The transport shuttle rattled violently as it descended through the smog layer of Mega-City 9, its inertial dampeners whining with a high-pitched frequency. To the other eighty logistics cadets crammed into the dimly lit cargo bay, it was just terrifying turbulence. To Chen Xi, it was a diagnostic report.
Closing his eyes, he listened to the vibration. The starboard stabilizer coil is three degrees out of alignment, causing uneven plasma distribution in the secondary thruster, he deduced, mentally stripping the engine down to its base components.
Knowledge is the only true armor. The Origin Forge and his Dual-Class were miracles, but Chen Xi knew better than to treat them as crutches. Sylphe had made it brutally clear: the Origin Forge did not pull complex machinery out of thin air. It required the host to possess a flawless, mathematical understanding of the blueprint. If Chen Xi didn't know the exact shear strength of high-carbon steel, the thermal dynamics of a plasma vent, or the biomechanical load-bearing limits of artificial joints, his Kinetic Qi wouldn't shape the metal—it would just detonate it.
His power was a multiplier. The foundation was the thousands of hours he had spent in the slums, obsessively memorizing Old Era schematics and reverse-engineering broken tech until his fingers bled.
He opened his eyes and looked down at the standard-issue repair kit the Academy had assigned him. He pulled out the multi-tool arc-welder. A quick, practiced glance revealed a microscopic misalignment in the focusing lens.
He didn't use his Qi to magically fix it. He didn't want to waste a single drop of energy. Instead, he pulled a micro-screwdriver from his pocket. With surgical precision, he spent the next ten minutes of the bumpy ride manually recalibrating the emitter coil, adjusting the focal point by fractions of a millimeter until the energy flow was perfectly optimized.
"Flawless manual calibration," Sylphe’s voice murmured in his mind, carrying a tone of genuine, quiet respect. "Most humans rely entirely on their System interface to guide their hands. You actually understand the physics of what you are holding. It makes my processing load significantly lighter, Chen Xi."
Mechanics who rely only on the System die when the System glitches, Chen Xi replied mentally, sliding the perfected welder back into his kit.
The shuttle hit the ground with a heavy thud. The ramp lowered, revealing Sector G—a sprawling, artificial urban ruin designed to simulate a bombed-out colony city. The sky above was blocked by a massive, reinforced steel dome.
"Listen up, wrench-monkeys!" the lead instructor barked through the comms. "Your objective is simple. Sector G has fifty offline comm-terminals scattered throughout the ruins. Find them, diagnose the hardware failures, and repair them. You will be graded on speed and efficiency. The training mechs patrolling the area are set to 'Stun and Suppress.' If you get shot, your armor locks up, and you fail. Move out!" Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
The cadets scrambled out of the shuttle, scattering into the concrete labyrinth.
Chen Xi checked his bronze wristband. The Academy’s local network had assigned him to Sub-Sector 4, a dense cluster of collapsed high-rises on the eastern edge.
He moved efficiently, keeping his head down and his footsteps light. As he crossed the threshold into Sub-Sector 4, a heavy pair of blast doors slammed shut behind him, locking with a definitive, heavy clank.
The hairs on the back of Chen Xi's neck stood up.
"Chen Xi," Sylphe’s voice dropped its usual playful cadence, snapping into cold, analytical overdrive. "I am detecting an anomaly in the local network grid. The administrative overrides for this specific Sub-Sector have been manually isolated from the main Academy server."
Chen Xi immediately pressed his back against a crumbling concrete pillar, sinking into the shadows. Isolated? Who has that kind of clearance?
"Someone with enough credits to bribe the proctors," Sylphe replied.
High above Sector G, in the climate-controlled observation deck, Zhao Ming stood beside a junior instructor. The Ironfang heir watched the monitor displaying Sub-Sector 4, a cruel, vindictive smile twisting his face as he transferred a massive sum of credits via an untraceable encrypted stick.
"Are the safety inhibitors completely disabled?" Zhao Ming asked.
"Yes, Young Master Zhao," the corrupt instructor sweated, glancing nervously at the door. "The three Mark-II Sentinel Mechs in that zone have been switched from 'Stun' to 'Lethal Combat' protocols. The live ammunition feeds are active. If they spot the cadet, they will designate him as an enemy combatant."
Down in the ruins, Chen Xi held his breath. The rhythmic, ground-shaking thud of heavy metallic footsteps approached from the street ahead.
He carefully peeked around the pillar. Stalking down the ruined avenue was a Mark-II Sentinel Mech. It was a bipedal, heavily armored platform armed with twin rotary chainguns. But what made Chen Xi’s blood turn to ice was the optic sensor on the mech's 'head'.
Training mechs glowed pale blue.
This one was glowing a deep, murderous crimson.
"Live fire mode," Sylphe confirmed. "If it acquires a lock, it will fire eight hundred rounds of armor-piercing depleted uranium per minute. Your current alloy-weave bodily refinement cannot withstand that level of kinetic trauma."
Chen Xi didn't panic. Panic was inefficient. His mind instantly brought up the schematics for the Mark-II Sentinel—a legacy model he had studied extensively.
It has heavy frontal armor, but the rotational servo-motors in the knee joints are exposed by a margin of four centimeters when it takes a step. The primary optic sensor has a refresh rate of point-zero-two seconds. There's a blind spot directly above it.
Chen Xi slowly reached into his jacket. From the padding near his collarbone, Wraith—the biomimetic spider drone he had painstakingly built the night before—crawled down his arm and rested in his palm.
I can't fight it directly without exposing my martial arts and drawing the Academy's attention, Chen Xi thought, his eyes locked on the patrolling mechanical behemoth. But I don't have to fight it. I just have to break it.
"Sylphe," Chen Xi whispered, his voice dangerously calm. "Sync Wraith's optical camouflage to the mech's sensor refresh rate. We're going to perform a little aggressive maintenance."