Chapter 46 - Root Beer Encounter

When I was in the arena, time seemed to stretch endlessly. Each moment felt like an eternity as I reacted to my opponent’s every move. But now, as a spectator, it’s the opposite—everything rushes past in a blur, like flipping through the pages of a book too quickly. Watching my friends Fei Xian and Neil Orbeus take the stage, the action feels relentless, almost overwhelming.

The third-year opponent looms over them in a sleek white-and-yellow Frame Unit, armed with shoulder-mounted beam cannons and menacing clawed shields gripped tightly in each hand. The air hums with the tension of high-energy weapons charging, the crackle of the arena’s protective barriers resonating faintly in the background.

“Divine Fist, Activate!” Neil’s voice cuts through the chaos as he taps the glowing [Ultimate] option on his holographic HUD. His outstretched hand ignites with radiant energy, the glow brightening until it pulses like a miniature star. He points at Fei, and the energy flows into her Frame Unit.

Fei’s orange mech comes alive with roaring flames, her fists glowing like molten steel fresh from the forge. She casts aside her light shield and beam rifle, her frame shifting into a poised mecha-karate stance, each movement deliberate and sharp.

“Let’s do this, Neil!” she shouts, her voice crackling over the comms. Her confidence is electrifying. With a powerful push, her thrusters flare, sending her hurtling forward. The arena floor blurs beneath her as she closes the distance, beams of searing light lancing toward her from the opponent’s cannons.

The beams streak past, grazing her Frame Unit’s armored plates, but Fei doesn’t falter. Her Divine Fist punches through the barrage, the flames burning brighter with every step. The moment she’s within striking range, the opponent’s beam cannons fold backward, retreating into their storage position as the clawed shields rise, glinting dangerously under the arena lights.

“You’ll never win at close range!” the opposing WAIFU bellows, her synthetic voice amplified and harsh. The clawed shields slash forward in rapid arcs, each swing leaving trails of sparks in the air.

But Fei is faster. Her movements are a blur of precision, dodging each slash with a dancer’s grace and a warrior’s focus. Left, right, duck, sidestep—her Frame Unit’s thrusters fire in perfect synchronicity with her reflexes.

Then she counters. With a roar, she slams her blazing Divine Fist into the enemy’s metallic head. The flames lick hungrily at the armor, melting it partially on impact. The force of the blow is unstoppable; the head of the opponent’s Frame Unit snaps clean off, tumbling to the ground with a deafening clang.

The defeated Frame Unit crumpled to its knees, its systems flickering off as it bowed under its own weight. A hollow clang echoed through the arena, marking the end of the battle.

“The winner for this match is Examinee Number 12!” Dianca’s voice rang out, amplified by the arena’s speakers. The crowd erupted into cheers, their applause rippling like a wave across the stands.

Fei and Neil’s victory was undeniable, their teamwork leaving a mark not just on their opponent, but on everyone watching. It was a few moments before they returned to the waiting lounge, their footsteps light despite the exertion of the fight.

The warmth of camaraderie filled the room as Myrrh and Cindy rushed to embrace Fei, their excitement bubbling over in laughter and congratulations. Remuel approached Neil with an easy grin, offering a fist bump. I stood by, feeling the unspoken obligation to welcome them back with the same enthusiasm they’d shown me after my own match.

“Congratulations on winning the match,” I said, meeting Neil’s knuckles with my own in a firm but friendly bump.

“Thanks,” Neil replied, his voice steady but laced with determination. “You too. Four more fights to go.”

“I just hope we don’t end up fighting each other,” Remuel added, his tone lighter, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.

We fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, the tension of the arena momentarily replaced by the relaxed chatter of friends. But the moment was short-lived. The television in the lounge crackled to life, drawing everyone’s attention as the emcee’s energetic voice boomed through the speakers.

“Next match will be Examinee 13 versus Examinee 75!” shouted Emcee Miles, his excitement palpable even through the screen.

Remuel froze for a second, then muttered, “Oh shit, it’s our turn now.” His words were hurried as he grabbed Cindy by the shoulder, steering her toward the exit.

Cindy’s usual confidence flickered into something sharper, her gaze locking onto Remuel’s. “Don’t screw this up,” she said with a grin that was equal parts encouragement and challenge.

“Go get ’em, tiger.” Neil said with a grin, punctuating his encouragement with a playful slap on Remuel’s butt.

Remuel shot Neil a knowing smile, the tension of the impending match momentarily lightened by the gesture. He turned to Cindy, who was already waiting with her arms crossed, her confident stance a stark contrast to the nervous energy in the room.

Together, Cindy and Remuel strode into the corridor, their footsteps echoing down the metallic hallway as the rest of us lingered in the lounge.

I glanced at Neil, who seemed relaxed as ever, then shifted my attention to Myrrh. She was deep in conversation with Fei, who looked noticeably drained. Fei’s orange Frame Unit might have been a blazing inferno in the arena, but here in the waiting lounge, she was the picture of exhaustion. Sweat glistened on her brow, her cheeks flushed from the intense fight.

“Phew,” Fei exhaled, running a hand through her short black hair, now damp with sweat. “That earlier fight took everything out of me. Using my Ultimate this early in the examinations puts me at a major disadvantage for the next matches.”

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“Don’t worry about it, Fei,” Myrrh said, her voice warm and reassuring. She offered Fei one of her signature smiles, bright enough to cut through the tension. “You faced a third-year, so it’s understandable. Who knows? Maybe you can Divine Fist every opponent all the way to the fifth match!”

Fei chuckled weakly, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I hope so,” she said, though her tone wavered. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, but the sweat still beaded on her skin.

Neil, ever attentive, stepped to her side and held out a neatly folded handkerchief. “Here,” he said simply.

“Thanks!” Fei’s cheeks tinted a soft pink as she took the handkerchief, giggling shyly as she dabbed at her forehead.

Watching the scene unfold, I felt a small pang of responsibility. They deserved a little more than just congratulations for their victory. Raising my hand, I broke the moment with a suggestion. “Hey, you guys want a drink? I’m heading to the vending machine.”

“Oh, great! Oolong jasmine tea for me!” Myrrh chimed in, raising her hand as though she were in a classroom. Her blonde-green hair bounced as she leaned forward eagerly.

“Can you grab me a cola? I’ll just pay you later, if that's okay with you,” Fei added, her voice carrying a touch of gratitude as she flashed me a tired smile.

“Hey Zaft! Give me an energy drink,” Neil called out as I headed for the door.

“Okay, order received,” I replied with a quick wave, leaving the lounge behind.

The corridor buzzed with activity as I walked, my footsteps soft against the polished floor. WAIFU and support examinees dotted the area, some deep in last-minute preparations, others standing by their partners, their expressions a mix of nervousness and determination. The metallic hum of the building mixed with the distant roar of the crowd and the occasional announcement from the loudspeakers, creating a constant undercurrent of sound.

Judging by the number of examinees left, we’d likely be here until six in the evening, maybe later. The thought crossed my mind to pick up some packed lunches for Myrrh and myself—anything to avoid enduring hunger pangs halfway through this marathon of matches.

Eventually, I reached the vending machine and began collecting the drinks: a bottle of oolong jasmine tea, cola, an energy drink, and a root beer for myself. Balancing all four bottles against my chest, I immediately regretted not grabbing a recyclable or plastic bag back at the lounge. Hugging the bottles awkwardly, I stooped to pick up the last one, almost losing my grip in the process.

As I straightened up, a flash of silver caught my eye. A girl was approaching, her long wavy silver hair shimmering under the corridor lights. Her golden eyes practically glowed, sharp and captivating, like they held a thousand untold stories. Her beauty struck me instantly—she was effortlessly stunning, on the same level as Dianca Fritz or maybe even Myrrh.

But it wasn’t just her looks that turned heads; it was the way she carried herself. She walked with a deliberate elegance, her hips swaying with a subtle rhythm, her posture confident and self-assured. There was a sassiness to her movements that suggested she was fully aware of the attention she commanded. The red armband on her sleeve marked her as a third-year, a tier above me in more ways than one.

I may not have much experience with relationships—okay, let’s call it what it is, zero—but even I knew this girl radiated “girlfriend material.” The kind of person who could make someone feel both awestruck and utterly unworthy with a single glance.

Unable to resist, my eyes followed her as she stopped in front of the vending machine. She slipped a coin into the slot with practiced ease, her fingers lingering momentarily on the buttons before she pressed one: root beer.

The vending machine responded with a shrill red warning light and an obnoxious buzzer sound.

Her golden eyes narrowed at the machine as though it had personally insulted her. She huffed softly, brushing a strand of silver hair over her shoulder, and jabbed the button again.

Nothing.

I stood there, clutching my collection of drinks and watching her battle the machine. For someone so composed and poised, this minor hiccup felt strangely humanizing. Should I step in? Or would that come across as weird?

[Root Beer is out of stock.]

“Awww…” The silver-haired beauty whimpered softly, her voice carrying an almost childlike disappointment. She pouted, her lips forming a delicate curve, and for a moment, she looked less like the poised upperclassman I’d imagined and more like a sulking puppy. “I really wanted that root beer…”

“Um, excuse me.”

My words caught her attention immediately. She turned, her golden eyes locking onto mine with a piercing gaze. Her composed expression held a chill, but something about her still radiated undeniable charm. Cute, even. Maybe on par with Fei Xian, though Fei had her own unique energy.

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

I swallowed, trying not to look too awkward while balancing my stash of drinks. “If you want, you can take this root beer.”

Her expression brightened in an instant. “Really?” she said, her voice lifting with excitement.

“Yeah.”

“Really really?” she asked again, her silver hair bouncing as she hopped slightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied, a little bemused.

“Thanks!” Her face lit up with the kind of radiant smile that could probably end wars. She plucked the root beer from my arms with a delicate touch. Then, with a playful smirk, she added, “I’ll remember this, mister street thug!”

And with that, she turned on her heel, skipping away with a lightness that belied her earlier disappointment.

I let out a long sigh, my arms now one drink lighter. “Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Tried to be a gentleman, and all I got was a sugar-coated thanks with an insult filling.”

The vending machine hummed in idle readiness. I glanced at it, debating whether I should indulge my curiosity. With Myrrh’s oolong jasmine tea already on my shopping list, I pressed the button. The machine whirred, and a bottle clunked into the tray.

I picked it up, giving the label a skeptical look. “Weird iced teas aren’t my thing,” I murmured, “but if Myrrh likes it, it must be good. We usually have the same taste in food.”

Drinks in hand, I made my way back to the lounge. The moment I stepped inside, I froze. Myrrh, Fei, and Neil were huddled together, their expressions wide-eyed and slack-jawed, their focus entirely on the large television screen mounted on the wall.

“What’s going on?” I asked, but their silence only deepened the knot forming in my stomach.

I turned to the screen, and my breath caught.

There, on the live broadcast, Cindy’s Frame Unit stood battered and sparking, its armor shredded and its systems teetering on the brink of failure. Smoke billowed from its joints, and its movements were sluggish as it staggered, clearly moments from collapse.

Her voice crackled through the speakers, filled with raw defiance. “If I cannot advance in this round, neither will you!” Cindy roared, her words carrying both fury and determination.

In the corner of the screen, Remuel’s face appeared, his expression pale and stricken. “B-but!” he stammered, tears brimming in his eyes.

“Do it!” Cindy shouted, her voice resolute.

Remuel hesitated only a moment longer before tapping the [Ultimate] option on his WEEB System. His trembling hand glowed as he pointed it toward Cindy’s WAIFU. “Self-Destruct, Activate!”

The screen flared white as the explosion tore through the arena, a deafening roar shaking the room even through the broadcast. The sound of my friends’ collective gasps filled the silence that followed.

I stood there, the drinks in my arms forgotten, staring at the screen as the brilliance of the explosion slowly faded.

“Did she just…?” Myrrh’s voice trailed off, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. She just have to blow it up." I replied.