When it was finally Vera Warde's class's turn for mecha practice, she was thrilled.
It was her first time touching a real combat‑type mecha — even if it was an obsolete B‑class unit, she couldn't hide her excitement. Deep down, Vera was a total mecha fanatic.
"First, let's get familiar with the main parts of the unit for operation," Li Pi said, pointing to the gray‑green mecha.
He explained each outer section, then opened his holobrain to project an image of the cockpit.
"The control center is coordinated by the cranial link and manual input. That means a pilot's perception level and hand speed are the two key factors in evaluating a mecha soldier."
The class held their breath, afraid to miss a single word.
"Got it?" Li Pi asked when he was done. Then, after pressing something on the panel, the cockpit popped open. "There's no better way to learn than to try. We'll follow student ID order — fifteen minutes each. 108009, you're up."
Student IDs combined the cohort number with lineup order from their first day.
Those who transferred or died kept their numbers vacant; the rest stayed fixed.
Everyone watched 108009 climb up with admiration — until reality hit. Fifteen minutes later, he had only managed to make the mecha take one step, drenched in sweat.
"Not bad — first try and it moved," Li Pi praised.
The others assumed he was being kind, but as student after student went up, every single one came down soaked like they'd sprinted ten kilometers — and their mechas had barely twitched.
From morning till night, dozens took their turns, yet only a handful got their mechas to move at all — all of them top students with B‑level or higher aptitude, maybe A‑rank candidates.
"108429, you're next." Li Pi's gaze settled on the last student.
Vera Warde stepped forward and climbed swiftly into the cockpit.
Everyone suddenly straightened, eyes wide.
Though she'd been mediocre in her early years, Vera's performance last year had been stellar — she'd even out‑fought Wu De from the next class — so expectations were high.
"I heard Wu De had his mecha walk a full lap his first try."
"For real?! That's crazy!"
"A‑rank perception gives him a B‑class advantage."
"Vera's gotta be better."
"No question."
Inside, Vera fastened her helmet. A tingling current ran through her temples as the neural link activated. She glanced over the console — Li Pi's every instruction was burned into memory. Testing a few buttons, she watched the mecha's arms shift between blade and cannon forms.
Nothing new; everyone had tried those.
She closed her eyes, mentally disassembling the machine's inner structure. So many things she wished she could physically take apart.
If only she could really dismantle it.
Opening her eyes, Vera attempted to make it walk.
"Hey, it moved!" someone called excitedly — a foot had shifted. As expected of Vera.
Li Pi's smile was just forming when, next second —
BOOM — the mecha toppled over, taking Vera with it.
The training hall fell silent. Everyone: "…"
Finally, someone whispered, "H‑haha, biggest movement of the day! That's… gotta mean she's good!"
The rest: "…Yeah, sure."
Frowning, Li Pi forced open the cockpit — Vera lay unconscious inside.
"Vera! Vera!"
"…Huh?" She blinked groggily at the voice.
"Come out," he said sternly, his expression dark. He had a bad feeling.
After years of teaching, he'd seen students with low perception but strong bodies — but Vera… he didn't want to believe that was it.
Dazed, Vera climbed out, glanced at the fallen mecha, then turned to him. "Sorry, teacher."
"What happened?" Li Pi asked.
She rubbed her head, then her stomach. "I think… I'm just really hungry."
They had been there since morning. Everyone was so absorbed they'd skipped lunch.
Li Pi: "…"
He took a deep breath. "Go eat. Anyone who wants to see Vera's next attempt can come after dinner."
Dragging Vera along, he went straight to a restaurant and ordered a full table of food.
"Teacher, nutrient packs are cheaper and faster," Vera murmured — this spread probably cost what his wife spent in weeks.
"Stop talking," he snapped, eyes serious. "Eat until you're full, then we try again."
"Oh."
When the dishes arrived, Li Pi barely touched them. "You eat. All of it."
Vera did as told, clearing the table and burping contentedly.
Back on the training field, the students had already returned — eager for round two.
This time, fed and steady, Vera entered the cockpit and powered up.
The mecha rose — first bracing with its hands, then knees, then springing to its feet in one fluid motion.
"Woah—!" the crowd shouted.
That wasn't just movement. That was balance — precision. Talent. The difference of perception level.
Vera had to be A‑grade.
Li Pi watched her guide the mecha forward, his expression complex.
Ten minutes later, she emerged.
Classmates surrounded her — some to congratulate, some to ask questions. After a few replies, Li Pi called for silence.
"Next week we'll divide sessions so everyone gets more time. We're done for today. Dismissed."
When the students left, he patted Vera's shoulder. "Let's go."
Later that night, just as she was ready for bed, Li Pi called her again, hesitating.
"Teacher?"
"Vera," he said at last, "I believe you might actually make it into the Five Major Military Academies."
His eyes were complicated — hopeful yet resigned.
For ordinary people, getting in was a miracle in itself; the competition inside was pure monsters.
"Don't worry," she said matter‑of‑factly. "If I get in, I'll score well."
When she set her mind on something, Vera never wavered.
Li Pi laughed quietly — he had underestimated her confidence.
"I once watched a competition up close," he said. "Students from the Five Academies… The phrase 'chosen by heaven' was made for them."
Vera pouted. "I'm chosen by heaven too — just heaven raised me on scraps."
"Fine, fine. You're amazing. Go sleep."
After Vera retired to her room, Li Pi spoke quietly to his wife.
"Cook more from now on. I think she's never really eaten her fill."
"She hasn't? Why?"
He sighed. "Her body's lagging from malnutrition. Today she fainted as soon as she linked up — only after eating could she move again."
A neural link to a mecha's system burned tremendous mental energy — overreaching levels was impossible. Collapsing was common; severe cases damaged the mind.
That was why he'd looked so grim earlier — he had thought her perception was too low.
Now he knew it was simply lack of fuel.
His wife clucked in sympathy. "No wonder she's so thin — and she never told us."
"Her appetite's big, but we never noticed."
Vera didn't know what they discussed, but from the next day on, her meals doubled.
Li Pi's wife packed snacks for her, and Wu De "donated sins" from time to time — no, brought offerings to let her "free the sinful food."
Thanks to that, her final school year was pleasant; her dizziness faded, some meat appeared on her bones, and she finally looked like a normal teenager instead of a walking skeleton.
"How did you pull off that move yesterday?" Wu De asked, pushing a box of cake toward her.
He meant the moment she'd had the mecha cut a flower shape out of A4 paper.
The academy's B‑class mechas were ancient and bare‑bones. They couldn't even afford proper energy sources, so students weren't allowed combat practice. Most still couldn't control basic movements.
Wu De at least had his own display unit to train on and A‑level perception; he could run and jump smoothly. Recently he'd even made his mecha dance — joint motion so fluid it stunned the teachers. None of them at 3212 Academy had A‑rank perception themselves.
But cutting flowers from printer paper? Impossible — the hands were too big, the paper too fragile.
"Just like that," Vera said between bites of cake. "Control the fingers, keep balance."
He pulled out another box of food and placed it in front of her.
Vera opened it, smiled, and shut it again. "Deal. I'll teach you next class."
Soon, all the top students were pulled into an advanced training group with their own machine — Vera and Wu De now shared a class.
"A few months till the perception test," he asked, "nervous?"
"A bit," she admitted — she only knew the basics about that test.
"You're stronger than me. If you can control a combat model like that, you're definitely A‑rank."
"Maybe."
The next day, Vera recorded her own session so Wu De could see her exact controls. She understood the system better than others; learning was easy.
"Got it?" she asked after coming down.
"Got it," he said — then grabbed her arm. "We should practice mecha combat."
She eyed his hand until he let go. "Combat means two mechas. We've only got one shared trainer."
"I know. But could you modify mine so I can bring it here for sparring?"
She clicked her tongue. "You really have that much faith in me?"
"I'll agree to whatever terms you want — if you can pull it off," he said, gritting his teeth.
His uncle lived on a bigger star and never missed a chance to brag about his own kids' training at top‑tier academies. It used to annoy Wu De, until he realized he could glean useful tips.
Their family was wealthy for Star 3212, but that was all — transferring to a larger planet was financially out of reach.
Tuition, residency fees, living expenses — the numbers were astronomical.
Graduation was near; Wu De's future at the Five Academies was certain, but he'd missed plenty of advanced courses. His parents were anxious.
"To fully upgrade it, I'd have to take one of these apart," Vera said, tilting her chin toward the training unit.
"Take it apart?!" he stammered. He'd meant her to copy that model, not disassemble it!
"I'll reassemble it perfectly. Won't damage a thing."
For a former top‑tier engineer, taking a machine apart and putting it back was basic ethics.
Wu De stared at the mecha for a long time, then gritted his teeth. "I'll try to get the school to approve."