Clang. Clang. Clang.
"Viewers across the Solar System Federation, the S10 Pan-Solar Mecha Warriors Championship has come to a grand conclusion. Let us congratulate the brave souls of the NUP Moon Federation—claiming the team championship with a massive lead of 25,000 points. The runners-up are the warriors of the ROM Mars Federation. Third place goes to the USE Earth Federation, and in fourth, the TAS—the combined autonomous states of Titan and the Starry Space City. Our thanks to them for such a spectacular display of combat."
After more than a month of grueling battles, the most watched event in the human world reached its climax. The NUP defended their title, widening the gap even further. As of S10, the Moon has secured six championships, while the USE and ROM have two each. There was a time when the three major federations took turns at the top, but in recent years, the Moon has left no room for anyone else.
The finals night of the championship is known as "Supernova Light." For this tenth edition, the organizers pulled out all the stops, inviting the reigning mega-idol, Arths, to perform five consecutive songs. That fact alone was enough to go down in history.
In truth, Arths knew very little about mecha. The organizers had to practically beg her to join, but they knew the formula: the strongest competition paired with the hottest idol. It was a masterpiece of marketing. Heroes and beauties—it's a tale that always sells.
Over the month-and-a-half schedule, the event drew over twenty billion views. Both the top-tier duels and Arths' performance shattered records.
What no one expected was that the "clash of titans" between Earth and the Moon turned into a one-sided slaughter. It wasn't just a win; it was a total eclipse. Even more surprising was ROM overtaking the USE. The Martians finally found their rhythm with "Beast-type" mecha; their pilots were fearless, willing to gamble everything on a single play. While the world praised them, the Martians themselves weren't satisfied. They had only one goal: to be number one in humanity.
At this moment, on Mars' Olympus Mons, a new round of special training has already begun.
The Mecha Championship is also a proxy war for national strength. The NUP leads the way in economy and technology; its dominance over the Solar System Federation is likely only a matter of time. Mars has endured decades of quiet preparation and has shown immense progress. Even the TAS found its own style this year—their "Gigantor" class mecha look clumsy, but they hit with terrifying force. As for the USE, which had set its sights on the trophy, only one description fit: uninspired.
The stage creates heroes.
This year's awards included the "Top Ten Ace Pilots," "Top Ten Ace Mecha," and "Top Ten Solar Military Academies." Seven of the top ten pilots were from the Moon—now dubbed the "New Big Dipper." The NUP's Alex Starbright Mecha Academy took home the title of the #1 military academy and hoisted the God of War Trophy. S10 was a carnival for the Moon-dwellers. With two consecutive titles under their belt, their next target is the triple crown. The event was a triumph of both fame and fortune, proving once again that the NUP's bet on 50-to-60-ton light-medium super mecha would define the mainstream for the foreseeable future.
Earth. Tianjing, the largest city in the Asian Sector. A dormitory.
"Holy crap, Zack, your eyes are practically glued to the screen," Marlon remarked, leaning back in his white shirt and light jeans. "You can look, but you can't touch. What's the point?"
"Marlon, you don't get it. Arths is my goddess," Zack replied, his gaze unwavering. He was a die-hard fan and a local coordinator for the Tianjing fan club. Usually the easiest guy in the dorm to get along with, he'd turn into a lion the moment anyone spoke ill of Arths.
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, man. Get real," Marlon scoffed. Arths was like a drug—watch too much and you'd lose your mind. Even a veteran like him found it hard to resist her charm.
To the left, a guy was pumping dumbbells while watching the awards ceremony. Built like a tank, he had the best grades in the room. This was Wyatt Cross, nicknamed "The Railer"—as in steel rails, not a player. Wyatt watched the Link broadcast, his voice tinged with envy: "You have to admit, the NUP has the edge in mecha theory, physical stats, and combat tech. Leo, you actually called it. But I still think light mecha have flaws. This loss was partly due to underestimating them. This year will be different."
Before the tournament, the other three thought Earth could put up a fight. Instead, it was a rout. If it weren't for Titan's lack of overall depth, Earth might have finished dead last.
"What fits is what's best," Marlon shrugged. "The Lunar 'Evolvers' have the highest genetic completion; the natural advantage is right there. Their new mecha are hard to master and physically demanding, but the ceiling is much higher. The Moon goes for the high-end route and leaves everyone else in the dust."
"When are we eating?" Leo asked, rubbing his stomach.
"Not quite dinner time yet. It's on me tonight. We have freshman orientation tomorrow, so I'll need you guys to lend a hand."
Marlon was the president of the Photography Club. His dream was to document "youth and beauty."
Dorm 4396 was somewhat famous at the Tianjing Academy of Combat Mecha—the top military school in the Asian Sector, packed with elites. Leo Kerr, Zack, Wyatt, and Marlon were the Class of '87. Wyatt was a mecha major recruit; the Cross family was a household name in Tianjing and across Asia—a martial arts dynasty with a deep foundation. Wyatt had been the freshman speaker for the mecha department last year.
Marlon, a man whose sole hobby was chasing girls, came from Long Harbor as a Starship major recruit. He became an overnight sensation after a song at the freshman gala and, within a week, had secured a relationship with Sienna, a sophomore dance club president and journalism beauty. Since then, they'd been inseparable, constantly flaunting their romance to the single souls in the dorm.
Leo and Zack were childhood friends, born and raised in Tianjing. Zack was a round-faced guy with a lopsided skill set: his melee combat was trash, but his sniping earned him an A-, which caused a heated debate among the recruiters. Leo, the "dorm dad" and oldest of the group, originally applied for journalism but was somehow diverted to the mecha department. Initially, Wyatt and Marlon were skeptical—young elites usually despise those who get in through the "back door." Marlon's original take was: If you're going to use a connection, at least show us some talent. Where's the talent? Leo never bit. Later, they learned from Zack that Leo was an orphan with no connections to speak of. Leo himself was just as confused about his placement. After that, everyone let it go.
"Leo, Zack, you two really need to watch yourselves this semester. You know we have a new principal, right?" Marlon said. "The Federation is cleaning house. Major General Diana Long is no joke. And Leo, stop using 'Virtual Mode' for your EMP training. It feels good, but it's useless for real growth."
EMP (Electronic Mecha Platform) was developed by the Federation Research HQ. It featured every mecha type from the four federations and was constantly updated. It had two modes: Virtual and Realistic. Virtual was for the experience—it was open to the public and was the reason mecha combat had such a massive following. Realistic mode was reserved for military students or top-tier amateurs with high physical test scores; it simulated about 70% of actual impact and physical strain. The Federation originally opened Virtual mode to raise funds when budgets were tight, but it became so popular they couldn't bring themselves to shut it down. Interestingly, 40% of Virtual users were women. In terms of ranking, winning in Virtual mode granted very few points; the real climb happened in Realistic. For this year's Pan-Solar qualifiers, the threshold for the Asian Sector was an EMP score of 1200 or a single-category A grade.
Wyatt was the best in the dorm, finishing the year at 1296 without even trying to grind. Marlon was at 1020, which was impressive considering he was a Starship major who spent half his time chasing girls and taking photos. Leo and Zack were both stuck in the 800s. Their main concern was Leo. The three of them knew that Leo worked incredibly hard during his freshman year—he was disciplined to a fault, often disappearing early and returning with breakfast for everyone. He used the EMP more than anyone, yet his score hovered around 800, meaning his win rate was likely abysmal. Being roommates, they didn't want to press him on it.
"Don't worry, I'll lay off the Virtual mode," Leo laughed. "I can't leave you guys; you'd starve without me."
"Leo, if you need anything, just say the word," Marlon said, patting his chest. Even though his major wasn't mecha combat, he was confident in his skills.
Wyatt glanced at Leo but said nothing.
That evening, Marlon went out for a date with his "senior sister," calling it his "last supper" before focusing on the new freshmen. Zack was swamped with his duties as a fan leader; Arths' performance had sent her popularity into the stratosphere, and the Link's trending topics were dominated by her name. Usually soft-spoken, Zack became a different person when he was in "fan-mode."
Leo and Wyatt headed to the EMP building together. The eighteen-story structure was a landmark of Tianjing Academy, bustling with students looking for training or just a bit of stress relief.
"Leo, Marlon wasn't exaggerating. The high-ups are furious about the championship loss, especially since the Lunar pilots broke several EMP records," Wyatt said. He was a man of few words but intense action. His skill was already tournament-level; he just lacked seniority. Give him a year, and he'd be a contender. "The old principal was forced into early retirement. Almost all military schools have been taken over by the younger 'hardline' faction. Mecha and Starship departments are going to get squeezed. If you need a sparring partner, let me know."
Leo patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks, I've got it under control."
"I've noticed you go to the EMP more than I do. But technique matters. Virtual mode really is a trap. The more we lose, the more we need to find our rhythm in real combat. Our physical conditions aren't as good as the Lunar folks, and Virtual mode—while fun—is just 'flower-fist and embroidery-leg' fluff. I bet Principal Long will ban military students from using it this year."
Leo rubbed his nose. Wyatt was blunt, but he meant well. "Alright, alright. I swear, no more Virtual mode. I'll be a good student."
In truth... how could he put it? He hadn't really been using Virtual mode. But in a way, he had.
Wyatt picked a training room and headed in. Leo smiled as his Link device buzzed. He glanced at it but didn't open it immediately.
It was an anonymous email.