Ash stood out as the youngest member of Aurora, the exclusive discussion circle of mech experts. At barely twenty, he was a stark contrast to the group’s average age, which comfortably hovered above sixty.
Ash's entry into Aurora had been a complete accident. A naive wanderer in the vast expanse of the virtual network, he stumbled into the group’s private discussion room. Initially ignored by the elderly members, Ash found himself captivated by their debate over mech engine pipeline designs. He listened intently, curiosity outweighing his sense of propriety.
Two of the group’s members were locked in a heated argument, each fiercely defending their proposed solutions. Enthralled, Ash suddenly recalled a schematic of Rune’s engine he had seen recently. Without thinking, he blurted out a suggestion that combined elements of both approaches while addressing their shortcomings.
The room went silent.
Every pair of eyes turned toward Ash, studying the intruder who dared to speak in such a revered space. He froze, overwhelmed by their collective gaze.
Against all odds, the suggestion gained traction. Within minutes, the argument evolved into a productive discussion, with Ash at its center. One of the elders, amused and impressed, insisted Ash join Aurora. Despite his protests, the group unanimously agreed, leaving Ash with little choice but to become part of their prestigious circle.
Though Ash had grown up confident in his skills, Aurora shattered his pride. Here, even the most minor issue was dissected with a depth and complexity that dwarfed anything he had ever encountered. Yet, Ash's solid foundation and insatiable curiosity helped him keep pace. Like a sponge, he absorbed everything the elders threw his way, his growth startling even the most seasoned veterans among them.
As time passed, Ash’s unique combination of raw talent, diligent study, and unyielding persistence earned him the affection of the group. For many members of Aurora, Ash represented hope—a chance to pass on decades of accumulated knowledge to someone capable of carrying their legacy forward.
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However, this came with a price.
Whenever Ash entered the discussion room, the elders descended on him like hungry wolves.
“Ash, my boy!” one exclaimed, waving eagerly. “Have you made sense of the equation I gave you last week? No? That’s fine! We’ll start from a different perspective today…”
Another elder interrupted, scolding the first, “You old buzzard, don’t overwhelm the lad! Ash, come here. Let me see if you’ve grown any taller since last time. No? Well, never mind. Height is trivial; what matters is knowledge!” He shoved a data chip into Ash’s hands. “Here, take this. It’s a summary of my life’s work. Read it when you have time!”
The first elder scoffed, “Sneaky as always, aren’t you, Old Du? Well, two can play at this game!”
Amid the chaos, Ash stood bewildered, clutching the data chip, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
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Elsewhere, in a luxurious chamber adorned with opulent furnishings, Geben seethed with rage.
The young noble’s handsome features twisted into a mask of fury. His mind replayed the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of a mysterious opponent—an opponent who had effortlessly outclassed him, turning what he thought was a masterful performance into a pitiful farce.
Damn him! Damn that YC! Geben’s thoughts spiraled into vindictive fury. He hurled his virtual network connector to the floor, where it shattered into pieces.
How dare he mock me? Me! Geben's breath quickened as his imagination conjured vivid fantasies of vengeance.
“I won’t let this slide,” he growled to himself, his voice low and menacing. “No one humiliates Geben von Carlisle and walks away unscathed.”
His anger gradually simmered into cold calculation. Geben picked up a communicator and summoned his trusted steward.
Moments later, an older man entered the room. With his shrewd eyes and composed demeanor, Mr. Qiu epitomized competence. He bowed slightly, awaiting Geben’s orders.
“I want everything on a certain YC from the combat training database,” Geben said, enunciating each word with venomous precision. “Every scrap of data. Nothing less than his complete profile.”
Mr. Qiu’s eyes flickered with unease, though his expression remained neutral. He knew his master well enough to understand what this meant for the poor soul who had incurred Geben’s wrath.
“Yes, young master,” Mr. Qiu replied smoothly. He bowed again before retreating to carry out the task.
Alone once more, Geben allowed a cruel smile to creep across his face.
“You’ll regret crossing me,” he murmured, lifting a crystal goblet filled with vintage red wine. He swirled the liquid, its crimson hue catching the light like freshly spilled blood.
Geben took a slow sip, savouring the taste as if it were the promise of his rival's inevitable downfall.