The arena thrummed with anticipation, its air heavy with the scent of scorched metal and the faint hum of drones circling overhead. At the field's center, a towering holographic screen flickered to life, its azure glow casting the competition's rules in stark relief. Ya Ning's eyes scanned the text, his voice tinged with intrigue. "Each team gets fifteen energy crystals, freely allocated. The order of fighters is secret, decided autonomously…" He paused, a grin spreading. "This is clever. It's not just about who's left standing—limited energy forces tough choices on resource distribution."
Bai Sha, her gaze fixed on the screen, nodded. "Mech energy consumption isn't linear; it fluctuates. This tests how well fighters know their machines and adapt their tactics." The screen withheld player specifics, a deliberate veil over the teams' strategies.
"Sounds like a hassle," Yan Jingyi said, her brow arching. "Why not just slug it out, no frills?"
Bai Sha shrugged, her tone dry. "Who knows what goes through the rulemakers' minds?"
Ya Ning sighed, glancing skyward. He knew the truth: these convoluted rules likely stemmed from the Federation's event committee. Complexity bred variables, tilting the odds in their favor. But this move came at a cost—the next elite team match would be the Empire's to shape, and they'd likely repay the favor with equal cunning.
The match began, both teams dispatching their first fighters. Two mechs strode from their respective staging areas, their hulls gleaming under the artificial sun. The announcer's voice boomed, amplified across the arena: "First round: Federation's Gao Zuofan versus the Empire's Shelley Jim."
A crimson countdown materialized above the ring, ticking down as the mechs took their positions. Gao Zuofan piloted a sleek, dark-gray lightweight mech, dual elbow blades flashing in its grip. Shelley Jim's mech, a platinum-hued heavyweight, brandished a silver serpent-bone whip, its segmented links glinting with menace.
Four, three, two… one!
The countdown vanished, and the mechs collided in a blur of motion. Gao Zuofan leapt high, his blade arcing toward Shelley's cockpit. Shelley countered with a flick of her wrist, the whip snapping taut, its segments locking into a rigid longsword. Sparks flew as Gao's blade clashed against it, the two mechs trading blows in a frenetic dance.
Gao's agility shone, his mech ducking to strike at Shelley's legs. She parried with her sword, its length giving her reach. The blade's edge grazed Gao's waist, a warning—press forward, and it would carve through his armor. Gao hesitated, then pivoted, trapping Shelley's sword between his twin blades and forcing it upward. Shelley responded with a brutal kick, her heavyweight mech's strength sending Gao staggering back.
"Gao's quick," Bai Sha observed, her eyes narrowing. "His attacks focus on the upper body. Trained in fist-fighting?"
Jingyi nodded. "He's got a boxing background."
The duel raged on, Gao's mech weaving through Shelley's assaults. As he braced for another strike, Shelley's sword dissolved back into a whip, its coils ensnaring Gao's arm. With a fierce tug, she yanked him off-balance, her mech's leg sweeping low to topple him. Gao, desperate, hurled his remaining elbow blade, which split into three throwing knives aimed at Shelley's back. She dropped low, her mech nearly kissing the ground to dodge one, then sprang back, retracting her whip to evade the rest.
"That's heavyweight mech agility?" Ya Ning whistled. "Impressive."
"Clumsy pilots don't wield whips," Bai Sha said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Gao's not leveraging his lightweight mech's speed. He's in for a rough fight."
Three minutes later, Gao's last blade was knocked away, and he retreated, defeated. Shelley stood triumphant, ready for the next challenger. The Empire claimed the first round.
Ya Ning nudged Bai Sha. "You've got a sharp eye. How much energy did they burn?"
Bai Sha sighed. "Hard to tell—probably similar amounts. I'm a mech engineer, not a psychic. It's just the first round; we'll see more later."
The Federation sent their second fighter, a familiar face. "Round two: Federation's Dai Sheng versus the Empire's Shelley Jim."
Bai Sha's memory stirred—Dai Sheng was among the Federation's elite, a formidable force. Deploying him so early suggested a bold strategy: banking most of their energy crystals on him to outlast opponents. The rules rewarded surviving fighters, not leftover crystals. Both teams, it seemed, prioritized their heavy hitters early.
Dai Sheng looked much as she remembered, though his newly shaved head lent his features a steely resolve. Their mechs clashed, engines roaring. Shelley morphed her whip into a sword; Dai Sheng's blade met it with a resounding clang, the shockwave rippling visibly through the air. Shelley's sword trembled under the force.
She shifted tactics, her whip uncoiling to weave a strangling trap. Dai Sheng countered with a sweeping strike, his blade glancing off the whip's jagged segments. Occasionally, his knife caught in the whip's joints, risking entanglement, but his deft footwork kept him free, his blade's light flowing like water.
For thirty seconds, they were evenly matched, a spectacle of skill and precision. Then Shelley lashed her whip toward Dai Sheng's upper right—a void, empty of targets. Puzzled but cautious, Dai Sheng blocked the strike, only for Shelley to dart past him, sprinting toward the arena's edge. In a blur, she leapt off, eliminating herself.
Dai Sheng froze, bewildered. The stands erupted in murmurs.
The announcer cleared his throat. "Second round: Federation victory."
Jingyi's eyes widened. "She just… quit?"
"Smart move," Bai Sha said, suppressing a chuckle. "No clear winner, so don't waste energy. Shelley's got crystals left to pass to her team."
"Round three: Federation's Dai Sheng versus the Empire's Wan Yuexin."
Wan Yuexin's white heavyweight mech lumbered onto the stage, dual curved shields strapped to its arms, exuding an oddly defiant swagger. As the countdown began—five, four—a metallic clank echoed. Wan crouched, his shields snapping together like a clamshell, encasing him in an impervious cocoon.
Dai Sheng stared. The crowd gaped.
"Cheater!" a Federation student shouted. "Two shields? That's unfair!"
"No rule bans specific weapons or gear," an imperial student retorted, smirking. "Don't tell me you didn't consider similar tricks."
The Federation student sputtered. "We'd never use such shameless tactics!"
"Oh? Who was it that pulled a sneaky win last round?" the imperial shot back. "Takes gall to call that honorable."
The stands grew lively, barbs flying, but no one dared escalate to blows—arena brawls were a fast track to disciplinary action. On the field, Dai Sheng remained unfazed, his expression calm as he tested the shields' seams. His blade sparked against the fortified alloy, prying at the edges, but the shields, magnetized, snapped shut with relentless precision.
For four minutes, Dai Sheng hammered away, sparks cascading like miniature fireworks. The crowd's excitement waned, replaced by a numbed silence, broken only by the rhythmic clang of his strikes. Then, panting faintly, he lowered his blade.
"I know your energy's low," he said, his voice steady. "You're running on fumes, aren't you?"
"Who's to say?" Wan Yuexin's tone was maddeningly casual. "Care to bet?"
Dai Sheng carried ample crystals, but Wan's tactic was a gamble. If Wan was nearly drained, persistent attacks could oust him. But if Wan had reserves, his defensive stance consumed far less energy than Dai Sheng's onslaught. Continuing risked depleting Dai Sheng's crystals, jeoparding his team's later fighters.
Dai Sheng fell silent for two seconds. Then, sheathing his blade, he leapt from the stage.
"Round three: Empire's Wan Yuexin wins."
The Federation countered with a flame-gun-wielding fighter, whose blazing assault overwhelmed Wan's shields but burned through their own energy, forcing a mutual exit—a brutal one-for-one trade. The tally stood at two Federation fighters and three imperial fighters remaining.
Kaisin Greiz, the Empire's linchpin, was slotted third, a strategic midpoint. What followed was a massacre. His fully charged beast-form mech tore through the Federation's final two fighters in under ten minutes, its ferocity unchained, a storm of claws and plasma. The arena fell silent, the crowd stunned by the display.
Bai Sha watched Kaisin's mech, its hull radiant under the spotlight, and sighed. "If I'd known this 'team' match was just glorified dueling, I wouldn't have bothered with all those bonding exercises."
Ya Ning slung an arm around her, grinning. "What's that? Your Empire won, and you're still grumbling?"
The victory was undeniable, yet Bai Sha's mind churned. The rules, the energy caps, the gauntlet format—it all felt engineered, a web spun to test not just skill but cunning. Jiang Gui's warning lingered: her string of "accidents" pointed to a hidden hand, possibly the Silver Nexus or its human agents. Was this match another move in their game, designed to expose weaknesses or provoke her?
She shook off the thought, focusing on Kaisin's triumph. His mech stood like a titan, unbowed, its presence a rebuke to any who doubted the Empire's might. Yet the Federation's earlier win, secured through Janice's guile, proved they weren't to be underestimated. The next match, shaped by imperial rules, would be their chance to settle the score.
As the crowd dispersed, Bai Sha, Ya Ning, and Jingyi lingered, the arena's wind carrying the faint tang of ozone. "What now?" Jingyi asked, adjusting her sunglasses.
"Back to Youdu," Bai Sha said. "Got work to finish. You two?"
"Training," Ya Ning groaned. "The Federation's not letting this loss slide. We'll be drilling nonstop."
Jingyi smirked. "Better than paperwork. Sha Sha, you're drowning in royal duties, aren't you?"
Bai Sha snorted. "Don't remind me." Her role as Crown Heir loomed, a mantle of responsibility she hadn't fully embraced. The Lone Light, her origins, and the Sea Kind's enigma tugged at her, but duty—and Jiang Gui's relentless training—kept her grounded.
They parted with promises to reconnect, Bai Sha slipping through the thinning crowd, her disguise intact. The starship awaited, its royal lane a swift path home. As she boarded, her thoughts drifted to the Yi-Shooting Arrows and the Crow's Cry Bow. Completing the set would be her next challenge, a step toward legendary status. But beyond the forge, a larger question loomed: who was pulling the strings, and how long could she evade their grasp?
The arena faded behind her, a fleeting stage in a galaxy of schemes. Bai Sha's resolve hardened—she'd face whatever came, blade and bow in hand.