He couldn’t take it seriously.

The limited joints of his chassis were literally fighting against him as Ben tried to approximate the moves of [ Eagle Step ]. It was a very wide stance, one that taunted his enemy into attacking.

In exchange for the very vulnerable and open stance, it allowed him to curve and move in violent motions. It made him look stupid, admittedly. He was 90 percent sure that this art was never meant to be done with a mech.

“Just shoot, I’m ready now.” Ben shouted.

A loud sigh crackled from the other side of the line, then Cael’s mech picked up his rifle. Crouching low, he fixed himself at half body height, the muzzle of the steel gray gun settling on Ben’s chest.

Ben let his breath out in a measured exhale. He put away his shield so he could have both arms free to perform the movements. [ Eagle Step ] was a passionate dance, something he wasn’t really sure his stiff body could handle.

It was a light technique that focused on moving fast and being evasive, at the loss of the opportunity to attack. Using his arms as counterweights, sharp turns would be easy to manage at a moment’s notice.

Ben stared at the small black pinprick in the distance, leveling his head with the barrel.

Crack!

His eyes narrowed. The new muscle-memory in his right arm swung forward, turning the chest of his chassis. A searing heat passed his left pectoral area, leaving it feeling mildly tender. Ben blinked; it felt surprisingly natural, as if he could do more.

Advancing forward, Ben was met with glancing shots that carved rents in the sides of his armor plating. He began to test out more of it, trying the clockwise turns that the lady had done in his vision.

It was truly a ballsy dance, he had to give the faceless performer credit. The pointless waves were there to portray a larger “false” image by purposely exposing his non-essential body parts.

Ben eased out a focused breath, trying to ignore the mounting pain. His forearms and hips got clipped, admittedly, but those joint areas were easier to maneuver and reduce the damage of than his torso.

Dark, intruding thoughts distracted him as he advanced. The way that this would scar a human body… it was obvious why the figure was completely clad from head to toe. It was barbaric. He got the impression that only the best and devout could trust themselves or their god to do this.

Ben still felt he wasn’t moving as elegantly as possible, but it was enough.

30 feet. He slowly closed the distance until he was within spitting distance of Cael. Drawing his blade, he held it level at the neck of his partner.

The rifleman mecha dropped his weapon, his hands at each side in a mock-surrender. The piercing crackle of static popped into his cabin.

“Hold on- Where did all of this come from? Are you a pointe ballerina or something?!”

“I… took lessons.”

Though their faces weren’t visible, skepticism was present. An audible sigh left the speaker.

“What did I get myself into… Sure. Why not.” Cael groaned.

“If you can do something like that, then you should’ve told me. Light mechs are probably more your thing then.”

“Light mechs?”

“Less armor, more powerful motors. Means that they are more of a dodger than a fighter, technically more of a skirmisher than a shield really.”

Ben thought for a second. It would be a good thing, probably, to use one. He could feel that he was pushing the metaphorical limits of the simulated joints of his mech, and it would do worse in real life where physics were not so forgiving.

“I can feel a ‘But’ in there.”

Cael continued “But only more experienced, and seasoned pilots use these. The skill needed to use these are not to be underestimated. I believe what I saw, but the problem isn’t you using one, it’s that you’ll be seen as an upstart.”

He blinked.

“Why would we care about how we fight? Isn’t winning what matters in the end?”

“Who do you think funds this academy, dude?”

Ben wracked his brain for a second. “The alumni? They’d be the rich ones, I mean maybe the Chirurgeon government could be doing it too.”

“Think bigger. Even though this is a low-level tourney in the grand scheme of things, big eyes are going to be watching. Imagine whole outfits and organizations. It isn’t just about the money, but the exposure.”

His eyes widened. He never thought about it like that.

Cael clicked his tongue. “It’s one thing for a pair of underdogs from Kilcade to make a showing with solid potential. It’s another for one to be using a light mech.”

“We gotta make it far in the tournament, or else we’ll be seen as pushovers that bark more than we can bite.”

Ah. That made sense.

“So you want me to go back to back to more of a normal shield style?”

A loud choking noise briefly shot out of the communicator before Cael responded.

“Are you kidding? I think I just saw the start of a boxing match the way you just pulled up on me. I’ve never seen that much control over a mech first hand in my life; we gotta try it.”

“You trust me?”

He snorted. “I stopped caring after the periodic table thing dude. You’re weird, but you’re pretty good at some stuff. Let’s go, I’m getting hungry.”

Cael’s mech froze, arms hanging low. The exterior slowly became replaced with a solid gray and the still shape of his surrender stood in stark contrast to the sterile background.

Ben slumped down, his mech crashing down onto the ground. His lungs… were tight. The blood flow in his body was going insane; his heart was beating hard enough where he could hear his eardrums knocking on his brain.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He wasn’t a stranger to hard labor though, that was the confusing part.

“System, what’s happening to me?” Ben gasped between mouthfuls of air.

[ User, your body is unattuned to the nature of your Skill, resulting in Aether backlash. ]

“What... the hell is Aether?”

[ …… ]

[ Restricted. ]

[ Quest ]

Quest: Prove Yourself

Prerequisites: Because we said so.

We tolerate you false believer. Only because of necessity. Defeat a worthy foe and show you will not shame us.

Ben groaned.

Of course the gang of divine schmucks that made this thing didn't like him.

“Then can I at least have some answers? Who was that lady that showed me that maneuver? And what was the deal with the old man?”

[ …… ]

[ A follower of the Latersi branch. She is dead. ]

Ben blankly stared at the text.

“What about the monk guy?”

[ The honorable Shikmus. They are gone. ]

Ben shook his head and opened his mech interface, logging out. Slowly, his vision of his surroundings started to blur and fade.

Those were certainly answers.

- - -

Ben rubbed his chin.

He wrote down the clues he had so far, and outlined them in his notebook.

There were Gods. With a capital ‘G’. Or some kind of advanced AI. There were a few that Ben saw evidence of:

Retterum. Latersi. And the Shikmus.

Gods. And a whole bunch of them if his system was to be believed.

When he tried to search up anything related to them though, there was nothing. That was surprising in itself, given the massive size of the intranet.

After skimming the 20th page of the search engine, Ben closed the application and sighed.

“Mr. Miyagi, you gonna eat that pie?”

Looking over the edge of his screen, Cael could be spotted reaching over Ben's plate.

“Get your own Cael, I waited 10 minutes for this.” Ben said, slapping his hand away.

Cael feigned a hurt expression, holding his left hand gingerly. “I thought we were friends!”

Ben considered his words. He was his friend, probably anyways. There weren't many people his age near the Murdock property so there weren't many friends to be had.

“Well, if you really do-”

“I'm fine, I'm fine. Just messing with you dude, don't worry about it.” Cael chuckled.

Ben glowered at him.

“You suck, you know that?”

Cael stood up and curtsied, bowing with his right arm behind him. “Why, most would call this being charming, sir.”

Ben watched the idiot and sighed, eating his mulberry slice. It was a deep purple, nice and tart.

By the taste, it was picked a bit early in the season but he preferred the sour-sweet flavor profile over the white variety.

It reminded him of their disastrous attempts to grow anything but ‘Stone Scraper Potatoes’.

Ben smirked; anything that grew in their soil, imported or otherwise just became unbearably sour, or just flat out died. The SSP’s sold well because they lacked flavor in the first place.

“So Ben, real talk. Where are you from?”

That came out of nowhere. Ben frowned.

“Same place as you, we got off that train together, remember?”

Cael tutted him with his left index finger. “That's misdirection Benny boy. I searched through the graduation records of the Kilcade registry for high schools that qualified for this scholarship.”

He continued. “And I didn't find you.”

Ben rubbed his temples.

“Fine, fine. You got me. I'm not from Kilcade ridge.”

Cael rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Finally, now spill the beans. Are you a hidden seed?!”

“A what now?”

He squinted at Cael’s shining eyes. This was not going how he thought it would.

“I knew it from the start; Triumvate costs metaphorically AND literally an arm and a leg to get into and unless you were endorsed by the facility itself or an actual mech outfit, it's impossible.”

How did he get in?

There was no way that Croix bought his way in, so Ben didn't even consider it.

A sponsorship on the other hand… it was hard to believe but it was the only real possibility.

He knew Croix his whole life, and they spoke until dark some days about wishful thoughts and fantasies.

Never about his past. Never about how a one man operation could afford a farm on his own. The hasty marriage with a despicable gambling addict.

And that look in his eye when he saw him last. It had a deepness that Ben had never seen before.

Ben's eyes widened. It was an unreal thought, but the dots were finally connecting.

Cael whispered “You're a secret candidate right? Those moves were not of a newbie, that's for sure.”

Ben shook his head. “I'm just a farmer Cael.”

Cael stared bug-eyed at him and a long moment stretched out between them.

“Nah. You're messing with me. I get it. Secrets. NDAs. Nasty stuff.”

“No really, I'm a potato farmer. Murdock Farm.”

Cael immediately switched back to his intranet connection, typing furiously.

A look of complete bewilderment took over his face.

“But how- Why would you even… Maybe…”

A grin filled out his cheeks.

“Say, did it seem like you got invited out of nowhere? A person spoke you? Real casual?”

“...Yes?”

Cael slapped his back. “Say no more. I'll keep my mouth shut.”

Now it was Ben's turn to be confused.

“What?”

“I guess you really are a country bumpkin huh?” Cael whispered, elbowing Ben.

He winked at him, making a thumbs-up.

Ben continued eating his pie. This was stupid.