Half a year passed in the blink of an eye. Just as the principal had said, only twenty percent of the students in the Solo Soldier Department remained after six months. From the original hundred, only twenty were left. Naturally, the three A-ranked students were included. Most of the rest were B-ranked, and C-ranked students had nearly vanished from sight.
My underground arena rank had risen from level one to level three. One victory now granted ten thousand credits. Wang Mian occasionally sent a few messages, but since he left, we had never seen each other again. Everything proceeded methodically.
Today, the Solo Soldier Department faced a special large-scale training. I stepped onto the plaza and saw two mechas in the center.
I recalled the first time I had arrived at Village 173, standing before two mechas outside the weapon store. The difference now was clear. These mechas looked old, paint faded, slightly battered, yet fully functional. Their performance remained reliable. The twenty students on the plaza were visibly excited, eager to try piloting the mechas themselves.
The instructor for this training was Song Ran, a mechanical teacher from another planet. He had been an S-ranked soldier, an expert in mecha combat. Rumor said his ability to control a mecha was unmatched. He spoke with authority. "Controlling a mecha requires complete focus. Your five senses must synchronize with the machine. Only then will you master its movements and fighting potential."
With limited mechas, we took turns. For many, the first attempt was clumsy. Legs wobbled, steps faltered, even the first step seemed impossible. Some tried to move quickly and stumbled into the mecha's edges. Others attempted to use the internal weapon systems but pressed the wrong buttons, or their strength faltered, leaving missiles inactive. The plaza rang with the groans of machines, metal scraping, and students' surprised cries.
When my turn came, I inhaled deeply, centering my mind, letting every sense merge with the mecha. At startup, the weight and inertia pressed down so heavily it almost stole my breath.
It felt like a crystal ball testing talent. Sharp headaches struck instantly, memories surged like a tide, each frame threatening to tear me apart. I fought to suppress it, pouring every ounce of mental power into moving the mecha. Yet with every attempt, pain and memories intensified. The harder it became, the stronger my resolve. My will blazed like fire.
Suddenly, darkness overtook me. I collapsed inside the cockpit. Song Ran's voice shouted urgently. "Take Aurora to the infirmary!" Footsteps pounded as I lost consciousness.
When I awoke, my head spun, but memories began to clarify. The scrap yard resurfaced in my mind. Two armored figures fought fiercely against alien monsters, explosions and sparks scattered across the metal wasteland. A small figure—my body's former owner—clutched a nutrient vial, blood pooling around, nearly dying. Death flashed before his eyes, short but vivid.
That body had found the nutrient liquid during an alien monster attack. Two heavily armored figures, a man and a woman, flew in on single-person craft, wielding high-energy guns, rapidly closing on the monsters. Bullets and energy blasts hit the monsters' joints and armor precisely. The alien shrieked, claws flailing, metal and explosions tearing the landscape into chaos.
The small figure could only dodge the aftermath, powerless against the collateral damage. Shockwaves from explosions sent metal shards flying, the vial dropped, blood reflecting the cold metal ruins in a scene that resembled a post-apocalyptic nightmare. Eventually, the small body fell, the death image vanishing.
Those life-and-death moments seared into my memory. Passing out in the mecha had only triggered them. It was as if I had returned to a battlefield, truly experiencing helplessness in the face of alien threats and violent collateral forces.
The next day, I returned to the plaza for another mecha lesson. The moment I entered, I froze. My rival Bai Tou had brought a mecha with him.
I gasped. "That's the same mecha from the weapon store in the village!" Its vivid colors, slightly awkward yet unique design—impossible to miss. Bai Tou had brought it here.
He noticed my gaze and curled his lips into a cold smirk. "So this is Aurora, the one who couldn't even control a mecha," he taunted, dripping with mockery.
I lifted my chin, smirking. "Oh, this mecha looks familiar. Must be your first time with it too, right?"
He frowned and pointed at the machine. "Hmph, don't pass out again."
I raised a hand in mock surrender. "Relax. I'm not giving free acrobatics today."
A few classmates chuckled. The tension remained, yet a touch of lightness lingered. I noted Bai Tou's mindset carefully. He clearly had not fully mastered the mecha, and if I stayed calm, I had a chance to turn the tables.
I stepped onto the school's mecha, feeling every hydraulic line, every mechanical feedback synchronizing with my heartbeat. Memories of the scrap yard combat flickered through my mind. I reminded myself to maintain complete focus. Any distraction could reveal a weakness to Bai Tou.
He watched as I started the mecha, eyes filled with disdain and curiosity. He muttered, "You? You'll last maybe a minute."
I said nothing, slowly adjusting my breathing, feeling the weight and inertia. My fingers trembled slightly on the controls, sensing every joint's resistance. I reminded myself that I could not pass out this time. He must never see my weakness.
When the training signal rang, Bai Tou advanced first. His movements were agile but showy, flaunting his new mecha. I followed cautiously, controlling balance and speed, recalling yesterday's fainting. A restrained fire burned within me. This was not just training. It was a response.
I observed Bai Tou carefully, analyzing every move, every weapon trajectory. I calculated mentally. By controlling the rhythm and acting with precision and mental focus, I could gradually nullify his advantage.
Spectators whispered. Some marveled at Bai Tou, others watched me intently. I focused solely on him and the mecha. Every breath synced with the machine's movements.
I knew this battle was not just physical but a test of intelligence, mental power, and psychological endurance. His provocation ignited a long-dormant fighting spirit.
Compared to my first attempt yesterday, my control was smooth. Commands transmitted seamlessly. Inertia and weight felt familiar. The piercing pain and dizziness of yesterday were gone. Memory fragments from the former body had integrated. I finally understood the subtle link between mind and machine.
I smiled inwardly. Memories had not only restored my experience but erased the previous pain. I had more confidence than anyone to face Bai Tou's challenge.
The training signal rang again. Bai Tou surged forward, mecha precise, weapons flashing red in the air, hydraulics roaring. I inhaled, gripping the controls, pouring mental energy into the machine. Every joint, every hydraulic line synced with my awareness. I recalled the scrap yard battle. The killer instincts stirred within me. Precision mattered more than speed.
Bai Tou struck first, a massive mechanical punch cutting through the air toward me. It came too fast to avoid with brute reaction, but I shifted the mecha's weight slightly, evading the impact while targeting his weak point.
"This is my chance," I whispered.
The mecha's right arm swung with crushing force, striking Bai Tou's shoulder joint. A sharp click resounded. Hydraulics momentarily faltered. His mecha hesitated.
He scrambled, using thrusters to dodge and scanning for a counter. I calculated distance and trajectory. Each action precise. My left arm extended, the built-in short blade slicing a hydraulic line, forcing his mecha to stagger briefly.
Spectators gasped. Bai Tou's expression sharpened, fully serious now. I analyzed each movement, every weapon release.
"Synchronize mind and mecha. No distractions," I reminded myself. Memories of the scrap yard confirmed it. One lapse could mean failure, even serious injury.
I adjusted stance, moved forward using terrain for cover, activating the internal weapon system. Each high-energy impact hit exposed joints with deadly precision.
Bai Tou countered rapidly, using his mecha's legs and collisions to disrupt my rhythm. I predicted his trajectory, dodging smoothly, using rotational attacks to strike his weak points accurately.
After several rounds, his mecha slowed noticeably. Hydraulics screamed warnings. My mecha remained steady, mind and machine fused, actions clean and precise.
The final strike was a rotating uppercut to his core interface. Alarms blared. His mecha froze, unable to move.
The plaza erupted. I withdrew calmly, observing Bai Tou, eyes wide with shock and reluctance.
"This time, you underestimated me," I said softly.
He clenched his jaw, lips curling into a faint smirk, but remained silent. My entire body was exhausted, heart pounding, yet victory felt intoxicating. This was not just skill, but mental power and judgment triumphing.
From that moment, I understood: a mecha was more than strength. It was the union of will, calm, and strategy. Only by fully mastering mind and machine could one gain the upper hand.
Bai Tou's immobilized mecha left the plaza briefly quiet before murmurs rose. Some praised quietly, some stared in awe. His face paled slightly, then regained composure. His eyes flickered with complex emotion: resentment, caution, and recognition.
"You… are getting harder to deal with," he murmured, surprise barely hidden.
I said nothing, slowly retracting my mental focus, letting the mecha return to standby. Around us, classmates evaluated the duel fervently, some rethinking Bai Tou's intimidation.
In the following days, training advanced. Obstacles, ruins, narrow passages, slanted platforms, moving hazards, and virtual enemies tested our full concentration. Bai Tou remained a formidable rival, challenging me every session. Yet I remained calm. Past experience taught me that patience and precision were deadlier than recklessness.
I refined strategies:
Predictive responses to anticipate Bai Tou's moves
Environmental use to avoid direct confrontation while seeking openings
Weapon fine-tuning to improve short and long-range attacks and mechanical arm precision
Every session strengthened the fusion of mental power and machine. Despite fatigue, my mind stayed sharp. I could instantly detect vulnerabilities in his actions.
Bai Tou reacted increasingly, using feints, sudden retreats, and aggressive attacks. I calculated silently, countering efficiently with minimal movement.
After training, I studied my armor, hydraulics, and considered improvements. Bai Tou sometimes lingered, observing silently, offering no words.
Rumors spread: Aurora's mecha control grew exceptional. Few shots were needed to strike accurately, even in complex terrain. Bai Tou became the standard by which I measured my growth, each duel forcing me beyond limits.
One day, Song Ran called me aside. "Aurora, your mental synchronization with the mecha is nearly perfect. Continue like this. You can attempt more advanced chained maneuvers. You can also challenge higher-class mechas. The ones prepared by the school are only B-class, suitable for most students and requiring relatively little mental energy. But I can sense that your mental strength isn't fixed at A-class. It seems to be rising. When you have the chance, try an A-class battle armor."
I inhaled deeply, eyes on the mecha awaiting in the plaza, feeling the familiar thrill. Each operation was a challenge, each chance a growth opportunity.
From then on, mecha training became more than a class. It became the stage to challenge Bai Tou and my own limits. Every encounter reaffirmed a truth: precision, calm, and strategy were the core principles to remain undefeated in the world of solo soldiers and mechas.