Planet 11, Underground Arena.
Thick soundproof walls kept the noise outside from seeping in, leaving only a piece of classical music drifting lazily through the air.
On the long table, the scents of roasted beast ribs, crystal-shelled crab, and spiced soup tangled together, warm steam rising in soft waves.
Wang Mian and Ethan were devouring the feast like two starving beasts that had not eaten for days, completely defenseless before the food.
I, on the other hand, took slow sips of juice, watching their mouths gleam with oil.
"What are you even doing here in the underground arena?" Wang Mian asked, his words muffled around half a chunk of meat.
"Making money," I said with a shrug. "I take mecha jobs sometimes too."
"Fighting counts as making money now?" Ethan joined in with a laugh.
"Of course. I've been fighting since I was a kid."
They both laughed, thinking I was joking. After all, in their eyes, I had always been that strange prodigy—talented, with mysterious backing.
I set my cup down and pointed to my terminal. "Wanna see my record?"
The screen lit up, a single line of numbers floating quietly in the air—
358 wins, 0 losses.
The air froze.
Ethan nearly spat out his soup, and the rib Wang Mian was holding fell back onto the plate with a slap.
"You… fight that well?"
"Not bad," I said with an easy smile.
"So that's why you study mecha?" Wang Mian finally connected the dots. "That S-Class mech—you built it yourself?"
"Yeah. Modifications, tuning, system integration—all mine. When the scan marked it S-Class, Mr. Song Ran from Planet 173 gave me his mech as a gift. I… took it apart for fun."
Their faces went blank.
Wang Mian frowned, thinking for a few seconds, then asked, "So what's your background really? When we first met, you were riding that modified bike. Something that high-spec must've cost a fortune."
I smiled lightly. "No. I'm an orphan. No family, no background."
Silence returned.
My gaze dropped slightly. "Back then, I lived in the junkyard on Planet 173. That bike was how I got to town. You could borrow it, sure. But sell it? Never."
Ethan quietly set down his utensils, letting out a long breath.
Wang Mian's smile froze on his lips. After a long pause, he finally said, "So I really did pay five hundred just to ride it once."
I laughed. "You did. And you crashed it."
He laughed too, a little sheepishly. "Back then, I thought you were just rich and bored, playing with custom mods for fun."
He scratched his head. "If I'd known, I would've borrowed it a few more times. Maybe helped you earn your tuition or something."
I said nothing, only smiled.
That was when he finally understood—
those 358 victories were not numbers to show off,
but the money, tuition, and right to exist that I had fought for, piece by piece, from the bottom of the dirt.
Just then, a familiar voice called from outside the room.
"Hey—if it isn't Apollo! You here for a few rounds too?"
I looked up and saw two familiar faces.
One was Superman, the other his partner Sunny Boy.
They were still in their combat suits, shoulders smudged with grease—clearly fresh from a match.
"You guys too?" I asked, surprised.
"Of course," Sunny Boy grinned. "Heard there's an A-Class duel tonight. No way we'd miss the show. Superman's mech runs almost zero-lag now. I'm thinking of copying his setup."
I smiled. "As long as it works."
Ethan's gaze lingered on the mech behind Superman—
a medium-class machine of deep gray and silver-white, its armor edges sharp, a pale blue light pulsing in its core.
"That looks like a military-grade interface," he murmured.
Superman noticed his glance and raised an eyebrow. "Sharp eyes. Not many recognize that at first look."
Ethan only gave a small nod.
"Come on, come on, let's go watch!" Wang Mian was already clapping me on the shoulder, eyes sparkling with excitement.
I checked the time and stood up. "Let's go."
We walked through a narrow corridor lit in cool blue tones.
The arena broadcast echoed through the air—
"Match forty-eight: Obsidian versus Starbreaker. Countdown, five minutes."
The roar of the crowd surged like waves.
We pushed open the doors, and the lights dimmed instantly, leaving only a single white-blue spotlight illuminating the center stage.
Two mechas stood at opposite ends—
one black as night, armor thick and pulsing with faint red light;
the other silver and sleek, its crystal-plated shoulders reflecting like stars.
"Obsidian versus Starbreaker!"
The announcer's voice shook the air.
Obsidian's thrusters roared, fire bursting from its back and searing the floor.
Starbreaker darted to the side, sliding in for a flank.
Sparks exploded, metal screeching against metal in a storm of noise.
"That defense ratio is brutal," Ethan muttered, eyes locked on the data feed. "At least seventy percent allocation to shields."
I nodded. "Stable, but heavy."
Seconds later, smoke rose from Starbreaker's right shoulder—energy overload.
Obsidian lunged forward and slammed a punch down.
Boom!
Starbreaker's defense collapsed.
"Starbreaker's system failure. Eliminated from match!"
The broadcast echoed as the crowd erupted in cheers.
Obsidian stood tall in the center, like an iron god.
I leaned back in my seat, the corner of my mouth lifting. "Solid."
"Next up, open challenge round! Any challengers?"
I set my drink down and stood up.
"I'll go."
"You?!"
Wang Mian nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Just a try." I smiled.
I fastened the neural link ring, my vision syncing into the mech's system.
The external light dissolved into flowing white.
That was my modified A-Class mech—
the one I always used in the underground arena,
the one the system automatically rated as A-Class.
The broadcast voice stretched out dramatically:
"Challenger—APOLLO!"
The audience exploded.
"It's her! Apollo!"
"The A-Class mystery fighter, ranked 157th on the underground leaderboard!"
The countdown began to flash.
Three. Two. One.
Signal light—green.
I moved.
Blink. Arc. Afterimage.
The mech's figure flashed across the field, closing in on Obsidian's flank in an instant.
I spun my wrist and threw.
The energy blade curved in a half arc.
"Reverse strike."
Boom!
Light ripped through the air. Obsidian's left arm shattered, its defense system collapsing instantly.
For one heartbeat, silence. Then the arena exploded in noise.
"She broke the defense in one hit?!"
"The sensors couldn't even register her movement!"
"She's insane—that's Apollo!"
Red text flashed across the giant screen:
Winner — APOLLO.
I stepped out of the cockpit and removed the neural ring.
Wang Mian and Ethan were shouting from the stands like gamblers who had just hit the jackpot.
I waved at them and left the arena with a grin.
Outside, the streetlights burned faint and yellow.
The night wind on Planet 11 carried the scent of oil and metal, brushing against my face like a wake-up call.
As we walked, Wang Mian kept shouting, "That move—there's no way that's human reflex speed!"
Ethan chuckled softly. "Now you see why she's 358 and zero."
"You don't get it!" Wang Mian yelled. "That's a miracle! Aurora, I'm begging you to teach me! Next time I'll record it in slow motion—I swear you're not reacting with sight alone!"
I spread my hands. "Just practice."
"Practice? That's a physics cheat code!"
Ethan said nothing. He only turned his head to look at me.
and in that glance was something deeper, something no one else could read.