“Walk like this—remember, an ?S-shape?.” Schneider demonstrated a textbook S-shaped evasion maneuver, then said, “Go on, try it.”

  “Okay.” Latham replied curtly. Without any manual input from him, the training mech flawlessly traced Schneider’s earlier path.

  “Done? If there’s nothing new, I’m logging off.” Latham said casually.

  Staying inside the mech was tedious, especially without control. He couldn’t even touch the sensory interface—any interference would crash the system instantly.

  Latham wanted to end the session, but Schneider, on the other hand, was addicted to teaching.

  With three years in the training camp, Schneider was a veteran. Yet, in the intermediate zone, everyone was seasoned—except Latham, the only one who’d never touched a mech before reaching ?Level 6 psychic energy?.

  Though Schneider was a rookie instructor, even he knew he’d stumbled upon a genius.

  Every textbook move he demonstrated, Latham replicated perfectly after one glance. This surreal skill shattered Schneider’s confidence. For a moment, he wondered if he was the incompetent one.

  Most first-timers struggled to stand or take a few steps. But Schneider, driven mad, kept escalating the difficulty.

  As a mech fanatic, he’d spent years mastering 108 basic stances—grueling effort that propelled him to become the camp’s fastest-rising star. Today, that title no longer belonged to him.

  “108… All 108 basic stances. Done.” Schneider’s eyes burned. He was losing it. Mastering everything in four hours? He didn’t know whether to feel lucky or cursed.

  “Done?”

  “Yes. Basics are done.”

  “Can I leave now?”

  “Leave? ?No!?” Schneider snapped.

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  “Hmm…” Latham shrugged. Hanging with Schneider boosted his social cred, so he didn’t mind staying—though watching the instructor bounce around was getting dull.

  “Alright! You’ve passed all basics. Next… Next is—” Schneider paused, dizzy, then checked the manual. “Combo stances.”

  “Got it.” Latham asked, “How many combos?”

  “2,436 Level 1, 1,864 Level 2, 1,100 Level 3—”

  “Wait!” Latham interrupted. “You’re saying thousands?”

  “Yep. Over 10,000 combos from Level 1 to 10. Master them all, and you’ll crack the global top 10k.”

  “10,000?” Latham grimaced. “You expect me to learn all that today?”

  “If possible, yes.”

  Latham rolled his eyes. The 108 basics took four hours—10k combos would trap him here forever.

  A question struck him: “Schneider, how many have you mastered?”

  “Me?” Schneider puffed his chest. “In three years since reaching the intermediate zone, I’ve nailed 60% of Levels 1-5.”

  “Only 60% in three years? Why not all 10k?”

  Schneider gaped. If any other student asked that, he’d have kicked them. But Latham’s terrifying progress stopped him. Even if Schneider won today, this freak would surpass him soon. The thought of such a monster lingering nearby kept him in check.

  In the camp’s main hall, two observers had monitored the training room for hours. Both accessed Schneider and Latham’s public records.

  Schneider, 28, had 15 years of mech training—starting at age 13 when his psychic energy hit Level 3. His stellar record hinted at future ace pilot potential.

  Latham’s file was horrifying:

  ?Age: 18. Mech Experience: 0.?

  Unless falsified, no one would leave that field blank.

  From the moment Latham “accidentally” crushed Schneider in the sim, one observer had locked onto him. After four hours of flawless performance, the observer summoned a colleague. Together, they watched—and linked to the outside world via ?Skynet?.