Part 1
The long-awaited day had finally arrived.
The first annual showcase of Seisen—an event where the academy flaunted its potential to the world, unveiled new technologies, and welcomed promising youths from across nations.
The main coliseum overflowed with spectators.
Students, instructors, military officers, and even foreign delegates filled the stands. Banners rippled above, drones streamed the event live, and the roar of thousands of voices fused into an atmosphere so electrifying it was impossible to ignore.
The opening ceremony wasn't just academic formality. It was military and technological propaganda.
A reminder that Seisen—and NovaTech—stood as humanity's first line of defense against the Nulvoids.
At the center of the coliseum, a stage lit up in a sudden explosion of fireworks, confetti, and fanfare. And, as always, Director Reinhardt made his entrance with all the theatrical flair of a magician mid-performance.
"Honored guests! World governments, investors, parents… and whatever else this card says!" he bellowed, tossing his cue cards into the air—to the utter despair of the vice director.
"Welcome to this sweltering July evening, and to our first international event of the year!"
"For those unaware, this year Seisen will be awarding scholarships to two foreign students: one pilot and one combatant! Yes, yes… NovaTech policy."
He tipped his hat, and as if it were nothing, fired a hidden confetti cannon from inside it.
"And now… our candidates!"
A platform slowly rose from the arena floor. Four young figures appeared on the left, and four more on the right.
"First, let's introduce the pilots who will represent their countries." Reinhardt extended his arm with a flourish.
"From Peru—Inti Callao! One of South America's best times, known for his aerial maneuverability and fearless spirit!"
The dark-haired boy raised his hand energetically, greeting the crowd like a parade celebrity. His confident grin betrayed him as someone who lived for the spotlight.
"And from China—the pilot Li Meiyun!" Reinhardt continued. "She received her Astra Core at eight, mastered a mecha at ten, and currently holds the number one spot in the youth rankings. A true prodigy of her nation!"
Meiyun gave a calm nod. Her gaze was cold, calculating, fixed on the audience. She wasn't seeking applause—she was demanding recognition.
"Our third guest represents Israel. With record-breaking shooting accuracy and an impeccable record in aerial simulations… Eitan Levin!"
A silver-haired boy stepped forward with steady steps. He didn't wave to the crowd. He only dipped his head slightly—like a soldier born to discipline.
"And finally, from India—Raj Malhotra! Known for his mastery of kinetic energy and a daring, borderline suicidal piloting style… yet undeniably brilliant!"
The chestnut-haired youth threw both arms into the air as if celebrating victory before the fight even began. The audience responded with cheers and laughter, swept up by his infectious enthusiasm.
Reinhardt spread his arms wide, basking in the spectacle.
"Ladies and gentlemen, these are our four international pilots! Young men and women who have crossed oceans to prove that humanity's future still shines in their hands!"
Thunderous applause erupted, filling the coliseum, as cameras zoomed in on each of the candidates' faces.
Director Reinhardt spun dramatically, releasing another shower of confetti from his jacket sleeve.
"And now… let's meet the combatants!"
A new platform rose, four silhouettes emerging under blinding spotlights, the roll of drums building the suspense.
"First, from Italy—bearing the proud tradition of the gladiators, a young man who fuses technique with spectacle: Luca Romano!"
A dark-haired boy, his confident smile and television-star charisma radiating through the arena, raised his arms as if he had already won the tournament on presence alone.
"From the Philippines—the tropical storm of Manila, swift as lightning and fierce as a typhoon: Selene Navarro!"
A short-haired girl with sharp eyes gave a curt wave, her steps steady and brimming with resolve.
"From the great Russia, where winters forge warriors of iron… the lady with fists of steel: Anya Volkov!"
The Russian's muscles strained against her combat suit as she snapped a salute so crisp it thundered louder than the applause. The crowd whistled and cheered with excitement.
Reinhardt raised his arm with exaggerated flourish, stretching the moment for all it was worth.
"And finally… representing the United States! With a blazing spirit and an even sharper tongue—Marcus Kane!"
A tan-skinned boy with bandaged fists and a mischievous grin gave a thumbs-up to the cameras. The audience burst into laughter when he threw in an overacted idol-style wink.
Reinhardt clapped with his trademark theatrical enthusiasm.
"Ladies and gentlemen, these are our international combatants! Let's give them a warm welcome with a round of applause! Welcome to Japan!"
The crowd erupted into cheers. Cameras panned across the young hopefuls on stage as they waved like stars at a concert.
From one of the balconies, Yoruka sat in poised elegance, her katana resting against her shoulder. At her side, President Eva watched the ceremony with stern focus.
"Interesting candidates this year…" Eva murmured without shifting her gaze.
Reiji scoffed from a shadowed corner, leaning against the wall with arms crossed.
"I couldn't care less about those clowns… but I'll admit, the Russian looks like a decent opponent."
"That's only because you're a man without style, Reiji," Yoruka replied coolly.
He raised a brow, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
"Pardon me, Miss Dojo, for not being born into some prestigious family line… and having to survive on the streets, fighting with nothing but my own hands every single day."
Yoruka's eyes narrowed, her composure visibly cracking.
"Do you think life in a dojo was a bed of roses?"
Her hand brushed the hilt of her katana. Reiji, however, only shrugged.
"All I'm saying is you've never had to dig through trash just to eat. The only thing that kept me alive… was fighting. That's why I love it so much."
"I see… so you're a masochist," Yoruka replied icily. "In any case, your affairs have nothing to do with me."
A heavy silence settled over the balcony, sharp enough to cut the air itself. Eva merely glanced at them out of the corner of her eye, making no move to intervene.