Flashes of white light continually appeared in the void, each representing a revived or departing user.

  A shifty-eyed man suddenly entered through the main door and approached the two observers.

  “Gentlemen, we’ve completed your requested investigation.”

  “Why so slow? Couldn’t trace him?”

  “Oh, you jest. Only we at Millard could compile a full background check this quickly. But since you insisted on physical delivery instead of Skynet transmission, the delay was unavoidable—”

  One observer raised a hand to cut off the excuse. “The files?”

  The man produced two virtual Card magnetic strips. The observers inserted them into their multifunctional wristbands. Moments later, one said coldly, “Payment will be transferred.”

  “Thank you! We hope to serve you again.” A white flash engulfed the man as he logged off.

  “Card, your thoughts?”

  The man removed his sunglasses—revealing himself as Card—and answered slowly, “I think we’ve found a true genius.”

  “If this report’s accurate, the kid’s never touched a mech before. Skynet logs confirm this is his first time in the intermediate zone.”

  “Strange,” Card frowned. “He reached Level 5 psychic energy long ago. Why wait until now?”

  “Perhaps because he’s poor,” Harry smirked like a fox. “Eighteen years old, no income except parental allowance. Schneider paid his intermediate zone fees today.”

  The intermediate zone—nicknamed “Richman’s Playground”—cost 100 credits daily. For a broke teenager, it was unthinkable luxury.

  Card’s rugged face lit up. “We’ve struck gold.”

  “The CEO agrees. His orders: recruit the boy at any cost.”

  As they spoke, another figure entered. Harry grinned. “Look who’s here.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Larry? That old ghost!” Card chuckled. The two had been friends for decades.

  Harry whispered, “Remember the report? Latham’s taking human history electives at Millard Public College—”

  “Human history? Larry’s class?”

  “An opportunity.”

  “Indeed.” Card rose, beaming, as Larry approached.

  Meanwhile in the training room...

  “Watch—half-turn with a diagonal S-shaped acceleration. A basic Level 1 combo. Try it.”

  The towering mech pivoted smoothly, executing the S-maneuver.

  “Seems simple enough,” Latham remarked. Though the AI handled the controls, the movements appeared effortless.

  Schneider bit his lip. Nothing about Latham shocked him anymore, though he recalled spending two years mastering basic stances before attempting combos.

  Beep-beep!

  A comms request flashed. Schneider answered hastily. “Doctor, what’s—”

  “Open the door.”

  Schneider turned to find Larry and Card outside the private training chamber. He granted access, and the newcomers entered wearing neural helmets.

  Two customized mechs materialized—Larry’s 5-meter humanoid frame and Card’s 7-meter hybrid. Their privately modified units prioritized agility over bulk, contrasting with Latham’s standard training mech.

  “Doctor!” Schneider greeted nervously.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here, boy,” Larry’s mech crouched to eye-level with Latham’s cockpit. “Not bad for your first combo attempt.”

  “Thank you, but it’s just luck.”

  “Modesty doesn’t suit talent. How long have you trained?”

  Schneider interjected softly, “He started today, Doctor.”

  “TODAY?!” Larry’s mech jerked backward. “You’re attempting combos after half a day?!”

  He loomed closer. “Basics first! Show me your stances.”

  “I’ve mastered all 108 basics, Doctor.”

  “Mastered? Let’s see your real proficiency.” Larry’s mech suddenly erupted into motion—a blur of precision maneuvers.