Ares Empire, Tianxu Star
With a hiss, the holo-cabin's hatch slid open. A lanky blond youth scrambled out, stumbling toward his bedroom door. Outside his window, floating isles dotted the sky, crowned with grand edifices. At their peak, jagged cliffs loomed, draped with crystalline waterfalls and lush, verdant groves.
The surreal vista barely registered—he was sick of it. Without pause, he shoved open his door, striding into a corridor.
A lion dozing by the threshold snapped awake, its golden mane glinting. Ears twitching, it stretched, nuzzling his feet with a playful growl.
"Good boy, scoot—I've got to see the old man. I'll play later."
The lion rose, shook its thick mane, circled him twice, then dissolved into golden sparks.
The youth inhaled sharply, charging through carved wooden doors along the corridor, bursting into a study. "Father—I saw His Majesty in Boundless City!"
Two men seated opposite each other turned. The youth froze, realizing his father had company. The guest, resplendent, occupied the main seat, while his stern father sat aside, glaring, brows knit tight enough to crush stone.
The youth's eyes locked on the guest—a youth of unearthly beauty, sharp and menacing. Silver hair, blue eyes, age unplaceable. Half-shrouded in shadow, he seemed to still the world around him, save for the radiant gold sash and lotus-star medal at his chest.
He raised a brow, fingers twitching with faint irritation. The blond youth jolted, tongue-tied.
"M-Majesty…"
He wanted to slap himself. If His Majesty was here, who—or what—had he seen in Boundless City?
Back at the Mech-Tech Alliance Summit, Baisha completed her registration, receiving a digital ID card. Loading it into her optic-link, a new icon appeared: a gear wreathed in gold-red flames.
Clicking it revealed the Summit's member list, names tagged with ranks from Level 1 to 6—novice to "Legendary Master."
"Ranks come with monthly point stipends," said the bespectacled brunette, Vander, eagerly. "Earn more through Q&A boards, commissions, or design contests. Points buy mech materials in the store, even master-grade blueprints."
Baisha browsed the store. Materials ranged from C-grade to S-grade, the latter's point costs astronomical. Her eyes snagged on an S-grade listing: Ghost Bug Bone.
Baisha's chest twinged. Not that bug again.
Zhou Yue, beside her, quietly closed the store.
"Here's the discussion board," Vander said, pointing to a cloud-shaped icon. Baisha opened it as he explained, "Post questions freely. Gold-coin threads are bounties—coins equal points. Answer well, and the asker transfers points. You can also invite specific members for private queries."
To demonstrate, Vander sent Baisha a direct bounty via his link.
[Member 'Vander' invites 'Hard-Earned Cash' to a targeted Q&A. Bounty: 100 points.]
A hundred points could snag a B-grade metal. Baisha blinked. "Typo? Extra zero?"
"No way," Vander said, shaking his head. "I've worked registration a year—you're the first to ace that blueprint test. Your extra tweak? I'd toyed with similar ideas but lacked clarity. Your insight's worth every point."
The blueprint was dated, its tech outpaced by modern advances. Her suggestions were more conceptual than practical, yet Vander's hundred points were a steal. To earn it, she dove into a half-hour debate.
Zhou Yue, lost in their jargon, stayed quiet. Vander tried roping him in once, but Zhou Yue admitted he wasn't a tech, earning zero glances thereafter.
When the talk wrapped, Vander, still buzzing, sent Baisha a friend request. "Call me Vander," he said, nodding. "You? 'Cash Master' or 'Hard-Earned Master'?"
"Whatever," Baisha said. "I'm rarely online—hit me up there."
"Got it," Vander said, flashing a measured smile. "May you find kindred spirits here."
Post-registration, Baisha and Zhou Yue toured the Summit's mech gallery, a holo-showcase of historic masterpieces. Some she recognized—prized by the military or academies. Others, private heirlooms, were scattered across the stars, untouchable. Modern techs could only drool over grainy old vids.
"Someday, my work'll be here," Baisha said, mesmerized by the towering mechs. "I won't let dust claim them."
"You'll make it," Zhou Yue said. "Mid-grade skill at your age? Your future's bright."
Tech licenses required adulthood—Zhou Ying, his brother, had griped about the same. He'd called the Federation's tech guild stodgy, judging by age and tenure. Furious that the Summit demanded a license, Zhou Ying had sworn off Boundless City.
Zhou Yue's thoughts kept drifting to him. That proud, prickly Zhou Ying.
Baisha, lost in the mechs, noticed Zhou Yue's daze. "You okay? Tired? Sorry, I dragged you here, kept you up."
Zhou Yue wasn't new to Boundless City. Without her rush, they could've come anytime, not burned the midnight oil.
"Let's log off," she said. "I'm beat. We'll come back."
Zhou Yue's eyes softened, and he nodded meekly.
They parted, disconnecting. Baisha shed her sensory gear, collapsed on her bed, and saw dawn's faint glow. Not exhausted, but she forced sleep.
In dreams, her old job surfaced—pre-transmigration, a half-done blueprint. Then, chaos: sparring with Jingyi and Yaning, battling bugs on Hanbo, merging with a silent star-sea glimpsed from a starship, pulsing with cosmic lights.
Chirp-chirp! Chirp!
Baisha snapped awake, body heavy from the all-nighter. Her link read nine a.m.—four hours since she'd crashed at four.
No more late nights, ever. She'd sworn she'd heard birds, a phantom echo. Was her childhood fainting spell back?
Teacher Liao pinged: "Skipped class?"
Brushing her teeth, Baisha replied, "Yeah, faked a sick day."
Liao: "Swing by the shop. Big job."
Wiping her face, Baisha bolted to Liao's repair shop. Money talks, and she listened.
At the shop, two strangers stood with Liao.
"Here she is—my apprentice, Baisha," Liao said, nudging her forward. "Baisha, meet Freeman, a G2 underground fighter, and his tagalong, Ellen Moge."
Baisha froze. Freeman she knew—posters of the burly star plastered the ring's walls and bars. A heavyweight, his punches were raw thunder, style pure fire. Ellen Moge? The actuary who'd pitched Jingyi a fixed-fight scam.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Baisha said, playing stranger, her tone smooth. But Ellen's smile crumbled the second he saw her, his acting flimsier than paper.
"Hey!" Freeman's voice boomed, warm. He laughed, clapping her shoulder. "Heard Liao's top student was a young lass, but this young?"
His hand tested her—solid as stone, she didn't budge. A fighter's frame, he noted, grin widening.
"Age is nothing," Liao said, slumping into a chair, eyeing Ellen. "She's handled my jobs for years—you've heard her rep. But you, Moge—met my girl before?"
All eyes pinned Ellen. His face paled, words stuck. Baisha cut in, "We crossed paths at the ring. Briefly."
"Yeah," Ellen managed, smile stiff. "Briefly."
"Old friends? Perfect," Freeman said, oblivious. "Moge, you're on my team radar—handle this gear order."
Ellen nodded, strained.
"What's the job?" Baisha asked, pulling up her link to draft a contract—her rule for custom work. "Specs?"
"Gear's getting wild in the ring," Freeman said, sending a data sheet of his vitals and desired boosts. "My half-year-old exosuit's dated. Liao's stuff lasts—I need durable. This is my life on the line."
"Send me the ring's gear rules," Baisha said, chin in hand. "Don't want new alloys or welds flagging you for violations."
Freeman pinged the rules. "Done."
"Beyond performance, any style preferences?" she asked.
"Flashy as hell," Freeman said. "Sparks, lightning—max impact. Pros see skill, fans want a show. I win, but I want it slick, stunning."
"I've got an alternative," Baisha said, her blue eyes glinting like a calm sea hiding currents. "Ditch the exosuit for full-body mech-armor. Interested?"
Freeman blinked. "Armor? Won't it slow me?"
"Nope—my design, one-of-a-kind," she said, projecting a holo-blueprint. "Sketched it after a ring match. Light-alloy armor, electromagnetic joints for easier moves. Fully modular, durable, upgradable. I'll toss in safe effects—sparks, lightning, all flair."
Freeman's eyes sparkled, leaning in. "Hell, this looks like a humanoid mech!"
Baisha: "…"
"Ahem," she coughed. "If it's too much, we can stick to standard."
"Standard? Nah!" Freeman roared, stars in his eyes. "I love bold! Name the price—three hundred grand?"
Liao's brow twitched—half Freeman's net worth. Baisha's smile bloomed, warm as spring, clasping his hand. "Deal."
Liao and Ellen: "…"
Fifteen minutes later, Freeman bounced out, thrilled, while Ellen trailed, face a knot of unease.
Liao squinted at Baisha. "What's with Moge? Looked like he saw a ghost."
"He's an actuary—tried roping Jingyi into a rigged fight. She shut him down," Baisha said, grinning at her fifteen-grand advance. "He's cozying up to Freeman, probably scared I'll spill his dirt."
"Freeman's brash, not sharp," Liao sighed.
"Your buddy? Should've said—I'd have cut him a deal," Baisha teased. "Too late now—contract's signed. I'll make his armor sing."
A whirring sound rose. A green bot, "Gua-Gua," rolled up with a tray of honey water, chirping, "Drink—water."
"Thanks, Gua-Gua," Baisha said, sipping, heart sweeter than the drink.
Liao took a cup, his cybernetic eye whirring, then sighed. "Still green, kid."
Baisha: "?"
"Why not sell that armor's blueprint to the ring or patent it, let techs pay licensing fees?" he said, slow.
Baisha: "…"
She could've cashed in passively. The three hundred grand was big, but costs ate most of it—her cut was slim. Once Freeman debuted the armor, techs would reverse-engineer it overnight. Their contract locked her from reselling the design short-term, and Freeman couldn't chase copycats for her.
She'd fumbled a fortune.
Her mantra faltered. "It's fine… took two hours to draw. Not a loss. Not a loss."
Liao: "…"
"Not a loss, my foot! Why didn't you stop me?" she wailed.
Liao smirked. "Freeman's my pal."
"I'm your student! Don't care I'm broke?" she shot back.
Their bickering echoed; Gua-Gua, sensing chaos, scooted to a corner, its lamp flickering, tilting with a puzzled, "Gua?"
Two Years Later
Baisha sat in a mech cockpit, fingers dancing across a holo-panel. Beneath a lone moon, she piloted a silver mech, surfing sand dunes in an endless desert. Aiming twin metal arrows, she fired—swoosh—nailing two red-eyed giant wolves through their hearts.
The beasts whimpered, tumbling into the sands.
Steering against the wind, a sudden sandstorm blinded her. She drew another arrow, firing through the haze. The arrow pierced the sand wall; air froze, grains plummeting. A three-man-tall centipede-beast erupted, its white-fanged maw roaring.
Baisha sidestepped, dodging its psychic sonic blast. Drawing a long blade, she flipped her mech's wings, circling behind, and drove the blade into its spine.
The beast thrashed. Baisha pushed deeper, counting silently: One, two, three…
It twisted, black legs clawing to trap her. She drew a pistol, blasting each limb with pinpoint shots.
Eight, nine, ten…
At ten, white fluid gushed from the wound, mingling with green blood, streaking the beast's scales. It wailed, collapsing lifeless.
Baisha landed, shook blood from her blade, and a panel popped up:
[Challenge Time: 1:12.]
[Mech Damage: 1%.]
[Weapon Metrics…]
She scanned the data, saved, and exited. The desert, moon, corpses, and mech faded to a white void.
She'd lost count of her chip's mech-pilot sim runs. It was smart—random terrains, weather, monsters, with no fixed patterns, mimicking real combat's chaos. But the monster pool was limited, their moves predictable. Bored, she'd started testing weapons, targeting different parts, timing kill variations.
These creatures were real, she bet. No guarantee she'd face them, but prep never hurt.
Logging off, Baisha removed her sensory glasses, turning to Jingyi, who was grinding practice tests. "One-twelve this time."
"Record broken," Jingyi said, nodding. "My turn."
Two years on, Jingyi and Yaning had rinsed the chip's courses dry. But the academy entrance exam loomed—practical combat plus written tests: Federation history, military theory, mech basics, combat safety. Written scores were thirty percent; Central demanded eighty-five percent minimum. They buried themselves in books for stability.
Baisha aced these; Jingyi held steady. Yaning? His mech basics flopped—bizarre errors, like miswired diagrams. He blamed a cosmic feud with machines.
"I need to relearn lines," Yaning muttered, chewing his pen, showing Baisha a sketch.
She stared. "Wrong wire."
"Knew it," he groaned.
"Quit whining," Jingyi said, gearing up. "I'm breaking records."
"Why do you two get to play while I'm stuck drawing?" Yaning griped. "Haven't touched my link in three days."
"When you wire right," Baisha said, patting his shoulder sagely.
Yaning had a link, but it was basic, like Baisha's old one—no bells or whistles.
Beep-beep.
Yaning's link flashed. Tying his red hair into a messy knot, he opened a holo-screen. Their class chat was exploding.
"Holy—!" Yaning yelped, nearly leaping.
"What?" Baisha and Jingyi dropped everything, crowding him.
"Class chat says Luodeng Star's here!" Yaning's face lit up. "Thirteenth District's 'Academy Prep Boost Plan'—they're delivering mechs!"
"Real mechs!"