The sheer strain of those maneuvers would have crushed an ordinary pilot. Even with a top-tier G-force dampening system, the pilot's body still had to endure the whiplash of each violent shift in momentum. Bones would creak. Organs would churn. A moment's hesitation, and the cockpit would become a coffin.
Only someone with immense physical strength, sharpened instincts, and absolute mastery over their nervous system could ride that storm without blacking out.
Kubwa Chaka was doing it like he was born in the heart of a hurricane.
And it was sniffing for weakness. Tasting for blood. Drawing closer.
"He's not even trying to aim!" Grumpy Bear screamed. "He's sniffing him out! Look at those high-speed step patterns! This is hunter-killer programming layered on top of instinctive AI mimicry. That mecha doesn't think. It hunts."
"And it's adapting," Sleepy Smile murmured. "Those aren't random movements. It's testing Damien's read pattern. Seeing if he flinches."
