Ash's gaze remained steady as he took in the mech before him, assessing every detail with swift precision. Towering at ten meters, the machine had an imposing, humanoid form. Its left arm was armed with a silvery shield that gleamed under the room's subdued lights, casting an almost liquid sheen across its surface. In its right hand was a flame blade, its fire-red hue condensed into a sharp edge that seemed dangerously tangible. The primary body of the mech boasted a silver-grey hue, sleek and noble, adorned with a golden crest on its brow—a subtle, yet striking detail that spoke to its elegance and power.
This was clearly a custom-built mech, Ash noted. Its double-layer uranium shield, while not top-tier, was more than enough to block attacks from his Blackbird’s electromagnetic blade. The flame blade, though considered a mid-grade weapon, had enough cutting power that, in just a few strokes, it could slice Blackbird in two. The mech’s main structure was of the “Celestial” model, offering a balanced mix of defence and mobility—critical for preventing any unnecessary strain on its engine. Hidden weapon bays dotted the frame, discreetly housing an array of ranged weapons.
"A true expert," Ash thought with a twinge of caution. With just a glance, he recognised that his opponent was no amateur.
If he had to summarise the mech in one word, Ash would choose “balance.” Though none of its parts were exceptional on their own, they combined to form a well-rounded weapon capable of adapting to any situation. Ash guessed that the engine powering this machine was either a Palerm or a Swordfish-IV, two of the few models capable of elevating its components to their peak performance.
"Formidable," Ash mused, acknowledging the challenge ahead. Even so, he felt no fear. Growing up on Garbage Planet 12 had taught him that one rarely got to choose their battles. All that mattered now was how to win.
“Could the heat gun work?” He dismissed the thought instantly. His opponent would barely flinch at such an attack. The alloy dagger? Useless. It would likely blunt on the first strike against the mech’s reinforced armour. His electromagnetic blade? It might leave a scratch, provided he landed three consecutive strikes on the same spot—a challenging feat.
Ash's mind raced. His survival instincts, honed over years, knew every enemy had a weak point. The throat, perhaps? For most humanoid mechs, it was an Achilles heel, as the dense cluster of light circuits there made it prone to malfunction if damaged. Unfortunately, every mech pilot worth their salt knew this too, and protected it accordingly.
“Not likely,” he muttered to himself, abandoning the idea. The cockpit was even more heavily fortified. Positioned at the centre of the mech’s chest, it was a fortress, encased in the thickest armour plating. No amount of precision strikes would penetrate that.
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The options were narrowing fast. He had to adapt, and quickly. A soft chime sounded. The battle had begun.
Ash banished all unnecessary thoughts, his mind narrowing in focus. He steadied his breathing, preparing himself.
Meanwhile, inside his custom mech “Apollo,” Geben reclined leisurely. With a smirk, his piercing brown eyes gleamed with amusement. His slightly wavy golden hair and aristocratic features gave him an air of elegance and superiority. "Foolhardy," he muttered with a smirk. "Thinking he could take on my Apollo with that pitiful Blackbird? I’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget."
Apollo took a deliberate step forward, each movement radiating supreme confidence. Geben hadn’t even activated his weapons systems—he saw no need. This battle was beneath him, a chance to toy with an insect.
Ash’s Blackbird remained motionless, seemingly awaiting the inevitable.
“Such misfortune,” Geben tutted to himself, savouring the moment. He’d been in a foul mood recently, and this unsuspecting pilot had walked right into his path.
He advanced, brandishing his flame blade with a flick that sent red sparks dancing in the air. To his mind, it was almost like the beginning of a hunt, an inevitable win.
Oddly, though, Ash observed the lack of gunfire with suspicion. Why wasn’t his opponent shooting? It was the simplest, safest way to end this. Instead, Geben seemed intent on drawing out the confrontation. His movements were also curious, needlessly cautious as he closed the distance.
Ash analysed every shift, and as Geben’s blade slashed toward Blackbird’s left wing—leaving his own cockpit wide open—Ash’s confusion grew. The blow was elegant but lacked power and precision. Any true master of a flame blade wouldn’t make such a novice mistake.
In that instant, Ash sensed an opportunity. Without hesitation, he activated Blackbird’s boosters and slid nimbly out of the blade’s path, retaliating with a swift upward strike. His electromagnetic blade connected with Geben’s mech, leaving a long gash across Apollo’s body.
Both mechs were thrown back by the impact, crashing apart from each other in a chaotic tangle of limbs.
Ash’s Blackbird quickly stabilised. Thanks to his rigorous training under Rune, Ash knew how to recover mid-fall. His hands moved deftly, adjusting Blackbird’s auxiliary engines. Within a fraction of a second, all twelve thrusters aligned, setting his trajectory back on track.
The instant Blackbird landed, it sprang back, arching over the battlefield with deadly grace. Ahead, Geben’s Apollo floundered, systems unresponsive.
As Ash closed in, his eyes zeroed in on Apollo’s throat—exposed and vulnerable.
Timing his strike perfectly, he drove his electromagnetic blade forward, piercing Apollo’s neck in a clean, decisive blow. The force was immense, enough to sever the mech’s head nearly from its frame.
Victory.
Ash straightened, taking a steadying breath. This skirmish was over, though it had nearly seemed unwinnable from the outset. The lesson was clear—adaptation, precision, and patience triumphed over brute arrogance.