Chapter Title: Perilous Heights
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Gavin's military academy life hadn't gotten off to a great start, but there were some redeeming qualities—like his roommate, the son of some high-ranking officer, who always grabbed breakfast for him and gazed at him with inexplicable awe.
Gavin was fairly satisfied with that. It felt right for an Alpha.
Gudero hadn't found any faults in his recitation lately, so things had quieted down over the past couple of days. The only downside was that no one in class would talk to him; from training to meals, he was always on his own.
The second lesson for Armed Technicians was in the workshop.
As technicians, they had to know every component of a mech inside and out: C-grade mechs had 50,400 parts, B-grades had 128,000, and A-grades usually topped 200,000. They needed to learn how to assemble and disassemble them, understand their functions and specs, and know what failures would cause in the mech.
Gudero handed out a pile of scattered parts and told the students to form groups and assemble them on their own. Gavin wasn't surprised to find himself alone again, helpless before the little mountain of components in front of him. He had no choice but to approach Gudero.
Director Gudero said coolly,
"You're aiming to be like Marshal Celia, aren't you? Phoenix's armed technician was the Marshal himself. Work hard, and you can do it too!"
Gavin: "..."
Gavin's mind filled with curses as he slunk away dejectedly.
That evening, his official-kid roommate stared in shock at the thousand-plus mech parts scattered across the living room.
"How long to finish?"
"One week."
"...You sure about a week?"
Gavin shot him a baffled look.
"Any problem? You'd be better off taking your underwear off the balcony instead. Not to be rude, but flapping around out there like a damn flag..."
His roommate covered his face and scurried off with a whimper.
Assembling the parts wasn't too hard for Gavin—it was just one arm from a D-grade mech. But brainpower was one thing; physical strength was another. Putting together an arm weighing several hundred kilos all by himself was straight-up grunt work.
Gavin battled for three days. On the fourth, as he left the workshop with bloodshot eyes, planning to grab some food and crash, he spotted Gudero standing in the corridor at the workshop door, his face shadowy in the flickering light.
"Done?"
"...Yes, sir."
Gudero brushed past Gavin and strode silently into the workshop.
A cable hoist dangled a massive, menacing mechanical arm. At the elbow joint loomed the black maw of an electro-thermal cannon, its five fingers splayed toward the sky, the metal gleaming coldly in the highlights.
Gudero squinted at it for a moment before saying flatly,
"Impressive—most of your classmates haven't even sorted their parts yet."
Gavin responded cautiously to Gudero's praise:
"Thank you."
"The day after tomorrow, the upperclassmen have an A-grade mech neural band overhaul. Come observe."
With that, he turned and walked out. Gavin blinked, too slow to reply before Gudero's figure vanished from the workshop.
Anyone else might've taken Gudero's behavior as simple praise, but Gavin had an odd intuition about the quirky director. He sensed something deeper lurking behind Gudero's actions.
And whatever it was, it wasn't benevolent.
Two days later, Gavin arrived at the upperclassmen's outdoor mech repair yard—a vast space spanning dozens of square kilometers, dotted with lathes, towering cranes, hydraulic presses, and open-air computers. A-grade mechs were rare in the Technician Department, so plenty of upperclassmen had shown up to audit, crowding one corner of the yard.
This particular mech reportedly belonged to some colonel in the Imperial Guard. Its neural band had been damaged in an exercise, making mental control iffy. Trusting Gudero's expertise, the colonel had handed it over—only for Gudero to turn around and use it as a training tool for students.
One group of upperclassmen manually piloted the mech, hoisting both arms skyward, at least several dozen meters off the ground. Then another group tied ropes around their waists and rappelled down from the heights into the maintenance access under the mech's armpits. Students on the ground watched via hover screens while Gudero gave a live commentary:
"The most vital power source in a mech—and the key to mental control—is myelin fluid!"
"Myelin fluid's primary component comes from the pilot themselves; the rest is a high-energy solution compressed through over a hundred processes. You should know that mechs with neural tissue possess true AI. Myelin fluid is the bridge for mental communication between pilot and mech, and it stimulates the AI's further development, granting the mech autonomous learning in combat."
"Pilots with higher mental thresholds secrete stronger levels of a certain brain substance, yielding higher-quality myelin fluid. Take the Alliance's top mech, Phoenix, as an example—its intelligence is unparalleled, with emotional processing that rivals humans. After Marshal Celia died in battle, Phoenix shut down on its own and hasn't reactivated since."
"By internal Alliance mech standards, Phoenix's Nirvana Spear is a 4S-grade weapon, and the mech itself is 2S-grade. His Imperial Majesty's Bìàn and General Aaron's Crimson Gold Gryphon both build on Phoenix's core programming with modifications, rating them overall at 3S."
"4S-grade weapons are rare in the universe; most vanished with their mechs, reduced to cosmic dust. Among known 4S weapons, Nirvana Spear is the most famous. After Phoenix permanently shut down, its wielder became the Golden Bìàn."
"But whether the Golden Bìàn's myelin fluid matches Phoenix's is still debated, so if Nirvana Spear still packs 4S power is a hot topic outside."
The cadets present were all elite talents, but even they knew little of S-grades and above, their eyes alight with longing.
"If I could just touch Nirvana Spear—no, even see it once, I'd be happy."
One upperclassman whispered to his friend,
"They say when it swings, it calls down millions of lightning bolts from the atmosphere, incinerating anything in its path. Just imagining it..."
"And that's not all—its attack output tops an interstellar nuke. Remember the Venus Fortress battle!"
"Yeah. If I could become a top technician someday..."
Gavin's eye twitched. *I don't need to become a top technician to see Nirvana Spear—it's zapped me plenty, and I never want to see it again.*
Of course, saying that out loud would get him labeled delusional, so he kept quiet.
Just then, Gudero's voice cut off, as if he'd taken an internal comm. A few minutes later, he returned to the podium:
"The high-altitude team is short one person. Any volunteers?"
For some reason, Gavin's eye twitched sharply.
He knew why Gudero had called him here.
Sure enough, hands shot up eagerly across the yard, but Gudero scanned the crowd slowly before pointing lazily at Gavin:
"That first-year in the corner... yeah, you."
If glares could burn, Gavin would've been ash. He stood slowly, enduring the envious, jealous stares from the upperclassmen as he walked to the front. A few students hurried over to rig his safety line.
"You'll take this lift platform to the top of the tower. There's a toolbox up there for you. The cable will lower you to the access hatch—that angle's tricky, so this is the way down."
Gudero asked offhandedly,
"You're not afraid of heights, are you?"
"...No."
Gudero's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Good. High-altitude work is an Armed Technician's top priority. You'll have to get used to it."
Gavin: "..."
If glares could burn, Gudero would've been ash too.
If Gavin knew anything about Armed Technicians, he'd realize all students started high-altitude training at ten meters—and first-years never touched anything over seventy, no matter what.
At that height, wind and temperature shifts wreaked havoc on the body, and simple cable control wasn't safe. Injuries were commonplace every year.
But it was too late for that now.
Gavin rode the lift to the tower's peak. From up there, the students below looked like swarms of ants. He closed his eyes, wind whipping past his ears—then someone shoved him from behind—
*Whoosh!*
Gavin plummeted, blood rushing to his head. Then—
*Snap!*
A resounding crack echoed endlessly!
The cable went taut, freezing Gavin midair—
At the same moment, high on the tower, the cable anchor emitted an ominous groan!
"Bad! Grab the rope!"
"Professor Gudero—!"
"Lift platform! Lower the platform—!"
Screams erupted in panic. Gavin's heart lurched.
He felt the rope at his waist slacken—the supporting tension vanished.
That instant stretched infinitely, every detail razor-sharp, like a slow-motion mime.
He fell from the heights, toolbox flying free. The rushing wind stole his voice; his grasping hand clutched only air.
*Is this how it ends?*
*So suddenly?*
*No—*
*No————*
Gavin's head lolled instinctively, meeting the hollow eyes of the A-grade mech.
In that moment, his mouth opened—as if to cry for help—but his mind blanked, thought erased.
Gale-force winds howled past the mech's frame as they locked gazes unconsciously. Seconds later, the mechanical eyes flared:
"A-grade mech Purple-Blue Bat, self-activation complete."
"Mental lock disengaged, neural net online."
"Command one: Anti-gravity field."
The massive mechanical arms rose in unison, forming a closed ring around Gavin's body in midair. Then—
*Hum.*
The anti-gravity field activated within the ring, halting Gavin's plunge dead!
"Ah—"
"He's safe... he's safe!"
Cheers exploded from below, clear even at dozens of meters up. Gavin floated in the field, staring dazedly into Purple-Blue Bat's glowing amber eyes.
The A-grade mech bent down gently, setting him on the ground.
"Command complete. Mental protocols shutting down."
The eyes flashed once, then went dark.
As gravity returned, Gavin stumbled to his knees. Students rushed forward, surrounding him. Gudero shoved through the crowd to stand before him.
"You okay?"
Gavin looked up sharply, then whispered so only they could hear,
"Fine... thanks."
Gudero met his gaze, unease stirring within.
Just then, the cockpit landed. The student who'd operated the mech stumbled over.
"Professor Gudero! Professor, I—I—"
Gudero cut him off, pointing at Gavin.
"Two of you, take him to the med bay."
Only then did he turn to the mech operator.
"Commandeering another pilot's mech in an emergency is permitted. You did well."
But the student's lips quivered, his words shaky and broken:
"No, Professor... I didn't do anything. The mech... the mech started on its own..."
Gudero's expression shifted.
He stared at Purple-Blue Bat; the mech's dull gray eyes stared blankly back. After a long pause, Gudero sighed and murmured,
"...I see."
2.
Gavin's injuries weren't serious—just some waist abrasions—but since he was a Beta, the med bay forced him to rest there all afternoon.
Edna arrived first, explaining the investigation: the cable anchor's snap was pure coincidence. The prior rappelers had sensed something off, but Gavin had the misfortune of being the unlucky one.
Gavin thanked her politely and assured her the Technician Department was fine; no need to transfer.
Edna left, worried. The next surprise visitor was Principal Caroline.
The Alpha woman had big curls, a tall and sturdy build, and a hard-edged face with a soldier's crisp demeanor. For some reason, Gavin felt she'd looked familiar—but since Edna had given him the same vibe, he chalked it up to all women looking alike to him.
"I've heard about you from Edna. Her decisions are mine, overall. But I want to confirm: once Heinrich's people pull out, will you leave the Royal Military Academy?"
Gavin had never considered it.
"Maybe."
"I want you to stay."
Caroline said firmly,
"Your talent is undeniable, but society is unfair to Omegas. The Protection Association exploits that by stripping Omega rights for profit, controlling most of society's reproduction—and to boost the Empire's birth rate, even Heinrich can't stop them outright."
Gavin murmured,
"The pitfalls of classism..."
"The Empire did save a collapsing social order, achieving what the late Alliance couldn't. But it bred plenty of flaws too."
Caroline paused, then added meaningfully,
"A friend of mine once said replacing bad democracy with good dictatorship is just drinking poison to quench thirst. You'd agree, right?"
Gavin studied the principal, a strange, indescribable feeling rising.
"...Anyway, I just want you free and safe."
Caroline realized her slip, tossed out the line hastily, and left.
Not long after, the door knocked again. This visitor was the last Gavin expected.
Gudero.
The lanky middle-aged man was perpetually bundled in his dark iron coat; even the bright med bay lights couldn't brighten his gloomy face. He slammed the door shut and loomed over Gavin, cutting off any chance to speak:
"—I know you think it was me."
Gavin stayed neutral, countering,
"Oh? Do I?"
"Don't play games with me, you snot-nosed little Beta brat! You think I tried to kill you to boot you from Technicians? Why would I bother? Who the hell do you think you are?"
Gudero stepped closer, his lean face flushed beet-red:
"Yeah, you're talented—but I'm the Armed Technician Director! I've been here since the Royal Military Academy was founded. Back in the Alliance era, I was a galaxy-renowned technician. When the Radiant Legion was still around, I even serviced Phoenix! What makes you worth targeting? Just thinking it insults me!"
*...He doesn't even see what's wrong with that...*
Gavin's eye twitched faintly.
"Fine, sending you up for high-altitude work was deliberate."
Gudero inhaled sharply, admitting grudgingly,
"I wanted you out of Technicians. I figured seventy meters would scare you off... make you request transfer yourself."
His reluctance was painfully obvious. Gavin finally asked,
"But you said I had talent. Why...?"
"What do you know? You're a Beta!"
"Professor! Marshal Celia was a Beta too!"
"So he's dead!"
Gudero bellowed,
"After hellish agony, he died alone! The whole universe knows he was a failure!"
Awkward silence blanketed the room. At length, Gudero straightened, resuming his stiff, acerbic demeanor:
"Aside from Marshal Celia, you're the first Beta I've seen mentally force an A-grade mech to boot. You do have talent—that damned talent that leads straight to ruin."
"You're a Beta. You don't know protecting the nation is the Alphas' duty—their innate conditions demand they bear the blood, the wounds, the sacrifices. But you can be spared. Don't let talent blind you into taking a road that looks glorious but is one-way."
Gavin was stunned.
Gudero straightened his immaculate collar stiffly.
"I'll honor our assessment deal, but I still hope you'll quit on your own—think it over."
He turned and left, face frosty, without a backward glance.
The parade of visitors left Gavin no rest that afternoon. Back at the dorm that night, his roommate pestered him with exclamations, confirming Gavin hadn't lost a single hair before grilling him on what the A-grade mech looked like—his words dripping raw envy.
"If I could get that close to an A-grade mech, I'd jump off the tower no problem! You're one lucky bastard, aaaaaah! Dinner's on you!"
"...I nearly died."
"Not the point, buddy! A-grade mechs number under a thousand across the Empire! Shame my eyesight's too poor for the mech corps. If I could just have one... hell, a B-grade would satisfy me. No other dreams left in this life!"
Gavin's mind darkened with petty thoughts: *If this guy knew a 3S mech was clipped to his ear, he'd faint on the spot. Wonder what that'd look like...*
This textbook official-kid roommate—whose odd name was Jing— was a total goof in every way. Under his endless gossip enthusiasm, Gavin learned Gudero hadn't exaggerated: he really was a big deal.
Gudero had served early on in the Alliance's Radiant Legion, overseeing repairs on countless A-grades and even maintaining the double-S Phoenix. In the Venus Fortress battle, with Marshal Celia in poor health, Gudero volunteered to enter Phoenix and assist—but Parliament denied him.
That battle hit a solar storm; Phoenix took heavy damage shielding both armies' retreat, leading to the Alliance's crushing defeat and flipping the entire war.
Gudero blamed himself deeply and soon left the Radiant Legion.
Later, after Celia died at Red Earth Star and the Legion scattered, Gudero slipped away in grief to teach in the frontier systems. But Principal Caroline knew his prowess and invited him relentlessly until he joined the Royal Military Academy as Armed Technician Director.
"He's got heavy gender bias, sure, but his skills are legit."
Jing sprayed crumbs from his chicken leg.
"My Technician friends all respect him. Though tech geniuses tend to have quirks—don't take it personal."
Gavin nodded, silent.
Gudero's acerbic face resurfaced in his mind, but the disgust had quietly faded, replaced by faint sympathy and sadness.
Those feelings lingered until monthly assessments.
"Gu—de—ro—!"
Gavin fumed,
"That's too much!"
A massive shoulder plate lay on the workbench. The task: find at least one mechanical fault in thirty minutes—no problem.
The problem? The toolbox was empty! Not even an electron knife!
Gavin's mind raced with fury. He lodged protests with the proctor twice—to crickets. On the third, the proctor snapped,
"Director Gudero says real combat means technicians often lack tools. You gonna skip repairs without 'em?"
Gavin: "..."
Gavin finally realized Gudero was going all-out to oust him from Technicians.
Back at the bench, he stared blankly at the meter-thick shoulder plate, tapping the alloy surface.
That 3S idiot lion had said his mental threshold was sky-high; Purple-Blue Bat had booted from it too. Could he use his mental power to map the internals?
"Forget it—that's a pure mechanical shoulder plate. No neural net inside."
Gavin startled, turning toward the voice, but it continued:
"Of course, with my help, it's different—see? Now you get why you should carry me close, huh?"
Gavin blurted,
"...Gryphon?"
The Crimson Gold earring at his hairline flashed, like a smug wink.
Gavin's suspicions flared:
"Weren't you out of power and shut down? What's this?"
"Er, I actually have emergency reserves..."
"Why save 'em till now?"
"My willpower's earth-shaking, so..."
"A machine's willpower?"
"Don't underestimate machines, okay! People who do will cry for machines someday!"
The Gryphon snapped, indignant.
"Too far! Seeing your long-lost buddy and not bursting into tears for a hug? Do you even want me back, huh?!"
*Wanting you was an accident to begin with...*
Gavin's mouth twitched. After a pause:
"You'd better tell me the power source honestly, or..."
"Or what? I'm a mech! A 3S mech! Crowds dream of a glimpse, lifelong quests to touch my hand—"
Gavin quietly unclipped the earring and headed to the window.
"No—don't be so cruel! You heartless Omega! Fine, I confess—treating a powerless mech like this ain't heroic... No no! Don't! I'll talk!"
The Gryphon paused, then switched to a perfectly choked sob:
"Before shutdown, I tried... extracting myelin fluid from you..."
Gavin *whooshed* the window open!
"No no no! Stop! I swear on my mom's life—it's totally harmless to humans! Just processing a tiny component from your fluids! I'm a mech with principles and morals—why would I hurt people!"
Gavin dangled the earring perilously:
"—You have no mom."
"...Then on Heinrich's name."
Gavin thought it over.
"Nah, your mom."