Almost simultaneously, both mechs moved, and a blinding flash lit up Ash’s eyes. Almost by instinct, he raised his titanium shield and rolled to the ground. As he struggled to his feet, he realized that he hadn’t dodged in time—the shield had offered nearly no protection, pierced right through. A sharp graze cut across his left side.
His opponent paused, clearly surprised that the shot hadn’t finished Ash off. Realizing the shield was useless, Ash cast it aside and started sprinting, weaving between obstacles to obscure his opponent’s line of sight.
But his opponent was clearly a veteran. Without a hint of hesitation, they exploited the Shadow Hawk II’s specialties to the fullest. Ash was soon struck by the second shot.
After being killed for the Nth time, Ash’s frustration turned into resolve. With red-rimmed eyes, he demanded another rematch, again and again.
After yet another loss, Rune’s languid voice echoed over the comms: “There are sixty-two known ways to dodge shots. Want me to teach you one?”
Ash couldn’t help but burst out, “Rune, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Just watching me die over and over? You’re really something else!”
Rune replied flatly, “Psychological studies suggest people have a 90%-96% chance of forming a lasting memory from painful failures, with a 52%-63% likelihood of using it as motivation. I’m confident this is now firmly etched in your memory.”
Ash, seething, nearly jumped out of his mech to confront Rune. “You… you… you’re ruthless!”
Rune ignored him, pulling up a short clip. Ash swallowed his retort, focusing intently on the footage—only ten seconds long. He forced his eyes wide open, determined not to miss even a second.
Rune left him with a single phrase: “Watch closely!”
The footage showed a Blackbird mech moving with astonishing agility. Its seemingly chaotic wave-like movements flowed seamlessly, making it impossible to predict its next position.
For the first time, Ash understood just how skilled one could become, and he felt his blood begin to boil with excitement.
Meanwhile, Sarah, far across the galaxy from Garbage Planet 12, bit her lip and knit her delicate brows in concentration. Sweet-faced, yet looking puzzled, she pondered about her opponent known only as YC.
Although YC wasn’t on her level, Sarah couldn’t help but admire his resilience. Each time YC lost without question, he still got back up. Not everyone had that level of determination.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Winning against YC hadn’t brought Sarah any joy—he was clearly a beginner. The Blackbird mech, the one he used, was universally recognized as a newbie’s model. Defeating a novice was no achievement for someone who’d been rigorously trained since childhood under expert guidance.
And yet, whenever YC challenged her to another match, she couldn’t resist accepting. Perhaps a match like this seemed pointless to others, but YC’s sheer courage deserved a response. A hint of curiosity stirred within her, growing ever so slightly.
Who exactly was YC?
Back in the arena, Ash didn’t immediately request another rematch this time. Instead, he stood there, frozen in thought.
Has he given up? Sarah sighed in relief. It was probably time for him to accept defeat. The Blackbird simply couldn’t compete with her Shadow Hawk. Perhaps she should encourage him to return to basics.
But just as she was about to speak, YC sent another match request.
He still hadn’t given up? It was pointless! You should understand the gap between us! she thought, but her hands moved faster than her mind, and before she knew it, she’d already accepted.
“Oh well, one more round won’t hurt,” Sarah muttered with a self-deprecating smile.
Ash, laser-focused, stared at the ground between his Blackbird and the Shadow Hawk, replaying the footage from Rune over and over in his mind. His tense, forward-leaning posture betrayed his anticipation.
In an unconcerned tone, Rune’s voice drifted through, “The name of this evasive maneuver is ‘Random Wave Jumps.’ Its essence lies in the word ‘random.’” Rune then fell silent, offering no more explanation.
Ash could only grit his teeth in frustration. He had no choice but to wrack his brain, pondering what “random” could truly mean.
Random… random… Ash muttered under his breath.
But time was not on his side. Before he could grasp the full meaning, Sarah had already accepted his challenge.
Ash banished all distractions from his mind. Now wasn’t the time to think about “randomness” or not; his mind could only focus on that clip—the smoke-free, wave-like trajectory from before.
Through countless uses of the Blackbird, Ash had come to understand its performance parameters on a visceral level. Attempting to replicate that maneuver was no small feat. The Blackbird’s onboard computer couldn’t manage such complex calculations, which meant he’d have to rely entirely on himself.
The one thing that reassured Ash was his strength in manual controls—a skill he’d honed from hours of practice with Winnie, whose outdated AI was even worse than the Blackbird’s.
Ash took a deep, long breath, each inhale like the pull of a bellows.
Beep! In an instant, his hand moved, and the Blackbird shot forward like an arrow, following a curved path rather than a straight line.
Simultaneously, the ground where Ash had just stood was blasted into a crater by his opponent.
Ash didn’t dare look away; his eyes were fixed on the ground between them. His entire being felt ablaze, mind both heated and blank as his hands performed rapid maneuvers, faster than he thought possible, with no pause.
The Blackbird maintained its top speed.
Ash’s hands moved faster and faster, leaving faint trails, as if they were wrapped in an ethereal mist of motion.
Entirely focused, Ash missed these details.
Sarah continued her routine: aiming and firing, though her shot missed. Nothing new there. YC had managed to dodge a few times before, only to lose in the end.
But gradually, Sarah began to sense something different.