game plan that took advantage of its strengths.

"Now this is more like it. I've always found the Sword Dancer to be too dainty for my tastes." Lovejoy remarked as he practiced a couple of mighty heaves with the Executioner's hefty sword. "It's a bit on the slow side, but I can manage."

What the Executioner lost in agility, it more than made up for it with power. A lesser pilot might consider the extra weight to be baggage. A proper swordsman had ways to take advantage of these properties.

After finishing his brief practice, Lovejoy gained enough confidence to set out. His Executioner slowly trudged through the muddy terrain. The feet of his mech sunk into the dirty soil like a fatty jumping into a swimming pool. The mud splashed everywhere and the metal dug in deep. Every time the mech raised its foot, a sucking sound emerged as if the mud did not wish to part with a lover.

"This is disgusting." Lovejoy spat as his mech awkwardly navigated the swampy terrain. "Hopefully I don't have to crawl everywhere in order to find my opponent."

Anyone who reached the top 24 was a force to be reckoned with. He briefly studied the bracket along with the other pilots and knew he faced Lisa Kwong right now. As a top pilot, Cadet Kwong made her name as a marksman. Whether in or out of the cockpit, her ability to shoot on target impressed everyone at the academy. She even went on to represent the school in various competitions.

"I'm not going to be able to dodge my way out of this match if I still piloted the Sword Dancer. This Executioner's extra armor is a lot more useful against an expert marksman like Kwong."

His strategy was simple. Once he spotted Kwong's mech, he'd simply redirect as much power to his flight systems as possible and close the range without bothering with any fanciful dodging patterns. He had to finish this battle as fast as possible in order to prevent Kwong from exploiting her long-range skills.

His sensors pinged at discovering a contact. Kwong's mech had found a deep pool which allowed her cannoneer to submerge up to its knees. The generous contact with the surrounding water aided the mech in transferring any built-up heat.

The Brandmark detected the Executioner a little bit earlier. As a mech built for medium and long-ranged combat, its sensors and targeting systems received a lot of attention. Lachlan personally adjusted the targeting system's programming in order to take full advantage of all of its hardware improvements.

The first shots landed on the Executioner with the speed of light. Both of the laser cannons zeroed in on the Executioner with hardly any need for calibration or test firing. The twin impacts struck the medium mech with a gigantic flash of heat and light. Its chest already bore the melted scars from the impact. If the armor hadn't been compressed, the blasts would have certainly turned the armor plates into slag.

The second salvo came merely two seconds later. Such a rate of fire was highly dangerous, but Kwong had no qualms in pushing a mech to its limits, especially if it was only meant to last a single match.

Thus, for various reasons, both pilots sought a quick end to the match. Cadet Lovejoy obliged by making his mech lift off from the forbidding swamp and rocket straight towards the Brandmark.

"You're dead meat Lovejoy!" Kwong's voice boomed from her speakers as her mech landed another accurate salvo. "This is my ideal environment! Just admit that you've lost!"

"I'll chop up your mech before you empty your energy cells!"

The Executioner's flight system worked as hard as its limited size could sustain. The mech was rather heavy, and it could only do so much. Lovejoy found he had to endure a lot more hits than he first imagined.

Even the Brandmark's smaller shoulder mounted lasers fired at him in unison. The simulated temperature in Lovejoy's pod started to heat up.

In the meantime, the Brandmark turned its legs around a hundred-and-eighty degrees and ran backwards, all the while continuing to lay down accurate fire. Cannoneers often sported such modifications, though only at later generations. Lachlan must have spent a lot of time on it in order to make sure his mech remained accurate.

Two pairs of laser beams intermittently impacted his mech with a disturbing amount of accuracy. No matter how Lovejoy juked his mech, the best he could accomplish was to spread out the impact areas so they wouldn't burn through a concentrated area. It worked for now, but his frontal armor still had limits, compressed or not.

The Executioner crossed its arms and tried to shield its vulnerable chest from further damage. As the armor on the arms were thinner, it only lasted a dozen seconds before Lovejoy had to give that up. He still needed the arms to wield the sword.

"There's too much distance. I can't last long enough to get close." Lovejoy determined with a struggling expression. "Too many lasers. Too much distance. Kwong's not even letting up."

The water around the fleeing Brandmark started to boil as the cannoneer tried to shunt as much heat as possible. The surface of the Brandmark was hot enough to fry an egg, but somehow the overheating mech never grew hot to the point its systems started failing. It could barely handle the amount of heat it currently generated, but that was more than enough to shoot down the Executioner.

Frustration welled up in Lovejoy's heart. "Is my path to the finals going to end this quickly?"

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A mech dedicated to destroying its opponents at range often accomplished their kills if they were willing to pay the price. Lisa Kwong flipped off all the safeties in order to let the Brandmark fire off as much lasers as possible. Beams of varying intensity flew through the air in rapid succession.

As an engine of destruction, the Brandmark revealed no flaws. Its firepower approached the magnitude of a heavy mech, and its heat dispersal was excellent even without the surrounding water. Such a well-built mech had no possibility of breaking down as long as Kwong did not push her mech any further.

Cadet Lovejoy tried to figure out a solution. His Executioner could not weather this laser storm for long. "I'm still only halfway but my mech is already approaching the limit! There's nothing in sight that I can use as cover!"

The marshy terrain was devoid of any distinguishing features to block the lasers. There were no hills, no trees and hardly any bushes. Considering the power behind the laser cannons, only the sturdiest trees had a chance of dispersing the larger beams.

Lacking any other means, Lovejoy could only resort to sacrificing his parts of his mech. He first boosted the power of his flight system before raising the legs of his mech. The lasers burned right through the soles of his mech in short order. Even as the successive beams cooked the legs into slag, it succeeded in shielding the critical parts of the mech.

Those who paid attention to this battle showed a lot of appreciation for this drastic move. To keep a mech in flight in this posture required a lot of control in order to maintain this delicate balance. If the Executioner got hit by any kinetic projectile, it would immediately lose its balance and fall.

Fortunately for Lovejoy, the Brandmark sported a dedicated laser loadout. While its laser beams looked intimidating, it essentially consisted of pure electromagnetic radiation. It was like using a flashlight to open a door. The door might melt if the beam was concentrated enough, but it required a stupendous amount of power to open the door through pure kinetic force.

Lovejoy took advantage of this basic fact by recklessly flying forward in a highly unstable posture. Even as the feet fell apart, the Executioner still possessed a substantial amount of leg armor.

"It sure is serendipitous for me to face a laser mech with a flight-capable machine. I'd be stuck in a dead end if I only had a pistol."

The uncertainty of what a mech pilot might encounter in his next sortie often broke their minds. Many potentates ultimately washed out of the mech pilot academies due to a lack of adaptability. A qualified pilot was ready for combat anywhere and anytime against any opponent imaginable. Even against a ludicrous mech such as the Pterodactyl, Lovejoy still insisted up to the very end.

Raising the legs mid-flight was an inspired solution that came at a cost. With the slow disintegration of the legs, Lovejoy had to push his piloting skills to the limit in order to maintain his balance. A flying mech could not easily maintain its balance without the ballast provided by the legs. If handled badly, the Executioner might end up spinning around like a top.

"This is ridiculous!" Kwong exclaimed as she kept pumping out laser after laser. "Why won't you fall already?!"

"Blame your designer for focusing too much on lasers!"

The gap closed within moments. At the very last second, Lovejoy spun around his mech and stretched out its sword with both hands.

The Brandmark attempted to dodge to the side, but Lovejoy had already watched out for that adjusted his sword grip. The broad and deadly tip sunk right through the right side of the Brandmark's torso. Its well-treated armor buckled instantly against the momentum of a flying mech going forth at full speed.

Like a melted knife through butter, the sword impaled the Brandmark with ease and severed many essential components. The rest of the Executioner frame collided against the Brandmark, causing both mechs to sustain heavy impact damage. Nevertheless, a lot of the force had been channeled into the sword, causing its tip to emerge from the back of the Brandmark.

"..CUT!" Lovejoy yelled as his damaged mech tried to leverage as much force as possible while still in midair.

The Executioner's flight system had performed miracles so far by keeping the mech aloft. When Lovejoy cut off all of its power, the remnants of the mech started to fall while maintaining a tight grip on its sword.

The edge of the sword ruthlessly sliced down the helpless Brandmark like a butcher's knife. The massive sword spliced open its lower torso, cutting straight through the cockpit and engines.

The crowd cheered at the brief but intense clash. The commentators briefly showered Lovejoy with praise for his expert piloting before turning back to the other duels.

Ves let out a deep breath. He won his first duel. Though the terrain heavily favored his opponent's mech, Lovejoy somehow managed to overturn the odds. If not for his flight system and if not for the Brandmark's complete reliance on lasers, this match might have ended differently.

"This.. this isn't possible! There's so much water! How could my Brandmark fail to shoot down that primitive mech?!"

And so fell another darling from Leemar. Lachlan Kurbanov's journey to the top had ended abruptly. The two other copies of the Brandmark were destined to be recycled.

His loss of composure disgraced his school. Many spectators who stood close to the waiting room pointed out his delirious descent into disbelief. Those who also studied at Leemar simply shook their heads. Though they favored the alumni from their school, it was his fault for being too weak.

"Sometimes, I wonder whether the single duel format is flawed." Ves remarked to Patricia as he turned away from Lachlan's display. "It's a complete roll of the dice whether the terrain favors your mech, or whether it is facing its natural counter."

Patricia smiled as she kept her eyes glued to her heavy mech. Many of the duels were still starting out.

The instance where Lovejoy and Kwong tried to force a quick resolution did not happen elsewhere. The pilots played conservatively whenever they could get away with it. They only started to take risks when their opponents backed them into a corner.

"The duels are never meant to be fair. They are meant to be decisive." Patricia finally pointed out. "The pilot only has to worry about how to use the tools at hand. Tools which you have generously provided them. After all, what are we here for if not designing mechs?"

A mech designer did not fight the enemy on the battlefield. Instead, they worked behind the scenes. They were not omniscient and could not predict the future. All they could do is gather as much information as possible and prepare their designs according to the parameters set by their clients.

The first set of duels ended after a few moments of time. Most of the mechs faced their equals in terms of design and piloting skill. Every pilot wanted to attain glory, so even the losers fought as if their lives were on the line.

Only twelve designs remained. Surprisingly, Patricia's heavy mech also eked out a victory. Together with Ves, they were all that was left of the so-called walkers. Like Barakovski, the rest of the survivors came from privileged backgrounds.

"This is interesting! Both of our exotic guests are from the Bright Republic!" The female commentator noted with bright eyes. "They even shared the same classes in the same school! Might there be something special brewing between the two? Is that the secret to their success?"

Both Ves and Patricia turned away in embarrassment. They were just acquaintances. Before encountering her at Leemar, he could not even claim to be her friend.

After that brief moment of levity, the second duels commenced. According to the bracket, Ves had to face a familiar name. One he did not wish to face at all due to their shared experiences.

"Looks like fate wants to determine who is better." Barakovski said with a grin. "I'm looking forward to our duel."

"Your Cineron might be quick, but my Executioner is not a slowpoke."

"We'll see."

Unlike some of the other designers, Barakovski stuck to a single design whenever she could get away with it. She highly favored light mechs and always tried to design a skirmisher or a harasser. With ten hours of time, she refined her final iteration to an insane degree. Ves had a lot of respect for Barakovski, so even he refused to guess whether his mech could prevail.

When the Cineron emerged onto the generic urban battlefield, it instantly started to gallop away. The light mech sported a decent amount of speed but carried a luxurious weapon loadout. First of all, its arms sported a pair of wrist-mounted laser cannons, scaled to light mechs. Instead of carrying shoulder mounts, the Cineron instead wielded a pair of heated knives.

"Why did you forgo the shoulder mounts?"

Barakovski nonchalantly shrugged. "My mech makes for a great ambusher with a pair of knives. Why would I ruin my mech's balance with a pair of shoulder mounts? I might as well hang some rocks on its frame."

Her words suggested that the Cineron was capable of moving faster. His Executioner might be capable of flight, but the flight system could not propel the swordsman mech as fast as a dedicated sprinter mech.

The Executioner carefully navigated the deserted downtown streets. Abandoned air cars and fallen structures made it difficult for Lovejoy to find his opponent quickly. Luckily, despite the clutter, the terrain heavily favored mechs like the Executioner. With an abundant amount of cover, he could hop from pile to pile if he had to face the Brandmark again. He'd never have to sacrifice parts of his mech again.

As both mechs weren't hiding, they eventually found each other after a few minutes of combing the area. After realizing that the Executioner only relied on its sword, the Cineron engaged aggressively, firing its laser cannons from a medium range.

"I'm not a sitting duck!" Lovejoy yelled as he pumped full power into his mech's flight system.

The Cineron was caught off-guard, but quickly adjusted by sprinting away. After building up its speed, the mech easily maintained its distance to the furiously pursuing Executioner. The pilot deftly navigated past the obstacles in its way, all the while maintaining its harassing fire.

Lovejoy gritted his teeth at being bombarded with lasers again. "Is that all? Compared to what I endured in my previous duel, your shots are barely scraping my paint!"

A light mech had no way of matching the firepower of a medium mech. While the wrist mounts maintained a steady rate of fire, its accuracy was not as good. Barakovski made too many compromises when she went for wrist-mounted lasers. They excelled at carving up a mech over time.

The Executioner did not intend to become the Cineron's punching bag. The mech strained its flight system past its conservative settings. The heavier mech started to catch up to the light mech.

Still, unlike the Brandmark, the Cineron had a surprise in store. A module opened up from its back and released a fine mist of particles in the air.

Ves rose up from his seat. "Particle ejector!"

His iconic Seraphim variant utilized this specific form of active ECM, so he was no stranger to its effects. The Executioner lost its sight of the Cineron. After a few seconds of flight, in exited the cloud of sensor-blocking cloud.

"Where are you?" Lovejoy wondered as he shut down his flight system before it melted down. As his mech started to cool down from the exertion, he kept a close eye on his sensor readings and his surroundings.

After finding no trace of the Cineron, he concluded the mech still hid inside the cloud. The Cineron purely used the particle cloud as an escape mechanism.

"If you think blinding me will help, then think again."

His Executioner resolutely entered the cloud. The particles had already spread out to the entire street, which meant that it was difficult to bump into the Cineron. Nevertheless, Lovejoy closed his eyes and tried to sense the whereabouts of his opponent with his other sensors.

After a few seconds went by, the swordsman mech suddenly raised its sword and struck to the left. The blade struck nothing but empty air.

In the meantime, a pair of laser beams just skimmed off its head. The Cineron deliberately aimed at the sensors.

This game of cat and mouse continued for over two minutes. The Cineron was equally as blind as the Executioner, so it was only able to fire at its target accurately if it came close. This gave Lovejoy a chance to turn the tables. A few times, his sword even scratched the surface of the light mech's paperthin armor.

"This cloud won't last forever!" Lovejoy remarked. He wanted to urge his opponent on. "I'm faster than you. The longer you lurk around, the more my flight system cools off. Can you afford to wait all day?"

The Cineron came from behind. Just as the Executioner swirled around to cut the mech in half, the Cineron's wrists sparked with lightning.

"Shit!"

A massive bolt of lightning landed on the Executioner, causing it to halt in its steps. The Cineron also paid a price for the attack, but it recovered a lot quicker. The Cineron expertly retrieved its pair of heated knives and dove towards the paralyzed mech, ready to gut it like a pig.

Seeing his doom approaching, Lovejoy frantically tried to budge his mech. "MOVE ALREADY! CUT!"

Just as the first knife slipped inside the chest, the Executioner burst into life. While the mech lost power to a lot of its systems, they were quite robust. Ves always put a lot of importance in his mech's integrity. His diligence paid off as the Executioner regained its strength just as the Cineron was about to deliver its fatal blows.

"CUT!"

The sword swung once.

Barakovski closed her eyes.

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"Congratulations for your victory, Ves. You deserve it." Barakovski finally said as she silently regained her composure. "What a resilient mech. Your Executioner really awes the crowd."

Everyone who attended the duel applauded his work. The Executioner shrugged off the effects of the lightning bolt in record time. It was doubtful whether mechs designed by others could do the same. Only the most remarkable designers like Carter Gauge could reach this level.

While Ves lacked the overflowing talent of someone of Gauge's caliber, he finally proved his own worth. Nobody badmouthed him anymore in his presence. The other designers, all of whom enjoyed billions of cols worth of investment, regarded him as if he was a hidden tiger.

Since Barakovski lost, a pair of attendants guided her off the stage. She'd return to the podium at the end, but for now the spotlight only shone on the winners. After waving her goodbye, he walked over to Patricia and looked down on the arena where her mech put up a fierce fight.

When he looked at Patricia's dauntless heavy mech launching missile after missile, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the enemy hybrid knight. Its fragile kinetic shoulder mounts had already been obliterated under a rain of high explosive missiles. Right now, it barely hung on to its tattered shield as salvo after salvo of kinetic missiles struck its surface.

"That's a very interesting direction you've chosen. Aren't you afraid your mech becomes harmless once it expends all of its missiles?"

"Just as your design commits to a sword, I'm confident I my mech can sweep away any opponent with its missiles alone. At a certain point you just have to put your trust in your ability."

Ves nodded at her words. A mech designed solely around a single weapon system did not have to make unpalatable compromises. For example, the hybrid knight that was currently taking a pounding tried to combine ranged and melee capabilities in a single package. It wasted a lot of capacity that could have been used to strengthen its armor or its speed.

Flexibility had its uses, but strength overcame all.

Predictably, the hybrid knight succumbed once its shield fell apart. Its armor lasted quite a bit, but Patricia's heavy mech still carried plenty of reserves. It ultimately finished off the knight with about twenty percent left.

Ves had to admit that Patricia chose a bold design. Her mech only used a single strategy: vomit out as much missiles as possible before the enemy closed in. Most of the other mechs designed by the finalists completely disregarded artillery mechs due to their scarcity in one-on-one duels.

A regular artillery mech might pose little threat in a duel environment, but one designed by Patricia was different. She obviously tweaked the missile payloads, causing the high explosive missiles to be twice as powerful and the kinetic missiles delivering three times the force.

Patricia only paid for it by reducing their maximum range, which was not that big of a deal in the small arena. The missiles also lost much of their maneuverability and tracking capabilities. The pilot had to target his missiles carefully in order to ensure they'd hit the target. Faster mechs stood a better chance of prevailing against the missile barrage.

After the end of the second duels, only six designers remained. Ves looked at those who survived thus far. Besides Patricia, he recognized none of the other four, but they all represented the best of what the Friday Coalition had to offer.

It was no coincidence that the top three graduates from the Leemar Institute of Technology had made it this far. They were all eminent geniuses who could almost be placed on par with some of the lower-class graduates from an average first-rate institution. Any casual graduate from a first-rate institution could raise a storm in the industry of a second-rate state, so that was high praise.

"There's still a distance between me and Edwin McKinney." Ves sighed ruefully as he remembered how utterly dominant the genius displayed his skill.

Edwin had truly leaped the dragon gate and shrugged off the shackles of his humble origin, if it was ever humble in the first place.

Before the start of the third and final duel, Professor Marshall took to the stage once more. Her eyes swept the gazes of each of the surviving designers with pride. "The six of you can be proud. No matter who wins or loses, you have all reached the pinnacle of mech design at your age group."

She raised a hand, causing a projection to emerge. "Nevertheless, our Open Competition only allows for three finalists. I have spoken with the masters and they have all affirmed that the winners will be guaranteed an offer of apprenticeship."

The news struck the crowd like a bombshell. Such a statement meant that all of the six possessed enough qualifications to study under a renowned master.

"Outside of that, you must look at your luck."

This meant that the losers of this final round might not be chosen, even if they possessed the right qualifications. No one knew why the masters made this decision. Perhaps they simply didn't want to pick up a designer who lost to someone else's apprentice.

"Same as last time, the final three winners will receive a special prize. Behold our latest innovation!"

The projection finally resolved into a model of a small inter-system spaceship. A couple of specs overlaid the most important parts of the hundred-meter long vessel. The impressive specs quickly roused the interests of those in the shipcraft industry.

"Our institute has developed a new spaceship ideal for personal travel. The Arkon Mark I is the most advanced ship in the series. She features the latest advancements in FTL precision, so she is able to jump across vast stretches of space. Despite her compact size, her cargo bay can hold up to four standard-sized containers or two packaged mechs."

In practice, this meant that the ship could only keep one mech on standby. The Arkon had evidently been designed around this feature. Many smaller ships and yachts lacked the space to keep a mech on standby.

Ves knew a little about ships. A ship like the Arkon incorporated enough exotics to build a dozen mechs. The price of this ship could definitely bankrupt most billionaires back in the Bright Republic.

"Even if I don't have a use for this ship, I can sell her for a fortune."

Just imagining the rain of credits he could obtain turned his eyes red with hunger. Losing was not an option. He had to make it to the final three.

The Arkon Mark I possessed both speed, armor, range and comfort. The only downside was that her FTL and regular engines both ran on high-grade fuel. This fuel was extremely powerful, but also expensive. Governments kept a tight group on the supply of such fuels.

Those who wished to use the top-of-the-line model as a courier or a cargo transport shook their heads. Even in a wealthy state like the Friday Coalition, the operating costs was hard to bear, especially in a low-margin business like interstellar cargo transport.

Even Ves had to bleed a lot of credits if he wanted to take the ship out for a spin. Considering his future trajectory, obtaining a fast and well-armored ship was no misdemeanor, especially if he could get it for free.

After finishing her speech, Professor Marshall receded and made way for the final battles.

According to the bracket, Ves faced an elite who originated from another institution under the Carnegie Group. Felix Tremor clawed his way through numerous rivals, including many geniuses from Leemar.

His mech, the Handshake, excelled in sniping, but could put up a mean fight in close range as well. His pilot, Xandra Ribeiro, was an all-rounder who could play his mechs to its strengths.

Lovejoy waited patiently in the simulated cockpit of his now-familiar Executioner. After undergoing two brief but intense struggles, he had developed an intimacy with this model. Even after wrecking two identical mechs, the third still welcomed his presence like a warhorse reuniting with its knight.

While the rewards for mech pilots were not as generous as those received by mech designers, they still received a fair amount of wealth and prestige. If Lovejoy won the next battle, he could leave his mark in history and be celebrated for many years on end. His employment prospects would definitely soar to an unimaginable height.

After a moment of adjustment, the final battlefield unfolded into a lifeless moon environment. The low gravity caused his mech to bounce up with each step. Fortunately, it also reduced the load to the flight system, causing the mech to fly around effortlessly.

Still, Lovejoy did not dare divert too much power. In this near-vacuum environment, mechs suffered a reduction in their ability to disperse heat.

Overall, the terrain highly favored the Executioner. If his opponent's mech turned out to be a laser rifleman, he'd have a really hard time.

"Where is he?" Lovejoy wondered as he scoured the silent landscape. "This guy sure is patient."

He scoured half the battlefield, only to come up with nothing. Just as he considered changing his search pattern, his instincts screamed at him. He flared up his flight system, but his response came too late.

A high-powered kinetic projectile tore into the leg of the Executioner. Large chunks of armor sprayed into the distance as the slug hammered the affected area. The leg instantly lost all functionality.

"Xandra!" Lovejoy yelled as he honed in on her position. Disregarding the damage, he urged his mech onwards.

"Sorry Reddy, but I'll be taking the finals!" The woman responded as she fired another slug from the Handshake's railgun. Her weapon generated a fair amount of heat, but not as much as a laser.

The second slug penetrated glanced off Executioner as it kept dodging sideways. A huge furrow emerged from its side armor, exposing the internals to vacuum.

The Handshake calmly continued to fire off slugs. Its heavy railgun packed a very huge punch, but it required quite a bit of time to charge up the capacitors. By the time the Executioner came close, Xandra only managed to unleash half-a-dozen slugs.

All of the slugs made their mark on the swordsman mech. Despite his best efforts, his dodging only succeeded in preventing a fatal hit. Two slugs impacted the chest, causing the Executioner's power reactor to sputter. If not for the generous amount of armor, the second slug could have killed the mech.

Once Lovejoy's mech closed the distance, Xandra decisively threw away the railgun and retrieved a spear. Her medium mech stood ready to receive his charge.

Their weapons clashed. The Handshake successfully fended off the Executioner's charge. Its prepared stance absorbed a fair portion of the force behind the collision.

As for the Executioner, the failed strike caused it to fly to the side. Lovejoy fought to stabilize his mech. The crippled leg and reduced gravity made it twice as hard for him to regain his mech's balance.

"Having reactor trouble?" Xandra taunted as she noticed the Executioner's fluctuating power output. "Your mech might shut down at any moment!"

The intermittent power output was a sign of further trouble. Lovejoy quickly read the damage report and knew his mech was on a time limit. The railgun practically ripped through half the Executioner's chest. Only its well-designed internals and abundant redundancies allowed the mech to maintain a modicum of functionality.

Even if his mech remained floating on borrowed time, Lovejoy didn't show it. "Even if my mech is half as good as yours, I can still tidy you up. Don't forget who tutored you in swordplay!"

"That happened ages ago! I've grown enormously since then!"

While Lovejoy only briefly branched out before fully immersing himself in swords, Xandra sought to master everything under the sun. She attained a comprehensive proficiency in every category imaginable to a further degree than anyone else in the academy. In truth, her spearplay was not much worse than Lovejoy's swordplay.

Yet this tiny gap might as well be as wide as a canyon. As Lovejoy corralled his unstable mech and decisively engaged his opponent, his heavy sword strikes pushed Xandra's mech backwards. He heavily relied on his flight system to push his mech forward and put some weight into his attacks.

If not for the sparking power reactor, he could have pushed the Xandra to her limits. Now though, Lovejoy had to keep his distance in case his mech lost control. Xandra even regained the initiative once she noticed his hesitation. She aggressively increased the tempo of the clashes.

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The duel between the Executioner and the Handshake stretched out over a hundred exchanges. While the swordsman mech put a lot of power in its attacks, the spear-wielding medium mech always blocked or deflected the predictable attacks with ease.

Sweat trickled from Lovejoy's brow as he desperately tried to figure out a path to victory. His damaged power reactor started to release more smoke as he kept stressing the Executioner. For a mech designed in just ten hours, its relative stability impressed the audience.

"The armor isn't the best I've seen, but its integrity is top-notch for a designer this young."

"Who is the designer? Larkinson? Doesn't ring a bell."

"Bright Republic? What kind of backwater could nurture not one, but two designers who made it to the finals?"

No one had a clue why both Ves and Patricia came out of the blue and beat countless geniuses nurtured by the most prestigious second-rate institutions. Was there something in the water over at the Bright Republic? Were they secretly cultivating a group of half-alien hybrids? No one knew, but the pair's performances already exceeded their capacity of thought.

Still, in the duel between Ves and Felix most of the crowd favored the latter. Not only did he enjoy a better background, his mech was a marvellous machine.

Even Ves wanted to dig into Felix's head in order to find out how he made the Handshake specialize in both railguns and spears. Hybrid mechs usually favored one weapon or the other. Though it was subtle, Ves recognized that the Handshake could break several records with both its marksmanship and spearplay.

"None of the final six are weak." Ves concluded with a smile.

If his mech lost to Felix's work, then he had nothing to complain. The only downside was that he could not afford to fall short when he almost reached the finish line.

Too much was at stake. He already offended plenty of personages. Just thinking about how Gauge's pilot mysteriously ended up committing suicide was enough to make Ves sleep uneasily. Only by winning this final duel and apprenticing himself to a master could he avoid the calamities he continually provoked.

Thus, he kept rooting for Lovejoy even as the audience peeled off to watch the other duels. The match seemed to lost all suspense.

As the designer, Ves knew how much the Executioner could take. The swordsman mech was tougher than it looked. As long as his pilot refused to give up, he still had a shot of winning.

The Executioner slipped up when its power output stuttered for a fraction of a second. Though Lovejoy recovered quickly, Xandra still managed to slip in a spear thrust. The tip of the spear bore a hole through an arm, causing it to be unable to bear the weight of the sword.

Lovejoy's mech already accumulated a fair degree of scratches, but this attack went beyond that. With each crippling strike, his mech's performance continued to decline.

Just moments later, the Handshake struck the Executioner's chest with the butt of the spear. The kinetic impact failed to cripple the damaged mech, but succeeded in stirring up the vulnerable internals.

The problem Lovejoy faced was that he couldn't get past Xandra's guard. The Handshake turned into a hedgehog in her hands. He had to worry about getting pricked everytime he attempted to strike.

"There's no point in playing it safe." Lovejoy determined after achieving another fruitless result. "I have to bet my mech against hers."

The designer of his mech focused on maximizing its power and resilience. Against the control-focused Handshake, the Executioner could not possibly outmaneuver the spear wielder.

An instructor once taught him an important lesson. "If you're losing the game, then flip the board."

He lost sight of his way. His mech was not meant to poke the Handshake like a skittish kitten. Such a tactic only resulted in a gradual defeat.

Once Lovejoy adjusted his perspective, his mood improved. He pushed away his fear of losing. He wanted to win instead of trying to avoid defeat.

"There's no choice but to go all-in. If her spear hits my mech, then so be it as long as my sword can dish out the hurt."

He slowly polished his aggression until it almost boiled over in his mind. His mech subtly amplified his thoughts. Both of their intents aligned.

Even Xandra sensed a change. The battered and beaten mech in front of her halted its declining tendency. She upped the pressure in order to interrupt whatever Lovejoy had in mind.

Instead of blocking the next spear thrust, the Executioner boldly let it scratch the sides of his lower torso. The engine buckled for a bit, but the mech quickly regained its energy. The wounded mech continued to push forward and struck down its sword with a devastating overhand chop.

Caught off-guard, Xandra acted decisively. Her mech let go of the spear and hopped away, causing the sword to miss its mark. Despite escaping the damage, she felt no better. Without a spear, her mech lost much of its reach and leverage.

As for Lovejoy, his mech's performance grew even more unsteady. Besides his power reactor, he also had to keep an eye on his engines. Thankfully, the spear did not penetrate deep enough to affect its core functionality.

With a slow grip, the Executioner pulled out the spear and held it above its shoulder.

Meanwhile, having lost its principal weapon, the Handshake retreated from the Executioner and raced towards its fallen railgun. Just as it reached the weapon, it slowed down in order to pick up the large but fragile weapon. Even if the Executioner wanted to stop the Handshake, it was too late.

That was what Xandra thought until the Executioner threw the shortened spear at her mech. The Handshake had just started to reach down and could not reorient itself in time.

The thrown spear knocked its shoulder but failed to penetrate through its armor. Though the Handshake avoided critical damage, the impact threw it off-balance and caused its hand to miss the railgun.

Lovejoy already pushed his mech forward after it hurled the spear. By the time his mech came close, the Handshake belatedly picked up its weapon and charged its capacitors.

Xandra knew she couldn't wait for a full charge. Just as the Executioner chopped towards her mech, she fired her railgun when it only charged up to thirty-nine percent.

The slug accurately hit the damaged mech's power reactor, causing the mech to experience an emergency shutdown.

Before his mech lost its power, Lovejoy channeled all of the mech's remaining energy in a single, heaven-shaking chop. Propelled by the mech's forward momentum, the weight of the sword finally crashed into the Handshake's head and sliced down its neck. The massive sword carved up lots of systems and interfered with the mech's control systems.

For a moment, both mechs stood still.

Xandra's mech recovered first. The damage it suffered was severe, but fell short of killing it. Unfortunately, the sword remained stuck in its upper torso.

Instead of trying to move away and aggravate its wounds, the Handshake raised its railgun. The mech pressed the barrel against its disabled opponent's torso and charged up the weapon.

One percent, two percent, three percent. Its charge slowly accumulated. If not for the last attack, the railgun only needed several seconds to accumulate a sufficient charge. Right now, Xandra tried to hurry up the energy transfer.

The Executioner came to life. The mech might have lost its power reactor, but Lovejoy found a way around the situation by tapping his mech's energy cells directly. This was an extremely destructive process, as the power reactor normally moderated the highly active energy.

Flooding the contents of the energy cells directly through the mech caused its internals to overheat in seconds. The mech could only last a couple of seconds as best before all of its energy channels melted down.

The Executioner only needed two seconds to twist the sword and push is deeper into the Handshake. Its sputtering flight system pushed the mech and its sword forward. At the last moment before the mech burned out, it suddenly leveraged its sword downwards, past the vulnerable power reactor.

The tip of the sword tore through the flimsy shell around the cockpit and halved the sophisticated module that allowed the mech to be remote controlled.

According to the rules set by Leemar, the destruction of the module represented the death of the pilot. There was no coming back.

The Executioner lost all of its power right after delivering the fatal blow.

Most of the audience had paid attention to the dramatic final moments of the duel. When it became clear that the Executioner lasted longer, they rose to their feet and applauded the mech's spectacular performance. Ves, Lovejoy and the Executioner had all outdone themselves in achieving such a hard-fought victory.

Ves closed his eyes and took in the applause. Though most of the people wanted to show their appreciation to Lovejoy's incredible performance, Ves equally contributed to his mech's eventual triumph. While most designers focused on improving their mech's armor or weapons, his own was both structurally sound and resilient to damage.

"Well, part of why I focus so much on the internals is because I don't have any choice. My foundation in alloy compression is still too shallow."

That might change in the future. After witnessing and challenging so many of his fellow peers, Ves gained a better understanding of how others developed their skills. He was already satisfied with this harvest alone.

After the other duels had come to an end, three finalists remained as victors of the Leemar Open Competition.

"Our first victor is Ves Larkinson, from the Bright Republic. His alma mater was the Rittersberg University of Technology. Together with Cadet Reddy Lovejoy, he has reached the summit of this event!"

"Our second winner is Patricia Schneider, who is also a guest from the Bright Republic. She even attended the same class as Mister Larkinson at Rittersberg! What a coincidence!"

The pair's common origins was pushed to the forefront again. They both climbed over countless geniuses to reach this point. Still, nobody could figure out a compelling reason. They just happened to beat every opponent in their way.

Many of their victories were hard-won, which helped the audience accept their success. If they performed too dazzling, then people might suggest they'd been kidnapped and replaced by someone like Carter Gauge.

Fortunately for the school, Marcel Westkerke from Leemar snatched the last available slot. After an arduous battle of attrition, Westkerke's mech finally outlasted its opponent. The LIT managed to preserve its honor.

Once the clamor died down, the spotlight shone on the masters sitting atop an elevated podium. The five masters heatedly discussed among themselves behind a sound-neutralizing barrier.

During this time, all of the other mech designers who reached the third round returned to the stage. He nodded at Barakovski, who looked like she still had a hard time accepting that Ves had reached this point.

Almost everyone among the twenty-four designers waited silently for the masters to make their decisions. They all hoped to leap to the heavens in a single step. Who wouldn't want to receive the personal guidance of someone who had climbed the summit of his profession?

Ves looked up at the eminent figures and wondered who might accept him as an apprentice or a disciple.

An apprentice mostly only learned under a master. Whether they only learned a few tricks or inherited their master's entire legacy, there would be a time when they spread their own wings.

A disciple on the other hand also had the right and obligation to represent their master. The relationship between the two was lifelong and they usually forged very deep ties, both business and personal.

Ves wasn't concerned with the differences between the two. As long as a master took him in, he could finally get rid of the System's confining mission and get back to building his business.

"The masters have finished their deliberations! They are ready to announce their decisions!"

The first master stood up. Master Duchamp's charming voice reached the entire arena complex.

"Mister Devin Loesch, please step forward."

The lucky bastard joyfully separated from the others as they burned a hole into his back. Devin's mech got trashed in the second duel. So why him?

If Duchamp noted the questioning expressions of the others, he didn't show it. Instead, his gaze fell down upon Devin with a gentle expression. "Devin Loesch, do you wish to be my apprentice?"

"YES!!" Devin yelled, as if he was afraid the master would doubt him if he did not do his utmost. "I gladly accept!"

"Then follow me." The master threw out as he turned around and walked up to the ceiling.

Devin eagerly followed. He engaged his antigrav clothes and quickly caught up to the floating master. They eventually reached a floating room.

With the first master done with his selection, the elderly Master Nguyen stepped forward. "Mister Marcel Westkerke, do you wish to acknowledge me as your teacher?"

Marcel calmly stepped forward and knelt on the floor. He kowtowed three times according to the ancient tradition.

"Good. From now on, the galaxy will acknowledge you as my nominal disciple."

The pair floated away towards another private room in order to settle all of the formalities.

The third master rose up from her graceful sitting posture. Every designer held their breaths, Ves included. There were divisions between masters. While all of them had reached unimaginable heights, some of them were more distinguished than others. Those who made it a hobby to rank the masters considered Master Katzenberg to be the most formidable designer present.

Her mature voice cut through everyone's thoughts like a chime. "Miss Alyssa Fill, are you willing to become my apprentice?"

This obscure young woman originated from a tiny fourth-rate state, but graduated from another institution in the Coalition. Despite her mixed origins, she amply proved her skill even if her mech hadn't lasted very long in the final round. Much of her success could be attributed to snatching the top mech pilot in the first round.

Ves applauded Fill's success, though not everyone was glad to see her ascend. The designers from Leemar appeared especially resentful.

As anyone could imagine, the offer caught her out of the blue. She enthusiastically accepting this amazing offer. She flew to Master Katzenberg's side as if she reunited with her long lost mother.

Only two masters remained. Coincidentally, both Ves and Patricia had not been selected yet. Unless Leemar went back on their word, their turns came next.

Between Master Olson and Master Null, Ves thought it was a given that he'd be handed off to the latter. Someone as noble and graceful as Patricia was a great fit for the sophisticated Master Olson.

Reality proved otherwise. When Master Olson stepped forward, her young but stern gaze focused solely on Ves.

"Mister Ves Larkinson, do you wish to become my apprentice?"

Everyone was speechless. No one could have predicted that someone from an average background could catch the eye of someone as lofty as Master Olson. She was notoriously elitist and considered everyone with a net worth of less than a billion cols to be a cockroach.

Ves even wanted to access his bank account in order to see if some anonymous grandpa deposited a fortune in his bank account.

When he realized he held up the ceremony, he quickly walked forward and gave his response. "I accept!"

Master Olson silently maintained her gaze at him, which made him feel as if he was an ant. She wordlessly turned around and floated towards a room.

Before Ves wondered how he could get up there, a silent platform arrived before his feet. After stepping onto its surface, the hovering surface swiftly carried him in the air.

Ves barely heard Master Null accepting Patricia his nominal disciple. He still wondered why Master Olson took a fancy for him. Were the rumors wrong?

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When Ves stepped into the floating room, he encountered a plain white room. Far from the luxuries he imagined in his mind, the room only contained two comfortable chairs facing its each other. The only other thing that broke up the room's monotony was a floating piece of ore.

The mineral must be something interesting to be worthy of display. Ves tried to dig through his head of any exotics that matched the ore's appearance. After a couple of seconds of fruitless searching, he gave up guessing and followed his new master to the chairs.

"Please take a seat." Master Olson gestured as she took the seat closest to the floating chunk of ore. Her admiring gaze suggested that she'd sell out her parents in an instant in order to secure it. Sadly for Ves, she felt no need to explain the origins of the ore.

After a minute of silence, Olson finally redirected her attention. With an emotionless expression, her eyes ruthlessly scanned his body and his average clothes. Compared to the finely detailed layered dress that Olson wore, he might as well look like a pauper.

"Tell me in your words why I have decided to take you on as my apprentice."

The master obviously gave him a test. Ves already expected something like this, so he simply answered as honestly as possible without pause.

"I have a solid foundation and while my skills aren't impressive, my highly developed mechanics is most compatible to your specialties. In contrast, most of the other designers chose to specialize in more exciting fields first, which won't make them good seeds for a specialization into engine design."

Olson idly tapped her chin with the tip of her finger. "You are partially correct. While your foundation is comparable to a top alumni from Leemar, your mathematics is woefully underdeveloped. No, underdeveloped is putting it lightly. It is abysmal."

The master slammed her palm onto her seatrest, expressing her dissatisfaction quite firmly to Ves. "Math is the true foundation of our profession! Do not think you can get away with outsourcing all of your computing to automated processors! While they may be able to simulate any model, it is you who will have to construct the models in the first place!"

While Ves could reply that he could hire a mathematician to do all the heavy lifting, he found it prudent to remain silent. In truth, he prioritized the development of skills that provided a more immediate return on investment.

"I will provide you a list of recommended textbooks that you can browse in the Clifford Society's virtual portal. As my apprentice, your starting rank in the Society will automatically be set to Knight. As a Knight, you are entitled to expanded access to our internal library."

Ves silently sighed in relief once Olson referred to him as her apprentice. He hadn't screwed up in any way or made some kind of faux pas that caused the master to reconsider her choice. Right now, he only wished to keep his mouth shut and survive this meeting with his new status intact.

"As you can see, your skills and knowledge are insufficient. There are several other young mech designers who can easily outrace you in that aspect. So tell me, what else distinguishes you from those more talented than you?"

"No matter how impressive they are, most of them have lost. I'm one of the only three who made it past the finish line. Perhaps I'm lucky, but my decision-making has brought me this far. I might not be the smartest designer, but I'm confident that I can match the best of them in terms of wits."

"That is a bold statement." Olson nonchalantly replied. "Whether it is true or not, it is something you should consider for yourself. Let me ask you another question. How many mech designers are stuck in the novice phase?"

The MTA kept track of every mech designer and formally provided them with certifications of their proven skill level. Not any designer could claim to be a master. The MTA strictly tested any mech designer who wished to publicly announce their advancement.

"According to the MTA, over ninety percent of all mech designers are still novices. Of the remainder, half of them are apprentices while the other half are journeymen or higher."

"Do you think all of these novices lack the opportunity to advance? Even if they are not involved in any design work, they can still save up their cols and buy the necessary knowledge over time. Perhaps they will not be able to advance their skills in a couple of years, but they will certainly be able to do so in a couple of decades."

"There are many old designers, but if they take decades when a younger one only needs a couple of years, then it's obvious to masters and employers who they should invest in. Even wealth is not the determining factor, though it surely helps."

Even without the cols to buy a textbook, if you were talented enough, you could apply for grants or knock on the doors of a design company.

"The point I'm making is that a mech designer is more than a vessel of knowledge. We are humans, capable of both irrationality and creativity. Combined, we can create the most wondrous mechs. Too much of it, and we can easily lose sight of our basic needs. A qualified mech designer is one that can exercise sound judgement."

Ves already held some suspicions about the Leemar Open Competition. For an event that attracted tens of thousands of mech designers annually, its rounds were unusually unconventional.

They tested the designers in many different ways. Those who fared poorly in just a single aspect were mercilessly eliminated despite their abundant qualifications. Fairness was never an objective. The masters associated with the LIT simply wanted to see mech designers suffer.

Those who survived the torment have proven themselves to be the most resilient of this year's batch. It was no wonder why even Master Olson paid attention to Ves, if ever so slightly.

"In truth, among my closest subordinates, you are still unqualified to receive my personal guidance. Unlike my disciples, you are older and you have already found your own way. It is up to you to see it to the end. For now, access to the resources provided by the Clifford Society is sufficient. You can return to me once you have advanced to become Journeyman Mech Designer."

Ves expected to be brushed off in some way. A master did not lack for apprentices. Someone at his level was an infant in her eyes. He still needed lots of growing up before he could be of use.

Since Ves only sought to become an apprentice in order to finish his damned mission, the result satisfied him as well. He had no desire for someone watching over his shoulders and finding out about the System.

"I am fine with this arrangement." Ves replied in order to show he wasn't ungrateful or anything. "I've set up a small business in the Bright Republic and I don't plan on giving it up. The Republic is my home."

"That is a good sentiment. A mech designer must always have a home at heart." Master Olson softly praised. "It may be difficult to keep in touch across the star sector, but you may always contact me via your comm if its an emergency. My subordinates should be able to take care of any routine issues. You can get in touch with them through the Clifford Society."

In essence, the Clifford Society was a comprehensive club that did more than bring together Leemar's best alumni and contestants. It also provided a ready-made network for newly inducted disciples and apprentices.

Master Olson patiently spent the next half hour explaining her expectations on his apprenticeship. Despite the rumors surrounding Master Olson, she had been surprisingly accommodating so far. Though she still appeared cold and aloof, she patiently guided Ves through the formalities of becoming her apprentice.

After signing a bunch of digital paperwork, Ves officially gained a new identity as her apprentice. Along with this enviable status, he gained a permanent residency status in the Friday Coalition. No longer would he be considered a total foreigner, which was highly advantageous if he ever decided to do business here.

"Leemar prizes independence. Though you have not gone through our school's rigorous regime, your independent mech workshop constitutes a real-life test. I do not have the habit of holding the hands of my apprentices. Do not cry for me for help if you've only bumped your toe. Make something of yourself and grow from your experiences."

In other words, Master Olson wasn't about to hand Ves a boatload of cols. He had to earn his money with his own two hands. Master Olson wouldn't lift a finger if his business went bankrupt. He should only really ask for help if he encountered a life-threatening situation.

When the meeting came to an end, Master Olson passed him a couple of gifts. First, she retrieved a secure alloy briefcase from seemingly nowhere.

"Open it once you are somewhere private. I recommend you do so on your new ship you've won."

Next, Master Olson extended her hand towards the floating rock. Somehow, palm glowed to life, as if it turned into a hand-sized plasma cutter. With a careful motion, she cut a ball-sized piece from the surface of the rock. She passed the ball to Ves.

"This is a treasure. You will thank me if you ever find out its use."

With those words, she practically shooed him away, leaving her to gaze at the floating ore like it was her husband. A floating platform brought him to an isolated section of the arena, away from the press of the crowd.

A mech pilot garbed in a skin-tight suit leaned against a wall. Once Ves stepped from the platform, the pilot came up and energetically shook his hand.

"Are you Ves Larkinson?"

"Cadet Lovejoy?"

This was the first time they came face to face. Both of them performed above and beyond their limits in order to make it to the top.

They grew closer after a brief chat. Even if they didn't understand each other's fields, they both appreciated their partner's expertise.

"Now that you've won this year's competition, what will you do after you finish your studies?"

"I've already received an offer from the Carnegie Group. I'll be entering an exclusive training program for potential expert pilots."

"That's impressive. I'm sure a major power like the Carnegie Group can polish your talent."

Expert pilots enjoyed the same status as a senior mech designer. They were the true elites who piloted the best advanced mechs of any Mech Corps.

Along with this offer, Cadet Lovejoy also received numerous privileges. Potentates always enjoyed more rights, and as his worth increased, his benefits grew correspondingly.

For once in his life, Ves did not grow jealous. He used to slavishly devote his life to becoming a mech pilot and follow his father's footsteps. After undergoing the past couple of days, his eyes opened to the splendor of his profession.

In his heart, he had already moved on from those childish dreams.

"If you ever visit the Friday Coalition again, be sure to give me a call. If I'm not on duty, I'd be glad to show you around!"

"Thanks a lot. I'll be sure to look you up if I do."

Ves left the arena complex and found his way outside. He had to ask a bot for assistance in order to reunite with Dietrich and Lucky.

"My man Ves! Congratulations on your ass-kicking win!"

"Haha it wasn't easy, that's for sure!"

While Ves and Dietrich talked about the competition, Lucky stared hungrily at the chunk of ore that Master Olson gifted him. Ves noticed his gem cat's preoccupation.

"Woah there, not yet little buddy. I want to look up the minerals first. If I can't find out its composition, I'll let you have it for dinner. It's a promise."

The cat resentfully meowed at him as if it was a given that the ore should end up in his belly. While Ves was convinced the rock should be worth a fortune, he already won plenty of prizes today.

Lucky had accompanied him for several months without receiving much in return. Ves thought it was about time he indulged his pet for once.

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