Congratulations!

You have advanced from Novice to Apprentice level in Materials Science, and new materials are now available for your designs.

Next Step: To continue your progression, you must locate a Master to guide your development.

The message lingered for a moment before fading, leaving Kovacs staring at the blank screen. His mind churned with possibilities, a mixture of pride and unease settling in his chest. The jump from novice to apprentice wasn’t just a title—it was a tangible recognition of his growing expertise. But it came with implications that weighed heavily on him.

His gaze shifted to the cluttered workstation. Models and prototypes of his designs were scattered across the surface, each a testament to countless hours of effort and incremental improvements. The new materials promised by the system offered transformative potential, but Kovacs knew better than to let optimism cloud reality. Every advancement came with new challenges.

He stood, stretching his legs, and walked to the window of his workshop. Outside, the battered world of Prescott stretched before him. The aftermath of war was still evident—scarred buildings, improvised repair yards, and the steady hum of reconstruction efforts. He could hear the distant clatter of mechs moving supplies, each step a reminder of the machines he had built—machines that had kept people alive and failed others.

The weight of his responsibility pressed down on him. Kovacs hadn’t set out to become a designer of war machines, but the reality of Prescott had shaped his path. His creations weren’t just blueprints or systems; they were lifelines for people fighting to reclaim their homes.

But now, this message. Locate a Master.

Who could it be? Where would he even start? Kovacs had always relied on his own ingenuity and the fragmented resources around him. Prescott’s libraries, long since pillaged by war, offered little in the way of advanced knowledge. And the engineers and technicians he worked alongside—competent though they were—operated more on necessity than innovation.

He thought of General Patton’s relentless push for better designs and the subtle praise he’d received for the Pershing. “You’ve done well, Kovacs,” Patton had said. But even the General’s approval felt hollow now. Kovacs couldn’t shake the nagging sense that he’d hit a ceiling, that without guidance, he was merely treading water in a rising tide of expectations.

His fingers tapped against the workstation’s edge as he paced. The term Master felt both archaic and profound. It wasn’t just about skill—it implied wisdom, a depth of knowledge that couldn’t be learned through trial and error alone. Someone who had already walked this path, who could guide him where no manual or tutorial could.

Kovacs returned to his seat and pulled up the system’s interface. The new materials menu was overwhelming. High-performance alloys, advanced polymers, and experimental composites scrolled across the screen, each more tantalizing than the last. He selected one at random—a lightweight titanium-ceramic hybrid. The description detailed its unmatched tensile strength and heat resistance. Perfect for high-stress components, the system noted.

“Perfect,” he muttered, leaning forward. The Pershing’s stabilizer flashed in his mind again, a ghost of his earlier failure. These materials could have prevented it. But even as he bookmarked the hybrid for later use, a question gnawed at him: Would he even know how to use it properly?

Frustration welled up. Kovacs prided himself on problem-solving and pushing through challenges with sheer determination. But this was different. Materials Science wasn’t just about formulas or simulations—it was about understanding the fundamental properties of matter, about knowing how to manipulate them to achieve results beyond intuition.

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called.

Jackie Stewart stepped inside, her uniform marked with the grime of fieldwork. She offered a tired smile, but her eyes held curiosity. “You’ve been in here for hours,” she said, nodding toward the workstation. “Something big?”

Kovacs hesitated, then gestured for her to sit. “The system upgraded me,” he said, the words tumbling out faster than he intended. “Apprentice level. Materials Science. And now it wants me to find a Master.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair she’d claimed. “A Master? Like a mentor?”

“Exactly,” he replied, exhaling sharply. “I need someone who can teach me what I don’t know. But Prescott isn’t exactly overflowing with experts in advanced materials.”

Jackie tilted her head thoughtfully. “What about the CID? They’ve got people scattered across the sector. Scientists, engineers, researchers. Maybe one of them could help?”

The CID. Kovacs had considered them before, but the idea of working directly with their enigmatic organization left him uneasy. They always seemed to have ulterior motives, and he wasn’t eager to become another cog in their machine. Still, Jackie’s suggestion had merit.

“I’ll look into it,” he said finally. “But it’s not just about finding someone who knows their stuff. I need someone who gets it—why this matters, why it’s more than just equations on a screen.”

Jackie nodded, her expression softening. “You’ll find them, Kovacs. You always do.”

After she left, Kovacs returned to the interface, the lingering doubt slowly giving way to resolve. Somewhere out there was someone who could help him push his designs to the next level. He just had to find them.

His gaze fell on the schematic for the Pershing, still open on the monitor. This wasn’t the journey's end—it was just the beginning. With renewed determination, he began drafting a list of questions, specifications, and potential improvements. When he found his Master, he wanted to be ready.

Ready to learn. Ready to grow. Ready to create machines that would not only survive but redefine the battlefield.

And perhaps, along the way, ready to discover what kind of Mech Smith he truly wanted to be.

***

Jackie Stewart crouched behind the jagged remains of a building wall, her Goblin’s sensors sweeping the battlefield ahead. The acrid smell of scorched metal and burning fuel hung in the air, mingling with the distant shouts of infantry advancing behind her squad. The enemy encampment sprawled before them, a patchwork of fortified bunkers and hastily erected barricades. Beyond, she could see the enemy’s mechs—larger, heavier models—struggling to mobilize under the relentless assault of her Goblins.

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“Squad, hold position,” Jackie ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos crackling through her comms. “Prioritize targets. Keep them pinned down.”

From her elevated position, she had a clear view of the battlefield. The enemy’s mechs were powerful, but their designs weren’t suited for this kind of engagement. Heavy armor made them sluggish, and their weapons, optimized for close-range devastation, struggled to respond to the nimble Goblins darting around the edges of their range.

Jackie’s squad excelled in this environment. Jace Harland’s Goblin, positioned to her right, had already taken out two enemy mechs with precision strikes to exposed joints. Rina Torres flanked from the left, her Goblin using the ruins for cover as she peppered the enemy with suppressive fire. Quinn Lorne’s mech stood in the open, its silhouette barely visible through the haze as it unleashed a steady barrage of firepower, drawing the enemy’s attention away from the others.

“Rina, shift left. There’s an exposed turret near the bunker. Take it out,” Jackie commanded. Her HUD lit up with acknowledgments as Rina adjusted her position, her mech weaving effortlessly through the wreckage. A few seconds later, a bright plume of fire erupted from the bunker as the turret exploded.

Jackie’s fingers tightened on the controls as she tracked the largest enemy mech—a heavily armored Goliath-class unit. Its massive frame loomed over the battlefield, its dual cannons firing wildly in an attempt to hit the agile Goblins. Each step it took sent tremors through the ground, but it was already riddled with damage. One leg dragged, its servos screaming in protest, and smoke poured from a gaping hole in its torso.

“This one’s mine,” Jackie muttered, lining up her shot. She aimed for the exposed reactor housing on the Goliath’s side, a weak point she’d learned to exploit during countless simulations. Her Goblin’s medium laser cut through the air, striking true. The Goliath shuddered, its cannons firing one last, defiant volley before the reactor detonated in a blinding explosion.

“Target neutralized,” Jackie reported, satisfaction lacing her tone. She glanced at her squad’s status indicators. All green. They’d taken out another critical piece of the enemy’s defenses without a single loss.

The comms crackled with static before a voice came through. “This is Captain Davis. Enemy forces are retreating. All squads, push forward and secure the encampment.”

Jackie’s heart raced as she relayed the order to her squad. “You heard the Captain. Let’s finish this.”

The Goblins surged forward, their compact frames zigzagging through the battlefield as they closed in on the enemy’s final line of defense. Jackie’s sensors picked up frantic comm chatter from the enemy mechs as they tried to regroup, but it was too late. The Goblins’ superior range and maneuverability made it impossible for the larger mechs to mount an effective counterattack.

Jackie’s squad coordinated their fire, targeting the last remaining mechs with precision. The enemy units fell one by one, their pilots ejecting when it became clear the battle was lost. By the time they reached the encampment’s perimeter, resistance had all but crumbled.

As the dust began to settle, Jackie dismounted from her Goblin, her boots crunching against the debris-strewn ground. Her squad joined her, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. They had done it. The enemy encampment was theirs.

Jackie scanned the battlefield, her eyes lingering on the wreckage of the enemy mechs. Once, these machines had seemed unstoppable—symbols of the enemy’s dominance. Now, they lay broken, scattered like discarded toys. The Goblins had proven their worth, and Jackie felt a surge of pride for her squad and the engineers who had made it possible.

Her comms buzzed with an incoming transmission. It was Captain Davis. “Good work, Sergeant Stewart. The enemy’s falling back across the front. This war is almost over.”

Jackie nodded, though the weight of the words didn’t fully sink in. The war was ending, but at what cost? She looked at her squad, at the young faces of Jace, Rina, and Quinn. They had grown into skilled pilots, but the scars of battle—both physical and emotional—would remain.

As she turned back to her Goblin, a faint smile tugged at her lips. The Goblins had been underestimated, written off as too small, too light, too simple. But they had turned the tide of this war. And Jackie allowed herself to hope for the first time in a long time.

“Let’s move out,” she said, her voice firm. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

The squad climbed back into their mechs, their Goblins rising once more to stand vigilant. Jackie took one last look at the battlefield before turning toward the horizon. The war was ending, but the fight for a better future had only just begun.

***

General Emil Patton sat in his dimly lit bunker, the hum of the holo displays filling the silence as they projected live feeds of the battlefield. Smoke rose in curling plumes on every screen, the remnants of enemy mechs scattered across the scarred terrain. Goblins darted through the wreckage like wolves among fallen prey, ruthlessly dismantling the last vestiges of resistance.

The stiff leather creaking beneath his weight, Patton leaned back in his chair. He took a slow drag from the cigar clenched between his fingers, the embers glowing faintly in the low light. The sharp scent of smoke mixed with the stale air of the bunker, an odd comfort after years of war.

“Sir,” his aide said softly, stepping into the room. “Reports from the field indicate total collapse of enemy forces. Their command structure is in shambles. It’s over.”

Patton didn’t respond immediately. His eyes remained fixed on one of the larger monitors, where a squad of Goblins methodically dismantled a Goliath-class mech. Once a symbol of their dominance, the enemy machine was now little more than scrap.

“It’s never over,” Patton said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “Not really.”

The aide hesitated. “Shall I draft the victory announcement, sir?”

Patton waved a hand, dismissing the suggestion for now. “Let them finish the job first. I’ll make the speech when the smoke clears.”

The aide nodded and retreated, leaving Patton alone once more. He set the cigar down in a makeshift ashtray, the glow dimming as it rested against the metal. His fingers drummed against the table, a rare sign of unease. Victory was in hand, but he couldn’t shake the hollow weight settling in his chest.

He glanced to the corner of the room where a weathered holo-map of Prescott hung. It was dotted with markers indicating battles fought and won, each one a testament to the lives spent and the blood spilled. This planet had cost them dearly, but it had also proven something fundamental: even in desperation, humans could outthink and outfight their enemies.

His gaze shifted to a smaller display, where he could see Kovacs’ Goblins darting across the battlefield. The boy’s creations had been a gamble, a risky bet on unproven technology. But they’d paid off. They’d done more than that—they’d turned the tide of the war. Patton had pressed Kovacs hard, demanded more than was reasonable, and the kid had delivered every time.

A faint smile touched his lips, though it was more grim than pleased. “The kid’s got promise,” he muttered. “If we don’t grind him down first.”

The bunker door hissed open again, and this time, a junior officer entered, saluting sharply. “Sir, enemy forces are surrendering en masse. Forward units are requesting instructions.”

Patton rose slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow across the room. “Tell them to hold position. No more needless killing. Secure the prisoners and sweep the area for intel.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officer left, Patton walked to the edge of the room where a narrow viewport offered a glimpse of the outside world. From here, he could see the smoke rising in the distance, the faint glow of burning fires. The war was ending, but the cost was plain to see.

He took a deep breath, letting the moment's heaviness settle over him. There was work to be done—there always was—but he allowed himself a moment of stillness for now.

War never changes, he thought again. But the words felt less like resignation and more like a warning this time.

Reaching for his cigar, he lit it again, the familiar taste grounding him. The screens flickered behind him, and the hum of the holo-displays continued. The Goblins and their pilots would finish the fight, but it was up to men like him to decide what came next.

As Patton stared out into the smoldering horizon, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were ready for the peace that was to come.